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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34271-0.txt b/34271-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0b72fba --- /dev/null +++ b/34271-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4976 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Is Polite Society Polite?, by Julia Ward Howe + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: Is Polite Society Polite? + and Other Essays + +Author: Julia Ward Howe + +Release Date: November 10, 2010 [EBook #34271] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IS POLITE SOCIETY POLITE? *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Photo of Julia Ward Howe + +Signed, + +Yours very cordially, + +Julia Ward Howe.] + + + + +Is Polite Society Polite? + +And Other Essays + +BY + +[Illustration: colophon] + +MRS. JULIA WARD HOWE + +BOSTON & NEW YORK + +Lamson, Wolffe, & Company + +1895 + +Copyright, 1895, By Lamson, Wolffe, & Co. + +All rights reserved + + + + +Preface + + +I REMEMBER that, quite late in the fifties, I mentioned to Theodore +Parker the desire which I began to feel to give living expression to my +thoughts, and to lend to my written words the interpretation of my +voice. + +Parker, who had taken a friendly interest in the publication of my first +volumes, "Passion Flowers" and "Words for the Hour," gave his approval +also to this new project of mine. "The great desire of the age," he +said, "is for vocal expression. People are scarcely satisfied with the +printed page alone: they crave for their instruction the living voice +and the living presence." + +At the time of which I write, no names of women were found in the lists +of lecture courses. Lucy Stone had graduated from Oberlin, and was +beginning to be known as an advocate of temperance, and as an +antislavery speaker. Lucretia Mott had carried her eloquent pleading +outside the limits of her Quaker belonging. Antoinette Brown Blackwell +occupied the pulpit of a Congregational church, while Abby Kelly Foster +and the Grimke Sisters stood forth as strenuous pleaders for the +abolition of slavery. Of these ladies I knew little at the time of which +I speak, and my studies and endeavors occupied a field remote from that +in which they fought the good fight of faith. My thoughts ran upon the +importance of a helpful philosophy of life, and my heart's desire was to +assist the efforts of those who sought for this philosophy. + +Gradually these wishes took shape in some essays, which I read to +companies of invited friends. Somewhat later, I entered the lecture +field, and journeyed hither and yon, as I was invited. + +The papers collected in the present volume have been heard in many parts +of our vast country. As is evident, they have been written for popular +audiences, with a sense of the limitations which such audiences +necessarily impose. With the burthen of increasing years, the freedom of +locomotion naturally tends to diminish, and I must be thankful to be +read where I have in other days been heard. I shall be glad indeed if it +may be granted to these pages to carry the message which I myself have +been glad to bear,--the message of the good hope of humanity, despite +the faults and limitations of individuals. + +That hope casts its light over the efforts of years that are past, and +gilds for me, with ineffaceable glow, the future of our race. + +The lecture, "Is Polite Society Polite?" was written for a course of +lectures given some years ago by the New England Women's Club of Boston. +"Greece Revisited" was first read before the Town and Country Club of +Newport, R.I. "Aristophanes" and "Dante and Beatrice" were written for +the Summer School of Philosophy at Concord, Mass. "The Halfness of +Nature" was first read before the Boston Radical Club. "The Salon in +America" was written for the Contemporary Club in Philadelphia. + + + + +Contents + + +Preface + +Is Polite Society Polite Page 3 + +Paris 37 + +Greece Revisited 77 + +The Salon in America 113 + +Aristophanes 133 + +The Halfness of Nature 161 + +Dante and Beatrice 181 + + + + +Is Polite Society Polite? + + +WHY do we ask this question? For reasons which I shall endeavor to make +evident. + +The life in great cities awakens a multitude of ambitions. Some people +are very unscrupulous in following these ambitions, attaining their +object either by open force and pushing, or by artful and cunning +manœuvres. And so it will happen that in the society which considers +itself entitled to rank above all other circles one may meet with people +whose behavior is guided by no sincere and sufficient rule of conduct. +Observing their shortcomings, we may stand still and ask, Are these +people what they should be? Is polite society polite? + +For this society, which is supposed to be nothing if not polite, does +assume, in every place, to set up the standard of taste and to regulate +the tone of manners. It aims to be what Hamlet once was in Ophelia's +eyes--"the glass of fashion and the mould of form." Its forms and +fashions change, of course, from age to age, and yet it is a steadfast +institution in the development of human civilization. + +I should be sorry to overstate its shortcomings, but I wish I might help +it to feel its obligations and to fulfil them. + +What shall we accept in the ordinary sense of men as politeness? Shall +we consider it a mere surface polish--an attitude expressive of +deference--corresponding to no inward grace of good feeling? Will you +like to live with the person who, in the great world, can put on fine +manners, but who, in the retirement of home, manifests the vulgarity of +a selfish heart and an undisciplined temper? + +No, you will say; give me for my daily companions those who always wear +the best manners they have. For manners are not like clothes: you can +mend them best when you have them on. + +We may say at the outset that sincerity is the best foundation upon +which to build the structure of a polite life. The affectation of +deference does not impose upon people of mature experience. It carries +its own contradiction with it. When I hear the soft voice, a little too +soft, I look into the face to see whether the two agree. But I need +scarcely do that. The voice itself tells the story, is sincere or +insincere. Flattery is, in itself, an offence against politeness. It is +oftenest administered to people who are already suffering the +intoxication of vanity. When I see this, I wish that I could enforce a +prohibitory ordinance against it, and prosecute those who use it mostly +to serve their own selfish purposes. But people can be trained never to +offer nor to receive this dangerous drug of flattery, and I think that, +in all society which can be called good, it becomes less and less the +mode to flavor one's dishes with it. + +Having spoken of flattery, I am naturally led to say a word about its +opposite, detraction. + +The French have a witty proverb which says that "the absent are always +in the wrong," and which means that the blame for what is amiss is +usually thrown upon those who are not present to defend themselves. It +seems to me that the rules of politeness are to be as carefully observed +toward the absent as toward those in whose company we find ourselves. +The fact that they cannot speak in their own defence is one which should +appeal to our nicest sense of honor. Good breeding, or its reverse, is +as much to be recognized in the way in which people speak of others as +in the way in which they speak to them. + +Have we not all felt the tone of society to be lowered by a low view of +the conduct and motives of those who are made the subjects of +discussion? + +Those unfortunate men and women who delight in talk of this sort always +appear to me degraded by it. No matter how clever they may be, I avoid +their society, which has in it a moral malaria most unwholesome in +character. + +I am glad to say that, although frivolous society constantly shows its +low estimate of human nature, I yet think that the gay immolation of +character which was once considered a legitimate source of amusement +has gone somewhat out of fashion. Sheridan's "School for Scandal" gives +us some notion of what this may once have been. I do think that the +world has grown more merciful in later years, and that even people who +meet only for their own amusement are learning to seek it without +murdering the reputation of their absent friends. + +There is a mean impulse in human nature which leads some people to toss +down the reputation of their fellows just as the Wall Street bear tosses +down the value of the investments whose purchase he wishes to command at +his own price. But in opposition to this, God has set within us a power +which reacts against such base estimates of mankind. The utterance of +this false tone often calls out the better music, and makes us admire +the way in which good springs up in the very footsteps of evil and +effaces them as things of nought. + +Does intercourse with great society make us more or less polite? +Elizabeth Browning says:-- + + First time he kissed me he but only kissed + The fingers of this hand wherewith I write, + Which ever thence did grow more clean and white, + Slow to world greetings, quick with its "Oh, list," + When the angels speak. + +This clearly expresses the sanctification of a new and noble interest. +How is it with those on whom the great world has set its seal of +superior position, which is derived from a variety of sources, among +which wealth, recognized talent, and high descent are the most +important? + +I must say in answer that this social recognition does not affect all +people in the same manner. One passes the ordeal unscathed, is as fresh +in affection, as genuine in relation and intercourse, as faithful to +every fine and true personal obligation in the fiery furnace of wealth +and fashion and personal distinction as he or she was in the simple +village or domestic life, in which there was no question of greatness or +smallness, all being of nearly the same dimensions. + +The great world may boast of its jewels which no furnace blast can melt +or dim, but they are rare. Madame de Staël and Madame Récamier seem to +have been among these undimmed gems; so, also, was Madame de Sévigné, +with a heart warm with love for her children and her friends in all the +dazzle of a brilliant court. So I have seen a vessel of the finest +glass, thin as paper, which a chemist left over his spirit-lamp, full of +boiling liquid, and, returning the next day, found uninjured, so perfect +was the temper of the glass. But for one such unspoiled world-favorite, +I can show you twenty men and women who, at the first lift of fortune, +forsake their old friends, neglect their near relations, and utterly +ignore their poor ones. + +Romance is full of such shameful action; and let me say here, in +passing, that in my opinion Romance often wears off our horror of what +is wicked and heartless by showing it as a permanent and recognized +element of society. This is the reverse of what it should do. But in +these days it so exceeds its office in the hunt after the exhausted +susceptibilities of a novel-reading public that it really thumps upon +our aversion to vice until it wears it out. + +De Balzac's novel called "Father Goriot" tells the story of a man of +humble origin who grows rich by trade, educates his daughters for +fashionable life, marries them to men of condition, portions them +abundantly, and is in return kept carefully out of what the world knows +of their lives. They seek him only when they want money, which they +always do, in spite of the rich dowry settled on them at their marriage. +_Father Goriot_ sells his last piece of silver to help them, and dies in +a low boarding-house, tended by the charity of strangers, tormented to +the last by the bickering of his children, but not cheered for one +moment by their affection. + +I have heard on good authority that people of wealth and position in our +large cities sometimes deposit their aged and helpless parents in +asylums where they may have all that money can buy for them, but nothing +of what gratitude and affection should give them. How detestable such a +course is I need not say; my present business is to say that it is far +from polite. + +Apropos of this suggestion, I remember that I was once invited to read +this essay to a village audience in one of the New England States. My +theme was probably one quite remote from the general thought of my +hearers. As I went on, their indifference began to affect me, and my +thought was that I might as well have appealed to a set of wooden +tenpins as to those who were present on that occasion. + +In this, I afterwards learned that I was mistaken. After the conclusion +of the evening's exercise, a young man, well known in the community, was +heard to inquire urgently where he could find the lecturer. Friends +asked, what did he want of her? He replied: "Well, I did put my brother +in the poorhouse, and now that I have heard Mrs. Howe, I suppose that I +must take him out." + +Need I say that I felt myself amply repaid for the trouble I had taken? +On the other hand, this same theme was once selected from my list by a +lecture association in a small town buried in the forests of the far +West. As I surveyed my somewhat home-spun audience, I feared that a +discussion of the faults of polite society would interest my hearers +very little. I was surprised after my reading to hear, from more than +one of those present, that this lecture appeared to them the very thing +that was most needed in that place. + +There is to my mind something hideous in the concealment and disregard +of real connections which involve real obligations. + +If you are rich, take up your poor relations. Assist them at least to +find the way of earning a competence. Use the power you have to bring +them within the sphere of all that is refining. You can embellish the +world to them and them to the world. Do so, and you will be respected by +those whose respect is valuable. On the contrary, repudiate those who +really belong to you and the mean world itself will laugh at you and +despise you. It is clever and cunning enough to find out your secret, +and when it has done so, it will expose you pitilessly. + +I have known men and women whose endeavors and successes have all been +modelled upon the plane of social ambition. Starting with a good +common-school education, which is a very good thing to start with, they +have improved opportunities of culture and of desirable association +until they stand conspicuous, far away from the sphere of their village +or homemates, having money to spend, able to boast of wealthy +acquaintances, familiar guests at fashionable entertainments. + +Now sometimes these individuals wander so far away from their original +belongings that these latter are easily lost sight of. And I assure you +that they are left in the dark, in so far as concerns the actions of +the friends we are now considering. Many a painstaking mother at a +distance, many a plain but honest old father, many a sister working in a +factory to help a brother at college, is never spoken of by such +persons, and is even thought of with a blush of shame and annoyance. + +Oh! shame upon the man or woman of us who is guilty of such behavior as +this! These relatives are people to be proud of, as we should know if we +had the heart to know what is true, good, and loyal. Even were it not +so, were your relative a criminal, never deny the bond of nature. Stand +beside him in the dock or at the gallows. You have illustrious precedent +for such association in one whom men worship, but forget to imitate. + +Let me here relate a little story of my early years. I had a nursery +governess when I was a small child. She came from some country town, and +probably regarded her position in my father's family as a promotion. One +evening, while we little folks gathered about her in our nursery, she +wept bitterly. "What is the matter?" we asked; and she took me up in her +lap, and said: "My poor old father came here to see me to-day, and I +would not see him. I bade them tell him that he had mistaken the house, +and he went away, and as he went I saw him looking up at the windows so +wistfully!" Poor woman! We wept with her, feeling that this was indeed +a tragical event, and not knowing what she could do to make it better. + +But could I see that woman now, I would say to her: "If you were serving +the king at his table, and held his wine-cup in your hand, and your +father stood without, asking for you, you should set down the cup, and +go out from the royal presence to honor your father, so much the more if +he is poor, so much the more if he is old." And all that is really +polite in polite society would say so too. + +Now this action which I report of my governess corresponds to something +in human nature, and to something which polite society fosters. + +For polite society bases itself upon exclusions. In this it partly +appeals to that antagonism of our nature through which the desire to +possess something is greatly exaggerated by the difficulty of becoming +possessed of it. If every one can come to your house, no one, you think, +will consider it a great object of desire to go there. Theories of +supply and demand come in here. People would gladly destroy things that +give pleasure, in order to enhance their value in the hands of the few. + +I once heard a lady, herself quite new in society, say of a Parisian +dame who had shown her some attention: "Ah! the trouble with Madame---- +is that she is too good-natured. She entertains everybody." "Indeed," +thought I, "if she had been less good-natured, is it certain that she +would have entertained you?" + +But of course the justifiable side of exclusion is choice, selection of +one's associates. No society can confer the absolute right or power to +make this selection. Tiresome and unacceptable people are everywhere +entangled in relations with wise and agreeable ones. There is no bore +nor torment who has not the right to incommode some fireside or assembly +with his or her presence. You cannot keep wicked, foolish, tiresome, +ugly people out of society, however you and your set may delight in good +conduct, grace, and beauty. You cannot keep poor people out of the +society of the rich. Those whom you consider your inferiors feed your +cherished stomach, and drape your sacred person, and stand behind your +chair at your feasts, judging your manners and conversation. + +Let us remember Mr. Dickens's story of "Little Dorrit," in which _Mr. +Murdle_, a new-rich man, sitting with guests at his own sumptuous table, +is described as dreading the disapprobation of his butler. This he might +well do, as the butler was an expert, well aware of the difference +between a gentleman of breeding and education and a worldling, lifted by +the possession of wealth alone. + +Very genial in contrast with this picture appears the response of +Abraham Lincoln, who, on being asked by the head waiter at his first +state dinner whether he would take white wine or red, replied: "I don't +know; which would you?" + +Well, what can society do, then? It can decree that those who come of a +certain set of families, that those who have a certain education, and +above all, a certain income, shall associate together on terms of +equality. And with this decree there comes to foolish human nature a +certain irrational desire to penetrate the charmed circle so formed. + +The attempt to do this encounters resistance; there is pushing in and +shoving out,--coaxing and wheedling on the one hand, and cold denial or +reluctant assent on the other. So a fight is perpetually going on in the +realm of fashion. Those not yet recognized are always crowding in. Those +first in occupation are endeavoring to crowd these out. In the end, +perseverance usually conquers. + +But neither of these processes is polite--neither the crowding in nor +the crowding out--and this last especially, as many of those who are in +were once out, and are trying to keep other people from doing what they +themselves have been very glad to do. In Mr. Thackeray's great romance, +"The Newcomes," young _Ethel Newcome_ asks her grandmother, _Lady Kew_, +"Well then, grandmother, who is of a good family?" And the old lady +replies: "Well, my dear, mostly no one." But I would reply: Mostly +every one, if people are disposed to make their family good. + +There is an obvious advantage in society's possession of a recognized +standard of propriety in general deportment; but the law of good +breeding should nowhere be merely formal, nor should its application be +petty and captious. The externals of respectability are most easily aped +when they are of the permanent and stereotyped kind, and may be used to +conceal gross depravity; while the constant, fresh, gracious inspiration +of a pure, good heart is unmistakable, and cannot be successfully +counterfeited. + +On the other hand, young persons should be desirous to learn the opinion +of older ones as to what should and should not be done on the ground of +general decorum and good taste. Youth is in such hot haste to obtain +what it desires that it often will not wait to analyze the spirit of an +occasion, but classes opposition to its inclinations as prejudice and +antiquated superstition. But the very individual who in youth thus +scoffs at restraint often pays homage to it in later days, having +meanwhile ascertained the weighty reasons which underlie the whole law +of reserve upon which the traditions of good society are based. + +How much trouble, then, might it save if the young people, as a rule, +were to come to the elders and ask at least why this thing or that is +regarded as unbecoming or of doubtful propriety. And how much would it +assist this good understanding if the elders, to the last, were careful +to keep up with the progress of the time, examining tendencies, keeping +a vigilant eye upon fashions, books, and personages, and, above all, +encouraging the young friends to exercise their own powers of +discrimination in following usages and customs, or in departing from +them. + +This last suggestion marks how far the writer of these pages is behind +the progress of the age. In her youth, it was customary for sons and +daughters both to seek and to heed the counsel of elders in social +matters. In these days, a grandmother must ask her granddaughter whether +such or such a thing is considered "good form," to which the latter will +often reply, "O dear! no." + + * * * * * + +It is sad that we should carry all the barbarism of our nature into our +views of the divine, and make our form of faith an occasion of ill-will +to others, instead of drawing from it the inspiration of a wide and +comprehensive charity. The world's Christianity is greatly open to this +accusation, in dealing with which we are forced to take account of the +slow rate of human progress. + +A friend lately told me of a pious American, familiar in Hong Kong, who +at the close of his last visit there, took a formal and eternal leave +of one of the principal native merchants with whom he had long been +acquainted. Mr. C---- alluded to his advanced age, and said that it was +almost certain he could never return to China. "We shall not meet again +in this world," he said, "and as you have never embraced the true +religion, I can have no hope of meeting you in a better one." + +I ask whether this was polite, from one sinner to another? + +A stupid, worldly old woman of fashion in one of our large cities once +said of a most exemplary acquaintance, a liberal Christian saint of +thirty years or more ago: "I am very fond of Mrs. S---- but she is a +Unitarian. What a pity we cannot hope to meet in heaven!" The wicked +bystanders had their own view of the reason why this meeting would +appear very improbable. + +What shall we say of the hospitality which in some churches renders each +man and woman the savage guardian of a seat or pew? Is this God's house +to you, when you turn with fury on a stranger who exercises a stranger's +right to its privileges? Whatever may be preached from the pulpit of +such a church, there is not much of heaven in the seats so maintained +and defended. I remember an Episcopal church in one of our large cities +which a modest looking couple entered one Sunday, taking seats in an +unoccupied pew near the pulpit. And presently comes in the plumed head +of the family, followed by its other members. The strangers are warned +to depart, which they do, not without a smile of suppressed amusement. +The church-woman afterwards learned that the persons whom she had turned +out of her pew were the English ambassador and his wife, the +accomplished Lord and Lady Napier. + +St. Paul tells us that in an unknown guest we may entertain an angel +unawares. But I will say that in giving way to such evil impulses, +people entertain a devil unawares. + +Polite religion has to do both with manners and with doctrine. Tolerance +is the external condition of this politeness, but charity is its +interior source. A doctrine which allows and encourages one set of men +to exclude another set from claim to the protection and inspiration of +God is in itself impolite. Christ did not reproach the Jews for holding +their own tenets, but for applying these tenets in a superficial and +narrow spirit, neglecting to practise true devotion and benevolence, and +refusing to learn the providential lessons which the course of time +should have taught them. At this day of the world, we should all be +ready to admit that salvation lies not so much in the prescriptions of +any religion as in the spirit in which these are followed. + +It is the fashion to-day to decry missions. I believe in them greatly. +But a missionary should start with a polite theory concerning the +religion which he hopes to supersede by the introduction of one more +polite. If he studies rightly, he will see that all religions seek after +God, and will imitate the procedure of Paul, who, before instructing the +Athenians in the doctrines of the new religion, was careful to recognize +the fact that they had a religion of their own. + +I wish to speak here of the so-called rudeness of reform; and to say +that I think we should call this roughness rather than rudeness. A true +reformer honors human nature by recognizing in it a higher power than is +shown in its average action. The man or woman who approaches you, urging +upon you a more fervent faith, a more impartial justice, a braver +resolve than you find in your own mind, comes to you really in +reverence, and not in contempt. Such a person sees in you the power and +dignity of manhood or womanhood, of which you, perhaps, have an +insufficient sense. And he will strike and strike until he finds in you +that better nature, that higher sense to which he appeals, and which in +the end is almost sure to respond to such appealing. + +I remember having thought in my youth that the Presbyterian preacher, +John Knox, was probably very impolite in his sermons preached before +poor Queen Mary Stuart. But when we reflect upon the follies which, more +than aught else, wrecked her unhappy life, we may fancy the stern divine +to have seen whither her love of pleasure and ardent temperament would +lead her, and to have striven, to the best of his knowledge and power, +to pluck her as a brand from the burning, and to bring her within the +sober sphere of influence and reflection which might have saved her +kingdom and her life. + +With all its advances, society still keeps some traces of its original +barbarism. I see these traces in the want of respect for labor, where +this want exists, and also in the position which mere Fashion is apt to +assign to teachers in the community. + +That those who must be intellectually looked up to should be socially +looked down upon is, to say the least, very inconsistent. That the +performance of the helpful offices of the household should be held as +degrading to those who perform them is no less so. We must seek the +explanation of these anomalies in the distant past. When the handiwork +of society was performed by slaves, the world's estimate of labor was +naturally lowered. In the feudal and military time, the writer ranked +below the fighter, and the skill of learning below the prowess of arms. +The mind of to-day has only partially outgrown this very rude standard +of judgment. I was asked, some fifteen years ago, in England, by people +of education, whether women teachers ranked in America with ladies or +with working women. I replied: "With ladies, certainly," which seemed to +occasion surprise. + +I remember having heard that a relative of Theodore Parker's wife, who +disliked him, would occasionally taunt him with having kept school. She +said to him one day: "My father always told me to avoid a schoolmaster." +Parker replied: "It is evident that you have." + +I think that as Americans we should all feel an especial interest in the +maintenance of polite feeling in our community. The theory of a +government of the people, by the people, and for the people is in itself +the most polite of theories. The fact that under such a government no +man has a position of absolute inferiority forced upon him for life +ought to free us from mean subserviency on the one hand, and from +haughty and brutal assumption on the other. + +Yet I doubt whether politeness is as much considered in American +education as it ought to be. Perhaps our theory of the freedom and +equality of all men leads some of us to the mistaken conclusion that all +people equally know how to behave themselves, which is far from being +the fact. + +One result of our not being well instructed in the nature of politeness +is that we go to the wrong sources to learn it. People who have been +modestly bred think they shall acquire fine manners by consorting with +the world's great people, and in this way often unlearn what they +already know of good manners, instead of adding to their knowledge. + +Rich Americans seem latterly to have taken on a sort of craze about the +aristocracies of other countries. One form of this craze is the desire +of ambitious parents to marry their daughters to titled individuals +abroad. When we consider that these counts, marquises, and barons +scarcely disguise the fact that the young lady's fortune is the object +of their pursuit, and that the young lady herself is generally aware of +this, we shall not consider marriage under such circumstances a very +polite relation. + +What does make our people polite, then? Partly the inherited blood of +men who would not submit to the rude despotism of old England and old +Europe, and who thought a better state of society worth a voyage in the +_Mayflower_ and a tussle with the wild forest and wilder Indian. Partly, +also, the necessity of the case. As we recognize no absolute social +superiority, no one of us is entirely at liberty to assume airs of +importance which do not belong to him. No matter how selfish we may be, +it will not do for us to act upon the supposition that the comfort of +other people is of less consequence than our own. If we are rude, our +servants will not live with us, our tradespeople will not serve us. + +This is good as far as it goes, but I wish that I could oftener see in +our young people a desire to know what is perfectly and beautifully +polite. And I feel sure that more knowledge in this direction would +save us from the vulgarity of worshipping rank and wealth. + +Who have been the polite spirits of our day? I can mention two of them, +Mr. Longfellow and Mr. Emerson, as persons in whose presence it was +impossible to be rude. But our young people of to-day consider the great +fortunes rather than the great examples. + +In order to be polite, it is important to cultivate polite ways of +thinking. Great social troubles and even crimes grow out of rude and +selfish habits of mind. Let us take the case of the Anarchists who were +executed in Chicago some years ago. Before their actions became wicked, +their thoughts became very impolite. They were men who had to work for +their living. They wanted to be so rich that they should not be under +this necessity. Their mode of reasoning was something like this: "I want +money. Who has got it? The capitalist. What protects him in keeping it? +The laws. Down with the laws, then!" + +He who reasons thus forgets, foolish man, that the laws protect the poor +as well as the rich. The laws compel the capitalist to make roads for +the use of the poor man, and to build schoolhouses for the education of +his children. They make the person of the poor man as sacred as that of +the rich man. They secure to both the enjoyment of the greatest +benefits of civilization. The Anarchist puts all this behind him, and +only reasons that he, being poor, wants to be rich, and will overthrow, +if he can, the barriers which keep him from rushing like a wild beast +upon the rich man and despoiling him of his possessions. + +And this makes me think of that noble man Socrates, whom the Athenians +sentenced to death for impiety, because he taught that there was one +God, while the people about him worshipped many deities. Some of the +friends of this great man made a plan for his escape from prison to a +place of safety. But Socrates refused to go, saying that the laws had +hitherto protected him as they protected other citizens, and that it +would be very ungrateful for him to show them the disrespect of running +away to evade their sentence. He said: "It is better for me to die than +to set the example of disrespect to the laws." How noble were these +sentiments, and how truly polite! + +Whoever brings up his children to be sincere, self-respecting, and +considerate of others brings them up to good manners. Did you ever see +an impolite Quaker? I never did. Yet the Friends are a studiously plain +people, no courtiers nor frequenters of great entertainments. What makes +them polite? The good education and discipline which are handed down +among them from one generation to another. + +The eminent men of our own early society were simple in their way of +living, but when public duty called them abroad to mingle with the +elegant people of the Old World, they did us great credit. Benjamin +Franklin was much admired at the court of Louis XVI. Jay and Jefferson +and Morris and Adams found their manners good enough to content the +highest European society. They were educated men; but besides +book-learning, and above it, they had been bred to have the thoughts +and, more than all, the feelings of gentlemen. + +The assumption of special merit, either by an individual or a class, is +not polite. We notice this fault when some dressy young lady puts on +airs, and struts in fine clothes, or condescends from an elegant +carriage. Elder women show it in hardness and hauteur of countenance, or +in unnecessary patronage. + +But we allow classes of people to assume special merit on false grounds. +It may very easily be shown that it requires more talent and merit to +earn money than to spend it. Yet, by almost common consent of the +fashionable world, those who inherit or marry money are allowed to place +themselves above those who earn it. + +If this is the case so far as men are concerned, much more is it the +case with women. Good society often feels itself obliged to apologize +for a lady who earns money. The fact, however explained, is a badge of +discredit. She could not help it, poor thing! Her father failed, or her +trustee lost the investments made for her. He usually does. So she +has--oh, sad alternative!--to make herself useful. + +Now in America the judgment of the Old World in this respect has come to +be somewhat reversed. We do not like idle inheritors here; and so the +moneyed aristocracy of our country is a tolerably energetic and +industrious body. But in the case of womankind, I could wish to see a +very different standard adopted from that now existing. I could wish +that the fact of an idle and useless life should need apology--not that +of a laborious and useful one. Idleness is a pregnant source of +demoralization to rich women. The hurry and excitement of fashionable +engagements, and the absorbing nature of entirely selfish and useless +pursuits, such as dancing, dress, and flirtation, cannot take the place +of healthful work. Dr. Watts warns us that + + Satan finds some mischief still + For idle hands to do. + +And Tennyson has some noble lines in one of his noblest poems:-- + + I know you, Clara Vere de Vere, + You pine among your halls and towers; + The languid light of your proud eyes + Is wearied of the rolling hours. + In glowing health, with boundless wealth, + But sickening of a vague disease, + You know so ill to deal with time, + You needs must play such pranks as these. + +As I am speaking of England, I will say that some things in the +constitution of English society seem to tend to impoliteness. + +The English are a most powerful and energetic race, with immense +vitality, cruelly divided up in their own country by absolute social +conditions, handed down from generation to generation. So a sense of +superiority, more or less lofty and exaggerated, characterizes the upper +classes, while the lower partly rest in a dogged compliance, partly +indulge the blind instinct of reverence, partly detest and despise those +whom birth and fate have set over them. In England, people assert their +own rank and look down upon that of others all the way from the throne +to the peasant's hut. I asked an English visitor, the other day, what +inferior the lowest man had,--the man at the bottom of the social pile. +I answered him myself: "His wife, of course." + +Where worldliness gives the tone to character, it corrupts the source of +good manners, and the outward polish is purchased by the inward +corruption of the heart. The crucial experiment of character is found in +the transition from modest competency to conspicuous wealth and fashion. +Most of us may desire this; but I should rather say: Dread it. I have +seen such sweetness and beauty impaired by the process, such +relinquishment of the genuine, such gradual adoption of the false and +meretricious! + +Such was a house in which I used to meet all the muses of the earlier +time,--in which economy was elegant; frugality, tasteful and thrifty. My +heart recalls the golden hours passed there, the genial, home +atmosphere, the unaffected music, the easy, brilliant conversation. Time +passes. A or B is the head of a great mercantile house now. I meet him +after a lapse of years. He is always genial, and pities all who are not +so rich as he is. But when I go to his great feast, I pity him. All the +tiresome and antiquated furniture of fashionable society fills his +rooms. Those empty bores whom I remember in my youth, and many new ones +of their kind, float their rich clothing through his rooms. The old +good-hearted greeting is replaced by the distant company bow. The +moderate banquet, whose special dishes used to have the care of the +young hostess, is replaced by a grand confectioner's avalanche, cold, +costly, and comfortless. And I sigh, and go home feeling, as Browning +says, "chilly and grown old." + +This is not one case, but many. And since I have observed this page of +human experience, I say to all whom I love and who are in danger of +becoming very wealthy: Do not, oh! do not be too fashionable. "Love not +the world." + +Most of us know the things men really say to us beneath the disguise of +the things they seem to say. And So-and-So, taking my hand, expresses to +me: "How much more cordial should I be to you if your father's real +estate had not been sold off before the rise." And such another would, +if he could, say: "I am really surprised to see you at this house, and +in such good clothes. Pray have you any income that I don't happen to +know about?" The tax-gatherer is not half so vigilant about people's +worldly goods as these friends are. No matter how they bow and smile, +their real impoliteness everywhere penetrates its thin disguise. + +What is this impoliteness? To what is it shown? To God's image,--the +true manhood and true womanhood, which you may strip or decorate, but +which you cannot destroy. Human values cannot be raised or lowered at +will. "Thou canst not, by taking thought, add one cubit to thy stature." +I derive impoliteness from two sources,--indifference to the divine, and +contempt for the human. + +The king of Wall Street, some little time since, was a man who had risen +from a humble beginning to the eminence of a successful stock-gambler. +He had been fortunate and perhaps skilful in his play, and was supposed +to be possessed of immense wealth. Immediately, every door was opened to +him. No assemblage was perfect without him. Every designing mother +wanted him for her son-in-law. One unlucky throw overturned all this. +Down went his fortune; down, his eminence. No more bowing and cringing +and smiling now. No more plotting against his celibacy--he was welcome +to it. No more burthensome hospitality. He was dropped as coldly and +selfishly as he was taken up,--elbowed aside, left out in the cold. When +I heard of all this, I said: "Is it ever necessary in these times to +preach about the meanness of the great world?" + +Let us, in our new world, lay aside altogether the theory of human +superiority as conferred by special birth or fortune. Let us recognize +in all people human right, capacity, and dignity. + +Having adopted this equal human platform, and with it the persuasion +that the society of good people is always good society, let us organize +our circles by real tastes and sympathies. Those who love art can follow +it together; those who love business, and science, and theology, and +belles-lettres, can group themselves harmoniously around the object +which especially attracts them. + +But people shall, in this new order, seek to fill their own place as +they find it. No crowding up or down, or in or out. A quiet reference to +the standard of education and to the teachings of Nature will show each +one where he belongs. Religion shall show the supreme source of power +and of wisdom near to all who look for it. And this final unity of the +religious sense shall knit together the happy human variety into one +great complex interest, one steadfast faith, one harmonious effort. + +The present essay, I must say, was written in great part for this very +society which, assuming to take the lead in social attainment, often +falls lamentably short of its promise. But let us enlarge the ground of +our remarks by a more general view of American society. + +I have travelled in this country North and South, East and West. I have +seen many varieties of our national life. I think that I have seen +everywhere the capacity for social enjoyment. In many places, I have +found the notion of co-operation for good ends, which is a most +important element in any society. What I have seen makes me think that +we Americans start from a vantage-ground compared with other nations. As +mere social units, we are ranked higher than Britons or continental +Europeans. + +This higher estimation begins early in life. Every child in this country +is considered worth educating. The State will rescue the child of the +pauper or criminal from the ignorance which has been a factor in the +condition of its parents. Even the idiot has a school provided for him, +in which he may receive such training as he can profit by. This general +education starts us on a pretty high level. We have, no doubt, all the +faults of our human nature, but we know, too, how and why these should +be avoided. + +Then the great freedom of outlook which our institutions give us is in +our favor. We need call no man Master. We can pursue the highest aims, +aspire to the noblest distinctions. We have no excuse for contenting +ourselves with the paltry objects and illusory ambitions which play so +large a part in Old-World society. + +The world grows better and not worse, but it does not grow better +everywhere all the time. Wherever human effort to a given end is +intermitted, society does not attain that end, and is in danger of +gradually losing it from view, and thus of suffering an unconscious +deterioration which it may become difficult to retrieve. I do not think +that the manners of so-called polite society to-day are quite so polite +as they were in my youth. Young women of fashion seem to me to have lost +in dignity of character and in general tone and culture. Young men of +fashion seem to regard the young ladies with less esteem and deference, +and a general cheap and easy standard of manners is the result. + +On the other hand, outside this charmed circle of fashion, I find the +tone of taste and culture much higher than I remember it to have been in +my youth. I find women leading nobler and better lives, filling larger +and higher places, enjoying the upper air of thought where they used to +rest upon the very soil of domestic care and detail. So the community +gains, although one class loses,--and that, remember, the class which +assumes to give to the rest the standard of taste. + +Instead of dwelling too much upon the faults of our neighbors, let us +ask whether we are not, one and all of us, under sacred obligations to +carry our race onward toward a nobler social ideal. In Old-World +countries, people lack room for new ideas. The individual who would +introduce and establish these may be imprisoned, or sent to Siberia, or +may suffer, at the least, a social ostracism which is a sort of +martyrdom. + +Here we have room enough; we cannot excuse ourselves on that ground. And +we have strength enough--we, the people. Let us only have the _royal_ +will which good Mr. Whittier has celebrated in "Barbara Frietchie," and +we shall be able, by a resolute and persevering effort, to place our +civilization where no lingering trace of barbarism shall deform and +disgrace it. + + + + +Paris. + + +AN old woman's tale will always begin with a reminiscence of some period +more or less remote. + +In accordance with this law of nature, I find that I cannot begin to +speak of Paris without going back to the projection which the fashions +and manners of that ancient capital were able to cast upon my own native +city of New York. My recollections of the latter reach back, let me say, +to the year 1826. I was then seven years old; and, beginning to take +notice of things around me, I saw the social eminences of the day lit up +with the far-off splendors of Parisian taste. + +To speak French with ease was, in those days, considered the most +desirable of accomplishments. The elegance of French manners was +commended in all polite circles. The services of General Lafayette were +held up to children as deserving their lifelong remembrance and +gratitude. + +But the culmination of the _Gallomania_ was seen in the millinery of the +period; and I must confess that my earliest views of this were enjoyed +within the precincts of a certain Episcopal sanctuary which then stood +first upon the dress-list, and, like Jove among the gods, without a +second. This establishment retained its pre-eminence of toilet for more +than thirty years after the time of which I speak, and perhaps does so +still. I have now lived so long in Boston that I should be obliged to +consult New York authorities if I wished to be able to say decidedly +whether the well-known Grace Church of that city still deserves to be +called "The Church of the Holy Milliner." A little child's fancy +naturally ran riot in a field of bonnets so splendid and showy, and, +however admonished to listen to the minister, I am afraid that a raid +upon the flowers and plumes so lavishly displayed before me would have +offered more attractions to my tender mind than any itinerary of the +celestial journey of which I should have been likely to hear in that +place. + +The French dancing-master of that period taught us gambols and +flourishes long since banished from the domain of social decorum. Being +light and alert, I followed his prescriptions with joy, and learned with +patience the lessons set me by the French mistress, who, while leading +us through Florian's tales and La Fontaine's fables, did not forget to +impress upon us her conviction that to be French was to be virtuous, but +to be Parisian was to be perfect. + +Let me now pass on to the years of my youngladyhood, when New York +reflected Paris on a larger scale. The distinguished people of the +society to which my youth was related either had been to Paris or +expected to go there very shortly. Our circles were sometimes +electrified by the appearance of a well-dressed and perfumed stranger, +wearing the moustache which was then strictly contraband in the New York +business world, and talking of manners and customs widely different from +our own. + +These elegant gentlemen were sometimes adventurers in pursuit of a rich +wife, sometimes intelligent and well-informed travellers, and sometimes +the agents of some foreign banking-house, for the drummer was not yet +invented. If they were furnished with satisfactory credentials, the +fathers of Gotham introduced them into their domestic circle, usually +warning their daughters never to think of them as husbands,--a warning +which, naturally, would sometimes defeat its own object. + +I must here be allowed to say one word concerning the French novel, +which, since that time, has here and there affected the tone of our +society. In the days of which I speak, brothers who returned from Europe +brought with them the romances of Balzac and Victor Hugo, which their +sisters surreptitiously read. We heard also with a sort of terror of +George Sand, the evil woman, who wrote such somnambulic books. We +pictured to ourselves the wicked delight of reading them; and presently +some friend confidentially lent us the forbidden volumes, which our +Puritan nurture and habit of life did much to render harmless and not +quite clear in meaning. + +I should say that the works of Balzac, George Sand, Victor Hugo, and +Eugène Sue had each exerted an appreciable influence upon the social +atmosphere of this country. Of these four, Balzac was the least popular, +having long been known only to readers acquainted with the French +language. George Sand first became widely recognized through her +"Consuelo." Victor Hugo's popular fame dates from "Les Miserables," and +"The Mysteries of Paris" opened the doors to Eugène Sue, and _Rigolette_ +and _Fleur de Marie_, new types of character to most of us, appeared +upon the stage. + +Still nearer was Paris brought to us by Carlyle's work on the French +Revolution, which, falling like a compact and burning coal upon the +American imagination, reddened the sober twilight of our firesides with +the burning passion and frenzy of that great drama of enthusiasm and +revenge. And here, lest I should entirely reverse the order in which +historic things should be spoken of, let me dismiss those early +memories, and, having shown you something of the far-reaching influence +of the city, let me speak of it from nearer sight and study. + +History must come first. I find it written in a certain record that +Paris, in the time of Julius Cæsar, was a collection of huts built upon +an island in the Seine, and bearing the name of Lutetia. Its +inhabitants were called Parisii, which was the name of their tribe, +supposed to be an offshoot from the Belgæ. I do not know whether this +primitive settlement lay within the bounds of Gallia _Bracchiata_; but, +if it did, how natural that to the other indebtedness of polite life, +that of the trouser should be added! The city still possesses some +interesting remains of the Roman period. The Hotel Cluny is also called +"The Hotel of the Baths," and whoever visits it may at the same time +explore a massive ruin which is said to have covered beneath its roof +the baths of the Emperor Julian, surnamed "The Apostate." + +A rapid panoramic retrospect will give us briefly the leading points of +the city's many periods of interest. First must be named Paris of the +early saints: Saint Genevieve, who saved it from the hands of Attila; +Saint Denis, famous for having walked several miles after his head was +cut off, carrying that deposed member under his arm. + +A well-known French proverb was suggested some time in the last century +by the relation of this mediæval miracle. The celebrated Madame +Dudeffant, a wit and beauty of Horace Walpole's time, was told one day +that the Archbishop of Paris had said that every one knew that Saint +Denis had walked some distance after his decapitation, but that few +people were aware that he had walked several miles on that occasion. +Madame Dudeffant said, in reply: "Indeed, in such a case, it is the +first step only that costs,"--_"Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coûte."_ + +Paris of the sleepy Merovingians,--do-nothing kings, a race made to be +kicked out, and fulfilling its destiny,--Paris of Hugh Capet, in whose +reign were laid the foundations of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Paris of +1176, whereof the old chronicler, John of Salisbury, writes: "When I saw +the abundance of provisions, the gaiety of the people, the good +condition of the clergy, the majesty and glory of all the church, the +diverse occupations of men admitted to the study of philosophy, I seemed +to see that Jacob's ladder whose summit reached heaven, and on which the +angels ascended and descended. I must confess that truly the Lord was in +this place. This passage also of a poet came to my mind: 'Happy is the +man whose exile is to this place.'" + +This suggests the familiar saying of our own time,--that good +Bostonians, when they die, go to Paris. + +Paris of Louis XI., he of the strong hand, the stony heart, the +superstitious mind. Scott has seized the features of the time and of the +man in his novel of "Quentin Durward." His hat, full of leaden images of +saints, his cunning and pitiless diplomacy, and the personages of his +brilliant court are brought vividly before us by the magician of the +North. + +Paris of Louis XIII., and its Richelieu live for us in Bulwer's vivid +play, in which I have often seen the fine impersonation of Edwin Booth. + +Paris of Louis XIV., the handsome young king, the idol, the absolute +sovereign, who said: _"L'état, c'est moi;"_ the old man before whom +Madame de Maintenon is advised to say her prayers, in order to make upon +his mind a serious impression; the revoker of the edict of Nantes; he +who tried to extinguish Dutch freedom with French blood; a god in his +own time, a figure now faded, pompous, self-adoring. + +Paris of Louis XV., the reign of license, the _Parc aux cerfs_, the +period of the courtesan, Madame de Pompadour, and a host of rivals and +successors,--a hateful type of womanhood, justly odious and gladly +forgotten. + +Paris of Louis XVI., the days of progress and of good intentions; the +deficit, the ministry of Neckar, the states general, Mirabeau, +Lafayette, Robespierre, the fall of the monarch, the reign of terror; +the guillotine in permanence, science, virtue, every distinction +supplying its victims. + +Paris of Napoleon I.; a whiff of grape-shot that silences the last +grumblings of the Revolution; the mighty marches, the strategy of +Ulysses, the labors of Hercules, the glory of Jupiter, ending in the +fate of Prometheus. + +Paris of the returned Bourbons, Charles X., the Duc de Berri, the +Duchess d'Angoulême; Paris of the Orleans dynasty, civil, civic, free, +witty; wise here, and wicked there; the Mecca of students in all +sciences; a region problematic to parents, who fear its vices and +expense, but who desire its opportunities and elegance for their sons. +This was in the days in which a visit to Paris was the _ne plus ultra_ +of what parents could do to forward a son's studies, or perfect a +daughter's accomplishments. + +Having made my connections in this breathless review, I must return to +speak of two modern works of art which treat of matters upon which my +haste did not allow me, in the first instance, to dwell. + +The first of these is Victor Hugo's picture of mediæval Paris, given in +his famous romance entitled "Notre Dame de Paris." This remarkable novel +preserves valuable details of the architecture of the ancient cathedral +from which it takes its name. It paints the society of the time in +gloomy colors. The clergy are corrupt, the soldiery licentious, the +people forlorn and friendless. Here is a brief outline of the story. The +beautiful gipsy, _Esmeralda_, dances and twirls her tambourine in the +public streets. Her companion is a little goat, which she has taught to +spell her lover's name, by putting together the letters which compose +it. This lover is _Phœbus_, captain of the guard. _Claude Frollo_, +the cunning, wicked priest of the period, has cast his evil eye upon the +girl. He manages to surprise her when alone with her lover, and stabs +the latter so as to endanger his life. A hideous dwarf, named +_Quasimodo_, also loves _Esmeralda_, with humble, faithful affection. As +the story develops, he turns out to have been the changeling laid in the +place of the lovely girl-infant whom gipsies stole from her cradle. +_Esmeralda_ finds her distracted parent, but only to be torn from her +arms again. The priest, _Claude Frollo_, foiled in his unlawful passion, +stirs up the wrath of the populace against _Esmeralda_, accusing her of +sorcery. She is seized by the mob, and hanged in the public street. The +narrative is powerful and graphic, but it shows the disease of Victor +Hugo's mind,--a morbid imagination which heightens the color of human +crimes in order to give a melodramatic brilliancy to the virtue which +contrasts with them. According to his view, suffering through the fault +of others is necessarily the lot of all good people. French romance has +in it much of this despair of the cause of virtue. It springs, however +remotely, from the dark days of absolutism, whose bitter secrets were +masked over by the frolic fancy of the people who invented the joyous +science of minstrelsy. + +The other work which I have now in mind is Meyerbeer's opera of "The +Huguenots," which I mention here because it brings so vividly to mind +the features of another period in the history of Paris. It represents, +as an opera may, the frightful days in which a king's hospitality was +made a trap for the wholesale butchery of as many Protestants as could +be lured within the walls of Paris,--the massacre which bears the name +of Saint Bartholomew. Nobles and leaders were shot down in the streets, +or murdered in their beds, while the hollow phrases of the royal favor +still rang in their ears. I have seen, near the church of St. Germain +l'Auxerois, the palace window from which the kerchief of Catherine de +Medici gave the signal for the fatal onslaught. "Do you not believe my +word?" asked the Queen Mother one day of the English ambassador. "No, by +Saint Bartholomew, Madam," was the sturdy reply. + +Meyerbeer's opera is truly a Protestant work of art, vigorous and noble. +Through all the intensity of its dramatic situations runs the grand +choral of Luther:-- + + A mighty fortress is our God. + +So true faith holds its own, and sails its silver boat upon the bloody +sea of martyrdom. + +Am I obliged to have recourse to a novel and an opera in order to bring +before your eyes a vision of Paris in those distant ages? Such are our +indebtednesses to art and literature. And here I must again mention, as +a great master in both of these, Thomas Carlyle, who has given us so +vivid and graphic a picture of the Revolution in France, which followed +so nearly upon our own War of Independence. + +I, a grandmother of to-day, recall the impression which this great +conflict had made upon the grandparents of my childhood. Most wicked and +cruel did they esteem it, in all of its aspects. To people of our day, +it appears the inevitable crisis of a most malignant state of national +disease. Much of political quackery was swept away forever, one may +hope, by its virulent outbreak. No half-way nostrums, no outside +tinkering, answered for this fiery patient, whose fever set the whole +continent of Europe in a blaze. War itself was gentle in comparison with +the acts of its savage delirium, in which the vengeance of defrauded +ages fell upon victims most of whom were innocent of personal offence. +The reign of humanitarian theory led strangely to a period of military +predominance which has had no parallel since the days of Alexander of +Macedon. Then War itself died of exhaustion. The stupor of reaction +quenched the dream of civil and religious liberty. But the patient +stirred again in 1830 and 1848, and the dream, scarcely yet realized, +became more and more the settled purpose of his heart. + +Now the government in 1830 was manifestly in the wrong. The stupid old +Bourbon Prince, Charles X., had learned nothing, and forgotten nothing, +but the French people had learned and unlearned many things. They had +learned the illusion of Monarchy, the corruption of the demagogue, the +futility of the sentimentalist. The impotence of the aristocracy was one +of the lessons of the day. Was ever a people more rapidly educated? Take +the _canaille_ of the pre-revolutionary history, and the _peuple_ of the +Revolution. What a contrast! It is the lion asleep in the toils, and the +lion awake, and turning upon his captors in fury. The French people have +never gone back to what they were before that great outbreak. The +mighty, volcanic heart has made its pulsations felt through all +assumptions, through all restraints. Yet the French people are easily +tricked. They are easily led to receive pedantry for education, bigotry +for religion, constraint for order, and successful pretension for glory. + +The Revolution of 1848 was justified in all but its method. And method +has often been the weak point in French politics. Methods are handed +down more surely than ideas are inherited. The violent measures whose +record forms so large a part of French history have left behind them a +belief in military, rather than in moral, action. The _coup d'état_ +would seem by its name to be a French invention; but it is a method +abhorred of Justice. Justice recognizes two sides, and gives ear to +both. Passion sees but one, and blots out in blood the representatives +of the other. The Revolution of 1848 was the rather premature explosion +of a wide and subtle conspiracy. But if the conflicting opinions and +interests then current could have encountered each other, as in England +or America, in open daylight, trusting only in the weapons of reason, a +very different result would have been achieved. Do not conspire, is one +of the lessons which Paris teaches by her history. Do not say, nor teach +others to say: "If we cannot have our way, we will have your life." Say, +rather: "Let both sides state their case, and plead their cause, and let +the weight of Reason decide which shall prevail." + + * * * * * + +Paris as I first knew it, half a century ago, was a place imposing for +its good taste and good manners. A stranger passing through it with ever +so little delay would necessarily have been impressed with the general +intelligence, and with the æsthetic invention and nicety which, more +than anything else, have given the city its social and commercial +prestige. + +In those days, Chateaubriand and Madame Récamier were still alive. The +traditions of society were polite. The theatres were vivacious schools +of morality. The salon was still an institution. This was not what we +should call a party, but the habitual meeting of friends in a friend's +house,--a good institution, if kept up in a good spirit. + +The natural sociability of the French made the salon an easy and natural +thing for them. Salons were of all sorts. Some shone in true glory; some +disguised evil purposes and passions with artificial graces. I think the +institution of the salon indigenous to Paris, although it has by no +means stopped there. + +The great point in administering a salon is to do it sincerely. Where +the children are put out of the way, the old friends neglected, the rich +courted, and celebrities impaled and exhibited, the institution is +demoralizing, and answers no end of permanent good. A friendly house, +that opens its doors as often and as widely as the time and fortune of +its inmates can afford, is a boon and blessing to many people. + +I suppose that the French salons were of both sorts. Sydney Smith speaks +of a certain historical set of Parisian women who dealt very lightly +with the Decalogue, but who, on the other hand, gave very pleasant +little suppers. French society, no doubt, afforded many occasions of +this sort, but far different were the meetings in which the literary +world of Paris listened to the unpublished memoirs of Chateaubriand; far +different was the throng that gathered, twice a day, around the hearth +of the wise and devout Madame Swetchine. + +In the days just mentioned, I passed through Paris, returning from my +bridal journey, which had carried me to Rome. I was eager to explore +every corner of the enchanted region. What I did see, I have never +forgotten,--the brilliant shops, the tempting _cafés_, the varied and +entertaining theatres. I attended a _séance_ of the Chamber of Deputies, +a lecture of Edgar de Quinet, and one of Philarete Charles. De Quinet's +lecture was given at the Sorbonne. I remember of it only the enthusiasm +of the audience,--the faces at once fiery and thoughtful, the occasional +cries of "De Quinet," when any passage particularly stirred the feelings +of the auditors. Of Philarete Charles, I remember that his theme was +"English Literature," and that at the close of his lecture he took +occasion to reprobate the whole literary world of America. The _bon +homme_ Franklin, he said, had outwitted the French Court. The country of +Franklin was utterly without interest from an intellectual point of +view. "When," said he, "we take into account the late lamentable +disorders in New York (some small election riot, in 1844), we shall +agree upon the low state of American civilization and the small +prospect of good held out by the republic." He was unaware, of course, +that Americans were among his hearers; but a certain tidal wave of anger +arose in my heart, and had not my graver companion held me down, I +should have arisen then, as I certainly should now, to say: "Monsieur +Philarete Charles, you are uttering falsehoods." + +In those days, I first saw Rachel, then in the full affluence of her +genius. The trenchant manner, the statuesque drapery, the +chain-lightning effects, were much as they were afterwards seen in this +country. But when I saw her, seven years after that first time, in +London, I thought that her unrivalled powers had bloomed to a still +fuller perfection than before. Of finest clay, thrilled by womanly +passion and tempered by womanly tact, we need not remember the faults of +the person in the perfection of the artist. Alfred de Musset has left a +charming account of a supper at her house. I certainly have never seen +on the boards a tragic conception equal to hers. Ristori, able as she +was, seemed to me to fall short in Rachel's great parts, if we except +the last scene of "Marie Stuart," in which the Christian woman, +following the crucifix to her death, showed a sense of its value which +the Jewish woman could neither feel nor counterfeit. + +The gallery of the Louvre recalls the finest palaces of Italy, and +equals, in value and interest, any gallery in the world. Venice is far +richer in Titian's pictures, and Rome and Florence keep the greatest +works of Raphael and Michael Angelo. To understand Quintin Matsys and +Rubens, you must go to Antwerp, where their finest productions remain. +But the Louvre has an unsurpassed variety and interest, and exhibits not +a few of the chief treasures of ancient and modern art. Among these are +some of the masterpieces of Titian, Raphael, and Leonardo da Vinci, the +Conception of Murillo, Paul Veronese's great picture of the marriage at +Cana in Galilee, and the ever-famous Venus of Milo. + +In one of the principal galleries of Venice, I was once shown a large +picture by the French artist David. I do not remember much about its +merits, but, on asking how it came there, I was told that its place had +formerly been occupied by a famous picture by Paul Veronese. Napoleon +I., it will be remembered, robbed the galleries of Italy of many of +their finest pictures. After his downfall, most of these stolen +treasures were restored to their rightful owners; but the French never +gave up the Paul Veronese picture, which was this very one that now +hangs in the Louvre, where its vivid coloring and rich grouping look +like a piece of Venice, bright and glorious like herself. + +The student of art, returning from Italy, is possessed with the mediæval +gloom and glory which there have filled his eyes and his imagination. +With a sigh, looking toward our Western world, so rich in action, so +poor as yet in art, he pauses here in surprise, to view a cosmopolitan +palace of her splendors. It consoles him to think that the Beautiful has +made so brave a stand upon the nearer borders of the Seine. Encouraged +by the noble record of French achievement, he carries with him across +the ocean the traditions of Jerome, of Rosa Bonheur, of Horace Vernet. + + * * * * * + +In historical monuments, Paris is rich indeed. The oldest of these that +I remember was the Temple,--the ancient stronghold of the Knights +Templar, who were cruelly extirpated in the year 1307. It was a large, +circular building, occupied, when I visited it, as a place for the sale +of second-hand commodities. I remember making purchases of lace within +its walls which were nearly black with age. You will remember that Louis +XVI. and his family were confined here for some time, and that here took +place the sad parting between the King and the dear ones he was never to +see again. I will subjoin a brief extract from the diary of my +grandfather, Col. Samuel Ward, of the Revolutionary War, who was in +Paris at the time of the King's execution:-- + + _January 17, 1792._ The Convention up all night upon the question + of the King's sentence. At eleven this night the sentence of death + was pronounced,--three hundred and sixty-six for death; three + hundred and nineteen for seclusion or banishment; thirty-six + various; majority of five absolute. The King desired an appeal to + be made to the people, which was not allowed. Thus the Convention + have been the accusers, the judges, and will be the executors of + their own sentence. This will cause a great degree of astonishment + in America, where the departments are so well divided that the + judges have power to break all acts of the Legislature interfering + with the exercise of their office. + + _January 20._ The fate of the King disturbs everybody. + + _January 21._ I had engaged to pass this day, which is one of + horror, at Versailles, with Mr. Morris. The King was beheaded at + eleven o'clock. Guards at an early hour took possession of the + Place Louis XV., and were posted at each avenue. The most profound + stillness prevailed. Those who had feeling lamented in secret in + their houses, or had left town. Others showed the same levity and + barbarous indifference as on former occasions. Hitchborn, + Henderson, and Johnson went to see the execution, for which, as an + American, I was sorry. The King desired to speak: he had only time + to say he was innocent, and forgave his enemies. He behaved with + the fortitude of a martyr. Santerre ordered the executioner to + dispatch. + +Louis Napoleon ordered the destruction of this venerable monument of +antiquity, and did much else to efface the landmarks of the ancient +Paris, and to give his elegant capital the air of a city entirely +modern. + +The history of the Bastile has been published in many volumes, some of +which I have read. It was the convenient dark closet of the French +nursery. Whoever gave trouble to the Government or to any of its +creatures was liable to be set away here without trial or resource. One +prisoner confined in it escaped by patiently unravelling his shirts and +drawers of silk, and twisting them into a thick cord, by means of which +he reached the moat, and so passed beyond bounds. + +An historical personage, whose name is unknown, passed many years in +this sad place, wearing an iron mask, which no official ever saw +removed. He is supposed by some to have been a twin brother of the King, +Louis XIV.; so we see that, although it might seem a piece of good +fortune to be born so near the crown, it might also prove to be the +greatest of misfortunes. Think what must have been the life of that +captive--how blank, weary, and indignant! + +When the Bastile was destroyed, a prisoner was found who had suffered so +severely from the cold and damp of its dungeons that his lips had split +completely open, leaving his teeth exposed. Carlyle describes the +commandant of the fortress carried along in the hands of an infuriated +mob, crying out with piteous supplication: "O friends, kill me quick!" +The fury was indeed natural, but better resource against tyranny had +been the calm, strong will and deliberate judgment. It is little to kill +the tyrant and destroy his tools. We must study to find out what +qualities in the ruler and the ruled make tyranny possible, and then +defeat it, once and forever. + +The hospital of the _Invalides_ was built by Louis XIV., as a refuge for +disabled soldiers. This large edifice forms a hollow square, and is +famous for its dome,--one of the four real domes of the world, the +others being the dome of St. Sophia, in Constantinople; that of St. +Peter's, in Rome; and the grand dome of our own Capitol, in Washington. + +I have paid several visits to this interesting establishment, with long +intervals between. When I first saw it, fifty years ago, there were many +of Napoleon's old soldiers within its walls. On one occasion, one of +these old men showed us with some pride the toy fortifications which he +had built, guarded by toy soldiers. "There is the bridge of Lodi," he +said, and pointing to a little wooden figure, "there stands the +Emperor." At this time, the remains of the first Napoleon slumbered in +St. Helena. + +I saw the monument complete in 1867. It had then been open long to the +public. The marble floor and steps around the tomb of the first Napoleon +were literally carpeted with wreaths and garlands. The brothers of the +great man lay around him, in sarcophagi of costliest marble, their names +recorded not as Bonapartes, but as Napoleons. A dreary echo may have +penetrated even to these dead ears in 1870, when the column of the Place +Vendome fell, with the well-known statue for which it was only a +pedestal, and when the third Napoleon took his flight, repudiated and +detested. + +But to return. In 1851 I again saw Paris. The _coup d'état_ had not +then fallen. Louis Napoleon was still President, and already unpopular. +Murmurs were heard of his inevitable defeat in the election which was +already in men's minds. Louis Philippe was an exile in Scotland. While I +was yet in Paris, the ex-King died; but the announcement produced little +or no sensation in his ancient capital. + +A process was then going on of substituting asphaltum pavements for the +broad, flat paving-stones which had proved so available in former +barricades. The President, perhaps, had coming exigencies in view. The +people looked on in rather sullen astonishment. Not long after this, I +found myself at Versailles on a day set apart for a visit from the +President and his suite. The great fountains were advertised to play in +honor of the occasion. From hall to hall of the immense palace we +followed, at a self-respecting distance, the sober _cortége_ of the +President. A middle-sized, middle-aged man, he appeared to us. + +The tail of this comet was not then visible, and the star itself +exhibited but moderate dimensions. The corrupting influence of +absolutism had not yet penetrated the tissues of popular life. The +theatres were still loyal to decency and good taste. Manners and dress +were modest; intemperance was rarely seen. + +A different Paris I saw in 1867. The dragon's teeth had been sown and +were ripening. The things which were Cæsar's had made little account of +the things which were God's. A blight had fallen upon men and women. The +generation seemed to have at once less self-respect and less politeness +than those which I had formerly known. The city had been greatly +modernized, perhaps embellished, but much of its historic interest had +disappeared. The theatres were licentious. Friends said: "Go, but do not +take your daughters." The drivers of public carriages were often +intoxicated. + +The great Exposition of that year had drawn together an immense crowd +from all parts of the world. Among its marvels, my recollection dwells +most upon the gallery of French paintings, in which I stood more than +once before a full-length portrait of the then Emperor. I looked into +the face which seemed to say: "I have succeeded. What has any one to say +about it?" And I pondered the slow movements of that heavenly Justice +whose infallible decrees are not to be evaded. In this same gallery was +that sitting statue of the dying Napoleon which has since become so +familiar to the world of art. Crowns of immortelles always lay at the +feet of this statue. And I, in my mind, compared the statue and the +picture,--the great failure and the great success. But in Bismarck's +mind, even then, the despoiling of France was predetermined. + +What lessons shall we learn from this imperfect sketch of Paris? What +other city has figured so largely in literature? None that I know of, +not even Rome and Athens. The young French writers of our time make a +sketch of some corner of Parisian life, and it becomes a novel. + +French history in modern times is largely the history of Paris. The +modern saying has been that Paris was France. But we shall say: It is +not. Had Paris given a truer representation to France, she might have +avoided many long agonies and acute crises. + +It is because Paris has forced her representation upon France that +Absolutism and Intelligence, the two deadly foes, have fought out their +fiercest battles on the genial soil which seems never to have been +allowed to bear its noblest fruits. The tendency to centralization, with +which the French have been so justly reproached, may or may not be +inveterate in them as a people. If it is so, the tendency of modern +times, which is mostly in the contrary direction, would lessen the +social and political importance of France as surely, if not as swiftly, +as Bismarck's mulcting and mutilation. + +The organizations which result from centralization are naturally +despotic and, in so far, demoralizing. Individuals, having no recognized +representation, and being debarred the natural resource of legitimate +association, show their devotion to progress and their zeal for +improvement either in passionate and melancholy appeals or in secret +manœuvrings. The tendency of these methods is to chronic fear on the +one hand and disaffection on the other, and to deep conspiracies and +sudden seditions which astonish the world, but which have in them +nothing astonishing for the student of human nature. + +So those who love France should implore her to lay aside her quick +susceptibilities and irritable enthusiasms, and to study out the secret +of her own shortcomings. How is it that one of the most intelligent +nations of the world was, twenty years ago, one of the least instructed? +How is it that a warm-blooded, affectionate race generates such +atrocious social heartlessness? How was it that the nation which was the +apostle of freedom in 1848 kept Rome for twenty years in bondage? How is +it that the Jesuit, after long exile, has been reenstalled in its midst +with prestige and power? How is it, in so brilliant and liberal a +society, that the successors of Henri IV. and Sully are yet to be found? + +Perhaps the reason for some of these things lay in the treason of this +same Henri IV. He was a Protestant at heart, and put on the Catholic +cloak in order to wear the crown. "The kingdom of France," said he, or +one of his admirers, "is well worth hearing a mass or two." "The kingdom +of the world," said Christ, "is a small thing for a man to gain in +exchange for the kingdom of his own honest soul." Henri IV. made this +bad bargain for himself and for France. He did it, doubtless, in view of +the good his reign might bring to the distracted country. But he had +better have given her the example, sole and illustrious, of the most +brilliant man of the time putting by its most brilliant temptation, and +taking his seat low on the ground with those whose hard-earned glory it +is to perish for conscience's sake. + +But the great King is dead, long since, and his true legacy--his +wonderful scheme of European liberation and pacification--has only been +represented by a little newspaper, edited in Paris, but published in +Geneva, and called _The United States of Europe_. + +So our word to France is: Try to solve the problem of modern Europe with +the great word which Henri IV. said, in a whisper, to his other self, +the minister Sully. Learn that social forces are balanced first by being +allowed to exist. Mutilation is useless in a world in which God +continues to be the Creator. Every babe that he sends into the world +brings with it a protest against absolutism. The babe, the nation, may +be robbed of its birthright; but God sends the protest still. And France +did terrible wrong to the protest of her own humanity when she suffered +her Protestant right hand to be cut off, and a great part of her most +valuable population to submit to the alternative of exile or apostasy. + +So mad an act as this does not stand on the record of modern times. The +apostate has no spiritual country; the exile has no geographical +country. The men who are faithful to their religious convictions are +faithful to their patriotic duties. What a premium was set upon +falsehood, what a price upon faith, when all who held the supremacy of +conscience a higher fact than the supremacy of Rome were told to +renounce this confession or to depart! + + * * * * * + +If Paris gives to our mind some of the most brilliant pictures +imaginable, she also gives us some of the most dismal. While her +drawing-rooms were light and elegant, her streets were dark and wicked. +Among her hungry and ignorant populace, Crime planted its bitter seeds +and ripened its bloody crop. Police annals show us that Eugène Sue has +not exaggerated the truth in his portraits of the vicious population of +the great city. London has its hideous dens of vice, but Paris has, too, +its wicked institutions. + +Its greatest offences, upon which I can only touch, regard the relations +between men and women. Its police regulations bearing upon this point +are dishonoring to any Christian community. Its social tone in this +respect is scarcely better. Men who have the dress and appearance of +gentlemen will show great insolence to a lady who dares to walk alone, +however modestly. Marriage is still a matter of bargain and interest, +and the modes of conduct which set its obligations at naught are more +open and recognized here than elsewhere. The city would seem, indeed, to +be the great market for that host of elegant rebels against virtue who +are willing to be admired without being respected, and who, with +splendid clothes and poor and mean characteristics, are technically +called the _demi-monde_, the half-world of Paris. + +The corruption of young men and young women which this state of things +at once recognizes and fosters is such as no state can endure without +grievous loss of its manhood and womanhood. The Turks knew their power +when they could compel from the Greeks the tribute of their children, to +be trained as Turks, not as Christians. Must not the Spirit of evil in +like manner exult at his hold upon the French nation, when it allows him +to enslave its youth so largely, consoling itself for the same with a +shrug at the inevitable nature of human folly, or with some witty saying +which will be at once acknowledgment of and excuse for what cannot be +justified? + +Gambling has been one of the crying vices of the French metropolis, and +the "hells" of Paris were familiarly spoken of in my youth. These were +the gambling-houses, in that day among the most brilliant and ruinous of +their kind. Government has since then interfered to abolish them. Still, +I suppose that much money is lost and won at play in Paris. From this +and other irregularities, many suicides result. One sees in numerous +places in Paris, particularly near the river, placards announcing "help +to the drowned and asphyxiated," a plunge into the Seine, and a sitting +with a pan of charcoal being the favorite methods of self-destruction. +All have heard of the Morgue, a building in which, every day, the +lifeless bodies found in the river are exposed upon marble slabs, in +order that the friends of the dead--if they have any--may recognize and +claim them. I believe that this sad place is rarely without its +appropriate occupants. + + * * * * * + +Through the kindness of our minister, I was able, some years since, to +attend more than one session of the French Parliament. This body, like +our own Congress, consists of two houses. An outsider does not see any +difference of demeanor between these two. An American visiting either +the French Senate or the Chamber of Deputies will be surprised at the +noise and excitement which prevail. The presiding officer agitates his +bell again and again, to no purpose. He constantly cries, in a piteous +tone: "Gentlemen, a little silence, if you please." In the Senate, one +of the ushers with great pride pointed out to me Victor Hugo in his +seat. + +I have seen this venerable man of letters several times,--once in his +own house, and once at a congress of literary people in Paris, where, as +president of the congress, he made the opening address. This he read +from a manuscript, in a sonorous voice, and with much dignity of manner. +He was heard with great interest, and was interrupted by frequent +applause. + +A number of invitations were given for this first meeting of the +literary congress, which was held in one of the largest theatres of the +city. I had been fortunate enough to receive one of these cards, but +upon seeking for admission to the subsequent sittings of the congress, I +was told that no ladies were admitted to them. So you see that Lucy +Stone's favorite assertion that "women are people" does not hold good +everywhere. + +An esteemed Parisian friend had offered me an introduction to Victor +Hugo, and the great man had signified his willingness to receive a visit +from me. On the evening appointed for this visit, I called at his house, +accompanied by my daughter. We were first shown into an anteroom, and +presently into a small drawing-room, of which the walls and furniture +were covered with a striped satin material, in whose colors red +predominated. The venerable viscount kissed my hand and that of my +young companion with the courtesy belonging to other times than the +present. He was of middle height, reasonably stout. His eyes were dark +and expressive, and his hair and beard snow-white. Several guests were +present,--among others, the widow of one of his sons, recently married +to a second husband. + +Victor Hugo seated himself alone upon a sofa, and talked to no one. +While the rest of the company kept up a desultory conversation, a +servant announced M. Louis Blanc, and our expectations were raised only +to be immediately lowered, for at this announcement Victor Hugo arose +and withdrew into another room, from which we were able to hear the two +voices in earnest conversation, but from which neither gentleman +appeared. Was not this disappointment like one of those dreams in which, +just as you are about to attain some object of intense desire, the power +of sleep deserts you, and you awake to life's plain prose? + + * * * * * + +The shops of Paris are wonderfully well mounted and well served. The +display in the windows is not so large in proportion to the bulk of +merchandise as it is apt to be with us. Still, these windows do unfold a +catalogue of temptations longer than that of Don Giovanni's sins. + +Among them all, the jewellers' shops attract most. The love of human +beings for jewelry is a feature almost universal. The savage will give +land for beads. The women of Christendom will do the same thing. I have +seen fine displays of this kind in London, Rome, and Geneva. But in +Paris, these exhibits seem to characterize a certain vivid passion for +adornment, which is kindled and kept alive in the minds of French women, +and is by them communicated to the feminine world at large. + +The French woman of condition wears nothing which can be called _outré_. +She loves costly attire, but her taste, and that of her costumer, are +perfect. She wears the most delicate and harmonious shades, and the most +graceful forms. She never caricatures the fashion by exaggerating it. +English women of the same social position are more inclined to what is +tawdry, and have surely a less perfect sense of color and adaptation. + +Parisians are very homesick people when obliged to forsake their +capital. Madame de Staël, in full view of the beautiful lake of Geneva, +said that she would much prefer a view of the gutter in the Rue de Bac, +which in her day had not the attractions of the Bon Marché emporium, so +powerful to-day. + + * * * * * + +I should deserve ill of my subject if I failed to say that the great +issues of progress are to-day dearly and soberly held to by the +intelligence of the French people, and the good faith of their +representatives. In the history of the present republic, the solid +interests of the nation have slowly and steadfastly gained ground. + +The efforts which forward these seem to me to culminate in the measures +which are intended at once to establish popular education and to defend +it from ecclesiastical interference. The craze for military glory is +also yielding before the march of civilization, and the ambitions which +build up society are everywhere gaining upon the passions which destroy +it. + +In the last forty-five years, the social relations of France to the +civilized world have undergone much alteration. The magnificent +traditions of ancient royalty have become entirely things of the past. +The genius of the first Napoleon has passed out of people's minds. The +social prestige of France is no longer appealed to, no longer felt. + +We read French novels, because French novelists have an admirable style +of narrating, but we no longer go to them for powerful ideals of life +and character. The modern world has outgrown the Gallic theories of sex. +We are tired of hearing about the women whose merit consists in their +loving everything better than their husbands. In this light artillery of +fashion and fiction, France no longer holds the place which was hers of +old. + +In losing these advantages, she has, I think, gained better things. The +struggle of the French people to establish and maintain a republic in +the face of and despite monarchical Europe is a heroic one, worthy of +all esteem and sympathy. In science, France has never lost her eminence. +In serious literature, in the practical philosophy of history, in +criticism of the highest order, the French are still masters in their +own way. Notwithstanding their evil legislation regarding women, their +medical authorities have been most generous to our women students of +medicine. Many of these have crossed the Atlantic to seek in France that +clinical study and observation from which they have been in great +measure debarred in our own country. + +There is still much bigotry and intolerance, much shallow scepticism and +false philosophy; but there is also, underneath all this, the germ of +great and generous qualities which place the nation high in the scale of +humanity. + +I should be glad to bind together these scattered statements into some +great, instructive lesson for France and for ourselves. Perhaps the best +thing that I can do in this direction will be to suggest to Americans +the careful study of French history and of French character. The great +divisions of the world to-day are invaded by travel, and the iron horse +carries civilization far and wide. Many of those who go abroad may, +however, be found to have less understanding regarding foreign +countries than those who have learned all that may be learned concerning +them from history and literature. To many Americans, Paris is little +more than the place of shops and of fashions. I have been mortified +sometimes at the familiarity which our travellers show with all that may +be bought and sold on the other side of the ocean, combined with an +arrant and arrogant ignorance concerning the French people and the +country in which they live. + +Even to the most careful observer, the French are not easy to be +understood. The most opposite statements may be made about them. Some +call them noble; others, ignoble. To some, they appear turbulent and +ferocious; to others, slavish and cowardly. Great thinkers do not judge +them in this offhand way, and from such we may learn to make allowances +for the fact that monarchic and aristocratic rule create and foster +great inequalities of character and intelligence among the nations in +which they prevail. Limitations of mind and of opinion are inherited +from generations which have been dwarfed by political and spiritual +despotism; and in such countries, the success of liberal institutions, +even if emphatically assured, is but slowly achieved and established. + +A last word of mine shall commend this Paris to those who are yet to +visit it. Let me pray such as may have this experience not to suppose +that they have read the wonderful riddle of this city's life when they +shall have seen a few of its shops, palaces, and picture-galleries. If +they wish to understand what the French people are, and why they are +what they are, they will have to study history, politics, and human +nature pretty deeply. + +If they wish to have an idea of what the French may become, they must +keep their faith in all that America finds precious and invaluable,--in +free institutions, in popular education, and, above all, in the heart of +the people. Never let them believe that while freedom ennobles the +Anglo-Saxon, it brutalizes the Gaul. Despotism brutalizes for long +centuries, and freedom cannot ennoble in a moment. But give it time and +room, and it will ennoble. And let Americans who go to Paris remember +that they should there represent republican virtue and intelligence. + +How far this is from being the case some of us may know, and others +guess. Americans who visit Paris very generally relax their rules of +decorum and indulge in practices which they would not venture to +introduce at home. Hence they are looked upon with some disfavor by the +more serious part of the French people, while the frivolous ridicule +them at will. But I could wish that, in visiting a nation to whom we +Americans owe so much, we could think of something besides our own +amusement and the buying of pretty things to adorn our persons and our +houses. I could wish that we might visit schools, prisons, Protestant +churches, and hear something of the charities and reforms of the place, +and of what the best thinkers are doing and saying. I blush to think of +the gold which Americans squander in Paris, and of the bales of +merchandise of all sorts which we carry away. Far better would it be if +we made friends with the best people, exchanging with them our best +thought and experience, helping and being helped by them in the good +works which redeem the world. Better than the full trunk and empty +purse, which usually mark a return from Paris, will be a full heart and +a hand clasping across the water another hand, pure and resolute as +itself,--the hand of progress, the hand of order, the hand of brotherly +kindness and charity. + + + + +Greece Revisited + + +I SPEAK of a country to which all civilized countries are deeply +indebted. + +The common speech of Europe and America shows this. In whatever way the +languages of the western world have been woven and got together, they +all show here and there some golden gleam which carries us back to the +Hellenic tongue. Philosophy, science, and common thought alike borrow +their phraseology from this ancient source. + +I need scarcely say by what a direct descent all arts may claim to have +been recreated by Greek genius, nor can I exaggerate the importance of +the Greek poets, philosophers, and historians in the history of +literature. Rules of correct thinking and writing, the nice balance of +rhetoric, the methods of oratory, the notions of polity, of the +correlations of social and national interests,--in all of these +departments the Greeks may claim to have been our masters, and may call +us their slow and blundering pupils. + +A wide interval lies between these glories and the Greece of to-day. +Nations, like individuals, have their period of growth and decay, their +limit of life, which human devices seem unable to prolong. But while +systems of government and social organization change, race perseveres. +The Greeks, like the Hebrews, when scattered and powerless at home, have +been potent abroad. Deprived for centuries of political and national +existence, the spirit of their immortal literature, the power of their +subtle and ingenious mind, have leavened and fashioned the mind, not of +Europe only, but of the thinking world. + +Let us recall the briefest outline of the story. The states of ancient +Greece, always divided among themselves, in time invited the protection +of the Roman Empire, hoping thereby to attain peace and tranquillity. +Rome of to-day shows how her officials of old plundered the temples and +galleries of the Greeks, while her literary men admired and imitated the +Hellenic authors. + +At a later day, the beauty of the Orient seduced the stern heart of +Roman patriotism. A second Rome was built on the shores of the +Bosphorus,--a city whose beauty of position excelled even the dignity of +the seven hills. Greek and Roman, eastern and western, became mingled +and blent in a confusion with which the most patient scholar finds it +difficult to deal. Then came a political division,--eastern and western +empires, eastern and western churches, the Bishop of Rome and the +Patriarch of Constantinople. Other great changes follow. The western +empire crumbles, takes form again under Charlemagne, finally +disappears. The eastern empire follows it. The Turk plants his standard +on the shores of the Bosphorus. The sacred city falls into his hands, +without contradiction, so far as Europe is concerned. The veil of a dark +and bloody barbarism hides the monuments of a most precious +civilization. It is the age of blood. The nations of Western Europe have +still the faith and the attributes of bandits. The Turkish ataghan is +stronger than the Greek pen and chisel. The new race has a military +power of which the old could only faintly dream. + +And so the last Constantine falls, and Mahmoud sweeps from earth the +traces of his reign. In the old Church of St. Sophia, now the Mosque of +Omar, men show to-day, far up on one of the columns, the impress of the +conqueror's bloody hand, which could only strike so high because the +floor beneath was piled fathom-deep with Christian corpses. + +Another period follows. The Turk establishes himself in his new domain, +and employs the Greek to subjugate the Greek. Upon each Greek family the +tribute of a male child is levied; and this child is bred up in Turkish +ways, and taught to turn his weapon against the bosom of his mother +country. From these babes of Christian descent was formed the corps of +the Janissaries, a force so dangerous and deadly that the representative +of Turkish rule was forced at a later day to plan and accomplish its +destruction. + +The name "Greek" in this time no longer suggested a nation. I myself, in +my childhood, knew a young Greek, escaped from the massacres of Scio, +who told me that when, having learned English, he heard himself spoken +of as "the Greek," his first thought was that those who so spoke of him +were waiting to cut his throat. + +Now follows another epoch. Western Europe is busied in getting a little +civilization. Baptized mostly by force, _vi et armis_, she has still to +be Christianized: she has America to discover and to settle. She has to +go to school to the ghosts of Greece and Arabia, in order to have a +grammar and to learn arithmetic. There are some wars of religion, +endless wars for territorial aggrandizement. Europe is still a congress +of the beasts,--lion, tiger, boar, rhinoceros, all snared together by +the tortuous serpent of diplomacy. + +I pause, for out of this dark time came your existence and mine. A small +barque crosses the sea; a canoe steals toward the issue of a mighty +river. Such civilization as Europe has plants itself out in a new +country, in a virgin soil; and in the new domain are laid the +foundations of an empire whose greatness is destined to reside in her +peaceful and beneficent offices. Her task it shall be to feed the +starving emigrant, to give land and free citizenship to those +dispossessed of both by the greed of the old feudal systems. + +In the fulness of this young nation's life, a cry arose from that +ancient mother of arts and sciences. The Greek had arisen from his long +sleep, had become awake to the fact that civilization is more potent +than barbarism. Strong in this faith, Greece had closed in a death +struggle with the assassin of her national life. Through the enthusiasm +of individuals, not through the policy of governments, the desperate, +heroic effort received aid. From the night of ages, from the sea of +blood, Greece arose, shorn of her fair proportions, pointing to her +ruined temples, her mutilated statues, her dishonored graves. + +Americans may be thankful that this strange resurrection was not beheld +by our fathers with indifference. From their plenty, a duteous tribute +more than once went forth to feed and succor the country to which all +owe so much. And so an American, to-day, can look upon the Acropolis +without a blush--though scarcely without a tear. + +Contenting myself with this brief retrospect, I must turn from the page +of history to the record of individual experience. + +My first visit to Athens was in the year 1867. The Cretans were at this +time engaged in an energetic struggle for their freedom, and my husband +was the bearer of certain funds which he and others had collected in +America for the relief of the destitute families of the insurgents. A +part of this money was employed in sending provisions to the Island of +Crete, where the women and children had taken refuge in the fortresses +of the mountains, subject to great privations, and in danger of absolute +starvation. + +With the remainder of the fund, schools were endowed in Athens for the +children of the Cretan refugees. My husband's efforts were seconded by +an able Greek committee; and when, at the close of his labors, he turned +his face homeward, he was followed by the prayers and thanksgivings of +those whose miseries he had been enabled to relieve. + +Nearly ten years later than the time just spoken of, I again threaded my +way between the isles of Greece and arrived at the Piræus, the ancient +port of Athens. A railway now connects these two points; but on this +occasion, we did not avail ourselves of it, preferring to take a +carriage for the short distance. + +In approaching Athens for the second time, my first surprise was to find +that it had grown to nearly double the size which I remembered ten years +before. The cleanly, thrifty, and cheerful aspect of the city presented +the greatest contrast to the squalor and filth of Constantinople, which +I had just left. The perfect blue of the heavens brought out in fine +effect the white marble of the new buildings, some of which are costly +and even magnificent. Yet there, in full sight, towering above +everything else, stood the unattainable beauty, the unequalled, +unrivalled Parthenon. + +I made several pilgrimages to the Acropolis, eager to revive my +recollection respecting the design and history of its various monuments. +I listened again and again to the statements of well-read archæologists +concerning the uses of the temples, the positions of the statues and +bas-reliefs, the hundred gates, and the triumphal road which led up to +the height crowned with glories. + +But while I gave ear to what is more easily forgotten than +remembered,--the story of the long-vanished past,--my eyes received the +impression of a beauty that cannot perish. I did not say to the +Parthenon: Thou _wert_, but, Thou _art_ so beautiful, in thy perfect +proportion, in thy fine workmanship! + +What silver chisel turned the tender leaves of this marble foliage? Here +is a little bit, a yard or so, which has escaped the gnawing of the +elements, lying turned away from the course of the winds and rains! No +king of to-day, in building his palace, can order such a piece of work. +Artist he can find none to equal it. And I am proud to say that no king +nor millionaire to-day can buy this, or any other fragment belonging to +this sacred spot. What England took before Greece became a power again, +she may keep, because the British Museum is a treasure-house for the +world. But she will never repeat the theft: she is too wise to-day. +Christendom is too wise, and the Greeks have learned the value of what +they still possess. + +At the Acropolis, the theatre of Bacchus had been excavated a short time +before my previous visit. Near it they have now brought to light the +temple of Æsculapius. This temple, with the theatre of Bacchus and that +of Herodius Atticus, occupies the base of the Acropolis, on the side +that looks toward the sea. + +As one stands in the light of the perfect sky, discerning in the +distance that perfect sea, something of the cheerfulness of the ancient +Greeks makes itself felt, seems to pervade the landscape. Descending to +the theatre of Bacchus, the visitor may call up in his mind the vision +of the high feast of mirth and hilarity. Here was the stage; here are, +still entire, the marble seats occupied by the priests and other high +dignitaries, with one or two interesting bas-reliefs of the god. + +When I visited Greece in 1867, I found no proper museum containing the +precious fragments and works of art still left to the much-plundered +country. Some of these were preserved in the Theseion, a fine temple +well known to many by engravings. They were, however, very ill-arranged, +and could not be seen with comfort. I now found all my old favorites and +many others enshrined in the three museums which had been added to the +city during my absence. + +One of them is called the Barbakion. It contains, among other things, a +number of very ancient vases, on one of which the soul is represented by +a female figure with wings. Among these vases is a series relating to +family events, one showing a funeral, one a nativity, while two others +commemorate a bridal occasion. In one of these last, the bride sits +holding Eros in her arms, while her attendants present the wedding +gifts; in the other, moves the bridal procession, accompanied by music. +Here are preserved many small figures in clay, commonly spoken of in +Greece as the Tanagra dolls. A fine collection of these has been given +to the Boston Art Museum by a well-known patron of all arts, the late +Thomas G. Appleton. Here we saw a cremating pot of bronze, containing +the charred remains of a human body. I afterwards saw--at the Keramika, +an ancient cemetery--the stone vase from which this pot was taken. + +Among the objects shown at this museum was a beautiful set of gold +jewelry found in the cemetery just mentioned. It consisted of armlets, +bracelets, ear-rings, and a number of finger-rings, among which was one +of the coiled serpents so much in vogue to-day. I found here some +curious flat-bottomed pitchers, with a cocked-hat cover nicely fitted +on. This Greek device may have supplied the pattern for the first cocked +hat,--Dr. Holmes has told us about the last. + +But nothing in this collection impressed me more than did an ancient +mask cast from a dead face. This mask had lately been made to serve as a +matrix; and a plaster cast, newly taken from it, gave us clearly the +features and expression of the countenance, which was removed from us by +æons of time. + +A second museum is that built at the Acropolis, which contains many +fragments of sculpture, among which I recognized a fine bas-relief +representing three women carrying water-jars, and a small figure of +wingless Victory, both of which I had seen twelve years before, exposed +to the elements. + +But the principal museum of the city, a fine building of dazzling white +marble, is the patriotic gift of a wealthy Greek, who devoted to this +object a great part of his large fortune. In this building are arranged +a number of the ancient treasures brought to light through the +persevering labors of Dr. and Mrs. Schliemann. As the doctor has +published a work giving a detailed account of these articles, I will +mention only a few of them. + +Very curious in form are the gold cups found in the treasury of +Agamemnon. They are shaped a little like a flat champagne glass, but do +not expand at the base, standing somewhat insecurely upon the +termination of their stems. Here, too, are masks of thin beaten gold, +which have been laid upon the faces of the dead. Rings, ear-rings, +brooches, and necklaces there are in great variety; among the first, two +gold signet rings of marked beauty. I remember, also, several sets of +ornaments, resembling buttons, in gold and enamel. + +From the main building, we passed into a fine gallery filled with +sculptures, many of which are monumental in character. I will here +introduce two pages from my diary, written almost on the spot:-- + + Nothing that I have seen in Athens or elsewhere impresses me like + the Greek marbles which I saw yesterday in the museum, most of + which have been found and gathered since my visit in 1867. A single + monumental slab had then been excavated, which, with the help of + Pausanias, identified the site of the ancient Keramika, a place of + burial. Here have been found many tombs adorned with bas-reliefs, + with a number of vases and several statues. How fortunate has been + the concealment of these works of art until our time, by which, + escaping Roman rapacity and Turkish barbarism, they have survived + the wreck of ages, to show us, to-day, the spirit of family life + among the ancient Greeks! Italy herself possesses no Greek relics + equal in this respect to those which I contemplated yesterday. For + any student of art or of history, it is worth crossing the ocean + and encountering all fatigues to read this imperishable record of + human sentiment and relation; for while the works of ancient art + already familiar to the public show us the artistic power and the + sense of beauty with which this people were so marvellously + endowed, these marbles make evident the feelings with which they + regarded their dead. + + Perhaps the first lesson one draws from their contemplation is the + eternity, so to speak, of the family affections. No words nor work + have ever portrayed a regard more tender than is shown in these + family groups, in which the person about to depart is represented + in a sitting posture, while his nearest friends or relatives stand + near, expressing in their countenances and action the sorrow and + pathos of the final separation. Here an aged father gives the last + blessing to the son who survives and mourns him. Here a dying + mother reclines, surrounded by a group of friends, one of whom + bears in her arms the infant whose birth, presumably, cost the + mother her life. Two other slabs represent partings between a + mother and her child. In one of these the young daughter holds to + her bosom a dove, in token of the innocence of her tender age. In + the other, the mother is bending over the daughter with a sweet, + sad seriousness. Other groups show the parting of husband and wife, + friend from friend; and I now recall one of these in which the + expression of the clasped hands of two individuals excels in + tenderness anything that I have ever seen in paint or marble. The + Greeks, usually so reserved in their portrayal of nature, seem in + these instances to have laid aside the calm cloak of restraint + which elsewhere enwrapped them, in order to give permanent + expression to the tender and beautiful associations which hallow + death. + + TWO DRAMAS + + In the Bacchus theatre, + With the wreck of countless years, + The thought of the ancient jollity + Moved me almost to tears. + + Bacchus, the god who brightens life + With sudden, rosy gleam, + Lighting the hoary face of Age + With Youth's surpassing dream, + + The tide that swells the human heart + With inspiration high, + Ebbing and sinking at sunset fall + To dim eternity. + + * * * * * + + In the halls where treasured lie + The monumental stones + That stood where men no longer leave + The mockery of their bones, + + Why did I smile at the marble griefs + Who wept for the bygone joy? + Within that sorrow dwells a good + That Time can ne'er destroy. + + Th' immortal depths of sympathy + All measurements transcend, + And in man's living marble seal + The love he bears his friend. + +It would take me long to tell how much Athens has been enriched by the +munificence of her wealthy merchants, whose shrewdness and skill in +trade are known all over the world. Of some of these, dying abroad, the +words may well be quoted: "_Moriens reminiscitur Argos_," as they have +bequeathed for the benefit of their beloved city the sums of money +which have a permanent representation in the public buildings I have +mentioned, and many others. Better still than this, a number of +individuals of this class have returned to Greece, to end their days +beneath their native skies, and the social resources of the metropolis +are enlarged by their presence. + +This leads us to what may interest many more than statements concerning +buildings and antiquities,--the social aspect of Athens. + +The court and high society, or what is called such, asks our first +attention. The royal palace, a very fine one, was built by King Otho. +The present King and Queen are very simple in their tastes. One meets +them walking among the ruins and elsewhere in plain dress, with no other +escort than a large dog. The visit which I now describe took place in +Carnival time, and we heard, on our arrival, of a court ball, for which +we soon received cards. We were admonished by the proper parties to come +to the palace before nine o'clock, in order that we might be in the +ball-room before the entrance of the King and Queen. We repaired thither +accordingly, and, passing through a hall lined with officials and +servants in livery, ascended the grand staircase, and were soon in a +very elegant ball-room, well filled with a creditable _beau monde_. The +servants of the palace all wore Palikari costume,--the white skirt and +full-sleeved shirt, with embroidered vest and leggings. The ladies +present were attired with a due regard for Paris in general, and for +Worth in particular. The gentlemen were either in uniform, or in that +inexpressibly sleek and mournful costume which is called "evening +dress." + +We were presently introduced to the maids of honor, one of whom bore the +historic name of Kolokotronis. They were dressed in white, and wore +badges on which the crown and the King's initial letter were wrought in +small brilliants. Many of the ladies displayed beautiful diamonds. + +Presently a hush fell on the rapidly talking assembly. People ranged +themselves in a large circle, and the sovereigns entered. The Queen wore +a dress of white tulle embroidered with red over white silk, and a +garland of flowers in which the same color predominated. Her corsage was +adorned with knots of diamonds and rubies, and she wore a complete +_parure_ of the same costly stones. Their majesties made the round of +the circle. We, as strangers, were at once presented to the Queen, who +with great affability said to me: "I hear that you have been in Egypt, +and that your daughter ascended the great Pyramid." I made as low a +courtesy as was consistent with my dignity as president of a number of +clubs. One or two further remarks were interchanged, and the lovely, +gracious blonde moved on. + +When the presentations and salutations were over, the royal pair +proceeded to open the ball, having each some high and mighty partner +for the first _contredanse_. The Queen is very fond of dancing, and is +happier than some other queens in being allowed to waltz to her heart's +content. + +There were at the ball three of our fellow-countrymen who could dance. +Two of them wore the uniform of our navy, and had kept it very fresh and +brilliant. These Terpsichorean gentlemen were matched by three ladies +well versed in the tactics of the German. Suddenly a swanlike, circling +movement began to distinguish itself from the quick, hopping, German +waltz which prevails everywhere in Europe. People looked on with +surprise, which soon brightened into admiration. And if any one had said +to me: "What is that, mother?" I should have replied: "The Boston, my +child." + +Lest the Queen's familiarity with my movements should be thought to +imply some previous acquaintance between us, I must venture a few words +of explanation. + +In the first place, I must mention a friend, Mr. Paraskevaïdes, who had +been very helpful to Dr. Howe and myself on the occasion of our visit to +Athens in 1867. This gentleman was one of the first to greet my daughter +and myself, when she, for the first, and I, for the second time, arrived +in Athens. It was from him that we heard of the court ball just +mentioned, and through him that we received the cards enabling us to +attend it. I had given Mr. Paraskevaïdes a copy of the _Woman's +Journal_, published in Boston, containing a letter of mine describing a +recent visit to Cairo and the Pyramids. Our friend called at the palace +to speak of my presence in Athens to the proper authorities, and by +chance encountered the Queen as she was stepping into her carriage for a +drive. He told her that the widow and daughter of Dr. Howe would attend +the evening's ball. She asked what he held in his hand. "A paper, +printed in Boston, containing a letter written by Mrs. Howe." "Lend it +to me," said the Queen. "I wish to read Mrs. Howe's letter." Thus it was +that the Queen was able to greet me with so pleasant a mark of interest. + +The King and Queen withdrew just before supper was announced, which was +very considerate on their part; for, as royal personages may not eat +with others, we could not have had our supper if they had not taken +theirs elsewhere. We were then escorted to the banquet hall, where were +spread a number of tables, at which the guests stood, and regaled +themselves with such customary viands as cold chicken, salad, +sandwiches, ices, and fruit. All of the usual wines were served in +profusion, with nice black coffee to keep people awake for the German, +or, as it is called in Europe, the _cotillon_. And presently we marched +back to the ball-room, and the sovereigns re-appeared. The _Germanites_ +took chairs, the chaperons kept their modest distance, and the thing +that hath no end began, the Queen making the first loop in the mazy +weaving of the dance. The next thing that I remember was, three o'clock +in the morning, a sleepy drive in a carriage, and the talk that you +always hear going home from a party. Now, I ask, was not this orthodox? + +This being the gay season of the year, we were present at various +festivities whose elegance would have done honor to London or Paris. I +particularly remember, among these, a fancy ball at the house of Mr. and +Mrs. Zyngros. Our hostess was a beautiful woman, and looked every inch a +queen, as she stood at the head of her stately marble stairway, in the +gold and crimson costume of Catherine de Medici. The ball-room was +thronged with Spanish gipsies, Elizabethan nobles, harlequins, Arcadian +shepherds, and Greek peasants. I may also mention another ball, at which +a band of maskers made their appearance, splendidly attired, and voluble +with the squeaking tone which usually accompanies a mask. The master and +mistress of the house were prepared for this interruption, which added +greatly to the gaiety of the occasion. + +I have given a little outline of these gay doings, in order that you may +know that the modern Athens is entitled to boast that she possesses all +the appliances of civilization. Now let me say a few words of things +more interesting to people of thoughtful minds. + +I remember with great pleasure an evening passed beneath the roof of Dr. +and Mrs. Schliemann. Well known as is Dr. Schliemann by reputation, it +is less generally known that his wife, a Greek woman, has had very much +to do with both his studies and the success of his excavations. She is +considered in Greece a woman of unusual culture, being well versed in +the ancient literature of her country. I was present once at a lecture +which she gave in London, before the Royal Historical Society. At the +close of the lecture, Lord Talbot de Malahide announced that Mrs. +Schliemann had been elected a member of the society. The Duke of Argyll +was present on this occasion, and among those who commented upon the +opinions advanced in the lecture was Mr. Gladstone. Mrs. Schliemann, +however, bears her honors very modestly, and is a charming hostess, +gracious and friendly, thoroughly liked and esteemed in this her native +country, and elsewhere. + +The _soirée_ at Mrs. Schliemann's was merely a conventional reception, +with dancing to the music of a pianoforte. We were informed that our +hostess was suffering from the fatigues undergone in assisting her +husband's labors, and that the music and dancing were introduced to +spare her the strain of overmuch conversation. She was able, however, +to receive morning visitors on one day of every week, and I took +advantage of this opportunity to see her again. I spoke of her little +boy, a child of two years, who had been pointed out to me in the Park, +by my friend Paraskevaïdes. He bore the grandiose name of Agamemnon. +Presently we heard the voice of a child below stairs, and Mrs. +Schliemann said: "That is my baby; he has just come in with his nurse." +I asked that we might see him, and the nurse brought him into the +drawing-room. At sight of us, he began to kick and scream. Wishing to +soothe him, I said: "Poor little Agamemnon!" Mrs. Schliemann rejoined: +"I say, nasty little Agamemnon!" + +Is it to be supposed that I entered and left Athens without uttering the +cabalistic word "club"? By no means. I found myself one day invited to +speak to a number of ladies, at a friend's house, upon a theme of my own +choosing; and this theme was, "The Advancement of Women as Promoted by +Association." My audience, numbering about forty, was the best that +could be gathered in Athens. I found there, as I have found elsewhere in +Europe, great need of the new life which association gives, but little +courage to take the first step in a new direction. I could only scratch +my furrow, drop my seed, and wait, like _Miss Flyte_, in "Bleak House," +for a result, if need be, "on the day of judgment." + +It is a delight to speak of a deeper furrow which was drawn, ten years +earlier, by an abler hand than mine, though several of us gave some help +in the work done at that time. I allude to the efforts made by my dear +husband in behalf of the suffering Cretans, when they were struggling +bravely for the freedom which Europe still denies them. Some of the +money raised by his earnest efforts, as I have already said, found its +way to the then desolate island, in the shape of provisions and clothing +for the wives and children of the combatants. Some of it remained in +Athens, and paid for the education of a whole generation of Cretan +children exiled from their homes, and rendered able, through the aid +thus afforded, to earn their own support. + +Some of the money, moreover, went to found an industrial establishment +in Athens, which has since been continued and enlarged by funds derived +from other sources. This establishment began with two or three looms, +the Cretan women being expert weavers, and the object being to enable +them to earn their bread in a strange city. And it now has at least a +dozen looms, and the Dorian mothers, stately and powerful, sit at them +all day long, weaving dainty silken webs, gossamer stuffs, strong cotton +fabrics, and serviceable carpets. + +In those days I saw Marathon for the first time, and learned the truth +of Lord Byron's lines:-- + + The mountains look on Marathon, + And Marathon looks on the sea. + +This expedition occupied the whole of a winter day. We started from the +hotel after early breakfast, and did not regain it until long after +dark. Our carriages were accompanied by an escort of dragoons, which the +Greek government supplies, not in view of any real danger from brigands, +but in order to afford strangers every possible security. A drive of +some three hours brought us to the spot. + +A level plain, between the mountains and the sea; a mound, raised at its +centre, marking the burial-place of those who fell in the famous battle; +a sea-beach, washed by blue waves, and basking in the golden Attic +sunlight--this is what we saw at Marathon. + +Here we gathered pebbles, and I preserved for some days a knot of +daisies growing in a grassy clod of earth. But my mind saw in Marathon +an earnest of the patriotic spirit which has lifted Greece from such +ruin as the Persians were never able to inflict upon her. Worthy +descendants of those ancient heroes were the patriots who fought, in our +own century, the war of Greek independence. I am glad to think that all +heroic deeds have a fatherhood of their own, whose line never becomes +extinct. + +Those who would institute a comparison between ancient and modern art +should first compare the office of art in ancient times with the +function assigned it in our own. + +The sculptures of classic Greece were primarily the embodiment of its +popular theology and the record of its patriotic heroism. They are not, +as we might think them, fancy-free. The marble gods of Hellas +characterize for us the _morale_ of that ancient community. They +expressed the religious conviction of the artist, and corresponded to +the faith of the multitude. If we recognize the freedom of imagination +in their conception, we also feel the reverence which guided the +sculptor in their execution. As Emerson has said:-- + + Himself from God he could not free. + +How necessary these marbles were to the devotion of the time, we may +infer from the complaint reported in one of Cicero's orations,--that a +certain Greek city had been so stripped of its marbles that its people +had no god left to pray to. + +In the city of the Cæsars, this Greek art became the minister of luxury. +The ethics of the Roman people chiefly concerned their relation to the +state, to which their church was in great measure subservient. The +statues stolen from the worship of the Greeks adorned the baths and +palaces of the Emperors. This we must think providential for us, since +it is in this way that they have escaped the barbarous destruction which +for ages swept over the whole of Greece, and to whose rude force, +column, monument, and statue were only raw material for the lime-kiln. + +Still more secondary is the position of sculpture in the civilization of +to-day. Here and there a monument or statue commemorates some great name +or some great event. But these are still outside the current of our +daily life. Marble is to us a gospel of death, and we grow less and less +fond of its cold abstraction. The glitter of _bric-à-brac_, bits of +color, an unexpected shimmer here and there--such are the favorite +aspects of art with us. + +In saying this, I remember that many beautiful works of art have been +purchased by wealthy Americans, and that a surprising number of our +people know what is worth purchasing in this line. And yet I think that +in the houses of these very people, art is rather the servant of luxury +than the embodiment of any strong and sincere affection. + +We cannot turn back the tide of progress. We cannot make our religion +sculpturesque and picturesque. God forbid that we should! But we can +look upon the sculptures of ancient Greece with reverent appreciation, +and behold in them a record of the naïve and simple faith of a great +people. + +If we must speak thus of plastic art, what shall we say of the drama? + +Sit down with me before this palace of Œdipus, whose façade is the +only scenic aid brought to help the illusion of the play. See how the +whole secret and story of the hero's fate is wrought out before its +doors, which open upon his youthful strength and glory, and close upon +his desolate shame and blindness. Follow the majestic tread of the +verse, the perfect progress of the action, and learn the deep reverence +for the unseen powers which lifts and spiritualizes the agony of the +plot. + +Where shall we find a parallel to this in the drama of our day? The most +striking contrast to it will be furnished by what we call a "realistic" +play, which is a play devised upon the supposition that those who will +attend its representation are not possessed of any imagination, but must +be dazzled through their eyes and deafened through their ears, until the +fatigue of the senses shall take the place of intellectual pleasure. The +_dénouement_ will, no doubt, present, as it can, the familiar moral that +virtue is in the end rewarded, and vice punished. But such virtue! and +such vice! How shall we be sure which is which? + +During this visit, I had an interview which brought me face to face +with some of the Cretan chiefs, who were exiles in Athens at the time of +my visit, in consequence of their participation in the more recent +efforts of the Islanders to free themselves from the Turkish rule. + +I received, one day, official notice that a committee, appointed by a +number of the Cretan exiles, desired permission to wait upon me, with +the view of presenting an address which should recognize the efforts +made by Dr. Howe in behalf of their unfortunate country. In accordance +with this request, I named an hour on the following day, and at the +appointed time my guests made their appearance. The Cretan chiefs were +five in number. All of them, but one, were dressed in the picturesque +costume of their country. This one was Katzi Michælis, the youngest of +the party, and somewhat more like the world's people than the others. +Two of these were very old men, one of them numbering eighty-four years, +and bearing a calm and serene front, like one of Homer's heroes. This +was old Korakas, who had only laid down his arms within two years. The +chiefs were accompanied by several gentlemen, residents of Athens. One +of these, Mr. Rainieri, opened proceedings by a few remarks in French, +setting forth the object of the visit, and introducing the address of +the Cretan committee, which he read in their own tongue:-- + + MADAM,-- + + We, the undersigned, emigrants from Crete, who await in free Greece + the complete emancipation of our country, have learned with + pleasure the fact of your presence in Athens. We feel assured that + we shall faithfully interpret the sentiments of our + fellow-countrymen by saluting your return to this city, and by + assuring you, at the same time, that the remembrance of the + benefits conferred by your late illustrious husband is always + living in our hearts. When the sun of liberty shall arise upon the + Island of Crete, the Cretans will, no doubt, decree the erection of + a monument which will attest to succeeding generations the + gratitude of our country toward her noble benefactor. For the + moment, Madam, deign to accept the simple expression of our + sentiments, and our prayers for the prosperity of your family and + your nation, to which we and our children shall ever be bound by + the ties of gratitude. + +The substance of my reply to Mr. Rainieri was as follows:-- + + MY DEAR SIR,-- + + I beg that you will express to these gentlemen my gratitude for + their visit, and for the sentiments communicated in the address to + which I have just listened. I am much moved by the mention made of + the services which my late illustrious husband was able to render + to the cause of Greece in his youth, and to that of Crete in his + later life. It is true that his earliest efforts, outside of his + native country, were for Greek independence, and that his latest + endeavors in Europe were made in aid of the Cretans, who have + struggled with so much courage and perseverance to deliver their + country from the yoke of Turkish oppression. Pray assure these + gentlemen that my children and I will never cease to pray for the + welfare of Greece, and especially for the emancipation of Crete. + Though myself already in the decline of life, I yet hope that I + shall live long enough to see the deliverance of your island, + τἡν ἑλευθερἱαν τἡς Κρἡτης. + +A Greek newspaper's report of this occasion remarked:-- + + The last words of Mrs. Howe's reply, spoken in Greek, brought tears + to the eyes of the heroes, most of whom had known the + ever-memorable Dr. Howe in the glorious days of the war of 1821, + and had fought with him against the oppressors. Mr. Rainieri + interpreted the meaning of Mrs. Howe's words to his + fellow-citizens. After this, Mrs. Howe gave orders for + refreshments, and began to talk slowly, but distinctly, in Greek, + to the great pleasure of all present, who heard directly from her + the voice of her heart. + +I will only add that all parties stood during the official part of the +interview. This being at an end, coffee and cordials were brought, and +we sat at ease, and chatted as well as my limited use of the modern +Greek tongue allowed. Before we separated, one of the Greeks present +invited the chiefs and myself and daughter to a feast which he proposed +to give at Phaleron, in honor of the meeting which I have just +described. + +Some account of this festivity may not be uninteresting to my readers. I +must premise that it was to be no banquet of modern fashion, but a feast +of the Homeric sort, in which a lamb, roasted whole in the open air, +would be the principal dish. Phaleron, where it was appointed to take +place, is an ancient port, only three miles distant from Athens. The +sea view from this point is admirable. The bay is small, and its +surroundings are highly picturesque. Classic as was the occasion, the +unclassic railway furnished our conveyance. + +The Cretan chiefs came punctually to the station, and presently we all +entered a parlor-car, and were whisked off to the scene of action. This +was the hotel at Phaleron, where we found a long table handsomely set +out, and adorned with fruits and flowers. The company dispersed for a +short time,--some to walk by the shore; some to see the lambs roasting +on their spit in the courtyard; I, to sit quietly for half an hour, +after which interval, dinner was announced. + +Mr. Rainieri gave me his arm, and seated me on his right. On my right +sat Katzi Michælis. My daughter and a young cousin were twined in like +blooming roses between the gray old chieftains. Paraskevaïdes, the giver +of the feast, looked all aglow with pleasure and enthusiasm. Our soup +was served,--quite a worldly, French soup. But the Greeks insist that +the elaborate style of cookery usually known as French originated with +them. Then came a Cretan dish consisting of the liver and entrails of +the lambs, twisted and toasted on a spit. Some modern _entremets_ +followed, and then, as _pièce de résistance_, the lambs, with +accompanying salad. Each of the elder chiefs, before tasting his first +glass of wine, rose and saluted the company, making especial obeisance +to the master of the feast. + +The Homeric rage of hunger and thirst having been satisfied, it became +time for us to make the most of a reunion so rare in its elements, and +necessarily so brief. I will here quote partially the report given in +one of the Greek papers of the time. The writer says: "During dinner +many warm toasts were drunk. Mr. Rainieri drank to the health of Mrs. +Howe. Mr. Paraskevaïdes drank to the memory of Dr. Howe and the health +of all freedom-loving Americans, giving his toast first in Greek and +afterwards in English. To all this, Mrs. Howe made answer in French, +with great sympathy and eloquence." So the paper said, but I will only +say that I did as well as I was able. + +At the mention of Dr. Howe's name, old Korakas rose, and said: "I assure +Mrs. Howe that when, with God's will, Crete becomes free, the Cretans +will erect a statue to the memory of her ever-memorable husband." At +this time, I thought it only right to propose the memory of President +Felton, former president of Harvard University, in his day an ardent +lover of Greek literature, and of the land which gave it birth. The +eldest son of this lamented friend sat with us at the table, and had +become so proficient in the language of the country as to be able to +acknowledge the compliment in Greek, which the reporter qualifies as +excellent. Apropos of this same reporter, let me say that he entered so +heartily into the spirit of the feast as to improvise on the spot some +lines of poetry, of which the following is a free translation:-- + + I greet the warriors of brave Crete + Assembled in this place. + Each of them represents her mountains, + Each her heart, each her breath. + If life may be measured by struggles, + So great is her life, + That on the day when she becomes free + Two worlds will be filled with the joy of her freedom. + +The report says truly that the heroes of Crete, with their white beards, +resembled gods of Olympus. The three oldest--Korakas, Kriaris, and +Syphacus--spoke of the days in which Dr. Howe, while taking part with +them in the military operations of the war of Greek independence, at the +same time made his medical skill availing to the sick and wounded. + +When we had risen from the board, passing into another room, my daughter +saw a ball lying on the table, and soon engaged the ancient chiefs in +the pastime of throwing and catching it. "See," said one of the company, +"Dr. Howe's daughter is playing with the men who, fifty years ago, were +her father's companions in arms." + +After the simple patriarchal festivity, the return, even to Athens, +seemed a return to the commonplace. + +A word regarding the Greek church belongs here. Its ritual represents, +without doubt, the most ancient form of worship which can have +representation in these days. The church calls itself simply orthodox. +It classes Christians as orthodox, Romanist, and Protestant, and +condemns the two last-named confessions of faith equally as heresies. +The Greek church in Greece has little zeal for the propaganda of its +special doctrine, but it has great zeal against the introduction of any +other sect within the boundaries of its domain. Protestant and Catholic +congregations are tolerated in Greece, but the attempt to educate Greek +children in the tenets held by either is not tolerated, is in fact +prohibited by government. I found the religious quiet of Athens somewhat +disturbed by the presence of several missionaries, supported by funds +from America, who persisted in teaching and preaching; one, after the +form of the Baptist, another, after that of the Presbyterian body. The +schools formerly established in connection with these missions have been +forcibly closed, because those in charge of them would not submit them +to the religious authority of the Greek priesthood. + +The Sunday preaching of the missionaries, on the other hand, still went +on, making converts from time to time, and supplying certainly a direct +and vivid influence quite other than the extremely formal teaching of +the state church. The most prominent of these missionaries are Greeks +who have received their education in America, and who combine a fervent +love for their mother country with an equally fervent desire for her +religious progress. One can easily understand the attachment of the +Greeks to their national church. It has been the ark of safety by which +their national existence has been preserved. + +When the very name of Hellene was almost obliterated from the minds of +those entitled to bear it, the Greek priesthood were unwearied in +keeping alive the love of the ancient ritual and doctrine, the belief in +the Christian religion. This debt of gratitude is warmly remembered by +the Greeks of to-day, and their church is still to them the symbol of +national, as well as of religious, unity. On the other hand, the +progress of religious thought and culture carries inquiring minds beyond +the domain of ancient and literal interpretation, and the outward +conformity which society demands is counter-balanced by much personal +scepticism and indifference. The missionaries, who cannot compete in +polite learning with the _élite_ of their antagonists, are yet much +better informed than the greater part of the secular clergy, and +represent, besides, something of American freedom, and the right and +duty of doing one's own thinking in religious matters, and of accepting +doctrines, if at all, with a living faith and conviction, not with a +dead and formal assent. It is one of those battles between the Past and +the Future which have to fight themselves out to an issue that outsiders +cannot hasten. + +Shall I close these somewhat desultory remarks with any attempt at a +lesson which may be drawn from them? Yes; to Americans I will say: Love +Greece. Be glad of the men who rose up from your midst at the cry of her +great anguish, to do battle in her behalf. Be glad of the money which +you or your fathers sent to help her. America never spends money better +than in this way. Remember what this generation may be in danger of +forgetting,--that we can never be so great ourselves as to be absolved +from regarding the struggle for freedom, in the remotest corners of the +earth, with tender sympathy and interest. And in the great reactions +which attend human progress, when self-interest is acknowledged as the +supreme god everywhere, and the ideals of justice and honor are set out +of sight and derided, let the heart of this country be strong to protest +against military usurpation, against barbarous rule. Let America invite +to her shores the dethroned heroes of liberal thought and policy, saying +to them: "Come and abide with us; we have a country, a hand, a heart, +for you." + + + + +The Salon in America + + +THE word "society" has reached the development of two opposite meanings. +The generic term applies to the body politic _en masse_; the specific +term is technically used to designate a very limited portion of that +body. The use, nowadays, of the slang expression "sassiety" is evidence +that we need a word which we do not as yet possess. + +It is with this department of the human fellowship that I now propose to +occupy myself, and especially with one of its achievements, considered +by some a lost art,--the salon. + +This prelude of mine is somewhat after the manner of _Polonius_, but, as +Shakespeare must have had occasion to observe, the mind of age has ever +a retrospective turn. Those of us who are used to philosophizing must +always go back from a particular judgment to some governing principle +which we have found, or think we have found, in long experience. The +question whether salons are possible in America leads my thoughts to +other questions which appear to me to lie behind this one, and which +primarily concern the well-being of civilized man. + +The uses of society, in the sense of an assemblage for social +intercourse, may be briefly stated as follows: first of all, such +assemblages are needed, in order to make people better friends. +Secondly, they are needed to enlarge the individual mind by the +interchange of thought and expression with other minds. Thirdly, they +are needed for the utilization of certain sorts and degrees of talent +which would not be available either for professional, business, or +educational work, but which, appropriately combined and used, can +forward the severe labors included under these heads, by the +instrumentality of sympathy, enjoyment, and good taste. + +Any social custom or institution which can accomplish one or more of +these ends will be found of important use in the work of civilization; +but here, as well as elsewhere, the ends which the human heart desires +are defeated by the poverty of human judgment and the general ignorance +concerning the relation of means to ends. Society, thus far, is a sort +of lottery, in which there are few prizes and many blanks, and each of +these blanks represents some good to which men and women are entitled, +and which they should have, and could, if they only knew how to come at +it. + +Thus, social intercourse is sometimes so ordered that it develops +antagonism instead of harmony, and makes one set of people the enemies +of another set, dividing not only circles, but friendships and +families. This state of things defeats society's first object, which, in +my view, is to make people better friends. Secondly, it will happen, and +not seldom, that the frequent meeting together of a number of people, +necessarily restricted, instead of enlarging the social horizon of the +individual, will tend to narrow it more and more, so that sets and +cliques will revolve around small centres of interest, and refuse to +extend their scope. + +In this way, end number two, the enlargement of the individual mind is +lost sight of, and, end number three, the interchange of thought and +experience does not have room to develop itself. + +People say what they think others want to hear: they profess experiences +which they have never had. Here, consequently, a sad blank is drawn, +where we might well look for the greatest prize; and, end number four, +the utilization of secondary or even tertiary talents is defeated by the +application of a certain fashion varnish, which effaces all features of +individuality, and produces a wondrously dull surface, where we might +have hoped for a brilliant variety of form and color. + +These defects of administration being easily recognized, the great +business of social organizations ought to be to guard against them in +such wise that the short space and limited opportunity of individual +life should have offered to it the possibility of a fair and generous +investment, instead of the uncertain lottery of which I spoke just now. + +One of the great needs of society in all times is that its guardians +shall take care that rules or institutions devised for some good end +shall not become so perverted in the use made of them as to bring about +the result most opposed to that which they were intended to secure. +This, I take it, is the true meaning of the saying that "the price of +liberty is eternal vigilance," no provision to secure this being sure to +avail, without the constant direction of personal care to the object. + +The institution of the salon might, in some periods of social history, +greatly forward the substantial and good ends of human companionship. I +can easily fancy that, in other times and under other circumstances, its +influence might be detrimental to general humanity and good fellowship. +We can, in imagination, follow the two processes which I have here in +mind. The strong action of a commanding character, or of a commanding +interest, may, in the first instance, draw together those who belong +together. Fine spirits, communicative and receptive, will obey the fine +electric force which seeks to combine them,--the great wits, and the +people who can appreciate them; the poets, and their fit hearers; +philosophers, statesmen, economists, and the men and women who will be +able and eager to learn from the informal overflow of their wisdom and +knowledge. + +Here we may have a glimpse of a true republic of intelligence. What +should overthrow it? Why should it not last forever, and be handed down +from one generation to another? + +The salon is an insecure institution; first, because the exclusion of +new material, of new men and new ideas, may so girdle such a society +that its very perfection shall involve its death. Then, on account of +the false ideas and artificial methods which self-limiting society tends +to introduce, in time the genuine basis of association disappears from +view: the great _name_ is wanted for the reputation of the salon, not +the great intelligence for its illumination. The moment that you put the +name in place of the individual, you introduce an element of insincerity +and failure. + +There is a sort of homage quite common in society, which amounts to such +flattery as this: "Madam, I assure you that I consider you an eminently +brilliant and successful sham. Will you tell me your secret, or shall I, +a worker in the same line, tell you mine?" Again, the contradictory +objects of our desired salon are its weakness. We wish it to exclude the +general public, but we dreadfully desire that it shall be talked about +and envied by the general public. These two opposite aims--a severe +restriction of membership, and an unlimited extension of +reputation--are very likely to destroy the social equilibrium of any +circle, coterie, or association. + +Such contradictions have deep roots; even the general conduct of +neighborhood evinces them. People are often concerned lest those who +live near them should infringe upon the rights and reserves of their +household. In large cities, people sometimes boast with glee that they +have no acquaintance with the families dwelling on either side of them. +And yet, in some of those very cities, social intercourse is limited by +regions, and one street of fine houses will ignore another, which is, to +all appearances, as fine and as reputable. Under these circumstances, +some may naturally ask: "Who is my neighbor?" In the sense of the good +Samaritan, mostly no one. + +Dante has given us pictures of the ideal good and the ideal evil +association. The company of his demons is distracted by incessant +warfare. Weapons are hurled back and forth between them, curses and +imprecations, while the solitary souls of great sinners abide in the +torture of their own flame. As the great poet has introduced to us a +number of his acquaintance in this infernal abode, we may suppose him to +have given us his idea of much of the society of his own time. Such +appeared to him that part of the World which, with the Flesh and the +Devil, completes the trinity of evil. But, in his Paradiso, what +glimpses does he give us of the lofty spiritual communion which then, as +now, redeemed humanity from its low discredit, its spite and malice! + +Resist as we may, the Christian order is prevailing, and will more and +more prevail. At the two opposite poles of popular affection and learned +persuasion, it did overcome the world, ages ago. In the intimate details +of life, in the spirit of ordinary society, it will penetrate more and +more. We may put its features out of sight and out of mind, but they are +present in the world about us, and what we may build in ignorance or +defiance of them will not stand. Modern society itself is one of the +results of this world conquest which was crowned with thorns nearly two +thousand years ago. In spite of the selfishness of all classes of men +and women, this conquest puts the great goods of life within the reach +of all. + +I speak of Christianity here, because, as I see it, it stands in direct +opposition to the natural desire of privileged classes and circles to +keep the best things for their own advantage and enjoyment. "What, +then!" will you say, "shall society become an agrarian mob?" By no +means. Its great domain is everywhere crossed by boundaries. All of us +have our proper limits, and should keep them, when we have once learned +them. + +But all of us have a share, too, in the good and glory of human +destiny. The free course of intelligence and sympathy in our own +commonwealth establishes here a social unity which is hard to find +elsewhere. Do not let any of us go against this. Animal life itself +begins with a cell, and slowly unfolds and expands until it generates +the great electric currents which impel the world of sentient beings. + +The social and political life of America has passed out of the cell +state into the sweep of a wide and brilliant efficiency. Let us not try +to imprison this truly cosmopolitan life in cells, going back to the +instinctive selfhood of the barbaric state. + +Nature starts from cells, but develops by centres. If we want to find +the true secret of social discrimination, let us seek it in the study of +centres,--central attractions, each subordinated to the governing +harmony of the universe, but each working to keep together the social +atoms that belong together. There was a time in which the stars in our +beautiful heaven were supposed to be kept in their places by solid +mechanical contrivances, the heaven itself being an immense body that +revolved with the rest. The progress of science has taught us that the +luminous orbs which surround us are not held by mechanical bonds, but +that natural laws of attraction bind the atom to the globe, and the +globe to its orbit. + +Even so is it with the social atoms which compose humanity. Each of +them has his place, his right, his beauty; and each and all are governed +by laws of belonging which are as delicate as the tracery of the frost, +and as mighty as the frost itself. + +The club is taking the place of the salon to-day, and not without +reason. I mean by this the study, culture, and social clubs, not those +modern fortresses in which a man rather takes refuge from society than +really seeks or finds it. I have just said that mankind are governed by +centres of natural attraction, around which their lives come to revolve. +In the course of human progress, the higher centres exercise an +ever-widening attraction, and the masses of mankind are brought more and +more under their influence. + +Now, the affection of fraternal sympathy and good-will is as natural to +man, though not so immediate in him, as are any of the selfish +instincts. Objects of moral and intellectual worth call forth this +sympathy in a high and ever-increasing degree, while objects in which +self is paramount call forth just the opposite, and foster in one and +all the selfish principle, which is always one of emulation, discord, +and mutual distrust. While a salon may be administered in a generous and +disinterested manner, I should fear that it would often prove an arena +in which the most selfish leadings of human nature would assert +themselves. + +In the club, a sort of public spirit necessarily develops itself. Each +of us would like to have his place there,--yes, and his appointed little +time of shining,--but a worthy object, such as will hold together men +and women on an intellectual basis, gradually wins for itself the place +of command in the affections of those who follow it in company. Each of +these will find that his unaided efforts are insufficient for the +furthering and illustration of a great subject which all have greatly at +heart. I have been present at a forge on which the pure gold of thought +has been hammered by thinkers into the rounded sphere of an almost +perfect harmony. One and another and another gave his hit or his touch, +and when the delightful hour was at an end, each of us carried the +golden sphere away with him. + +The club which I have in mind at this moment had an unfashionable name, +and was scarcely, if at all, recognized in the general society of +Boston. It was called the Radical Club,--and the really radical feature +in it was the fact that the thoughts presented at its meetings had a +root, and were, in that sense, radical. These thoughts, entertained by +individuals of very various persuasions, often brought forth strong +oppositions of opinion. Some of us used to wax warm in the defence of +our own conviction; but our wrath was not the wrath of the peacock, +enraged to see another peacock unfold its brilliant tail, but the +concern of sincere thinkers that a subject worth discussing should not +be presented in a partial and one-sided manner, to which end, each +marked his point and said his say; and when our meeting was over, we had +all had the great instruction of looking into the minds of those to whom +truth was as dear as to ourselves, even if her aspect to them was not +exactly what it was to us. + +Here I have heard Wendell Phillips and Oliver Wendell Holmes; John Weiss +and James Freeman Clarke; Athanase Coquerel, the noble French Protestant +preacher; William Henry Channing, worthy nephew of his great uncle; +Colonel Higginson, Dr. Bartol, and many others. Extravagant things were +sometimes said, no doubt, and the equilibrium of ordinary persuasion was +not infrequently disturbed for a time; but the satisfaction of those +present when a sound basis of thought was vindicated and established is +indeed pleasant in remembrance. + +I feel tempted to introduce here one or two magic-lantern views of +certain sittings of this renowned club, of which I cherish especial +remembrance. Let me say, speaking in general terms, that, albeit the +club was more critical than devout, its criticism was rarely other than +serious and earnest. I remember that M. Coquerel's discourse there was +upon "The Protestantism of Art," and that in it he combated the +generally received idea that the church of Rome has always stood first +in the patronage and inspiration of art. The great Dutch painters, +Holbein, Rembrandt, and their fellows, were not Roman Catholics. Michael +Angelo was protestant in spirit; so was Dante. I cannot recall with much +particularity the details of things heard so many years ago, but I +remember the presence at this meeting of Charles Sumner, George Hillard, +and Dr. Hedge. Mr. Sumner declined to take any part in the discussion +which followed M. Coquerel's discourse. Colonel Higginson, who was often +present at these meetings, maintained his view that Protestantism was +simply the decline of the Christian religion. Mr. Hillard quoted St. +James's definition of religion, pure and undefiled,--to visit the +fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted +from the world. Dr. Hedge, who was about to withdraw, paused for a +moment to say: "The word 'religion' is not rightly translated there; it +should mean"--I forgot what. The doctor's tone and manner very much +impressed a friend, who afterwards said to me: "Did he not go away 'like +one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him'?" + +Or it might be that John Weiss, he whom a lady writer once described as +"four parts spirit and one part flesh," gave us his paper on Prometheus, +or one on music, or propounded his theory of how the world came into +existence. Colonel Higginson would descant upon the Greek goddesses, as +representing the feminine ideals of the Greek mythology, which he held +to be superior to the Christian ideals of womanhood,--dear Elizabeth +Peabody and I meeting him in earnest opposition. David Wasson, powerful +in verse and in prose, would speak against woman suffrage. When driven +to the wall, he confessed that he did not believe in popular suffrage at +all; and when forced to defend this position, he would instance the +wicked and ill-governed city of New York as reason enough for his views. +I remember his going away after such a discussion very abruptly, not at +all in Dr. Hedge's grand style, but rather as if he shook the dust of +our opinions from his feet; for no one of the radicals would countenance +this doctrine, and though we freely confessed the sins of New York, we +believed not a whit the less in the elective franchise, with amendments +and extensions. + +Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, one day, if I remember rightly, gave a very +succinct and clear statement of the early forms of Calvinistic doctrine +as held in this country, and Wendell Phillips lent his eloquent speech +to this and to other discussions. + +When I think of it, I believe that I had a salon once upon a time. I did +not call it so, nor even think of it as such; yet within it were +gathered people who represented many and various aspects of life. They +were real people, not lay figures distinguished by names and clothes. +The earnest humanitarian interests of my husband brought to our home a +number of persons interested in reform, education, and progress. It was +my part to mix in with this graver element as much of social grace and +geniality as I was able to gather about me. I was never afraid to bring +together persons who rarely met elsewhere than at my house, confronting +Theodore Parker with some archpriest of the old orthodoxy, or William +Lloyd Garrison with a decade, perhaps, of Beacon Street dames. A friend +said, on one of these occasions: "Our hostess delights in contrasts." I +confess that I did; but I think that my greatest pleasure was in the +lessons of human compatibility which I learned on this wise. I started, +indeed, with the conviction that thought and character are the foremost +values in society, and was not afraid nor ashamed to offer these to my +guests, with or without the stamp of fashion and position. The result +amply justified my belief. + +Some periods in our own history are more favorable to such intercourse +than others. The agony and enthusiasm of the civil war, and the long +period of ferment and disturbance which preceded and followed that great +crisis,--these social agitations penetrated the very fossils of the body +politic. People were glad to meet together, glad to find strength and +comfort among those who lived and walked by solid convictions. We cannot +go back to that time; we would not, if we could; but it was a grand time +to live and to work in. + +I am sorry when I see people build palaces in America. We do not need +them. Why should we bury fortune and life in the dead state of rooms +which are not lived in? Why should we double and triple for ourselves +the dangers of insufficient drainage or defective sanitation? Let us +have such houses as we need,--comfortable, well aired, well lighted, +adorned with such art as we can appreciate, enlivened by such company as +we can enjoy. Similarly, I believe that we should, individually, come +much nearer to the real purpose of a salon by restricting the number of +our guests and enlarging their variety. + +If we are to have a salon, do not let us think too much about its +appearance to the outside world,--how it will be reported, and extolled, +and envied. Mr. Emerson withdrew from the Boston Radical Club because +newspaper reports of its meetings were allowed. We live too much in +public to-day, and desire too much the seal of public notice. + +There is not room in our short human life for both shams and realities. +We can neither pursue nor possess both. I think of this now entirely +with application to the theme under consideration. Let us not exercise +sham hospitality to sham friends. Let the heart of our household be +sincere; let our home affections expand to a wider human brotherhood and +sisterhood. Let us be willing to take trouble to gather our friends +together, and to offer them such entertainment as we can, remembering +that the best entertainment is mutual. + +But do not let us offend ourselves or our friends with the glare of +lights, the noise of numbers, in order that all may suffer a tedious and +joyless being together, and part as those who have contributed to each +other's _ennui_, all sincere and reasonable intercourse having been +wanting in the general encounter. + +We should not feel bound, either, to the literal imitation of any facts +or features of European life which may not fit well upon our own. In +many countries, the currents of human life have become so deepened and +strengthened by habit and custom as to render change very difficult, and +growth almost impossible. In our own, on the contrary, life is fresh and +fluent. Its boundaries should be elastic, capable even of indefinite +expansion. + +In the older countries of which I speak, political power and social +recognition are supposed to emanate from some autocratic source, and the +effort and ambition of all naturally look toward that source, and, +knowing none other, feel a personal interest in maintaining its +ascendency, the statu quo. In our own broad land, power and light have +no such inevitable abiding-place, but may emanate from an endless +variety of points and personalities. + +The other mode of living may have much to recommend it for those to whom +it is native and inherited, but it is not for us. And when we apologize +for our needs and deficiencies, it should not be on the ground of our +youth and inexperience. If the settlement of our country is recent, we +have behind us all the experience of the human race, and are bound to +represent its fuller and riper manhood. Our seriousness is sometimes +complained of, usually by people whose jests and pleasantries fail to +amuse us. Let us not apologize for this, nor envy any nation its power +of trifling and of _persiflage_. We have mighty problems to solve; great +questions to answer. The fate of the world's future is concerned in what +we shall do or leave undone. + +We are a people of workers, and we love work--shame on him who is +ashamed of it! When we are found, on our own or other shores, idling our +life away, careless of vital issues, ignorant of true principles, then +may we apologize, then let us make haste to amend. + + + + +Aristophanes + + +WHEN I learned, last season, that the attention of the school[A] this +year would be in a good degree given to the dramatists of ancient +Greece, I was seized with a desire to speak of one of these, to whom I +owe a debt of gratitude. This is the great Aristophanes, the first, and +the most illustrious, of comic writers for the stage,--first and best, +at least, of those known to Western literature. + +In the chance talk of people of culture, one hears of him all one's life +long, as exceedingly amusing. From my brothers in college, I learned the +"Frog Chorus" before I knew even a letter of the Greek alphabet. Many a +decade after this, I walked in the theatre of Bacchus at Athens, and +seeing the beauty of the marble seats, still ranged in perfect order, +and feeling the glory and dignity of the whole surrounding, I seemed to +guess that the comedies represented there were not desired to amuse idle +clowns nor to provoke vulgar laughter. + +[Note A] Read before the Concord School of Philosophy. + +At the foot of the Acropolis, with the Parthenon in sight and the +colossal statue of Minerva towering above the glittering temples, the +poet and his audience surely had need to bethink themselves of the +wisdom which lies in laughter, of the ethics of the humorous,--a topic +well worth the consideration of students of philosophy. The ethics of +the humorous, the laughter of the gods! "He that sitteth in the heavens +shall laugh them to scorn." Did not even the gentle Christ intend satire +when, after recognizing the zeal with which an ox or an ass would be +drawn out of a pit on the sacred day, he asked: "And shall not this +woman, whom Satan hath bound, lo! these eighteen years, be loosed from +her infirmity on the sabbath day?" + +When a Greek tragedy is performed before us, we are amazed at its force, +its coherence, and its simplicity. What profound study and quick sense +of the heroic in nature must have characterized the man who, across the +great gulf of centuries, can so sweep our heart-strings, and draw from +them such responsive music! Our praise of these great works almost +sounds conceited. It would be more fitting for us to sit in silence and +bewail our own smallness. Comedy, too, has her grandeur; and when she +walks the stage in robe and buskins, she, too, is to receive the highest +crown, and her lessons are to be laid to heart. + +I will venture a word here concerning the subjective side of comedy. Is +it the very depth and quick of our self-love which is reached by the +subtle sting which calls up a blush where no sermonizing would have that +effect? Deep satire touches the heroic within us. "Miserable sinners are +ye all," says the preacher, "vanity of vanities!" and we sit +contentedly, and say Amen. But here comes some one who sets up our +meannesses and incongruities before us so that they topple over and +tumble down. And then, strange to say, we feel in ourselves this same +power; and considering our follies in the same light, we are compelled +to deride, and also to forsake them. + +The miseries of war and the desirableness of peace were impressed +strongly on the mind of Aristophanes. The Peloponnesian War dragged on +from year to year with varying fortune; and though victory often crowned +the arms of the Athenians, its glory was dearly paid for by the +devastation which the Lacedæmonians inflicted upon the territory of +Attica. "The Acharnians," "The Knights," and "Peace" deal with this +topic in various forms. In the first of these is introduced, as the +chief character, Dikæopolis, a country gentleman who, in consequence of +the Spartan invasion, has been forced to forsake his estates, and to +take shelter in the city. He naturally desires the speedy conclusion of +hostilities, and to this end attends the assembly, determined, as he +says: + + To bawl, to abuse, to interrupt the speakers + Whenever I hear a word of any kind, + Except for an immediate peace. + +This method reminds us of the obstructionists in the British Parliament. +One man speaks of himself as loathing the city and longing to return + + To my poor village and my farm + That never used to cry: "Come buy my charcoal," + Nor "buy my oil," nor "buy my anything," + But gave me what I wanted, freely and fairly, + Clear of all cost, with never a word of buying. + +After various laughable adventures, Dikæopolis finds it possible to +conclude a truce with the invaders on his own account, in which his +neighbors, the Acharnians, are not included. He returns to his farm, and +goes forth with wife and daughter to perform the sacrifice fitting for +the occasion. + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + Silence! Move forward, the Canephora. + You, Xanthias, follow close behind her there + In a proper manner, with your pole and emblem. + + WIFE + + Set down the basket, daughter, and begin + The ceremony. + + DAUGHTER + + Give me the cruet, mother, + And let me pour it on the holy cake. + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + O blessed Bacchus, what a joy it is + To go thus unmolested, undisturbed, + My wife, my children, and my family, + With our accustomed joyful ceremony, + To celebrate thy festival in my farm. + Well, here's success to the truce of thirty years. + + WIFE + + Mind your behavior, child. Carry the basket + In a modest, proper manner; look demure; + Mind your gold trinkets, they'll be stolen else. + +Dikæopolis now intones a hymn to Bacchus, but is interrupted by the +violent threats of his war-loving neighbors, the Acharnians, who break +out in injurious language, and threaten the life of the miscreant who +has made peace with the enemies of his country solely for his own +interests. With a good deal of difficulty, he persuades the enraged +crowd to allow him to argue his case before them, and this fact makes us +acquainted with another leading trait in Aristophanes; viz., his polemic +opposition to the poet Euripides. Dikæopolis, wishing to make a +favorable impression upon the rustics, hies to the house of Euripides, +whose servant parleys with him in true transcendental language. + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + Euripides within? + + SERVANT + + Within, and not within. You comprehend me? + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + Within and not within! What do you mean? + + SERVANT + + His outward man + Is in the garret writing tragedy; + While his essential being is abroad + Pursuing whimsies in the world of fancy. + +The visitor now calls aloud upon the poet: + + Euripides, Euripides, come down, + If ever you came down in all your life! + 'Tis I, Dikæopolis, from Chollidæ. + +This Chollidæ probably corresponded to the Pea Ridge often quoted +in our day. Euripides declines to come down, but is presently made +visible by some device of the scene-shifter. In the dialogue that +follows, Aristophanes ridicules the personages and the costumes +brought upon the stage by Euripides, and reflects unhandsomely upon +the poet's mother, who was said to have been a vender of +vegetables. Dikæopolis does not seek to borrow poetry or eloquence +from Euripides, but prays him to lend him "a suit of tatters from a +worn-out tragedy." + + For mercy's sake, for I'm obliged to make + A speech in my own defence before the chorus, + A long pathetic speech, this very day, + And if it fails, the doom of death betides me. + +Euripides now asks what especial costume would suit the need of +Dikæopolis, and calls over the most pitiful names in his tragedies: +"Do you want the dress of Oineos?"--"Oh, no! something much more +wretched."--"Phœnix? "--"No; much worse than +Phœnix."--"Philocletes?"--"No."--"Lame Bellerophon?" Dikæopolis +says: + + 'Twas not Bellerophon, but very like him, + A kind of smooth, fine-spoken character; + A beggar into the bargain, and a cripple + With a grand command of words, bothering and begging. + +Euripides by this description recognizes the personage intended, +_viz._, Telephus, the physician, and orders his servant to go and +fetch the ragged suit, which he will find "next to the tatters of +Thyestes, just over Ino's." Dikæopolis exclaims, on seeing the mass +of holes and patches, but asks, further, a little Mysian bonnet for +his head, a beggar's staff, a dirty little basket, a broken pipkin; +all of which Euripides grants, to be rid of him. All this insolence +the visitor sums up in the following lines:-- + + I wish I may be hanged, my dear Euripides, + If ever I trouble you for anything, + Except one little, little, little boon, + A single lettuce from your mother's stall. + +This is more than Euripides can bear, and the gates are now shut upon +the intruder. + +Later in the play, Dikæopolis appears in company with the General +Lamachus. A sudden call summons this last to muster his men and march +forth to repel a party of marauders. Almost at the same moment, +Dikæopolis is summoned to attend the feast of Bacchus, and to bring his +best cookery with him. In the dialogue that follows, the valiant soldier +and the valiant trencherman appear in humorous contrast. + + LAMACHUS + + Boy, boy, bring out here my haversack. + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + Boy, boy, hither bring my dinner service. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring salt flavored with thyme, boy, and onions. + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + Bring me a cutlet. Onions make me ill. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring hither pickled fish, stale. + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + And to me a fat pudding. I will cook it yonder. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring me my plumes and my helmet. + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + Bring me doves and thrushes. + + LAMACHUS + + Fair and white is the plume of the ostrich. + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + Fair and yellow is the flesh of the dove. + + LAMACHUS + + O man! leave off laughing at my weapons. + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + O man! don't you look at my thrushes. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring the case that holds my plumes. + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + And bring me a dish of hare. + + LAMACHUS + + But the moths have eaten my crest. + +Dikæopolis makes some insolent rejoinder, at which the general takes +fire. He calls for his lance; Dikæopolis, for the spit, which he frees +from the roast meat. Lamachus raises his Gorgon-orbed shield; Dikæopolis +lifts a full-orbed pancake. Lamachus then performs a mock act of +divination:-- + + Pour oil upon the shield. What do I trace + In the divining mirror? 'Tis the face + Of an old coward, fortified with fear, + That sees his trial for desertion near. + + DIKÆOPOLIS + + Pour honey on the pancake. What appears? + A comely personage, advanced in years, + Firmly resolved to laugh at and defy + Both Lamachus and the Gorgon family. + +In "The Frogs," god and demigod, Bacchus and Hercules, are put upon the +stage with audacious humor. The first has borrowed the costume of the +second, in which unfitting garb he knocks at Hercules' door on his way +to Hades, his errand being to find and bring back Euripides. The dearth +of clever poets is the reason alleged for this undertaking. Hercules +suggests to him various poets who are still on earth. Bacchus condemns +them as "warblers of the grove; poor, puny wretches!" He now asks +Hercules for introductions to his friends in the lower regions, and for + + Any communication about the country, + The roads, the streets, the bridges, public houses + And lodgings, free from bugs and fleas, if possible. + +Hercules mentions various ways of arriving at the infernal regions: "The +hanging road,--rope and noose?"--"That's too stifling."--"The pestle and +mortar, then,--the beaten road?"--"No; that gives one cold feet."--"Go, +then, to the tower of the Keramicus, and throw yourself headlong." No; +Bacchus does not wish to have his brains dashed out. He would go by the +road which Hercules took. Of this, Hercules gives an alarming account, +beginning with the bottomless lake and the boat of Charon. Bacchus +determines to set forth, but is detained by the recalcitrance of his +servant, Xanthias, who refuses to carry his bundle any further. + +A funeral now comes across the stage. Bacchus asks the dead man if he is +willing to carry some bundles to Hell for him. The dead man demands two +drachmas for the service. Bacchus offers him ninepence, which he angrily +refuses, and is carried out of sight. Charon presently appears, and +makes known, like a good ferryman, the points at which he will deliver +passengers. + + Who wants the ferryman? + Anybody waiting to remove from the sorrows of life? + A passage to Lethe's wharf? to Cerberus' Beach? + To Tartarus? to Tenaros? to Perdition? + +Just so, in my youth, sailing on the Hudson, one heard all night the +sound of Peekskill landing! Fishkill landing! Rhinebeck landing!--with +darkness and swish of steam quite infernal enough. + +Charon takes Bacchus on board, but compels him to do his part of the +rowing, promising him: "As soon as you begin you shall have music that +will teach you to keep time." + +This music is the famous "Chorus of the Frogs," beginning, "Brokekekesh, +koash, koash," and running through many lines, with this occasional +refrain, of which Bacchus soon tires, as he does of the oar. His servant +Xanthias is obliged to make the journey by land and on foot, Charon +bidding him wait for his master at the Stone of Repentance, by the +Slough of Despond, beyond the Tribulations. After encountering the +Empousa, a nursery hobgoblin, they meet the spirits of the initiated, +singing hymns to Bacchus--whom they invoke as Jacchus--and to Ceres. +This part of the play, intended, Frere says, to ridicule the Eleusinian +mysteries, is curiously human in its incongruity,--a jumble of the +beautiful and the trivial. I must quote from it the closing strophe:-- + + Let us hasten, let us fly + Where the lovely meadows lie, + Where the living waters flow, + Where the roses bloom and blow. + Heirs of immortality, + Segregated safe and pure, + Easy, sorrowless, secure, + Since our earthly course is run, + We behold a brighter sun. + +Such sweet words we to-day could expect to hear from the lips of our own +dear ones, gone before. + +Very incongruous is certainly this picture of Bacchus, in a cowardly and +ribald state of mind, listening to the hymn which celebrates his divine +aspect. Jacchus, whom the spirits invoke, is the glorified Bacchus, the +highest ideal of what was vital religion in those days. But the god +himself is not professionally, only personally, present, and, wearing +the disguise of Hercules, in no way notices or responds to the strophes +which invoke him. He asks the band indeed to direct him to Pluto's +house, which turns out to be near at hand. + +Before its door, Bacchus is seized with such a fit of timidity that, +instead of knocking, he asks his servant to tell him how the native +inhabitants of the region knock at doors. Reproved by the servant, he +knocks, and announces himself as the valiant Hercules. Æacus, the +porter, now rushes out upon him with violent abuse, reviling him for +having stolen, or attempted to steal, the watch-dog, Cerberus, and +threatening him with every horror which Hell can inflict. Æacus departs, +and Bacchus persuades his servant to don the borrowed garb of Hercules, +while he loads himself with the baggage which the other was carrying. +Proserpine, however, sends her maid to invite the supposed Hercules to a +feast of dainties. Xanthias now assumes the manners befitting the hero, +at which Bacchus orders him to change dresses with him once more, and +assume his own costume, which he does. Hardly have they done this, when +Bacchus is again set upon by two frantic women, who shriek in his ears +the deeds of gluttony committed by Hercules in Hades, and not paid for. + + There; that's he + That came to our house, ate those nineteen loaves. + Aye; sure enough. That's he, the very man; + And a dozen and a half of cutlets and fried chops, + At a penny ha' penny apiece. And all the garlic, + And the good green cheese that he gorged at once. + And then, when I called for payment, he looked fierce + And stared me in the face, and grinned and roared. + +The women threaten the false Hercules with the pains and penalties of +swindling. He now pretends to soliloquize: "I love poor Xanthias dearly; +that I do." + +"Yes," says Xanthias, "I know why; but it's of no use. I won't act +Hercules." Xanthias, however, allows himself to be persuaded, and when +Æacus, appearing with a force, cries: "Arrest me there that fellow that +stole the dog," Xanthias contrives to make an effectual resistance. +Having thus gained time, he assures Æacus that he never stole so much as +a hair of his dog's tail; but gives him leave to put Bacchus, his +supposed slave, to the torture, in order to elicit from him the truth. +Æacus, softened by this proposal, asks in which way the master would +prefer to have his slave tortured. Xanthias replies: + + In your own way, with the lash, with knots and screws, + With the common, usual, customary tortures, + With the rack, with the water torture, any sort of way, + With fire and vinegar--all sorts of ways. + +Bacchus, thus driven to the wall, proclaims his divinity, and claims +Xanthias as his slave. The latter suggests that if Bacchus is a +divinity, he may be beaten without injury, as he will not feel it. +Bacchus retorts, "If you are Hercules, so may you." Æacus, to ascertain +the truth, impartially belabors them both. Each, in turn, cries out, and +pretends to have quoted from the poets. Æacus, unable to decide which is +the god and which the impostor, brings them both before Proserpine and +Pluto. + +In the course of a delicious dialogue between the two servants, Æacus +and Xanthias, it is mentioned that Euripides, on coming to the shades, +had driven Æschylus from the seat of honor at Pluto's board, holding +himself to be the worthier poet. Æschylus has objected to this, and the +matter is now to be settled by a trial of skill in which Bacchus is to +be the umpire. + +The shades of Euripides and Æschylus appear in the next scene, with +Bacchus between them. Æschylus wishes the trial had taken place +elsewhere. Why? Because while his tragedies live on earth, those of +Euripides are dead, and have descended with him to bear him company in +Hell. The encounter of wits between the two is of the grandiose comic, +each taunting the other with his faults of composition. Euripides says +of Æschylus: + + He never used a simple word + But bulwarks and scamanders and hippogriffs and Gorgons, + Bloody, remorseless phrases. + +Æschylus rejoins: + + Well, then, thou paltry wretch, explain + What were your own devices? + +Euripides says that he found the Muse + + Puffed and pampered + With pompous sentences, a cumbrous huge virago. + +In order to bring her to a more genteel figure: + + I fed her with plain household phrase and cool familiar salad, + With water gruel episode, with sentimental jelly, + With moral mince-meat, till at length I brought her into compass. + I kept my plots distinct and clear to prevent confusion. + My leading characters rehearsed their pedigrees for prologues. + +"For all this," says Æschylus, "you ought to have been hanged." Æschylus +now speaks of the grand old days, of the great themes and works of early +poetry: + + Such is the duty, the task of a poet, + Fulfilling in honor his duty and trust. + Look to traditional history, look; + See what a blessing illustrious poets + Conferred on mankind in the centuries past. + Orpheus instructed mankind in religion, + Reclaimed them from bloodshed and barbarous rites. + Musæus delivered the doctrine of medicine, + And warnings prophetic for ages to come. + Next came old Hesiod, teaching us husbandry, + Rural economy, rural astronomy, + Homely morality, labor and thrift. + Homer himself, our adorable Homer, + What was his title to praise and renown? + What but the worth of the lessons he taught us, + Discipline, arms, and equipment of war. + +And here the poet comes to speak of a question which is surely prominent +to-day in the minds of thoughtful people. Æschylus, in his argument +against Euripides, speaks of the noble examples which he himself has +brought upon the stage, reproaches his adversary with the objectionable +stories of Sthenobæus and Phædra, with which he, Euripides has corrupted +the public taste. + +Euripides alleges in his own defence that he did not invent those +stories. "Phædra's affair was a matter of fact." Æschylus rejoins: + + A fact with a vengeance, but horrible facts + Should be buried in silence, not bruited abroad, + Nor brought forth on the stage, nor emblazoned in poetry. + Children and boys have a teacher assigned them; + The bard is a master for manhood and youth, + Bound to instruct them in virtue and truth + Beholden and bound. + +I do not know which of the plays of Aristophanes is considered the best +by those who are competent to speak authoritatively upon their merits; +but of those that I know, this drama of "The Frogs" seems to me to +exhibit most fully the scope and extent of his comic power. +Condescending in parts to what is called low comedy,--_i.e._, the +farcical, based upon the sense of what all know and experience,--it +rises elsewhere to the highest domain of literary criticism and +expression. + +The action between Bacchus and his slave forcibly reminds us of +Cervantes, though master and man alike have in them more of Sancho Panza +than of Quixote. In the journey to the palace of Pluto, I see the +prototype of what the great mediæval poet called "The Divine Comedy." I +find in both the same weird imagination, the same curious interbraiding +of the ridiculous and the grandiose. This, of course, with the +difference that the Greek poet affords us only a brief view of Hell, +while Dante detains us long enough to give us a realizing sense of what +it is, or might be. This same mingling of the awful and the grotesque +suggests to me passages in our own Hawthorne, similarly at home with +the supernatural, which underlies the story of "The Scarlet Letter," +and flashes out in "The Celestial Railroad." But I must come back to +Dante, who can amuse us with the tricks of demons, and can lift us to +the music of the spheres. So Aristophanes can show us, on the one hand, +the humorous relations of a coward and a clown; and, on the other, can +put into the mouth of the great Æschylus such words as he might fitly +have spoken. + +Perhaps the very extravagance of fun is carried even further in the +drama of "The Birds" than in those already quoted from. Its conceits +are, at any rate, most original, and, so far as I know, it is without +prototype or parallel in its matter and manner. + +The argument of the play can be briefly stated. Peisthetairus, an +Athenian citizen, dissatisfied with the state of things in his own +country, visits the Hoopœ with the intention of securing his +assistance in founding a new state, the dominion of the birds. He takes +with him a good-natured simpleton of a friend, Well-hoping, by name. Now +the Hoopœ in question, according to the old legend, had been known in +a previous state of being as Tereus, King of Thrace, and the +metamorphosis which changed him to a bird had changed his subjects also +into representatives of the various feathered tribes. These, however, +far from sharing the polite and hospitable character of their master, +become enraged at the intrusion of the strangers, and propose to attack +them in military style. The visitors seize a spit, the lid of a pot, and +various other culinary articles, and prepare to make what defence they +may, while the birds "present beaks," and prepare to charge. The +Hoopœ here interposes, and claims their attention for the project +which Peisthetairus has to unfold. + +The wily Athenian begins his address with prodigious flattery, calling +the feathered folk "a people of sovereigns," more ancient of origin than +man, his deities, or his world. In support of this last clause, he +quotes a fable of Æsop, who narrates that the lark was embarrassed to +bury his father, because the earth did not exist at the time of his +death. Sovereignty, of old, belonged to the birds. The stride of the +cock sufficiently shows his royal origin, and his authority is still +made evident by the alacrity with which the whole slumbering world +responds to his morning reveille. The kite once reigned in Greece; the +cuckoo in Sidon and Egypt. Jupiter has usurped the eagle's command, but +dares not appear without him, while + + Each of the gods had his separate fowl,-- + Apollo the hawk and Minerva the owl. + +Peisthetairus proposes that, in order to recover their lost sovereignty, +the birds shall build in the air a strongly fortified city. This done, +they shall send a herald to Jove to demand his immediate abdication. If +the celestials refuse to govern themselves accordingly, they are to be +blockaded. This blockade seems presently to obtain, and heavenly Iris, +flying across the sky on a message from the gods, is caught, arraigned, +and declared worthy of death,--the penalty of non-observance. The +prospective city receives the name of "Nephelococcagia," and this is +scarcely decided upon before a poet arrives to celebrate in an ode the +mighty Nephelococcagia state. + +Then comes a soothsayer to order the appropriate sacrifices; then an +astronomer, with instruments to measure the due proportions of the city; +then a would-be parricide, who announces himself as a lover of the bird +empire, and especially of that law which allows a man to beat his +father. Peisthetairus confesses that, in the bird domain, the chicken is +sometimes applauded for clapper-clawing the old cock. When, however, his +visitor expresses a wish to throttle his parent and seize upon his +estate, Peisthetairus refers him to the law of the storks, by which the +son is under obligation to feed and maintain the parent. This law, he +says, prevails in Nephelococcagia, and the parricide accordingly betakes +himself elsewhere. + +All this admirable fooling ends in the complete success of the birds. +Jupiter sends an embassy to treat for peace, and by a curious juggle, +imitating, no doubt, the political processes of those days, +Peisthetairus becomes recognized as the lawful sovereign of +Nephelococcagia, and receives, on his demand, the hand of Jupiter's +favorite queen in marriage. + +I have given my time too fully to the Greek poet to be able to make any +extended comparison between his works and those of the Elizabethan +dramatists. But from the plays which trifle so with the grim facts of +nature, I can fly to the "Midsummer Night's Dream," and alight for a +moment on one of its golden branches. Shakespeare's Athenian clowns are +rather Aristophanic in color. The play of "Pyramus and Thisbe" might +have formed one interlude on that very stage which had in sight the +glories of the Parthenon. The exquisite poetry which redeems their +nonsense has its parallel in the lovely "Chorus of the Clouds," the ode +to Peace, and other glimpses of the serious Aristophanes, which here and +there look out from behind the mask of the comedian. + +I am very doubtful whether good Greek scholars will think my selections +given here at all the best that could be made. I will remind them of an +Eastern tale in which a party of travellers were led, in the dark, +through an enchanted region in which showers of some unknown substance +fell around them, while a voice cried: "They that do not gather any will +grieve, and they who do gather will grieve that they did not gather +more, for these that fall are diamonds." So, of these bright diamonds of +matchless Greek wit, I have tried to gather some, but may well say I +grieve that I have not gathered more, and more wisely. + +These works are to us exquisite pieces of humoristic extravagance, but +to the people of the time they were far more than this; _viz._, the +lesson of ridicule for what was tasteless and ridiculous in Athenian +society, and the punishment of scathing satire for what was unworthy. +Annotators tell us that the plays are full of allusions to prominent +characters of the day. Some of these, as is well known, the poet sets +upon the stage in masquerades which reveal, more than they conceal, +their true personality. For the demagogue Cleon, and for the playwright +Euripides, he has no mercy. + +The patient student of Aristophanes and his commentators will acquire a +very competent knowledge of the politics of the wise little city at the +time of which he treats, also of its literary personages, pedants or +sophists. The works give us, I think, a very favorable impression of the +public to whose apprehension they were presented,--a quick-witted +people, surely, able to follow the sudden turns and doublings of the +poet's fancy; not to be surprised into stupidity by any ambush sprung +upon them out of obscurity. + +Compare with this the difficulty of commending anything worth thinking +of to the attention of a modern theatre audience. It is true that much +of this Greek wit must needs have been _caviare_ to the multitude, but +its seasoning, no doubt, penetrated the body politic. I remember, a +score or more of years ago, that a friend said that it was good and +useful to have some public characters Beecherized, alluding to the broad +and bold presentment of them given from time to time by our great +clerical humorist, Henry Ward Beecher. Very efficacious, one thinks, +must have been this scourge which the Greek comic muse wielded so +merrily, but so unmercifully. + +Although Aristophanes is very severe upon individuals, he does not, I +think, foster any class enmities, except, perhaps, against the sophists. +Although a city man, he treats the rustic population with great +tenderness, and the glimpses he gives us of country life are sweet and +genial. In this, he contrasts with the French playwrights of our time, +to whom city life is everything, and the province synonymous with all +that is dull and empty of interest. + +How can I dismiss the comedy of that day without one word concerning its +immortal tragedy,--Socrates, the divine man, compared and comparable to +Christ, chained in his dungeon and condemned to die? The most blameless +life could not save that sacred head. Its illumination, in which we sit +here to-day, drew to it the shafts of superstition, malice, and +wickedness. The comic poet might present on the stage such pictures of +the popular deities as would make the welkin ring with the roar of +laughter. This was not impiety. But Socrates, showing no disrespect to +these idols of the current persuasion, only daring to discern beyond +them God in his divineness, truth in her awful beauty,--_he_ must die +the death of the profane. + +It is a bitter story, surely, but "it must needs be that offences come." +Where should we be to-day if no one in human history had loved high +doctrine well enough to die for it? At such cost were these great +lessons given us. How can we thank God or man enough for them? + +The athletics of human thought are the true Olympian games. Human error +is wise and logical in its way. It confronts its antagonist with +terrific weapons; it seizes and sways him with a Titanic will force. It +knows where to attack, and how. It knows the spirit that would be death +to it, could that spirit prevail. It closes in the death grapple; the +arena is red with the blood of its victim, but from that blood immortal +springs a new world, a new society. + +One word, in conclusion, about the Greek language. Valuable as +translations are, they can never, to the student, take the place of +originals. I have stumbled through these works with the lamest +knowledge of Greek, and with no one to help me. I have quoted from +admirable renderings of them into English. Yet, even in such delicate +handling as that of Frere, the racy quality of the Greek phrase +evaporates, like some subtle perfume; while the music of the grand +rhythm, which the ear seems able to get through the eye, is lost. + +The Greek tongue belongs to the history of thought. The language that +gives us such distinctions as _nous_ and _logos_, as _gy_ and _kosmos_, +has been the great pedagogue of our race, has laid the foundations of +modern thought. Let us, by all means, help ourselves with Frere, with +Jowett, and a multitude of other literary benefactors. But let us all +get a little Greek on our own account, for the sake of our Socrates and +of our Christ. And as the great but intolerant Agassiz had it for his +motto that "species do not transmute," let this school have among its +mottoes this one: "True learning does not de-Hellenize." + + + + +The Halfness of Nature + + +THE great office of ethics and æsthetics is the reconciliation of God +and man; that is, of the divine and disinterested part of human nature +with its selfish and animal opposite. + +This opposition exists, primarily, in the individual; secondarily, in +the society formed out of individuals. Human institutions typify the +two, with their mutual influence and contradictions. The church +represents the one; the market, the other. The battle-field and the +hospital, the school and the forum, are further terms of the same +antithesis. Nature does so much for the man, and the material she +furnishes is so indispensable to all the constructions which we found +upon it, that the last thing a teacher can afford to do is to undervalue +her gifts. When critical agencies go so far as to do this, revolution is +imminent: Nature reasserts herself. + +Equally impotent is Nature where institutions do not supply the help of +Art. When this state of things perseveres, she dwindles instead of +growing. She becomes meagre, not grandiose. Men hunt, but do not +cultivate. Women drudge and bear offspring, but neither comfort nor +inspire. + +Let us examine a little into what Nature gives, and into what she does +not give. In the domain of thought and religion, people dispute much on +this head, and are mostly ranged in two parties, of which one claims for +her everything, while the other allows her nothing. + +In this controversy, we can begin with one point beyond dispute. Nature +gives the man, but she certainly does not give the clothes. Having +received his own body, he has to go far and work hard in order to cover +it. + +Nature again scarcely gives human food. Roots, berries, wild fruit, and +raw flesh would not make a very luxurious diet for the king of creation. +Even this last staple Nature does not supply gratis, and the art of +killing is man's earliest discovery in the lesson of self-sustenance. So +Death becomes the succursal of life. The sense of this originates, +first, the art of hunting; secondly, the art of war. + +Nature gives the religious impulse, originating in the further pole of +primal thought. The alternation of night and day may first suggest the +opposition of things seen and not seen. The world exists while the man +sleeps--exists independently of him. Sleep and its dreams are mysterious +to the waking man. His first theology is borrowed from this conjunction +of invisible might and irrational intellection. + +But Nature does not afford the church. Art does this, laboring long and +finishing never,--coming to a platform of rest, but coming at the same +time to a higher view, inciting to higher effort. Temple after temple is +raised. Juggernaut, Jove, Jesus! India does not get beyond Juggernaut. +Rome could not get beyond Jove. Christendom is far behind Jesus. In all +religions, Art founds on Nature, and aspires to super-nature. In all, +Art asserts the superiority of thought over unthought, of measure over +excess, of conscience over confidence. The latest evangel alone supplies +a method of popularizing thought, of beautifying measure, of harmonizing +conscience, and is, therefore, the religion that uses most largely from +the race, and returns most largely to it. + +Time permits me only a partial review of this great system of gifts and +deficiencies. The secret of progress seems an infinitesimal seed, +dropped in some bosoms to bear harvest for all. Seed and soil together +give the product which is called genius. But genius is only half of the +great man. No one works so hard as he does to obtain the result +corresponding to his natural dimensions and obligations. The gift and +the capacity to employ it are simply boons of Nature. The resolution to +do so, the patience and perseverance, the long tasks bravely undertaken +and painfully carried through--these come of the individual action of +the moral man, and constitute his moral life. The wonderfully clever +people we all know, who fill the society toy-shop with what is needed in +the society workshop, are people who have not consummated this +resolution, who have not had this bravery, this perseverance. Death does +not waste more of immature life than Indolence wastes of immature +genius. The law of labor in ethics and æsthetics corresponds to the +energetic necessities of hygiene, and is the most precious and +indispensable gift of one generation to its successors. + +In ethics, Nature supplies the first half, but Religion, or the law of +duty, supplies the other. Nature gives the enthusiasm of love, but not +the tender and persevering culture of friendship, which carries the +light of that tropical summer into the winter of age, the icy recesses +of death. + +Art has no need to intervene in order to bring together those whom +passion inspires, whom inclination couples. But in crude Nature, passion +itself remains selfish, brutal, and short-lived. + +The tender and grateful recollection of transient raptures, the culture +and growth of generous sympathies, resulting in noble co-operation--Art +brings these out of Nature by the second birth, of which Christ knew, +and at which Nicodemus marvelled. + +Nature gives the love of offspring. Human parents share the passionate +attachment of other animals for their young. With the regulation of +this attachment Art has much to do. You love the child when it delights +you by day; you must also love it when it torments you at night. This +latter love is not against Nature, but Conscience has to apply the whip +and spur a little, or the mother will take such amusement as the child +can afford, and depute to others the fatigues which are its price. + +A graver omission yet Nature makes. She does not teach children to +reverence and cherish their parents when the relation between them +reverses itself in the progress of time, and those who once had all to +give have all to ask. Moses was not obliged to say: "Parents, love your +children." But he was obliged to say: "Honor thy father and thy mother," +in all the thunder of the Decalogue. The gentler and finer spirits value +the old for their useful council and inestimable experience. + +You know to-day; but your father can show you yesterday, bright with +living traditions which history neglects and which posterity loses. We +do not profit as we might by this source of knowledge. Elders question +the young for their instruction. Young people, in turn, should question +elders on their own account, not allowing the personal values of +experience to go down to the grave unrealized. But Youth is cruel and +remorseless. The young, in their fulness of energy, in their desire for +scope and freedom, are often in unseemly haste to see the old depart. + +Here Religion comes in with strong hands to moderate the tyrannous +impulse, the controversy of the green with the ripe fruit. All religions +agree in this intervention. The worship of ancestors in the Confucian +ethics shows this consciousness and intention. The aristocratic +traditions of rank and race are an invention to the same end. Vanity, +too, will often lead a man to glorify himself in the past and future, as +well as in the present. + +Still, the instinct to get rid of elders is a feature in unreclaimed +nature. It shows the point at which the imperative suggestions of +personal feeling stop,--the spot where Nature leaves a desert in order +that Art may plant a garden. "Why don't you give me a carriage, now?" +said an elderly wife to an elderly husband. "When we married, you would +scarcely let me touch the ground with my feet. I need a conveyance now +far more than I did then." "That was the period of my young enthusiasm," +replied the husband. The statement is one of unusual candor, but the +fact is one of not unusual occurrence. + +I think that in the present study I have come upon the true and simple +sense of the parable of the talents. Of every human good, the initial +half is bestowed by Nature. But the value of this half is not realized +until Labor shall have acquired the other half. Talents are one thing: +the use of them is another. The first depend on natural conditions; the +second, on moral processes. The greatest native facilities are useless +to mankind without the discipline of Art. So in an undisciplined life, +the good that is born with a man dwindles and decays. The sketch of +childhood, never filled out, fades in the objectless vacancy of manhood; +and from the man is "taken away even that which he seemeth to have." Not +judicial vengeance this, but inevitable consequence. + +Education should clearly formulate this problem: Given half of a man or +woman, to make a whole one. This, I need not say, is to be done by +development, not by addition. Kant says that knowledge grows _per intus +susceptionem_, and not _per appositionem_. The knowledges that you +adjoin to memory do not fill out the man unless you reach, in his own +mind, the faculty that generates thought. A single reason perceived by +him either in numbers or in speech will outweigh in importance all the +rules which memory can be taught to supply. With little skill and much +perseverance, Education hammers upon the man until somewhere she strikes +a nerve, and the awakened interest leads him to think out something for +himself. Otherwise, she leaves the man a polite muddle, who makes his +best haste to forget facts in forms, and who cancels the enforced +production of his years of pedagogy by a lifelong non-production. + +What Nature is able to give, she does give with a wealth and persistence +almost pathetic. The good gifts afloat in the world which never take +form under the appropriate influence, the good material which does not +build itself into the structures of society,--you and I grieve over +these sometimes. And here I come upon a doctrine which Fourier, I think, +does not state correctly. He maintains that inclinations which appear +vicious and destructive in society as at present constituted would +become highly useful in his ideal society. I should prefer to state the +matter thus: The given talent, not receiving its appropriate education, +becomes a negative instead of a positive, an evil instead of a good. +Here we might paraphrase the Scripture saying, and affirm that the stone +which is not built into the corner becomes a stumbling-block for the +wayfarer to fall over. So great mischief lies in those uneducated, +unconsecrated talents! This cordial companion becomes a sot. This +could-be knight remains a prize-fighter. This incipient mathematician +does not get beyond cards or billiards. This clever mechanic picks locks +and robs a bank, instead of endowing one. + +Modern theories of education do certainly point toward the study, by the +party educating, of the party appointed to undergo education. But this +education of others is a very complex matter, not to be accomplished +unless the educator educates himself in the light afforded him by his +pupils. The boys or girls committed to you may study what you will: be +sure, first of all, that you study them to your best ability. Education +in this respect is forced to a continual rectification of her processes. +The greatest power and resource are needed to awaken and direct the +energies of the young. No speech in Congress is so important as are the +lessons in the primary school; no pulpit has so great a field of labor +as the Sunday school. The Turkish government showed a cruel wisdom of +instinct when it levied upon Greece the tribute of Christian children to +form its corps of Janissaries. It recognized alike the Greek superiority +of race, and the invaluable opportunity of training afforded by +childhood. + +The work, then, of education demands an investigation of the elements +which Nature has granted to the individual, with the view of matching +that in which he is wanting with that which he has. I have heard of +lovers who, in plighting their faith, broke a coin in halves, whose +matching could only take place with their meeting. In true education as +in the love, these halves should correspond. + +"What hast thou?" is, then, the first question of the educator. His +second is, "What hast thou not?" The third is, "How can I help thee to +this last?" + +To my view, the man remains incomplete his whole life long. Most +incomplete is he, however, in the isolations of selfishness and of +solitude. Study is not necessarily solitude, but ideal society in the +highest grade in which human beings can enjoy it. It is, nevertheless, +dangerous to suffer the ideal to distance the real too largely. +Desk-dreamers end by being mental cripples. Divorce of this sort is not +wholesome, nor holy. Life is a perpetual marriage of real and ideal, of +endeavor and result. The solitary departure of physical death is +hateful, as putting asunder what God has joined together. + +Must I go hence as lonely as I was born? My mother brought me into the +infinite society: I go into the absolute dissociation. I go many steps +further back than I came,--to the _ur_ mother, the common matrix which +bears plants, animals, and human creatures. Where, oh where, shall I +find that infinite companionship which my life should have earned for +me? My friendship has been hundred-handed. My love has consumed the +cities of the plain, and built the heavenly Jerusalem. And I go, without +lover or friend, in a box, into an earth vault, from which I cannot even +turn into violets and primroses in any recognizable and conscious way. + +The completeness of our severance or deficiency may be, after all, the +determining circumstance of our achievement. What I would have is cut so +clean off from what I have as to leave no sense of wholeness in my +continuing as I am. Something of mine is mislaid or lost. It is more +mine than anything that I have, but where to find it? Who has it? I +reach for it under this bundle and under that. After my life's trial, I +find that I have pursued, but not possessed it. What I have gained of it +in the pursuit, others must realize. I bequeath, and cannot take it with +me. Did Dante regard the parchments of his "Divina Commedia" with a +sigh, foreseeing the long future of commentators and booksellers, he +himself absolving them beforehand by the quitclaim of death? You and I +may also grieve to part from certain unsold volumes, from certain +manuscripts of doubtful fate and eventuality. Oh! out of this pang of +death has come the scheme and achievement of immortality. "_Non omnis +moriar_." "I am the resurrection and the life." "It is sown a natural +body; it is raised a spiritual body." + +This tremendous leap and feat of the human soul across the bridge of +dark negativity would never have been made without the sharp spur and +bitter pang of death. "My life food for worms? No; never. I will build +and bestow it in arts and charities, spin it in roads and replicate it +in systems; but to be lopped from the great body of humanity, and decay +like a black, amputated limb? My manhood refuses. The infinite hope +within me generates another life, realizable in every moment of my +natural existence, whose moments are not in time, whose perfect joys are +not measured by variable duration. Thus every day can be to me full of +immortality, and the matter of my corporeal decease full of +indifference, as sure to be unconscious." + +I think this attainment the first, fundamental to all the others. We +console the child with a simple word about heaven. He is satisfied, and +feels its truth. How to attain this deathlessness is the next problem +whose solution he will ask of us. We point him to the plane on which he +will roll; for our life is a series of revolutions,--no straight-forward +sledding, but an acceleration by ideal weight and propulsion, through +which our line becomes a circle, and our circle itself a living wheel of +action, creating out of its mobile necessity a past and a future. + +The halfness of the individual is literally shown in the division of +sex. The Platonic fancy runs into an anterior process, by which what was +originally one has been made two. We will say that the two halves were +never historically, though always ideally, one. Here Art comes to the +assistance of Nature. The mere contrast of sex does not lift society out +of what is animal and slavish. The integrity of sex relation is not to +be found in a succession or simultaneity of mates, easily taken and as +easily discarded. This great value of a perfected life is to be had only +through an abiding and complete investment,--the relations of sex +lifted up to the communion of the divine, unified by the good faith of a +lifetime, enriched by a true sharing of all experience. This august +partnership is Marriage, one of the most difficult and delicate +achievements of society. Too sadly does its mockery afflict us in these +and other days. Either party, striving to dwarf the other, dwarfs +itself. This mystic selfhood, inexpressible in literal phrases, is at +once the supreme of Nature and the sublime of institutions. The ideal +human being is man and woman united on the ideal plane. The church long +presented and represented this plane. The state is hereafter to second +and carry out its suggestions. The ideal assembly, which we figure by +the communion of the saints, is a coming together of men and women in +the highest aims and views to which Humanity can be a party. + +Passing from immediate to projected consciousness, I can imagine +expression itself to spring from want. The sense of the incompleteness +of life in itself and in each of its acts calls for this effort to show, +at least, what life should be,--to vindicate the shortcoming of action +out of the fulness of speech. This that eats and sleeps is so little of +the man! These processes are so little what he understands by life! +Listen; let him tell you what life means to him. + +And so sound is differentiated into speech, and hammered into grammar, +and built up into literature--all of whose creations are acoustic +palaces of imagination. For the eye in reading is only the secondary +sense: the written images the spoken word. + +How the rhythm of the blood comes to be embodied in verse is more +difficult to trace. But the justification of Poetry is obvious. When you +have told the thing in prose, you have made it false by making it +literal. Poesy lies a little to complete the truth which Honesty lacks +skill to embody. Her artifices are subtle and wonderful. You glance +sideways at the image, and you see it. You look it full in the face, and +it disappears. + +The plastic arts, too. This beautiful face commands me to paint from it +a picture twice as beautiful. Its charm of Nature I cannot attain. My +painting must not try for the edge of its flesh and blood forms, the +evanescence of its color, the light and shadow of its play of feature. +But something which the beautiful face could not know of itself the +artist knows of it. That deep interpretation of its ideal significance +marks the true master, who is never a Chinese copyist. Some of the +portraits that look down upon you from the walls of Rome and of Florence +calmly explain to you a whole eternity. Their eyes seem to have seized +it all, and to hold it beyond decay. This is what Art gives in the +picture,--not simply what appears and disappears, but that which, being +interpreted, abides with us. + +Who shall say by what responsive depths the heights of architecture +measure themselves? The uplifted arches mirror the introspective soul. +So profoundly did I think, and plot, and contrive! So loftily must my +stone climax balance my cogitations! To such an amount of prayer allow +so many aisles and altars. The pillars of cloisters image the +brotherhood who walked in the narrow passages; straight, slender, paired +in steadfastness and beauty, there they stand, fair records of amity. +Columns of retrospect, let us hope that the souls they image did not +look back with longing upon the scenes which they were called upon to +forsake. + +Critical belief asks roomy enclosures and windows unmasked by artificial +impediments. It comes also to desire limits within which the voice of +the speaker can reach all present. Men must look each other in the face, +and construct prayer or sermon with the human alphabet. We are glad to +see the noble structures of older times maintained and renewed; but we +regret to see them imitated in our later day. (St. Peter's is, in all +save dimension, a church of Protestant architecture--so is St. Paul's, +of London.) The present has its own trials and agonies, its martyrdoms +and deliverances. With it, the old litanies must sink to sleep; the more +Christian of to-day efface the most Christian of yesterday. The very +attitude of saintship is changed. The practical piety of our time looks +neither up nor down, but straight before it, at the men and women to be +relieved, at the work to be done. Religion to-day is not "height nor +depth nor any other creature," but God with us. + +There is a mystic birth and Providence in the succession of the Arts; +yet are they designed to dwell together, each needing the aid of all. +People often speak of sculpture as of an art purely and distinctively +Grecian. But the Greeks possessed all the Arts, and more, too,--the +substratum of democracy and the sublime of philosophy. No natural +jealousy prevails in this happy household. The Arts are not wives, of +whom one must die before another has proper place. They are sisters, +whose close communion heightens the charm of all by the excellence of +each. The Christian unanimity is as favorable to Art as to human +society. + +We may say that the Greeks attained a great perfection in sculpture, and +have continued in this art to offer the models of the world. + +When the great period of Italian art attained its full splendor, it +seemed as if the frozen crystals of Greek sculpture had melted before +the fire of Christian inspiration. But this transformation, like the +transfiguration of Hindoo deities, did not destroy the anterior in its +issue. + +The soul of sculpture ripened into painting, but Sculpture, the +beautiful mother, still lived and smiled upon her glowing daughter. See +Michael Angelo studying the torso! See the silent galleries of the +Vatican, where Form holds you in one room, Color presently detaining you +in another! And what are our Raphaels, Angelos, making to-day? Be sure +they are in the world, for the divine spirit of Art never leaves itself +without a witness. But what is their noble task? They are moulding +character, embodying the divine in human culture and in human +institutions. The Greek sculptures indicate and continue a fitting +reverence for the dignity and beauty of the human form; but the +reverence for the human soul which fills the world to-day is a holier +and happier basis of Art. From it must come records in comparison with +which obelisk and pyramid, triumphal arch and ghostly cathedral, shall +seem the toys and school appliances of the childhood of the race. + +To return to our original problem,--how shall we attain the proper human +stature, how add the wanting half to the half which is given? + +I answer: By labor and by faith, in which there is nothing accidental or +arbitrary. The very world in which we live is but a form, whose spirit, +breathing through Nature and Experience, slowly creates its own +interpretation, adding a new testament to an old testament, lifting the +veil between Truth and Mercy, clasping the mailed hand of Righteousness +in the velvet glove of Peace. + +The spirit of Religion is the immanence of the divine in the human, the +image of the eternal in the transitory, of things infinite in things +limited. I have heard endless discussions and vexed statements of how +the world came out of chaos. From the Mosaic version to the last +rationalistic theory, I have been willing to give ear to these. It is a +subject upon which human ingenuity may exercise itself in its allowable +leisure. One thing concerns all of us much more; _viz._, how to get +heaven out of earth, good out of evil, instruction out of opportunity. + +This is our true life work. When we have done all in this that life +allows us, we have not done more than half, the other half lying beyond +the pale struggle and the silent rest. Oh! when we shall reach that +bound, whatever may be wanting, let not courage and hope forsake us. + + + + +Dante and Beatrice + + +DANTE and Beatrice--names linked together by holy affection and high +art. Ary Scheffer has shown them to us as in a beatific vision,--the +stern spirit which did not fear to confront the horrors of Hell held in +a silken leash of meekness by the gracious one through whose +intervention he passed unscathed through fire and torment, bequeathing +to posterity a record unique in the annals alike of literature and of +humanity. + +My first studies of the great poet are in the time long past, antedating +even that middle term of life which was for him the starting-point of a +new inspiration. Yet it seems to me that no part of my life, since that +reading, has been without some echo of the "Divine Comedy" in my mind. +In the walk through Hell, I strangely believe. Its warnings still +admonish me. I see the boat of Charon, with its mournful freight. I pass +before the judgment seat of Midas. I see the souls tormented in hopeless +flame. I feel the weight of the leaden cloaks. I shrink from the jar of +the flying rocks, hurled as weapons. For me, dark Ugolino still feeds +upon his enemy. Francesca still mates with her sad lover. + +From this hopeless abyss, I emerge to the kindlier pain of Purgatory, +whose end is almost Heaven. And of that blessed realm, my soul still +holds remembrance--of its solemn joy, of its unfolding revelation. The +vision of that mighty cross in which all the stars of the highest heaven +range themselves is before me, on each fair cluster the word "Cristo" +outshining all besides. + +Among my dearest recollections is that of an Easter sermon devised by me +for an ignorant black congregation in a far-off West Indian isle, in +which I told of this vision of the cross, and tried to make it present +to them. But this grateful remembrance which I have carried through so +many years does not regard the poet alone. In the world's great goods, +as in its great evils, a woman has her part. And this poem, which has +been such a boon to humanity, has for its central inspiration the memory +of a woman. + +In the prologue, already we hear of her. It is she who sends her poet +his poet-guide. When he shrinks from the painful progress which lies +before him, and deems the companionship even of Virgil an insufficient +pledge of safety, the words of his lady, repeated to him by his guide, +restore his sinking courage, and give him strength for his immortal +journey. + +Here are those words of Beatrice, spoken to Virgil, and by him brought +to Dante:-- + + O courteous shade of Mantua! thou whose fame + Yet lives and shall live long as Nature lasts! + A friend, not of my fortune, but myself, + On the wide desert in his road has met + Hindrance so great that he through fear has turned. + Assist him: so to me will comfort spring. + I who now bid thee on this errand forth + Am Beatrice. + +Who and what was Beatrice, whose message gave Dante strength to explore +the fearful depths of evil and its punishment? This we may learn +elsewhere. + +Dante, passionate poet in his youth, has left to posterity a work unique +of its sort,--the romance of a childish love which grew with the growth +of the lover. In his adolescence, its intensity at times overpowers his +bodily senses. The years that built up his towering manhood built up +along with it this ideal womanhood, which, whether realized or +realizable, or neither, was the highest and holiest essence which his +imagination could infuse into a human form. The sweet shyness of that +first peep at the Beautiful, of that first thrill of the master chord of +being, is rendered immortal for us by the candor of this great master. +We can see the shamefaced boy, taken captive by the dazzling vision of +Beatrice, veiling the features of his unreasonable passion, and retiring +to his own closet, there to hide his joy at having found on earth a +thing so beautiful. + +Dante's love for Beatrice dates from the completion of his own ninth +year, and the beginning of hers. He first sees her at a May party, at +the house of her father, Folco Polinari. Her apparel, he says, "was of a +most noble tincture, a subdued and becoming crimson; and she wore a +girdle and ornaments becoming her childish years." At the sight of her, +his heart began to beat with painful violence. A master thought had +taken possession of him, and that master's name was well known to him, +as how should it not have been in that day when, if ever in this world, +Love was crowned lord of all? Urged by this tyrant, from time to time, +to go in search of Beatrice, he beheld in her, he says, a demeanor so +praiseworthy and so noble as to remind him of a line of Homer, regarding +Helen of Troy:-- + + "From heaven she had her birth, and not from mortal clay." + +These glimpses of her must have been transient ones, for the poet tells +us that his second meeting, face to face, with Beatrice occurred nine +years after their first encounter. Her childish charm had now ripened +into maidenly loveliness. He beholds her arrayed in purest white, +walking between two noble ladies older than herself. "As she passed +along the street, she turned her eyes toward the spot where I, thrilled +through and through with awe, was standing; and in her ineffable +courtesy, which now hath its guerdon in everlasting life, she saluted +me in such gracious wise that I seemed in that moment to behold the +utmost bounds of bliss." + +He now begins to dream of her in his sleeping moments, and to rhyme of +her in his waking hours. In his first vision, Love appears with Beatrice +in his arms. In one hand he holds Dante's flaming heart, upon which he +constrains her to feed; after which, weeping, he gathers up his fair +burthen and ascends with her to Heaven. This dream seemed to Dante fit +to be communicated to the many famous poets of the time. He embodies it +in a sonnet, which opens thus:-- + + To every captive soul and gentle heart + Into whose sight shall come this song of mine, + That they to me its matter may divine, + Be greeting in Love's name, our master's, sent. + +And now begins for him a season of love-lorn pining and heart-sickness. +The intensity of the attraction paralyzes in him the power of +approaching its object. His friends notice his altered looks, and ask +the cause of this great change in him. He confesses that it is the +master passion, but so misleads them as to the person beloved, as to +bring upon another a scandal by his feigning. For this he is punished by +the displeasure of Beatrice, who, passing him in the street, refuses him +that salutation the very hope of which, he says, kindled such a flame +of charity within him as to make him forget and forgive every offence +and injury. + +Love now visits him in his sleep, in the guise of a youth arrayed in +garments of exceeding whiteness, and desires him to indite certain words +in rhyme, which, though not openly addressed to Beatrice, shall yet +assure her of what she partly knows,--that the poet's heart has been +hers from boyhood. The ballad which he composes in obedience to his +love's command is not a very literal rendering of his story. + +He now begins to have many conflicting thoughts about Love, two of which +constitute a very respectable antinomy. One of these tells him that the +empire of Love is good, because it turns the inclinations of its vassal +from all that is base. The opposite thought is: "The empire of Love is +not good, since the more absolute the allegiance of his vassal, the more +severe and woful are the straits through which he must perforce pass." + +These conflicting thoughts sought expression in a sonnet, of which I +will quote a part:-- + + Of Love, Love only, speaks my every thought; + And all so various they be that one + Bids me bow down to his dominion, + Another counsels me his power is naught. + One, flushed with hopes, is all with sweetness fraught; + Another makes full oft my tears to run. + + * * * * * + + Where, then, to turn, what think, I cannot tell. + Fain would I speak, yet know not what to say. + +While these uncertainties still possess him, Dante is persuaded by a +friend to attend a bridal festivity, where it is hoped that the sight of +much beauty may give him great pleasure. + +"Why have you brought me among these ladies?" he asks. "In order that +they may be properly attended," is the answer. + +Small attendance can Dante give upon these noble beauties. A fatal +tremor seizes him; he looks up and, beholding Beatrice, can see nothing +else. Nay, even of her his vision is marred by the intensity of his +feeling. The ladies first wonder at his agitation, and then make merry +over it, Beatrice apparently joining in their merriment. His friend, +chagrined at his embarrassment, now asks the cause of it; to which +question Dante replies: "I have set my foot in that part of life to pass +beyond which, with purpose to return, is impossible." + +With these words the poet departs, and in his chamber of tears persuades +himself that Beatrice would not have joined in the laughter of her +friends if she had really known his state of mind. Then follows, +naturally, a sonnet:-- + + With other ladies thou dost flaunt at me, + Nor thinkest, lady, whence doth come the change, + What fills mine aspect with a trouble strange + When I the wonder of thy beauty see. + If thou didst know, thou must, for charity, + Forswear the wonted rigor of thine eye. + +With this poetic utterance comes the plain prose question: "Seeing thou +dost present an aspect so ridiculous whenever thou art near this lady, +wherefore dost thou seek to come into her presence?" + +It takes two sonnets to answer this question. He is not the only person +who asks it. Meeting with some merry dames, he is thus questioned by her +of them who seems "most gay and pleasant of discourse:" "Unto what end +lovest thou this lady, seeing that her near presence overwhelms thee?" +In reply, he professes himself happy in having words wherewith to speak +the praises of his lady, and going thence, determines in his heart to +devote his powers of expression to that high theme. He leaves the +cramping sonnet now, and expands his thought in the _canzone_, of which +I need only repeat the first line:-- + + Ladies who have the intellect of Love. + +Why the course of this true love never did run smooth, we know not. +Beatrice, at the proper age, was given in marriage to Messer Simone dei +Bardi. It is thought that she was wedded to him before the occasion on +which Dante's love-lorn appearance moved her to a mirth which may have +been feigned. Still, the thought of her continues to be his greatest +possession, and he and his master, Love, hold many arguments together +concerning the bliss and bane of this high fancy. He has great comfort +in the general esteem in which his lady is held, and is proud and glad +when those who see her passing in the street hasten to get a better view +of her. He sees the controlling power of her loveliness in its influence +on those around her, who are not thrown into the shade, but brightened, +by her radiance. + + Such virtue rare her beauty hath, in sooth + No envy stirs in other ladies' breast; + But in its light they walk beside her, dressed + In gentleness, and love, and noble truth. + Her looks whate'er they light on seem to bless; + Nor her alone make lovely to the view, + But all her peers through her have honor, too. + +Dante was still engaged in interpreting the merits of Beatrice to the +world when that most gentle being met the final conflict, and received +the crown of immortality. His first feeling is that Florence is made +desolate by her loss. He can think of no words but those with which the +prophet Jeremiah bewailed the spoiling of Jerusalem: "How doth the city +sit desolate!" The princes of the earth, he thinks, should learn the +loss of this more than princess. He speaks of her in sonnet and +_canzone_. + +The passing of a band of pilgrims in the street suggests to him the +thought that they do not know of his sweet saint, nor of her death, and +that if they did, they would perforce stop to weep with him:-- + + Tell me, ye pilgrims, who so thoughtful go, + Musing, mayhap, on what is far away, + Come ye from climes so far, as your array + And look of foreign nurture seem to shew, + That from your eyes no tears of pity flow, + As ye along our mourning city stray, + Serene of countenance and free, as they + Who of her deep disaster nothing know? + Oh! she hath lost her Beatrice, her saint, + And what of her her co-mates can reveal + Must drown with tears even strangers' hearts, perforce. + +On the first anniversary of his lady's death, as he sits absorbed in +thoughts of her, he sketches the figure of an angel upon his tablets. +Turning presently from his work, he sees near him some gentlemen of his +acquaintance, who are watching the movements of his pencil. He answers +the interruption thus: + + Into my lonely thoughts that noble dame + Whom Love bewails, had entered in the hour + When you, my friends, attracted by his power, + To see the task that did employ me came. + +Many a sigh of dole escapes his heart, he says, + + But they which came with sharpest pang were those + Which said: "O intellect of noble mould, + A year to-day it is since thou didst seek the skies." + +We may find, perhaps, a more wonderful proof of his constancy in his +stout-hearted resistance to the charms of a beautiful lady who regards +him with that intense pity which is akin to love. To her he says: + + Never was Pity's semblance, or Love's hue + So wondrously in face of lady shown, + That tenderly gave ear to Sorrow's moan + Or looked on woful eyes, as shows in you. + +To this new attraction he is on the point of surrendering, when the +vision of Beatrice rises before him, as he first saw her,--robed in +crimson, and bright with the angelic beauty of childhood. All other +thoughts are put to flight by this, and with renewed faith he devotes +himself to the memory of Beatrice, hoping to say of her some day "that +which hath never yet been said of any lady." + +All who have been lovers--and who has not?--must feel, I think, that the +"Vita Nuova" is the romance of a true love. The Beatrice of the "Divina +Commedia" is this love, and much more. Dante has had a deep and availing +experience of life. Statesman and scholar, he has laid his fiery soul +upon the world's great anvil, where Fate, with heavy hammering and fiery +blowing, has wrought out of him a stern, sad man, so hunted and exiled +that the ways of Imagination alone are open to him. In its domain, he +calls around him the majestic shadows of those with whom his life has +made him familiar. For him, the way to Heaven lies through Hell and +Purgatory. Into these regions, the blessed Beatrice cannot come. She +sends, however, the poet shade, who seems to her most fit to be his +guide. The classic refinement makes evident to him the vulgarity of sin +and the logic of its consequences. He surveys the eternal, hopeless +punishment, and passes through the cleansing fires of Purgatory, at +whose outer verge, a fair vision comes to bless him. Beatrice, in a +mystical car, her beauty at first concealed by a veil of flowers which +drop from the hands of attendant angels, speaks to him in tones which +move his penitential grief. + +The high love of his youth thus appears to him as accusing Conscience, +which stands to question him with the offended majesty of a loving +mother. Through her rebukes, precious in their bitterness, he attains to +that view of his own errors without which it would have been impossible +for him to forsake them. It is a real orthodox "repentance and +conviction of sin" with which the religious renewal of his life begins. +Tormented by this cruel retrospect, the poet is mercifully bathed in the +waters of forgetfulness, and then, being made a new creature, regains +the society of Beatrice. + +Seated at the root of the great Tree of Humanity, she bids him take note +of the prophetic vision which symbolizes the history of the church. Of +the sanctity of the tree, she thus admonishes him: + + This whoso robs, + This whoso plucks, with blasphemy of deed + Sins against God, who for His use alone + Creating, hallowed it. + +Dante drinks now of a stream whose sweetness can never satiate, and from +that holy wave returns, + + Regenerate, + Pure, and made apt for mounting to the stars. + +It appears to me quite simple and natural that the image of the poet's +earthly love, long lost from physical sense, should prompt the awakening +of his higher nature, which, obscured, as he confesses, by the disorders +of his mortal life, asserts itself with availing authority when +Beatrice, the beloved, becomes present to his mind. All progress, all +heavenly learning, is thenceforth associated with her. High as he may +climb, she always leads him. Where he passes as a stranger, she is at +home. Where he poorly guesses, she wholly knows. Nor does he part from +her until he has attained the highest point of spiritual vision, where +he sees her throned and crowned in immortal glory, and above her, the +lovely one of Heaven,--the Virgin Mother of Christ. What he sees after +this, he says, cannot be told with mortal tongue. + + Here vigor failed the towering fantasy, + But yet the will rolled onward, like a wheel, + In even motion, by the love impelled + That moves the sun in heaven and all the stars. + +Two opposite points in great authors give us pleasure; _viz._, the +originality of their talent or genius, and the catholicity of their +sentiments and interest,--in other words, their likeness and their +unlikeness to the average of humanity. We are delighted to find Plato at +once so modern and so ancient, his prevision and prophecy needing so +little adaptation to make them germane to the wants of our own or of any +other time, his grasp of apprehension and comparison so peculiar to +himself, so unrivalled by any thinker of any time. In like manner, the +mediæval pictures drawn by Dante delight us, and the bold daring of his +imagination. At the same time, the perfectly sound and rational common +sense of many of his utterances seems familiar from its accordance with +the soundest criticism of our own time:-- + + Florence within her ancient circle set, + Remained in sober, modest quietness. + Nor chains had she, nor crowns, nor women decked + In gay attire, with splendid cincture bound, + More to be gazed at than the form itself. + Not yet the daughter to the father brought + Fear from her birth, the marriage time and dower + Not yet departing from their fitting measure. + Nor houses had she, void of household life. + Sardanapalus had not haply shown + The deeds which may be hid by chamber walls. + I saw Bellincion Berti go his way + With bone and leather belted. From the glass + His lady moved, no paint upon her face. + I saw the Lords of Norti and del Vecchio content, + Their household dames engaged with spool and spindle. + +The theory of the good old time, we see, is not a modern invention. + +Dante inherits the great heart of chivalry, wise before its time in the +uplifting of Woman. The wonderful worship of the Virgin Mother, in which +are united the two poles of womanhood, completed the ideal of the Divine +Human, and cast a new glory upon the sex. Can we doubt that knight and +minstrel found a true inspiration in the lady of their heart? A mere +pretence or affection is a poor thing to fight for or to sing for. Men +will not imperil their lives for what they know to be a lie. + +This newly awakened reverence for woman--shall we call it a race +characteristic? It was a golden gift to any race. Plato's deep doctrine +that all learning is a reminiscence may avail us in questioning this. +The human race does not carry the bulk of its knowledge in its hand. +Busy with its tools and toys, it forgets its ancestral heirlooms, and +leaves unexplored the legacy of the past. But in some mystical way, the +treasures lost from remembrance turn up and come to sight again. In the +far Caucasus, from which we came, there were glimpses of this ideal wife +and mother. + +This history, whether real or imaginary, or both, suggests to me the +question whether the love which brings together and binds together men +and women can in any way typify the supreme affections of the soul? That +it was supposed to do so in mediæval times is certain. The sentimental +agonies of troubadours and minstrels make it evident. Even the latest +seedy sprout of chivalry, Don Quixote, shows us this. Wishing to start +upon a noble errand, the succor of oppressed humanity, his almost first +requisite is a "lady of his heart," who, in his case, is a mere lay +figure upon which he drapes the fantastic weaving of his imagination. + +Another question, like unto the first, is this,--whether the heroic mode +of loving is or is not a lost art in our days. + +That Plato and Socrates should busy themselves with it, that mystics and +philosophers should find such a depth of interest in the attraction +which one nature exerts upon another, and that, _per contra_, in our +time, this mystical attraction should flatten, or, as singers say, flat +out into a decorous observance of rules, assisting a mutual +endurance--what does it mean? Is Pan dead, and are the other gods dead +with him? + +In an age widely, if not deeply, critical, we lose sight of the +primitive affections and temperament of our race. Affection's self +becomes merged in opinion. We contemplate, we compare, we are not able +to covet any but surface distinctions, surface attractions. Even the +poets who give us the expression of a lively participation in human +instincts are disowned by us. Wordsworth is chosen, and Byron is +discarded. We are not too rich with both of them. Inspired Browning--for +the man who wrote "Pippa" and "Saul" was inspired--loses himself and his +music in the dismal swamp of metaphysical speculation. Just at present, +it seems to me that the world has lost one of its noblest leadings; +_viz._, the desire for true companionship. Arid love of pleasure, more +arid worship of wealth, paralyze those higher powers of the soul which +take hold on friendship and on love. To know those only who can advance +your personal objects, be these amusement or ambition; to marry at +auction, going, going, for so much,--how can we who have but one human +life to live so cheat ourselves out of its real rights and privileges? + +Is this a pathological symptom in the body social, produced by a surfeit +in the direction of inclination? One might think so, since asceticism +has no joylessness comparable to that of the blasted _roué_ or utter +worldling. In France, where the bent of romantic literature has been the +following of inclination,--from George Sand, who consecrates it, down to +the latest scrofulous scribbler, who outrages it,--on the banks of this +turbid stream of literature, one constantly meets with the apples of +Sodom. "There is no other fruit," say the venders. "You cultivate none +other," is the fitting reply. + +The world of thought is ever full of problems as contradictory of each +other as the antinomies of which I just now made a passing mention. The +right interpretation of these riddles is of great moment in our +spiritual and intellectual life. The ages and æons of human experience +tend, on the whole, to a gradual unification of persuasion and +conviction on the part of thinking beings, and much that a prophet +breathes into a hopeless blank acquires meaning in the light of +succeeding centuries. + +This great problem of love continues to be full of contradictory aspects +to those who would explore it. We distinguish between divine love and +human love, but have yet to decide whether Love absolute is divine or +human; for this deity is known to us from all time in two opposite +shapes,--as a destructive and as a constructive god. He unmakes the man, +he unmakes the woman, sucks up precious years of human life like a +sponge, sets Troy ablaze, maddens harmless Io with a stinging gad-fly. + +On the other hand, where Love is not, nothing is. Luxurious Solomon +praises a dinner of herbs enriched by his presence. All poetry, all +doctrine, is founded upon human affection assumed as essential to life, +nay, as life itself; for when love of life and its objects exists not, +the vital flame flickers feebly, and expires early. In ethics, social +and religious, what contradictions do we encounter under this head! From +all inordinate and sinful affections, good Lord, deliver us! is a good +prayer. But how shall we treat the case when there are no affections at +all? We might add a clause to our litany,--From lovelessness and all +manner of indifference, good Lord, deliver us! What more direful +sentence than to say that a person has no heart? What sin more severely +punished than any extravagant action of this same heart? + +These wonders of lofty sentiment and high imagination are precious +subjects of study. The construction of a great poem, of which the +interest is at once intense, various, and sustained, seems to us a work +more appropriate to other days than to our own. I remember in my youth a +fluent critic who was fond of saying that if Milton had lived in this +day of the world, he would not have thought of writing an epic poem. To +which another of the same stripe would reply: "If he did write such a +poem in these days, nobody would read it." I wonder how long the frisky +impatience of our youth will think it worth while to follow even Homer +in his long narratives. + +More than this sustained power of the imagination, does the heroic in +sentiment seem to decrease and to be wanting among us. Those lofty views +of human affection and relation which we find in the great poets seem +almost foreign to the civilization of to-day. I find in modern +scepticism this same impatience of weighty thoughts. He who believes +only in the phenomenal universe does not follow a conviction. A fatal +indolence of mind prevents him from following any lead which threatens +fatigue and difficult labor. Instead of a temple for the Divine, our man +of to-day builds a commodious house for himself,--at best, a club-house +for his set or circle. And the worst of it is, that he teaches his son +to do the same thing. + +The social change which I notice to-day as a decline in attachments +simply personal is partly the result of a political change which I, for +one, cannot deplore. The idea of the state and of society as bodies in +which each individual has a direct interest gives to men and women of +to-day an enlarged sphere of action and of instruction. The absolutely +universal coincidence of the real advantage of the individual with that +of the community, always true in itself, and neither now nor at any time +fully comprehended, gives the fundamental tone to thought and education +to-day. The result is a tendency to generality, to publicity, and a +neglect of those relations into which external power and influence do +not enter. The action of mind upon mind, of character upon character, +outside of public life, is intense, intimate, insensible. Temperament is +most valued nowadays for its effect upon multitudes. We wish to be +recognized as moving in a wide and exalted sphere. The belle in the +ball-room is glad to have it reported that the Prince of Wales admires +her. The lady who should grace a lady's sphere pines for the stage and +the footlights. Actions and appearances are calculated to be seen of +men. + +I say no harm of this tendency, which has enfranchised me and many +others from the cruel fetters of a narrow and personal judgment. It is +safe and happy to have the public for a final court of appeal, and to be +able, when an issue is misjudged or distorted, to call upon its great +heart to say where the right is, and where the wrong. But let us, in our +panorama of wide activities, keep with all the more care these pictures +of spirits that have been so finely touched within the limits of +Nature's deepest reserve and modesty. This mediæval did not go to +dancing-school nor to Harvard College. He could not talk of the fellows +and the girls. But from his early childhood, he holds fast the tender +remembrance of a beautiful and gracious face. The thought of it, and of +the high type of woman which it images, is to him more fruitful of joy +and satisfaction than the amusements of youth or the gaieties of the +great world. Death removes this beloved object from his sight, but not +from his thoughts. Years pass. His genius reaches its sublime maturity. +He becomes acquainted with camps and courts, with the learning and the +world of his day. But when, with all his powers, he would build a +perfect monument to Truth, he takes her perfect measure from the hand of +his child-love. The world keeps that work, and will keep it while +literature shall last. It has many a subtle passage, many a wonderful +picture, but at its height, crowned with all names divine, he has +written, as worthy to be remembered with these, the name of Beatrice. + +PRINTED AT THE EVERETT PRESS BOSTON MASS. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Is Polite Society Polite?, by Julia Ward Howe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IS POLITE SOCIETY POLITE? *** + +***** This file should be named 34271-0.txt or 34271-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/7/34271/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 + + +Title: Is Polite Society Polite? + and Other Essays + +Author: Julia Ward Howe + +Release Date: November 10, 2010 [EBook #34271] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IS POLITE SOCIETY POLITE? *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Photo of Julia Ward Howe + +Signed, + +Yours very cordially, + +Julia Ward Howe.] + + + + +Is Polite Society Polite? + +And Other Essays + +BY + +[Illustration: colophon] + +MRS. JULIA WARD HOWE + +BOSTON & NEW YORK + +Lamson, Wolffe, & Company + +1895 + +Copyright, 1895, By Lamson, Wolffe, & Co. + +All rights reserved + + + + +Preface + + +I REMEMBER that, quite late in the fifties, I mentioned to Theodore +Parker the desire which I began to feel to give living expression to my +thoughts, and to lend to my written words the interpretation of my +voice. + +Parker, who had taken a friendly interest in the publication of my first +volumes, "Passion Flowers" and "Words for the Hour," gave his approval +also to this new project of mine. "The great desire of the age," he +said, "is for vocal expression. People are scarcely satisfied with the +printed page alone: they crave for their instruction the living voice +and the living presence." + +At the time of which I write, no names of women were found in the lists +of lecture courses. Lucy Stone had graduated from Oberlin, and was +beginning to be known as an advocate of temperance, and as an +antislavery speaker. Lucretia Mott had carried her eloquent pleading +outside the limits of her Quaker belonging. Antoinette Brown Blackwell +occupied the pulpit of a Congregational church, while Abby Kelly Foster +and the Grimke Sisters stood forth as strenuous pleaders for the +abolition of slavery. Of these ladies I knew little at the time of which +I speak, and my studies and endeavors occupied a field remote from that +in which they fought the good fight of faith. My thoughts ran upon the +importance of a helpful philosophy of life, and my heart's desire was to +assist the efforts of those who sought for this philosophy. + +Gradually these wishes took shape in some essays, which I read to +companies of invited friends. Somewhat later, I entered the lecture +field, and journeyed hither and yon, as I was invited. + +The papers collected in the present volume have been heard in many parts +of our vast country. As is evident, they have been written for popular +audiences, with a sense of the limitations which such audiences +necessarily impose. With the burthen of increasing years, the freedom of +locomotion naturally tends to diminish, and I must be thankful to be +read where I have in other days been heard. I shall be glad indeed if it +may be granted to these pages to carry the message which I myself have +been glad to bear,--the message of the good hope of humanity, despite +the faults and limitations of individuals. + +That hope casts its light over the efforts of years that are past, and +gilds for me, with ineffaceable glow, the future of our race. + +The lecture, "Is Polite Society Polite?" was written for a course of +lectures given some years ago by the New England Women's Club of Boston. +"Greece Revisited" was first read before the Town and Country Club of +Newport, R.I. "Aristophanes" and "Dante and Beatrice" were written for +the Summer School of Philosophy at Concord, Mass. "The Halfness of +Nature" was first read before the Boston Radical Club. "The Salon in +America" was written for the Contemporary Club in Philadelphia. + + + + +Contents + + +Preface + +Is Polite Society Polite Page 3 + +Paris 37 + +Greece Revisited 77 + +The Salon in America 113 + +Aristophanes 133 + +The Halfness of Nature 161 + +Dante and Beatrice 181 + + + + +Is Polite Society Polite? + + +WHY do we ask this question? For reasons which I shall endeavor to make +evident. + +The life in great cities awakens a multitude of ambitions. Some people +are very unscrupulous in following these ambitions, attaining their +object either by open force and pushing, or by artful and cunning +manoeuvres. And so it will happen that in the society which considers +itself entitled to rank above all other circles one may meet with people +whose behavior is guided by no sincere and sufficient rule of conduct. +Observing their shortcomings, we may stand still and ask, Are these +people what they should be? Is polite society polite? + +For this society, which is supposed to be nothing if not polite, does +assume, in every place, to set up the standard of taste and to regulate +the tone of manners. It aims to be what Hamlet once was in Ophelia's +eyes--"the glass of fashion and the mould of form." Its forms and +fashions change, of course, from age to age, and yet it is a steadfast +institution in the development of human civilization. + +I should be sorry to overstate its shortcomings, but I wish I might help +it to feel its obligations and to fulfil them. + +What shall we accept in the ordinary sense of men as politeness? Shall +we consider it a mere surface polish--an attitude expressive of +deference--corresponding to no inward grace of good feeling? Will you +like to live with the person who, in the great world, can put on fine +manners, but who, in the retirement of home, manifests the vulgarity of +a selfish heart and an undisciplined temper? + +No, you will say; give me for my daily companions those who always wear +the best manners they have. For manners are not like clothes: you can +mend them best when you have them on. + +We may say at the outset that sincerity is the best foundation upon +which to build the structure of a polite life. The affectation of +deference does not impose upon people of mature experience. It carries +its own contradiction with it. When I hear the soft voice, a little too +soft, I look into the face to see whether the two agree. But I need +scarcely do that. The voice itself tells the story, is sincere or +insincere. Flattery is, in itself, an offence against politeness. It is +oftenest administered to people who are already suffering the +intoxication of vanity. When I see this, I wish that I could enforce a +prohibitory ordinance against it, and prosecute those who use it mostly +to serve their own selfish purposes. But people can be trained never to +offer nor to receive this dangerous drug of flattery, and I think that, +in all society which can be called good, it becomes less and less the +mode to flavor one's dishes with it. + +Having spoken of flattery, I am naturally led to say a word about its +opposite, detraction. + +The French have a witty proverb which says that "the absent are always +in the wrong," and which means that the blame for what is amiss is +usually thrown upon those who are not present to defend themselves. It +seems to me that the rules of politeness are to be as carefully observed +toward the absent as toward those in whose company we find ourselves. +The fact that they cannot speak in their own defence is one which should +appeal to our nicest sense of honor. Good breeding, or its reverse, is +as much to be recognized in the way in which people speak of others as +in the way in which they speak to them. + +Have we not all felt the tone of society to be lowered by a low view of +the conduct and motives of those who are made the subjects of +discussion? + +Those unfortunate men and women who delight in talk of this sort always +appear to me degraded by it. No matter how clever they may be, I avoid +their society, which has in it a moral malaria most unwholesome in +character. + +I am glad to say that, although frivolous society constantly shows its +low estimate of human nature, I yet think that the gay immolation of +character which was once considered a legitimate source of amusement +has gone somewhat out of fashion. Sheridan's "School for Scandal" gives +us some notion of what this may once have been. I do think that the +world has grown more merciful in later years, and that even people who +meet only for their own amusement are learning to seek it without +murdering the reputation of their absent friends. + +There is a mean impulse in human nature which leads some people to toss +down the reputation of their fellows just as the Wall Street bear tosses +down the value of the investments whose purchase he wishes to command at +his own price. But in opposition to this, God has set within us a power +which reacts against such base estimates of mankind. The utterance of +this false tone often calls out the better music, and makes us admire +the way in which good springs up in the very footsteps of evil and +effaces them as things of nought. + +Does intercourse with great society make us more or less polite? +Elizabeth Browning says:-- + + First time he kissed me he but only kissed + The fingers of this hand wherewith I write, + Which ever thence did grow more clean and white, + Slow to world greetings, quick with its "Oh, list," + When the angels speak. + +This clearly expresses the sanctification of a new and noble interest. +How is it with those on whom the great world has set its seal of +superior position, which is derived from a variety of sources, among +which wealth, recognized talent, and high descent are the most +important? + +I must say in answer that this social recognition does not affect all +people in the same manner. One passes the ordeal unscathed, is as fresh +in affection, as genuine in relation and intercourse, as faithful to +every fine and true personal obligation in the fiery furnace of wealth +and fashion and personal distinction as he or she was in the simple +village or domestic life, in which there was no question of greatness or +smallness, all being of nearly the same dimensions. + +The great world may boast of its jewels which no furnace blast can melt +or dim, but they are rare. Madame de Stal and Madame Rcamier seem to +have been among these undimmed gems; so, also, was Madame de Svign, +with a heart warm with love for her children and her friends in all the +dazzle of a brilliant court. So I have seen a vessel of the finest +glass, thin as paper, which a chemist left over his spirit-lamp, full of +boiling liquid, and, returning the next day, found uninjured, so perfect +was the temper of the glass. But for one such unspoiled world-favorite, +I can show you twenty men and women who, at the first lift of fortune, +forsake their old friends, neglect their near relations, and utterly +ignore their poor ones. + +Romance is full of such shameful action; and let me say here, in +passing, that in my opinion Romance often wears off our horror of what +is wicked and heartless by showing it as a permanent and recognized +element of society. This is the reverse of what it should do. But in +these days it so exceeds its office in the hunt after the exhausted +susceptibilities of a novel-reading public that it really thumps upon +our aversion to vice until it wears it out. + +De Balzac's novel called "Father Goriot" tells the story of a man of +humble origin who grows rich by trade, educates his daughters for +fashionable life, marries them to men of condition, portions them +abundantly, and is in return kept carefully out of what the world knows +of their lives. They seek him only when they want money, which they +always do, in spite of the rich dowry settled on them at their marriage. +_Father Goriot_ sells his last piece of silver to help them, and dies in +a low boarding-house, tended by the charity of strangers, tormented to +the last by the bickering of his children, but not cheered for one +moment by their affection. + +I have heard on good authority that people of wealth and position in our +large cities sometimes deposit their aged and helpless parents in +asylums where they may have all that money can buy for them, but nothing +of what gratitude and affection should give them. How detestable such a +course is I need not say; my present business is to say that it is far +from polite. + +Apropos of this suggestion, I remember that I was once invited to read +this essay to a village audience in one of the New England States. My +theme was probably one quite remote from the general thought of my +hearers. As I went on, their indifference began to affect me, and my +thought was that I might as well have appealed to a set of wooden +tenpins as to those who were present on that occasion. + +In this, I afterwards learned that I was mistaken. After the conclusion +of the evening's exercise, a young man, well known in the community, was +heard to inquire urgently where he could find the lecturer. Friends +asked, what did he want of her? He replied: "Well, I did put my brother +in the poorhouse, and now that I have heard Mrs. Howe, I suppose that I +must take him out." + +Need I say that I felt myself amply repaid for the trouble I had taken? +On the other hand, this same theme was once selected from my list by a +lecture association in a small town buried in the forests of the far +West. As I surveyed my somewhat home-spun audience, I feared that a +discussion of the faults of polite society would interest my hearers +very little. I was surprised after my reading to hear, from more than +one of those present, that this lecture appeared to them the very thing +that was most needed in that place. + +There is to my mind something hideous in the concealment and disregard +of real connections which involve real obligations. + +If you are rich, take up your poor relations. Assist them at least to +find the way of earning a competence. Use the power you have to bring +them within the sphere of all that is refining. You can embellish the +world to them and them to the world. Do so, and you will be respected by +those whose respect is valuable. On the contrary, repudiate those who +really belong to you and the mean world itself will laugh at you and +despise you. It is clever and cunning enough to find out your secret, +and when it has done so, it will expose you pitilessly. + +I have known men and women whose endeavors and successes have all been +modelled upon the plane of social ambition. Starting with a good +common-school education, which is a very good thing to start with, they +have improved opportunities of culture and of desirable association +until they stand conspicuous, far away from the sphere of their village +or homemates, having money to spend, able to boast of wealthy +acquaintances, familiar guests at fashionable entertainments. + +Now sometimes these individuals wander so far away from their original +belongings that these latter are easily lost sight of. And I assure you +that they are left in the dark, in so far as concerns the actions of +the friends we are now considering. Many a painstaking mother at a +distance, many a plain but honest old father, many a sister working in a +factory to help a brother at college, is never spoken of by such +persons, and is even thought of with a blush of shame and annoyance. + +Oh! shame upon the man or woman of us who is guilty of such behavior as +this! These relatives are people to be proud of, as we should know if we +had the heart to know what is true, good, and loyal. Even were it not +so, were your relative a criminal, never deny the bond of nature. Stand +beside him in the dock or at the gallows. You have illustrious precedent +for such association in one whom men worship, but forget to imitate. + +Let me here relate a little story of my early years. I had a nursery +governess when I was a small child. She came from some country town, and +probably regarded her position in my father's family as a promotion. One +evening, while we little folks gathered about her in our nursery, she +wept bitterly. "What is the matter?" we asked; and she took me up in her +lap, and said: "My poor old father came here to see me to-day, and I +would not see him. I bade them tell him that he had mistaken the house, +and he went away, and as he went I saw him looking up at the windows so +wistfully!" Poor woman! We wept with her, feeling that this was indeed +a tragical event, and not knowing what she could do to make it better. + +But could I see that woman now, I would say to her: "If you were serving +the king at his table, and held his wine-cup in your hand, and your +father stood without, asking for you, you should set down the cup, and +go out from the royal presence to honor your father, so much the more if +he is poor, so much the more if he is old." And all that is really +polite in polite society would say so too. + +Now this action which I report of my governess corresponds to something +in human nature, and to something which polite society fosters. + +For polite society bases itself upon exclusions. In this it partly +appeals to that antagonism of our nature through which the desire to +possess something is greatly exaggerated by the difficulty of becoming +possessed of it. If every one can come to your house, no one, you think, +will consider it a great object of desire to go there. Theories of +supply and demand come in here. People would gladly destroy things that +give pleasure, in order to enhance their value in the hands of the few. + +I once heard a lady, herself quite new in society, say of a Parisian +dame who had shown her some attention: "Ah! the trouble with Madame---- +is that she is too good-natured. She entertains everybody." "Indeed," +thought I, "if she had been less good-natured, is it certain that she +would have entertained you?" + +But of course the justifiable side of exclusion is choice, selection of +one's associates. No society can confer the absolute right or power to +make this selection. Tiresome and unacceptable people are everywhere +entangled in relations with wise and agreeable ones. There is no bore +nor torment who has not the right to incommode some fireside or assembly +with his or her presence. You cannot keep wicked, foolish, tiresome, +ugly people out of society, however you and your set may delight in good +conduct, grace, and beauty. You cannot keep poor people out of the +society of the rich. Those whom you consider your inferiors feed your +cherished stomach, and drape your sacred person, and stand behind your +chair at your feasts, judging your manners and conversation. + +Let us remember Mr. Dickens's story of "Little Dorrit," in which _Mr. +Murdle_, a new-rich man, sitting with guests at his own sumptuous table, +is described as dreading the disapprobation of his butler. This he might +well do, as the butler was an expert, well aware of the difference +between a gentleman of breeding and education and a worldling, lifted by +the possession of wealth alone. + +Very genial in contrast with this picture appears the response of +Abraham Lincoln, who, on being asked by the head waiter at his first +state dinner whether he would take white wine or red, replied: "I don't +know; which would you?" + +Well, what can society do, then? It can decree that those who come of a +certain set of families, that those who have a certain education, and +above all, a certain income, shall associate together on terms of +equality. And with this decree there comes to foolish human nature a +certain irrational desire to penetrate the charmed circle so formed. + +The attempt to do this encounters resistance; there is pushing in and +shoving out,--coaxing and wheedling on the one hand, and cold denial or +reluctant assent on the other. So a fight is perpetually going on in the +realm of fashion. Those not yet recognized are always crowding in. Those +first in occupation are endeavoring to crowd these out. In the end, +perseverance usually conquers. + +But neither of these processes is polite--neither the crowding in nor +the crowding out--and this last especially, as many of those who are in +were once out, and are trying to keep other people from doing what they +themselves have been very glad to do. In Mr. Thackeray's great romance, +"The Newcomes," young _Ethel Newcome_ asks her grandmother, _Lady Kew_, +"Well then, grandmother, who is of a good family?" And the old lady +replies: "Well, my dear, mostly no one." But I would reply: Mostly +every one, if people are disposed to make their family good. + +There is an obvious advantage in society's possession of a recognized +standard of propriety in general deportment; but the law of good +breeding should nowhere be merely formal, nor should its application be +petty and captious. The externals of respectability are most easily aped +when they are of the permanent and stereotyped kind, and may be used to +conceal gross depravity; while the constant, fresh, gracious inspiration +of a pure, good heart is unmistakable, and cannot be successfully +counterfeited. + +On the other hand, young persons should be desirous to learn the opinion +of older ones as to what should and should not be done on the ground of +general decorum and good taste. Youth is in such hot haste to obtain +what it desires that it often will not wait to analyze the spirit of an +occasion, but classes opposition to its inclinations as prejudice and +antiquated superstition. But the very individual who in youth thus +scoffs at restraint often pays homage to it in later days, having +meanwhile ascertained the weighty reasons which underlie the whole law +of reserve upon which the traditions of good society are based. + +How much trouble, then, might it save if the young people, as a rule, +were to come to the elders and ask at least why this thing or that is +regarded as unbecoming or of doubtful propriety. And how much would it +assist this good understanding if the elders, to the last, were careful +to keep up with the progress of the time, examining tendencies, keeping +a vigilant eye upon fashions, books, and personages, and, above all, +encouraging the young friends to exercise their own powers of +discrimination in following usages and customs, or in departing from +them. + +This last suggestion marks how far the writer of these pages is behind +the progress of the age. In her youth, it was customary for sons and +daughters both to seek and to heed the counsel of elders in social +matters. In these days, a grandmother must ask her granddaughter whether +such or such a thing is considered "good form," to which the latter will +often reply, "O dear! no." + + * * * * * + +It is sad that we should carry all the barbarism of our nature into our +views of the divine, and make our form of faith an occasion of ill-will +to others, instead of drawing from it the inspiration of a wide and +comprehensive charity. The world's Christianity is greatly open to this +accusation, in dealing with which we are forced to take account of the +slow rate of human progress. + +A friend lately told me of a pious American, familiar in Hong Kong, who +at the close of his last visit there, took a formal and eternal leave +of one of the principal native merchants with whom he had long been +acquainted. Mr. C---- alluded to his advanced age, and said that it was +almost certain he could never return to China. "We shall not meet again +in this world," he said, "and as you have never embraced the true +religion, I can have no hope of meeting you in a better one." + +I ask whether this was polite, from one sinner to another? + +A stupid, worldly old woman of fashion in one of our large cities once +said of a most exemplary acquaintance, a liberal Christian saint of +thirty years or more ago: "I am very fond of Mrs. S---- but she is a +Unitarian. What a pity we cannot hope to meet in heaven!" The wicked +bystanders had their own view of the reason why this meeting would +appear very improbable. + +What shall we say of the hospitality which in some churches renders each +man and woman the savage guardian of a seat or pew? Is this God's house +to you, when you turn with fury on a stranger who exercises a stranger's +right to its privileges? Whatever may be preached from the pulpit of +such a church, there is not much of heaven in the seats so maintained +and defended. I remember an Episcopal church in one of our large cities +which a modest looking couple entered one Sunday, taking seats in an +unoccupied pew near the pulpit. And presently comes in the plumed head +of the family, followed by its other members. The strangers are warned +to depart, which they do, not without a smile of suppressed amusement. +The church-woman afterwards learned that the persons whom she had turned +out of her pew were the English ambassador and his wife, the +accomplished Lord and Lady Napier. + +St. Paul tells us that in an unknown guest we may entertain an angel +unawares. But I will say that in giving way to such evil impulses, +people entertain a devil unawares. + +Polite religion has to do both with manners and with doctrine. Tolerance +is the external condition of this politeness, but charity is its +interior source. A doctrine which allows and encourages one set of men +to exclude another set from claim to the protection and inspiration of +God is in itself impolite. Christ did not reproach the Jews for holding +their own tenets, but for applying these tenets in a superficial and +narrow spirit, neglecting to practise true devotion and benevolence, and +refusing to learn the providential lessons which the course of time +should have taught them. At this day of the world, we should all be +ready to admit that salvation lies not so much in the prescriptions of +any religion as in the spirit in which these are followed. + +It is the fashion to-day to decry missions. I believe in them greatly. +But a missionary should start with a polite theory concerning the +religion which he hopes to supersede by the introduction of one more +polite. If he studies rightly, he will see that all religions seek after +God, and will imitate the procedure of Paul, who, before instructing the +Athenians in the doctrines of the new religion, was careful to recognize +the fact that they had a religion of their own. + +I wish to speak here of the so-called rudeness of reform; and to say +that I think we should call this roughness rather than rudeness. A true +reformer honors human nature by recognizing in it a higher power than is +shown in its average action. The man or woman who approaches you, urging +upon you a more fervent faith, a more impartial justice, a braver +resolve than you find in your own mind, comes to you really in +reverence, and not in contempt. Such a person sees in you the power and +dignity of manhood or womanhood, of which you, perhaps, have an +insufficient sense. And he will strike and strike until he finds in you +that better nature, that higher sense to which he appeals, and which in +the end is almost sure to respond to such appealing. + +I remember having thought in my youth that the Presbyterian preacher, +John Knox, was probably very impolite in his sermons preached before +poor Queen Mary Stuart. But when we reflect upon the follies which, more +than aught else, wrecked her unhappy life, we may fancy the stern divine +to have seen whither her love of pleasure and ardent temperament would +lead her, and to have striven, to the best of his knowledge and power, +to pluck her as a brand from the burning, and to bring her within the +sober sphere of influence and reflection which might have saved her +kingdom and her life. + +With all its advances, society still keeps some traces of its original +barbarism. I see these traces in the want of respect for labor, where +this want exists, and also in the position which mere Fashion is apt to +assign to teachers in the community. + +That those who must be intellectually looked up to should be socially +looked down upon is, to say the least, very inconsistent. That the +performance of the helpful offices of the household should be held as +degrading to those who perform them is no less so. We must seek the +explanation of these anomalies in the distant past. When the handiwork +of society was performed by slaves, the world's estimate of labor was +naturally lowered. In the feudal and military time, the writer ranked +below the fighter, and the skill of learning below the prowess of arms. +The mind of to-day has only partially outgrown this very rude standard +of judgment. I was asked, some fifteen years ago, in England, by people +of education, whether women teachers ranked in America with ladies or +with working women. I replied: "With ladies, certainly," which seemed to +occasion surprise. + +I remember having heard that a relative of Theodore Parker's wife, who +disliked him, would occasionally taunt him with having kept school. She +said to him one day: "My father always told me to avoid a schoolmaster." +Parker replied: "It is evident that you have." + +I think that as Americans we should all feel an especial interest in the +maintenance of polite feeling in our community. The theory of a +government of the people, by the people, and for the people is in itself +the most polite of theories. The fact that under such a government no +man has a position of absolute inferiority forced upon him for life +ought to free us from mean subserviency on the one hand, and from +haughty and brutal assumption on the other. + +Yet I doubt whether politeness is as much considered in American +education as it ought to be. Perhaps our theory of the freedom and +equality of all men leads some of us to the mistaken conclusion that all +people equally know how to behave themselves, which is far from being +the fact. + +One result of our not being well instructed in the nature of politeness +is that we go to the wrong sources to learn it. People who have been +modestly bred think they shall acquire fine manners by consorting with +the world's great people, and in this way often unlearn what they +already know of good manners, instead of adding to their knowledge. + +Rich Americans seem latterly to have taken on a sort of craze about the +aristocracies of other countries. One form of this craze is the desire +of ambitious parents to marry their daughters to titled individuals +abroad. When we consider that these counts, marquises, and barons +scarcely disguise the fact that the young lady's fortune is the object +of their pursuit, and that the young lady herself is generally aware of +this, we shall not consider marriage under such circumstances a very +polite relation. + +What does make our people polite, then? Partly the inherited blood of +men who would not submit to the rude despotism of old England and old +Europe, and who thought a better state of society worth a voyage in the +_Mayflower_ and a tussle with the wild forest and wilder Indian. Partly, +also, the necessity of the case. As we recognize no absolute social +superiority, no one of us is entirely at liberty to assume airs of +importance which do not belong to him. No matter how selfish we may be, +it will not do for us to act upon the supposition that the comfort of +other people is of less consequence than our own. If we are rude, our +servants will not live with us, our tradespeople will not serve us. + +This is good as far as it goes, but I wish that I could oftener see in +our young people a desire to know what is perfectly and beautifully +polite. And I feel sure that more knowledge in this direction would +save us from the vulgarity of worshipping rank and wealth. + +Who have been the polite spirits of our day? I can mention two of them, +Mr. Longfellow and Mr. Emerson, as persons in whose presence it was +impossible to be rude. But our young people of to-day consider the great +fortunes rather than the great examples. + +In order to be polite, it is important to cultivate polite ways of +thinking. Great social troubles and even crimes grow out of rude and +selfish habits of mind. Let us take the case of the Anarchists who were +executed in Chicago some years ago. Before their actions became wicked, +their thoughts became very impolite. They were men who had to work for +their living. They wanted to be so rich that they should not be under +this necessity. Their mode of reasoning was something like this: "I want +money. Who has got it? The capitalist. What protects him in keeping it? +The laws. Down with the laws, then!" + +He who reasons thus forgets, foolish man, that the laws protect the poor +as well as the rich. The laws compel the capitalist to make roads for +the use of the poor man, and to build schoolhouses for the education of +his children. They make the person of the poor man as sacred as that of +the rich man. They secure to both the enjoyment of the greatest +benefits of civilization. The Anarchist puts all this behind him, and +only reasons that he, being poor, wants to be rich, and will overthrow, +if he can, the barriers which keep him from rushing like a wild beast +upon the rich man and despoiling him of his possessions. + +And this makes me think of that noble man Socrates, whom the Athenians +sentenced to death for impiety, because he taught that there was one +God, while the people about him worshipped many deities. Some of the +friends of this great man made a plan for his escape from prison to a +place of safety. But Socrates refused to go, saying that the laws had +hitherto protected him as they protected other citizens, and that it +would be very ungrateful for him to show them the disrespect of running +away to evade their sentence. He said: "It is better for me to die than +to set the example of disrespect to the laws." How noble were these +sentiments, and how truly polite! + +Whoever brings up his children to be sincere, self-respecting, and +considerate of others brings them up to good manners. Did you ever see +an impolite Quaker? I never did. Yet the Friends are a studiously plain +people, no courtiers nor frequenters of great entertainments. What makes +them polite? The good education and discipline which are handed down +among them from one generation to another. + +The eminent men of our own early society were simple in their way of +living, but when public duty called them abroad to mingle with the +elegant people of the Old World, they did us great credit. Benjamin +Franklin was much admired at the court of Louis XVI. Jay and Jefferson +and Morris and Adams found their manners good enough to content the +highest European society. They were educated men; but besides +book-learning, and above it, they had been bred to have the thoughts +and, more than all, the feelings of gentlemen. + +The assumption of special merit, either by an individual or a class, is +not polite. We notice this fault when some dressy young lady puts on +airs, and struts in fine clothes, or condescends from an elegant +carriage. Elder women show it in hardness and hauteur of countenance, or +in unnecessary patronage. + +But we allow classes of people to assume special merit on false grounds. +It may very easily be shown that it requires more talent and merit to +earn money than to spend it. Yet, by almost common consent of the +fashionable world, those who inherit or marry money are allowed to place +themselves above those who earn it. + +If this is the case so far as men are concerned, much more is it the +case with women. Good society often feels itself obliged to apologize +for a lady who earns money. The fact, however explained, is a badge of +discredit. She could not help it, poor thing! Her father failed, or her +trustee lost the investments made for her. He usually does. So she +has--oh, sad alternative!--to make herself useful. + +Now in America the judgment of the Old World in this respect has come to +be somewhat reversed. We do not like idle inheritors here; and so the +moneyed aristocracy of our country is a tolerably energetic and +industrious body. But in the case of womankind, I could wish to see a +very different standard adopted from that now existing. I could wish +that the fact of an idle and useless life should need apology--not that +of a laborious and useful one. Idleness is a pregnant source of +demoralization to rich women. The hurry and excitement of fashionable +engagements, and the absorbing nature of entirely selfish and useless +pursuits, such as dancing, dress, and flirtation, cannot take the place +of healthful work. Dr. Watts warns us that + + Satan finds some mischief still + For idle hands to do. + +And Tennyson has some noble lines in one of his noblest poems:-- + + I know you, Clara Vere de Vere, + You pine among your halls and towers; + The languid light of your proud eyes + Is wearied of the rolling hours. + In glowing health, with boundless wealth, + But sickening of a vague disease, + You know so ill to deal with time, + You needs must play such pranks as these. + +As I am speaking of England, I will say that some things in the +constitution of English society seem to tend to impoliteness. + +The English are a most powerful and energetic race, with immense +vitality, cruelly divided up in their own country by absolute social +conditions, handed down from generation to generation. So a sense of +superiority, more or less lofty and exaggerated, characterizes the upper +classes, while the lower partly rest in a dogged compliance, partly +indulge the blind instinct of reverence, partly detest and despise those +whom birth and fate have set over them. In England, people assert their +own rank and look down upon that of others all the way from the throne +to the peasant's hut. I asked an English visitor, the other day, what +inferior the lowest man had,--the man at the bottom of the social pile. +I answered him myself: "His wife, of course." + +Where worldliness gives the tone to character, it corrupts the source of +good manners, and the outward polish is purchased by the inward +corruption of the heart. The crucial experiment of character is found in +the transition from modest competency to conspicuous wealth and fashion. +Most of us may desire this; but I should rather say: Dread it. I have +seen such sweetness and beauty impaired by the process, such +relinquishment of the genuine, such gradual adoption of the false and +meretricious! + +Such was a house in which I used to meet all the muses of the earlier +time,--in which economy was elegant; frugality, tasteful and thrifty. My +heart recalls the golden hours passed there, the genial, home +atmosphere, the unaffected music, the easy, brilliant conversation. Time +passes. A or B is the head of a great mercantile house now. I meet him +after a lapse of years. He is always genial, and pities all who are not +so rich as he is. But when I go to his great feast, I pity him. All the +tiresome and antiquated furniture of fashionable society fills his +rooms. Those empty bores whom I remember in my youth, and many new ones +of their kind, float their rich clothing through his rooms. The old +good-hearted greeting is replaced by the distant company bow. The +moderate banquet, whose special dishes used to have the care of the +young hostess, is replaced by a grand confectioner's avalanche, cold, +costly, and comfortless. And I sigh, and go home feeling, as Browning +says, "chilly and grown old." + +This is not one case, but many. And since I have observed this page of +human experience, I say to all whom I love and who are in danger of +becoming very wealthy: Do not, oh! do not be too fashionable. "Love not +the world." + +Most of us know the things men really say to us beneath the disguise of +the things they seem to say. And So-and-So, taking my hand, expresses to +me: "How much more cordial should I be to you if your father's real +estate had not been sold off before the rise." And such another would, +if he could, say: "I am really surprised to see you at this house, and +in such good clothes. Pray have you any income that I don't happen to +know about?" The tax-gatherer is not half so vigilant about people's +worldly goods as these friends are. No matter how they bow and smile, +their real impoliteness everywhere penetrates its thin disguise. + +What is this impoliteness? To what is it shown? To God's image,--the +true manhood and true womanhood, which you may strip or decorate, but +which you cannot destroy. Human values cannot be raised or lowered at +will. "Thou canst not, by taking thought, add one cubit to thy stature." +I derive impoliteness from two sources,--indifference to the divine, and +contempt for the human. + +The king of Wall Street, some little time since, was a man who had risen +from a humble beginning to the eminence of a successful stock-gambler. +He had been fortunate and perhaps skilful in his play, and was supposed +to be possessed of immense wealth. Immediately, every door was opened to +him. No assemblage was perfect without him. Every designing mother +wanted him for her son-in-law. One unlucky throw overturned all this. +Down went his fortune; down, his eminence. No more bowing and cringing +and smiling now. No more plotting against his celibacy--he was welcome +to it. No more burthensome hospitality. He was dropped as coldly and +selfishly as he was taken up,--elbowed aside, left out in the cold. When +I heard of all this, I said: "Is it ever necessary in these times to +preach about the meanness of the great world?" + +Let us, in our new world, lay aside altogether the theory of human +superiority as conferred by special birth or fortune. Let us recognize +in all people human right, capacity, and dignity. + +Having adopted this equal human platform, and with it the persuasion +that the society of good people is always good society, let us organize +our circles by real tastes and sympathies. Those who love art can follow +it together; those who love business, and science, and theology, and +belles-lettres, can group themselves harmoniously around the object +which especially attracts them. + +But people shall, in this new order, seek to fill their own place as +they find it. No crowding up or down, or in or out. A quiet reference to +the standard of education and to the teachings of Nature will show each +one where he belongs. Religion shall show the supreme source of power +and of wisdom near to all who look for it. And this final unity of the +religious sense shall knit together the happy human variety into one +great complex interest, one steadfast faith, one harmonious effort. + +The present essay, I must say, was written in great part for this very +society which, assuming to take the lead in social attainment, often +falls lamentably short of its promise. But let us enlarge the ground of +our remarks by a more general view of American society. + +I have travelled in this country North and South, East and West. I have +seen many varieties of our national life. I think that I have seen +everywhere the capacity for social enjoyment. In many places, I have +found the notion of co-operation for good ends, which is a most +important element in any society. What I have seen makes me think that +we Americans start from a vantage-ground compared with other nations. As +mere social units, we are ranked higher than Britons or continental +Europeans. + +This higher estimation begins early in life. Every child in this country +is considered worth educating. The State will rescue the child of the +pauper or criminal from the ignorance which has been a factor in the +condition of its parents. Even the idiot has a school provided for him, +in which he may receive such training as he can profit by. This general +education starts us on a pretty high level. We have, no doubt, all the +faults of our human nature, but we know, too, how and why these should +be avoided. + +Then the great freedom of outlook which our institutions give us is in +our favor. We need call no man Master. We can pursue the highest aims, +aspire to the noblest distinctions. We have no excuse for contenting +ourselves with the paltry objects and illusory ambitions which play so +large a part in Old-World society. + +The world grows better and not worse, but it does not grow better +everywhere all the time. Wherever human effort to a given end is +intermitted, society does not attain that end, and is in danger of +gradually losing it from view, and thus of suffering an unconscious +deterioration which it may become difficult to retrieve. I do not think +that the manners of so-called polite society to-day are quite so polite +as they were in my youth. Young women of fashion seem to me to have lost +in dignity of character and in general tone and culture. Young men of +fashion seem to regard the young ladies with less esteem and deference, +and a general cheap and easy standard of manners is the result. + +On the other hand, outside this charmed circle of fashion, I find the +tone of taste and culture much higher than I remember it to have been in +my youth. I find women leading nobler and better lives, filling larger +and higher places, enjoying the upper air of thought where they used to +rest upon the very soil of domestic care and detail. So the community +gains, although one class loses,--and that, remember, the class which +assumes to give to the rest the standard of taste. + +Instead of dwelling too much upon the faults of our neighbors, let us +ask whether we are not, one and all of us, under sacred obligations to +carry our race onward toward a nobler social ideal. In Old-World +countries, people lack room for new ideas. The individual who would +introduce and establish these may be imprisoned, or sent to Siberia, or +may suffer, at the least, a social ostracism which is a sort of +martyrdom. + +Here we have room enough; we cannot excuse ourselves on that ground. And +we have strength enough--we, the people. Let us only have the _royal_ +will which good Mr. Whittier has celebrated in "Barbara Frietchie," and +we shall be able, by a resolute and persevering effort, to place our +civilization where no lingering trace of barbarism shall deform and +disgrace it. + + + + +Paris. + + +AN old woman's tale will always begin with a reminiscence of some period +more or less remote. + +In accordance with this law of nature, I find that I cannot begin to +speak of Paris without going back to the projection which the fashions +and manners of that ancient capital were able to cast upon my own native +city of New York. My recollections of the latter reach back, let me say, +to the year 1826. I was then seven years old; and, beginning to take +notice of things around me, I saw the social eminences of the day lit up +with the far-off splendors of Parisian taste. + +To speak French with ease was, in those days, considered the most +desirable of accomplishments. The elegance of French manners was +commended in all polite circles. The services of General Lafayette were +held up to children as deserving their lifelong remembrance and +gratitude. + +But the culmination of the _Gallomania_ was seen in the millinery of the +period; and I must confess that my earliest views of this were enjoyed +within the precincts of a certain Episcopal sanctuary which then stood +first upon the dress-list, and, like Jove among the gods, without a +second. This establishment retained its pre-eminence of toilet for more +than thirty years after the time of which I speak, and perhaps does so +still. I have now lived so long in Boston that I should be obliged to +consult New York authorities if I wished to be able to say decidedly +whether the well-known Grace Church of that city still deserves to be +called "The Church of the Holy Milliner." A little child's fancy +naturally ran riot in a field of bonnets so splendid and showy, and, +however admonished to listen to the minister, I am afraid that a raid +upon the flowers and plumes so lavishly displayed before me would have +offered more attractions to my tender mind than any itinerary of the +celestial journey of which I should have been likely to hear in that +place. + +The French dancing-master of that period taught us gambols and +flourishes long since banished from the domain of social decorum. Being +light and alert, I followed his prescriptions with joy, and learned with +patience the lessons set me by the French mistress, who, while leading +us through Florian's tales and La Fontaine's fables, did not forget to +impress upon us her conviction that to be French was to be virtuous, but +to be Parisian was to be perfect. + +Let me now pass on to the years of my youngladyhood, when New York +reflected Paris on a larger scale. The distinguished people of the +society to which my youth was related either had been to Paris or +expected to go there very shortly. Our circles were sometimes +electrified by the appearance of a well-dressed and perfumed stranger, +wearing the moustache which was then strictly contraband in the New York +business world, and talking of manners and customs widely different from +our own. + +These elegant gentlemen were sometimes adventurers in pursuit of a rich +wife, sometimes intelligent and well-informed travellers, and sometimes +the agents of some foreign banking-house, for the drummer was not yet +invented. If they were furnished with satisfactory credentials, the +fathers of Gotham introduced them into their domestic circle, usually +warning their daughters never to think of them as husbands,--a warning +which, naturally, would sometimes defeat its own object. + +I must here be allowed to say one word concerning the French novel, +which, since that time, has here and there affected the tone of our +society. In the days of which I speak, brothers who returned from Europe +brought with them the romances of Balzac and Victor Hugo, which their +sisters surreptitiously read. We heard also with a sort of terror of +George Sand, the evil woman, who wrote such somnambulic books. We +pictured to ourselves the wicked delight of reading them; and presently +some friend confidentially lent us the forbidden volumes, which our +Puritan nurture and habit of life did much to render harmless and not +quite clear in meaning. + +I should say that the works of Balzac, George Sand, Victor Hugo, and +Eugne Sue had each exerted an appreciable influence upon the social +atmosphere of this country. Of these four, Balzac was the least popular, +having long been known only to readers acquainted with the French +language. George Sand first became widely recognized through her +"Consuelo." Victor Hugo's popular fame dates from "Les Miserables," and +"The Mysteries of Paris" opened the doors to Eugne Sue, and _Rigolette_ +and _Fleur de Marie_, new types of character to most of us, appeared +upon the stage. + +Still nearer was Paris brought to us by Carlyle's work on the French +Revolution, which, falling like a compact and burning coal upon the +American imagination, reddened the sober twilight of our firesides with +the burning passion and frenzy of that great drama of enthusiasm and +revenge. And here, lest I should entirely reverse the order in which +historic things should be spoken of, let me dismiss those early +memories, and, having shown you something of the far-reaching influence +of the city, let me speak of it from nearer sight and study. + +History must come first. I find it written in a certain record that +Paris, in the time of Julius Csar, was a collection of huts built upon +an island in the Seine, and bearing the name of Lutetia. Its +inhabitants were called Parisii, which was the name of their tribe, +supposed to be an offshoot from the Belg. I do not know whether this +primitive settlement lay within the bounds of Gallia _Bracchiata_; but, +if it did, how natural that to the other indebtedness of polite life, +that of the trouser should be added! The city still possesses some +interesting remains of the Roman period. The Hotel Cluny is also called +"The Hotel of the Baths," and whoever visits it may at the same time +explore a massive ruin which is said to have covered beneath its roof +the baths of the Emperor Julian, surnamed "The Apostate." + +A rapid panoramic retrospect will give us briefly the leading points of +the city's many periods of interest. First must be named Paris of the +early saints: Saint Genevieve, who saved it from the hands of Attila; +Saint Denis, famous for having walked several miles after his head was +cut off, carrying that deposed member under his arm. + +A well-known French proverb was suggested some time in the last century +by the relation of this medival miracle. The celebrated Madame +Dudeffant, a wit and beauty of Horace Walpole's time, was told one day +that the Archbishop of Paris had said that every one knew that Saint +Denis had walked some distance after his decapitation, but that few +people were aware that he had walked several miles on that occasion. +Madame Dudeffant said, in reply: "Indeed, in such a case, it is the +first step only that costs,"--_"Ce n'est que le premier pas qui cote."_ + +Paris of the sleepy Merovingians,--do-nothing kings, a race made to be +kicked out, and fulfilling its destiny,--Paris of Hugh Capet, in whose +reign were laid the foundations of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Paris of +1176, whereof the old chronicler, John of Salisbury, writes: "When I saw +the abundance of provisions, the gaiety of the people, the good +condition of the clergy, the majesty and glory of all the church, the +diverse occupations of men admitted to the study of philosophy, I seemed +to see that Jacob's ladder whose summit reached heaven, and on which the +angels ascended and descended. I must confess that truly the Lord was in +this place. This passage also of a poet came to my mind: 'Happy is the +man whose exile is to this place.'" + +This suggests the familiar saying of our own time,--that good +Bostonians, when they die, go to Paris. + +Paris of Louis XI., he of the strong hand, the stony heart, the +superstitious mind. Scott has seized the features of the time and of the +man in his novel of "Quentin Durward." His hat, full of leaden images of +saints, his cunning and pitiless diplomacy, and the personages of his +brilliant court are brought vividly before us by the magician of the +North. + +Paris of Louis XIII., and its Richelieu live for us in Bulwer's vivid +play, in which I have often seen the fine impersonation of Edwin Booth. + +Paris of Louis XIV., the handsome young king, the idol, the absolute +sovereign, who said: _"L'tat, c'est moi;"_ the old man before whom +Madame de Maintenon is advised to say her prayers, in order to make upon +his mind a serious impression; the revoker of the edict of Nantes; he +who tried to extinguish Dutch freedom with French blood; a god in his +own time, a figure now faded, pompous, self-adoring. + +Paris of Louis XV., the reign of license, the _Parc aux cerfs_, the +period of the courtesan, Madame de Pompadour, and a host of rivals and +successors,--a hateful type of womanhood, justly odious and gladly +forgotten. + +Paris of Louis XVI., the days of progress and of good intentions; the +deficit, the ministry of Neckar, the states general, Mirabeau, +Lafayette, Robespierre, the fall of the monarch, the reign of terror; +the guillotine in permanence, science, virtue, every distinction +supplying its victims. + +Paris of Napoleon I.; a whiff of grape-shot that silences the last +grumblings of the Revolution; the mighty marches, the strategy of +Ulysses, the labors of Hercules, the glory of Jupiter, ending in the +fate of Prometheus. + +Paris of the returned Bourbons, Charles X., the Duc de Berri, the +Duchess d'Angoulme; Paris of the Orleans dynasty, civil, civic, free, +witty; wise here, and wicked there; the Mecca of students in all +sciences; a region problematic to parents, who fear its vices and +expense, but who desire its opportunities and elegance for their sons. +This was in the days in which a visit to Paris was the _ne plus ultra_ +of what parents could do to forward a son's studies, or perfect a +daughter's accomplishments. + +Having made my connections in this breathless review, I must return to +speak of two modern works of art which treat of matters upon which my +haste did not allow me, in the first instance, to dwell. + +The first of these is Victor Hugo's picture of medival Paris, given in +his famous romance entitled "Notre Dame de Paris." This remarkable novel +preserves valuable details of the architecture of the ancient cathedral +from which it takes its name. It paints the society of the time in +gloomy colors. The clergy are corrupt, the soldiery licentious, the +people forlorn and friendless. Here is a brief outline of the story. The +beautiful gipsy, _Esmeralda_, dances and twirls her tambourine in the +public streets. Her companion is a little goat, which she has taught to +spell her lover's name, by putting together the letters which compose +it. This lover is _Phoebus_, captain of the guard. _Claude Frollo_, +the cunning, wicked priest of the period, has cast his evil eye upon the +girl. He manages to surprise her when alone with her lover, and stabs +the latter so as to endanger his life. A hideous dwarf, named +_Quasimodo_, also loves _Esmeralda_, with humble, faithful affection. As +the story develops, he turns out to have been the changeling laid in the +place of the lovely girl-infant whom gipsies stole from her cradle. +_Esmeralda_ finds her distracted parent, but only to be torn from her +arms again. The priest, _Claude Frollo_, foiled in his unlawful passion, +stirs up the wrath of the populace against _Esmeralda_, accusing her of +sorcery. She is seized by the mob, and hanged in the public street. The +narrative is powerful and graphic, but it shows the disease of Victor +Hugo's mind,--a morbid imagination which heightens the color of human +crimes in order to give a melodramatic brilliancy to the virtue which +contrasts with them. According to his view, suffering through the fault +of others is necessarily the lot of all good people. French romance has +in it much of this despair of the cause of virtue. It springs, however +remotely, from the dark days of absolutism, whose bitter secrets were +masked over by the frolic fancy of the people who invented the joyous +science of minstrelsy. + +The other work which I have now in mind is Meyerbeer's opera of "The +Huguenots," which I mention here because it brings so vividly to mind +the features of another period in the history of Paris. It represents, +as an opera may, the frightful days in which a king's hospitality was +made a trap for the wholesale butchery of as many Protestants as could +be lured within the walls of Paris,--the massacre which bears the name +of Saint Bartholomew. Nobles and leaders were shot down in the streets, +or murdered in their beds, while the hollow phrases of the royal favor +still rang in their ears. I have seen, near the church of St. Germain +l'Auxerois, the palace window from which the kerchief of Catherine de +Medici gave the signal for the fatal onslaught. "Do you not believe my +word?" asked the Queen Mother one day of the English ambassador. "No, by +Saint Bartholomew, Madam," was the sturdy reply. + +Meyerbeer's opera is truly a Protestant work of art, vigorous and noble. +Through all the intensity of its dramatic situations runs the grand +choral of Luther:-- + + A mighty fortress is our God. + +So true faith holds its own, and sails its silver boat upon the bloody +sea of martyrdom. + +Am I obliged to have recourse to a novel and an opera in order to bring +before your eyes a vision of Paris in those distant ages? Such are our +indebtednesses to art and literature. And here I must again mention, as +a great master in both of these, Thomas Carlyle, who has given us so +vivid and graphic a picture of the Revolution in France, which followed +so nearly upon our own War of Independence. + +I, a grandmother of to-day, recall the impression which this great +conflict had made upon the grandparents of my childhood. Most wicked and +cruel did they esteem it, in all of its aspects. To people of our day, +it appears the inevitable crisis of a most malignant state of national +disease. Much of political quackery was swept away forever, one may +hope, by its virulent outbreak. No half-way nostrums, no outside +tinkering, answered for this fiery patient, whose fever set the whole +continent of Europe in a blaze. War itself was gentle in comparison with +the acts of its savage delirium, in which the vengeance of defrauded +ages fell upon victims most of whom were innocent of personal offence. +The reign of humanitarian theory led strangely to a period of military +predominance which has had no parallel since the days of Alexander of +Macedon. Then War itself died of exhaustion. The stupor of reaction +quenched the dream of civil and religious liberty. But the patient +stirred again in 1830 and 1848, and the dream, scarcely yet realized, +became more and more the settled purpose of his heart. + +Now the government in 1830 was manifestly in the wrong. The stupid old +Bourbon Prince, Charles X., had learned nothing, and forgotten nothing, +but the French people had learned and unlearned many things. They had +learned the illusion of Monarchy, the corruption of the demagogue, the +futility of the sentimentalist. The impotence of the aristocracy was one +of the lessons of the day. Was ever a people more rapidly educated? Take +the _canaille_ of the pre-revolutionary history, and the _peuple_ of the +Revolution. What a contrast! It is the lion asleep in the toils, and the +lion awake, and turning upon his captors in fury. The French people have +never gone back to what they were before that great outbreak. The +mighty, volcanic heart has made its pulsations felt through all +assumptions, through all restraints. Yet the French people are easily +tricked. They are easily led to receive pedantry for education, bigotry +for religion, constraint for order, and successful pretension for glory. + +The Revolution of 1848 was justified in all but its method. And method +has often been the weak point in French politics. Methods are handed +down more surely than ideas are inherited. The violent measures whose +record forms so large a part of French history have left behind them a +belief in military, rather than in moral, action. The _coup d'tat_ +would seem by its name to be a French invention; but it is a method +abhorred of Justice. Justice recognizes two sides, and gives ear to +both. Passion sees but one, and blots out in blood the representatives +of the other. The Revolution of 1848 was the rather premature explosion +of a wide and subtle conspiracy. But if the conflicting opinions and +interests then current could have encountered each other, as in England +or America, in open daylight, trusting only in the weapons of reason, a +very different result would have been achieved. Do not conspire, is one +of the lessons which Paris teaches by her history. Do not say, nor teach +others to say: "If we cannot have our way, we will have your life." Say, +rather: "Let both sides state their case, and plead their cause, and let +the weight of Reason decide which shall prevail." + + * * * * * + +Paris as I first knew it, half a century ago, was a place imposing for +its good taste and good manners. A stranger passing through it with ever +so little delay would necessarily have been impressed with the general +intelligence, and with the sthetic invention and nicety which, more +than anything else, have given the city its social and commercial +prestige. + +In those days, Chateaubriand and Madame Rcamier were still alive. The +traditions of society were polite. The theatres were vivacious schools +of morality. The salon was still an institution. This was not what we +should call a party, but the habitual meeting of friends in a friend's +house,--a good institution, if kept up in a good spirit. + +The natural sociability of the French made the salon an easy and natural +thing for them. Salons were of all sorts. Some shone in true glory; some +disguised evil purposes and passions with artificial graces. I think the +institution of the salon indigenous to Paris, although it has by no +means stopped there. + +The great point in administering a salon is to do it sincerely. Where +the children are put out of the way, the old friends neglected, the rich +courted, and celebrities impaled and exhibited, the institution is +demoralizing, and answers no end of permanent good. A friendly house, +that opens its doors as often and as widely as the time and fortune of +its inmates can afford, is a boon and blessing to many people. + +I suppose that the French salons were of both sorts. Sydney Smith speaks +of a certain historical set of Parisian women who dealt very lightly +with the Decalogue, but who, on the other hand, gave very pleasant +little suppers. French society, no doubt, afforded many occasions of +this sort, but far different were the meetings in which the literary +world of Paris listened to the unpublished memoirs of Chateaubriand; far +different was the throng that gathered, twice a day, around the hearth +of the wise and devout Madame Swetchine. + +In the days just mentioned, I passed through Paris, returning from my +bridal journey, which had carried me to Rome. I was eager to explore +every corner of the enchanted region. What I did see, I have never +forgotten,--the brilliant shops, the tempting _cafs_, the varied and +entertaining theatres. I attended a _sance_ of the Chamber of Deputies, +a lecture of Edgar de Quinet, and one of Philarete Charles. De Quinet's +lecture was given at the Sorbonne. I remember of it only the enthusiasm +of the audience,--the faces at once fiery and thoughtful, the occasional +cries of "De Quinet," when any passage particularly stirred the feelings +of the auditors. Of Philarete Charles, I remember that his theme was +"English Literature," and that at the close of his lecture he took +occasion to reprobate the whole literary world of America. The _bon +homme_ Franklin, he said, had outwitted the French Court. The country of +Franklin was utterly without interest from an intellectual point of +view. "When," said he, "we take into account the late lamentable +disorders in New York (some small election riot, in 1844), we shall +agree upon the low state of American civilization and the small +prospect of good held out by the republic." He was unaware, of course, +that Americans were among his hearers; but a certain tidal wave of anger +arose in my heart, and had not my graver companion held me down, I +should have arisen then, as I certainly should now, to say: "Monsieur +Philarete Charles, you are uttering falsehoods." + +In those days, I first saw Rachel, then in the full affluence of her +genius. The trenchant manner, the statuesque drapery, the +chain-lightning effects, were much as they were afterwards seen in this +country. But when I saw her, seven years after that first time, in +London, I thought that her unrivalled powers had bloomed to a still +fuller perfection than before. Of finest clay, thrilled by womanly +passion and tempered by womanly tact, we need not remember the faults of +the person in the perfection of the artist. Alfred de Musset has left a +charming account of a supper at her house. I certainly have never seen +on the boards a tragic conception equal to hers. Ristori, able as she +was, seemed to me to fall short in Rachel's great parts, if we except +the last scene of "Marie Stuart," in which the Christian woman, +following the crucifix to her death, showed a sense of its value which +the Jewish woman could neither feel nor counterfeit. + +The gallery of the Louvre recalls the finest palaces of Italy, and +equals, in value and interest, any gallery in the world. Venice is far +richer in Titian's pictures, and Rome and Florence keep the greatest +works of Raphael and Michael Angelo. To understand Quintin Matsys and +Rubens, you must go to Antwerp, where their finest productions remain. +But the Louvre has an unsurpassed variety and interest, and exhibits not +a few of the chief treasures of ancient and modern art. Among these are +some of the masterpieces of Titian, Raphael, and Leonardo da Vinci, the +Conception of Murillo, Paul Veronese's great picture of the marriage at +Cana in Galilee, and the ever-famous Venus of Milo. + +In one of the principal galleries of Venice, I was once shown a large +picture by the French artist David. I do not remember much about its +merits, but, on asking how it came there, I was told that its place had +formerly been occupied by a famous picture by Paul Veronese. Napoleon +I., it will be remembered, robbed the galleries of Italy of many of +their finest pictures. After his downfall, most of these stolen +treasures were restored to their rightful owners; but the French never +gave up the Paul Veronese picture, which was this very one that now +hangs in the Louvre, where its vivid coloring and rich grouping look +like a piece of Venice, bright and glorious like herself. + +The student of art, returning from Italy, is possessed with the medival +gloom and glory which there have filled his eyes and his imagination. +With a sigh, looking toward our Western world, so rich in action, so +poor as yet in art, he pauses here in surprise, to view a cosmopolitan +palace of her splendors. It consoles him to think that the Beautiful has +made so brave a stand upon the nearer borders of the Seine. Encouraged +by the noble record of French achievement, he carries with him across +the ocean the traditions of Jerome, of Rosa Bonheur, of Horace Vernet. + + * * * * * + +In historical monuments, Paris is rich indeed. The oldest of these that +I remember was the Temple,--the ancient stronghold of the Knights +Templar, who were cruelly extirpated in the year 1307. It was a large, +circular building, occupied, when I visited it, as a place for the sale +of second-hand commodities. I remember making purchases of lace within +its walls which were nearly black with age. You will remember that Louis +XVI. and his family were confined here for some time, and that here took +place the sad parting between the King and the dear ones he was never to +see again. I will subjoin a brief extract from the diary of my +grandfather, Col. Samuel Ward, of the Revolutionary War, who was in +Paris at the time of the King's execution:-- + + _January 17, 1792._ The Convention up all night upon the question + of the King's sentence. At eleven this night the sentence of death + was pronounced,--three hundred and sixty-six for death; three + hundred and nineteen for seclusion or banishment; thirty-six + various; majority of five absolute. The King desired an appeal to + be made to the people, which was not allowed. Thus the Convention + have been the accusers, the judges, and will be the executors of + their own sentence. This will cause a great degree of astonishment + in America, where the departments are so well divided that the + judges have power to break all acts of the Legislature interfering + with the exercise of their office. + + _January 20._ The fate of the King disturbs everybody. + + _January 21._ I had engaged to pass this day, which is one of + horror, at Versailles, with Mr. Morris. The King was beheaded at + eleven o'clock. Guards at an early hour took possession of the + Place Louis XV., and were posted at each avenue. The most profound + stillness prevailed. Those who had feeling lamented in secret in + their houses, or had left town. Others showed the same levity and + barbarous indifference as on former occasions. Hitchborn, + Henderson, and Johnson went to see the execution, for which, as an + American, I was sorry. The King desired to speak: he had only time + to say he was innocent, and forgave his enemies. He behaved with + the fortitude of a martyr. Santerre ordered the executioner to + dispatch. + +Louis Napoleon ordered the destruction of this venerable monument of +antiquity, and did much else to efface the landmarks of the ancient +Paris, and to give his elegant capital the air of a city entirely +modern. + +The history of the Bastile has been published in many volumes, some of +which I have read. It was the convenient dark closet of the French +nursery. Whoever gave trouble to the Government or to any of its +creatures was liable to be set away here without trial or resource. One +prisoner confined in it escaped by patiently unravelling his shirts and +drawers of silk, and twisting them into a thick cord, by means of which +he reached the moat, and so passed beyond bounds. + +An historical personage, whose name is unknown, passed many years in +this sad place, wearing an iron mask, which no official ever saw +removed. He is supposed by some to have been a twin brother of the King, +Louis XIV.; so we see that, although it might seem a piece of good +fortune to be born so near the crown, it might also prove to be the +greatest of misfortunes. Think what must have been the life of that +captive--how blank, weary, and indignant! + +When the Bastile was destroyed, a prisoner was found who had suffered so +severely from the cold and damp of its dungeons that his lips had split +completely open, leaving his teeth exposed. Carlyle describes the +commandant of the fortress carried along in the hands of an infuriated +mob, crying out with piteous supplication: "O friends, kill me quick!" +The fury was indeed natural, but better resource against tyranny had +been the calm, strong will and deliberate judgment. It is little to kill +the tyrant and destroy his tools. We must study to find out what +qualities in the ruler and the ruled make tyranny possible, and then +defeat it, once and forever. + +The hospital of the _Invalides_ was built by Louis XIV., as a refuge for +disabled soldiers. This large edifice forms a hollow square, and is +famous for its dome,--one of the four real domes of the world, the +others being the dome of St. Sophia, in Constantinople; that of St. +Peter's, in Rome; and the grand dome of our own Capitol, in Washington. + +I have paid several visits to this interesting establishment, with long +intervals between. When I first saw it, fifty years ago, there were many +of Napoleon's old soldiers within its walls. On one occasion, one of +these old men showed us with some pride the toy fortifications which he +had built, guarded by toy soldiers. "There is the bridge of Lodi," he +said, and pointing to a little wooden figure, "there stands the +Emperor." At this time, the remains of the first Napoleon slumbered in +St. Helena. + +I saw the monument complete in 1867. It had then been open long to the +public. The marble floor and steps around the tomb of the first Napoleon +were literally carpeted with wreaths and garlands. The brothers of the +great man lay around him, in sarcophagi of costliest marble, their names +recorded not as Bonapartes, but as Napoleons. A dreary echo may have +penetrated even to these dead ears in 1870, when the column of the Place +Vendome fell, with the well-known statue for which it was only a +pedestal, and when the third Napoleon took his flight, repudiated and +detested. + +But to return. In 1851 I again saw Paris. The _coup d'tat_ had not +then fallen. Louis Napoleon was still President, and already unpopular. +Murmurs were heard of his inevitable defeat in the election which was +already in men's minds. Louis Philippe was an exile in Scotland. While I +was yet in Paris, the ex-King died; but the announcement produced little +or no sensation in his ancient capital. + +A process was then going on of substituting asphaltum pavements for the +broad, flat paving-stones which had proved so available in former +barricades. The President, perhaps, had coming exigencies in view. The +people looked on in rather sullen astonishment. Not long after this, I +found myself at Versailles on a day set apart for a visit from the +President and his suite. The great fountains were advertised to play in +honor of the occasion. From hall to hall of the immense palace we +followed, at a self-respecting distance, the sober _cortge_ of the +President. A middle-sized, middle-aged man, he appeared to us. + +The tail of this comet was not then visible, and the star itself +exhibited but moderate dimensions. The corrupting influence of +absolutism had not yet penetrated the tissues of popular life. The +theatres were still loyal to decency and good taste. Manners and dress +were modest; intemperance was rarely seen. + +A different Paris I saw in 1867. The dragon's teeth had been sown and +were ripening. The things which were Csar's had made little account of +the things which were God's. A blight had fallen upon men and women. The +generation seemed to have at once less self-respect and less politeness +than those which I had formerly known. The city had been greatly +modernized, perhaps embellished, but much of its historic interest had +disappeared. The theatres were licentious. Friends said: "Go, but do not +take your daughters." The drivers of public carriages were often +intoxicated. + +The great Exposition of that year had drawn together an immense crowd +from all parts of the world. Among its marvels, my recollection dwells +most upon the gallery of French paintings, in which I stood more than +once before a full-length portrait of the then Emperor. I looked into +the face which seemed to say: "I have succeeded. What has any one to say +about it?" And I pondered the slow movements of that heavenly Justice +whose infallible decrees are not to be evaded. In this same gallery was +that sitting statue of the dying Napoleon which has since become so +familiar to the world of art. Crowns of immortelles always lay at the +feet of this statue. And I, in my mind, compared the statue and the +picture,--the great failure and the great success. But in Bismarck's +mind, even then, the despoiling of France was predetermined. + +What lessons shall we learn from this imperfect sketch of Paris? What +other city has figured so largely in literature? None that I know of, +not even Rome and Athens. The young French writers of our time make a +sketch of some corner of Parisian life, and it becomes a novel. + +French history in modern times is largely the history of Paris. The +modern saying has been that Paris was France. But we shall say: It is +not. Had Paris given a truer representation to France, she might have +avoided many long agonies and acute crises. + +It is because Paris has forced her representation upon France that +Absolutism and Intelligence, the two deadly foes, have fought out their +fiercest battles on the genial soil which seems never to have been +allowed to bear its noblest fruits. The tendency to centralization, with +which the French have been so justly reproached, may or may not be +inveterate in them as a people. If it is so, the tendency of modern +times, which is mostly in the contrary direction, would lessen the +social and political importance of France as surely, if not as swiftly, +as Bismarck's mulcting and mutilation. + +The organizations which result from centralization are naturally +despotic and, in so far, demoralizing. Individuals, having no recognized +representation, and being debarred the natural resource of legitimate +association, show their devotion to progress and their zeal for +improvement either in passionate and melancholy appeals or in secret +manoeuvrings. The tendency of these methods is to chronic fear on the +one hand and disaffection on the other, and to deep conspiracies and +sudden seditions which astonish the world, but which have in them +nothing astonishing for the student of human nature. + +So those who love France should implore her to lay aside her quick +susceptibilities and irritable enthusiasms, and to study out the secret +of her own shortcomings. How is it that one of the most intelligent +nations of the world was, twenty years ago, one of the least instructed? +How is it that a warm-blooded, affectionate race generates such +atrocious social heartlessness? How was it that the nation which was the +apostle of freedom in 1848 kept Rome for twenty years in bondage? How is +it that the Jesuit, after long exile, has been reenstalled in its midst +with prestige and power? How is it, in so brilliant and liberal a +society, that the successors of Henri IV. and Sully are yet to be found? + +Perhaps the reason for some of these things lay in the treason of this +same Henri IV. He was a Protestant at heart, and put on the Catholic +cloak in order to wear the crown. "The kingdom of France," said he, or +one of his admirers, "is well worth hearing a mass or two." "The kingdom +of the world," said Christ, "is a small thing for a man to gain in +exchange for the kingdom of his own honest soul." Henri IV. made this +bad bargain for himself and for France. He did it, doubtless, in view of +the good his reign might bring to the distracted country. But he had +better have given her the example, sole and illustrious, of the most +brilliant man of the time putting by its most brilliant temptation, and +taking his seat low on the ground with those whose hard-earned glory it +is to perish for conscience's sake. + +But the great King is dead, long since, and his true legacy--his +wonderful scheme of European liberation and pacification--has only been +represented by a little newspaper, edited in Paris, but published in +Geneva, and called _The United States of Europe_. + +So our word to France is: Try to solve the problem of modern Europe with +the great word which Henri IV. said, in a whisper, to his other self, +the minister Sully. Learn that social forces are balanced first by being +allowed to exist. Mutilation is useless in a world in which God +continues to be the Creator. Every babe that he sends into the world +brings with it a protest against absolutism. The babe, the nation, may +be robbed of its birthright; but God sends the protest still. And France +did terrible wrong to the protest of her own humanity when she suffered +her Protestant right hand to be cut off, and a great part of her most +valuable population to submit to the alternative of exile or apostasy. + +So mad an act as this does not stand on the record of modern times. The +apostate has no spiritual country; the exile has no geographical +country. The men who are faithful to their religious convictions are +faithful to their patriotic duties. What a premium was set upon +falsehood, what a price upon faith, when all who held the supremacy of +conscience a higher fact than the supremacy of Rome were told to +renounce this confession or to depart! + + * * * * * + +If Paris gives to our mind some of the most brilliant pictures +imaginable, she also gives us some of the most dismal. While her +drawing-rooms were light and elegant, her streets were dark and wicked. +Among her hungry and ignorant populace, Crime planted its bitter seeds +and ripened its bloody crop. Police annals show us that Eugne Sue has +not exaggerated the truth in his portraits of the vicious population of +the great city. London has its hideous dens of vice, but Paris has, too, +its wicked institutions. + +Its greatest offences, upon which I can only touch, regard the relations +between men and women. Its police regulations bearing upon this point +are dishonoring to any Christian community. Its social tone in this +respect is scarcely better. Men who have the dress and appearance of +gentlemen will show great insolence to a lady who dares to walk alone, +however modestly. Marriage is still a matter of bargain and interest, +and the modes of conduct which set its obligations at naught are more +open and recognized here than elsewhere. The city would seem, indeed, to +be the great market for that host of elegant rebels against virtue who +are willing to be admired without being respected, and who, with +splendid clothes and poor and mean characteristics, are technically +called the _demi-monde_, the half-world of Paris. + +The corruption of young men and young women which this state of things +at once recognizes and fosters is such as no state can endure without +grievous loss of its manhood and womanhood. The Turks knew their power +when they could compel from the Greeks the tribute of their children, to +be trained as Turks, not as Christians. Must not the Spirit of evil in +like manner exult at his hold upon the French nation, when it allows him +to enslave its youth so largely, consoling itself for the same with a +shrug at the inevitable nature of human folly, or with some witty saying +which will be at once acknowledgment of and excuse for what cannot be +justified? + +Gambling has been one of the crying vices of the French metropolis, and +the "hells" of Paris were familiarly spoken of in my youth. These were +the gambling-houses, in that day among the most brilliant and ruinous of +their kind. Government has since then interfered to abolish them. Still, +I suppose that much money is lost and won at play in Paris. From this +and other irregularities, many suicides result. One sees in numerous +places in Paris, particularly near the river, placards announcing "help +to the drowned and asphyxiated," a plunge into the Seine, and a sitting +with a pan of charcoal being the favorite methods of self-destruction. +All have heard of the Morgue, a building in which, every day, the +lifeless bodies found in the river are exposed upon marble slabs, in +order that the friends of the dead--if they have any--may recognize and +claim them. I believe that this sad place is rarely without its +appropriate occupants. + + * * * * * + +Through the kindness of our minister, I was able, some years since, to +attend more than one session of the French Parliament. This body, like +our own Congress, consists of two houses. An outsider does not see any +difference of demeanor between these two. An American visiting either +the French Senate or the Chamber of Deputies will be surprised at the +noise and excitement which prevail. The presiding officer agitates his +bell again and again, to no purpose. He constantly cries, in a piteous +tone: "Gentlemen, a little silence, if you please." In the Senate, one +of the ushers with great pride pointed out to me Victor Hugo in his +seat. + +I have seen this venerable man of letters several times,--once in his +own house, and once at a congress of literary people in Paris, where, as +president of the congress, he made the opening address. This he read +from a manuscript, in a sonorous voice, and with much dignity of manner. +He was heard with great interest, and was interrupted by frequent +applause. + +A number of invitations were given for this first meeting of the +literary congress, which was held in one of the largest theatres of the +city. I had been fortunate enough to receive one of these cards, but +upon seeking for admission to the subsequent sittings of the congress, I +was told that no ladies were admitted to them. So you see that Lucy +Stone's favorite assertion that "women are people" does not hold good +everywhere. + +An esteemed Parisian friend had offered me an introduction to Victor +Hugo, and the great man had signified his willingness to receive a visit +from me. On the evening appointed for this visit, I called at his house, +accompanied by my daughter. We were first shown into an anteroom, and +presently into a small drawing-room, of which the walls and furniture +were covered with a striped satin material, in whose colors red +predominated. The venerable viscount kissed my hand and that of my +young companion with the courtesy belonging to other times than the +present. He was of middle height, reasonably stout. His eyes were dark +and expressive, and his hair and beard snow-white. Several guests were +present,--among others, the widow of one of his sons, recently married +to a second husband. + +Victor Hugo seated himself alone upon a sofa, and talked to no one. +While the rest of the company kept up a desultory conversation, a +servant announced M. Louis Blanc, and our expectations were raised only +to be immediately lowered, for at this announcement Victor Hugo arose +and withdrew into another room, from which we were able to hear the two +voices in earnest conversation, but from which neither gentleman +appeared. Was not this disappointment like one of those dreams in which, +just as you are about to attain some object of intense desire, the power +of sleep deserts you, and you awake to life's plain prose? + + * * * * * + +The shops of Paris are wonderfully well mounted and well served. The +display in the windows is not so large in proportion to the bulk of +merchandise as it is apt to be with us. Still, these windows do unfold a +catalogue of temptations longer than that of Don Giovanni's sins. + +Among them all, the jewellers' shops attract most. The love of human +beings for jewelry is a feature almost universal. The savage will give +land for beads. The women of Christendom will do the same thing. I have +seen fine displays of this kind in London, Rome, and Geneva. But in +Paris, these exhibits seem to characterize a certain vivid passion for +adornment, which is kindled and kept alive in the minds of French women, +and is by them communicated to the feminine world at large. + +The French woman of condition wears nothing which can be called _outr_. +She loves costly attire, but her taste, and that of her costumer, are +perfect. She wears the most delicate and harmonious shades, and the most +graceful forms. She never caricatures the fashion by exaggerating it. +English women of the same social position are more inclined to what is +tawdry, and have surely a less perfect sense of color and adaptation. + +Parisians are very homesick people when obliged to forsake their +capital. Madame de Stal, in full view of the beautiful lake of Geneva, +said that she would much prefer a view of the gutter in the Rue de Bac, +which in her day had not the attractions of the Bon March emporium, so +powerful to-day. + + * * * * * + +I should deserve ill of my subject if I failed to say that the great +issues of progress are to-day dearly and soberly held to by the +intelligence of the French people, and the good faith of their +representatives. In the history of the present republic, the solid +interests of the nation have slowly and steadfastly gained ground. + +The efforts which forward these seem to me to culminate in the measures +which are intended at once to establish popular education and to defend +it from ecclesiastical interference. The craze for military glory is +also yielding before the march of civilization, and the ambitions which +build up society are everywhere gaining upon the passions which destroy +it. + +In the last forty-five years, the social relations of France to the +civilized world have undergone much alteration. The magnificent +traditions of ancient royalty have become entirely things of the past. +The genius of the first Napoleon has passed out of people's minds. The +social prestige of France is no longer appealed to, no longer felt. + +We read French novels, because French novelists have an admirable style +of narrating, but we no longer go to them for powerful ideals of life +and character. The modern world has outgrown the Gallic theories of sex. +We are tired of hearing about the women whose merit consists in their +loving everything better than their husbands. In this light artillery of +fashion and fiction, France no longer holds the place which was hers of +old. + +In losing these advantages, she has, I think, gained better things. The +struggle of the French people to establish and maintain a republic in +the face of and despite monarchical Europe is a heroic one, worthy of +all esteem and sympathy. In science, France has never lost her eminence. +In serious literature, in the practical philosophy of history, in +criticism of the highest order, the French are still masters in their +own way. Notwithstanding their evil legislation regarding women, their +medical authorities have been most generous to our women students of +medicine. Many of these have crossed the Atlantic to seek in France that +clinical study and observation from which they have been in great +measure debarred in our own country. + +There is still much bigotry and intolerance, much shallow scepticism and +false philosophy; but there is also, underneath all this, the germ of +great and generous qualities which place the nation high in the scale of +humanity. + +I should be glad to bind together these scattered statements into some +great, instructive lesson for France and for ourselves. Perhaps the best +thing that I can do in this direction will be to suggest to Americans +the careful study of French history and of French character. The great +divisions of the world to-day are invaded by travel, and the iron horse +carries civilization far and wide. Many of those who go abroad may, +however, be found to have less understanding regarding foreign +countries than those who have learned all that may be learned concerning +them from history and literature. To many Americans, Paris is little +more than the place of shops and of fashions. I have been mortified +sometimes at the familiarity which our travellers show with all that may +be bought and sold on the other side of the ocean, combined with an +arrant and arrogant ignorance concerning the French people and the +country in which they live. + +Even to the most careful observer, the French are not easy to be +understood. The most opposite statements may be made about them. Some +call them noble; others, ignoble. To some, they appear turbulent and +ferocious; to others, slavish and cowardly. Great thinkers do not judge +them in this offhand way, and from such we may learn to make allowances +for the fact that monarchic and aristocratic rule create and foster +great inequalities of character and intelligence among the nations in +which they prevail. Limitations of mind and of opinion are inherited +from generations which have been dwarfed by political and spiritual +despotism; and in such countries, the success of liberal institutions, +even if emphatically assured, is but slowly achieved and established. + +A last word of mine shall commend this Paris to those who are yet to +visit it. Let me pray such as may have this experience not to suppose +that they have read the wonderful riddle of this city's life when they +shall have seen a few of its shops, palaces, and picture-galleries. If +they wish to understand what the French people are, and why they are +what they are, they will have to study history, politics, and human +nature pretty deeply. + +If they wish to have an idea of what the French may become, they must +keep their faith in all that America finds precious and invaluable,--in +free institutions, in popular education, and, above all, in the heart of +the people. Never let them believe that while freedom ennobles the +Anglo-Saxon, it brutalizes the Gaul. Despotism brutalizes for long +centuries, and freedom cannot ennoble in a moment. But give it time and +room, and it will ennoble. And let Americans who go to Paris remember +that they should there represent republican virtue and intelligence. + +How far this is from being the case some of us may know, and others +guess. Americans who visit Paris very generally relax their rules of +decorum and indulge in practices which they would not venture to +introduce at home. Hence they are looked upon with some disfavor by the +more serious part of the French people, while the frivolous ridicule +them at will. But I could wish that, in visiting a nation to whom we +Americans owe so much, we could think of something besides our own +amusement and the buying of pretty things to adorn our persons and our +houses. I could wish that we might visit schools, prisons, Protestant +churches, and hear something of the charities and reforms of the place, +and of what the best thinkers are doing and saying. I blush to think of +the gold which Americans squander in Paris, and of the bales of +merchandise of all sorts which we carry away. Far better would it be if +we made friends with the best people, exchanging with them our best +thought and experience, helping and being helped by them in the good +works which redeem the world. Better than the full trunk and empty +purse, which usually mark a return from Paris, will be a full heart and +a hand clasping across the water another hand, pure and resolute as +itself,--the hand of progress, the hand of order, the hand of brotherly +kindness and charity. + + + + +Greece Revisited + + +I SPEAK of a country to which all civilized countries are deeply +indebted. + +The common speech of Europe and America shows this. In whatever way the +languages of the western world have been woven and got together, they +all show here and there some golden gleam which carries us back to the +Hellenic tongue. Philosophy, science, and common thought alike borrow +their phraseology from this ancient source. + +I need scarcely say by what a direct descent all arts may claim to have +been recreated by Greek genius, nor can I exaggerate the importance of +the Greek poets, philosophers, and historians in the history of +literature. Rules of correct thinking and writing, the nice balance of +rhetoric, the methods of oratory, the notions of polity, of the +correlations of social and national interests,--in all of these +departments the Greeks may claim to have been our masters, and may call +us their slow and blundering pupils. + +A wide interval lies between these glories and the Greece of to-day. +Nations, like individuals, have their period of growth and decay, their +limit of life, which human devices seem unable to prolong. But while +systems of government and social organization change, race perseveres. +The Greeks, like the Hebrews, when scattered and powerless at home, have +been potent abroad. Deprived for centuries of political and national +existence, the spirit of their immortal literature, the power of their +subtle and ingenious mind, have leavened and fashioned the mind, not of +Europe only, but of the thinking world. + +Let us recall the briefest outline of the story. The states of ancient +Greece, always divided among themselves, in time invited the protection +of the Roman Empire, hoping thereby to attain peace and tranquillity. +Rome of to-day shows how her officials of old plundered the temples and +galleries of the Greeks, while her literary men admired and imitated the +Hellenic authors. + +At a later day, the beauty of the Orient seduced the stern heart of +Roman patriotism. A second Rome was built on the shores of the +Bosphorus,--a city whose beauty of position excelled even the dignity of +the seven hills. Greek and Roman, eastern and western, became mingled +and blent in a confusion with which the most patient scholar finds it +difficult to deal. Then came a political division,--eastern and western +empires, eastern and western churches, the Bishop of Rome and the +Patriarch of Constantinople. Other great changes follow. The western +empire crumbles, takes form again under Charlemagne, finally +disappears. The eastern empire follows it. The Turk plants his standard +on the shores of the Bosphorus. The sacred city falls into his hands, +without contradiction, so far as Europe is concerned. The veil of a dark +and bloody barbarism hides the monuments of a most precious +civilization. It is the age of blood. The nations of Western Europe have +still the faith and the attributes of bandits. The Turkish ataghan is +stronger than the Greek pen and chisel. The new race has a military +power of which the old could only faintly dream. + +And so the last Constantine falls, and Mahmoud sweeps from earth the +traces of his reign. In the old Church of St. Sophia, now the Mosque of +Omar, men show to-day, far up on one of the columns, the impress of the +conqueror's bloody hand, which could only strike so high because the +floor beneath was piled fathom-deep with Christian corpses. + +Another period follows. The Turk establishes himself in his new domain, +and employs the Greek to subjugate the Greek. Upon each Greek family the +tribute of a male child is levied; and this child is bred up in Turkish +ways, and taught to turn his weapon against the bosom of his mother +country. From these babes of Christian descent was formed the corps of +the Janissaries, a force so dangerous and deadly that the representative +of Turkish rule was forced at a later day to plan and accomplish its +destruction. + +The name "Greek" in this time no longer suggested a nation. I myself, in +my childhood, knew a young Greek, escaped from the massacres of Scio, +who told me that when, having learned English, he heard himself spoken +of as "the Greek," his first thought was that those who so spoke of him +were waiting to cut his throat. + +Now follows another epoch. Western Europe is busied in getting a little +civilization. Baptized mostly by force, _vi et armis_, she has still to +be Christianized: she has America to discover and to settle. She has to +go to school to the ghosts of Greece and Arabia, in order to have a +grammar and to learn arithmetic. There are some wars of religion, +endless wars for territorial aggrandizement. Europe is still a congress +of the beasts,--lion, tiger, boar, rhinoceros, all snared together by +the tortuous serpent of diplomacy. + +I pause, for out of this dark time came your existence and mine. A small +barque crosses the sea; a canoe steals toward the issue of a mighty +river. Such civilization as Europe has plants itself out in a new +country, in a virgin soil; and in the new domain are laid the +foundations of an empire whose greatness is destined to reside in her +peaceful and beneficent offices. Her task it shall be to feed the +starving emigrant, to give land and free citizenship to those +dispossessed of both by the greed of the old feudal systems. + +In the fulness of this young nation's life, a cry arose from that +ancient mother of arts and sciences. The Greek had arisen from his long +sleep, had become awake to the fact that civilization is more potent +than barbarism. Strong in this faith, Greece had closed in a death +struggle with the assassin of her national life. Through the enthusiasm +of individuals, not through the policy of governments, the desperate, +heroic effort received aid. From the night of ages, from the sea of +blood, Greece arose, shorn of her fair proportions, pointing to her +ruined temples, her mutilated statues, her dishonored graves. + +Americans may be thankful that this strange resurrection was not beheld +by our fathers with indifference. From their plenty, a duteous tribute +more than once went forth to feed and succor the country to which all +owe so much. And so an American, to-day, can look upon the Acropolis +without a blush--though scarcely without a tear. + +Contenting myself with this brief retrospect, I must turn from the page +of history to the record of individual experience. + +My first visit to Athens was in the year 1867. The Cretans were at this +time engaged in an energetic struggle for their freedom, and my husband +was the bearer of certain funds which he and others had collected in +America for the relief of the destitute families of the insurgents. A +part of this money was employed in sending provisions to the Island of +Crete, where the women and children had taken refuge in the fortresses +of the mountains, subject to great privations, and in danger of absolute +starvation. + +With the remainder of the fund, schools were endowed in Athens for the +children of the Cretan refugees. My husband's efforts were seconded by +an able Greek committee; and when, at the close of his labors, he turned +his face homeward, he was followed by the prayers and thanksgivings of +those whose miseries he had been enabled to relieve. + +Nearly ten years later than the time just spoken of, I again threaded my +way between the isles of Greece and arrived at the Pirus, the ancient +port of Athens. A railway now connects these two points; but on this +occasion, we did not avail ourselves of it, preferring to take a +carriage for the short distance. + +In approaching Athens for the second time, my first surprise was to find +that it had grown to nearly double the size which I remembered ten years +before. The cleanly, thrifty, and cheerful aspect of the city presented +the greatest contrast to the squalor and filth of Constantinople, which +I had just left. The perfect blue of the heavens brought out in fine +effect the white marble of the new buildings, some of which are costly +and even magnificent. Yet there, in full sight, towering above +everything else, stood the unattainable beauty, the unequalled, +unrivalled Parthenon. + +I made several pilgrimages to the Acropolis, eager to revive my +recollection respecting the design and history of its various monuments. +I listened again and again to the statements of well-read archologists +concerning the uses of the temples, the positions of the statues and +bas-reliefs, the hundred gates, and the triumphal road which led up to +the height crowned with glories. + +But while I gave ear to what is more easily forgotten than +remembered,--the story of the long-vanished past,--my eyes received the +impression of a beauty that cannot perish. I did not say to the +Parthenon: Thou _wert_, but, Thou _art_ so beautiful, in thy perfect +proportion, in thy fine workmanship! + +What silver chisel turned the tender leaves of this marble foliage? Here +is a little bit, a yard or so, which has escaped the gnawing of the +elements, lying turned away from the course of the winds and rains! No +king of to-day, in building his palace, can order such a piece of work. +Artist he can find none to equal it. And I am proud to say that no king +nor millionaire to-day can buy this, or any other fragment belonging to +this sacred spot. What England took before Greece became a power again, +she may keep, because the British Museum is a treasure-house for the +world. But she will never repeat the theft: she is too wise to-day. +Christendom is too wise, and the Greeks have learned the value of what +they still possess. + +At the Acropolis, the theatre of Bacchus had been excavated a short time +before my previous visit. Near it they have now brought to light the +temple of sculapius. This temple, with the theatre of Bacchus and that +of Herodius Atticus, occupies the base of the Acropolis, on the side +that looks toward the sea. + +As one stands in the light of the perfect sky, discerning in the +distance that perfect sea, something of the cheerfulness of the ancient +Greeks makes itself felt, seems to pervade the landscape. Descending to +the theatre of Bacchus, the visitor may call up in his mind the vision +of the high feast of mirth and hilarity. Here was the stage; here are, +still entire, the marble seats occupied by the priests and other high +dignitaries, with one or two interesting bas-reliefs of the god. + +When I visited Greece in 1867, I found no proper museum containing the +precious fragments and works of art still left to the much-plundered +country. Some of these were preserved in the Theseion, a fine temple +well known to many by engravings. They were, however, very ill-arranged, +and could not be seen with comfort. I now found all my old favorites and +many others enshrined in the three museums which had been added to the +city during my absence. + +One of them is called the Barbakion. It contains, among other things, a +number of very ancient vases, on one of which the soul is represented by +a female figure with wings. Among these vases is a series relating to +family events, one showing a funeral, one a nativity, while two others +commemorate a bridal occasion. In one of these last, the bride sits +holding Eros in her arms, while her attendants present the wedding +gifts; in the other, moves the bridal procession, accompanied by music. +Here are preserved many small figures in clay, commonly spoken of in +Greece as the Tanagra dolls. A fine collection of these has been given +to the Boston Art Museum by a well-known patron of all arts, the late +Thomas G. Appleton. Here we saw a cremating pot of bronze, containing +the charred remains of a human body. I afterwards saw--at the Keramika, +an ancient cemetery--the stone vase from which this pot was taken. + +Among the objects shown at this museum was a beautiful set of gold +jewelry found in the cemetery just mentioned. It consisted of armlets, +bracelets, ear-rings, and a number of finger-rings, among which was one +of the coiled serpents so much in vogue to-day. I found here some +curious flat-bottomed pitchers, with a cocked-hat cover nicely fitted +on. This Greek device may have supplied the pattern for the first cocked +hat,--Dr. Holmes has told us about the last. + +But nothing in this collection impressed me more than did an ancient +mask cast from a dead face. This mask had lately been made to serve as a +matrix; and a plaster cast, newly taken from it, gave us clearly the +features and expression of the countenance, which was removed from us by +ons of time. + +A second museum is that built at the Acropolis, which contains many +fragments of sculpture, among which I recognized a fine bas-relief +representing three women carrying water-jars, and a small figure of +wingless Victory, both of which I had seen twelve years before, exposed +to the elements. + +But the principal museum of the city, a fine building of dazzling white +marble, is the patriotic gift of a wealthy Greek, who devoted to this +object a great part of his large fortune. In this building are arranged +a number of the ancient treasures brought to light through the +persevering labors of Dr. and Mrs. Schliemann. As the doctor has +published a work giving a detailed account of these articles, I will +mention only a few of them. + +Very curious in form are the gold cups found in the treasury of +Agamemnon. They are shaped a little like a flat champagne glass, but do +not expand at the base, standing somewhat insecurely upon the +termination of their stems. Here, too, are masks of thin beaten gold, +which have been laid upon the faces of the dead. Rings, ear-rings, +brooches, and necklaces there are in great variety; among the first, two +gold signet rings of marked beauty. I remember, also, several sets of +ornaments, resembling buttons, in gold and enamel. + +From the main building, we passed into a fine gallery filled with +sculptures, many of which are monumental in character. I will here +introduce two pages from my diary, written almost on the spot:-- + + Nothing that I have seen in Athens or elsewhere impresses me like + the Greek marbles which I saw yesterday in the museum, most of + which have been found and gathered since my visit in 1867. A single + monumental slab had then been excavated, which, with the help of + Pausanias, identified the site of the ancient Keramika, a place of + burial. Here have been found many tombs adorned with bas-reliefs, + with a number of vases and several statues. How fortunate has been + the concealment of these works of art until our time, by which, + escaping Roman rapacity and Turkish barbarism, they have survived + the wreck of ages, to show us, to-day, the spirit of family life + among the ancient Greeks! Italy herself possesses no Greek relics + equal in this respect to those which I contemplated yesterday. For + any student of art or of history, it is worth crossing the ocean + and encountering all fatigues to read this imperishable record of + human sentiment and relation; for while the works of ancient art + already familiar to the public show us the artistic power and the + sense of beauty with which this people were so marvellously + endowed, these marbles make evident the feelings with which they + regarded their dead. + + Perhaps the first lesson one draws from their contemplation is the + eternity, so to speak, of the family affections. No words nor work + have ever portrayed a regard more tender than is shown in these + family groups, in which the person about to depart is represented + in a sitting posture, while his nearest friends or relatives stand + near, expressing in their countenances and action the sorrow and + pathos of the final separation. Here an aged father gives the last + blessing to the son who survives and mourns him. Here a dying + mother reclines, surrounded by a group of friends, one of whom + bears in her arms the infant whose birth, presumably, cost the + mother her life. Two other slabs represent partings between a + mother and her child. In one of these the young daughter holds to + her bosom a dove, in token of the innocence of her tender age. In + the other, the mother is bending over the daughter with a sweet, + sad seriousness. Other groups show the parting of husband and wife, + friend from friend; and I now recall one of these in which the + expression of the clasped hands of two individuals excels in + tenderness anything that I have ever seen in paint or marble. The + Greeks, usually so reserved in their portrayal of nature, seem in + these instances to have laid aside the calm cloak of restraint + which elsewhere enwrapped them, in order to give permanent + expression to the tender and beautiful associations which hallow + death. + + TWO DRAMAS + + In the Bacchus theatre, + With the wreck of countless years, + The thought of the ancient jollity + Moved me almost to tears. + + Bacchus, the god who brightens life + With sudden, rosy gleam, + Lighting the hoary face of Age + With Youth's surpassing dream, + + The tide that swells the human heart + With inspiration high, + Ebbing and sinking at sunset fall + To dim eternity. + + * * * * * + + In the halls where treasured lie + The monumental stones + That stood where men no longer leave + The mockery of their bones, + + Why did I smile at the marble griefs + Who wept for the bygone joy? + Within that sorrow dwells a good + That Time can ne'er destroy. + + Th' immortal depths of sympathy + All measurements transcend, + And in man's living marble seal + The love he bears his friend. + +It would take me long to tell how much Athens has been enriched by the +munificence of her wealthy merchants, whose shrewdness and skill in +trade are known all over the world. Of some of these, dying abroad, the +words may well be quoted: "_Moriens reminiscitur Argos_," as they have +bequeathed for the benefit of their beloved city the sums of money +which have a permanent representation in the public buildings I have +mentioned, and many others. Better still than this, a number of +individuals of this class have returned to Greece, to end their days +beneath their native skies, and the social resources of the metropolis +are enlarged by their presence. + +This leads us to what may interest many more than statements concerning +buildings and antiquities,--the social aspect of Athens. + +The court and high society, or what is called such, asks our first +attention. The royal palace, a very fine one, was built by King Otho. +The present King and Queen are very simple in their tastes. One meets +them walking among the ruins and elsewhere in plain dress, with no other +escort than a large dog. The visit which I now describe took place in +Carnival time, and we heard, on our arrival, of a court ball, for which +we soon received cards. We were admonished by the proper parties to come +to the palace before nine o'clock, in order that we might be in the +ball-room before the entrance of the King and Queen. We repaired thither +accordingly, and, passing through a hall lined with officials and +servants in livery, ascended the grand staircase, and were soon in a +very elegant ball-room, well filled with a creditable _beau monde_. The +servants of the palace all wore Palikari costume,--the white skirt and +full-sleeved shirt, with embroidered vest and leggings. The ladies +present were attired with a due regard for Paris in general, and for +Worth in particular. The gentlemen were either in uniform, or in that +inexpressibly sleek and mournful costume which is called "evening +dress." + +We were presently introduced to the maids of honor, one of whom bore the +historic name of Kolokotronis. They were dressed in white, and wore +badges on which the crown and the King's initial letter were wrought in +small brilliants. Many of the ladies displayed beautiful diamonds. + +Presently a hush fell on the rapidly talking assembly. People ranged +themselves in a large circle, and the sovereigns entered. The Queen wore +a dress of white tulle embroidered with red over white silk, and a +garland of flowers in which the same color predominated. Her corsage was +adorned with knots of diamonds and rubies, and she wore a complete +_parure_ of the same costly stones. Their majesties made the round of +the circle. We, as strangers, were at once presented to the Queen, who +with great affability said to me: "I hear that you have been in Egypt, +and that your daughter ascended the great Pyramid." I made as low a +courtesy as was consistent with my dignity as president of a number of +clubs. One or two further remarks were interchanged, and the lovely, +gracious blonde moved on. + +When the presentations and salutations were over, the royal pair +proceeded to open the ball, having each some high and mighty partner +for the first _contredanse_. The Queen is very fond of dancing, and is +happier than some other queens in being allowed to waltz to her heart's +content. + +There were at the ball three of our fellow-countrymen who could dance. +Two of them wore the uniform of our navy, and had kept it very fresh and +brilliant. These Terpsichorean gentlemen were matched by three ladies +well versed in the tactics of the German. Suddenly a swanlike, circling +movement began to distinguish itself from the quick, hopping, German +waltz which prevails everywhere in Europe. People looked on with +surprise, which soon brightened into admiration. And if any one had said +to me: "What is that, mother?" I should have replied: "The Boston, my +child." + +Lest the Queen's familiarity with my movements should be thought to +imply some previous acquaintance between us, I must venture a few words +of explanation. + +In the first place, I must mention a friend, Mr. Paraskevades, who had +been very helpful to Dr. Howe and myself on the occasion of our visit to +Athens in 1867. This gentleman was one of the first to greet my daughter +and myself, when she, for the first, and I, for the second time, arrived +in Athens. It was from him that we heard of the court ball just +mentioned, and through him that we received the cards enabling us to +attend it. I had given Mr. Paraskevades a copy of the _Woman's +Journal_, published in Boston, containing a letter of mine describing a +recent visit to Cairo and the Pyramids. Our friend called at the palace +to speak of my presence in Athens to the proper authorities, and by +chance encountered the Queen as she was stepping into her carriage for a +drive. He told her that the widow and daughter of Dr. Howe would attend +the evening's ball. She asked what he held in his hand. "A paper, +printed in Boston, containing a letter written by Mrs. Howe." "Lend it +to me," said the Queen. "I wish to read Mrs. Howe's letter." Thus it was +that the Queen was able to greet me with so pleasant a mark of interest. + +The King and Queen withdrew just before supper was announced, which was +very considerate on their part; for, as royal personages may not eat +with others, we could not have had our supper if they had not taken +theirs elsewhere. We were then escorted to the banquet hall, where were +spread a number of tables, at which the guests stood, and regaled +themselves with such customary viands as cold chicken, salad, +sandwiches, ices, and fruit. All of the usual wines were served in +profusion, with nice black coffee to keep people awake for the German, +or, as it is called in Europe, the _cotillon_. And presently we marched +back to the ball-room, and the sovereigns re-appeared. The _Germanites_ +took chairs, the chaperons kept their modest distance, and the thing +that hath no end began, the Queen making the first loop in the mazy +weaving of the dance. The next thing that I remember was, three o'clock +in the morning, a sleepy drive in a carriage, and the talk that you +always hear going home from a party. Now, I ask, was not this orthodox? + +This being the gay season of the year, we were present at various +festivities whose elegance would have done honor to London or Paris. I +particularly remember, among these, a fancy ball at the house of Mr. and +Mrs. Zyngros. Our hostess was a beautiful woman, and looked every inch a +queen, as she stood at the head of her stately marble stairway, in the +gold and crimson costume of Catherine de Medici. The ball-room was +thronged with Spanish gipsies, Elizabethan nobles, harlequins, Arcadian +shepherds, and Greek peasants. I may also mention another ball, at which +a band of maskers made their appearance, splendidly attired, and voluble +with the squeaking tone which usually accompanies a mask. The master and +mistress of the house were prepared for this interruption, which added +greatly to the gaiety of the occasion. + +I have given a little outline of these gay doings, in order that you may +know that the modern Athens is entitled to boast that she possesses all +the appliances of civilization. Now let me say a few words of things +more interesting to people of thoughtful minds. + +I remember with great pleasure an evening passed beneath the roof of Dr. +and Mrs. Schliemann. Well known as is Dr. Schliemann by reputation, it +is less generally known that his wife, a Greek woman, has had very much +to do with both his studies and the success of his excavations. She is +considered in Greece a woman of unusual culture, being well versed in +the ancient literature of her country. I was present once at a lecture +which she gave in London, before the Royal Historical Society. At the +close of the lecture, Lord Talbot de Malahide announced that Mrs. +Schliemann had been elected a member of the society. The Duke of Argyll +was present on this occasion, and among those who commented upon the +opinions advanced in the lecture was Mr. Gladstone. Mrs. Schliemann, +however, bears her honors very modestly, and is a charming hostess, +gracious and friendly, thoroughly liked and esteemed in this her native +country, and elsewhere. + +The _soire_ at Mrs. Schliemann's was merely a conventional reception, +with dancing to the music of a pianoforte. We were informed that our +hostess was suffering from the fatigues undergone in assisting her +husband's labors, and that the music and dancing were introduced to +spare her the strain of overmuch conversation. She was able, however, +to receive morning visitors on one day of every week, and I took +advantage of this opportunity to see her again. I spoke of her little +boy, a child of two years, who had been pointed out to me in the Park, +by my friend Paraskevades. He bore the grandiose name of Agamemnon. +Presently we heard the voice of a child below stairs, and Mrs. +Schliemann said: "That is my baby; he has just come in with his nurse." +I asked that we might see him, and the nurse brought him into the +drawing-room. At sight of us, he began to kick and scream. Wishing to +soothe him, I said: "Poor little Agamemnon!" Mrs. Schliemann rejoined: +"I say, nasty little Agamemnon!" + +Is it to be supposed that I entered and left Athens without uttering the +cabalistic word "club"? By no means. I found myself one day invited to +speak to a number of ladies, at a friend's house, upon a theme of my own +choosing; and this theme was, "The Advancement of Women as Promoted by +Association." My audience, numbering about forty, was the best that +could be gathered in Athens. I found there, as I have found elsewhere in +Europe, great need of the new life which association gives, but little +courage to take the first step in a new direction. I could only scratch +my furrow, drop my seed, and wait, like _Miss Flyte_, in "Bleak House," +for a result, if need be, "on the day of judgment." + +It is a delight to speak of a deeper furrow which was drawn, ten years +earlier, by an abler hand than mine, though several of us gave some help +in the work done at that time. I allude to the efforts made by my dear +husband in behalf of the suffering Cretans, when they were struggling +bravely for the freedom which Europe still denies them. Some of the +money raised by his earnest efforts, as I have already said, found its +way to the then desolate island, in the shape of provisions and clothing +for the wives and children of the combatants. Some of it remained in +Athens, and paid for the education of a whole generation of Cretan +children exiled from their homes, and rendered able, through the aid +thus afforded, to earn their own support. + +Some of the money, moreover, went to found an industrial establishment +in Athens, which has since been continued and enlarged by funds derived +from other sources. This establishment began with two or three looms, +the Cretan women being expert weavers, and the object being to enable +them to earn their bread in a strange city. And it now has at least a +dozen looms, and the Dorian mothers, stately and powerful, sit at them +all day long, weaving dainty silken webs, gossamer stuffs, strong cotton +fabrics, and serviceable carpets. + +In those days I saw Marathon for the first time, and learned the truth +of Lord Byron's lines:-- + + The mountains look on Marathon, + And Marathon looks on the sea. + +This expedition occupied the whole of a winter day. We started from the +hotel after early breakfast, and did not regain it until long after +dark. Our carriages were accompanied by an escort of dragoons, which the +Greek government supplies, not in view of any real danger from brigands, +but in order to afford strangers every possible security. A drive of +some three hours brought us to the spot. + +A level plain, between the mountains and the sea; a mound, raised at its +centre, marking the burial-place of those who fell in the famous battle; +a sea-beach, washed by blue waves, and basking in the golden Attic +sunlight--this is what we saw at Marathon. + +Here we gathered pebbles, and I preserved for some days a knot of +daisies growing in a grassy clod of earth. But my mind saw in Marathon +an earnest of the patriotic spirit which has lifted Greece from such +ruin as the Persians were never able to inflict upon her. Worthy +descendants of those ancient heroes were the patriots who fought, in our +own century, the war of Greek independence. I am glad to think that all +heroic deeds have a fatherhood of their own, whose line never becomes +extinct. + +Those who would institute a comparison between ancient and modern art +should first compare the office of art in ancient times with the +function assigned it in our own. + +The sculptures of classic Greece were primarily the embodiment of its +popular theology and the record of its patriotic heroism. They are not, +as we might think them, fancy-free. The marble gods of Hellas +characterize for us the _morale_ of that ancient community. They +expressed the religious conviction of the artist, and corresponded to +the faith of the multitude. If we recognize the freedom of imagination +in their conception, we also feel the reverence which guided the +sculptor in their execution. As Emerson has said:-- + + Himself from God he could not free. + +How necessary these marbles were to the devotion of the time, we may +infer from the complaint reported in one of Cicero's orations,--that a +certain Greek city had been so stripped of its marbles that its people +had no god left to pray to. + +In the city of the Csars, this Greek art became the minister of luxury. +The ethics of the Roman people chiefly concerned their relation to the +state, to which their church was in great measure subservient. The +statues stolen from the worship of the Greeks adorned the baths and +palaces of the Emperors. This we must think providential for us, since +it is in this way that they have escaped the barbarous destruction which +for ages swept over the whole of Greece, and to whose rude force, +column, monument, and statue were only raw material for the lime-kiln. + +Still more secondary is the position of sculpture in the civilization of +to-day. Here and there a monument or statue commemorates some great name +or some great event. But these are still outside the current of our +daily life. Marble is to us a gospel of death, and we grow less and less +fond of its cold abstraction. The glitter of _bric--brac_, bits of +color, an unexpected shimmer here and there--such are the favorite +aspects of art with us. + +In saying this, I remember that many beautiful works of art have been +purchased by wealthy Americans, and that a surprising number of our +people know what is worth purchasing in this line. And yet I think that +in the houses of these very people, art is rather the servant of luxury +than the embodiment of any strong and sincere affection. + +We cannot turn back the tide of progress. We cannot make our religion +sculpturesque and picturesque. God forbid that we should! But we can +look upon the sculptures of ancient Greece with reverent appreciation, +and behold in them a record of the nave and simple faith of a great +people. + +If we must speak thus of plastic art, what shall we say of the drama? + +Sit down with me before this palace of OEdipus, whose faade is the +only scenic aid brought to help the illusion of the play. See how the +whole secret and story of the hero's fate is wrought out before its +doors, which open upon his youthful strength and glory, and close upon +his desolate shame and blindness. Follow the majestic tread of the +verse, the perfect progress of the action, and learn the deep reverence +for the unseen powers which lifts and spiritualizes the agony of the +plot. + +Where shall we find a parallel to this in the drama of our day? The most +striking contrast to it will be furnished by what we call a "realistic" +play, which is a play devised upon the supposition that those who will +attend its representation are not possessed of any imagination, but must +be dazzled through their eyes and deafened through their ears, until the +fatigue of the senses shall take the place of intellectual pleasure. The +_dnouement_ will, no doubt, present, as it can, the familiar moral that +virtue is in the end rewarded, and vice punished. But such virtue! and +such vice! How shall we be sure which is which? + +During this visit, I had an interview which brought me face to face +with some of the Cretan chiefs, who were exiles in Athens at the time of +my visit, in consequence of their participation in the more recent +efforts of the Islanders to free themselves from the Turkish rule. + +I received, one day, official notice that a committee, appointed by a +number of the Cretan exiles, desired permission to wait upon me, with +the view of presenting an address which should recognize the efforts +made by Dr. Howe in behalf of their unfortunate country. In accordance +with this request, I named an hour on the following day, and at the +appointed time my guests made their appearance. The Cretan chiefs were +five in number. All of them, but one, were dressed in the picturesque +costume of their country. This one was Katzi Michlis, the youngest of +the party, and somewhat more like the world's people than the others. +Two of these were very old men, one of them numbering eighty-four years, +and bearing a calm and serene front, like one of Homer's heroes. This +was old Korakas, who had only laid down his arms within two years. The +chiefs were accompanied by several gentlemen, residents of Athens. One +of these, Mr. Rainieri, opened proceedings by a few remarks in French, +setting forth the object of the visit, and introducing the address of +the Cretan committee, which he read in their own tongue:-- + + MADAM,-- + + We, the undersigned, emigrants from Crete, who await in free Greece + the complete emancipation of our country, have learned with + pleasure the fact of your presence in Athens. We feel assured that + we shall faithfully interpret the sentiments of our + fellow-countrymen by saluting your return to this city, and by + assuring you, at the same time, that the remembrance of the + benefits conferred by your late illustrious husband is always + living in our hearts. When the sun of liberty shall arise upon the + Island of Crete, the Cretans will, no doubt, decree the erection of + a monument which will attest to succeeding generations the + gratitude of our country toward her noble benefactor. For the + moment, Madam, deign to accept the simple expression of our + sentiments, and our prayers for the prosperity of your family and + your nation, to which we and our children shall ever be bound by + the ties of gratitude. + +The substance of my reply to Mr. Rainieri was as follows:-- + + MY DEAR SIR,-- + + I beg that you will express to these gentlemen my gratitude for + their visit, and for the sentiments communicated in the address to + which I have just listened. I am much moved by the mention made of + the services which my late illustrious husband was able to render + to the cause of Greece in his youth, and to that of Crete in his + later life. It is true that his earliest efforts, outside of his + native country, were for Greek independence, and that his latest + endeavors in Europe were made in aid of the Cretans, who have + struggled with so much courage and perseverance to deliver their + country from the yoke of Turkish oppression. Pray assure these + gentlemen that my children and I will never cease to pray for the + welfare of Greece, and especially for the emancipation of Crete. + Though myself already in the decline of life, I yet hope that I + shall live long enough to see the deliverance of your island, + [Greek] tn eleutherian ts Krts. + +A Greek newspaper's report of this occasion remarked:-- + + The last words of Mrs. Howe's reply, spoken in Greek, brought tears + to the eyes of the heroes, most of whom had known the + ever-memorable Dr. Howe in the glorious days of the war of 1821, + and had fought with him against the oppressors. Mr. Rainieri + interpreted the meaning of Mrs. Howe's words to his + fellow-citizens. After this, Mrs. Howe gave orders for + refreshments, and began to talk slowly, but distinctly, in Greek, + to the great pleasure of all present, who heard directly from her + the voice of her heart. + +I will only add that all parties stood during the official part of the +interview. This being at an end, coffee and cordials were brought, and +we sat at ease, and chatted as well as my limited use of the modern +Greek tongue allowed. Before we separated, one of the Greeks present +invited the chiefs and myself and daughter to a feast which he proposed +to give at Phaleron, in honor of the meeting which I have just +described. + +Some account of this festivity may not be uninteresting to my readers. I +must premise that it was to be no banquet of modern fashion, but a feast +of the Homeric sort, in which a lamb, roasted whole in the open air, +would be the principal dish. Phaleron, where it was appointed to take +place, is an ancient port, only three miles distant from Athens. The +sea view from this point is admirable. The bay is small, and its +surroundings are highly picturesque. Classic as was the occasion, the +unclassic railway furnished our conveyance. + +The Cretan chiefs came punctually to the station, and presently we all +entered a parlor-car, and were whisked off to the scene of action. This +was the hotel at Phaleron, where we found a long table handsomely set +out, and adorned with fruits and flowers. The company dispersed for a +short time,--some to walk by the shore; some to see the lambs roasting +on their spit in the courtyard; I, to sit quietly for half an hour, +after which interval, dinner was announced. + +Mr. Rainieri gave me his arm, and seated me on his right. On my right +sat Katzi Michlis. My daughter and a young cousin were twined in like +blooming roses between the gray old chieftains. Paraskevades, the giver +of the feast, looked all aglow with pleasure and enthusiasm. Our soup +was served,--quite a worldly, French soup. But the Greeks insist that +the elaborate style of cookery usually known as French originated with +them. Then came a Cretan dish consisting of the liver and entrails of +the lambs, twisted and toasted on a spit. Some modern _entremets_ +followed, and then, as _pice de rsistance_, the lambs, with +accompanying salad. Each of the elder chiefs, before tasting his first +glass of wine, rose and saluted the company, making especial obeisance +to the master of the feast. + +The Homeric rage of hunger and thirst having been satisfied, it became +time for us to make the most of a reunion so rare in its elements, and +necessarily so brief. I will here quote partially the report given in +one of the Greek papers of the time. The writer says: "During dinner +many warm toasts were drunk. Mr. Rainieri drank to the health of Mrs. +Howe. Mr. Paraskevades drank to the memory of Dr. Howe and the health +of all freedom-loving Americans, giving his toast first in Greek and +afterwards in English. To all this, Mrs. Howe made answer in French, +with great sympathy and eloquence." So the paper said, but I will only +say that I did as well as I was able. + +At the mention of Dr. Howe's name, old Korakas rose, and said: "I assure +Mrs. Howe that when, with God's will, Crete becomes free, the Cretans +will erect a statue to the memory of her ever-memorable husband." At +this time, I thought it only right to propose the memory of President +Felton, former president of Harvard University, in his day an ardent +lover of Greek literature, and of the land which gave it birth. The +eldest son of this lamented friend sat with us at the table, and had +become so proficient in the language of the country as to be able to +acknowledge the compliment in Greek, which the reporter qualifies as +excellent. Apropos of this same reporter, let me say that he entered so +heartily into the spirit of the feast as to improvise on the spot some +lines of poetry, of which the following is a free translation:-- + + I greet the warriors of brave Crete + Assembled in this place. + Each of them represents her mountains, + Each her heart, each her breath. + If life may be measured by struggles, + So great is her life, + That on the day when she becomes free + Two worlds will be filled with the joy of her freedom. + +The report says truly that the heroes of Crete, with their white beards, +resembled gods of Olympus. The three oldest--Korakas, Kriaris, and +Syphacus--spoke of the days in which Dr. Howe, while taking part with +them in the military operations of the war of Greek independence, at the +same time made his medical skill availing to the sick and wounded. + +When we had risen from the board, passing into another room, my daughter +saw a ball lying on the table, and soon engaged the ancient chiefs in +the pastime of throwing and catching it. "See," said one of the company, +"Dr. Howe's daughter is playing with the men who, fifty years ago, were +her father's companions in arms." + +After the simple patriarchal festivity, the return, even to Athens, +seemed a return to the commonplace. + +A word regarding the Greek church belongs here. Its ritual represents, +without doubt, the most ancient form of worship which can have +representation in these days. The church calls itself simply orthodox. +It classes Christians as orthodox, Romanist, and Protestant, and +condemns the two last-named confessions of faith equally as heresies. +The Greek church in Greece has little zeal for the propaganda of its +special doctrine, but it has great zeal against the introduction of any +other sect within the boundaries of its domain. Protestant and Catholic +congregations are tolerated in Greece, but the attempt to educate Greek +children in the tenets held by either is not tolerated, is in fact +prohibited by government. I found the religious quiet of Athens somewhat +disturbed by the presence of several missionaries, supported by funds +from America, who persisted in teaching and preaching; one, after the +form of the Baptist, another, after that of the Presbyterian body. The +schools formerly established in connection with these missions have been +forcibly closed, because those in charge of them would not submit them +to the religious authority of the Greek priesthood. + +The Sunday preaching of the missionaries, on the other hand, still went +on, making converts from time to time, and supplying certainly a direct +and vivid influence quite other than the extremely formal teaching of +the state church. The most prominent of these missionaries are Greeks +who have received their education in America, and who combine a fervent +love for their mother country with an equally fervent desire for her +religious progress. One can easily understand the attachment of the +Greeks to their national church. It has been the ark of safety by which +their national existence has been preserved. + +When the very name of Hellene was almost obliterated from the minds of +those entitled to bear it, the Greek priesthood were unwearied in +keeping alive the love of the ancient ritual and doctrine, the belief in +the Christian religion. This debt of gratitude is warmly remembered by +the Greeks of to-day, and their church is still to them the symbol of +national, as well as of religious, unity. On the other hand, the +progress of religious thought and culture carries inquiring minds beyond +the domain of ancient and literal interpretation, and the outward +conformity which society demands is counter-balanced by much personal +scepticism and indifference. The missionaries, who cannot compete in +polite learning with the _lite_ of their antagonists, are yet much +better informed than the greater part of the secular clergy, and +represent, besides, something of American freedom, and the right and +duty of doing one's own thinking in religious matters, and of accepting +doctrines, if at all, with a living faith and conviction, not with a +dead and formal assent. It is one of those battles between the Past and +the Future which have to fight themselves out to an issue that outsiders +cannot hasten. + +Shall I close these somewhat desultory remarks with any attempt at a +lesson which may be drawn from them? Yes; to Americans I will say: Love +Greece. Be glad of the men who rose up from your midst at the cry of her +great anguish, to do battle in her behalf. Be glad of the money which +you or your fathers sent to help her. America never spends money better +than in this way. Remember what this generation may be in danger of +forgetting,--that we can never be so great ourselves as to be absolved +from regarding the struggle for freedom, in the remotest corners of the +earth, with tender sympathy and interest. And in the great reactions +which attend human progress, when self-interest is acknowledged as the +supreme god everywhere, and the ideals of justice and honor are set out +of sight and derided, let the heart of this country be strong to protest +against military usurpation, against barbarous rule. Let America invite +to her shores the dethroned heroes of liberal thought and policy, saying +to them: "Come and abide with us; we have a country, a hand, a heart, +for you." + + + + +The Salon in America + + +THE word "society" has reached the development of two opposite meanings. +The generic term applies to the body politic _en masse_; the specific +term is technically used to designate a very limited portion of that +body. The use, nowadays, of the slang expression "sassiety" is evidence +that we need a word which we do not as yet possess. + +It is with this department of the human fellowship that I now propose to +occupy myself, and especially with one of its achievements, considered +by some a lost art,--the salon. + +This prelude of mine is somewhat after the manner of _Polonius_, but, as +Shakespeare must have had occasion to observe, the mind of age has ever +a retrospective turn. Those of us who are used to philosophizing must +always go back from a particular judgment to some governing principle +which we have found, or think we have found, in long experience. The +question whether salons are possible in America leads my thoughts to +other questions which appear to me to lie behind this one, and which +primarily concern the well-being of civilized man. + +The uses of society, in the sense of an assemblage for social +intercourse, may be briefly stated as follows: first of all, such +assemblages are needed, in order to make people better friends. +Secondly, they are needed to enlarge the individual mind by the +interchange of thought and expression with other minds. Thirdly, they +are needed for the utilization of certain sorts and degrees of talent +which would not be available either for professional, business, or +educational work, but which, appropriately combined and used, can +forward the severe labors included under these heads, by the +instrumentality of sympathy, enjoyment, and good taste. + +Any social custom or institution which can accomplish one or more of +these ends will be found of important use in the work of civilization; +but here, as well as elsewhere, the ends which the human heart desires +are defeated by the poverty of human judgment and the general ignorance +concerning the relation of means to ends. Society, thus far, is a sort +of lottery, in which there are few prizes and many blanks, and each of +these blanks represents some good to which men and women are entitled, +and which they should have, and could, if they only knew how to come at +it. + +Thus, social intercourse is sometimes so ordered that it develops +antagonism instead of harmony, and makes one set of people the enemies +of another set, dividing not only circles, but friendships and +families. This state of things defeats society's first object, which, in +my view, is to make people better friends. Secondly, it will happen, and +not seldom, that the frequent meeting together of a number of people, +necessarily restricted, instead of enlarging the social horizon of the +individual, will tend to narrow it more and more, so that sets and +cliques will revolve around small centres of interest, and refuse to +extend their scope. + +In this way, end number two, the enlargement of the individual mind is +lost sight of, and, end number three, the interchange of thought and +experience does not have room to develop itself. + +People say what they think others want to hear: they profess experiences +which they have never had. Here, consequently, a sad blank is drawn, +where we might well look for the greatest prize; and, end number four, +the utilization of secondary or even tertiary talents is defeated by the +application of a certain fashion varnish, which effaces all features of +individuality, and produces a wondrously dull surface, where we might +have hoped for a brilliant variety of form and color. + +These defects of administration being easily recognized, the great +business of social organizations ought to be to guard against them in +such wise that the short space and limited opportunity of individual +life should have offered to it the possibility of a fair and generous +investment, instead of the uncertain lottery of which I spoke just now. + +One of the great needs of society in all times is that its guardians +shall take care that rules or institutions devised for some good end +shall not become so perverted in the use made of them as to bring about +the result most opposed to that which they were intended to secure. +This, I take it, is the true meaning of the saying that "the price of +liberty is eternal vigilance," no provision to secure this being sure to +avail, without the constant direction of personal care to the object. + +The institution of the salon might, in some periods of social history, +greatly forward the substantial and good ends of human companionship. I +can easily fancy that, in other times and under other circumstances, its +influence might be detrimental to general humanity and good fellowship. +We can, in imagination, follow the two processes which I have here in +mind. The strong action of a commanding character, or of a commanding +interest, may, in the first instance, draw together those who belong +together. Fine spirits, communicative and receptive, will obey the fine +electric force which seeks to combine them,--the great wits, and the +people who can appreciate them; the poets, and their fit hearers; +philosophers, statesmen, economists, and the men and women who will be +able and eager to learn from the informal overflow of their wisdom and +knowledge. + +Here we may have a glimpse of a true republic of intelligence. What +should overthrow it? Why should it not last forever, and be handed down +from one generation to another? + +The salon is an insecure institution; first, because the exclusion of +new material, of new men and new ideas, may so girdle such a society +that its very perfection shall involve its death. Then, on account of +the false ideas and artificial methods which self-limiting society tends +to introduce, in time the genuine basis of association disappears from +view: the great _name_ is wanted for the reputation of the salon, not +the great intelligence for its illumination. The moment that you put the +name in place of the individual, you introduce an element of insincerity +and failure. + +There is a sort of homage quite common in society, which amounts to such +flattery as this: "Madam, I assure you that I consider you an eminently +brilliant and successful sham. Will you tell me your secret, or shall I, +a worker in the same line, tell you mine?" Again, the contradictory +objects of our desired salon are its weakness. We wish it to exclude the +general public, but we dreadfully desire that it shall be talked about +and envied by the general public. These two opposite aims--a severe +restriction of membership, and an unlimited extension of +reputation--are very likely to destroy the social equilibrium of any +circle, coterie, or association. + +Such contradictions have deep roots; even the general conduct of +neighborhood evinces them. People are often concerned lest those who +live near them should infringe upon the rights and reserves of their +household. In large cities, people sometimes boast with glee that they +have no acquaintance with the families dwelling on either side of them. +And yet, in some of those very cities, social intercourse is limited by +regions, and one street of fine houses will ignore another, which is, to +all appearances, as fine and as reputable. Under these circumstances, +some may naturally ask: "Who is my neighbor?" In the sense of the good +Samaritan, mostly no one. + +Dante has given us pictures of the ideal good and the ideal evil +association. The company of his demons is distracted by incessant +warfare. Weapons are hurled back and forth between them, curses and +imprecations, while the solitary souls of great sinners abide in the +torture of their own flame. As the great poet has introduced to us a +number of his acquaintance in this infernal abode, we may suppose him to +have given us his idea of much of the society of his own time. Such +appeared to him that part of the World which, with the Flesh and the +Devil, completes the trinity of evil. But, in his Paradiso, what +glimpses does he give us of the lofty spiritual communion which then, as +now, redeemed humanity from its low discredit, its spite and malice! + +Resist as we may, the Christian order is prevailing, and will more and +more prevail. At the two opposite poles of popular affection and learned +persuasion, it did overcome the world, ages ago. In the intimate details +of life, in the spirit of ordinary society, it will penetrate more and +more. We may put its features out of sight and out of mind, but they are +present in the world about us, and what we may build in ignorance or +defiance of them will not stand. Modern society itself is one of the +results of this world conquest which was crowned with thorns nearly two +thousand years ago. In spite of the selfishness of all classes of men +and women, this conquest puts the great goods of life within the reach +of all. + +I speak of Christianity here, because, as I see it, it stands in direct +opposition to the natural desire of privileged classes and circles to +keep the best things for their own advantage and enjoyment. "What, +then!" will you say, "shall society become an agrarian mob?" By no +means. Its great domain is everywhere crossed by boundaries. All of us +have our proper limits, and should keep them, when we have once learned +them. + +But all of us have a share, too, in the good and glory of human +destiny. The free course of intelligence and sympathy in our own +commonwealth establishes here a social unity which is hard to find +elsewhere. Do not let any of us go against this. Animal life itself +begins with a cell, and slowly unfolds and expands until it generates +the great electric currents which impel the world of sentient beings. + +The social and political life of America has passed out of the cell +state into the sweep of a wide and brilliant efficiency. Let us not try +to imprison this truly cosmopolitan life in cells, going back to the +instinctive selfhood of the barbaric state. + +Nature starts from cells, but develops by centres. If we want to find +the true secret of social discrimination, let us seek it in the study of +centres,--central attractions, each subordinated to the governing +harmony of the universe, but each working to keep together the social +atoms that belong together. There was a time in which the stars in our +beautiful heaven were supposed to be kept in their places by solid +mechanical contrivances, the heaven itself being an immense body that +revolved with the rest. The progress of science has taught us that the +luminous orbs which surround us are not held by mechanical bonds, but +that natural laws of attraction bind the atom to the globe, and the +globe to its orbit. + +Even so is it with the social atoms which compose humanity. Each of +them has his place, his right, his beauty; and each and all are governed +by laws of belonging which are as delicate as the tracery of the frost, +and as mighty as the frost itself. + +The club is taking the place of the salon to-day, and not without +reason. I mean by this the study, culture, and social clubs, not those +modern fortresses in which a man rather takes refuge from society than +really seeks or finds it. I have just said that mankind are governed by +centres of natural attraction, around which their lives come to revolve. +In the course of human progress, the higher centres exercise an +ever-widening attraction, and the masses of mankind are brought more and +more under their influence. + +Now, the affection of fraternal sympathy and good-will is as natural to +man, though not so immediate in him, as are any of the selfish +instincts. Objects of moral and intellectual worth call forth this +sympathy in a high and ever-increasing degree, while objects in which +self is paramount call forth just the opposite, and foster in one and +all the selfish principle, which is always one of emulation, discord, +and mutual distrust. While a salon may be administered in a generous and +disinterested manner, I should fear that it would often prove an arena +in which the most selfish leadings of human nature would assert +themselves. + +In the club, a sort of public spirit necessarily develops itself. Each +of us would like to have his place there,--yes, and his appointed little +time of shining,--but a worthy object, such as will hold together men +and women on an intellectual basis, gradually wins for itself the place +of command in the affections of those who follow it in company. Each of +these will find that his unaided efforts are insufficient for the +furthering and illustration of a great subject which all have greatly at +heart. I have been present at a forge on which the pure gold of thought +has been hammered by thinkers into the rounded sphere of an almost +perfect harmony. One and another and another gave his hit or his touch, +and when the delightful hour was at an end, each of us carried the +golden sphere away with him. + +The club which I have in mind at this moment had an unfashionable name, +and was scarcely, if at all, recognized in the general society of +Boston. It was called the Radical Club,--and the really radical feature +in it was the fact that the thoughts presented at its meetings had a +root, and were, in that sense, radical. These thoughts, entertained by +individuals of very various persuasions, often brought forth strong +oppositions of opinion. Some of us used to wax warm in the defence of +our own conviction; but our wrath was not the wrath of the peacock, +enraged to see another peacock unfold its brilliant tail, but the +concern of sincere thinkers that a subject worth discussing should not +be presented in a partial and one-sided manner, to which end, each +marked his point and said his say; and when our meeting was over, we had +all had the great instruction of looking into the minds of those to whom +truth was as dear as to ourselves, even if her aspect to them was not +exactly what it was to us. + +Here I have heard Wendell Phillips and Oliver Wendell Holmes; John Weiss +and James Freeman Clarke; Athanase Coquerel, the noble French Protestant +preacher; William Henry Channing, worthy nephew of his great uncle; +Colonel Higginson, Dr. Bartol, and many others. Extravagant things were +sometimes said, no doubt, and the equilibrium of ordinary persuasion was +not infrequently disturbed for a time; but the satisfaction of those +present when a sound basis of thought was vindicated and established is +indeed pleasant in remembrance. + +I feel tempted to introduce here one or two magic-lantern views of +certain sittings of this renowned club, of which I cherish especial +remembrance. Let me say, speaking in general terms, that, albeit the +club was more critical than devout, its criticism was rarely other than +serious and earnest. I remember that M. Coquerel's discourse there was +upon "The Protestantism of Art," and that in it he combated the +generally received idea that the church of Rome has always stood first +in the patronage and inspiration of art. The great Dutch painters, +Holbein, Rembrandt, and their fellows, were not Roman Catholics. Michael +Angelo was protestant in spirit; so was Dante. I cannot recall with much +particularity the details of things heard so many years ago, but I +remember the presence at this meeting of Charles Sumner, George Hillard, +and Dr. Hedge. Mr. Sumner declined to take any part in the discussion +which followed M. Coquerel's discourse. Colonel Higginson, who was often +present at these meetings, maintained his view that Protestantism was +simply the decline of the Christian religion. Mr. Hillard quoted St. +James's definition of religion, pure and undefiled,--to visit the +fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted +from the world. Dr. Hedge, who was about to withdraw, paused for a +moment to say: "The word 'religion' is not rightly translated there; it +should mean"--I forgot what. The doctor's tone and manner very much +impressed a friend, who afterwards said to me: "Did he not go away 'like +one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him'?" + +Or it might be that John Weiss, he whom a lady writer once described as +"four parts spirit and one part flesh," gave us his paper on Prometheus, +or one on music, or propounded his theory of how the world came into +existence. Colonel Higginson would descant upon the Greek goddesses, as +representing the feminine ideals of the Greek mythology, which he held +to be superior to the Christian ideals of womanhood,--dear Elizabeth +Peabody and I meeting him in earnest opposition. David Wasson, powerful +in verse and in prose, would speak against woman suffrage. When driven +to the wall, he confessed that he did not believe in popular suffrage at +all; and when forced to defend this position, he would instance the +wicked and ill-governed city of New York as reason enough for his views. +I remember his going away after such a discussion very abruptly, not at +all in Dr. Hedge's grand style, but rather as if he shook the dust of +our opinions from his feet; for no one of the radicals would countenance +this doctrine, and though we freely confessed the sins of New York, we +believed not a whit the less in the elective franchise, with amendments +and extensions. + +Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, one day, if I remember rightly, gave a very +succinct and clear statement of the early forms of Calvinistic doctrine +as held in this country, and Wendell Phillips lent his eloquent speech +to this and to other discussions. + +When I think of it, I believe that I had a salon once upon a time. I did +not call it so, nor even think of it as such; yet within it were +gathered people who represented many and various aspects of life. They +were real people, not lay figures distinguished by names and clothes. +The earnest humanitarian interests of my husband brought to our home a +number of persons interested in reform, education, and progress. It was +my part to mix in with this graver element as much of social grace and +geniality as I was able to gather about me. I was never afraid to bring +together persons who rarely met elsewhere than at my house, confronting +Theodore Parker with some archpriest of the old orthodoxy, or William +Lloyd Garrison with a decade, perhaps, of Beacon Street dames. A friend +said, on one of these occasions: "Our hostess delights in contrasts." I +confess that I did; but I think that my greatest pleasure was in the +lessons of human compatibility which I learned on this wise. I started, +indeed, with the conviction that thought and character are the foremost +values in society, and was not afraid nor ashamed to offer these to my +guests, with or without the stamp of fashion and position. The result +amply justified my belief. + +Some periods in our own history are more favorable to such intercourse +than others. The agony and enthusiasm of the civil war, and the long +period of ferment and disturbance which preceded and followed that great +crisis,--these social agitations penetrated the very fossils of the body +politic. People were glad to meet together, glad to find strength and +comfort among those who lived and walked by solid convictions. We cannot +go back to that time; we would not, if we could; but it was a grand time +to live and to work in. + +I am sorry when I see people build palaces in America. We do not need +them. Why should we bury fortune and life in the dead state of rooms +which are not lived in? Why should we double and triple for ourselves +the dangers of insufficient drainage or defective sanitation? Let us +have such houses as we need,--comfortable, well aired, well lighted, +adorned with such art as we can appreciate, enlivened by such company as +we can enjoy. Similarly, I believe that we should, individually, come +much nearer to the real purpose of a salon by restricting the number of +our guests and enlarging their variety. + +If we are to have a salon, do not let us think too much about its +appearance to the outside world,--how it will be reported, and extolled, +and envied. Mr. Emerson withdrew from the Boston Radical Club because +newspaper reports of its meetings were allowed. We live too much in +public to-day, and desire too much the seal of public notice. + +There is not room in our short human life for both shams and realities. +We can neither pursue nor possess both. I think of this now entirely +with application to the theme under consideration. Let us not exercise +sham hospitality to sham friends. Let the heart of our household be +sincere; let our home affections expand to a wider human brotherhood and +sisterhood. Let us be willing to take trouble to gather our friends +together, and to offer them such entertainment as we can, remembering +that the best entertainment is mutual. + +But do not let us offend ourselves or our friends with the glare of +lights, the noise of numbers, in order that all may suffer a tedious and +joyless being together, and part as those who have contributed to each +other's _ennui_, all sincere and reasonable intercourse having been +wanting in the general encounter. + +We should not feel bound, either, to the literal imitation of any facts +or features of European life which may not fit well upon our own. In +many countries, the currents of human life have become so deepened and +strengthened by habit and custom as to render change very difficult, and +growth almost impossible. In our own, on the contrary, life is fresh and +fluent. Its boundaries should be elastic, capable even of indefinite +expansion. + +In the older countries of which I speak, political power and social +recognition are supposed to emanate from some autocratic source, and the +effort and ambition of all naturally look toward that source, and, +knowing none other, feel a personal interest in maintaining its +ascendency, the statu quo. In our own broad land, power and light have +no such inevitable abiding-place, but may emanate from an endless +variety of points and personalities. + +The other mode of living may have much to recommend it for those to whom +it is native and inherited, but it is not for us. And when we apologize +for our needs and deficiencies, it should not be on the ground of our +youth and inexperience. If the settlement of our country is recent, we +have behind us all the experience of the human race, and are bound to +represent its fuller and riper manhood. Our seriousness is sometimes +complained of, usually by people whose jests and pleasantries fail to +amuse us. Let us not apologize for this, nor envy any nation its power +of trifling and of _persiflage_. We have mighty problems to solve; great +questions to answer. The fate of the world's future is concerned in what +we shall do or leave undone. + +We are a people of workers, and we love work--shame on him who is +ashamed of it! When we are found, on our own or other shores, idling our +life away, careless of vital issues, ignorant of true principles, then +may we apologize, then let us make haste to amend. + + + + +Aristophanes + + +WHEN I learned, last season, that the attention of the school[A] this +year would be in a good degree given to the dramatists of ancient +Greece, I was seized with a desire to speak of one of these, to whom I +owe a debt of gratitude. This is the great Aristophanes, the first, and +the most illustrious, of comic writers for the stage,--first and best, +at least, of those known to Western literature. + +In the chance talk of people of culture, one hears of him all one's life +long, as exceedingly amusing. From my brothers in college, I learned the +"Frog Chorus" before I knew even a letter of the Greek alphabet. Many a +decade after this, I walked in the theatre of Bacchus at Athens, and +seeing the beauty of the marble seats, still ranged in perfect order, +and feeling the glory and dignity of the whole surrounding, I seemed to +guess that the comedies represented there were not desired to amuse idle +clowns nor to provoke vulgar laughter. + +[Note A] Read before the Concord School of Philosophy. + +At the foot of the Acropolis, with the Parthenon in sight and the +colossal statue of Minerva towering above the glittering temples, the +poet and his audience surely had need to bethink themselves of the +wisdom which lies in laughter, of the ethics of the humorous,--a topic +well worth the consideration of students of philosophy. The ethics of +the humorous, the laughter of the gods! "He that sitteth in the heavens +shall laugh them to scorn." Did not even the gentle Christ intend satire +when, after recognizing the zeal with which an ox or an ass would be +drawn out of a pit on the sacred day, he asked: "And shall not this +woman, whom Satan hath bound, lo! these eighteen years, be loosed from +her infirmity on the sabbath day?" + +When a Greek tragedy is performed before us, we are amazed at its force, +its coherence, and its simplicity. What profound study and quick sense +of the heroic in nature must have characterized the man who, across the +great gulf of centuries, can so sweep our heart-strings, and draw from +them such responsive music! Our praise of these great works almost +sounds conceited. It would be more fitting for us to sit in silence and +bewail our own smallness. Comedy, too, has her grandeur; and when she +walks the stage in robe and buskins, she, too, is to receive the highest +crown, and her lessons are to be laid to heart. + +I will venture a word here concerning the subjective side of comedy. Is +it the very depth and quick of our self-love which is reached by the +subtle sting which calls up a blush where no sermonizing would have that +effect? Deep satire touches the heroic within us. "Miserable sinners are +ye all," says the preacher, "vanity of vanities!" and we sit +contentedly, and say Amen. But here comes some one who sets up our +meannesses and incongruities before us so that they topple over and +tumble down. And then, strange to say, we feel in ourselves this same +power; and considering our follies in the same light, we are compelled +to deride, and also to forsake them. + +The miseries of war and the desirableness of peace were impressed +strongly on the mind of Aristophanes. The Peloponnesian War dragged on +from year to year with varying fortune; and though victory often crowned +the arms of the Athenians, its glory was dearly paid for by the +devastation which the Lacedmonians inflicted upon the territory of +Attica. "The Acharnians," "The Knights," and "Peace" deal with this +topic in various forms. In the first of these is introduced, as the +chief character, Dikopolis, a country gentleman who, in consequence of +the Spartan invasion, has been forced to forsake his estates, and to +take shelter in the city. He naturally desires the speedy conclusion of +hostilities, and to this end attends the assembly, determined, as he +says: + + To bawl, to abuse, to interrupt the speakers + Whenever I hear a word of any kind, + Except for an immediate peace. + +This method reminds us of the obstructionists in the British Parliament. +One man speaks of himself as loathing the city and longing to return + + To my poor village and my farm + That never used to cry: "Come buy my charcoal," + Nor "buy my oil," nor "buy my anything," + But gave me what I wanted, freely and fairly, + Clear of all cost, with never a word of buying. + +After various laughable adventures, Dikopolis finds it possible to +conclude a truce with the invaders on his own account, in which his +neighbors, the Acharnians, are not included. He returns to his farm, and +goes forth with wife and daughter to perform the sacrifice fitting for +the occasion. + + DIKOPOLIS + + Silence! Move forward, the Canephora. + You, Xanthias, follow close behind her there + In a proper manner, with your pole and emblem. + + WIFE + + Set down the basket, daughter, and begin + The ceremony. + + DAUGHTER + + Give me the cruet, mother, + And let me pour it on the holy cake. + + DIKOPOLIS + + O blessed Bacchus, what a joy it is + To go thus unmolested, undisturbed, + My wife, my children, and my family, + With our accustomed joyful ceremony, + To celebrate thy festival in my farm. + Well, here's success to the truce of thirty years. + + WIFE + + Mind your behavior, child. Carry the basket + In a modest, proper manner; look demure; + Mind your gold trinkets, they'll be stolen else. + +Dikopolis now intones a hymn to Bacchus, but is interrupted by the +violent threats of his war-loving neighbors, the Acharnians, who break +out in injurious language, and threaten the life of the miscreant who +has made peace with the enemies of his country solely for his own +interests. With a good deal of difficulty, he persuades the enraged +crowd to allow him to argue his case before them, and this fact makes us +acquainted with another leading trait in Aristophanes; viz., his polemic +opposition to the poet Euripides. Dikopolis, wishing to make a +favorable impression upon the rustics, hies to the house of Euripides, +whose servant parleys with him in true transcendental language. + + DIKOPOLIS + + Euripides within? + + SERVANT + + Within, and not within. You comprehend me? + + DIKOPOLIS + + Within and not within! What do you mean? + + SERVANT + + His outward man + Is in the garret writing tragedy; + While his essential being is abroad + Pursuing whimsies in the world of fancy. + +The visitor now calls aloud upon the poet: + + Euripides, Euripides, come down, + If ever you came down in all your life! + 'Tis I, Dikopolis, from Chollid. + +This Chollid probably corresponded to the Pea Ridge often quoted +in our day. Euripides declines to come down, but is presently made +visible by some device of the scene-shifter. In the dialogue that +follows, Aristophanes ridicules the personages and the costumes +brought upon the stage by Euripides, and reflects unhandsomely upon +the poet's mother, who was said to have been a vender of +vegetables. Dikopolis does not seek to borrow poetry or eloquence +from Euripides, but prays him to lend him "a suit of tatters from a +worn-out tragedy." + + For mercy's sake, for I'm obliged to make + A speech in my own defence before the chorus, + A long pathetic speech, this very day, + And if it fails, the doom of death betides me. + +Euripides now asks what especial costume would suit the need of +Dikopolis, and calls over the most pitiful names in his tragedies: +"Do you want the dress of Oineos?"--"Oh, no! something much more +wretched."--"Phoenix? "--"No; much worse than +Phoenix."--"Philocletes?"--"No."--"Lame Bellerophon?" Dikopolis +says: + + 'Twas not Bellerophon, but very like him, + A kind of smooth, fine-spoken character; + A beggar into the bargain, and a cripple + With a grand command of words, bothering and begging. + +Euripides by this description recognizes the personage intended, +_viz._, Telephus, the physician, and orders his servant to go and +fetch the ragged suit, which he will find "next to the tatters of +Thyestes, just over Ino's." Dikopolis exclaims, on seeing the mass +of holes and patches, but asks, further, a little Mysian bonnet for +his head, a beggar's staff, a dirty little basket, a broken pipkin; +all of which Euripides grants, to be rid of him. All this insolence +the visitor sums up in the following lines:-- + + I wish I may be hanged, my dear Euripides, + If ever I trouble you for anything, + Except one little, little, little boon, + A single lettuce from your mother's stall. + +This is more than Euripides can bear, and the gates are now shut upon +the intruder. + +Later in the play, Dikopolis appears in company with the General +Lamachus. A sudden call summons this last to muster his men and march +forth to repel a party of marauders. Almost at the same moment, +Dikopolis is summoned to attend the feast of Bacchus, and to bring his +best cookery with him. In the dialogue that follows, the valiant soldier +and the valiant trencherman appear in humorous contrast. + + LAMACHUS + + Boy, boy, bring out here my haversack. + + DIKOPOLIS + + Boy, boy, hither bring my dinner service. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring salt flavored with thyme, boy, and onions. + + DIKOPOLIS + + Bring me a cutlet. Onions make me ill. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring hither pickled fish, stale. + + DIKOPOLIS + + And to me a fat pudding. I will cook it yonder. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring me my plumes and my helmet. + + DIKOPOLIS + + Bring me doves and thrushes. + + LAMACHUS + + Fair and white is the plume of the ostrich. + + DIKOPOLIS + + Fair and yellow is the flesh of the dove. + + LAMACHUS + + O man! leave off laughing at my weapons. + + DIKOPOLIS + + O man! don't you look at my thrushes. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring the case that holds my plumes. + + DIKOPOLIS + + And bring me a dish of hare. + + LAMACHUS + + But the moths have eaten my crest. + +Dikopolis makes some insolent rejoinder, at which the general takes +fire. He calls for his lance; Dikopolis, for the spit, which he frees +from the roast meat. Lamachus raises his Gorgon-orbed shield; Dikopolis +lifts a full-orbed pancake. Lamachus then performs a mock act of +divination:-- + + Pour oil upon the shield. What do I trace + In the divining mirror? 'Tis the face + Of an old coward, fortified with fear, + That sees his trial for desertion near. + + DIKOPOLIS + + Pour honey on the pancake. What appears? + A comely personage, advanced in years, + Firmly resolved to laugh at and defy + Both Lamachus and the Gorgon family. + +In "The Frogs," god and demigod, Bacchus and Hercules, are put upon the +stage with audacious humor. The first has borrowed the costume of the +second, in which unfitting garb he knocks at Hercules' door on his way +to Hades, his errand being to find and bring back Euripides. The dearth +of clever poets is the reason alleged for this undertaking. Hercules +suggests to him various poets who are still on earth. Bacchus condemns +them as "warblers of the grove; poor, puny wretches!" He now asks +Hercules for introductions to his friends in the lower regions, and for + + Any communication about the country, + The roads, the streets, the bridges, public houses + And lodgings, free from bugs and fleas, if possible. + +Hercules mentions various ways of arriving at the infernal regions: "The +hanging road,--rope and noose?"--"That's too stifling."--"The pestle and +mortar, then,--the beaten road?"--"No; that gives one cold feet."--"Go, +then, to the tower of the Keramicus, and throw yourself headlong." No; +Bacchus does not wish to have his brains dashed out. He would go by the +road which Hercules took. Of this, Hercules gives an alarming account, +beginning with the bottomless lake and the boat of Charon. Bacchus +determines to set forth, but is detained by the recalcitrance of his +servant, Xanthias, who refuses to carry his bundle any further. + +A funeral now comes across the stage. Bacchus asks the dead man if he is +willing to carry some bundles to Hell for him. The dead man demands two +drachmas for the service. Bacchus offers him ninepence, which he angrily +refuses, and is carried out of sight. Charon presently appears, and +makes known, like a good ferryman, the points at which he will deliver +passengers. + + Who wants the ferryman? + Anybody waiting to remove from the sorrows of life? + A passage to Lethe's wharf? to Cerberus' Beach? + To Tartarus? to Tenaros? to Perdition? + +Just so, in my youth, sailing on the Hudson, one heard all night the +sound of Peekskill landing! Fishkill landing! Rhinebeck landing!--with +darkness and swish of steam quite infernal enough. + +Charon takes Bacchus on board, but compels him to do his part of the +rowing, promising him: "As soon as you begin you shall have music that +will teach you to keep time." + +This music is the famous "Chorus of the Frogs," beginning, "Brokekekesh, +koash, koash," and running through many lines, with this occasional +refrain, of which Bacchus soon tires, as he does of the oar. His servant +Xanthias is obliged to make the journey by land and on foot, Charon +bidding him wait for his master at the Stone of Repentance, by the +Slough of Despond, beyond the Tribulations. After encountering the +Empousa, a nursery hobgoblin, they meet the spirits of the initiated, +singing hymns to Bacchus--whom they invoke as Jacchus--and to Ceres. +This part of the play, intended, Frere says, to ridicule the Eleusinian +mysteries, is curiously human in its incongruity,--a jumble of the +beautiful and the trivial. I must quote from it the closing strophe:-- + + Let us hasten, let us fly + Where the lovely meadows lie, + Where the living waters flow, + Where the roses bloom and blow. + Heirs of immortality, + Segregated safe and pure, + Easy, sorrowless, secure, + Since our earthly course is run, + We behold a brighter sun. + +Such sweet words we to-day could expect to hear from the lips of our own +dear ones, gone before. + +Very incongruous is certainly this picture of Bacchus, in a cowardly and +ribald state of mind, listening to the hymn which celebrates his divine +aspect. Jacchus, whom the spirits invoke, is the glorified Bacchus, the +highest ideal of what was vital religion in those days. But the god +himself is not professionally, only personally, present, and, wearing +the disguise of Hercules, in no way notices or responds to the strophes +which invoke him. He asks the band indeed to direct him to Pluto's +house, which turns out to be near at hand. + +Before its door, Bacchus is seized with such a fit of timidity that, +instead of knocking, he asks his servant to tell him how the native +inhabitants of the region knock at doors. Reproved by the servant, he +knocks, and announces himself as the valiant Hercules. acus, the +porter, now rushes out upon him with violent abuse, reviling him for +having stolen, or attempted to steal, the watch-dog, Cerberus, and +threatening him with every horror which Hell can inflict. acus departs, +and Bacchus persuades his servant to don the borrowed garb of Hercules, +while he loads himself with the baggage which the other was carrying. +Proserpine, however, sends her maid to invite the supposed Hercules to a +feast of dainties. Xanthias now assumes the manners befitting the hero, +at which Bacchus orders him to change dresses with him once more, and +assume his own costume, which he does. Hardly have they done this, when +Bacchus is again set upon by two frantic women, who shriek in his ears +the deeds of gluttony committed by Hercules in Hades, and not paid for. + + There; that's he + That came to our house, ate those nineteen loaves. + Aye; sure enough. That's he, the very man; + And a dozen and a half of cutlets and fried chops, + At a penny ha' penny apiece. And all the garlic, + And the good green cheese that he gorged at once. + And then, when I called for payment, he looked fierce + And stared me in the face, and grinned and roared. + +The women threaten the false Hercules with the pains and penalties of +swindling. He now pretends to soliloquize: "I love poor Xanthias dearly; +that I do." + +"Yes," says Xanthias, "I know why; but it's of no use. I won't act +Hercules." Xanthias, however, allows himself to be persuaded, and when +acus, appearing with a force, cries: "Arrest me there that fellow that +stole the dog," Xanthias contrives to make an effectual resistance. +Having thus gained time, he assures acus that he never stole so much as +a hair of his dog's tail; but gives him leave to put Bacchus, his +supposed slave, to the torture, in order to elicit from him the truth. +acus, softened by this proposal, asks in which way the master would +prefer to have his slave tortured. Xanthias replies: + + In your own way, with the lash, with knots and screws, + With the common, usual, customary tortures, + With the rack, with the water torture, any sort of way, + With fire and vinegar--all sorts of ways. + +Bacchus, thus driven to the wall, proclaims his divinity, and claims +Xanthias as his slave. The latter suggests that if Bacchus is a +divinity, he may be beaten without injury, as he will not feel it. +Bacchus retorts, "If you are Hercules, so may you." acus, to ascertain +the truth, impartially belabors them both. Each, in turn, cries out, and +pretends to have quoted from the poets. acus, unable to decide which is +the god and which the impostor, brings them both before Proserpine and +Pluto. + +In the course of a delicious dialogue between the two servants, acus +and Xanthias, it is mentioned that Euripides, on coming to the shades, +had driven schylus from the seat of honor at Pluto's board, holding +himself to be the worthier poet. schylus has objected to this, and the +matter is now to be settled by a trial of skill in which Bacchus is to +be the umpire. + +The shades of Euripides and schylus appear in the next scene, with +Bacchus between them. schylus wishes the trial had taken place +elsewhere. Why? Because while his tragedies live on earth, those of +Euripides are dead, and have descended with him to bear him company in +Hell. The encounter of wits between the two is of the grandiose comic, +each taunting the other with his faults of composition. Euripides says +of schylus: + + He never used a simple word + But bulwarks and scamanders and hippogriffs and Gorgons, + Bloody, remorseless phrases. + +schylus rejoins: + + Well, then, thou paltry wretch, explain + What were your own devices? + +Euripides says that he found the Muse + + Puffed and pampered + With pompous sentences, a cumbrous huge virago. + +In order to bring her to a more genteel figure: + + I fed her with plain household phrase and cool familiar salad, + With water gruel episode, with sentimental jelly, + With moral mince-meat, till at length I brought her into compass. + I kept my plots distinct and clear to prevent confusion. + My leading characters rehearsed their pedigrees for prologues. + +"For all this," says schylus, "you ought to have been hanged." schylus +now speaks of the grand old days, of the great themes and works of early +poetry: + + Such is the duty, the task of a poet, + Fulfilling in honor his duty and trust. + Look to traditional history, look; + See what a blessing illustrious poets + Conferred on mankind in the centuries past. + Orpheus instructed mankind in religion, + Reclaimed them from bloodshed and barbarous rites. + Musus delivered the doctrine of medicine, + And warnings prophetic for ages to come. + Next came old Hesiod, teaching us husbandry, + Rural economy, rural astronomy, + Homely morality, labor and thrift. + Homer himself, our adorable Homer, + What was his title to praise and renown? + What but the worth of the lessons he taught us, + Discipline, arms, and equipment of war. + +And here the poet comes to speak of a question which is surely prominent +to-day in the minds of thoughtful people. schylus, in his argument +against Euripides, speaks of the noble examples which he himself has +brought upon the stage, reproaches his adversary with the objectionable +stories of Sthenobus and Phdra, with which he, Euripides has corrupted +the public taste. + +Euripides alleges in his own defence that he did not invent those +stories. "Phdra's affair was a matter of fact." schylus rejoins: + + A fact with a vengeance, but horrible facts + Should be buried in silence, not bruited abroad, + Nor brought forth on the stage, nor emblazoned in poetry. + Children and boys have a teacher assigned them; + The bard is a master for manhood and youth, + Bound to instruct them in virtue and truth + Beholden and bound. + +I do not know which of the plays of Aristophanes is considered the best +by those who are competent to speak authoritatively upon their merits; +but of those that I know, this drama of "The Frogs" seems to me to +exhibit most fully the scope and extent of his comic power. +Condescending in parts to what is called low comedy,--_i.e._, the +farcical, based upon the sense of what all know and experience,--it +rises elsewhere to the highest domain of literary criticism and +expression. + +The action between Bacchus and his slave forcibly reminds us of +Cervantes, though master and man alike have in them more of Sancho Panza +than of Quixote. In the journey to the palace of Pluto, I see the +prototype of what the great medival poet called "The Divine Comedy." I +find in both the same weird imagination, the same curious interbraiding +of the ridiculous and the grandiose. This, of course, with the +difference that the Greek poet affords us only a brief view of Hell, +while Dante detains us long enough to give us a realizing sense of what +it is, or might be. This same mingling of the awful and the grotesque +suggests to me passages in our own Hawthorne, similarly at home with +the supernatural, which underlies the story of "The Scarlet Letter," +and flashes out in "The Celestial Railroad." But I must come back to +Dante, who can amuse us with the tricks of demons, and can lift us to +the music of the spheres. So Aristophanes can show us, on the one hand, +the humorous relations of a coward and a clown; and, on the other, can +put into the mouth of the great schylus such words as he might fitly +have spoken. + +Perhaps the very extravagance of fun is carried even further in the +drama of "The Birds" than in those already quoted from. Its conceits +are, at any rate, most original, and, so far as I know, it is without +prototype or parallel in its matter and manner. + +The argument of the play can be briefly stated. Peisthetairus, an +Athenian citizen, dissatisfied with the state of things in his own +country, visits the Hoopoe with the intention of securing his +assistance in founding a new state, the dominion of the birds. He takes +with him a good-natured simpleton of a friend, Well-hoping, by name. Now +the Hoopoe in question, according to the old legend, had been known in +a previous state of being as Tereus, King of Thrace, and the +metamorphosis which changed him to a bird had changed his subjects also +into representatives of the various feathered tribes. These, however, +far from sharing the polite and hospitable character of their master, +become enraged at the intrusion of the strangers, and propose to attack +them in military style. The visitors seize a spit, the lid of a pot, and +various other culinary articles, and prepare to make what defence they +may, while the birds "present beaks," and prepare to charge. The +Hoopoe here interposes, and claims their attention for the project +which Peisthetairus has to unfold. + +The wily Athenian begins his address with prodigious flattery, calling +the feathered folk "a people of sovereigns," more ancient of origin than +man, his deities, or his world. In support of this last clause, he +quotes a fable of sop, who narrates that the lark was embarrassed to +bury his father, because the earth did not exist at the time of his +death. Sovereignty, of old, belonged to the birds. The stride of the +cock sufficiently shows his royal origin, and his authority is still +made evident by the alacrity with which the whole slumbering world +responds to his morning reveille. The kite once reigned in Greece; the +cuckoo in Sidon and Egypt. Jupiter has usurped the eagle's command, but +dares not appear without him, while + + Each of the gods had his separate fowl,-- + Apollo the hawk and Minerva the owl. + +Peisthetairus proposes that, in order to recover their lost sovereignty, +the birds shall build in the air a strongly fortified city. This done, +they shall send a herald to Jove to demand his immediate abdication. If +the celestials refuse to govern themselves accordingly, they are to be +blockaded. This blockade seems presently to obtain, and heavenly Iris, +flying across the sky on a message from the gods, is caught, arraigned, +and declared worthy of death,--the penalty of non-observance. The +prospective city receives the name of "Nephelococcagia," and this is +scarcely decided upon before a poet arrives to celebrate in an ode the +mighty Nephelococcagia state. + +Then comes a soothsayer to order the appropriate sacrifices; then an +astronomer, with instruments to measure the due proportions of the city; +then a would-be parricide, who announces himself as a lover of the bird +empire, and especially of that law which allows a man to beat his +father. Peisthetairus confesses that, in the bird domain, the chicken is +sometimes applauded for clapper-clawing the old cock. When, however, his +visitor expresses a wish to throttle his parent and seize upon his +estate, Peisthetairus refers him to the law of the storks, by which the +son is under obligation to feed and maintain the parent. This law, he +says, prevails in Nephelococcagia, and the parricide accordingly betakes +himself elsewhere. + +All this admirable fooling ends in the complete success of the birds. +Jupiter sends an embassy to treat for peace, and by a curious juggle, +imitating, no doubt, the political processes of those days, +Peisthetairus becomes recognized as the lawful sovereign of +Nephelococcagia, and receives, on his demand, the hand of Jupiter's +favorite queen in marriage. + +I have given my time too fully to the Greek poet to be able to make any +extended comparison between his works and those of the Elizabethan +dramatists. But from the plays which trifle so with the grim facts of +nature, I can fly to the "Midsummer Night's Dream," and alight for a +moment on one of its golden branches. Shakespeare's Athenian clowns are +rather Aristophanic in color. The play of "Pyramus and Thisbe" might +have formed one interlude on that very stage which had in sight the +glories of the Parthenon. The exquisite poetry which redeems their +nonsense has its parallel in the lovely "Chorus of the Clouds," the ode +to Peace, and other glimpses of the serious Aristophanes, which here and +there look out from behind the mask of the comedian. + +I am very doubtful whether good Greek scholars will think my selections +given here at all the best that could be made. I will remind them of an +Eastern tale in which a party of travellers were led, in the dark, +through an enchanted region in which showers of some unknown substance +fell around them, while a voice cried: "They that do not gather any will +grieve, and they who do gather will grieve that they did not gather +more, for these that fall are diamonds." So, of these bright diamonds of +matchless Greek wit, I have tried to gather some, but may well say I +grieve that I have not gathered more, and more wisely. + +These works are to us exquisite pieces of humoristic extravagance, but +to the people of the time they were far more than this; _viz._, the +lesson of ridicule for what was tasteless and ridiculous in Athenian +society, and the punishment of scathing satire for what was unworthy. +Annotators tell us that the plays are full of allusions to prominent +characters of the day. Some of these, as is well known, the poet sets +upon the stage in masquerades which reveal, more than they conceal, +their true personality. For the demagogue Cleon, and for the playwright +Euripides, he has no mercy. + +The patient student of Aristophanes and his commentators will acquire a +very competent knowledge of the politics of the wise little city at the +time of which he treats, also of its literary personages, pedants or +sophists. The works give us, I think, a very favorable impression of the +public to whose apprehension they were presented,--a quick-witted +people, surely, able to follow the sudden turns and doublings of the +poet's fancy; not to be surprised into stupidity by any ambush sprung +upon them out of obscurity. + +Compare with this the difficulty of commending anything worth thinking +of to the attention of a modern theatre audience. It is true that much +of this Greek wit must needs have been _caviare_ to the multitude, but +its seasoning, no doubt, penetrated the body politic. I remember, a +score or more of years ago, that a friend said that it was good and +useful to have some public characters Beecherized, alluding to the broad +and bold presentment of them given from time to time by our great +clerical humorist, Henry Ward Beecher. Very efficacious, one thinks, +must have been this scourge which the Greek comic muse wielded so +merrily, but so unmercifully. + +Although Aristophanes is very severe upon individuals, he does not, I +think, foster any class enmities, except, perhaps, against the sophists. +Although a city man, he treats the rustic population with great +tenderness, and the glimpses he gives us of country life are sweet and +genial. In this, he contrasts with the French playwrights of our time, +to whom city life is everything, and the province synonymous with all +that is dull and empty of interest. + +How can I dismiss the comedy of that day without one word concerning its +immortal tragedy,--Socrates, the divine man, compared and comparable to +Christ, chained in his dungeon and condemned to die? The most blameless +life could not save that sacred head. Its illumination, in which we sit +here to-day, drew to it the shafts of superstition, malice, and +wickedness. The comic poet might present on the stage such pictures of +the popular deities as would make the welkin ring with the roar of +laughter. This was not impiety. But Socrates, showing no disrespect to +these idols of the current persuasion, only daring to discern beyond +them God in his divineness, truth in her awful beauty,--_he_ must die +the death of the profane. + +It is a bitter story, surely, but "it must needs be that offences come." +Where should we be to-day if no one in human history had loved high +doctrine well enough to die for it? At such cost were these great +lessons given us. How can we thank God or man enough for them? + +The athletics of human thought are the true Olympian games. Human error +is wise and logical in its way. It confronts its antagonist with +terrific weapons; it seizes and sways him with a Titanic will force. It +knows where to attack, and how. It knows the spirit that would be death +to it, could that spirit prevail. It closes in the death grapple; the +arena is red with the blood of its victim, but from that blood immortal +springs a new world, a new society. + +One word, in conclusion, about the Greek language. Valuable as +translations are, they can never, to the student, take the place of +originals. I have stumbled through these works with the lamest +knowledge of Greek, and with no one to help me. I have quoted from +admirable renderings of them into English. Yet, even in such delicate +handling as that of Frere, the racy quality of the Greek phrase +evaporates, like some subtle perfume; while the music of the grand +rhythm, which the ear seems able to get through the eye, is lost. + +The Greek tongue belongs to the history of thought. The language that +gives us such distinctions as _nous_ and _logos_, as _gy_ and _kosmos_, +has been the great pedagogue of our race, has laid the foundations of +modern thought. Let us, by all means, help ourselves with Frere, with +Jowett, and a multitude of other literary benefactors. But let us all +get a little Greek on our own account, for the sake of our Socrates and +of our Christ. And as the great but intolerant Agassiz had it for his +motto that "species do not transmute," let this school have among its +mottoes this one: "True learning does not de-Hellenize." + + + + +The Halfness of Nature + + +THE great office of ethics and sthetics is the reconciliation of God +and man; that is, of the divine and disinterested part of human nature +with its selfish and animal opposite. + +This opposition exists, primarily, in the individual; secondarily, in +the society formed out of individuals. Human institutions typify the +two, with their mutual influence and contradictions. The church +represents the one; the market, the other. The battle-field and the +hospital, the school and the forum, are further terms of the same +antithesis. Nature does so much for the man, and the material she +furnishes is so indispensable to all the constructions which we found +upon it, that the last thing a teacher can afford to do is to undervalue +her gifts. When critical agencies go so far as to do this, revolution is +imminent: Nature reasserts herself. + +Equally impotent is Nature where institutions do not supply the help of +Art. When this state of things perseveres, she dwindles instead of +growing. She becomes meagre, not grandiose. Men hunt, but do not +cultivate. Women drudge and bear offspring, but neither comfort nor +inspire. + +Let us examine a little into what Nature gives, and into what she does +not give. In the domain of thought and religion, people dispute much on +this head, and are mostly ranged in two parties, of which one claims for +her everything, while the other allows her nothing. + +In this controversy, we can begin with one point beyond dispute. Nature +gives the man, but she certainly does not give the clothes. Having +received his own body, he has to go far and work hard in order to cover +it. + +Nature again scarcely gives human food. Roots, berries, wild fruit, and +raw flesh would not make a very luxurious diet for the king of creation. +Even this last staple Nature does not supply gratis, and the art of +killing is man's earliest discovery in the lesson of self-sustenance. So +Death becomes the succursal of life. The sense of this originates, +first, the art of hunting; secondly, the art of war. + +Nature gives the religious impulse, originating in the further pole of +primal thought. The alternation of night and day may first suggest the +opposition of things seen and not seen. The world exists while the man +sleeps--exists independently of him. Sleep and its dreams are mysterious +to the waking man. His first theology is borrowed from this conjunction +of invisible might and irrational intellection. + +But Nature does not afford the church. Art does this, laboring long and +finishing never,--coming to a platform of rest, but coming at the same +time to a higher view, inciting to higher effort. Temple after temple is +raised. Juggernaut, Jove, Jesus! India does not get beyond Juggernaut. +Rome could not get beyond Jove. Christendom is far behind Jesus. In all +religions, Art founds on Nature, and aspires to super-nature. In all, +Art asserts the superiority of thought over unthought, of measure over +excess, of conscience over confidence. The latest evangel alone supplies +a method of popularizing thought, of beautifying measure, of harmonizing +conscience, and is, therefore, the religion that uses most largely from +the race, and returns most largely to it. + +Time permits me only a partial review of this great system of gifts and +deficiencies. The secret of progress seems an infinitesimal seed, +dropped in some bosoms to bear harvest for all. Seed and soil together +give the product which is called genius. But genius is only half of the +great man. No one works so hard as he does to obtain the result +corresponding to his natural dimensions and obligations. The gift and +the capacity to employ it are simply boons of Nature. The resolution to +do so, the patience and perseverance, the long tasks bravely undertaken +and painfully carried through--these come of the individual action of +the moral man, and constitute his moral life. The wonderfully clever +people we all know, who fill the society toy-shop with what is needed in +the society workshop, are people who have not consummated this +resolution, who have not had this bravery, this perseverance. Death does +not waste more of immature life than Indolence wastes of immature +genius. The law of labor in ethics and sthetics corresponds to the +energetic necessities of hygiene, and is the most precious and +indispensable gift of one generation to its successors. + +In ethics, Nature supplies the first half, but Religion, or the law of +duty, supplies the other. Nature gives the enthusiasm of love, but not +the tender and persevering culture of friendship, which carries the +light of that tropical summer into the winter of age, the icy recesses +of death. + +Art has no need to intervene in order to bring together those whom +passion inspires, whom inclination couples. But in crude Nature, passion +itself remains selfish, brutal, and short-lived. + +The tender and grateful recollection of transient raptures, the culture +and growth of generous sympathies, resulting in noble co-operation--Art +brings these out of Nature by the second birth, of which Christ knew, +and at which Nicodemus marvelled. + +Nature gives the love of offspring. Human parents share the passionate +attachment of other animals for their young. With the regulation of +this attachment Art has much to do. You love the child when it delights +you by day; you must also love it when it torments you at night. This +latter love is not against Nature, but Conscience has to apply the whip +and spur a little, or the mother will take such amusement as the child +can afford, and depute to others the fatigues which are its price. + +A graver omission yet Nature makes. She does not teach children to +reverence and cherish their parents when the relation between them +reverses itself in the progress of time, and those who once had all to +give have all to ask. Moses was not obliged to say: "Parents, love your +children." But he was obliged to say: "Honor thy father and thy mother," +in all the thunder of the Decalogue. The gentler and finer spirits value +the old for their useful council and inestimable experience. + +You know to-day; but your father can show you yesterday, bright with +living traditions which history neglects and which posterity loses. We +do not profit as we might by this source of knowledge. Elders question +the young for their instruction. Young people, in turn, should question +elders on their own account, not allowing the personal values of +experience to go down to the grave unrealized. But Youth is cruel and +remorseless. The young, in their fulness of energy, in their desire for +scope and freedom, are often in unseemly haste to see the old depart. + +Here Religion comes in with strong hands to moderate the tyrannous +impulse, the controversy of the green with the ripe fruit. All religions +agree in this intervention. The worship of ancestors in the Confucian +ethics shows this consciousness and intention. The aristocratic +traditions of rank and race are an invention to the same end. Vanity, +too, will often lead a man to glorify himself in the past and future, as +well as in the present. + +Still, the instinct to get rid of elders is a feature in unreclaimed +nature. It shows the point at which the imperative suggestions of +personal feeling stop,--the spot where Nature leaves a desert in order +that Art may plant a garden. "Why don't you give me a carriage, now?" +said an elderly wife to an elderly husband. "When we married, you would +scarcely let me touch the ground with my feet. I need a conveyance now +far more than I did then." "That was the period of my young enthusiasm," +replied the husband. The statement is one of unusual candor, but the +fact is one of not unusual occurrence. + +I think that in the present study I have come upon the true and simple +sense of the parable of the talents. Of every human good, the initial +half is bestowed by Nature. But the value of this half is not realized +until Labor shall have acquired the other half. Talents are one thing: +the use of them is another. The first depend on natural conditions; the +second, on moral processes. The greatest native facilities are useless +to mankind without the discipline of Art. So in an undisciplined life, +the good that is born with a man dwindles and decays. The sketch of +childhood, never filled out, fades in the objectless vacancy of manhood; +and from the man is "taken away even that which he seemeth to have." Not +judicial vengeance this, but inevitable consequence. + +Education should clearly formulate this problem: Given half of a man or +woman, to make a whole one. This, I need not say, is to be done by +development, not by addition. Kant says that knowledge grows _per intus +susceptionem_, and not _per appositionem_. The knowledges that you +adjoin to memory do not fill out the man unless you reach, in his own +mind, the faculty that generates thought. A single reason perceived by +him either in numbers or in speech will outweigh in importance all the +rules which memory can be taught to supply. With little skill and much +perseverance, Education hammers upon the man until somewhere she strikes +a nerve, and the awakened interest leads him to think out something for +himself. Otherwise, she leaves the man a polite muddle, who makes his +best haste to forget facts in forms, and who cancels the enforced +production of his years of pedagogy by a lifelong non-production. + +What Nature is able to give, she does give with a wealth and persistence +almost pathetic. The good gifts afloat in the world which never take +form under the appropriate influence, the good material which does not +build itself into the structures of society,--you and I grieve over +these sometimes. And here I come upon a doctrine which Fourier, I think, +does not state correctly. He maintains that inclinations which appear +vicious and destructive in society as at present constituted would +become highly useful in his ideal society. I should prefer to state the +matter thus: The given talent, not receiving its appropriate education, +becomes a negative instead of a positive, an evil instead of a good. +Here we might paraphrase the Scripture saying, and affirm that the stone +which is not built into the corner becomes a stumbling-block for the +wayfarer to fall over. So great mischief lies in those uneducated, +unconsecrated talents! This cordial companion becomes a sot. This +could-be knight remains a prize-fighter. This incipient mathematician +does not get beyond cards or billiards. This clever mechanic picks locks +and robs a bank, instead of endowing one. + +Modern theories of education do certainly point toward the study, by the +party educating, of the party appointed to undergo education. But this +education of others is a very complex matter, not to be accomplished +unless the educator educates himself in the light afforded him by his +pupils. The boys or girls committed to you may study what you will: be +sure, first of all, that you study them to your best ability. Education +in this respect is forced to a continual rectification of her processes. +The greatest power and resource are needed to awaken and direct the +energies of the young. No speech in Congress is so important as are the +lessons in the primary school; no pulpit has so great a field of labor +as the Sunday school. The Turkish government showed a cruel wisdom of +instinct when it levied upon Greece the tribute of Christian children to +form its corps of Janissaries. It recognized alike the Greek superiority +of race, and the invaluable opportunity of training afforded by +childhood. + +The work, then, of education demands an investigation of the elements +which Nature has granted to the individual, with the view of matching +that in which he is wanting with that which he has. I have heard of +lovers who, in plighting their faith, broke a coin in halves, whose +matching could only take place with their meeting. In true education as +in the love, these halves should correspond. + +"What hast thou?" is, then, the first question of the educator. His +second is, "What hast thou not?" The third is, "How can I help thee to +this last?" + +To my view, the man remains incomplete his whole life long. Most +incomplete is he, however, in the isolations of selfishness and of +solitude. Study is not necessarily solitude, but ideal society in the +highest grade in which human beings can enjoy it. It is, nevertheless, +dangerous to suffer the ideal to distance the real too largely. +Desk-dreamers end by being mental cripples. Divorce of this sort is not +wholesome, nor holy. Life is a perpetual marriage of real and ideal, of +endeavor and result. The solitary departure of physical death is +hateful, as putting asunder what God has joined together. + +Must I go hence as lonely as I was born? My mother brought me into the +infinite society: I go into the absolute dissociation. I go many steps +further back than I came,--to the _ur_ mother, the common matrix which +bears plants, animals, and human creatures. Where, oh where, shall I +find that infinite companionship which my life should have earned for +me? My friendship has been hundred-handed. My love has consumed the +cities of the plain, and built the heavenly Jerusalem. And I go, without +lover or friend, in a box, into an earth vault, from which I cannot even +turn into violets and primroses in any recognizable and conscious way. + +The completeness of our severance or deficiency may be, after all, the +determining circumstance of our achievement. What I would have is cut so +clean off from what I have as to leave no sense of wholeness in my +continuing as I am. Something of mine is mislaid or lost. It is more +mine than anything that I have, but where to find it? Who has it? I +reach for it under this bundle and under that. After my life's trial, I +find that I have pursued, but not possessed it. What I have gained of it +in the pursuit, others must realize. I bequeath, and cannot take it with +me. Did Dante regard the parchments of his "Divina Commedia" with a +sigh, foreseeing the long future of commentators and booksellers, he +himself absolving them beforehand by the quitclaim of death? You and I +may also grieve to part from certain unsold volumes, from certain +manuscripts of doubtful fate and eventuality. Oh! out of this pang of +death has come the scheme and achievement of immortality. "_Non omnis +moriar_." "I am the resurrection and the life." "It is sown a natural +body; it is raised a spiritual body." + +This tremendous leap and feat of the human soul across the bridge of +dark negativity would never have been made without the sharp spur and +bitter pang of death. "My life food for worms? No; never. I will build +and bestow it in arts and charities, spin it in roads and replicate it +in systems; but to be lopped from the great body of humanity, and decay +like a black, amputated limb? My manhood refuses. The infinite hope +within me generates another life, realizable in every moment of my +natural existence, whose moments are not in time, whose perfect joys are +not measured by variable duration. Thus every day can be to me full of +immortality, and the matter of my corporeal decease full of +indifference, as sure to be unconscious." + +I think this attainment the first, fundamental to all the others. We +console the child with a simple word about heaven. He is satisfied, and +feels its truth. How to attain this deathlessness is the next problem +whose solution he will ask of us. We point him to the plane on which he +will roll; for our life is a series of revolutions,--no straight-forward +sledding, but an acceleration by ideal weight and propulsion, through +which our line becomes a circle, and our circle itself a living wheel of +action, creating out of its mobile necessity a past and a future. + +The halfness of the individual is literally shown in the division of +sex. The Platonic fancy runs into an anterior process, by which what was +originally one has been made two. We will say that the two halves were +never historically, though always ideally, one. Here Art comes to the +assistance of Nature. The mere contrast of sex does not lift society out +of what is animal and slavish. The integrity of sex relation is not to +be found in a succession or simultaneity of mates, easily taken and as +easily discarded. This great value of a perfected life is to be had only +through an abiding and complete investment,--the relations of sex +lifted up to the communion of the divine, unified by the good faith of a +lifetime, enriched by a true sharing of all experience. This august +partnership is Marriage, one of the most difficult and delicate +achievements of society. Too sadly does its mockery afflict us in these +and other days. Either party, striving to dwarf the other, dwarfs +itself. This mystic selfhood, inexpressible in literal phrases, is at +once the supreme of Nature and the sublime of institutions. The ideal +human being is man and woman united on the ideal plane. The church long +presented and represented this plane. The state is hereafter to second +and carry out its suggestions. The ideal assembly, which we figure by +the communion of the saints, is a coming together of men and women in +the highest aims and views to which Humanity can be a party. + +Passing from immediate to projected consciousness, I can imagine +expression itself to spring from want. The sense of the incompleteness +of life in itself and in each of its acts calls for this effort to show, +at least, what life should be,--to vindicate the shortcoming of action +out of the fulness of speech. This that eats and sleeps is so little of +the man! These processes are so little what he understands by life! +Listen; let him tell you what life means to him. + +And so sound is differentiated into speech, and hammered into grammar, +and built up into literature--all of whose creations are acoustic +palaces of imagination. For the eye in reading is only the secondary +sense: the written images the spoken word. + +How the rhythm of the blood comes to be embodied in verse is more +difficult to trace. But the justification of Poetry is obvious. When you +have told the thing in prose, you have made it false by making it +literal. Poesy lies a little to complete the truth which Honesty lacks +skill to embody. Her artifices are subtle and wonderful. You glance +sideways at the image, and you see it. You look it full in the face, and +it disappears. + +The plastic arts, too. This beautiful face commands me to paint from it +a picture twice as beautiful. Its charm of Nature I cannot attain. My +painting must not try for the edge of its flesh and blood forms, the +evanescence of its color, the light and shadow of its play of feature. +But something which the beautiful face could not know of itself the +artist knows of it. That deep interpretation of its ideal significance +marks the true master, who is never a Chinese copyist. Some of the +portraits that look down upon you from the walls of Rome and of Florence +calmly explain to you a whole eternity. Their eyes seem to have seized +it all, and to hold it beyond decay. This is what Art gives in the +picture,--not simply what appears and disappears, but that which, being +interpreted, abides with us. + +Who shall say by what responsive depths the heights of architecture +measure themselves? The uplifted arches mirror the introspective soul. +So profoundly did I think, and plot, and contrive! So loftily must my +stone climax balance my cogitations! To such an amount of prayer allow +so many aisles and altars. The pillars of cloisters image the +brotherhood who walked in the narrow passages; straight, slender, paired +in steadfastness and beauty, there they stand, fair records of amity. +Columns of retrospect, let us hope that the souls they image did not +look back with longing upon the scenes which they were called upon to +forsake. + +Critical belief asks roomy enclosures and windows unmasked by artificial +impediments. It comes also to desire limits within which the voice of +the speaker can reach all present. Men must look each other in the face, +and construct prayer or sermon with the human alphabet. We are glad to +see the noble structures of older times maintained and renewed; but we +regret to see them imitated in our later day. (St. Peter's is, in all +save dimension, a church of Protestant architecture--so is St. Paul's, +of London.) The present has its own trials and agonies, its martyrdoms +and deliverances. With it, the old litanies must sink to sleep; the more +Christian of to-day efface the most Christian of yesterday. The very +attitude of saintship is changed. The practical piety of our time looks +neither up nor down, but straight before it, at the men and women to be +relieved, at the work to be done. Religion to-day is not "height nor +depth nor any other creature," but God with us. + +There is a mystic birth and Providence in the succession of the Arts; +yet are they designed to dwell together, each needing the aid of all. +People often speak of sculpture as of an art purely and distinctively +Grecian. But the Greeks possessed all the Arts, and more, too,--the +substratum of democracy and the sublime of philosophy. No natural +jealousy prevails in this happy household. The Arts are not wives, of +whom one must die before another has proper place. They are sisters, +whose close communion heightens the charm of all by the excellence of +each. The Christian unanimity is as favorable to Art as to human +society. + +We may say that the Greeks attained a great perfection in sculpture, and +have continued in this art to offer the models of the world. + +When the great period of Italian art attained its full splendor, it +seemed as if the frozen crystals of Greek sculpture had melted before +the fire of Christian inspiration. But this transformation, like the +transfiguration of Hindoo deities, did not destroy the anterior in its +issue. + +The soul of sculpture ripened into painting, but Sculpture, the +beautiful mother, still lived and smiled upon her glowing daughter. See +Michael Angelo studying the torso! See the silent galleries of the +Vatican, where Form holds you in one room, Color presently detaining you +in another! And what are our Raphaels, Angelos, making to-day? Be sure +they are in the world, for the divine spirit of Art never leaves itself +without a witness. But what is their noble task? They are moulding +character, embodying the divine in human culture and in human +institutions. The Greek sculptures indicate and continue a fitting +reverence for the dignity and beauty of the human form; but the +reverence for the human soul which fills the world to-day is a holier +and happier basis of Art. From it must come records in comparison with +which obelisk and pyramid, triumphal arch and ghostly cathedral, shall +seem the toys and school appliances of the childhood of the race. + +To return to our original problem,--how shall we attain the proper human +stature, how add the wanting half to the half which is given? + +I answer: By labor and by faith, in which there is nothing accidental or +arbitrary. The very world in which we live is but a form, whose spirit, +breathing through Nature and Experience, slowly creates its own +interpretation, adding a new testament to an old testament, lifting the +veil between Truth and Mercy, clasping the mailed hand of Righteousness +in the velvet glove of Peace. + +The spirit of Religion is the immanence of the divine in the human, the +image of the eternal in the transitory, of things infinite in things +limited. I have heard endless discussions and vexed statements of how +the world came out of chaos. From the Mosaic version to the last +rationalistic theory, I have been willing to give ear to these. It is a +subject upon which human ingenuity may exercise itself in its allowable +leisure. One thing concerns all of us much more; _viz._, how to get +heaven out of earth, good out of evil, instruction out of opportunity. + +This is our true life work. When we have done all in this that life +allows us, we have not done more than half, the other half lying beyond +the pale struggle and the silent rest. Oh! when we shall reach that +bound, whatever may be wanting, let not courage and hope forsake us. + + + + +Dante and Beatrice + + +DANTE and Beatrice--names linked together by holy affection and high +art. Ary Scheffer has shown them to us as in a beatific vision,--the +stern spirit which did not fear to confront the horrors of Hell held in +a silken leash of meekness by the gracious one through whose +intervention he passed unscathed through fire and torment, bequeathing +to posterity a record unique in the annals alike of literature and of +humanity. + +My first studies of the great poet are in the time long past, antedating +even that middle term of life which was for him the starting-point of a +new inspiration. Yet it seems to me that no part of my life, since that +reading, has been without some echo of the "Divine Comedy" in my mind. +In the walk through Hell, I strangely believe. Its warnings still +admonish me. I see the boat of Charon, with its mournful freight. I pass +before the judgment seat of Midas. I see the souls tormented in hopeless +flame. I feel the weight of the leaden cloaks. I shrink from the jar of +the flying rocks, hurled as weapons. For me, dark Ugolino still feeds +upon his enemy. Francesca still mates with her sad lover. + +From this hopeless abyss, I emerge to the kindlier pain of Purgatory, +whose end is almost Heaven. And of that blessed realm, my soul still +holds remembrance--of its solemn joy, of its unfolding revelation. The +vision of that mighty cross in which all the stars of the highest heaven +range themselves is before me, on each fair cluster the word "Cristo" +outshining all besides. + +Among my dearest recollections is that of an Easter sermon devised by me +for an ignorant black congregation in a far-off West Indian isle, in +which I told of this vision of the cross, and tried to make it present +to them. But this grateful remembrance which I have carried through so +many years does not regard the poet alone. In the world's great goods, +as in its great evils, a woman has her part. And this poem, which has +been such a boon to humanity, has for its central inspiration the memory +of a woman. + +In the prologue, already we hear of her. It is she who sends her poet +his poet-guide. When he shrinks from the painful progress which lies +before him, and deems the companionship even of Virgil an insufficient +pledge of safety, the words of his lady, repeated to him by his guide, +restore his sinking courage, and give him strength for his immortal +journey. + +Here are those words of Beatrice, spoken to Virgil, and by him brought +to Dante:-- + + O courteous shade of Mantua! thou whose fame + Yet lives and shall live long as Nature lasts! + A friend, not of my fortune, but myself, + On the wide desert in his road has met + Hindrance so great that he through fear has turned. + Assist him: so to me will comfort spring. + I who now bid thee on this errand forth + Am Beatrice. + +Who and what was Beatrice, whose message gave Dante strength to explore +the fearful depths of evil and its punishment? This we may learn +elsewhere. + +Dante, passionate poet in his youth, has left to posterity a work unique +of its sort,--the romance of a childish love which grew with the growth +of the lover. In his adolescence, its intensity at times overpowers his +bodily senses. The years that built up his towering manhood built up +along with it this ideal womanhood, which, whether realized or +realizable, or neither, was the highest and holiest essence which his +imagination could infuse into a human form. The sweet shyness of that +first peep at the Beautiful, of that first thrill of the master chord of +being, is rendered immortal for us by the candor of this great master. +We can see the shamefaced boy, taken captive by the dazzling vision of +Beatrice, veiling the features of his unreasonable passion, and retiring +to his own closet, there to hide his joy at having found on earth a +thing so beautiful. + +Dante's love for Beatrice dates from the completion of his own ninth +year, and the beginning of hers. He first sees her at a May party, at +the house of her father, Folco Polinari. Her apparel, he says, "was of a +most noble tincture, a subdued and becoming crimson; and she wore a +girdle and ornaments becoming her childish years." At the sight of her, +his heart began to beat with painful violence. A master thought had +taken possession of him, and that master's name was well known to him, +as how should it not have been in that day when, if ever in this world, +Love was crowned lord of all? Urged by this tyrant, from time to time, +to go in search of Beatrice, he beheld in her, he says, a demeanor so +praiseworthy and so noble as to remind him of a line of Homer, regarding +Helen of Troy:-- + + "From heaven she had her birth, and not from mortal clay." + +These glimpses of her must have been transient ones, for the poet tells +us that his second meeting, face to face, with Beatrice occurred nine +years after their first encounter. Her childish charm had now ripened +into maidenly loveliness. He beholds her arrayed in purest white, +walking between two noble ladies older than herself. "As she passed +along the street, she turned her eyes toward the spot where I, thrilled +through and through with awe, was standing; and in her ineffable +courtesy, which now hath its guerdon in everlasting life, she saluted +me in such gracious wise that I seemed in that moment to behold the +utmost bounds of bliss." + +He now begins to dream of her in his sleeping moments, and to rhyme of +her in his waking hours. In his first vision, Love appears with Beatrice +in his arms. In one hand he holds Dante's flaming heart, upon which he +constrains her to feed; after which, weeping, he gathers up his fair +burthen and ascends with her to Heaven. This dream seemed to Dante fit +to be communicated to the many famous poets of the time. He embodies it +in a sonnet, which opens thus:-- + + To every captive soul and gentle heart + Into whose sight shall come this song of mine, + That they to me its matter may divine, + Be greeting in Love's name, our master's, sent. + +And now begins for him a season of love-lorn pining and heart-sickness. +The intensity of the attraction paralyzes in him the power of +approaching its object. His friends notice his altered looks, and ask +the cause of this great change in him. He confesses that it is the +master passion, but so misleads them as to the person beloved, as to +bring upon another a scandal by his feigning. For this he is punished by +the displeasure of Beatrice, who, passing him in the street, refuses him +that salutation the very hope of which, he says, kindled such a flame +of charity within him as to make him forget and forgive every offence +and injury. + +Love now visits him in his sleep, in the guise of a youth arrayed in +garments of exceeding whiteness, and desires him to indite certain words +in rhyme, which, though not openly addressed to Beatrice, shall yet +assure her of what she partly knows,--that the poet's heart has been +hers from boyhood. The ballad which he composes in obedience to his +love's command is not a very literal rendering of his story. + +He now begins to have many conflicting thoughts about Love, two of which +constitute a very respectable antinomy. One of these tells him that the +empire of Love is good, because it turns the inclinations of its vassal +from all that is base. The opposite thought is: "The empire of Love is +not good, since the more absolute the allegiance of his vassal, the more +severe and woful are the straits through which he must perforce pass." + +These conflicting thoughts sought expression in a sonnet, of which I +will quote a part:-- + + Of Love, Love only, speaks my every thought; + And all so various they be that one + Bids me bow down to his dominion, + Another counsels me his power is naught. + One, flushed with hopes, is all with sweetness fraught; + Another makes full oft my tears to run. + + * * * * * + + Where, then, to turn, what think, I cannot tell. + Fain would I speak, yet know not what to say. + +While these uncertainties still possess him, Dante is persuaded by a +friend to attend a bridal festivity, where it is hoped that the sight of +much beauty may give him great pleasure. + +"Why have you brought me among these ladies?" he asks. "In order that +they may be properly attended," is the answer. + +Small attendance can Dante give upon these noble beauties. A fatal +tremor seizes him; he looks up and, beholding Beatrice, can see nothing +else. Nay, even of her his vision is marred by the intensity of his +feeling. The ladies first wonder at his agitation, and then make merry +over it, Beatrice apparently joining in their merriment. His friend, +chagrined at his embarrassment, now asks the cause of it; to which +question Dante replies: "I have set my foot in that part of life to pass +beyond which, with purpose to return, is impossible." + +With these words the poet departs, and in his chamber of tears persuades +himself that Beatrice would not have joined in the laughter of her +friends if she had really known his state of mind. Then follows, +naturally, a sonnet:-- + + With other ladies thou dost flaunt at me, + Nor thinkest, lady, whence doth come the change, + What fills mine aspect with a trouble strange + When I the wonder of thy beauty see. + If thou didst know, thou must, for charity, + Forswear the wonted rigor of thine eye. + +With this poetic utterance comes the plain prose question: "Seeing thou +dost present an aspect so ridiculous whenever thou art near this lady, +wherefore dost thou seek to come into her presence?" + +It takes two sonnets to answer this question. He is not the only person +who asks it. Meeting with some merry dames, he is thus questioned by her +of them who seems "most gay and pleasant of discourse:" "Unto what end +lovest thou this lady, seeing that her near presence overwhelms thee?" +In reply, he professes himself happy in having words wherewith to speak +the praises of his lady, and going thence, determines in his heart to +devote his powers of expression to that high theme. He leaves the +cramping sonnet now, and expands his thought in the _canzone_, of which +I need only repeat the first line:-- + + Ladies who have the intellect of Love. + +Why the course of this true love never did run smooth, we know not. +Beatrice, at the proper age, was given in marriage to Messer Simone dei +Bardi. It is thought that she was wedded to him before the occasion on +which Dante's love-lorn appearance moved her to a mirth which may have +been feigned. Still, the thought of her continues to be his greatest +possession, and he and his master, Love, hold many arguments together +concerning the bliss and bane of this high fancy. He has great comfort +in the general esteem in which his lady is held, and is proud and glad +when those who see her passing in the street hasten to get a better view +of her. He sees the controlling power of her loveliness in its influence +on those around her, who are not thrown into the shade, but brightened, +by her radiance. + + Such virtue rare her beauty hath, in sooth + No envy stirs in other ladies' breast; + But in its light they walk beside her, dressed + In gentleness, and love, and noble truth. + Her looks whate'er they light on seem to bless; + Nor her alone make lovely to the view, + But all her peers through her have honor, too. + +Dante was still engaged in interpreting the merits of Beatrice to the +world when that most gentle being met the final conflict, and received +the crown of immortality. His first feeling is that Florence is made +desolate by her loss. He can think of no words but those with which the +prophet Jeremiah bewailed the spoiling of Jerusalem: "How doth the city +sit desolate!" The princes of the earth, he thinks, should learn the +loss of this more than princess. He speaks of her in sonnet and +_canzone_. + +The passing of a band of pilgrims in the street suggests to him the +thought that they do not know of his sweet saint, nor of her death, and +that if they did, they would perforce stop to weep with him:-- + + Tell me, ye pilgrims, who so thoughtful go, + Musing, mayhap, on what is far away, + Come ye from climes so far, as your array + And look of foreign nurture seem to shew, + That from your eyes no tears of pity flow, + As ye along our mourning city stray, + Serene of countenance and free, as they + Who of her deep disaster nothing know? + Oh! she hath lost her Beatrice, her saint, + And what of her her co-mates can reveal + Must drown with tears even strangers' hearts, perforce. + +On the first anniversary of his lady's death, as he sits absorbed in +thoughts of her, he sketches the figure of an angel upon his tablets. +Turning presently from his work, he sees near him some gentlemen of his +acquaintance, who are watching the movements of his pencil. He answers +the interruption thus: + + Into my lonely thoughts that noble dame + Whom Love bewails, had entered in the hour + When you, my friends, attracted by his power, + To see the task that did employ me came. + +Many a sigh of dole escapes his heart, he says, + + But they which came with sharpest pang were those + Which said: "O intellect of noble mould, + A year to-day it is since thou didst seek the skies." + +We may find, perhaps, a more wonderful proof of his constancy in his +stout-hearted resistance to the charms of a beautiful lady who regards +him with that intense pity which is akin to love. To her he says: + + Never was Pity's semblance, or Love's hue + So wondrously in face of lady shown, + That tenderly gave ear to Sorrow's moan + Or looked on woful eyes, as shows in you. + +To this new attraction he is on the point of surrendering, when the +vision of Beatrice rises before him, as he first saw her,--robed in +crimson, and bright with the angelic beauty of childhood. All other +thoughts are put to flight by this, and with renewed faith he devotes +himself to the memory of Beatrice, hoping to say of her some day "that +which hath never yet been said of any lady." + +All who have been lovers--and who has not?--must feel, I think, that the +"Vita Nuova" is the romance of a true love. The Beatrice of the "Divina +Commedia" is this love, and much more. Dante has had a deep and availing +experience of life. Statesman and scholar, he has laid his fiery soul +upon the world's great anvil, where Fate, with heavy hammering and fiery +blowing, has wrought out of him a stern, sad man, so hunted and exiled +that the ways of Imagination alone are open to him. In its domain, he +calls around him the majestic shadows of those with whom his life has +made him familiar. For him, the way to Heaven lies through Hell and +Purgatory. Into these regions, the blessed Beatrice cannot come. She +sends, however, the poet shade, who seems to her most fit to be his +guide. The classic refinement makes evident to him the vulgarity of sin +and the logic of its consequences. He surveys the eternal, hopeless +punishment, and passes through the cleansing fires of Purgatory, at +whose outer verge, a fair vision comes to bless him. Beatrice, in a +mystical car, her beauty at first concealed by a veil of flowers which +drop from the hands of attendant angels, speaks to him in tones which +move his penitential grief. + +The high love of his youth thus appears to him as accusing Conscience, +which stands to question him with the offended majesty of a loving +mother. Through her rebukes, precious in their bitterness, he attains to +that view of his own errors without which it would have been impossible +for him to forsake them. It is a real orthodox "repentance and +conviction of sin" with which the religious renewal of his life begins. +Tormented by this cruel retrospect, the poet is mercifully bathed in the +waters of forgetfulness, and then, being made a new creature, regains +the society of Beatrice. + +Seated at the root of the great Tree of Humanity, she bids him take note +of the prophetic vision which symbolizes the history of the church. Of +the sanctity of the tree, she thus admonishes him: + + This whoso robs, + This whoso plucks, with blasphemy of deed + Sins against God, who for His use alone + Creating, hallowed it. + +Dante drinks now of a stream whose sweetness can never satiate, and from +that holy wave returns, + + Regenerate, + Pure, and made apt for mounting to the stars. + +It appears to me quite simple and natural that the image of the poet's +earthly love, long lost from physical sense, should prompt the awakening +of his higher nature, which, obscured, as he confesses, by the disorders +of his mortal life, asserts itself with availing authority when +Beatrice, the beloved, becomes present to his mind. All progress, all +heavenly learning, is thenceforth associated with her. High as he may +climb, she always leads him. Where he passes as a stranger, she is at +home. Where he poorly guesses, she wholly knows. Nor does he part from +her until he has attained the highest point of spiritual vision, where +he sees her throned and crowned in immortal glory, and above her, the +lovely one of Heaven,--the Virgin Mother of Christ. What he sees after +this, he says, cannot be told with mortal tongue. + + Here vigor failed the towering fantasy, + But yet the will rolled onward, like a wheel, + In even motion, by the love impelled + That moves the sun in heaven and all the stars. + +Two opposite points in great authors give us pleasure; _viz._, the +originality of their talent or genius, and the catholicity of their +sentiments and interest,--in other words, their likeness and their +unlikeness to the average of humanity. We are delighted to find Plato at +once so modern and so ancient, his prevision and prophecy needing so +little adaptation to make them germane to the wants of our own or of any +other time, his grasp of apprehension and comparison so peculiar to +himself, so unrivalled by any thinker of any time. In like manner, the +medival pictures drawn by Dante delight us, and the bold daring of his +imagination. At the same time, the perfectly sound and rational common +sense of many of his utterances seems familiar from its accordance with +the soundest criticism of our own time:-- + + Florence within her ancient circle set, + Remained in sober, modest quietness. + Nor chains had she, nor crowns, nor women decked + In gay attire, with splendid cincture bound, + More to be gazed at than the form itself. + Not yet the daughter to the father brought + Fear from her birth, the marriage time and dower + Not yet departing from their fitting measure. + Nor houses had she, void of household life. + Sardanapalus had not haply shown + The deeds which may be hid by chamber walls. + I saw Bellincion Berti go his way + With bone and leather belted. From the glass + His lady moved, no paint upon her face. + I saw the Lords of Norti and del Vecchio content, + Their household dames engaged with spool and spindle. + +The theory of the good old time, we see, is not a modern invention. + +Dante inherits the great heart of chivalry, wise before its time in the +uplifting of Woman. The wonderful worship of the Virgin Mother, in which +are united the two poles of womanhood, completed the ideal of the Divine +Human, and cast a new glory upon the sex. Can we doubt that knight and +minstrel found a true inspiration in the lady of their heart? A mere +pretence or affection is a poor thing to fight for or to sing for. Men +will not imperil their lives for what they know to be a lie. + +This newly awakened reverence for woman--shall we call it a race +characteristic? It was a golden gift to any race. Plato's deep doctrine +that all learning is a reminiscence may avail us in questioning this. +The human race does not carry the bulk of its knowledge in its hand. +Busy with its tools and toys, it forgets its ancestral heirlooms, and +leaves unexplored the legacy of the past. But in some mystical way, the +treasures lost from remembrance turn up and come to sight again. In the +far Caucasus, from which we came, there were glimpses of this ideal wife +and mother. + +This history, whether real or imaginary, or both, suggests to me the +question whether the love which brings together and binds together men +and women can in any way typify the supreme affections of the soul? That +it was supposed to do so in medival times is certain. The sentimental +agonies of troubadours and minstrels make it evident. Even the latest +seedy sprout of chivalry, Don Quixote, shows us this. Wishing to start +upon a noble errand, the succor of oppressed humanity, his almost first +requisite is a "lady of his heart," who, in his case, is a mere lay +figure upon which he drapes the fantastic weaving of his imagination. + +Another question, like unto the first, is this,--whether the heroic mode +of loving is or is not a lost art in our days. + +That Plato and Socrates should busy themselves with it, that mystics and +philosophers should find such a depth of interest in the attraction +which one nature exerts upon another, and that, _per contra_, in our +time, this mystical attraction should flatten, or, as singers say, flat +out into a decorous observance of rules, assisting a mutual +endurance--what does it mean? Is Pan dead, and are the other gods dead +with him? + +In an age widely, if not deeply, critical, we lose sight of the +primitive affections and temperament of our race. Affection's self +becomes merged in opinion. We contemplate, we compare, we are not able +to covet any but surface distinctions, surface attractions. Even the +poets who give us the expression of a lively participation in human +instincts are disowned by us. Wordsworth is chosen, and Byron is +discarded. We are not too rich with both of them. Inspired Browning--for +the man who wrote "Pippa" and "Saul" was inspired--loses himself and his +music in the dismal swamp of metaphysical speculation. Just at present, +it seems to me that the world has lost one of its noblest leadings; +_viz._, the desire for true companionship. Arid love of pleasure, more +arid worship of wealth, paralyze those higher powers of the soul which +take hold on friendship and on love. To know those only who can advance +your personal objects, be these amusement or ambition; to marry at +auction, going, going, for so much,--how can we who have but one human +life to live so cheat ourselves out of its real rights and privileges? + +Is this a pathological symptom in the body social, produced by a surfeit +in the direction of inclination? One might think so, since asceticism +has no joylessness comparable to that of the blasted _rou_ or utter +worldling. In France, where the bent of romantic literature has been the +following of inclination,--from George Sand, who consecrates it, down to +the latest scrofulous scribbler, who outrages it,--on the banks of this +turbid stream of literature, one constantly meets with the apples of +Sodom. "There is no other fruit," say the venders. "You cultivate none +other," is the fitting reply. + +The world of thought is ever full of problems as contradictory of each +other as the antinomies of which I just now made a passing mention. The +right interpretation of these riddles is of great moment in our +spiritual and intellectual life. The ages and ons of human experience +tend, on the whole, to a gradual unification of persuasion and +conviction on the part of thinking beings, and much that a prophet +breathes into a hopeless blank acquires meaning in the light of +succeeding centuries. + +This great problem of love continues to be full of contradictory aspects +to those who would explore it. We distinguish between divine love and +human love, but have yet to decide whether Love absolute is divine or +human; for this deity is known to us from all time in two opposite +shapes,--as a destructive and as a constructive god. He unmakes the man, +he unmakes the woman, sucks up precious years of human life like a +sponge, sets Troy ablaze, maddens harmless Io with a stinging gad-fly. + +On the other hand, where Love is not, nothing is. Luxurious Solomon +praises a dinner of herbs enriched by his presence. All poetry, all +doctrine, is founded upon human affection assumed as essential to life, +nay, as life itself; for when love of life and its objects exists not, +the vital flame flickers feebly, and expires early. In ethics, social +and religious, what contradictions do we encounter under this head! From +all inordinate and sinful affections, good Lord, deliver us! is a good +prayer. But how shall we treat the case when there are no affections at +all? We might add a clause to our litany,--From lovelessness and all +manner of indifference, good Lord, deliver us! What more direful +sentence than to say that a person has no heart? What sin more severely +punished than any extravagant action of this same heart? + +These wonders of lofty sentiment and high imagination are precious +subjects of study. The construction of a great poem, of which the +interest is at once intense, various, and sustained, seems to us a work +more appropriate to other days than to our own. I remember in my youth a +fluent critic who was fond of saying that if Milton had lived in this +day of the world, he would not have thought of writing an epic poem. To +which another of the same stripe would reply: "If he did write such a +poem in these days, nobody would read it." I wonder how long the frisky +impatience of our youth will think it worth while to follow even Homer +in his long narratives. + +More than this sustained power of the imagination, does the heroic in +sentiment seem to decrease and to be wanting among us. Those lofty views +of human affection and relation which we find in the great poets seem +almost foreign to the civilization of to-day. I find in modern +scepticism this same impatience of weighty thoughts. He who believes +only in the phenomenal universe does not follow a conviction. A fatal +indolence of mind prevents him from following any lead which threatens +fatigue and difficult labor. Instead of a temple for the Divine, our man +of to-day builds a commodious house for himself,--at best, a club-house +for his set or circle. And the worst of it is, that he teaches his son +to do the same thing. + +The social change which I notice to-day as a decline in attachments +simply personal is partly the result of a political change which I, for +one, cannot deplore. The idea of the state and of society as bodies in +which each individual has a direct interest gives to men and women of +to-day an enlarged sphere of action and of instruction. The absolutely +universal coincidence of the real advantage of the individual with that +of the community, always true in itself, and neither now nor at any time +fully comprehended, gives the fundamental tone to thought and education +to-day. The result is a tendency to generality, to publicity, and a +neglect of those relations into which external power and influence do +not enter. The action of mind upon mind, of character upon character, +outside of public life, is intense, intimate, insensible. Temperament is +most valued nowadays for its effect upon multitudes. We wish to be +recognized as moving in a wide and exalted sphere. The belle in the +ball-room is glad to have it reported that the Prince of Wales admires +her. The lady who should grace a lady's sphere pines for the stage and +the footlights. Actions and appearances are calculated to be seen of +men. + +I say no harm of this tendency, which has enfranchised me and many +others from the cruel fetters of a narrow and personal judgment. It is +safe and happy to have the public for a final court of appeal, and to be +able, when an issue is misjudged or distorted, to call upon its great +heart to say where the right is, and where the wrong. But let us, in our +panorama of wide activities, keep with all the more care these pictures +of spirits that have been so finely touched within the limits of +Nature's deepest reserve and modesty. This medival did not go to +dancing-school nor to Harvard College. He could not talk of the fellows +and the girls. But from his early childhood, he holds fast the tender +remembrance of a beautiful and gracious face. The thought of it, and of +the high type of woman which it images, is to him more fruitful of joy +and satisfaction than the amusements of youth or the gaieties of the +great world. Death removes this beloved object from his sight, but not +from his thoughts. Years pass. His genius reaches its sublime maturity. +He becomes acquainted with camps and courts, with the learning and the +world of his day. But when, with all his powers, he would build a +perfect monument to Truth, he takes her perfect measure from the hand of +his child-love. The world keeps that work, and will keep it while +literature shall last. It has many a subtle passage, many a wonderful +picture, but at its height, crowned with all names divine, he has +written, as worthy to be remembered with these, the name of Beatrice. + +PRINTED AT THE EVERETT PRESS BOSTON MASS. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Is Polite Society Polite?, by Julia Ward Howe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IS POLITE SOCIETY POLITE? *** + +***** This file should be named 34271-8.txt or 34271-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/7/34271/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 + + +Title: Is Polite Society Polite? + and Other Essays + +Author: Julia Ward Howe + +Release Date: November 10, 2010 [EBook #34271] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IS POLITE SOCIETY POLITE? *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 417px;"> +<a href="images/ill_julia_ward_howe.jpg"> +<img src="images/ill_julia_ward_howe_sml.jpg" width="417" height="550" alt="Photo of Julia Ward Howe." title="" /></a> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 417px;"> +<a href="images/ill_howe_signature.png"> +<img src="images/ill_howe_signature_sml.png" width="417" height="131" alt="Signed, +Yours very cordially, +Julia Ward Howe." title="" /></a> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="bbox"> +<div class="bbox2"> +<h1>Is Polite Society Polite? +<br /><small>And Other Essays</small> +<br /><small><small>BY</small></small> +<br /><small>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ULIA</small> W<small>ARD</small> H<small>OWE</small></small></h1> +</div> + +<div class="bbox2"> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75px; +padding:3%;"> +<img src="images/ill_coloph.png" width="75" height="110" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="bbox2"> +<p class="cb">B<small>OSTON</small> & N<small>EW</small> Y<small>ORK</small><br /> +Lamson, Wolffe, & Company<br /> +1895</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="c">Copyright, 1895, +<br />By Lamson, Wolffe, & Co.<br /> +All rights reserved</p> + +<h3><a name="Preface" id="Preface"></a>Preface</h3> + +<p class="text nind">I REMEMBER that, quite late in the fifties, I mentioned to Theodore +Parker the desire which I began to feel to give living expression to my +thoughts, and to lend to my written words the interpretation of my +voice.</p> + +<p>Parker, who had taken a friendly interest in the publication of my first +volumes, "Passion Flowers" and "Words for the Hour," gave his approval +also to this new project of mine. "The great desire of the age," he +said, "is for vocal expression. People are scarcely satisfied with the +printed page alone: they crave for their instruction the living voice +and the living presence."</p> + +<p>At the time of which I write, no names of women were found in the lists +of lecture courses. Lucy Stone had graduated from Oberlin, and was +beginning to be known as an advocate of temperance, and as an +antislavery speaker. Lucretia Mott had carried her eloquent pleading +outside the limits of her Quaker belonging. Antoinette Brown Blackwell +occupied the pulpit of a Congregational church, while Abby Kelly Foster +and the Grimke Sisters stood forth as strenuous pleaders for the +abolition of slavery. Of these ladies I knew little at the time of which +I speak, and my studies and endeavors occupied a field remote from that +in which they fought the good fight of faith. My thoughts ran upon the +importance of a helpful philosophy of life, and my heart's desire was to +assist the efforts of those who sought for this philosophy.</p> + +<p>Gradually these wishes took shape in some essays, which I read to +companies of invited friends. Somewhat later, I entered the lecture +field, and journeyed hither and yon, as I was invited.</p> + +<p>The papers collected in the present volume have been heard in many parts +of our vast country. As is evident, they have been written for popular +audiences, with a sense of the limitations which such audiences +necessarily impose. With the burthen of increasing years, the freedom of +locomotion naturally tends to diminish, and I must be thankful to be +read where I have in other days been heard. I shall be glad indeed if it +may be granted to these pages to carry the message which I myself have +been glad to bear,—the message of the good hope of humanity, despite +the faults and limitations of individuals.</p> + +<p>That hope casts its light over the efforts of years that are past, and +gilds for me, with ineffaceable glow, the future of our race.</p> + +<p>The lecture, "Is Polite Society Polite?" was written for a course of +lectures given some years ago by the New England Women's Club of Boston. +"Greece Revisited" was first read before the Town and Country Club of +Newport, R.I. "Aristophanes" and "Dante and Beatrice" were written for +the Summer School of Philosophy at Concord, Mass. "The Halfness of +Nature" was first read before the Boston Radical Club. "The Salon in +America" was written for the Contemporary Club in Philadelphia.</p> + +<h3><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#Preface">Preface</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#Is_Polite_Society_Polite">Is Polite Society Polite</a> </td><td align="left">Page <a href="#page_003">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#Paris">Paris</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_037">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#Greece_Revisited">Greece Revisited</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_077">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#The_Salon_in_America">The Salon in America</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_113">113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#Aristophanes">Aristophanes</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_133">133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#The_Halfness_of_Nature">The Halfness of Nature</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_161">161</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#Dante_and_Beatrice">Dante and Beatrice</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_181">181</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="Is_Polite_Society_Polite" id="Is_Polite_Society_Polite"></a>Is Polite Society Polite?</h3> + +<p class="text nind">WHY do we ask this question? For reasons which I shall endeavor to make +evident.</p> + +<p>The life in great cities awakens a multitude of ambitions. Some people +are very unscrupulous in following these ambitions, attaining their +object either by open force and pushing, or by artful and cunning +manœuvres. And so it will happen that in the society which considers +itself entitled to rank above all other circles one may meet with people +whose behavior is guided by no sincere and sufficient rule of conduct. +Observing their shortcomings, we may stand still and ask, Are these +people what they should be? Is polite society polite?</p> + +<p>For this society, which is supposed to be nothing if not polite, does +assume, in every place, to set up the standard of taste and to regulate +the tone of manners. It aims to be what Hamlet once was in Ophelia's +eyes—"the glass of fashion and the mould of form." Its forms and +fashions change, of course, from age to age, and yet it is a steadfast +institution in the development of human civilization.</p> + +<p>I should be sorry to overstate its shortcomings, but I wish I might help +it to feel its obligations and to fulfil them.<a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a></p> + +<p>What shall we accept in the ordinary sense of men as politeness? Shall +we consider it a mere surface polish—an attitude expressive of +deference—corresponding to no inward grace of good feeling? Will you +like to live with the person who, in the great world, can put on fine +manners, but who, in the retirement of home, manifests the vulgarity of +a selfish heart and an undisciplined temper?</p> + +<p>No, you will say; give me for my daily companions those who always wear +the best manners they have. For manners are not like clothes: you can +mend them best when you have them on.</p> + +<p>We may say at the outset that sincerity is the best foundation upon +which to build the structure of a polite life. The affectation of +deference does not impose upon people of mature experience. It carries +its own contradiction with it. When I hear the soft voice, a little too +soft, I look into the face to see whether the two agree. But I need +scarcely do that. The voice itself tells the story, is sincere or +insincere. Flattery is, in itself, an offence against politeness. It is +oftenest administered to people who are already suffering the +intoxication of vanity. When I see this, I wish that I could enforce a +prohibitory ordinance against it, and prosecute those who use it mostly +to serve their own selfish purposes. But people can be trained never to +offer nor to receive this dangerous drug of<a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a> flattery, and I think that, +in all society which can be called good, it becomes less and less the +mode to flavor one's dishes with it.</p> + +<p>Having spoken of flattery, I am naturally led to say a word about its +opposite, detraction.</p> + +<p>The French have a witty proverb which says that "the absent are always +in the wrong," and which means that the blame for what is amiss is +usually thrown upon those who are not present to defend themselves. It +seems to me that the rules of politeness are to be as carefully observed +toward the absent as toward those in whose company we find ourselves. +The fact that they cannot speak in their own defence is one which should +appeal to our nicest sense of honor. Good breeding, or its reverse, is +as much to be recognized in the way in which people speak of others as +in the way in which they speak to them.</p> + +<p>Have we not all felt the tone of society to be lowered by a low view of +the conduct and motives of those who are made the subjects of +discussion?</p> + +<p>Those unfortunate men and women who delight in talk of this sort always +appear to me degraded by it. No matter how clever they may be, I avoid +their society, which has in it a moral malaria most unwholesome in +character.</p> + +<p>I am glad to say that, although frivolous society constantly shows its +low estimate of human nature, I yet think that the gay immolation of +character<a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a> which was once considered a legitimate source of amusement +has gone somewhat out of fashion. Sheridan's "School for Scandal" gives +us some notion of what this may once have been. I do think that the +world has grown more merciful in later years, and that even people who +meet only for their own amusement are learning to seek it without +murdering the reputation of their absent friends.</p> + +<p>There is a mean impulse in human nature which leads some people to toss +down the reputation of their fellows just as the Wall Street bear tosses +down the value of the investments whose purchase he wishes to command at +his own price. But in opposition to this, God has set within us a power +which reacts against such base estimates of mankind. The utterance of +this false tone often calls out the better music, and makes us admire +the way in which good springs up in the very footsteps of evil and +effaces them as things of nought.</p> + +<p>Does intercourse with great society make us more or less polite? +Elizabeth Browning says:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">First time he kissed me he but only kissed</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The fingers of this hand wherewith I write,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Which ever thence did grow more clean and white,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Slow to world greetings, quick with its "Oh, list,"</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">When the angels speak.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>This clearly expresses the sanctification of a new and noble interest. +How is it with those on whom<a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a> the great world has set its seal of +superior position, which is derived from a variety of sources, among +which wealth, recognized talent, and high descent are the most +important?</p> + +<p>I must say in answer that this social recognition does not affect all +people in the same manner. One passes the ordeal unscathed, is as fresh +in affection, as genuine in relation and intercourse, as faithful to +every fine and true personal obligation in the fiery furnace of wealth +and fashion and personal distinction as he or she was in the simple +village or domestic life, in which there was no question of greatness or +smallness, all being of nearly the same dimensions.</p> + +<p>The great world may boast of its jewels which no furnace blast can melt +or dim, but they are rare. Madame de Stal and Madame Rcamier seem to +have been among these undimmed gems; so, also, was Madame de Svign, +with a heart warm with love for her children and her friends in all the +dazzle of a brilliant court. So I have seen a vessel of the finest +glass, thin as paper, which a chemist left over his spirit-lamp, full of +boiling liquid, and, returning the next day, found uninjured, so perfect +was the temper of the glass. But for one such unspoiled world-favorite, +I can show you twenty men and women who, at the first lift of fortune, +forsake their old friends, neglect their near relations, and utterly +ignore their poor ones.<a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a></p> + +<p>Romance is full of such shameful action; and let me say here, in +passing, that in my opinion Romance often wears off our horror of what +is wicked and heartless by showing it as a permanent and recognized +element of society. This is the reverse of what it should do. But in +these days it so exceeds its office in the hunt after the exhausted +susceptibilities of a novel-reading public that it really thumps upon +our aversion to vice until it wears it out.</p> + +<p>De Balzac's novel called "Father Goriot" tells the story of a man of +humble origin who grows rich by trade, educates his daughters for +fashionable life, marries them to men of condition, portions them +abundantly, and is in return kept carefully out of what the world knows +of their lives. They seek him only when they want money, which they +always do, in spite of the rich dowry settled on them at their marriage. +<i>Father Goriot</i> sells his last piece of silver to help them, and dies in +a low boarding-house, tended by the charity of strangers, tormented to +the last by the bickering of his children, but not cheered for one +moment by their affection.</p> + +<p>I have heard on good authority that people of wealth and position in our +large cities sometimes deposit their aged and helpless parents in +asylums where they may have all that money can buy for them, but nothing +of what gratitude and affection<a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a> should give them. How detestable such a +course is I need not say; my present business is to say that it is far +from polite.</p> + +<p>Apropos of this suggestion, I remember that I was once invited to read +this essay to a village audience in one of the New England States. My +theme was probably one quite remote from the general thought of my +hearers. As I went on, their indifference began to affect me, and my +thought was that I might as well have appealed to a set of wooden +tenpins as to those who were present on that occasion.</p> + +<p>In this, I afterwards learned that I was mistaken. After the conclusion +of the evening's exercise, a young man, well known in the community, was +heard to inquire urgently where he could find the lecturer. Friends +asked, what did he want of her? He replied: "Well, I did put my brother +in the poorhouse, and now that I have heard Mrs. Howe, I suppose that I +must take him out."</p> + +<p>Need I say that I felt myself amply repaid for the trouble I had taken? +On the other hand, this same theme was once selected from my list by a +lecture association in a small town buried in the forests of the far +West. As I surveyed my somewhat home-spun audience, I feared that a +discussion of the faults of polite society would interest my hearers +very little. I was surprised after my reading to hear, from more than +one of those present, that this<a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a> lecture appeared to them the very thing +that was most needed in that place.</p> + +<p>There is to my mind something hideous in the concealment and disregard +of real connections which involve real obligations.</p> + +<p>If you are rich, take up your poor relations. Assist them at least to +find the way of earning a competence. Use the power you have to bring +them within the sphere of all that is refining. You can embellish the +world to them and them to the world. Do so, and you will be respected by +those whose respect is valuable. On the contrary, repudiate those who +really belong to you and the mean world itself will laugh at you and +despise you. It is clever and cunning enough to find out your secret, +and when it has done so, it will expose you pitilessly.</p> + +<p>I have known men and women whose endeavors and successes have all been +modelled upon the plane of social ambition. Starting with a good +common-school education, which is a very good thing to start with, they +have improved opportunities of culture and of desirable association +until they stand conspicuous, far away from the sphere of their village +or homemates, having money to spend, able to boast of wealthy +acquaintances, familiar guests at fashionable entertainments.</p> + +<p>Now sometimes these individuals wander so far away from their original +belongings that these latter are easily lost sight of. And I assure you +that they<a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a> are left in the dark, in so far as concerns the actions of +the friends we are now considering. Many a painstaking mother at a +distance, many a plain but honest old father, many a sister working in a +factory to help a brother at college, is never spoken of by such +persons, and is even thought of with a blush of shame and annoyance.</p> + +<p>Oh! shame upon the man or woman of us who is guilty of such behavior as +this! These relatives are people to be proud of, as we should know if we +had the heart to know what is true, good, and loyal. Even were it not +so, were your relative a criminal, never deny the bond of nature. Stand +beside him in the dock or at the gallows. You have illustrious precedent +for such association in one whom men worship, but forget to imitate.</p> + +<p>Let me here relate a little story of my early years. I had a nursery +governess when I was a small child. She came from some country town, and +probably regarded her position in my father's family as a promotion. One +evening, while we little folks gathered about her in our nursery, she +wept bitterly. "What is the matter?" we asked; and she took me up in her +lap, and said: "My poor old father came here to see me to-day, and I +would not see him. I bade them tell him that he had mistaken the house, +and he went away, and as he went I saw him looking up at the windows so +wistfully!" Poor woman! We wept with her, feeling that this<a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a> was indeed +a tragical event, and not knowing what she could do to make it better.</p> + +<p>But could I see that woman now, I would say to her: "If you were serving +the king at his table, and held his wine-cup in your hand, and your +father stood without, asking for you, you should set down the cup, and +go out from the royal presence to honor your father, so much the more if +he is poor, so much the more if he is old." And all that is really +polite in polite society would say so too.</p> + +<p>Now this action which I report of my governess corresponds to something +in human nature, and to something which polite society fosters.</p> + +<p>For polite society bases itself upon exclusions. In this it partly +appeals to that antagonism of our nature through which the desire to +possess something is greatly exaggerated by the difficulty of becoming +possessed of it. If every one can come to your house, no one, you think, +will consider it a great object of desire to go there. Theories of +supply and demand come in here. People would gladly destroy things that +give pleasure, in order to enhance their value in the hands of the few.</p> + +<p>I once heard a lady, herself quite new in society, say of a Parisian +dame who had shown her some attention: "Ah! the trouble with Madame—— +is that she is too good-natured. She entertains everybody." "Indeed," +thought I, "if she had<a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a> been less good-natured, is it certain that she +would have entertained you?"</p> + +<p>But of course the justifiable side of exclusion is choice, selection of +one's associates. No society can confer the absolute right or power to +make this selection. Tiresome and unacceptable people are everywhere +entangled in relations with wise and agreeable ones. There is no bore +nor torment who has not the right to incommode some fireside or assembly +with his or her presence. You cannot keep wicked, foolish, tiresome, +ugly people out of society, however you and your set may delight in good +conduct, grace, and beauty. You cannot keep poor people out of the +society of the rich. Those whom you consider your inferiors feed your +cherished stomach, and drape your sacred person, and stand behind your +chair at your feasts, judging your manners and conversation.</p> + +<p>Let us remember Mr. Dickens's story of "Little Dorrit," in which <i>Mr. +Murdle</i>, a new-rich man, sitting with guests at his own sumptuous table, +is described as dreading the disapprobation of his butler. This he might +well do, as the butler was an expert, well aware of the difference +between a gentleman of breeding and education and a worldling, lifted by +the possession of wealth alone.</p> + +<p>Very genial in contrast with this picture appears the response of +Abraham Lincoln, who, on being<a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a> asked by the head waiter at his first +state dinner whether he would take white wine or red, replied: "I don't +know; which would you?"</p> + +<p>Well, what can society do, then? It can decree that those who come of a +certain set of families, that those who have a certain education, and +above all, a certain income, shall associate together on terms of +equality. And with this decree there comes to foolish human nature a +certain irrational desire to penetrate the charmed circle so formed.</p> + +<p>The attempt to do this encounters resistance; there is pushing in and +shoving out,—coaxing and wheedling on the one hand, and cold denial or +reluctant assent on the other. So a fight is perpetually going on in the +realm of fashion. Those not yet recognized are always crowding in. Those +first in occupation are endeavoring to crowd these out. In the end, +perseverance usually conquers.</p> + +<p>But neither of these processes is polite—neither the crowding in nor +the crowding out—and this last especially, as many of those who are in +were once out, and are trying to keep other people from doing what they +themselves have been very glad to do. In Mr. Thackeray's great romance, +"The Newcomes," young <i>Ethel Newcome</i> asks her grandmother, <i>Lady Kew</i>, +"Well then, grandmother, who is of a good family?" And the old lady +replies: "Well, my dear, mostly no one." But I would<a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a> reply: Mostly +every one, if people are disposed to make their family good.</p> + +<p>There is an obvious advantage in society's possession of a recognized +standard of propriety in general deportment; but the law of good +breeding should nowhere be merely formal, nor should its application be +petty and captious. The externals of respectability are most easily aped +when they are of the permanent and stereotyped kind, and may be used to +conceal gross depravity; while the constant, fresh, gracious inspiration +of a pure, good heart is unmistakable, and cannot be successfully +counterfeited.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, young persons should be desirous to learn the opinion +of older ones as to what should and should not be done on the ground of +general decorum and good taste. Youth is in such hot haste to obtain +what it desires that it often will not wait to analyze the spirit of an +occasion, but classes opposition to its inclinations as prejudice and +antiquated superstition. But the very individual who in youth thus +scoffs at restraint often pays homage to it in later days, having +meanwhile ascertained the weighty reasons which underlie the whole law +of reserve upon which the traditions of good society are based.</p> + +<p>How much trouble, then, might it save if the young people, as a rule, +were to come to the elders<a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a> and ask at least why this thing or that is +regarded as unbecoming or of doubtful propriety. And how much would it +assist this good understanding if the elders, to the last, were careful +to keep up with the progress of the time, examining tendencies, keeping +a vigilant eye upon fashions, books, and personages, and, above all, +encouraging the young friends to exercise their own powers of +discrimination in following usages and customs, or in departing from +them.</p> + +<p>This last suggestion marks how far the writer of these pages is behind +the progress of the age. In her youth, it was customary for sons and +daughters both to seek and to heed the counsel of elders in social +matters. In these days, a grandmother must ask her granddaughter whether +such or such a thing is considered "good form," to which the latter will +often reply, "O dear! no."</p> + +<p class="top5">It is sad that we should carry all the barbarism of our nature into our +views of the divine, and make our form of faith an occasion of ill-will +to others, instead of drawing from it the inspiration of a wide and +comprehensive charity. The world's Christianity is greatly open to this +accusation, in dealing with which we are forced to take account of the +slow rate of human progress.</p> + +<p>A friend lately told me of a pious American, familiar in Hong Kong, who +at the close of his last<a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a> visit there, took a formal and eternal leave +of one of the principal native merchants with whom he had long been +acquainted. Mr. C—— alluded to his advanced age, and said that it was +almost certain he could never return to China. "We shall not meet again +in this world," he said, "and as you have never embraced the true +religion, I can have no hope of meeting you in a better one."</p> + +<p>I ask whether this was polite, from one sinner to another?</p> + +<p>A stupid, worldly old woman of fashion in one of our large cities once +said of a most exemplary acquaintance, a liberal Christian saint of +thirty years or more ago: "I am very fond of Mrs. S—— but she is a +Unitarian. What a pity we cannot hope to meet in heaven!" The wicked +bystanders had their own view of the reason why this meeting would +appear very improbable.</p> + +<p>What shall we say of the hospitality which in some churches renders each +man and woman the savage guardian of a seat or pew? Is this God's house +to you, when you turn with fury on a stranger who exercises a stranger's +right to its privileges? Whatever may be preached from the pulpit of +such a church, there is not much of heaven in the seats so maintained +and defended. I remember an Episcopal church in one of our large cities +which a modest looking couple entered one Sunday, taking seats in an +unoccupied pew near the pulpit. And presently<a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a> comes in the plumed head +of the family, followed by its other members. The strangers are warned +to depart, which they do, not without a smile of suppressed amusement. +The church-woman afterwards learned that the persons whom she had turned +out of her pew were the English ambassador and his wife, the +accomplished Lord and Lady Napier.</p> + +<p>St. Paul tells us that in an unknown guest we may entertain an angel +unawares. But I will say that in giving way to such evil impulses, +people entertain a devil unawares.</p> + +<p>Polite religion has to do both with manners and with doctrine. Tolerance +is the external condition of this politeness, but charity is its +interior source. A doctrine which allows and encourages one set of men +to exclude another set from claim to the protection and inspiration of +God is in itself impolite. Christ did not reproach the Jews for holding +their own tenets, but for applying these tenets in a superficial and +narrow spirit, neglecting to practise true devotion and benevolence, and +refusing to learn the providential lessons which the course of time +should have taught them. At this day of the world, we should all be +ready to admit that salvation lies not so much in the prescriptions of +any religion as in the spirit in which these are followed.</p> + +<p>It is the fashion to-day to decry missions. I believe in them greatly. +But a missionary should<a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a> start with a polite theory concerning the +religion which he hopes to supersede by the introduction of one more +polite. If he studies rightly, he will see that all religions seek after +God, and will imitate the procedure of Paul, who, before instructing the +Athenians in the doctrines of the new religion, was careful to recognize +the fact that they had a religion of their own.</p> + +<p>I wish to speak here of the so-called rudeness of reform; and to say +that I think we should call this roughness rather than rudeness. A true +reformer honors human nature by recognizing in it a higher power than is +shown in its average action. The man or woman who approaches you, urging +upon you a more fervent faith, a more impartial justice, a braver +resolve than you find in your own mind, comes to you really in +reverence, and not in contempt. Such a person sees in you the power and +dignity of manhood or womanhood, of which you, perhaps, have an +insufficient sense. And he will strike and strike until he finds in you +that better nature, that higher sense to which he appeals, and which in +the end is almost sure to respond to such appealing.</p> + +<p>I remember having thought in my youth that the Presbyterian preacher, +John Knox, was probably very impolite in his sermons preached before +poor Queen Mary Stuart. But when we reflect upon the follies which, more +than aught else, wrecked her unhappy life, we may fancy the stern divine +to have<a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a> seen whither her love of pleasure and ardent temperament would +lead her, and to have striven, to the best of his knowledge and power, +to pluck her as a brand from the burning, and to bring her within the +sober sphere of influence and reflection which might have saved her +kingdom and her life.</p> + +<p>With all its advances, society still keeps some traces of its original +barbarism. I see these traces in the want of respect for labor, where +this want exists, and also in the position which mere Fashion is apt to +assign to teachers in the community.</p> + +<p>That those who must be intellectually looked up to should be socially +looked down upon is, to say the least, very inconsistent. That the +performance of the helpful offices of the household should be held as +degrading to those who perform them is no less so. We must seek the +explanation of these anomalies in the distant past. When the handiwork +of society was performed by slaves, the world's estimate of labor was +naturally lowered. In the feudal and military time, the writer ranked +below the fighter, and the skill of learning below the prowess of arms. +The mind of to-day has only partially outgrown this very rude standard +of judgment. I was asked, some fifteen years ago, in England, by people +of education, whether women teachers ranked in America with ladies or +with working women. I replied: "With ladies, certainly," which seemed to +occasion surprise.<a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a></p> + +<p>I remember having heard that a relative of Theodore Parker's wife, who +disliked him, would occasionally taunt him with having kept school. She +said to him one day: "My father always told me to avoid a schoolmaster." +Parker replied: "It is evident that you have."</p> + +<p>I think that as Americans we should all feel an especial interest in the +maintenance of polite feeling in our community. The theory of a +government of the people, by the people, and for the people is in itself +the most polite of theories. The fact that under such a government no +man has a position of absolute inferiority forced upon him for life +ought to free us from mean subserviency on the one hand, and from +haughty and brutal assumption on the other.</p> + +<p>Yet I doubt whether politeness is as much considered in American +education as it ought to be. Perhaps our theory of the freedom and +equality of all men leads some of us to the mistaken conclusion that all +people equally know how to behave themselves, which is far from being +the fact.</p> + +<p>One result of our not being well instructed in the nature of politeness +is that we go to the wrong sources to learn it. People who have been +modestly bred think they shall acquire fine manners by consorting with +the world's great people, and in this way often unlearn what they +already know of good manners, instead of adding to their knowledge.<a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a></p> + +<p>Rich Americans seem latterly to have taken on a sort of craze about the +aristocracies of other countries. One form of this craze is the desire +of ambitious parents to marry their daughters to titled individuals +abroad. When we consider that these counts, marquises, and barons +scarcely disguise the fact that the young lady's fortune is the object +of their pursuit, and that the young lady herself is generally aware of +this, we shall not consider marriage under such circumstances a very +polite relation.</p> + +<p>What does make our people polite, then? Partly the inherited blood of +men who would not submit to the rude despotism of old England and old +Europe, and who thought a better state of society worth a voyage in the +<i>Mayflower</i> and a tussle with the wild forest and wilder Indian. Partly, +also, the necessity of the case. As we recognize no absolute social +superiority, no one of us is entirely at liberty to assume airs of +importance which do not belong to him. No matter how selfish we may be, +it will not do for us to act upon the supposition that the comfort of +other people is of less consequence than our own. If we are rude, our +servants will not live with us, our tradespeople will not serve us.</p> + +<p>This is good as far as it goes, but I wish that I could oftener see in +our young people a desire to know what is perfectly and beautifully +polite. And<a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a> I feel sure that more knowledge in this direction would +save us from the vulgarity of worshipping rank and wealth.</p> + +<p>Who have been the polite spirits of our day? I can mention two of them, +Mr. Longfellow and Mr. Emerson, as persons in whose presence it was +impossible to be rude. But our young people of to-day consider the great +fortunes rather than the great examples.</p> + +<p>In order to be polite, it is important to cultivate polite ways of +thinking. Great social troubles and even crimes grow out of rude and +selfish habits of mind. Let us take the case of the Anarchists who were +executed in Chicago some years ago. Before their actions became wicked, +their thoughts became very impolite. They were men who had to work for +their living. They wanted to be so rich that they should not be under +this necessity. Their mode of reasoning was something like this: "I want +money. Who has got it? The capitalist. What protects him in keeping it? +The laws. Down with the laws, then!"</p> + +<p>He who reasons thus forgets, foolish man, that the laws protect the poor +as well as the rich. The laws compel the capitalist to make roads for +the use of the poor man, and to build schoolhouses for the education of +his children. They make the person of the poor man as sacred as that of +the rich man. They secure to both the enjoyment of the<a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a> greatest +benefits of civilization. The Anarchist puts all this behind him, and +only reasons that he, being poor, wants to be rich, and will overthrow, +if he can, the barriers which keep him from rushing like a wild beast +upon the rich man and despoiling him of his possessions.</p> + +<p>And this makes me think of that noble man Socrates, whom the Athenians +sentenced to death for impiety, because he taught that there was one +God, while the people about him worshipped many deities. Some of the +friends of this great man made a plan for his escape from prison to a +place of safety. But Socrates refused to go, saying that the laws had +hitherto protected him as they protected other citizens, and that it +would be very ungrateful for him to show them the disrespect of running +away to evade their sentence. He said: "It is better for me to die than +to set the example of disrespect to the laws." How noble were these +sentiments, and how truly polite!</p> + +<p>Whoever brings up his children to be sincere, self-respecting, and +considerate of others brings them up to good manners. Did you ever see +an impolite Quaker? I never did. Yet the Friends are a studiously plain +people, no courtiers nor frequenters of great entertainments. What makes +them polite? The good education and discipline which are handed down +among them from one generation to another.<a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a></p> + +<p>The eminent men of our own early society were simple in their way of +living, but when public duty called them abroad to mingle with the +elegant people of the Old World, they did us great credit. Benjamin +Franklin was much admired at the court of Louis <span class="smcap">XVI</span>. Jay and Jefferson +and Morris and Adams found their manners good enough to content the +highest European society. They were educated men; but besides +book-learning, and above it, they had been bred to have the thoughts +and, more than all, the feelings of gentlemen.</p> + +<p>The assumption of special merit, either by an individual or a class, is +not polite. We notice this fault when some dressy young lady puts on +airs, and struts in fine clothes, or condescends from an elegant +carriage. Elder women show it in hardness and hauteur of countenance, or +in unnecessary patronage.</p> + +<p>But we allow classes of people to assume special merit on false grounds. +It may very easily be shown that it requires more talent and merit to +earn money than to spend it. Yet, by almost common consent of the +fashionable world, those who inherit or marry money are allowed to place +themselves above those who earn it.</p> + +<p>If this is the case so far as men are concerned, much more is it the +case with women. Good society often feels itself obliged to apologize +for a lady who earns money. The fact, however explained,<a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a> is a badge of +discredit. She could not help it, poor thing! Her father failed, or her +trustee lost the investments made for her. He usually does. So she +has—oh, sad alternative!—to make herself useful.</p> + +<p>Now in America the judgment of the Old World in this respect has come to +be somewhat reversed. We do not like idle inheritors here; and so the +moneyed aristocracy of our country is a tolerably energetic and +industrious body. But in the case of womankind, I could wish to see a +very different standard adopted from that now existing. I could wish +that the fact of an idle and useless life should need apology—not that +of a laborious and useful one. Idleness is a pregnant source of +demoralization to rich women. The hurry and excitement of fashionable +engagements, and the absorbing nature of entirely selfish and useless +pursuits, such as dancing, dress, and flirtation, cannot take the place +of healthful work. Dr. Watts warns us that</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Satan finds some mischief still</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">For idle hands to do.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>And Tennyson has some noble lines in one of his noblest poems:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">I know you, Clara Vere de Vere,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">You pine among your halls and towers;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The languid light of your proud eyes</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Is wearied of the rolling hours.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In glowing health, with boundless wealth,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">But sickening of a vague disease,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">You know so ill to deal with time,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">You needs must play such pranks as these.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>As I am speaking of England, I will say that some things in the +constitution of English society seem to tend to impoliteness.</p> + +<p>The English are a most powerful and energetic race, with immense +vitality, cruelly divided up in their own country by absolute social +conditions, handed down from generation to generation. So a sense of +superiority, more or less lofty and exaggerated, characterizes the upper +classes, while the lower partly rest in a dogged compliance, partly +indulge the blind instinct of reverence, partly detest and despise those +whom birth and fate have set over them. In England, people assert their +own rank and look down upon that of others all the way from the throne +to the peasant's hut. I asked an English visitor, the other day, what +inferior the lowest man had,—the man at the bottom of the social pile. +I answered him myself: "His wife, of course."</p> + +<p>Where worldliness gives the tone to character, it corrupts the source of +good manners, and the outward polish is purchased by the inward +corruption of the heart. The crucial experiment of character is found in +the transition from modest competency to conspicuous wealth and fashion. +Most of us may desire this; but I should rather say: Dread it.<a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a> I have +seen such sweetness and beauty impaired by the process, such +relinquishment of the genuine, such gradual adoption of the false and +meretricious!</p> + +<p>Such was a house in which I used to meet all the muses of the earlier +time,—in which economy was elegant; frugality, tasteful and thrifty. My +heart recalls the golden hours passed there, the genial, home +atmosphere, the unaffected music, the easy, brilliant conversation. Time +passes. A or B is the head of a great mercantile house now. I meet him +after a lapse of years. He is always genial, and pities all who are not +so rich as he is. But when I go to his great feast, I pity him. All the +tiresome and antiquated furniture of fashionable society fills his +rooms. Those empty bores whom I remember in my youth, and many new ones +of their kind, float their rich clothing through his rooms. The old +good-hearted greeting is replaced by the distant company bow. The +moderate banquet, whose special dishes used to have the care of the +young hostess, is replaced by a grand confectioner's avalanche, cold, +costly, and comfortless. And I sigh, and go home feeling, as Browning +says, "chilly and grown old."</p> + +<p>This is not one case, but many. And since I have observed this page of +human experience, I say to all whom I love and who are in danger of<a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a> +becoming very wealthy: Do not, oh! do not be too fashionable. "Love not +the world."</p> + +<p>Most of us know the things men really say to us beneath the disguise of +the things they seem to say. And So-and-So, taking my hand, expresses to +me: "How much more cordial should I be to you if your father's real +estate had not been sold off before the rise." And such another would, +if he could, say: "I am really surprised to see you at this house, and +in such good clothes. Pray have you any income that I don't happen to +know about?" The tax-gatherer is not half so vigilant about people's +worldly goods as these friends are. No matter how they bow and smile, +their real impoliteness everywhere penetrates its thin disguise.</p> + +<p>What is this impoliteness? To what is it shown? To God's image,—the +true manhood and true womanhood, which you may strip or decorate, but +which you cannot destroy. Human values cannot be raised or lowered at +will. "Thou canst not, by taking thought, add one cubit to thy stature." +I derive impoliteness from two sources,—indifference to the divine, and +contempt for the human.</p> + +<p>The king of Wall Street, some little time since, was a man who had risen +from a humble beginning to the eminence of a successful stock-gambler. +He had been fortunate and perhaps skilful in his play,<a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a> and was supposed +to be possessed of immense wealth. Immediately, every door was opened to +him. No assemblage was perfect without him. Every designing mother +wanted him for her son-in-law. One unlucky throw overturned all this. +Down went his fortune; down, his eminence. No more bowing and cringing +and smiling now. No more plotting against his celibacy—he was welcome +to it. No more burthensome hospitality. He was dropped as coldly and +selfishly as he was taken up,—elbowed aside, left out in the cold. When +I heard of all this, I said: "Is it ever necessary in these times to +preach about the meanness of the great world?"</p> + +<p>Let us, in our new world, lay aside altogether the theory of human +superiority as conferred by special birth or fortune. Let us recognize +in all people human right, capacity, and dignity.</p> + +<p>Having adopted this equal human platform, and with it the persuasion +that the society of good people is always good society, let us organize +our circles by real tastes and sympathies. Those who love art can follow +it together; those who love business, and science, and theology, and +belles-lettres, can group themselves harmoniously around the object +which especially attracts them.</p> + +<p>But people shall, in this new order, seek to fill their own place as +they find it. No crowding up or down, or in or out. A quiet reference to +the<a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a> standard of education and to the teachings of Nature will show each +one where he belongs. Religion shall show the supreme source of power +and of wisdom near to all who look for it. And this final unity of the +religious sense shall knit together the happy human variety into one +great complex interest, one steadfast faith, one harmonious effort.</p> + +<p>The present essay, I must say, was written in great part for this very +society which, assuming to take the lead in social attainment, often +falls lamentably short of its promise. But let us enlarge the ground of +our remarks by a more general view of American society.</p> + +<p>I have travelled in this country North and South, East and West. I have +seen many varieties of our national life. I think that I have seen +everywhere the capacity for social enjoyment. In many places, I have +found the notion of co-operation for good ends, which is a most +important element in any society. What I have seen makes me think that +we Americans start from a vantage-ground compared with other nations. As +mere social units, we are ranked higher than Britons or continental +Europeans.</p> + +<p>This higher estimation begins early in life. Every child in this country +is considered worth educating. The State will rescue the child of the +pauper or criminal from the ignorance which has been a factor in the +condition of its parents. Even<a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a> the idiot has a school provided for him, +in which he may receive such training as he can profit by. This general +education starts us on a pretty high level. We have, no doubt, all the +faults of our human nature, but we know, too, how and why these should +be avoided.</p> + +<p>Then the great freedom of outlook which our institutions give us is in +our favor. We need call no man Master. We can pursue the highest aims, +aspire to the noblest distinctions. We have no excuse for contenting +ourselves with the paltry objects and illusory ambitions which play so +large a part in Old-World society.</p> + +<p>The world grows better and not worse, but it does not grow better +everywhere all the time. Wherever human effort to a given end is +intermitted, society does not attain that end, and is in danger of +gradually losing it from view, and thus of suffering an unconscious +deterioration which it may become difficult to retrieve. I do not think +that the manners of so-called polite society to-day are quite so polite +as they were in my youth. Young women of fashion seem to me to have lost +in dignity of character and in general tone and culture. Young men of +fashion seem to regard the young ladies with less esteem and deference, +and a general cheap and easy standard of manners is the result.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, outside this charmed circle<a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a> of fashion, I find the +tone of taste and culture much higher than I remember it to have been in +my youth. I find women leading nobler and better lives, filling larger +and higher places, enjoying the upper air of thought where they used to +rest upon the very soil of domestic care and detail. So the community +gains, although one class loses,—and that, remember, the class which +assumes to give to the rest the standard of taste.</p> + +<p>Instead of dwelling too much upon the faults of our neighbors, let us +ask whether we are not, one and all of us, under sacred obligations to +carry our race onward toward a nobler social ideal. In Old-World +countries, people lack room for new ideas. The individual who would +introduce and establish these may be imprisoned, or sent to Siberia, or +may suffer, at the least, a social ostracism which is a sort of +martyrdom.</p> + +<p>Here we have room enough; we cannot excuse ourselves on that ground. And +we have strength enough—we, the people. Let us only have the <i>royal</i> +will which good Mr. Whittier has celebrated in "Barbara Frietchie," and +we shall be able, by a resolute and persevering effort, to place our +civilization where no lingering trace of barbarism shall deform and +disgrace it.</p> + +<p><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="Paris" id="Paris"></a>Paris.</h3> + +<p class="text nind">AN old woman's tale will always begin with a reminiscence of some period +more or less remote.</p> + +<p>In accordance with this law of nature, I find that I cannot begin to +speak of Paris without going back to the projection which the fashions +and manners of that ancient capital were able to cast upon my own native +city of New York. My recollections of the latter reach back, let me say, +to the year 1826. I was then seven years old; and, beginning to take +notice of things around me, I saw the social eminences of the day lit up +with the far-off splendors of Parisian taste.</p> + +<p>To speak French with ease was, in those days, considered the most +desirable of accomplishments. The elegance of French manners was +commended in all polite circles. The services of General Lafayette were +held up to children as deserving their lifelong remembrance and +gratitude.</p> + +<p>But the culmination of the <i>Gallomania</i> was seen in the millinery of the +period; and I must confess that my earliest views of this were enjoyed +within the precincts of a certain Episcopal sanctuary which then stood +first upon the dress-list, and, like Jove among the gods, without a +second. This<a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a> establishment retained its pre-eminence of toilet for more +than thirty years after the time of which I speak, and perhaps does so +still. I have now lived so long in Boston that I should be obliged to +consult New York authorities if I wished to be able to say decidedly +whether the well-known Grace Church of that city still deserves to be +called "The Church of the Holy Milliner." A little child's fancy +naturally ran riot in a field of bonnets so splendid and showy, and, +however admonished to listen to the minister, I am afraid that a raid +upon the flowers and plumes so lavishly displayed before me would have +offered more attractions to my tender mind than any itinerary of the +celestial journey of which I should have been likely to hear in that +place.</p> + +<p>The French dancing-master of that period taught us gambols and +flourishes long since banished from the domain of social decorum. Being +light and alert, I followed his prescriptions with joy, and learned with +patience the lessons set me by the French mistress, who, while leading +us through Florian's tales and La Fontaine's fables, did not forget to +impress upon us her conviction that to be French was to be virtuous, but +to be Parisian was to be perfect.</p> + +<p>Let me now pass on to the years of my youngladyhood, when New York +reflected Paris on a larger scale. The distinguished people of the +society<a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a> to which my youth was related either had been to Paris or +expected to go there very shortly. Our circles were sometimes +electrified by the appearance of a well-dressed and perfumed stranger, +wearing the moustache which was then strictly contraband in the New York +business world, and talking of manners and customs widely different from +our own.</p> + +<p>These elegant gentlemen were sometimes adventurers in pursuit of a rich +wife, sometimes intelligent and well-informed travellers, and sometimes +the agents of some foreign banking-house, for the drummer was not yet +invented. If they were furnished with satisfactory credentials, the +fathers of Gotham introduced them into their domestic circle, usually +warning their daughters never to think of them as husbands,—a warning +which, naturally, would sometimes defeat its own object.</p> + +<p>I must here be allowed to say one word concerning the French novel, +which, since that time, has here and there affected the tone of our +society. In the days of which I speak, brothers who returned from Europe +brought with them the romances of Balzac and Victor Hugo, which their +sisters surreptitiously read. We heard also with a sort of terror of +George Sand, the evil woman, who wrote such somnambulic books. We +pictured to ourselves the wicked delight of reading them; and presently +some friend confidentially lent us the forbidden<a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a> volumes, which our +Puritan nurture and habit of life did much to render harmless and not +quite clear in meaning.</p> + +<p>I should say that the works of Balzac, George Sand, Victor Hugo, and +Eugne Sue had each exerted an appreciable influence upon the social +atmosphere of this country. Of these four, Balzac was the least popular, +having long been known only to readers acquainted with the French +language. George Sand first became widely recognized through her +"Consuelo." Victor Hugo's popular fame dates from "Les Miserables," and +"The Mysteries of Paris" opened the doors to Eugne Sue, and <i>Rigolette</i> +and <i>Fleur de Marie</i>, new types of character to most of us, appeared +upon the stage.</p> + +<p>Still nearer was Paris brought to us by Carlyle's work on the French +Revolution, which, falling like a compact and burning coal upon the +American imagination, reddened the sober twilight of our firesides with +the burning passion and frenzy of that great drama of enthusiasm and +revenge. And here, lest I should entirely reverse the order in which +historic things should be spoken of, let me dismiss those early +memories, and, having shown you something of the far-reaching influence +of the city, let me speak of it from nearer sight and study.</p> + +<p>History must come first. I find it written in a certain record that +Paris, in the time of Julius Csar, was a collection of huts built upon +an island<a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a> in the Seine, and bearing the name of Lutetia. Its +inhabitants were called Parisii, which was the name of their tribe, +supposed to be an offshoot from the Belg. I do not know whether this +primitive settlement lay within the bounds of Gallia <i>Bracchiata</i>; but, +if it did, how natural that to the other indebtedness of polite life, +that of the trouser should be added! The city still possesses some +interesting remains of the Roman period. The Hotel Cluny is also called +"The Hotel of the Baths," and whoever visits it may at the same time +explore a massive ruin which is said to have covered beneath its roof +the baths of the Emperor Julian, surnamed "The Apostate."</p> + +<p>A rapid panoramic retrospect will give us briefly the leading points of +the city's many periods of interest. First must be named Paris of the +early saints: Saint Genevieve, who saved it from the hands of Attila; +Saint Denis, famous for having walked several miles after his head was +cut off, carrying that deposed member under his arm.</p> + +<p>A well-known French proverb was suggested some time in the last century +by the relation of this medival miracle. The celebrated Madame +Dudeffant, a wit and beauty of Horace Walpole's time, was told one day +that the Archbishop of Paris had said that every one knew that Saint +Denis had walked some distance after his decapitation, but that few +people were aware that he had walked several<a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a> miles on that occasion. +Madame Dudeffant said, in reply: "Indeed, in such a case, it is the +first step only that costs,"—<i>"Ce n'est que le premier pas qui cote."</i></p> + +<p>Paris of the sleepy Merovingians,—do-nothing kings, a race made to be +kicked out, and fulfilling its destiny,—Paris of Hugh Capet, in whose +reign were laid the foundations of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Paris of +1176, whereof the old chronicler, John of Salisbury, writes: "When I saw +the abundance of provisions, the gaiety of the people, the good +condition of the clergy, the majesty and glory of all the church, the +diverse occupations of men admitted to the study of philosophy, I seemed +to see that Jacob's ladder whose summit reached heaven, and on which the +angels ascended and descended. I must confess that truly the Lord was in +this place. This passage also of a poet came to my mind: 'Happy is the +man whose exile is to this place.'"</p> + +<p>This suggests the familiar saying of our own time,—that good +Bostonians, when they die, go to Paris.</p> + +<p>Paris of Louis <span class="smcap">XI.</span>, he of the strong hand, the stony heart, the +superstitious mind. Scott has seized the features of the time and of the +man in his novel of "Quentin Durward." His hat, full of leaden images of +saints, his cunning and pitiless<a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a> diplomacy, and the personages of his +brilliant court are brought vividly before us by the magician of the +North.</p> + +<p>Paris of Louis <span class="smcap">XIII.</span>, and its Richelieu live for us in Bulwer's vivid +play, in which I have often seen the fine impersonation of Edwin Booth.</p> + +<p>Paris of Louis <span class="smcap">XIV.</span>, the handsome young king, the idol, the absolute +sovereign, who said: <i>"L'tat, c'est moi;"</i> the old man before whom +Madame de Maintenon is advised to say her prayers, in order to make upon +his mind a serious impression; the revoker of the edict of Nantes; he +who tried to extinguish Dutch freedom with French blood; a god in his +own time, a figure now faded, pompous, self-adoring.</p> + +<p>Paris of Louis <span class="smcap">XV.</span>, the reign of license, the <i>Parc aux cerfs</i>, the +period of the courtesan, Madame de Pompadour, and a host of rivals and +successors,—a hateful type of womanhood, justly odious and gladly +forgotten.</p> + +<p>Paris of Louis <span class="smcap">XVI.</span>, the days of progress and of good intentions; the +deficit, the ministry of Neckar, the states general, Mirabeau, +Lafayette, Robespierre, the fall of the monarch, the reign of terror; +the guillotine in permanence, science, virtue, every distinction +supplying its victims.</p> + +<p>Paris of Napoleon I.; a whiff of grape-shot that silences the last +grumblings of the Revolution; the<a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a> mighty marches, the strategy of +Ulysses, the labors of Hercules, the glory of Jupiter, ending in the +fate of Prometheus.</p> + +<p>Paris of the returned Bourbons, Charles X., the Duc de Berri, the +Duchess d'Angoulme; Paris of the Orleans dynasty, civil, civic, free, +witty; wise here, and wicked there; the Mecca of students in all +sciences; a region problematic to parents, who fear its vices and +expense, but who desire its opportunities and elegance for their sons. +This was in the days in which a visit to Paris was the <i>ne plus ultra</i> +of what parents could do to forward a son's studies, or perfect a +daughter's accomplishments.</p> + +<p>Having made my connections in this breathless review, I must return to +speak of two modern works of art which treat of matters upon which my +haste did not allow me, in the first instance, to dwell.</p> + +<p>The first of these is Victor Hugo's picture of medival Paris, given in +his famous romance entitled "Notre Dame de Paris." This remarkable novel +preserves valuable details of the architecture of the ancient cathedral +from which it takes its name. It paints the society of the time in +gloomy colors. The clergy are corrupt, the soldiery licentious, the +people forlorn and friendless. Here is a brief outline of the story. The +beautiful gipsy, <i>Esmeralda</i>, dances and twirls her tambourine in the +public streets. Her companion is a little goat,<a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a> which she has taught to +spell her lover's name, by putting together the letters which compose +it. This lover is <i>Phœbus</i>, captain of the guard. <i>Claude Frollo</i>, +the cunning, wicked priest of the period, has cast his evil eye upon the +girl. He manages to surprise her when alone with her lover, and stabs +the latter so as to endanger his life. A hideous dwarf, named +<i>Quasimodo</i>, also loves <i>Esmeralda</i>, with humble, faithful affection. As +the story develops, he turns out to have been the changeling laid in the +place of the lovely girl-infant whom gipsies stole from her cradle. +<i>Esmeralda</i> finds her distracted parent, but only to be torn from her +arms again. The priest, <i>Claude Frollo</i>, foiled in his unlawful passion, +stirs up the wrath of the populace against <i>Esmeralda</i>, accusing her of +sorcery. She is seized by the mob, and hanged in the public street. The +narrative is powerful and graphic, but it shows the disease of Victor +Hugo's mind,—a morbid imagination which heightens the color of human +crimes in order to give a melodramatic brilliancy to the virtue which +contrasts with them. According to his view, suffering through the fault +of others is necessarily the lot of all good people. French romance has +in it much of this despair of the cause of virtue. It springs, however +remotely, from the dark days of absolutism, whose bitter secrets were +masked over by the frolic fancy of the people who invented the joyous +science of minstrelsy.<a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a></p> + +<p>The other work which I have now in mind is Meyerbeer's opera of "The +Huguenots," which I mention here because it brings so vividly to mind +the features of another period in the history of Paris. It represents, +as an opera may, the frightful days in which a king's hospitality was +made a trap for the wholesale butchery of as many Protestants as could +be lured within the walls of Paris,—the massacre which bears the name +of Saint Bartholomew. Nobles and leaders were shot down in the streets, +or murdered in their beds, while the hollow phrases of the royal favor +still rang in their ears. I have seen, near the church of St. Germain +l'Auxerois, the palace window from which the kerchief of Catherine de +Medici gave the signal for the fatal onslaught. "Do you not believe my +word?" asked the Queen Mother one day of the English ambassador. "No, by +Saint Bartholomew, Madam," was the sturdy reply.</p> + +<p>Meyerbeer's opera is truly a Protestant work of art, vigorous and noble. +Through all the intensity of its dramatic situations runs the grand +choral of Luther:—</p> + +<p class="c">A mighty fortress is our God.</p> + +<p>So true faith holds its own, and sails its silver boat upon the bloody +sea of martyrdom.</p> + +<p>Am I obliged to have recourse to a novel and an<a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a> opera in order to bring +before your eyes a vision of Paris in those distant ages? Such are our +indebtednesses to art and literature. And here I must again mention, as +a great master in both of these, Thomas Carlyle, who has given us so +vivid and graphic a picture of the Revolution in France, which followed +so nearly upon our own War of Independence.</p> + +<p>I, a grandmother of to-day, recall the impression which this great +conflict had made upon the grandparents of my childhood. Most wicked and +cruel did they esteem it, in all of its aspects. To people of our day, +it appears the inevitable crisis of a most malignant state of national +disease. Much of political quackery was swept away forever, one may +hope, by its virulent outbreak. No half-way nostrums, no outside +tinkering, answered for this fiery patient, whose fever set the whole +continent of Europe in a blaze. War itself was gentle in comparison with +the acts of its savage delirium, in which the vengeance of defrauded +ages fell upon victims most of whom were innocent of personal offence. +The reign of humanitarian theory led strangely to a period of military +predominance which has had no parallel since the days of Alexander of +Macedon. Then War itself died of exhaustion. The stupor of reaction +quenched the dream of civil and religious liberty. But the patient<a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a> +stirred again in 1830 and 1848, and the dream, scarcely yet realized, +became more and more the settled purpose of his heart.</p> + +<p>Now the government in 1830 was manifestly in the wrong. The stupid old +Bourbon Prince, Charles X., had learned nothing, and forgotten nothing, +but the French people had learned and unlearned many things. They had +learned the illusion of Monarchy, the corruption of the demagogue, the +futility of the sentimentalist. The impotence of the aristocracy was one +of the lessons of the day. Was ever a people more rapidly educated? Take +the <i>canaille</i> of the pre-revolutionary history, and the <i>peuple</i> of the +Revolution. What a contrast! It is the lion asleep in the toils, and the +lion awake, and turning upon his captors in fury. The French people have +never gone back to what they were before that great outbreak. The +mighty, volcanic heart has made its pulsations felt through all +assumptions, through all restraints. Yet the French people are easily +tricked. They are easily led to receive pedantry for education, bigotry +for religion, constraint for order, and successful pretension for glory.</p> + +<p>The Revolution of 1848 was justified in all but its method. And method +has often been the weak point in French politics. Methods are handed +down more surely than ideas are inherited. The violent measures whose +record forms so large a<a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a> part of French history have left behind them a +belief in military, rather than in moral, action. The <i>coup d'tat</i> +would seem by its name to be a French invention; but it is a method +abhorred of Justice. Justice recognizes two sides, and gives ear to +both. Passion sees but one, and blots out in blood the representatives +of the other. The Revolution of 1848 was the rather premature explosion +of a wide and subtle conspiracy. But if the conflicting opinions and +interests then current could have encountered each other, as in England +or America, in open daylight, trusting only in the weapons of reason, a +very different result would have been achieved. Do not conspire, is one +of the lessons which Paris teaches by her history. Do not say, nor teach +others to say: "If we cannot have our way, we will have your life." Say, +rather: "Let both sides state their case, and plead their cause, and let +the weight of Reason decide which shall prevail."</p> + +<p class="top5">Paris as I first knew it, half a century ago, was a place imposing for +its good taste and good manners. A stranger passing through it with ever +so little delay would necessarily have been impressed with the general +intelligence, and with the sthetic invention and nicety which, more +than anything else, have given the city its social and commercial +prestige.<a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a></p> + +<p>In those days, Chateaubriand and Madame Rcamier were still alive. The +traditions of society were polite. The theatres were vivacious schools +of morality. The salon was still an institution. This was not what we +should call a party, but the habitual meeting of friends in a friend's +house,—a good institution, if kept up in a good spirit.</p> + +<p>The natural sociability of the French made the salon an easy and natural +thing for them. Salons were of all sorts. Some shone in true glory; some +disguised evil purposes and passions with artificial graces. I think the +institution of the salon indigenous to Paris, although it has by no +means stopped there.</p> + +<p>The great point in administering a salon is to do it sincerely. Where +the children are put out of the way, the old friends neglected, the rich +courted, and celebrities impaled and exhibited, the institution is +demoralizing, and answers no end of permanent good. A friendly house, +that opens its doors as often and as widely as the time and fortune of +its inmates can afford, is a boon and blessing to many people.</p> + +<p>I suppose that the French salons were of both sorts. Sydney Smith speaks +of a certain historical set of Parisian women who dealt very lightly +with the Decalogue, but who, on the other hand, gave very pleasant +little suppers. French society, no doubt, afforded many occasions of +this sort, but<a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a> far different were the meetings in which the literary +world of Paris listened to the unpublished memoirs of Chateaubriand; far +different was the throng that gathered, twice a day, around the hearth +of the wise and devout Madame Swetchine.</p> + +<p>In the days just mentioned, I passed through Paris, returning from my +bridal journey, which had carried me to Rome. I was eager to explore +every corner of the enchanted region. What I did see, I have never +forgotten,—the brilliant shops, the tempting <i>cafs</i>, the varied and +entertaining theatres. I attended a <i>sance</i> of the Chamber of Deputies, +a lecture of Edgar de Quinet, and one of Philarete Charles. De Quinet's +lecture was given at the Sorbonne. I remember of it only the enthusiasm +of the audience,—the faces at once fiery and thoughtful, the occasional +cries of "De Quinet," when any passage particularly stirred the feelings +of the auditors. Of Philarete Charles, I remember that his theme was +"English Literature," and that at the close of his lecture he took +occasion to reprobate the whole literary world of America. The <i>bon +homme</i> Franklin, he said, had outwitted the French Court. The country of +Franklin was utterly without interest from an intellectual point of +view. "When," said he, "we take into account the late lamentable +disorders in New York (some small election riot, in 1844), we shall +agree upon the low state of American civilization and the small<a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a> +prospect of good held out by the republic." He was unaware, of course, +that Americans were among his hearers; but a certain tidal wave of anger +arose in my heart, and had not my graver companion held me down, I +should have arisen then, as I certainly should now, to say: "Monsieur +Philarete Charles, you are uttering falsehoods."</p> + +<p>In those days, I first saw Rachel, then in the full affluence of her +genius. The trenchant manner, the statuesque drapery, the +chain-lightning effects, were much as they were afterwards seen in this +country. But when I saw her, seven years after that first time, in +London, I thought that her unrivalled powers had bloomed to a still +fuller perfection than before. Of finest clay, thrilled by womanly +passion and tempered by womanly tact, we need not remember the faults of +the person in the perfection of the artist. Alfred de Musset has left a +charming account of a supper at her house. I certainly have never seen +on the boards a tragic conception equal to hers. Ristori, able as she +was, seemed to me to fall short in Rachel's great parts, if we except +the last scene of "Marie Stuart," in which the Christian woman, +following the crucifix to her death, showed a sense of its value which +the Jewish woman could neither feel nor counterfeit.</p> + +<p>The gallery of the Louvre recalls the finest palaces of Italy, and +equals, in value and interest, any gallery in the world. Venice is far +richer in Titian's<a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a> pictures, and Rome and Florence keep the greatest +works of Raphael and Michael Angelo. To understand Quintin Matsys and +Rubens, you must go to Antwerp, where their finest productions remain. +But the Louvre has an unsurpassed variety and interest, and exhibits not +a few of the chief treasures of ancient and modern art. Among these are +some of the masterpieces of Titian, Raphael, and Leonardo da Vinci, the +Conception of Murillo, Paul Veronese's great picture of the marriage at +Cana in Galilee, and the ever-famous Venus of Milo.</p> + +<p>In one of the principal galleries of Venice, I was once shown a large +picture by the French artist David. I do not remember much about its +merits, but, on asking how it came there, I was told that its place had +formerly been occupied by a famous picture by Paul Veronese. Napoleon +I., it will be remembered, robbed the galleries of Italy of many of +their finest pictures. After his downfall, most of these stolen +treasures were restored to their rightful owners; but the French never +gave up the Paul Veronese picture, which was this very one that now +hangs in the Louvre, where its vivid coloring and rich grouping look +like a piece of Venice, bright and glorious like herself.</p> + +<p>The student of art, returning from Italy, is possessed with the medival +gloom and glory which there have filled his eyes and his imagination. +With a sigh, looking toward our Western world, so<a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a> rich in action, so +poor as yet in art, he pauses here in surprise, to view a cosmopolitan +palace of her splendors. It consoles him to think that the Beautiful has +made so brave a stand upon the nearer borders of the Seine. Encouraged +by the noble record of French achievement, he carries with him across +the ocean the traditions of Jerome, of Rosa Bonheur, of Horace Vernet.</p> + +<p class="top5">In historical monuments, Paris is rich indeed. The oldest of these that +I remember was the Temple,—the ancient stronghold of the Knights +Templar, who were cruelly extirpated in the year 1307. It was a large, +circular building, occupied, when I visited it, as a place for the sale +of second-hand commodities. I remember making purchases of lace within +its walls which were nearly black with age. You will remember that Louis +<span class="smcap">XVI.</span> and his family were confined here for some time, and that here took +place the sad parting between the King and the dear ones he was never to +see again. I will subjoin a brief extract from the diary of my +grandfather, Col. Samuel Ward, of the Revolutionary War, who was in +Paris at the time of the King's execution:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>January 17, 1792.</i> The Convention up all night upon the question +of the King's sentence. At eleven this night the sentence of death +was pronounced,—three hundred and sixty-six for death; three +hundred and nineteen for seclusion or banishment;<a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a> thirty-six +various; majority of five absolute. The King desired an appeal to +be made to the people, which was not allowed. Thus the Convention +have been the accusers, the judges, and will be the executors of +their own sentence. This will cause a great degree of astonishment +in America, where the departments are so well divided that the +judges have power to break all acts of the Legislature interfering +with the exercise of their office.</p> + +<p><i>January 20.</i> The fate of the King disturbs everybody.</p> + +<p><i>January 21.</i> I had engaged to pass this day, which is one of +horror, at Versailles, with Mr. Morris. The King was beheaded at +eleven o'clock. Guards at an early hour took possession of the +Place Louis <span class="smcap">XV.</span>, and were posted at each avenue. The most profound +stillness prevailed. Those who had feeling lamented in secret in +their houses, or had left town. Others showed the same levity and +barbarous indifference as on former occasions. Hitchborn, +Henderson, and Johnson went to see the execution, for which, as an +American, I was sorry. The King desired to speak: he had only time +to say he was innocent, and forgave his enemies. He behaved with +the fortitude of a martyr. Santerre ordered the executioner to +dispatch.</p></div> + +<p>Louis Napoleon ordered the destruction of this venerable monument of +antiquity, and did much else to efface the landmarks of the ancient +Paris, and to give his elegant capital the air of a city entirely +modern.</p> + +<p>The history of the Bastile has been published in many volumes, some of +which I have read. It was the convenient dark closet of the French +nursery. Whoever gave trouble to the Government or to any of its +creatures was liable to be set away here without trial or resource. One +prisoner confined in it escaped by patiently unravelling his<a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a> shirts and +drawers of silk, and twisting them into a thick cord, by means of which +he reached the moat, and so passed beyond bounds.</p> + +<p>An historical personage, whose name is unknown, passed many years in +this sad place, wearing an iron mask, which no official ever saw +removed. He is supposed by some to have been a twin brother of the King, +Louis <span class="smcap">XIV.</span>; so we see that, although it might seem a piece of good +fortune to be born so near the crown, it might also prove to be the +greatest of misfortunes. Think what must have been the life of that +captive—how blank, weary, and indignant!</p> + +<p>When the Bastile was destroyed, a prisoner was found who had suffered so +severely from the cold and damp of its dungeons that his lips had split +completely open, leaving his teeth exposed. Carlyle describes the +commandant of the fortress carried along in the hands of an infuriated +mob, crying out with piteous supplication: "O friends, kill me quick!" +The fury was indeed natural, but better resource against tyranny had +been the calm, strong will and deliberate judgment. It is little to kill +the tyrant and destroy his tools. We must study to find out what +qualities in the ruler and the ruled make tyranny possible, and then +defeat it, once and forever.</p> + +<p>The hospital of the <i>Invalides</i> was built by Louis <span class="smcap">XIV.</span>, as a refuge for +disabled soldiers. This large<a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a> edifice forms a hollow square, and is +famous for its dome,—one of the four real domes of the world, the +others being the dome of St. Sophia, in Constantinople; that of St. +Peter's, in Rome; and the grand dome of our own Capitol, in Washington.</p> + +<p>I have paid several visits to this interesting establishment, with long +intervals between. When I first saw it, fifty years ago, there were many +of Napoleon's old soldiers within its walls. On one occasion, one of +these old men showed us with some pride the toy fortifications which he +had built, guarded by toy soldiers. "There is the bridge of Lodi," he +said, and pointing to a little wooden figure, "there stands the +Emperor." At this time, the remains of the first Napoleon slumbered in +St. Helena.</p> + +<p>I saw the monument complete in 1867. It had then been open long to the +public. The marble floor and steps around the tomb of the first Napoleon +were literally carpeted with wreaths and garlands. The brothers of the +great man lay around him, in sarcophagi of costliest marble, their names +recorded not as Bonapartes, but as Napoleons. A dreary echo may have +penetrated even to these dead ears in 1870, when the column of the Place +Vendome fell, with the well-known statue for which it was only a +pedestal, and when the third Napoleon took his flight, repudiated and +detested.</p> + +<p>But to return. In 1851 I again saw Paris. The<a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a> <i>coup d'tat</i> had not +then fallen. Louis Napoleon was still President, and already unpopular. +Murmurs were heard of his inevitable defeat in the election which was +already in men's minds. Louis Philippe was an exile in Scotland. While I +was yet in Paris, the ex-King died; but the announcement produced little +or no sensation in his ancient capital.</p> + +<p>A process was then going on of substituting asphaltum pavements for the +broad, flat paving-stones which had proved so available in former +barricades. The President, perhaps, had coming exigencies in view. The +people looked on in rather sullen astonishment. Not long after this, I +found myself at Versailles on a day set apart for a visit from the +President and his suite. The great fountains were advertised to play in +honor of the occasion. From hall to hall of the immense palace we +followed, at a self-respecting distance, the sober <i>cortge</i> of the +President. A middle-sized, middle-aged man, he appeared to us.</p> + +<p>The tail of this comet was not then visible, and the star itself +exhibited but moderate dimensions. The corrupting influence of +absolutism had not yet penetrated the tissues of popular life. The +theatres were still loyal to decency and good taste. Manners and dress +were modest; intemperance was rarely seen.</p> + +<p>A different Paris I saw in 1867. The dragon's<a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a> teeth had been sown and +were ripening. The things which were Csar's had made little account of +the things which were God's. A blight had fallen upon men and women. The +generation seemed to have at once less self-respect and less politeness +than those which I had formerly known. The city had been greatly +modernized, perhaps embellished, but much of its historic interest had +disappeared. The theatres were licentious. Friends said: "Go, but do not +take your daughters." The drivers of public carriages were often +intoxicated.</p> + +<p>The great Exposition of that year had drawn together an immense crowd +from all parts of the world. Among its marvels, my recollection dwells +most upon the gallery of French paintings, in which I stood more than +once before a full-length portrait of the then Emperor. I looked into +the face which seemed to say: "I have succeeded. What has any one to say +about it?" And I pondered the slow movements of that heavenly Justice +whose infallible decrees are not to be evaded. In this same gallery was +that sitting statue of the dying Napoleon which has since become so +familiar to the world of art. Crowns of immortelles always lay at the +feet of this statue. And I, in my mind, compared the statue and the +picture,—the great failure and the great success. But in Bismarck's +mind, even then, the despoiling of France was predetermined.<a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a></p> + +<p>What lessons shall we learn from this imperfect sketch of Paris? What +other city has figured so largely in literature? None that I know of, +not even Rome and Athens. The young French writers of our time make a +sketch of some corner of Parisian life, and it becomes a novel.</p> + +<p>French history in modern times is largely the history of Paris. The +modern saying has been that Paris was France. But we shall say: It is +not. Had Paris given a truer representation to France, she might have +avoided many long agonies and acute crises.</p> + +<p>It is because Paris has forced her representation upon France that +Absolutism and Intelligence, the two deadly foes, have fought out their +fiercest battles on the genial soil which seems never to have been +allowed to bear its noblest fruits. The tendency to centralization, with +which the French have been so justly reproached, may or may not be +inveterate in them as a people. If it is so, the tendency of modern +times, which is mostly in the contrary direction, would lessen the +social and political importance of France as surely, if not as swiftly, +as Bismarck's mulcting and mutilation.</p> + +<p>The organizations which result from centralization are naturally +despotic and, in so far, demoralizing. Individuals, having no recognized +representation, and being debarred the natural resource of legitimate +association, show their devotion to<a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a> progress and their zeal for +improvement either in passionate and melancholy appeals or in secret +manœuvrings. The tendency of these methods is to chronic fear on the +one hand and disaffection on the other, and to deep conspiracies and +sudden seditions which astonish the world, but which have in them +nothing astonishing for the student of human nature.</p> + +<p>So those who love France should implore her to lay aside her quick +susceptibilities and irritable enthusiasms, and to study out the secret +of her own shortcomings. How is it that one of the most intelligent +nations of the world was, twenty years ago, one of the least instructed? +How is it that a warm-blooded, affectionate race generates such +atrocious social heartlessness? How was it that the nation which was the +apostle of freedom in 1848 kept Rome for twenty years in bondage? How is +it that the Jesuit, after long exile, has been reenstalled in its midst +with prestige and power? How is it, in so brilliant and liberal a +society, that the successors of Henri <span class="smcap">IV.</span> and Sully are yet to be found?</p> + +<p>Perhaps the reason for some of these things lay in the treason of this +same Henri <span class="smcap">IV.</span> He was a Protestant at heart, and put on the Catholic +cloak in order to wear the crown. "The kingdom of France," said he, or +one of his admirers, "is well worth hearing a mass or two." "The kingdom +of the<a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a> world," said Christ, "is a small thing for a man to gain in +exchange for the kingdom of his own honest soul." Henri <span class="smcap">IV.</span> made this +bad bargain for himself and for France. He did it, doubtless, in view of +the good his reign might bring to the distracted country. But he had +better have given her the example, sole and illustrious, of the most +brilliant man of the time putting by its most brilliant temptation, and +taking his seat low on the ground with those whose hard-earned glory it +is to perish for conscience's sake.</p> + +<p>But the great King is dead, long since, and his true legacy—his +wonderful scheme of European liberation and pacification—has only been +represented by a little newspaper, edited in Paris, but published in +Geneva, and called <i>The United States of Europe</i>.</p> + +<p>So our word to France is: Try to solve the problem of modern Europe with +the great word which Henri <span class="smcap">IV.</span> said, in a whisper, to his other self, +the minister Sully. Learn that social forces are balanced first by being +allowed to exist. Mutilation is useless in a world in which God +continues to be the Creator. Every babe that he sends into the world +brings with it a protest against absolutism. The babe, the nation, may +be robbed of its birthright; but God sends the protest still. And France +did terrible wrong to the protest of her own humanity when she suffered +her Protestant<a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a> right hand to be cut off, and a great part of her most +valuable population to submit to the alternative of exile or apostasy.</p> + +<p>So mad an act as this does not stand on the record of modern times. The +apostate has no spiritual country; the exile has no geographical +country. The men who are faithful to their religious convictions are +faithful to their patriotic duties. What a premium was set upon +falsehood, what a price upon faith, when all who held the supremacy of +conscience a higher fact than the supremacy of Rome were told to +renounce this confession or to depart!</p> + +<p class="top5">If Paris gives to our mind some of the most brilliant pictures +imaginable, she also gives us some of the most dismal. While her +drawing-rooms were light and elegant, her streets were dark and wicked. +Among her hungry and ignorant populace, Crime planted its bitter seeds +and ripened its bloody crop. Police annals show us that Eugne Sue has +not exaggerated the truth in his portraits of the vicious population of +the great city. London has its hideous dens of vice, but Paris has, too, +its wicked institutions.</p> + +<p>Its greatest offences, upon which I can only touch, regard the relations +between men and women. Its police regulations bearing upon this point +are dishonoring to any Christian community. Its social<a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a> tone in this +respect is scarcely better. Men who have the dress and appearance of +gentlemen will show great insolence to a lady who dares to walk alone, +however modestly. Marriage is still a matter of bargain and interest, +and the modes of conduct which set its obligations at naught are more +open and recognized here than elsewhere. The city would seem, indeed, to +be the great market for that host of elegant rebels against virtue who +are willing to be admired without being respected, and who, with +splendid clothes and poor and mean characteristics, are technically +called the <i>demi-monde</i>, the half-world of Paris.</p> + +<p>The corruption of young men and young women which this state of things +at once recognizes and fosters is such as no state can endure without +grievous loss of its manhood and womanhood. The Turks knew their power +when they could compel from the Greeks the tribute of their children, to +be trained as Turks, not as Christians. Must not the Spirit of evil in +like manner exult at his hold upon the French nation, when it allows him +to enslave its youth so largely, consoling itself for the same with a +shrug at the inevitable nature of human folly, or with some witty saying +which will be at once acknowledgment of and excuse for what cannot be +justified?</p> + +<p>Gambling has been one of the crying vices of the French metropolis, and +the "hells" of Paris were<a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a> familiarly spoken of in my youth. These were +the gambling-houses, in that day among the most brilliant and ruinous of +their kind. Government has since then interfered to abolish them. Still, +I suppose that much money is lost and won at play in Paris. From this +and other irregularities, many suicides result. One sees in numerous +places in Paris, particularly near the river, placards announcing "help +to the drowned and asphyxiated," a plunge into the Seine, and a sitting +with a pan of charcoal being the favorite methods of self-destruction. +All have heard of the Morgue, a building in which, every day, the +lifeless bodies found in the river are exposed upon marble slabs, in +order that the friends of the dead—if they have any—may recognize and +claim them. I believe that this sad place is rarely without its +appropriate occupants.</p> + +<p class="top5">Through the kindness of our minister, I was able, some years since, to +attend more than one session of the French Parliament. This body, like +our own Congress, consists of two houses. An outsider does not see any +difference of demeanor between these two. An American visiting either +the French Senate or the Chamber of Deputies will be surprised at the +noise and excitement which prevail. The presiding officer agitates his +bell again and again, to no purpose. He constantly cries, in a piteous +tone: "Gentlemen, a little silence,<a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a> if you please." In the Senate, one +of the ushers with great pride pointed out to me Victor Hugo in his +seat.</p> + +<p>I have seen this venerable man of letters several times,—once in his +own house, and once at a congress of literary people in Paris, where, as +president of the congress, he made the opening address. This he read +from a manuscript, in a sonorous voice, and with much dignity of manner. +He was heard with great interest, and was interrupted by frequent +applause.</p> + +<p>A number of invitations were given for this first meeting of the +literary congress, which was held in one of the largest theatres of the +city. I had been fortunate enough to receive one of these cards, but +upon seeking for admission to the subsequent sittings of the congress, I +was told that no ladies were admitted to them. So you see that Lucy +Stone's favorite assertion that "women are people" does not hold good +everywhere.</p> + +<p>An esteemed Parisian friend had offered me an introduction to Victor +Hugo, and the great man had signified his willingness to receive a visit +from me. On the evening appointed for this visit, I called at his house, +accompanied by my daughter. We were first shown into an anteroom, and +presently into a small drawing-room, of which the walls and furniture +were covered with a striped satin material, in whose colors red +predominated. The<a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a> venerable viscount kissed my hand and that of my +young companion with the courtesy belonging to other times than the +present. He was of middle height, reasonably stout. His eyes were dark +and expressive, and his hair and beard snow-white. Several guests were +present,—among others, the widow of one of his sons, recently married +to a second husband.</p> + +<p>Victor Hugo seated himself alone upon a sofa, and talked to no one. +While the rest of the company kept up a desultory conversation, a +servant announced M. Louis Blanc, and our expectations were raised only +to be immediately lowered, for at this announcement Victor Hugo arose +and withdrew into another room, from which we were able to hear the two +voices in earnest conversation, but from which neither gentleman +appeared. Was not this disappointment like one of those dreams in which, +just as you are about to attain some object of intense desire, the power +of sleep deserts you, and you awake to life's plain prose?</p> + +<p class="top5">The shops of Paris are wonderfully well mounted and well served. The +display in the windows is not so large in proportion to the bulk of +merchandise as it is apt to be with us. Still, these windows do unfold a +catalogue of temptations longer than that of Don Giovanni's sins.</p> + +<p>Among them all, the jewellers' shops attract<a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a> most. The love of human +beings for jewelry is a feature almost universal. The savage will give +land for beads. The women of Christendom will do the same thing. I have +seen fine displays of this kind in London, Rome, and Geneva. But in +Paris, these exhibits seem to characterize a certain vivid passion for +adornment, which is kindled and kept alive in the minds of French women, +and is by them communicated to the feminine world at large.</p> + +<p>The French woman of condition wears nothing which can be called <i>outr</i>. +She loves costly attire, but her taste, and that of her costumer, are +perfect. She wears the most delicate and harmonious shades, and the most +graceful forms. She never caricatures the fashion by exaggerating it. +English women of the same social position are more inclined to what is +tawdry, and have surely a less perfect sense of color and adaptation.</p> + +<p>Parisians are very homesick people when obliged to forsake their +capital. Madame de Stal, in full view of the beautiful lake of Geneva, +said that she would much prefer a view of the gutter in the Rue de Bac, +which in her day had not the attractions of the Bon March emporium, so +powerful to-day.</p> + +<p class="top5">I should deserve ill of my subject if I failed to say that the great +issues of progress are to-day dearly and soberly held to by the +intelligence of<a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a> the French people, and the good faith of their +representatives. In the history of the present republic, the solid +interests of the nation have slowly and steadfastly gained ground.</p> + +<p>The efforts which forward these seem to me to culminate in the measures +which are intended at once to establish popular education and to defend +it from ecclesiastical interference. The craze for military glory is +also yielding before the march of civilization, and the ambitions which +build up society are everywhere gaining upon the passions which destroy +it.</p> + +<p>In the last forty-five years, the social relations of France to the +civilized world have undergone much alteration. The magnificent +traditions of ancient royalty have become entirely things of the past. +The genius of the first Napoleon has passed out of people's minds. The +social prestige of France is no longer appealed to, no longer felt.</p> + +<p>We read French novels, because French novelists have an admirable style +of narrating, but we no longer go to them for powerful ideals of life +and character. The modern world has outgrown the Gallic theories of sex. +We are tired of hearing about the women whose merit consists in their +loving everything better than their husbands. In this light artillery of +fashion and fiction, France no longer holds the place which was hers of +old.</p> + +<p><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>In losing these advantages, she has, I think, gained better things. The +struggle of the French people to establish and maintain a republic in +the face of and despite monarchical Europe is a heroic one, worthy of +all esteem and sympathy. In science, France has never lost her eminence. +In serious literature, in the practical philosophy of history, in +criticism of the highest order, the French are still masters in their +own way. Notwithstanding their evil legislation regarding women, their +medical authorities have been most generous to our women students of +medicine. Many of these have crossed the Atlantic to seek in France that +clinical study and observation from which they have been in great +measure debarred in our own country.</p> + +<p>There is still much bigotry and intolerance, much shallow scepticism and +false philosophy; but there is also, underneath all this, the germ of +great and generous qualities which place the nation high in the scale of +humanity.</p> + +<p>I should be glad to bind together these scattered statements into some +great, instructive lesson for France and for ourselves. Perhaps the best +thing that I can do in this direction will be to suggest to Americans +the careful study of French history and of French character. The great +divisions of the world to-day are invaded by travel, and the iron horse +carries civilization far and wide. Many of those who go abroad may, +however, be found to<a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a> have less understanding regarding foreign +countries than those who have learned all that may be learned concerning +them from history and literature. To many Americans, Paris is little +more than the place of shops and of fashions. I have been mortified +sometimes at the familiarity which our travellers show with all that may +be bought and sold on the other side of the ocean, combined with an +arrant and arrogant ignorance concerning the French people and the +country in which they live.</p> + +<p>Even to the most careful observer, the French are not easy to be +understood. The most opposite statements may be made about them. Some +call them noble; others, ignoble. To some, they appear turbulent and +ferocious; to others, slavish and cowardly. Great thinkers do not judge +them in this offhand way, and from such we may learn to make allowances +for the fact that monarchic and aristocratic rule create and foster +great inequalities of character and intelligence among the nations in +which they prevail. Limitations of mind and of opinion are inherited +from generations which have been dwarfed by political and spiritual +despotism; and in such countries, the success of liberal institutions, +even if emphatically assured, is but slowly achieved and established.</p> + +<p>A last word of mine shall commend this Paris to those who are yet to +visit it. Let me pray such as may have this experience not to suppose +that<a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a> they have read the wonderful riddle of this city's life when they +shall have seen a few of its shops, palaces, and picture-galleries. If +they wish to understand what the French people are, and why they are +what they are, they will have to study history, politics, and human +nature pretty deeply.</p> + +<p>If they wish to have an idea of what the French may become, they must +keep their faith in all that America finds precious and invaluable,—in +free institutions, in popular education, and, above all, in the heart of +the people. Never let them believe that while freedom ennobles the +Anglo-Saxon, it brutalizes the Gaul. Despotism brutalizes for long +centuries, and freedom cannot ennoble in a moment. But give it time and +room, and it will ennoble. And let Americans who go to Paris remember +that they should there represent republican virtue and intelligence.</p> + +<p>How far this is from being the case some of us may know, and others +guess. Americans who visit Paris very generally relax their rules of +decorum and indulge in practices which they would not venture to +introduce at home. Hence they are looked upon with some disfavor by the +more serious part of the French people, while the frivolous ridicule +them at will. But I could wish that, in visiting a nation to whom we +Americans owe so much, we could think of something besides our own +amusement and the buying of pretty things to adorn our<a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a> persons and our +houses. I could wish that we might visit schools, prisons, Protestant +churches, and hear something of the charities and reforms of the place, +and of what the best thinkers are doing and saying. I blush to think of +the gold which Americans squander in Paris, and of the bales of +merchandise of all sorts which we carry away. Far better would it be if +we made friends with the best people, exchanging with them our best +thought and experience, helping and being helped by them in the good +works which redeem the world. Better than the full trunk and empty +purse, which usually mark a return from Paris, will be a full heart and +a hand clasping across the water another hand, pure and resolute as +itself,—the hand of progress, the hand of order, the hand of brotherly +kindness and charity.</p> + +<p><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="Greece_Revisited" id="Greece_Revisited"></a>Greece Revisited</h3> + +<p><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a></p> + +<p class="text nind">I SPEAK of a country to which all civilized countries are deeply +indebted.</p> + +<p>The common speech of Europe and America shows this. In whatever way the +languages of the western world have been woven and got together, they +all show here and there some golden gleam which carries us back to the +Hellenic tongue. Philosophy, science, and common thought alike borrow +their phraseology from this ancient source.</p> + +<p>I need scarcely say by what a direct descent all arts may claim to have +been recreated by Greek genius, nor can I exaggerate the importance of +the Greek poets, philosophers, and historians in the history of +literature. Rules of correct thinking and writing, the nice balance of +rhetoric, the methods of oratory, the notions of polity, of the +correlations of social and national interests,—in all of these +departments the Greeks may claim to have been our masters, and may call +us their slow and blundering pupils.</p> + +<p>A wide interval lies between these glories and the Greece of to-day. +Nations, like individuals, have their period of growth and decay, their +limit of life, which human devices seem unable to prolong.<a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a> But while +systems of government and social organization change, race perseveres. +The Greeks, like the Hebrews, when scattered and powerless at home, have +been potent abroad. Deprived for centuries of political and national +existence, the spirit of their immortal literature, the power of their +subtle and ingenious mind, have leavened and fashioned the mind, not of +Europe only, but of the thinking world.</p> + +<p>Let us recall the briefest outline of the story. The states of ancient +Greece, always divided among themselves, in time invited the protection +of the Roman Empire, hoping thereby to attain peace and tranquillity. +Rome of to-day shows how her officials of old plundered the temples and +galleries of the Greeks, while her literary men admired and imitated the +Hellenic authors.</p> + +<p>At a later day, the beauty of the Orient seduced the stern heart of +Roman patriotism. A second Rome was built on the shores of the +Bosphorus,—a city whose beauty of position excelled even the dignity of +the seven hills. Greek and Roman, eastern and western, became mingled +and blent in a confusion with which the most patient scholar finds it +difficult to deal. Then came a political division,—eastern and western +empires, eastern and western churches, the Bishop of Rome and the +Patriarch of Constantinople. Other great changes follow. The western +empire crumbles, takes form again under<a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a> Charlemagne, finally +disappears. The eastern empire follows it. The Turk plants his standard +on the shores of the Bosphorus. The sacred city falls into his hands, +without contradiction, so far as Europe is concerned. The veil of a dark +and bloody barbarism hides the monuments of a most precious +civilization. It is the age of blood. The nations of Western Europe have +still the faith and the attributes of bandits. The Turkish ataghan is +stronger than the Greek pen and chisel. The new race has a military +power of which the old could only faintly dream.</p> + +<p>And so the last Constantine falls, and Mahmoud sweeps from earth the +traces of his reign. In the old Church of St. Sophia, now the Mosque of +Omar, men show to-day, far up on one of the columns, the impress of the +conqueror's bloody hand, which could only strike so high because the +floor beneath was piled fathom-deep with Christian corpses.</p> + +<p>Another period follows. The Turk establishes himself in his new domain, +and employs the Greek to subjugate the Greek. Upon each Greek family the +tribute of a male child is levied; and this child is bred up in Turkish +ways, and taught to turn his weapon against the bosom of his mother +country. From these babes of Christian descent was formed the corps of +the Janissaries, a force so dangerous and deadly that the representative +of Turkish rule<a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a> was forced at a later day to plan and accomplish its +destruction.</p> + +<p>The name "Greek" in this time no longer suggested a nation. I myself, in +my childhood, knew a young Greek, escaped from the massacres of Scio, +who told me that when, having learned English, he heard himself spoken +of as "the Greek," his first thought was that those who so spoke of him +were waiting to cut his throat.</p> + +<p>Now follows another epoch. Western Europe is busied in getting a little +civilization. Baptized mostly by force, <i>vi et armis</i>, she has still to +be Christianized: she has America to discover and to settle. She has to +go to school to the ghosts of Greece and Arabia, in order to have a +grammar and to learn arithmetic. There are some wars of religion, +endless wars for territorial aggrandizement. Europe is still a congress +of the beasts,—lion, tiger, boar, rhinoceros, all snared together by +the tortuous serpent of diplomacy.</p> + +<p>I pause, for out of this dark time came your existence and mine. A small +barque crosses the sea; a canoe steals toward the issue of a mighty +river. Such civilization as Europe has plants itself out in a new +country, in a virgin soil; and in the new domain are laid the +foundations of an empire whose greatness is destined to reside in her +peaceful and beneficent offices. Her task it shall be to feed the +starving emigrant, to give land and free citizenship<a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a> to those +dispossessed of both by the greed of the old feudal systems.</p> + +<p>In the fulness of this young nation's life, a cry arose from that +ancient mother of arts and sciences. The Greek had arisen from his long +sleep, had become awake to the fact that civilization is more potent +than barbarism. Strong in this faith, Greece had closed in a death +struggle with the assassin of her national life. Through the enthusiasm +of individuals, not through the policy of governments, the desperate, +heroic effort received aid. From the night of ages, from the sea of +blood, Greece arose, shorn of her fair proportions, pointing to her +ruined temples, her mutilated statues, her dishonored graves.</p> + +<p>Americans may be thankful that this strange resurrection was not beheld +by our fathers with indifference. From their plenty, a duteous tribute +more than once went forth to feed and succor the country to which all +owe so much. And so an American, to-day, can look upon the Acropolis +without a blush—though scarcely without a tear.</p> + +<p>Contenting myself with this brief retrospect, I must turn from the page +of history to the record of individual experience.</p> + +<p>My first visit to Athens was in the year 1867. The Cretans were at this +time engaged in an energetic struggle for their freedom, and my husband +was the bearer of certain funds which he<a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a> and others had collected in +America for the relief of the destitute families of the insurgents. A +part of this money was employed in sending provisions to the Island of +Crete, where the women and children had taken refuge in the fortresses +of the mountains, subject to great privations, and in danger of absolute +starvation.</p> + +<p>With the remainder of the fund, schools were endowed in Athens for the +children of the Cretan refugees. My husband's efforts were seconded by +an able Greek committee; and when, at the close of his labors, he turned +his face homeward, he was followed by the prayers and thanksgivings of +those whose miseries he had been enabled to relieve.</p> + +<p>Nearly ten years later than the time just spoken of, I again threaded my +way between the isles of Greece and arrived at the Pirus, the ancient +port of Athens. A railway now connects these two points; but on this +occasion, we did not avail ourselves of it, preferring to take a +carriage for the short distance.</p> + +<p>In approaching Athens for the second time, my first surprise was to find +that it had grown to nearly double the size which I remembered ten years +before. The cleanly, thrifty, and cheerful aspect of the city presented +the greatest contrast to the squalor and filth of Constantinople, which +I had just left. The perfect blue of the heavens brought out<a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a> in fine +effect the white marble of the new buildings, some of which are costly +and even magnificent. Yet there, in full sight, towering above +everything else, stood the unattainable beauty, the unequalled, +unrivalled Parthenon.</p> + +<p>I made several pilgrimages to the Acropolis, eager to revive my +recollection respecting the design and history of its various monuments. +I listened again and again to the statements of well-read archologists +concerning the uses of the temples, the positions of the statues and +bas-reliefs, the hundred gates, and the triumphal road which led up to +the height crowned with glories.</p> + +<p>But while I gave ear to what is more easily forgotten than +remembered,—the story of the long-vanished past,—my eyes received the +impression of a beauty that cannot perish. I did not say to the +Parthenon: Thou <i>wert</i>, but, Thou <i>art</i> so beautiful, in thy perfect +proportion, in thy fine workmanship!</p> + +<p>What silver chisel turned the tender leaves of this marble foliage? Here +is a little bit, a yard or so, which has escaped the gnawing of the +elements, lying turned away from the course of the winds and rains! No +king of to-day, in building his palace, can order such a piece of work. +Artist he can find none to equal it. And I am proud to say that no king +nor millionaire to-day can buy this, or any<a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a> other fragment belonging to +this sacred spot. What England took before Greece became a power again, +she may keep, because the British Museum is a treasure-house for the +world. But she will never repeat the theft: she is too wise to-day. +Christendom is too wise, and the Greeks have learned the value of what +they still possess.</p> + +<p>At the Acropolis, the theatre of Bacchus had been excavated a short time +before my previous visit. Near it they have now brought to light the +temple of sculapius. This temple, with the theatre of Bacchus and that +of Herodius Atticus, occupies the base of the Acropolis, on the side +that looks toward the sea.</p> + +<p>As one stands in the light of the perfect sky, discerning in the +distance that perfect sea, something of the cheerfulness of the ancient +Greeks makes itself felt, seems to pervade the landscape. Descending to +the theatre of Bacchus, the visitor may call up in his mind the vision +of the high feast of mirth and hilarity. Here was the stage; here are, +still entire, the marble seats occupied by the priests and other high +dignitaries, with one or two interesting bas-reliefs of the god.</p> + +<p>When I visited Greece in 1867, I found no proper museum containing the +precious fragments and works of art still left to the much-plundered +country. Some of these were preserved in the<a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a> Theseion, a fine temple +well known to many by engravings. They were, however, very ill-arranged, +and could not be seen with comfort. I now found all my old favorites and +many others enshrined in the three museums which had been added to the +city during my absence.</p> + +<p>One of them is called the Barbakion. It contains, among other things, a +number of very ancient vases, on one of which the soul is represented by +a female figure with wings. Among these vases is a series relating to +family events, one showing a funeral, one a nativity, while two others +commemorate a bridal occasion. In one of these last, the bride sits +holding Eros in her arms, while her attendants present the wedding +gifts; in the other, moves the bridal procession, accompanied by music. +Here are preserved many small figures in clay, commonly spoken of in +Greece as the Tanagra dolls. A fine collection of these has been given +to the Boston Art Museum by a well-known patron of all arts, the late +Thomas G. Appleton. Here we saw a cremating pot of bronze, containing +the charred remains of a human body. I afterwards saw—at the Keramika, +an ancient cemetery—the stone vase from which this pot was taken.</p> + +<p>Among the objects shown at this museum was a beautiful set of gold +jewelry found in the cemetery just mentioned. It consisted of armlets, +bracelets,<a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a> ear-rings, and a number of finger-rings, among which was one +of the coiled serpents so much in vogue to-day. I found here some +curious flat-bottomed pitchers, with a cocked-hat cover nicely fitted +on. This Greek device may have supplied the pattern for the first cocked +hat,—Dr. Holmes has told us about the last.</p> + +<p>But nothing in this collection impressed me more than did an ancient +mask cast from a dead face. This mask had lately been made to serve as a +matrix; and a plaster cast, newly taken from it, gave us clearly the +features and expression of the countenance, which was removed from us by +ons of time.</p> + +<p>A second museum is that built at the Acropolis, which contains many +fragments of sculpture, among which I recognized a fine bas-relief +representing three women carrying water-jars, and a small figure of +wingless Victory, both of which I had seen twelve years before, exposed +to the elements.</p> + +<p>But the principal museum of the city, a fine building of dazzling white +marble, is the patriotic gift of a wealthy Greek, who devoted to this +object a great part of his large fortune. In this building are arranged +a number of the ancient treasures brought to light through the +persevering labors of Dr. and Mrs. Schliemann. As the doctor has +published a work giving a detailed account of these articles, I will +mention only a few of them.<a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a></p> + +<p>Very curious in form are the gold cups found in the treasury of +Agamemnon. They are shaped a little like a flat champagne glass, but do +not expand at the base, standing somewhat insecurely upon the +termination of their stems. Here, too, are masks of thin beaten gold, +which have been laid upon the faces of the dead. Rings, ear-rings, +brooches, and necklaces there are in great variety; among the first, two +gold signet rings of marked beauty. I remember, also, several sets of +ornaments, resembling buttons, in gold and enamel.</p> + +<p>From the main building, we passed into a fine gallery filled with +sculptures, many of which are monumental in character. I will here +introduce two pages from my diary, written almost on the spot:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Nothing that I have seen in Athens or elsewhere impresses me like +the Greek marbles which I saw yesterday in the museum, most of +which have been found and gathered since my visit in 1867. A single +monumental slab had then been excavated, which, with the help of +Pausanias, identified the site of the ancient Keramika, a place of +burial. Here have been found many tombs adorned with bas-reliefs, +with a number of vases and several statues. How fortunate has been +the concealment of these works of art until our time, by which, +escaping Roman rapacity and Turkish barbarism, they have survived +the wreck of ages, to show us, to-day, the spirit of family life +among the ancient Greeks! Italy herself possesses no Greek relics +equal in this respect to those which I contemplated yesterday. For +any student of art or of history, it is worth crossing the ocean +and encountering all fatigues to read this imperishable record of<a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a> +human sentiment and relation; for while the works of ancient art +already familiar to the public show us the artistic power and the +sense of beauty with which this people were so marvellously +endowed, these marbles make evident the feelings with which they +regarded their dead.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the first lesson one draws from their contemplation is the +eternity, so to speak, of the family affections. No words nor work +have ever portrayed a regard more tender than is shown in these +family groups, in which the person about to depart is represented +in a sitting posture, while his nearest friends or relatives stand +near, expressing in their countenances and action the sorrow and +pathos of the final separation. Here an aged father gives the last +blessing to the son who survives and mourns him. Here a dying +mother reclines, surrounded by a group of friends, one of whom +bears in her arms the infant whose birth, presumably, cost the +mother her life. Two other slabs represent partings between a +mother and her child. In one of these the young daughter holds to +her bosom a dove, in token of the innocence of her tender age. In +the other, the mother is bending over the daughter with a sweet, +sad seriousness. Other groups show the parting of husband and wife, +friend from friend; and I now recall one of these in which the +expression of the clasped hands of two individuals excels in +tenderness anything that I have ever seen in paint or marble. The +Greeks, usually so reserved in their portrayal of nature, seem in +these instances to have laid aside the calm cloak of restraint +which elsewhere enwrapped them, in order to give permanent +expression to the tender and beautiful associations which hallow +death.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><small>TWO DRAMAS</small></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the Bacchus theatre,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With the wreck of countless years,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The thought of the ancient jollity</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Moved me almost to tears.<a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bacchus, the god who brightens life</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With sudden, rosy gleam,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lighting the hoary face of Age</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With Youth's surpassing dream,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The tide that swells the human heart</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With inspiration high,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ebbing and sinking at sunset fall</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To dim eternity.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">———</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the halls where treasured lie</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The monumental stones</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That stood where men no longer leave</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The mockery of their bones,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Why did I smile at the marble griefs</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Who wept for the bygone joy?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Within that sorrow dwells a good</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That Time can ne'er destroy.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Th' immortal depths of sympathy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">All measurements transcend,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And in man's living marble seal</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The love he bears his friend.</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>It would take me long to tell how much Athens has been enriched by the +munificence of her wealthy merchants, whose shrewdness and skill in +trade are known all over the world. Of some of these, dying abroad, the +words may well be quoted: "<i>Moriens reminiscitur Argos</i>," as they have +bequeathed for the benefit of their beloved city the sums of money<a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a> +which have a permanent representation in the public buildings I have +mentioned, and many others. Better still than this, a number of +individuals of this class have returned to Greece, to end their days +beneath their native skies, and the social resources of the metropolis +are enlarged by their presence.</p> + +<p>This leads us to what may interest many more than statements concerning +buildings and antiquities,—the social aspect of Athens.</p> + +<p>The court and high society, or what is called such, asks our first +attention. The royal palace, a very fine one, was built by King Otho. +The present King and Queen are very simple in their tastes. One meets +them walking among the ruins and elsewhere in plain dress, with no other +escort than a large dog. The visit which I now describe took place in +Carnival time, and we heard, on our arrival, of a court ball, for which +we soon received cards. We were admonished by the proper parties to come +to the palace before nine o'clock, in order that we might be in the +ball-room before the entrance of the King and Queen. We repaired thither +accordingly, and, passing through a hall lined with officials and +servants in livery, ascended the grand staircase, and were soon in a +very elegant ball-room, well filled with a creditable <i>beau monde</i>. The +servants of the palace all wore Palikari costume,—the white skirt and +full-sleeved shirt, with embroidered vest and leggings. The ladies +present were<a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a> attired with a due regard for Paris in general, and for +Worth in particular. The gentlemen were either in uniform, or in that +inexpressibly sleek and mournful costume which is called "evening +dress."</p> + +<p>We were presently introduced to the maids of honor, one of whom bore the +historic name of Kolokotronis. They were dressed in white, and wore +badges on which the crown and the King's initial letter were wrought in +small brilliants. Many of the ladies displayed beautiful diamonds.</p> + +<p>Presently a hush fell on the rapidly talking assembly. People ranged +themselves in a large circle, and the sovereigns entered. The Queen wore +a dress of white tulle embroidered with red over white silk, and a +garland of flowers in which the same color predominated. Her corsage was +adorned with knots of diamonds and rubies, and she wore a complete +<i>parure</i> of the same costly stones. Their majesties made the round of +the circle. We, as strangers, were at once presented to the Queen, who +with great affability said to me: "I hear that you have been in Egypt, +and that your daughter ascended the great Pyramid." I made as low a +courtesy as was consistent with my dignity as president of a number of +clubs. One or two further remarks were interchanged, and the lovely, +gracious blonde moved on.</p> + +<p>When the presentations and salutations were over, the royal pair +proceeded to open the ball, having<a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a> each some high and mighty partner +for the first <i>contredanse</i>. The Queen is very fond of dancing, and is +happier than some other queens in being allowed to waltz to her heart's +content.</p> + +<p>There were at the ball three of our fellow-countrymen who could dance. +Two of them wore the uniform of our navy, and had kept it very fresh and +brilliant. These Terpsichorean gentlemen were matched by three ladies +well versed in the tactics of the German. Suddenly a swanlike, circling +movement began to distinguish itself from the quick, hopping, German +waltz which prevails everywhere in Europe. People looked on with +surprise, which soon brightened into admiration. And if any one had said +to me: "What is that, mother?" I should have replied: "The Boston, my +child."</p> + +<p>Lest the Queen's familiarity with my movements should be thought to +imply some previous acquaintance between us, I must venture a few words +of explanation.</p> + +<p>In the first place, I must mention a friend, Mr. Paraskevades, who had +been very helpful to Dr. Howe and myself on the occasion of our visit to +Athens in 1867. This gentleman was one of the first to greet my daughter +and myself, when she, for the first, and I, for the second time, arrived +in Athens. It was from him that we heard of the court ball just +mentioned, and through him that we received the cards enabling us to +attend it. I had<a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a> given Mr. Paraskevades a copy of the <i>Woman's +Journal</i>, published in Boston, containing a letter of mine describing a +recent visit to Cairo and the Pyramids. Our friend called at the palace +to speak of my presence in Athens to the proper authorities, and by +chance encountered the Queen as she was stepping into her carriage for a +drive. He told her that the widow and daughter of Dr. Howe would attend +the evening's ball. She asked what he held in his hand. "A paper, +printed in Boston, containing a letter written by Mrs. Howe." "Lend it +to me," said the Queen. "I wish to read Mrs. Howe's letter." Thus it was +that the Queen was able to greet me with so pleasant a mark of interest.</p> + +<p>The King and Queen withdrew just before supper was announced, which was +very considerate on their part; for, as royal personages may not eat +with others, we could not have had our supper if they had not taken +theirs elsewhere. We were then escorted to the banquet hall, where were +spread a number of tables, at which the guests stood, and regaled +themselves with such customary viands as cold chicken, salad, +sandwiches, ices, and fruit. All of the usual wines were served in +profusion, with nice black coffee to keep people awake for the German, +or, as it is called in Europe, the <i>cotillon</i>. And presently we marched +back to the ball-room, and the sovereigns re-appeared. The <i>Germanites</i> +took chairs, the chaperons kept their modest distance,<a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a> and the thing +that hath no end began, the Queen making the first loop in the mazy +weaving of the dance. The next thing that I remember was, three o'clock +in the morning, a sleepy drive in a carriage, and the talk that you +always hear going home from a party. Now, I ask, was not this orthodox?</p> + +<p>This being the gay season of the year, we were present at various +festivities whose elegance would have done honor to London or Paris. I +particularly remember, among these, a fancy ball at the house of Mr. and +Mrs. Zyngros. Our hostess was a beautiful woman, and looked every inch a +queen, as she stood at the head of her stately marble stairway, in the +gold and crimson costume of Catherine de Medici. The ball-room was +thronged with Spanish gipsies, Elizabethan nobles, harlequins, Arcadian +shepherds, and Greek peasants. I may also mention another ball, at which +a band of maskers made their appearance, splendidly attired, and voluble +with the squeaking tone which usually accompanies a mask. The master and +mistress of the house were prepared for this interruption, which added +greatly to the gaiety of the occasion.</p> + +<p>I have given a little outline of these gay doings, in order that you may +know that the modern Athens is entitled to boast that she possesses all +the appliances of civilization. Now let me say a<a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a> few words of things +more interesting to people of thoughtful minds.</p> + +<p>I remember with great pleasure an evening passed beneath the roof of Dr. +and Mrs. Schliemann. Well known as is Dr. Schliemann by reputation, it +is less generally known that his wife, a Greek woman, has had very much +to do with both his studies and the success of his excavations. She is +considered in Greece a woman of unusual culture, being well versed in +the ancient literature of her country. I was present once at a lecture +which she gave in London, before the Royal Historical Society. At the +close of the lecture, Lord Talbot de Malahide announced that Mrs. +Schliemann had been elected a member of the society. The Duke of Argyll +was present on this occasion, and among those who commented upon the +opinions advanced in the lecture was Mr. Gladstone. Mrs. Schliemann, +however, bears her honors very modestly, and is a charming hostess, +gracious and friendly, thoroughly liked and esteemed in this her native +country, and elsewhere.</p> + +<p>The <i>soire</i> at Mrs. Schliemann's was merely a conventional reception, +with dancing to the music of a pianoforte. We were informed that our +hostess was suffering from the fatigues undergone in assisting her +husband's labors, and that the music and dancing were introduced to +spare her the strain of<a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a> overmuch conversation. She was able, however, +to receive morning visitors on one day of every week, and I took +advantage of this opportunity to see her again. I spoke of her little +boy, a child of two years, who had been pointed out to me in the Park, +by my friend Paraskevades. He bore the grandiose name of Agamemnon. +Presently we heard the voice of a child below stairs, and Mrs. +Schliemann said: "That is my baby; he has just come in with his nurse." +I asked that we might see him, and the nurse brought him into the +drawing-room. At sight of us, he began to kick and scream. Wishing to +soothe him, I said: "Poor little Agamemnon!" Mrs. Schliemann rejoined: +"I say, nasty little Agamemnon!"</p> + +<p>Is it to be supposed that I entered and left Athens without uttering the +cabalistic word "club"? By no means. I found myself one day invited to +speak to a number of ladies, at a friend's house, upon a theme of my own +choosing; and this theme was, "The Advancement of Women as Promoted by +Association." My audience, numbering about forty, was the best that +could be gathered in Athens. I found there, as I have found elsewhere in +Europe, great need of the new life which association gives, but little +courage to take the first step in a new direction. I could only scratch +my furrow, drop my seed, and wait, like <i>Miss Flyte</i>, in "Bleak<a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a> House," +for a result, if need be, "on the day of judgment."</p> + +<p>It is a delight to speak of a deeper furrow which was drawn, ten years +earlier, by an abler hand than mine, though several of us gave some help +in the work done at that time. I allude to the efforts made by my dear +husband in behalf of the suffering Cretans, when they were struggling +bravely for the freedom which Europe still denies them. Some of the +money raised by his earnest efforts, as I have already said, found its +way to the then desolate island, in the shape of provisions and clothing +for the wives and children of the combatants. Some of it remained in +Athens, and paid for the education of a whole generation of Cretan +children exiled from their homes, and rendered able, through the aid +thus afforded, to earn their own support.</p> + +<p>Some of the money, moreover, went to found an industrial establishment +in Athens, which has since been continued and enlarged by funds derived +from other sources. This establishment began with two or three looms, +the Cretan women being expert weavers, and the object being to enable +them to earn their bread in a strange city. And it now has at least a +dozen looms, and the Dorian mothers, stately and powerful, sit at them +all day long, weaving dainty silken webs, gossamer stuffs, strong cotton +fabrics, and serviceable carpets.<a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a></p> + +<p>In those days I saw Marathon for the first time, and learned the truth +of Lord Byron's lines:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">The mountains look on Marathon,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And Marathon looks on the sea.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>This expedition occupied the whole of a winter day. We started from the +hotel after early breakfast, and did not regain it until long after +dark. Our carriages were accompanied by an escort of dragoons, which the +Greek government supplies, not in view of any real danger from brigands, +but in order to afford strangers every possible security. A drive of +some three hours brought us to the spot.</p> + +<p>A level plain, between the mountains and the sea; a mound, raised at its +centre, marking the burial-place of those who fell in the famous battle; +a sea-beach, washed by blue waves, and basking in the golden Attic +sunlight—this is what we saw at Marathon.</p> + +<p>Here we gathered pebbles, and I preserved for some days a knot of +daisies growing in a grassy clod of earth. But my mind saw in Marathon +an earnest of the patriotic spirit which has lifted Greece from such +ruin as the Persians were never able to inflict upon her. Worthy +descendants of those ancient heroes were the patriots who fought, in our +own century, the war of Greek independence. I am glad to think that all +heroic deeds have a<a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a> fatherhood of their own, whose line never becomes +extinct.</p> + +<p>Those who would institute a comparison between ancient and modern art +should first compare the office of art in ancient times with the +function assigned it in our own.</p> + +<p>The sculptures of classic Greece were primarily the embodiment of its +popular theology and the record of its patriotic heroism. They are not, +as we might think them, fancy-free. The marble gods of Hellas +characterize for us the <i>morale</i> of that ancient community. They +expressed the religious conviction of the artist, and corresponded to +the faith of the multitude. If we recognize the freedom of imagination +in their conception, we also feel the reverence which guided the +sculptor in their execution. As Emerson has said:—</p> + +<p class="c">Himself from God he could not free.</p> + +<p>How necessary these marbles were to the devotion of the time, we may +infer from the complaint reported in one of Cicero's orations,—that a +certain Greek city had been so stripped of its marbles that its people +had no god left to pray to.</p> + +<p>In the city of the Csars, this Greek art became the minister of luxury. +The ethics of the Roman people chiefly concerned their relation to the +state, to which their church was in great measure subservient.<a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a> The +statues stolen from the worship of the Greeks adorned the baths and +palaces of the Emperors. This we must think providential for us, since +it is in this way that they have escaped the barbarous destruction which +for ages swept over the whole of Greece, and to whose rude force, +column, monument, and statue were only raw material for the lime-kiln.</p> + +<p>Still more secondary is the position of sculpture in the civilization of +to-day. Here and there a monument or statue commemorates some great name +or some great event. But these are still outside the current of our +daily life. Marble is to us a gospel of death, and we grow less and less +fond of its cold abstraction. The glitter of <i>bric--brac</i>, bits of +color, an unexpected shimmer here and there—such are the favorite +aspects of art with us.</p> + +<p>In saying this, I remember that many beautiful works of art have been +purchased by wealthy Americans, and that a surprising number of our +people know what is worth purchasing in this line. And yet I think that +in the houses of these very people, art is rather the servant of luxury +than the embodiment of any strong and sincere affection.</p> + +<p>We cannot turn back the tide of progress. We cannot make our religion +sculpturesque and picturesque. God forbid that we should! But we can +look upon the sculptures of ancient Greece with<a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a> reverent appreciation, +and behold in them a record of the nave and simple faith of a great +people.</p> + +<p>If we must speak thus of plastic art, what shall we say of the drama?</p> + +<p>Sit down with me before this palace of Œdipus, whose faade is the +only scenic aid brought to help the illusion of the play. See how the +whole secret and story of the hero's fate is wrought out before its +doors, which open upon his youthful strength and glory, and close upon +his desolate shame and blindness. Follow the majestic tread of the +verse, the perfect progress of the action, and learn the deep reverence +for the unseen powers which lifts and spiritualizes the agony of the +plot.</p> + +<p>Where shall we find a parallel to this in the drama of our day? The most +striking contrast to it will be furnished by what we call a "realistic" +play, which is a play devised upon the supposition that those who will +attend its representation are not possessed of any imagination, but must +be dazzled through their eyes and deafened through their ears, until the +fatigue of the senses shall take the place of intellectual pleasure. The +<i>dnouement</i> will, no doubt, present, as it can, the familiar moral that +virtue is in the end rewarded, and vice punished. But such virtue! and +such vice! How shall we be sure which is which?</p> + +<p>During this visit, I had an interview which<a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a> brought me face to face +with some of the Cretan chiefs, who were exiles in Athens at the time of +my visit, in consequence of their participation in the more recent +efforts of the Islanders to free themselves from the Turkish rule.</p> + +<p>I received, one day, official notice that a committee, appointed by a +number of the Cretan exiles, desired permission to wait upon me, with +the view of presenting an address which should recognize the efforts +made by Dr. Howe in behalf of their unfortunate country. In accordance +with this request, I named an hour on the following day, and at the +appointed time my guests made their appearance. The Cretan chiefs were +five in number. All of them, but one, were dressed in the picturesque +costume of their country. This one was Katzi Michlis, the youngest of +the party, and somewhat more like the world's people than the others. +Two of these were very old men, one of them numbering eighty-four years, +and bearing a calm and serene front, like one of Homer's heroes. This +was old Korakas, who had only laid down his arms within two years. The +chiefs were accompanied by several gentlemen, residents of Athens. One +of these, Mr. Rainieri, opened proceedings by a few remarks in French, +setting forth the object of the visit, and introducing the address of +the Cretan committee, which he read in their own tongue:—<a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Madam</span>,—</p> + +<p>We, the undersigned, emigrants from Crete, who await in free Greece +the complete emancipation of our country, have learned with +pleasure the fact of your presence in Athens. We feel assured that +we shall faithfully interpret the sentiments of our +fellow-countrymen by saluting your return to this city, and by +assuring you, at the same time, that the remembrance of the +benefits conferred by your late illustrious husband is always +living in our hearts. When the sun of liberty shall arise upon the +Island of Crete, the Cretans will, no doubt, decree the erection of +a monument which will attest to succeeding generations the +gratitude of our country toward her noble benefactor. For the +moment, Madam, deign to accept the simple expression of our +sentiments, and our prayers for the prosperity of your family and +your nation, to which we and our children shall ever be bound by +the ties of gratitude.</p></div> + +<p>The substance of my reply to Mr. Rainieri was as follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My Dear Sir</span>,—</p> + +<p>I beg that you will express to these gentlemen my gratitude for +their visit, and for the sentiments communicated in the address to +which I have just listened. I am much moved by the mention made of +the services which my late illustrious husband was able to render +to the cause of Greece in his youth, and to that of Crete in his +later life. It is true that his earliest efforts, outside of his +native country, were for Greek independence, and that his latest +endeavors in Europe were made in aid of the Cretans, who have +struggled with so much courage and perseverance to deliver their +country from the yoke of Turkish oppression. Pray assure these +gentlemen that my children and I will never cease to pray for the +welfare of Greece, and especially for the emancipation of<a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a> Crete. +Though myself already in the decline of life, I yet hope that I +shall live long enough to see the deliverance of your island, +<span title="Greek: tn eleutherian ts Krts"> τἡν ἑλευθερἱαν τἡς Κρἡτης.</span></p></div> + +<p>A Greek newspaper's report of this occasion remarked:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The last words of Mrs. Howe's reply, spoken in Greek, brought tears +to the eyes of the heroes, most of whom had known the +ever-memorable Dr. Howe in the glorious days of the war of 1821, +and had fought with him against the oppressors. Mr. Rainieri +interpreted the meaning of Mrs. Howe's words to his +fellow-citizens. After this, Mrs. Howe gave orders for +refreshments, and began to talk slowly, but distinctly, in Greek, +to the great pleasure of all present, who heard directly from her +the voice of her heart.</p></div> + +<p>I will only add that all parties stood during the official part of the +interview. This being at an end, coffee and cordials were brought, and +we sat at ease, and chatted as well as my limited use of the modern +Greek tongue allowed. Before we separated, one of the Greeks present +invited the chiefs and myself and daughter to a feast which he proposed +to give at Phaleron, in honor of the meeting which I have just +described.</p> + +<p>Some account of this festivity may not be uninteresting to my readers. I +must premise that it was to be no banquet of modern fashion, but a feast +of the Homeric sort, in which a lamb, roasted whole in the open air, +would be the principal dish. Phaleron, where it was appointed to take +place, is an<a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a> ancient port, only three miles distant from Athens. The +sea view from this point is admirable. The bay is small, and its +surroundings are highly picturesque. Classic as was the occasion, the +unclassic railway furnished our conveyance.</p> + +<p>The Cretan chiefs came punctually to the station, and presently we all +entered a parlor-car, and were whisked off to the scene of action. This +was the hotel at Phaleron, where we found a long table handsomely set +out, and adorned with fruits and flowers. The company dispersed for a +short time,—some to walk by the shore; some to see the lambs roasting +on their spit in the courtyard; I, to sit quietly for half an hour, +after which interval, dinner was announced.</p> + +<p>Mr. Rainieri gave me his arm, and seated me on his right. On my right +sat Katzi Michlis. My daughter and a young cousin were twined in like +blooming roses between the gray old chieftains. Paraskevades, the giver +of the feast, looked all aglow with pleasure and enthusiasm. Our soup +was served,—quite a worldly, French soup. But the Greeks insist that +the elaborate style of cookery usually known as French originated with +them. Then came a Cretan dish consisting of the liver and entrails of +the lambs, twisted and toasted on a spit. Some modern <i>entremets</i> +followed, and then, as <i>pice de rsistance</i>, the lambs, with +accompanying salad. Each of the elder chiefs, before tasting<a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a> his first +glass of wine, rose and saluted the company, making especial obeisance +to the master of the feast.</p> + +<p>The Homeric rage of hunger and thirst having been satisfied, it became +time for us to make the most of a reunion so rare in its elements, and +necessarily so brief. I will here quote partially the report given in +one of the Greek papers of the time. The writer says: "During dinner +many warm toasts were drunk. Mr. Rainieri drank to the health of Mrs. +Howe. Mr. Paraskevades drank to the memory of Dr. Howe and the health +of all freedom-loving Americans, giving his toast first in Greek and +afterwards in English. To all this, Mrs. Howe made answer in French, +with great sympathy and eloquence." So the paper said, but I will only +say that I did as well as I was able.</p> + +<p>At the mention of Dr. Howe's name, old Korakas rose, and said: "I assure +Mrs. Howe that when, with God's will, Crete becomes free, the Cretans +will erect a statue to the memory of her ever-memorable husband." At +this time, I thought it only right to propose the memory of President +Felton, former president of Harvard University, in his day an ardent +lover of Greek literature, and of the land which gave it birth. The +eldest son of this lamented friend sat with us at the table, and had +become so proficient in the language of the country as to be able to +acknowledge the compliment<a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a> in Greek, which the reporter qualifies as +excellent. Apropos of this same reporter, let me say that he entered so +heartily into the spirit of the feast as to improvise on the spot some +lines of poetry, of which the following is a free translation:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">I greet the warriors of brave Crete</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Assembled in this place.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Each of them represents her mountains,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Each her heart, each her breath.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">If life may be measured by struggles,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">So great is her life,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">That on the day when she becomes free</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Two worlds will be filled with the joy of her freedom.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>The report says truly that the heroes of Crete, with their white beards, +resembled gods of Olympus. The three oldest—Korakas, Kriaris, and +Syphacus—spoke of the days in which Dr. Howe, while taking part with +them in the military operations of the war of Greek independence, at the +same time made his medical skill availing to the sick and wounded.</p> + +<p>When we had risen from the board, passing into another room, my daughter +saw a ball lying on the table, and soon engaged the ancient chiefs in +the pastime of throwing and catching it. "See," said one of the company, +"Dr. Howe's daughter is playing with the men who, fifty years ago, were +her father's companions in arms."<a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a></p> + +<p>After the simple patriarchal festivity, the return, even to Athens, +seemed a return to the commonplace.</p> + +<p>A word regarding the Greek church belongs here. Its ritual represents, +without doubt, the most ancient form of worship which can have +representation in these days. The church calls itself simply orthodox. +It classes Christians as orthodox, Romanist, and Protestant, and +condemns the two last-named confessions of faith equally as heresies. +The Greek church in Greece has little zeal for the propaganda of its +special doctrine, but it has great zeal against the introduction of any +other sect within the boundaries of its domain. Protestant and Catholic +congregations are tolerated in Greece, but the attempt to educate Greek +children in the tenets held by either is not tolerated, is in fact +prohibited by government. I found the religious quiet of Athens somewhat +disturbed by the presence of several missionaries, supported by funds +from America, who persisted in teaching and preaching; one, after the +form of the Baptist, another, after that of the Presbyterian body. The +schools formerly established in connection with these missions have been +forcibly closed, because those in charge of them would not submit them +to the religious authority of the Greek priesthood.</p> + +<p>The Sunday preaching of the missionaries, on the other hand, still went +on, making converts from<a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a> time to time, and supplying certainly a direct +and vivid influence quite other than the extremely formal teaching of +the state church. The most prominent of these missionaries are Greeks +who have received their education in America, and who combine a fervent +love for their mother country with an equally fervent desire for her +religious progress. One can easily understand the attachment of the +Greeks to their national church. It has been the ark of safety by which +their national existence has been preserved.</p> + +<p>When the very name of Hellene was almost obliterated from the minds of +those entitled to bear it, the Greek priesthood were unwearied in +keeping alive the love of the ancient ritual and doctrine, the belief in +the Christian religion. This debt of gratitude is warmly remembered by +the Greeks of to-day, and their church is still to them the symbol of +national, as well as of religious, unity. On the other hand, the +progress of religious thought and culture carries inquiring minds beyond +the domain of ancient and literal interpretation, and the outward +conformity which society demands is counter-balanced by much personal +scepticism and indifference. The missionaries, who cannot compete in +polite learning with the <i>lite</i> of their antagonists, are yet much +better informed than the greater part of the secular clergy, and +represent, besides, something of American freedom, and the right and +duty<a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a> of doing one's own thinking in religious matters, and of accepting +doctrines, if at all, with a living faith and conviction, not with a +dead and formal assent. It is one of those battles between the Past and +the Future which have to fight themselves out to an issue that outsiders +cannot hasten.</p> + +<p>Shall I close these somewhat desultory remarks with any attempt at a +lesson which may be drawn from them? Yes; to Americans I will say: Love +Greece. Be glad of the men who rose up from your midst at the cry of her +great anguish, to do battle in her behalf. Be glad of the money which +you or your fathers sent to help her. America never spends money better +than in this way. Remember what this generation may be in danger of +forgetting,—that we can never be so great ourselves as to be absolved +from regarding the struggle for freedom, in the remotest corners of the +earth, with tender sympathy and interest. And in the great reactions +which attend human progress, when self-interest is acknowledged as the +supreme god everywhere, and the ideals of justice and honor are set out +of sight and derided, let the heart of this country be strong to protest +against military usurpation, against barbarous rule. Let America invite +to her shores the dethroned heroes of liberal thought and policy, saying +to them: "Come and abide with us; we have a country, a hand, a heart, +for you."<a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="The_Salon_in_America" id="The_Salon_in_America"></a>The Salon in America</h3> + +<p><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a></p> + +<p class="text nind">THE word "society" has reached the development of two opposite meanings. +The generic term applies to the body politic <i>en masse</i>; the specific +term is technically used to designate a very limited portion of that +body. The use, nowadays, of the slang expression "sassiety" is evidence +that we need a word which we do not as yet possess.</p> + +<p>It is with this department of the human fellowship that I now propose to +occupy myself, and especially with one of its achievements, considered +by some a lost art,—the salon.</p> + +<p>This prelude of mine is somewhat after the manner of <i>Polonius</i>, but, as +Shakespeare must have had occasion to observe, the mind of age has ever +a retrospective turn. Those of us who are used to philosophizing must +always go back from a particular judgment to some governing principle +which we have found, or think we have found, in long experience. The +question whether salons are possible in America leads my thoughts to +other questions which appear to me to lie behind this one, and which +primarily concern the well-being of civilized man.<a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a></p> + +<p>The uses of society, in the sense of an assemblage for social +intercourse, may be briefly stated as follows: first of all, such +assemblages are needed, in order to make people better friends. +Secondly, they are needed to enlarge the individual mind by the +interchange of thought and expression with other minds. Thirdly, they +are needed for the utilization of certain sorts and degrees of talent +which would not be available either for professional, business, or +educational work, but which, appropriately combined and used, can +forward the severe labors included under these heads, by the +instrumentality of sympathy, enjoyment, and good taste.</p> + +<p>Any social custom or institution which can accomplish one or more of +these ends will be found of important use in the work of civilization; +but here, as well as elsewhere, the ends which the human heart desires +are defeated by the poverty of human judgment and the general ignorance +concerning the relation of means to ends. Society, thus far, is a sort +of lottery, in which there are few prizes and many blanks, and each of +these blanks represents some good to which men and women are entitled, +and which they should have, and could, if they only knew how to come at +it.</p> + +<p>Thus, social intercourse is sometimes so ordered that it develops +antagonism instead of harmony, and makes one set of people the enemies +of another<a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a> set, dividing not only circles, but friendships and +families. This state of things defeats society's first object, which, in +my view, is to make people better friends. Secondly, it will happen, and +not seldom, that the frequent meeting together of a number of people, +necessarily restricted, instead of enlarging the social horizon of the +individual, will tend to narrow it more and more, so that sets and +cliques will revolve around small centres of interest, and refuse to +extend their scope.</p> + +<p>In this way, end number two, the enlargement of the individual mind is +lost sight of, and, end number three, the interchange of thought and +experience does not have room to develop itself.</p> + +<p>People say what they think others want to hear: they profess experiences +which they have never had. Here, consequently, a sad blank is drawn, +where we might well look for the greatest prize; and, end number four, +the utilization of secondary or even tertiary talents is defeated by the +application of a certain fashion varnish, which effaces all features of +individuality, and produces a wondrously dull surface, where we might +have hoped for a brilliant variety of form and color.</p> + +<p>These defects of administration being easily recognized, the great +business of social organizations ought to be to guard against them in +such wise that the short space and limited opportunity of individual<a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a> +life should have offered to it the possibility of a fair and generous +investment, instead of the uncertain lottery of which I spoke just now.</p> + +<p>One of the great needs of society in all times is that its guardians +shall take care that rules or institutions devised for some good end +shall not become so perverted in the use made of them as to bring about +the result most opposed to that which they were intended to secure. +This, I take it, is the true meaning of the saying that "the price of +liberty is eternal vigilance," no provision to secure this being sure to +avail, without the constant direction of personal care to the object.</p> + +<p>The institution of the salon might, in some periods of social history, +greatly forward the substantial and good ends of human companionship. I +can easily fancy that, in other times and under other circumstances, its +influence might be detrimental to general humanity and good fellowship. +We can, in imagination, follow the two processes which I have here in +mind. The strong action of a commanding character, or of a commanding +interest, may, in the first instance, draw together those who belong +together. Fine spirits, communicative and receptive, will obey the fine +electric force which seeks to combine them,—the great wits, and the +people who can appreciate them; the poets, and their fit hearers; +philosophers, statesmen, economists, and the men and women who will be +able<a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a> and eager to learn from the informal overflow of their wisdom and +knowledge.</p> + +<p>Here we may have a glimpse of a true republic of intelligence. What +should overthrow it? Why should it not last forever, and be handed down +from one generation to another?</p> + +<p>The salon is an insecure institution; first, because the exclusion of +new material, of new men and new ideas, may so girdle such a society +that its very perfection shall involve its death. Then, on account of +the false ideas and artificial methods which self-limiting society tends +to introduce, in time the genuine basis of association disappears from +view: the great <i>name</i> is wanted for the reputation of the salon, not +the great intelligence for its illumination. The moment that you put the +name in place of the individual, you introduce an element of insincerity +and failure.</p> + +<p>There is a sort of homage quite common in society, which amounts to such +flattery as this: "Madam, I assure you that I consider you an eminently +brilliant and successful sham. Will you tell me your secret, or shall I, +a worker in the same line, tell you mine?" Again, the contradictory +objects of our desired salon are its weakness. We wish it to exclude the +general public, but we dreadfully desire that it shall be talked about +and envied by the general public. These two opposite aims—a severe +restriction of membership, and an unlimited<a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a> extension of +reputation—are very likely to destroy the social equilibrium of any +circle, coterie, or association.</p> + +<p>Such contradictions have deep roots; even the general conduct of +neighborhood evinces them. People are often concerned lest those who +live near them should infringe upon the rights and reserves of their +household. In large cities, people sometimes boast with glee that they +have no acquaintance with the families dwelling on either side of them. +And yet, in some of those very cities, social intercourse is limited by +regions, and one street of fine houses will ignore another, which is, to +all appearances, as fine and as reputable. Under these circumstances, +some may naturally ask: "Who is my neighbor?" In the sense of the good +Samaritan, mostly no one.</p> + +<p>Dante has given us pictures of the ideal good and the ideal evil +association. The company of his demons is distracted by incessant +warfare. Weapons are hurled back and forth between them, curses and +imprecations, while the solitary souls of great sinners abide in the +torture of their own flame. As the great poet has introduced to us a +number of his acquaintance in this infernal abode, we may suppose him to +have given us his idea of much of the society of his own time. Such +appeared to him that part of the World which, with the Flesh and the +Devil, completes the trinity of evil. But, in<a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a> his Paradiso, what +glimpses does he give us of the lofty spiritual communion which then, as +now, redeemed humanity from its low discredit, its spite and malice!</p> + +<p>Resist as we may, the Christian order is prevailing, and will more and +more prevail. At the two opposite poles of popular affection and learned +persuasion, it did overcome the world, ages ago. In the intimate details +of life, in the spirit of ordinary society, it will penetrate more and +more. We may put its features out of sight and out of mind, but they are +present in the world about us, and what we may build in ignorance or +defiance of them will not stand. Modern society itself is one of the +results of this world conquest which was crowned with thorns nearly two +thousand years ago. In spite of the selfishness of all classes of men +and women, this conquest puts the great goods of life within the reach +of all.</p> + +<p>I speak of Christianity here, because, as I see it, it stands in direct +opposition to the natural desire of privileged classes and circles to +keep the best things for their own advantage and enjoyment. "What, +then!" will you say, "shall society become an agrarian mob?" By no +means. Its great domain is everywhere crossed by boundaries. All of us +have our proper limits, and should keep them, when we have once learned +them.</p> + +<p>But all of us have a share, too, in the good and<a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a> glory of human +destiny. The free course of intelligence and sympathy in our own +commonwealth establishes here a social unity which is hard to find +elsewhere. Do not let any of us go against this. Animal life itself +begins with a cell, and slowly unfolds and expands until it generates +the great electric currents which impel the world of sentient beings.</p> + +<p>The social and political life of America has passed out of the cell +state into the sweep of a wide and brilliant efficiency. Let us not try +to imprison this truly cosmopolitan life in cells, going back to the +instinctive selfhood of the barbaric state.</p> + +<p>Nature starts from cells, but develops by centres. If we want to find +the true secret of social discrimination, let us seek it in the study of +centres,—central attractions, each subordinated to the governing +harmony of the universe, but each working to keep together the social +atoms that belong together. There was a time in which the stars in our +beautiful heaven were supposed to be kept in their places by solid +mechanical contrivances, the heaven itself being an immense body that +revolved with the rest. The progress of science has taught us that the +luminous orbs which surround us are not held by mechanical bonds, but +that natural laws of attraction bind the atom to the globe, and the +globe to its orbit.</p> + +<p>Even so is it with the social atoms which compose<a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a> humanity. Each of +them has his place, his right, his beauty; and each and all are governed +by laws of belonging which are as delicate as the tracery of the frost, +and as mighty as the frost itself.</p> + +<p>The club is taking the place of the salon to-day, and not without +reason. I mean by this the study, culture, and social clubs, not those +modern fortresses in which a man rather takes refuge from society than +really seeks or finds it. I have just said that mankind are governed by +centres of natural attraction, around which their lives come to revolve. +In the course of human progress, the higher centres exercise an +ever-widening attraction, and the masses of mankind are brought more and +more under their influence.</p> + +<p>Now, the affection of fraternal sympathy and good-will is as natural to +man, though not so immediate in him, as are any of the selfish +instincts. Objects of moral and intellectual worth call forth this +sympathy in a high and ever-increasing degree, while objects in which +self is paramount call forth just the opposite, and foster in one and +all the selfish principle, which is always one of emulation, discord, +and mutual distrust. While a salon may be administered in a generous and +disinterested manner, I should fear that it would often prove an arena +in which the most selfish leadings of human nature would assert +themselves.<a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a></p> + +<p>In the club, a sort of public spirit necessarily develops itself. Each +of us would like to have his place there,—yes, and his appointed little +time of shining,—but a worthy object, such as will hold together men +and women on an intellectual basis, gradually wins for itself the place +of command in the affections of those who follow it in company. Each of +these will find that his unaided efforts are insufficient for the +furthering and illustration of a great subject which all have greatly at +heart. I have been present at a forge on which the pure gold of thought +has been hammered by thinkers into the rounded sphere of an almost +perfect harmony. One and another and another gave his hit or his touch, +and when the delightful hour was at an end, each of us carried the +golden sphere away with him.</p> + +<p>The club which I have in mind at this moment had an unfashionable name, +and was scarcely, if at all, recognized in the general society of +Boston. It was called the Radical Club,—and the really radical feature +in it was the fact that the thoughts presented at its meetings had a +root, and were, in that sense, radical. These thoughts, entertained by +individuals of very various persuasions, often brought forth strong +oppositions of opinion. Some of us used to wax warm in the defence of +our own conviction; but our wrath was not the wrath of the peacock, +enraged to see another peacock unfold its<a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a> brilliant tail, but the +concern of sincere thinkers that a subject worth discussing should not +be presented in a partial and one-sided manner, to which end, each +marked his point and said his say; and when our meeting was over, we had +all had the great instruction of looking into the minds of those to whom +truth was as dear as to ourselves, even if her aspect to them was not +exactly what it was to us.</p> + +<p>Here I have heard Wendell Phillips and Oliver Wendell Holmes; John Weiss +and James Freeman Clarke; Athanase Coquerel, the noble French Protestant +preacher; William Henry Channing, worthy nephew of his great uncle; +Colonel Higginson, Dr. Bartol, and many others. Extravagant things were +sometimes said, no doubt, and the equilibrium of ordinary persuasion was +not infrequently disturbed for a time; but the satisfaction of those +present when a sound basis of thought was vindicated and established is +indeed pleasant in remembrance.</p> + +<p>I feel tempted to introduce here one or two magic-lantern views of +certain sittings of this renowned club, of which I cherish especial +remembrance. Let me say, speaking in general terms, that, albeit the +club was more critical than devout, its criticism was rarely other than +serious and earnest. I remember that M. Coquerel's discourse there was +upon "The Protestantism of Art," and that in it he combated the +generally received idea<a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a> that the church of Rome has always stood first +in the patronage and inspiration of art. The great Dutch painters, +Holbein, Rembrandt, and their fellows, were not Roman Catholics. Michael +Angelo was protestant in spirit; so was Dante. I cannot recall with much +particularity the details of things heard so many years ago, but I +remember the presence at this meeting of Charles Sumner, George Hillard, +and Dr. Hedge. Mr. Sumner declined to take any part in the discussion +which followed M. Coquerel's discourse. Colonel Higginson, who was often +present at these meetings, maintained his view that Protestantism was +simply the decline of the Christian religion. Mr. Hillard quoted St. +James's definition of religion, pure and undefiled,—to visit the +fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted +from the world. Dr. Hedge, who was about to withdraw, paused for a +moment to say: "The word 'religion' is not rightly translated there; it +should mean"—I forgot what. The doctor's tone and manner very much +impressed a friend, who afterwards said to me: "Did he not go away 'like +one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him'?"</p> + +<p>Or it might be that John Weiss, he whom a lady writer once described as +"four parts spirit and one part flesh," gave us his paper on Prometheus, +or one on music, or propounded his theory of how the world came into +existence. Colonel Higginson<a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a> would descant upon the Greek goddesses, as +representing the feminine ideals of the Greek mythology, which he held +to be superior to the Christian ideals of womanhood,—dear Elizabeth +Peabody and I meeting him in earnest opposition. David Wasson, powerful +in verse and in prose, would speak against woman suffrage. When driven +to the wall, he confessed that he did not believe in popular suffrage at +all; and when forced to defend this position, he would instance the +wicked and ill-governed city of New York as reason enough for his views. +I remember his going away after such a discussion very abruptly, not at +all in Dr. Hedge's grand style, but rather as if he shook the dust of +our opinions from his feet; for no one of the radicals would countenance +this doctrine, and though we freely confessed the sins of New York, we +believed not a whit the less in the elective franchise, with amendments +and extensions.</p> + +<p>Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, one day, if I remember rightly, gave a very +succinct and clear statement of the early forms of Calvinistic doctrine +as held in this country, and Wendell Phillips lent his eloquent speech +to this and to other discussions.</p> + +<p>When I think of it, I believe that I had a salon once upon a time. I did +not call it so, nor even think of it as such; yet within it were +gathered people who represented many and various aspects<a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a> of life. They +were real people, not lay figures distinguished by names and clothes. +The earnest humanitarian interests of my husband brought to our home a +number of persons interested in reform, education, and progress. It was +my part to mix in with this graver element as much of social grace and +geniality as I was able to gather about me. I was never afraid to bring +together persons who rarely met elsewhere than at my house, confronting +Theodore Parker with some archpriest of the old orthodoxy, or William +Lloyd Garrison with a decade, perhaps, of Beacon Street dames. A friend +said, on one of these occasions: "Our hostess delights in contrasts." I +confess that I did; but I think that my greatest pleasure was in the +lessons of human compatibility which I learned on this wise. I started, +indeed, with the conviction that thought and character are the foremost +values in society, and was not afraid nor ashamed to offer these to my +guests, with or without the stamp of fashion and position. The result +amply justified my belief.</p> + +<p>Some periods in our own history are more favorable to such intercourse +than others. The agony and enthusiasm of the civil war, and the long +period of ferment and disturbance which preceded and followed that great +crisis,—these social agitations penetrated the very fossils of the body +politic. People were glad to meet together, glad to find<a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a> strength and +comfort among those who lived and walked by solid convictions. We cannot +go back to that time; we would not, if we could; but it was a grand time +to live and to work in.</p> + +<p>I am sorry when I see people build palaces in America. We do not need +them. Why should we bury fortune and life in the dead state of rooms +which are not lived in? Why should we double and triple for ourselves +the dangers of insufficient drainage or defective sanitation? Let us +have such houses as we need,—comfortable, well aired, well lighted, +adorned with such art as we can appreciate, enlivened by such company as +we can enjoy. Similarly, I believe that we should, individually, come +much nearer to the real purpose of a salon by restricting the number of +our guests and enlarging their variety.</p> + +<p>If we are to have a salon, do not let us think too much about its +appearance to the outside world,—how it will be reported, and extolled, +and envied. Mr. Emerson withdrew from the Boston Radical Club because +newspaper reports of its meetings were allowed. We live too much in +public to-day, and desire too much the seal of public notice.</p> + +<p>There is not room in our short human life for both shams and realities. +We can neither pursue nor possess both. I think of this now entirely +with application to the theme under consideration.<a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a> Let us not exercise +sham hospitality to sham friends. Let the heart of our household be +sincere; let our home affections expand to a wider human brotherhood and +sisterhood. Let us be willing to take trouble to gather our friends +together, and to offer them such entertainment as we can, remembering +that the best entertainment is mutual.</p> + +<p>But do not let us offend ourselves or our friends with the glare of +lights, the noise of numbers, in order that all may suffer a tedious and +joyless being together, and part as those who have contributed to each +other's <i>ennui</i>, all sincere and reasonable intercourse having been +wanting in the general encounter.</p> + +<p>We should not feel bound, either, to the literal imitation of any facts +or features of European life which may not fit well upon our own. In +many countries, the currents of human life have become so deepened and +strengthened by habit and custom as to render change very difficult, and +growth almost impossible. In our own, on the contrary, life is fresh and +fluent. Its boundaries should be elastic, capable even of indefinite +expansion.</p> + +<p>In the older countries of which I speak, political power and social +recognition are supposed to emanate from some autocratic source, and the +effort and ambition of all naturally look toward that source, and, +knowing none other, feel a personal<a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a> interest in maintaining its +ascendency, the statu quo. In our own broad land, power and light have +no such inevitable abiding-place, but may emanate from an endless +variety of points and personalities.</p> + +<p>The other mode of living may have much to recommend it for those to whom +it is native and inherited, but it is not for us. And when we apologize +for our needs and deficiencies, it should not be on the ground of our +youth and inexperience. If the settlement of our country is recent, we +have behind us all the experience of the human race, and are bound to +represent its fuller and riper manhood. Our seriousness is sometimes +complained of, usually by people whose jests and pleasantries fail to +amuse us. Let us not apologize for this, nor envy any nation its power +of trifling and of <i>persiflage</i>. We have mighty problems to solve; great +questions to answer. The fate of the world's future is concerned in what +we shall do or leave undone.</p> + +<p>We are a people of workers, and we love work—shame on him who is +ashamed of it! When we are found, on our own or other shores, idling our +life away, careless of vital issues, ignorant of true principles, then +may we apologize, then let us make haste to amend.</p> + +<p><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="Aristophanes" id="Aristophanes"></a>Aristophanes</h3> + +<p class="text nind">WHEN I learned, last season, that the attention of the school<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> this +year would be in a good degree given to the dramatists of ancient +Greece, I was seized with a desire to speak of one of these, to whom I +owe a debt of gratitude. This is the great Aristophanes, the first, and +the most illustrious, of comic writers for the stage,—first and best, +at least, of those known to Western literature.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Read before the Concord School of Philosophy.</p></div> + +<p>In the chance talk of people of culture, one hears of him all one's life +long, as exceedingly amusing. From my brothers in college, I learned the +"Frog Chorus" before I knew even a letter of the Greek alphabet. Many a +decade after this, I walked in the theatre of Bacchus at Athens, and +seeing the beauty of the marble seats, still ranged in perfect order, +and feeling the glory and dignity of the whole surrounding, I seemed to +guess that the comedies represented there were not desired to amuse idle +clowns nor to provoke vulgar laughter.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the Acropolis, with the Parthenon in sight and the +colossal statue of Minerva towering<a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a> above the glittering temples, the +poet and his audience surely had need to bethink themselves of the +wisdom which lies in laughter, of the ethics of the humorous,—a topic +well worth the consideration of students of philosophy. The ethics of +the humorous, the laughter of the gods! "He that sitteth in the heavens +shall laugh them to scorn." Did not even the gentle Christ intend satire +when, after recognizing the zeal with which an ox or an ass would be +drawn out of a pit on the sacred day, he asked: "And shall not this +woman, whom Satan hath bound, lo! these eighteen years, be loosed from +her infirmity on the sabbath day?"</p> + +<p>When a Greek tragedy is performed before us, we are amazed at its force, +its coherence, and its simplicity. What profound study and quick sense +of the heroic in nature must have characterized the man who, across the +great gulf of centuries, can so sweep our heart-strings, and draw from +them such responsive music! Our praise of these great works almost +sounds conceited. It would be more fitting for us to sit in silence and +bewail our own smallness. Comedy, too, has her grandeur; and when she +walks the stage in robe and buskins, she, too, is to receive the highest +crown, and her lessons are to be laid to heart.</p> + +<p>I will venture a word here concerning the subjective side of comedy. Is +it the very depth and<a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a> quick of our self-love which is reached by the +subtle sting which calls up a blush where no sermonizing would have that +effect? Deep satire touches the heroic within us. "Miserable sinners are +ye all," says the preacher, "vanity of vanities!" and we sit +contentedly, and say Amen. But here comes some one who sets up our +meannesses and incongruities before us so that they topple over and +tumble down. And then, strange to say, we feel in ourselves this same +power; and considering our follies in the same light, we are compelled +to deride, and also to forsake them.</p> + +<p>The miseries of war and the desirableness of peace were impressed +strongly on the mind of Aristophanes. The Peloponnesian War dragged on +from year to year with varying fortune; and though victory often crowned +the arms of the Athenians, its glory was dearly paid for by the +devastation which the Lacedmonians inflicted upon the territory of +Attica. "The Acharnians," "The Knights," and "Peace" deal with this +topic in various forms. In the first of these is introduced, as the +chief character, Dikopolis, a country gentleman who, in consequence of +the Spartan invasion, has been forced to forsake his estates, and to +take shelter in the city. He naturally desires the speedy conclusion of +hostilities, and to this end attends the assembly, determined, as he +says:<a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">To bawl, to abuse, to interrupt the speakers</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Whenever I hear a word of any kind,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Except for an immediate peace.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>This method reminds us of the obstructionists in the British Parliament. +One man speaks of himself as loathing the city and longing to return</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="right">To my poor village and my farm</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">That never used to cry: "Come buy my charcoal,"</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Nor "buy my oil," nor "buy my anything,"</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">But gave me what I wanted, freely and fairly,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Clear of all cost, with never a word of buying.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="nind">After various laughable adventures, Dikopolis finds it possible to +conclude a truce with the invaders on his own account, in which his +neighbors, the Acharnians, are not included. He returns to his farm, and +goes forth with wife and daughter to perform the sacrifice fitting for +the occasion.</p> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Silence! Move forward, the Canephora.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">You, Xanthias, follow close behind her there</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In a proper manner, with your pole and emblem.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">WIFE</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Set down the basket, daughter, and begin</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The ceremony.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DAUGHTER</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Give me the cruet, mother,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And let me pour it on the holy cake.<a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">O blessed Bacchus, what a joy it is</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">To go thus unmolested, undisturbed,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">My wife, my children, and my family,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">With our accustomed joyful ceremony,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">To celebrate thy festival in my farm.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Well, here's success to the truce of thirty years.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">WIFE</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Mind your behavior, child. Carry the basket</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In a modest, proper manner; look demure;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Mind your gold trinkets, they'll be stolen else.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="nind">Dikopolis now intones a hymn to Bacchus, but is interrupted by the +violent threats of his war-loving neighbors, the Acharnians, who break +out in injurious language, and threaten the life of the miscreant who +has made peace with the enemies of his country solely for his own +interests. With a good deal of difficulty, he persuades the enraged +crowd to allow him to argue his case before them, and this fact makes us +acquainted with another leading trait in Aristophanes; viz., his polemic +opposition to the poet Euripides. Dikopolis, wishing to make a +favorable impression upon the rustics, hies to the house of Euripides, +whose servant parleys with him in true transcendental language.</p> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Euripides within?<a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">SERVANT</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Within, and not within. You comprehend me?</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Within and not within! What do you mean?</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">SERVANT</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">His outward man</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Is in the garret writing tragedy;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">While his essential being is abroad</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Pursuing whimsies in the world of fancy.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="nind">The visitor now calls aloud upon the poet:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Euripides, Euripides, come down,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">If ever you came down in all your life!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">'Tis I, Dikopolis, from Chollid.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="nind">This Chollid probably corresponded to the Pea Ridge often quoted +in our day. Euripides declines to come down, but is presently made +visible by some device of the scene-shifter. In the dialogue that +follows, Aristophanes ridicules the personages and the costumes +brought upon the stage by Euripides, and reflects unhandsomely upon +the poet's mother, who was said to have been a vender of +vegetables. Dikopolis does not seek to borrow poetry or eloquence +from Euripides, but prays him to lend him "a suit of tatters from a +worn-out tragedy."</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">For mercy's sake, for I'm obliged to make</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A speech in my own defence before the chorus,<a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A long pathetic speech, this very day,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And if it fails, the doom of death betides me.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Euripides now asks what especial costume would suit the need of +Dikopolis, and calls over the most pitiful names in his tragedies: +"Do you want the dress of Oineos?"—"Oh, no! something much more +wretched."—"Phœnix? "—"No; much worse than +Phœnix."—"Philocletes?"—"No."—"Lame Bellerophon?" Dikopolis +says:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">'Twas not Bellerophon, but very like him,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A kind of smooth, fine-spoken character;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A beggar into the bargain, and a cripple</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">With a grand command of words, bothering and begging.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="nind">Euripides by this description recognizes the personage intended, +<i>viz.</i>, Telephus, the physician, and orders his servant to go and +fetch the ragged suit, which he will find "next to the tatters of +Thyestes, just over Ino's." Dikopolis exclaims, on seeing the mass +of holes and patches, but asks, further, a little Mysian bonnet for +his head, a beggar's staff, a dirty little basket, a broken pipkin; +all of which Euripides grants, to be rid of him. All this insolence +the visitor sums up in the following lines:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">I wish I may be hanged, my dear Euripides,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">If ever I trouble you for anything,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Except one little, little, little boon,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A single lettuce from your mother's stall.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>This is more than Euripides can bear, and the gates are now shut upon +the intruder.</p> + +<p>Later in the play, Dikopolis appears in company with the General +Lamachus. A sudden call summons this last to muster his men and march +forth to repel a party of marauders. Almost at the same moment, +Dikopolis is summoned to attend the feast of Bacchus, and to bring his +best cookery with him. In the dialogue that follows, the valiant soldier +and the valiant trencherman appear in humorous contrast.</p> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">LAMACHUS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Boy, boy, bring out here my haversack.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Boy, boy, hither bring my dinner service.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">LAMACHUS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Bring salt flavored with thyme, boy, and onions.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Bring me a cutlet. Onions make me ill.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">LAMACHUS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Bring hither pickled fish, stale.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">And to me a fat pudding. I will cook it yonder.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">LAMACHUS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Bring me my plumes and my helmet.<a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Bring me doves and thrushes.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">LAMACHUS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Fair and white is the plume of the ostrich.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Fair and yellow is the flesh of the dove.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">LAMACHUS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">O man! leave off laughing at my weapons.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">O man! don't you look at my thrushes.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">LAMACHUS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Bring the case that holds my plumes.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">And bring me a dish of hare.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">LAMACHUS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">But the moths have eaten my crest.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Dikopolis makes some insolent rejoinder, at which the general takes +fire. He calls for his lance; Dikopolis, for the spit, which he frees +from the roast meat. Lamachus raises his Gorgon-orbed shield; Dikopolis +lifts a full-orbed pancake. Lamachus then performs a mock act of +divination:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Pour oil upon the shield. What do I trace</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In the divining mirror? 'Tis the face</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Of an old coward, fortified with fear,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">That sees his trial for desertion near.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">DIKOPOLIS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Pour honey on the pancake. What appears?</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A comely personage, advanced in years,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Firmly resolved to laugh at and defy</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Both Lamachus and the Gorgon family.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>In "The Frogs," god and demigod, Bacchus and Hercules, are put upon the +stage with audacious humor. The first has borrowed the costume of the +second, in which unfitting garb he knocks at Hercules' door on his way +to Hades, his errand being to find and bring back Euripides. The dearth +of clever poets is the reason alleged for this undertaking. Hercules +suggests to him various poets who are still on earth. Bacchus condemns +them as "warblers of the grove; poor, puny wretches!" He now asks +Hercules for introductions to his friends in the lower regions, and for</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Any communication about the country,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The roads, the streets, the bridges, public houses</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And lodgings, free from bugs and fleas, if possible.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Hercules mentions various ways of arriving at the infernal regions: "The +hanging road,—rope and noose?"—"That's too stifling."—"The pestle and +mortar, then,—the beaten road?"—"No; that gives one cold feet."—"Go, +then, to<a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a> the tower of the Keramicus, and throw yourself headlong." No; +Bacchus does not wish to have his brains dashed out. He would go by the +road which Hercules took. Of this, Hercules gives an alarming account, +beginning with the bottomless lake and the boat of Charon. Bacchus +determines to set forth, but is detained by the recalcitrance of his +servant, Xanthias, who refuses to carry his bundle any further.</p> + +<p>A funeral now comes across the stage. Bacchus asks the dead man if he is +willing to carry some bundles to Hell for him. The dead man demands two +drachmas for the service. Bacchus offers him ninepence, which he angrily +refuses, and is carried out of sight. Charon presently appears, and +makes known, like a good ferryman, the points at which he will deliver +passengers.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 6em;">Who wants the ferryman?</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Anybody waiting to remove from the sorrows of life?</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A passage to Lethe's wharf? to Cerberus' Beach?</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">To Tartarus? to Tenaros? to Perdition?</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Just so, in my youth, sailing on the Hudson, one heard all night the +sound of Peekskill landing! Fishkill landing! Rhinebeck landing!—with +darkness and swish of steam quite infernal enough.</p> + +<p>Charon takes Bacchus on board, but compels him to do his part of the +rowing, promising him: "As<a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a> soon as you begin you shall have music that +will teach you to keep time."</p> + +<p>This music is the famous "Chorus of the Frogs," beginning, "Brokekekesh, +koash, koash," and running through many lines, with this occasional +refrain, of which Bacchus soon tires, as he does of the oar. His servant +Xanthias is obliged to make the journey by land and on foot, Charon +bidding him wait for his master at the Stone of Repentance, by the +Slough of Despond, beyond the Tribulations. After encountering the +Empousa, a nursery hobgoblin, they meet the spirits of the initiated, +singing hymns to Bacchus—whom they invoke as Jacchus—and to Ceres. +This part of the play, intended, Frere says, to ridicule the Eleusinian +mysteries, is curiously human in its incongruity,—a jumble of the +beautiful and the trivial. I must quote from it the closing strophe:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Let us hasten, let us fly</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Where the lovely meadows lie,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Where the living waters flow,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Where the roses bloom and blow.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Heirs of immortality,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Segregated safe and pure,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Easy, sorrowless, secure,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Since our earthly course is run,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">We behold a brighter sun.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Such sweet words we to-day could expect to hear from the lips of our own +dear ones, gone before.<a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a></p> + +<p>Very incongruous is certainly this picture of Bacchus, in a cowardly and +ribald state of mind, listening to the hymn which celebrates his divine +aspect. Jacchus, whom the spirits invoke, is the glorified Bacchus, the +highest ideal of what was vital religion in those days. But the god +himself is not professionally, only personally, present, and, wearing +the disguise of Hercules, in no way notices or responds to the strophes +which invoke him. He asks the band indeed to direct him to Pluto's +house, which turns out to be near at hand.</p> + +<p>Before its door, Bacchus is seized with such a fit of timidity that, +instead of knocking, he asks his servant to tell him how the native +inhabitants of the region knock at doors. Reproved by the servant, he +knocks, and announces himself as the valiant Hercules. acus, the +porter, now rushes out upon him with violent abuse, reviling him for +having stolen, or attempted to steal, the watch-dog, Cerberus, and +threatening him with every horror which Hell can inflict. acus departs, +and Bacchus persuades his servant to don the borrowed garb of Hercules, +while he loads himself with the baggage which the other was carrying. +Proserpine, however, sends her maid to invite the supposed Hercules to a +feast of dainties. Xanthias now assumes the manners befitting the hero, +at which Bacchus orders him to change dresses with him once more, and +assume his own costume, which he does. Hardly have they done<a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a> this, when +Bacchus is again set upon by two frantic women, who shriek in his ears +the deeds of gluttony committed by Hercules in Hades, and not paid for.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="right">There; that's he</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">That came to our house, ate those nineteen loaves.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Aye; sure enough. That's he, the very man;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And a dozen and a half of cutlets and fried chops,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">At a penny ha' penny apiece. And all the garlic,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And the good green cheese that he gorged at once.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And then, when I called for payment, he looked fierce</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And stared me in the face, and grinned and roared.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>The women threaten the false Hercules with the pains and penalties of +swindling. He now pretends to soliloquize: "I love poor Xanthias dearly; +that I do."</p> + +<p>"Yes," says Xanthias, "I know why; but it's of no use. I won't act +Hercules." Xanthias, however, allows himself to be persuaded, and when +acus, appearing with a force, cries: "Arrest me there that fellow that +stole the dog," Xanthias contrives to make an effectual resistance. +Having thus gained time, he assures acus that he never stole so much as +a hair of his dog's tail; but gives him leave to put Bacchus, his +supposed slave, to the torture, in order to elicit from him the truth. +acus, softened by this proposal, asks in which way the master would +prefer to have his slave tortured. Xanthias replies:<a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">In your own way, with the lash, with knots and screws,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">With the common, usual, customary tortures,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">With the rack, with the water torture, any sort of way,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">With fire and vinegar—all sorts of ways.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Bacchus, thus driven to the wall, proclaims his divinity, and claims +Xanthias as his slave. The latter suggests that if Bacchus is a +divinity, he may be beaten without injury, as he will not feel it. +Bacchus retorts, "If you are Hercules, so may you." acus, to ascertain +the truth, impartially belabors them both. Each, in turn, cries out, and +pretends to have quoted from the poets. acus, unable to decide which is +the god and which the impostor, brings them both before Proserpine and +Pluto.</p> + +<p>In the course of a delicious dialogue between the two servants, acus +and Xanthias, it is mentioned that Euripides, on coming to the shades, +had driven schylus from the seat of honor at Pluto's board, holding +himself to be the worthier poet. schylus has objected to this, and the +matter is now to be settled by a trial of skill in which Bacchus is to +be the umpire.</p> + +<p>The shades of Euripides and schylus appear in the next scene, with +Bacchus between them. schylus wishes the trial had taken place +elsewhere. Why? Because while his tragedies live on earth, those of +Euripides are dead, and have descended with him to bear him company in +Hell.<a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a> The encounter of wits between the two is of the grandiose comic, +each taunting the other with his faults of composition. Euripides says +of schylus:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">He never used a simple word</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">But bulwarks and scamanders and hippogriffs and Gorgons,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Bloody, remorseless phrases.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>schylus rejoins:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Well, then, thou paltry wretch, explain</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">What were your own devices?</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Euripides says that he found the Muse</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="right">Puffed and pampered</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">With pompous sentences, a cumbrous huge virago.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>In order to bring her to a more genteel figure:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">I fed her with plain household phrase and cool familiar salad,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">With water gruel episode, with sentimental jelly,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">With moral mince-meat, till at length I brought her into compass.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">I kept my plots distinct and clear to prevent confusion.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">My leading characters rehearsed their pedigrees for prologues.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>"For all this," says schylus, "you ought to have been hanged." schylus +now speaks of the grand old days, of the great themes and works of early +poetry:<a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Such is the duty, the task of a poet,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Fulfilling in honor his duty and trust.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Look to traditional history, look;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">See what a blessing illustrious poets</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Conferred on mankind in the centuries past.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Orpheus instructed mankind in religion,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Reclaimed them from bloodshed and barbarous rites.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Musus delivered the doctrine of medicine,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And warnings prophetic for ages to come.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Next came old Hesiod, teaching us husbandry,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rural economy, rural astronomy,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Homely morality, labor and thrift.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Homer himself, our adorable Homer,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">What was his title to praise and renown?</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">What but the worth of the lessons he taught us,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Discipline, arms, and equipment of war.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>And here the poet comes to speak of a question which is surely prominent +to-day in the minds of thoughtful people. schylus, in his argument +against Euripides, speaks of the noble examples which he himself has +brought upon the stage, reproaches his adversary with the objectionable +stories of Sthenobus and Phdra, with which he, Euripides has corrupted +the public taste.</p> + +<p>Euripides alleges in his own defence that he did not invent those +stories. "Phdra's affair was a matter of fact." schylus rejoins:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">A fact with a vengeance, but horrible facts</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Should be buried in silence, not bruited abroad,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Nor brought forth on the stage, nor emblazoned in poetry.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Children and boys have a teacher assigned them;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The bard is a master for manhood and youth,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Bound to instruct them in virtue and truth</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Beholden and bound.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>I do not know which of the plays of Aristophanes is considered the best +by those who are competent to speak authoritatively upon their merits; +but of those that I know, this drama of "The Frogs" seems to me to +exhibit most fully the scope and extent of his comic power. +Condescending in parts to what is called low comedy,—<i>i.e.</i>, the +farcical, based upon the sense of what all know and experience,—it +rises elsewhere to the highest domain of literary criticism and +expression.</p> + +<p>The action between Bacchus and his slave forcibly reminds us of +Cervantes, though master and man alike have in them more of Sancho Panza +than of Quixote. In the journey to the palace of Pluto, I see the +prototype of what the great medival poet called "The Divine Comedy." I +find in both the same weird imagination, the same curious interbraiding +of the ridiculous and the grandiose. This, of course, with the +difference that the Greek poet affords us only a brief view of Hell, +while Dante detains us long enough to give us a realizing sense of what +it is, or might be. This same mingling of the awful and the grotesque +suggests to me passages in our own Hawthorne, similarly at home with +the<a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a> supernatural, which underlies the story of "The Scarlet Letter," +and flashes out in "The Celestial Railroad." But I must come back to +Dante, who can amuse us with the tricks of demons, and can lift us to +the music of the spheres. So Aristophanes can show us, on the one hand, +the humorous relations of a coward and a clown; and, on the other, can +put into the mouth of the great schylus such words as he might fitly +have spoken.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the very extravagance of fun is carried even further in the +drama of "The Birds" than in those already quoted from. Its conceits +are, at any rate, most original, and, so far as I know, it is without +prototype or parallel in its matter and manner.</p> + +<p>The argument of the play can be briefly stated. Peisthetairus, an +Athenian citizen, dissatisfied with the state of things in his own +country, visits the Hoopœ with the intention of securing his +assistance in founding a new state, the dominion of the birds. He takes +with him a good-natured simpleton of a friend, Well-hoping, by name. Now +the Hoopœ in question, according to the old legend, had been known in +a previous state of being as Tereus, King of Thrace, and the +metamorphosis which changed him to a bird had changed his subjects also +into representatives of the various feathered tribes. These, however, +far from sharing the polite and hospitable character of their master, +become enraged<a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a> at the intrusion of the strangers, and propose to attack +them in military style. The visitors seize a spit, the lid of a pot, and +various other culinary articles, and prepare to make what defence they +may, while the birds "present beaks," and prepare to charge. The +Hoopœ here interposes, and claims their attention for the project +which Peisthetairus has to unfold.</p> + +<p>The wily Athenian begins his address with prodigious flattery, calling +the feathered folk "a people of sovereigns," more ancient of origin than +man, his deities, or his world. In support of this last clause, he +quotes a fable of sop, who narrates that the lark was embarrassed to +bury his father, because the earth did not exist at the time of his +death. Sovereignty, of old, belonged to the birds. The stride of the +cock sufficiently shows his royal origin, and his authority is still +made evident by the alacrity with which the whole slumbering world +responds to his morning reveille. The kite once reigned in Greece; the +cuckoo in Sidon and Egypt. Jupiter has usurped the eagle's command, but +dares not appear without him, while</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Each of the gods had his separate fowl,—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Apollo the hawk and Minerva the owl.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Peisthetairus proposes that, in order to recover their lost sovereignty, +the birds shall build in the air a strongly fortified city. This done, +they shall<a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a> send a herald to Jove to demand his immediate abdication. If +the celestials refuse to govern themselves accordingly, they are to be +blockaded. This blockade seems presently to obtain, and heavenly Iris, +flying across the sky on a message from the gods, is caught, arraigned, +and declared worthy of death,—the penalty of non-observance. The +prospective city receives the name of "Nephelococcagia," and this is +scarcely decided upon before a poet arrives to celebrate in an ode the +mighty Nephelococcagia state.</p> + +<p>Then comes a soothsayer to order the appropriate sacrifices; then an +astronomer, with instruments to measure the due proportions of the city; +then a would-be parricide, who announces himself as a lover of the bird +empire, and especially of that law which allows a man to beat his +father. Peisthetairus confesses that, in the bird domain, the chicken is +sometimes applauded for clapper-clawing the old cock. When, however, his +visitor expresses a wish to throttle his parent and seize upon his +estate, Peisthetairus refers him to the law of the storks, by which the +son is under obligation to feed and maintain the parent. This law, he +says, prevails in Nephelococcagia, and the parricide accordingly betakes +himself elsewhere.</p> + +<p>All this admirable fooling ends in the complete success of the birds. +Jupiter sends an embassy to treat for peace, and by a curious juggle, +imitating,<a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a> no doubt, the political processes of those days, +Peisthetairus becomes recognized as the lawful sovereign of +Nephelococcagia, and receives, on his demand, the hand of Jupiter's +favorite queen in marriage.</p> + +<p>I have given my time too fully to the Greek poet to be able to make any +extended comparison between his works and those of the Elizabethan +dramatists. But from the plays which trifle so with the grim facts of +nature, I can fly to the "Midsummer Night's Dream," and alight for a +moment on one of its golden branches. Shakespeare's Athenian clowns are +rather Aristophanic in color. The play of "Pyramus and Thisbe" might +have formed one interlude on that very stage which had in sight the +glories of the Parthenon. The exquisite poetry which redeems their +nonsense has its parallel in the lovely "Chorus of the Clouds," the ode +to Peace, and other glimpses of the serious Aristophanes, which here and +there look out from behind the mask of the comedian.</p> + +<p>I am very doubtful whether good Greek scholars will think my selections +given here at all the best that could be made. I will remind them of an +Eastern tale in which a party of travellers were led, in the dark, +through an enchanted region in which showers of some unknown substance +fell around them, while a voice cried: "They that do not gather any will +grieve, and they who do gather<a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a> will grieve that they did not gather +more, for these that fall are diamonds." So, of these bright diamonds of +matchless Greek wit, I have tried to gather some, but may well say I +grieve that I have not gathered more, and more wisely.</p> + +<p>These works are to us exquisite pieces of humoristic extravagance, but +to the people of the time they were far more than this; <i>viz.</i>, the +lesson of ridicule for what was tasteless and ridiculous in Athenian +society, and the punishment of scathing satire for what was unworthy. +Annotators tell us that the plays are full of allusions to prominent +characters of the day. Some of these, as is well known, the poet sets +upon the stage in masquerades which reveal, more than they conceal, +their true personality. For the demagogue Cleon, and for the playwright +Euripides, he has no mercy.</p> + +<p>The patient student of Aristophanes and his commentators will acquire a +very competent knowledge of the politics of the wise little city at the +time of which he treats, also of its literary personages, pedants or +sophists. The works give us, I think, a very favorable impression of the +public to whose apprehension they were presented,—a quick-witted +people, surely, able to follow the sudden turns and doublings of the +poet's fancy; not to be surprised into stupidity by any ambush sprung +upon them out of obscurity.</p> + +<p>Compare with this the difficulty of commending<a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a> anything worth thinking +of to the attention of a modern theatre audience. It is true that much +of this Greek wit must needs have been <i>caviare</i> to the multitude, but +its seasoning, no doubt, penetrated the body politic. I remember, a +score or more of years ago, that a friend said that it was good and +useful to have some public characters Beecherized, alluding to the broad +and bold presentment of them given from time to time by our great +clerical humorist, Henry Ward Beecher. Very efficacious, one thinks, +must have been this scourge which the Greek comic muse wielded so +merrily, but so unmercifully.</p> + +<p>Although Aristophanes is very severe upon individuals, he does not, I +think, foster any class enmities, except, perhaps, against the sophists. +Although a city man, he treats the rustic population with great +tenderness, and the glimpses he gives us of country life are sweet and +genial. In this, he contrasts with the French playwrights of our time, +to whom city life is everything, and the province synonymous with all +that is dull and empty of interest.</p> + +<p>How can I dismiss the comedy of that day without one word concerning its +immortal tragedy,—Socrates, the divine man, compared and comparable to +Christ, chained in his dungeon and condemned to die? The most blameless +life could not save that sacred head. Its illumination, in<a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a> which we sit +here to-day, drew to it the shafts of superstition, malice, and +wickedness. The comic poet might present on the stage such pictures of +the popular deities as would make the welkin ring with the roar of +laughter. This was not impiety. But Socrates, showing no disrespect to +these idols of the current persuasion, only daring to discern beyond +them God in his divineness, truth in her awful beauty,—<i>he</i> must die +the death of the profane.</p> + +<p>It is a bitter story, surely, but "it must needs be that offences come." +Where should we be to-day if no one in human history had loved high +doctrine well enough to die for it? At such cost were these great +lessons given us. How can we thank God or man enough for them?</p> + +<p>The athletics of human thought are the true Olympian games. Human error +is wise and logical in its way. It confronts its antagonist with +terrific weapons; it seizes and sways him with a Titanic will force. It +knows where to attack, and how. It knows the spirit that would be death +to it, could that spirit prevail. It closes in the death grapple; the +arena is red with the blood of its victim, but from that blood immortal +springs a new world, a new society.</p> + +<p>One word, in conclusion, about the Greek language. Valuable as +translations are, they can never, to the student, take the place of +originals. I have<a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a> stumbled through these works with the lamest +knowledge of Greek, and with no one to help me. I have quoted from +admirable renderings of them into English. Yet, even in such delicate +handling as that of Frere, the racy quality of the Greek phrase +evaporates, like some subtle perfume; while the music of the grand +rhythm, which the ear seems able to get through the eye, is lost.</p> + +<p>The Greek tongue belongs to the history of thought. The language that +gives us such distinctions as <i>nous</i> and <i>logos</i>, as <i>gy</i> and <i>kosmos</i>, +has been the great pedagogue of our race, has laid the foundations of +modern thought. Let us, by all means, help ourselves with Frere, with +Jowett, and a multitude of other literary benefactors. But let us all +get a little Greek on our own account, for the sake of our Socrates and +of our Christ. And as the great but intolerant Agassiz had it for his +motto that "species do not transmute," let this school have among its +mottoes this one: "True learning does not de-Hellenize."<a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="The_Halfness_of_Nature" id="The_Halfness_of_Nature"></a>The Halfness of Nature</h3> + +<p><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a></p> + +<p class="text nind">THE great office of ethics and sthetics is the reconciliation of God +and man; that is, of the divine and disinterested part of human nature +with its selfish and animal opposite.</p> + +<p>This opposition exists, primarily, in the individual; secondarily, in +the society formed out of individuals. Human institutions typify the +two, with their mutual influence and contradictions. The church +represents the one; the market, the other. The battle-field and the +hospital, the school and the forum, are further terms of the same +antithesis. Nature does so much for the man, and the material she +furnishes is so indispensable to all the constructions which we found +upon it, that the last thing a teacher can afford to do is to undervalue +her gifts. When critical agencies go so far as to do this, revolution is +imminent: Nature reasserts herself.</p> + +<p>Equally impotent is Nature where institutions do not supply the help of +Art. When this state of things perseveres, she dwindles instead of +growing. She becomes meagre, not grandiose. Men hunt, but do not +cultivate. Women drudge and bear offspring, but neither comfort nor +inspire.<a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a></p> + +<p>Let us examine a little into what Nature gives, and into what she does +not give. In the domain of thought and religion, people dispute much on +this head, and are mostly ranged in two parties, of which one claims for +her everything, while the other allows her nothing.</p> + +<p>In this controversy, we can begin with one point beyond dispute. Nature +gives the man, but she certainly does not give the clothes. Having +received his own body, he has to go far and work hard in order to cover +it.</p> + +<p>Nature again scarcely gives human food. Roots, berries, wild fruit, and +raw flesh would not make a very luxurious diet for the king of creation. +Even this last staple Nature does not supply gratis, and the art of +killing is man's earliest discovery in the lesson of self-sustenance. So +Death becomes the succursal of life. The sense of this originates, +first, the art of hunting; secondly, the art of war.</p> + +<p>Nature gives the religious impulse, originating in the further pole of +primal thought. The alternation of night and day may first suggest the +opposition of things seen and not seen. The world exists while the man +sleeps—exists independently of him. Sleep and its dreams are mysterious +to the waking man. His first theology is borrowed from this conjunction +of invisible might and irrational intellection.</p> + +<p>But Nature does not afford the church. Art<a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a> does this, laboring long and +finishing never,—coming to a platform of rest, but coming at the same +time to a higher view, inciting to higher effort. Temple after temple is +raised. Juggernaut, Jove, Jesus! India does not get beyond Juggernaut. +Rome could not get beyond Jove. Christendom is far behind Jesus. In all +religions, Art founds on Nature, and aspires to super-nature. In all, +Art asserts the superiority of thought over unthought, of measure over +excess, of conscience over confidence. The latest evangel alone supplies +a method of popularizing thought, of beautifying measure, of harmonizing +conscience, and is, therefore, the religion that uses most largely from +the race, and returns most largely to it.</p> + +<p>Time permits me only a partial review of this great system of gifts and +deficiencies. The secret of progress seems an infinitesimal seed, +dropped in some bosoms to bear harvest for all. Seed and soil together +give the product which is called genius. But genius is only half of the +great man. No one works so hard as he does to obtain the result +corresponding to his natural dimensions and obligations. The gift and +the capacity to employ it are simply boons of Nature. The resolution to +do so, the patience and perseverance, the long tasks bravely undertaken +and painfully carried through—these come of the individual action of +the moral man, and constitute his moral life. The wonderfully<a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a> clever +people we all know, who fill the society toy-shop with what is needed in +the society workshop, are people who have not consummated this +resolution, who have not had this bravery, this perseverance. Death does +not waste more of immature life than Indolence wastes of immature +genius. The law of labor in ethics and sthetics corresponds to the +energetic necessities of hygiene, and is the most precious and +indispensable gift of one generation to its successors.</p> + +<p>In ethics, Nature supplies the first half, but Religion, or the law of +duty, supplies the other. Nature gives the enthusiasm of love, but not +the tender and persevering culture of friendship, which carries the +light of that tropical summer into the winter of age, the icy recesses +of death.</p> + +<p>Art has no need to intervene in order to bring together those whom +passion inspires, whom inclination couples. But in crude Nature, passion +itself remains selfish, brutal, and short-lived.</p> + +<p>The tender and grateful recollection of transient raptures, the culture +and growth of generous sympathies, resulting in noble co-operation—Art +brings these out of Nature by the second birth, of which Christ knew, +and at which Nicodemus marvelled.</p> + +<p>Nature gives the love of offspring. Human parents share the passionate +attachment of other animals for their young. With the regulation of<a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a> +this attachment Art has much to do. You love the child when it delights +you by day; you must also love it when it torments you at night. This +latter love is not against Nature, but Conscience has to apply the whip +and spur a little, or the mother will take such amusement as the child +can afford, and depute to others the fatigues which are its price.</p> + +<p>A graver omission yet Nature makes. She does not teach children to +reverence and cherish their parents when the relation between them +reverses itself in the progress of time, and those who once had all to +give have all to ask. Moses was not obliged to say: "Parents, love your +children." But he was obliged to say: "Honor thy father and thy mother," +in all the thunder of the Decalogue. The gentler and finer spirits value +the old for their useful council and inestimable experience.</p> + +<p>You know to-day; but your father can show you yesterday, bright with +living traditions which history neglects and which posterity loses. We +do not profit as we might by this source of knowledge. Elders question +the young for their instruction. Young people, in turn, should question +elders on their own account, not allowing the personal values of +experience to go down to the grave unrealized. But Youth is cruel and +remorseless. The young, in their fulness of energy, in their desire for +scope and freedom, are often in unseemly haste to see the old depart.<a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a></p> + +<p>Here Religion comes in with strong hands to moderate the tyrannous +impulse, the controversy of the green with the ripe fruit. All religions +agree in this intervention. The worship of ancestors in the Confucian +ethics shows this consciousness and intention. The aristocratic +traditions of rank and race are an invention to the same end. Vanity, +too, will often lead a man to glorify himself in the past and future, as +well as in the present.</p> + +<p>Still, the instinct to get rid of elders is a feature in unreclaimed +nature. It shows the point at which the imperative suggestions of +personal feeling stop,—the spot where Nature leaves a desert in order +that Art may plant a garden. "Why don't you give me a carriage, now?" +said an elderly wife to an elderly husband. "When we married, you would +scarcely let me touch the ground with my feet. I need a conveyance now +far more than I did then." "That was the period of my young enthusiasm," +replied the husband. The statement is one of unusual candor, but the +fact is one of not unusual occurrence.</p> + +<p>I think that in the present study I have come upon the true and simple +sense of the parable of the talents. Of every human good, the initial +half is bestowed by Nature. But the value of this half is not realized +until Labor shall have acquired the other half. Talents are one thing: +the use of them<a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a> is another. The first depend on natural conditions; the +second, on moral processes. The greatest native facilities are useless +to mankind without the discipline of Art. So in an undisciplined life, +the good that is born with a man dwindles and decays. The sketch of +childhood, never filled out, fades in the objectless vacancy of manhood; +and from the man is "taken away even that which he seemeth to have." Not +judicial vengeance this, but inevitable consequence.</p> + +<p>Education should clearly formulate this problem: Given half of a man or +woman, to make a whole one. This, I need not say, is to be done by +development, not by addition. Kant says that knowledge grows <i>per intus +susceptionem</i>, and not <i>per appositionem</i>. The knowledges that you +adjoin to memory do not fill out the man unless you reach, in his own +mind, the faculty that generates thought. A single reason perceived by +him either in numbers or in speech will outweigh in importance all the +rules which memory can be taught to supply. With little skill and much +perseverance, Education hammers upon the man until somewhere she strikes +a nerve, and the awakened interest leads him to think out something for +himself. Otherwise, she leaves the man a polite muddle, who makes his +best haste to forget facts in forms, and who cancels the enforced +production of his years of pedagogy by a lifelong non-production.<a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a></p> + +<p>What Nature is able to give, she does give with a wealth and persistence +almost pathetic. The good gifts afloat in the world which never take +form under the appropriate influence, the good material which does not +build itself into the structures of society,—you and I grieve over +these sometimes. And here I come upon a doctrine which Fourier, I think, +does not state correctly. He maintains that inclinations which appear +vicious and destructive in society as at present constituted would +become highly useful in his ideal society. I should prefer to state the +matter thus: The given talent, not receiving its appropriate education, +becomes a negative instead of a positive, an evil instead of a good. +Here we might paraphrase the Scripture saying, and affirm that the stone +which is not built into the corner becomes a stumbling-block for the +wayfarer to fall over. So great mischief lies in those uneducated, +unconsecrated talents! This cordial companion becomes a sot. This +could-be knight remains a prize-fighter. This incipient mathematician +does not get beyond cards or billiards. This clever mechanic picks locks +and robs a bank, instead of endowing one.</p> + +<p>Modern theories of education do certainly point toward the study, by the +party educating, of the party appointed to undergo education. But this +education of others is a very complex matter, not to be accomplished +unless the educator educates<a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a> himself in the light afforded him by his +pupils. The boys or girls committed to you may study what you will: be +sure, first of all, that you study them to your best ability. Education +in this respect is forced to a continual rectification of her processes. +The greatest power and resource are needed to awaken and direct the +energies of the young. No speech in Congress is so important as are the +lessons in the primary school; no pulpit has so great a field of labor +as the Sunday school. The Turkish government showed a cruel wisdom of +instinct when it levied upon Greece the tribute of Christian children to +form its corps of Janissaries. It recognized alike the Greek superiority +of race, and the invaluable opportunity of training afforded by +childhood.</p> + +<p>The work, then, of education demands an investigation of the elements +which Nature has granted to the individual, with the view of matching +that in which he is wanting with that which he has. I have heard of +lovers who, in plighting their faith, broke a coin in halves, whose +matching could only take place with their meeting. In true education as +in the love, these halves should correspond.</p> + +<p>"What hast thou?" is, then, the first question of the educator. His +second is, "What hast thou not?" The third is, "How can I help thee to +this last?"</p> + +<p>To my view, the man remains incomplete his<a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a> whole life long. Most +incomplete is he, however, in the isolations of selfishness and of +solitude. Study is not necessarily solitude, but ideal society in the +highest grade in which human beings can enjoy it. It is, nevertheless, +dangerous to suffer the ideal to distance the real too largely. +Desk-dreamers end by being mental cripples. Divorce of this sort is not +wholesome, nor holy. Life is a perpetual marriage of real and ideal, of +endeavor and result. The solitary departure of physical death is +hateful, as putting asunder what God has joined together.</p> + +<p>Must I go hence as lonely as I was born? My mother brought me into the +infinite society: I go into the absolute dissociation. I go many steps +further back than I came,—to the <i>ur</i> mother, the common matrix which +bears plants, animals, and human creatures. Where, oh where, shall I +find that infinite companionship which my life should have earned for +me? My friendship has been hundred-handed. My love has consumed the +cities of the plain, and built the heavenly Jerusalem. And I go, without +lover or friend, in a box, into an earth vault, from which I cannot even +turn into violets and primroses in any recognizable and conscious way.</p> + +<p>The completeness of our severance or deficiency may be, after all, the +determining circumstance of our achievement. What I would have is cut so +clean off from what I have as to leave no sense of<a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a> wholeness in my +continuing as I am. Something of mine is mislaid or lost. It is more +mine than anything that I have, but where to find it? Who has it? I +reach for it under this bundle and under that. After my life's trial, I +find that I have pursued, but not possessed it. What I have gained of it +in the pursuit, others must realize. I bequeath, and cannot take it with +me. Did Dante regard the parchments of his "Divina Commedia" with a +sigh, foreseeing the long future of commentators and booksellers, he +himself absolving them beforehand by the quitclaim of death? You and I +may also grieve to part from certain unsold volumes, from certain +manuscripts of doubtful fate and eventuality. Oh! out of this pang of +death has come the scheme and achievement of immortality. "<i>Non omnis +moriar</i>." "I am the resurrection and the life." "It is sown a natural +body; it is raised a spiritual body."</p> + +<p>This tremendous leap and feat of the human soul across the bridge of +dark negativity would never have been made without the sharp spur and +bitter pang of death. "My life food for worms? No; never. I will build +and bestow it in arts and charities, spin it in roads and replicate it +in systems; but to be lopped from the great body of humanity, and decay +like a black, amputated limb? My manhood refuses. The infinite hope +within me generates another life, realizable in every moment of my<a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a> +natural existence, whose moments are not in time, whose perfect joys are +not measured by variable duration. Thus every day can be to me full of +immortality, and the matter of my corporeal decease full of +indifference, as sure to be unconscious."</p> + +<p>I think this attainment the first, fundamental to all the others. We +console the child with a simple word about heaven. He is satisfied, and +feels its truth. How to attain this deathlessness is the next problem +whose solution he will ask of us. We point him to the plane on which he +will roll; for our life is a series of revolutions,—no straight-forward +sledding, but an acceleration by ideal weight and propulsion, through +which our line becomes a circle, and our circle itself a living wheel of +action, creating out of its mobile necessity a past and a future.</p> + +<p>The halfness of the individual is literally shown in the division of +sex. The Platonic fancy runs into an anterior process, by which what was +originally one has been made two. We will say that the two halves were +never historically, though always ideally, one. Here Art comes to the +assistance of Nature. The mere contrast of sex does not lift society out +of what is animal and slavish. The integrity of sex relation is not to +be found in a succession or simultaneity of mates, easily taken and as +easily discarded. This great value of a perfected life is to be had only +through an abiding<a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a> and complete investment,—the relations of sex +lifted up to the communion of the divine, unified by the good faith of a +lifetime, enriched by a true sharing of all experience. This august +partnership is Marriage, one of the most difficult and delicate +achievements of society. Too sadly does its mockery afflict us in these +and other days. Either party, striving to dwarf the other, dwarfs +itself. This mystic selfhood, inexpressible in literal phrases, is at +once the supreme of Nature and the sublime of institutions. The ideal +human being is man and woman united on the ideal plane. The church long +presented and represented this plane. The state is hereafter to second +and carry out its suggestions. The ideal assembly, which we figure by +the communion of the saints, is a coming together of men and women in +the highest aims and views to which Humanity can be a party.</p> + +<p>Passing from immediate to projected consciousness, I can imagine +expression itself to spring from want. The sense of the incompleteness +of life in itself and in each of its acts calls for this effort to show, +at least, what life should be,—to vindicate the shortcoming of action +out of the fulness of speech. This that eats and sleeps is so little of +the man! These processes are so little what he understands by life! +Listen; let him tell you what life means to him.</p> + +<p>And so sound is differentiated into speech, and<a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a> hammered into grammar, +and built up into literature—all of whose creations are acoustic +palaces of imagination. For the eye in reading is only the secondary +sense: the written images the spoken word.</p> + +<p>How the rhythm of the blood comes to be embodied in verse is more +difficult to trace. But the justification of Poetry is obvious. When you +have told the thing in prose, you have made it false by making it +literal. Poesy lies a little to complete the truth which Honesty lacks +skill to embody. Her artifices are subtle and wonderful. You glance +sideways at the image, and you see it. You look it full in the face, and +it disappears.</p> + +<p>The plastic arts, too. This beautiful face commands me to paint from it +a picture twice as beautiful. Its charm of Nature I cannot attain. My +painting must not try for the edge of its flesh and blood forms, the +evanescence of its color, the light and shadow of its play of feature. +But something which the beautiful face could not know of itself the +artist knows of it. That deep interpretation of its ideal significance +marks the true master, who is never a Chinese copyist. Some of the +portraits that look down upon you from the walls of Rome and of Florence +calmly explain to you a whole eternity. Their eyes seem to have seized +it all, and to hold it beyond decay. This is what Art gives in the +picture,—not simply what appears and disappears,<a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a> but that which, being +interpreted, abides with us.</p> + +<p>Who shall say by what responsive depths the heights of architecture +measure themselves? The uplifted arches mirror the introspective soul. +So profoundly did I think, and plot, and contrive! So loftily must my +stone climax balance my cogitations! To such an amount of prayer allow +so many aisles and altars. The pillars of cloisters image the +brotherhood who walked in the narrow passages; straight, slender, paired +in steadfastness and beauty, there they stand, fair records of amity. +Columns of retrospect, let us hope that the souls they image did not +look back with longing upon the scenes which they were called upon to +forsake.</p> + +<p>Critical belief asks roomy enclosures and windows unmasked by artificial +impediments. It comes also to desire limits within which the voice of +the speaker can reach all present. Men must look each other in the face, +and construct prayer or sermon with the human alphabet. We are glad to +see the noble structures of older times maintained and renewed; but we +regret to see them imitated in our later day. (St. Peter's is, in all +save dimension, a church of Protestant architecture—so is St. Paul's, +of London.) The present has its own trials and agonies, its martyrdoms +and deliverances. With it, the old litanies must sink to sleep; the more +Christian of to-day efface the most<a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a> Christian of yesterday. The very +attitude of saintship is changed. The practical piety of our time looks +neither up nor down, but straight before it, at the men and women to be +relieved, at the work to be done. Religion to-day is not "height nor +depth nor any other creature," but God with us.</p> + +<p>There is a mystic birth and Providence in the succession of the Arts; +yet are they designed to dwell together, each needing the aid of all. +People often speak of sculpture as of an art purely and distinctively +Grecian. But the Greeks possessed all the Arts, and more, too,—the +substratum of democracy and the sublime of philosophy. No natural +jealousy prevails in this happy household. The Arts are not wives, of +whom one must die before another has proper place. They are sisters, +whose close communion heightens the charm of all by the excellence of +each. The Christian unanimity is as favorable to Art as to human +society.</p> + +<p>We may say that the Greeks attained a great perfection in sculpture, and +have continued in this art to offer the models of the world.</p> + +<p>When the great period of Italian art attained its full splendor, it +seemed as if the frozen crystals of Greek sculpture had melted before +the fire of Christian inspiration. But this transformation, like the +transfiguration of Hindoo deities, did not destroy the anterior in its +issue.<a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a></p> + +<p>The soul of sculpture ripened into painting, but Sculpture, the +beautiful mother, still lived and smiled upon her glowing daughter. See +Michael Angelo studying the torso! See the silent galleries of the +Vatican, where Form holds you in one room, Color presently detaining you +in another! And what are our Raphaels, Angelos, making to-day? Be sure +they are in the world, for the divine spirit of Art never leaves itself +without a witness. But what is their noble task? They are moulding +character, embodying the divine in human culture and in human +institutions. The Greek sculptures indicate and continue a fitting +reverence for the dignity and beauty of the human form; but the +reverence for the human soul which fills the world to-day is a holier +and happier basis of Art. From it must come records in comparison with +which obelisk and pyramid, triumphal arch and ghostly cathedral, shall +seem the toys and school appliances of the childhood of the race.</p> + +<p>To return to our original problem,—how shall we attain the proper human +stature, how add the wanting half to the half which is given?</p> + +<p>I answer: By labor and by faith, in which there is nothing accidental or +arbitrary. The very world in which we live is but a form, whose spirit, +breathing through Nature and Experience, slowly creates its own +interpretation, adding a new testament to an old testament, lifting the +veil between Truth<a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a> and Mercy, clasping the mailed hand of Righteousness +in the velvet glove of Peace.</p> + +<p>The spirit of Religion is the immanence of the divine in the human, the +image of the eternal in the transitory, of things infinite in things +limited. I have heard endless discussions and vexed statements of how +the world came out of chaos. From the Mosaic version to the last +rationalistic theory, I have been willing to give ear to these. It is a +subject upon which human ingenuity may exercise itself in its allowable +leisure. One thing concerns all of us much more; <i>viz.</i>, how to get +heaven out of earth, good out of evil, instruction out of opportunity.</p> + +<p>This is our true life work. When we have done all in this that life +allows us, we have not done more than half, the other half lying beyond +the pale struggle and the silent rest. Oh! when we shall reach that +bound, whatever may be wanting, let not courage and hope forsake us.<a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="Dante_and_Beatrice" id="Dante_and_Beatrice"></a>Dante and Beatrice</h3> + +<p><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a></p> + +<p class="text nind">DANTE and Beatrice—names linked together by holy affection and high +art. Ary Scheffer has shown them to us as in a beatific vision,—the +stern spirit which did not fear to confront the horrors of Hell held in +a silken leash of meekness by the gracious one through whose +intervention he passed unscathed through fire and torment, bequeathing +to posterity a record unique in the annals alike of literature and of +humanity.</p> + +<p>My first studies of the great poet are in the time long past, antedating +even that middle term of life which was for him the starting-point of a +new inspiration. Yet it seems to me that no part of my life, since that +reading, has been without some echo of the "Divine Comedy" in my mind. +In the walk through Hell, I strangely believe. Its warnings still +admonish me. I see the boat of Charon, with its mournful freight. I pass +before the judgment seat of Midas. I see the souls tormented in hopeless +flame. I feel the weight of the leaden cloaks. I shrink from the jar of +the flying rocks, hurled as weapons. For me, dark Ugolino still feeds +upon his enemy. Francesca still mates with her sad lover.<a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a></p> + +<p>From this hopeless abyss, I emerge to the kindlier pain of Purgatory, +whose end is almost Heaven. And of that blessed realm, my soul still +holds remembrance—of its solemn joy, of its unfolding revelation. The +vision of that mighty cross in which all the stars of the highest heaven +range themselves is before me, on each fair cluster the word "Cristo" +outshining all besides.</p> + +<p>Among my dearest recollections is that of an Easter sermon devised by me +for an ignorant black congregation in a far-off West Indian isle, in +which I told of this vision of the cross, and tried to make it present +to them. But this grateful remembrance which I have carried through so +many years does not regard the poet alone. In the world's great goods, +as in its great evils, a woman has her part. And this poem, which has +been such a boon to humanity, has for its central inspiration the memory +of a woman.</p> + +<p>In the prologue, already we hear of her. It is she who sends her poet +his poet-guide. When he shrinks from the painful progress which lies +before him, and deems the companionship even of Virgil an insufficient +pledge of safety, the words of his lady, repeated to him by his guide, +restore his sinking courage, and give him strength for his immortal +journey.</p> + +<p>Here are those words of Beatrice, spoken to Virgil, and by him brought +to Dante:—<a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">O courteous shade of Mantua! thou whose fame</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Yet lives and shall live long as Nature lasts!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A friend, not of my fortune, but myself,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">On the wide desert in his road has met</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Hindrance so great that he through fear has turned.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Assist him: so to me will comfort spring.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">I who now bid thee on this errand forth</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Am Beatrice.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Who and what was Beatrice, whose message gave Dante strength to explore +the fearful depths of evil and its punishment? This we may learn +elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Dante, passionate poet in his youth, has left to posterity a work unique +of its sort,—the romance of a childish love which grew with the growth +of the lover. In his adolescence, its intensity at times overpowers his +bodily senses. The years that built up his towering manhood built up +along with it this ideal womanhood, which, whether realized or +realizable, or neither, was the highest and holiest essence which his +imagination could infuse into a human form. The sweet shyness of that +first peep at the Beautiful, of that first thrill of the master chord of +being, is rendered immortal for us by the candor of this great master. +We can see the shamefaced boy, taken captive by the dazzling vision of +Beatrice, veiling the features of his unreasonable passion, and retiring +to his own closet, there to hide his joy at having found on earth a +thing so beautiful.<a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a></p> + +<p>Dante's love for Beatrice dates from the completion of his own ninth +year, and the beginning of hers. He first sees her at a May party, at +the house of her father, Folco Polinari. Her apparel, he says, "was of a +most noble tincture, a subdued and becoming crimson; and she wore a +girdle and ornaments becoming her childish years." At the sight of her, +his heart began to beat with painful violence. A master thought had +taken possession of him, and that master's name was well known to him, +as how should it not have been in that day when, if ever in this world, +Love was crowned lord of all? Urged by this tyrant, from time to time, +to go in search of Beatrice, he beheld in her, he says, a demeanor so +praiseworthy and so noble as to remind him of a line of Homer, regarding +Helen of Troy:—</p> + +<p class="c">"From heaven she had her birth, and not from mortal clay."</p> + +<p>These glimpses of her must have been transient ones, for the poet tells +us that his second meeting, face to face, with Beatrice occurred nine +years after their first encounter. Her childish charm had now ripened +into maidenly loveliness. He beholds her arrayed in purest white, +walking between two noble ladies older than herself. "As she passed +along the street, she turned her eyes toward the spot where I, thrilled +through and through with awe, was standing; and in her ineffable +courtesy, which<a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a> now hath its guerdon in everlasting life, she saluted +me in such gracious wise that I seemed in that moment to behold the +utmost bounds of bliss."</p> + +<p>He now begins to dream of her in his sleeping moments, and to rhyme of +her in his waking hours. In his first vision, Love appears with Beatrice +in his arms. In one hand he holds Dante's flaming heart, upon which he +constrains her to feed; after which, weeping, he gathers up his fair +burthen and ascends with her to Heaven. This dream seemed to Dante fit +to be communicated to the many famous poets of the time. He embodies it +in a sonnet, which opens thus:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">To every captive soul and gentle heart</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Into whose sight shall come this song of mine,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">That they to me its matter may divine,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Be greeting in Love's name, our master's, sent.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>And now begins for him a season of love-lorn pining and heart-sickness. +The intensity of the attraction paralyzes in him the power of +approaching its object. His friends notice his altered looks, and ask +the cause of this great change in him. He confesses that it is the +master passion, but so misleads them as to the person beloved, as to +bring upon another a scandal by his feigning. For this he is punished by +the displeasure of Beatrice, who, passing him in the street, refuses him +that salutation the very hope of which, he says, kindled such<a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a> a flame +of charity within him as to make him forget and forgive every offence +and injury.</p> + +<p>Love now visits him in his sleep, in the guise of a youth arrayed in +garments of exceeding whiteness, and desires him to indite certain words +in rhyme, which, though not openly addressed to Beatrice, shall yet +assure her of what she partly knows,—that the poet's heart has been +hers from boyhood. The ballad which he composes in obedience to his +love's command is not a very literal rendering of his story.</p> + +<p>He now begins to have many conflicting thoughts about Love, two of which +constitute a very respectable antinomy. One of these tells him that the +empire of Love is good, because it turns the inclinations of its vassal +from all that is base. The opposite thought is: "The empire of Love is +not good, since the more absolute the allegiance of his vassal, the more +severe and woful are the straits through which he must perforce pass."</p> + +<p>These conflicting thoughts sought expression in a sonnet, of which I +will quote a part:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Of Love, Love only, speaks my every thought;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And all so various they be that one</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Bids me bow down to his dominion,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Another counsels me his power is naught.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">One, flushed with hopes, is all with sweetness fraught;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Another makes full oft my tears to run.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">. . . . . . . .<a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Where, then, to turn, what think, I cannot tell.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Fain would I speak, yet know not what to say.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>While these uncertainties still possess him, Dante is persuaded by a +friend to attend a bridal festivity, where it is hoped that the sight of +much beauty may give him great pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Why have you brought me among these ladies?" he asks. "In order that +they may be properly attended," is the answer.</p> + +<p>Small attendance can Dante give upon these noble beauties. A fatal +tremor seizes him; he looks up and, beholding Beatrice, can see nothing +else. Nay, even of her his vision is marred by the intensity of his +feeling. The ladies first wonder at his agitation, and then make merry +over it, Beatrice apparently joining in their merriment. His friend, +chagrined at his embarrassment, now asks the cause of it; to which +question Dante replies: "I have set my foot in that part of life to pass +beyond which, with purpose to return, is impossible."</p> + +<p>With these words the poet departs, and in his chamber of tears persuades +himself that Beatrice would not have joined in the laughter of her +friends if she had really known his state of mind. Then follows, +naturally, a sonnet:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">With other ladies thou dost flaunt at me,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Nor thinkest, lady, whence doth come the change,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">What fills mine aspect with a trouble strange</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">When I the wonder of thy beauty see.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">If thou didst know, thou must, for charity,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Forswear the wonted rigor of thine eye.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>With this poetic utterance comes the plain prose question: "Seeing thou +dost present an aspect so ridiculous whenever thou art near this lady, +wherefore dost thou seek to come into her presence?"</p> + +<p>It takes two sonnets to answer this question. He is not the only person +who asks it. Meeting with some merry dames, he is thus questioned by her +of them who seems "most gay and pleasant of discourse:" "Unto what end +lovest thou this lady, seeing that her near presence overwhelms thee?" +In reply, he professes himself happy in having words wherewith to speak +the praises of his lady, and going thence, determines in his heart to +devote his powers of expression to that high theme. He leaves the +cramping sonnet now, and expands his thought in the <i>canzone</i>, of which +I need only repeat the first line:—</p> + +<p class="c">Ladies who have the intellect of Love.</p> + +<p>Why the course of this true love never did run smooth, we know not. +Beatrice, at the proper age, was given in marriage to Messer Simone dei +Bardi. It is thought that she was wedded to him before the occasion on +which Dante's love-lorn appearance moved her to a mirth which may have +been feigned.<a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a> Still, the thought of her continues to be his greatest +possession, and he and his master, Love, hold many arguments together +concerning the bliss and bane of this high fancy. He has great comfort +in the general esteem in which his lady is held, and is proud and glad +when those who see her passing in the street hasten to get a better view +of her. He sees the controlling power of her loveliness in its influence +on those around her, who are not thrown into the shade, but brightened, +by her radiance.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Such virtue rare her beauty hath, in sooth</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">No envy stirs in other ladies' breast;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">But in its light they walk beside her, dressed</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In gentleness, and love, and noble truth.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Her looks whate'er they light on seem to bless;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Nor her alone make lovely to the view,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">But all her peers through her have honor, too.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Dante was still engaged in interpreting the merits of Beatrice to the +world when that most gentle being met the final conflict, and received +the crown of immortality. His first feeling is that Florence is made +desolate by her loss. He can think of no words but those with which the +prophet Jeremiah bewailed the spoiling of Jerusalem: "How doth the city +sit desolate!" The princes of the earth, he thinks, should learn the +loss of this more than princess. He speaks of her in sonnet and +<i>canzone</i>.</p> + +<p>The passing of a band of pilgrims in the street suggests to him the +thought that they do not know<a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a> of his sweet saint, nor of her death, and +that if they did, they would perforce stop to weep with him:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Tell me, ye pilgrims, who so thoughtful go,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Musing, mayhap, on what is far away,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Come ye from climes so far, as your array</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And look of foreign nurture seem to shew,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">That from your eyes no tears of pity flow,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">As ye along our mourning city stray,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Serene of countenance and free, as they</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Who of her deep disaster nothing know?</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Oh! she hath lost her Beatrice, her saint,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And what of her her co-mates can reveal</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Must drown with tears even strangers' hearts, perforce.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>On the first anniversary of his lady's death, as he sits absorbed in +thoughts of her, he sketches the figure of an angel upon his tablets. +Turning presently from his work, he sees near him some gentlemen of his +acquaintance, who are watching the movements of his pencil. He answers +the interruption thus:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Into my lonely thoughts that noble dame</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Whom Love bewails, had entered in the hour</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">When you, my friends, attracted by his power,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">To see the task that did employ me came.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Many a sigh of dole escapes his heart, he says,</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">But they which came with sharpest pang were those</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Which said: "O intellect of noble mould,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A year to-day it is since thou didst seek the skies."</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>We may find, perhaps, a more wonderful proof of his constancy in his +stout-hearted resistance to the charms of a beautiful lady who regards +him with that intense pity which is akin to love. To her he says:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Never was Pity's semblance, or Love's hue</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">So wondrously in face of lady shown,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">That tenderly gave ear to Sorrow's moan</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Or looked on woful eyes, as shows in you.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>To this new attraction he is on the point of surrendering, when the +vision of Beatrice rises before him, as he first saw her,—robed in +crimson, and bright with the angelic beauty of childhood. All other +thoughts are put to flight by this, and with renewed faith he devotes +himself to the memory of Beatrice, hoping to say of her some day "that +which hath never yet been said of any lady."</p> + +<p>All who have been lovers—and who has not?—must feel, I think, that the +"Vita Nuova" is the romance of a true love. The Beatrice of the "Divina +Commedia" is this love, and much more. Dante has had a deep and availing +experience of life. Statesman and scholar, he has laid his fiery soul +upon the world's great anvil, where Fate, with heavy hammering and fiery +blowing, has wrought out of him a stern, sad man, so hunted and exiled +that the ways of Imagination alone are open to<a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a> him. In its domain, he +calls around him the majestic shadows of those with whom his life has +made him familiar. For him, the way to Heaven lies through Hell and +Purgatory. Into these regions, the blessed Beatrice cannot come. She +sends, however, the poet shade, who seems to her most fit to be his +guide. The classic refinement makes evident to him the vulgarity of sin +and the logic of its consequences. He surveys the eternal, hopeless +punishment, and passes through the cleansing fires of Purgatory, at +whose outer verge, a fair vision comes to bless him. Beatrice, in a +mystical car, her beauty at first concealed by a veil of flowers which +drop from the hands of attendant angels, speaks to him in tones which +move his penitential grief.</p> + +<p>The high love of his youth thus appears to him as accusing Conscience, +which stands to question him with the offended majesty of a loving +mother. Through her rebukes, precious in their bitterness, he attains to +that view of his own errors without which it would have been impossible +for him to forsake them. It is a real orthodox "repentance and +conviction of sin" with which the religious renewal of his life begins. +Tormented by this cruel retrospect, the poet is mercifully bathed in the +waters of forgetfulness, and then, being made a new creature, regains +the society of Beatrice.<a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a></p> + +<p>Seated at the root of the great Tree of Humanity, she bids him take note +of the prophetic vision which symbolizes the history of the church. Of +the sanctity of the tree, she thus admonishes him:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="right">This whoso robs,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">This whoso plucks, with blasphemy of deed</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sins against God, who for His use alone</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Creating, hallowed it.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Dante drinks now of a stream whose sweetness can never satiate, and from +that holy wave returns,</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="right">Regenerate,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Pure, and made apt for mounting to the stars.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>It appears to me quite simple and natural that the image of the poet's +earthly love, long lost from physical sense, should prompt the awakening +of his higher nature, which, obscured, as he confesses, by the disorders +of his mortal life, asserts itself with availing authority when +Beatrice, the beloved, becomes present to his mind. All progress, all +heavenly learning, is thenceforth associated with her. High as he may +climb, she always leads him. Where he passes as a stranger, she is at +home. Where he poorly guesses, she wholly knows. Nor does he part from +her until he has attained the highest point of spiritual vision, where +he sees her throned and crowned in immortal glory, and above her, the +lovely one of Heaven,—the Virgin Mother<a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a> of Christ. What he sees after +this, he says, cannot be told with mortal tongue.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Here vigor failed the towering fantasy,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">But yet the will rolled onward, like a wheel,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In even motion, by the love impelled</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">That moves the sun in heaven and all the stars.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Two opposite points in great authors give us pleasure; <i>viz.</i>, the +originality of their talent or genius, and the catholicity of their +sentiments and interest,—in other words, their likeness and their +unlikeness to the average of humanity. We are delighted to find Plato at +once so modern and so ancient, his prevision and prophecy needing so +little adaptation to make them germane to the wants of our own or of any +other time, his grasp of apprehension and comparison so peculiar to +himself, so unrivalled by any thinker of any time. In like manner, the +medival pictures drawn by Dante delight us, and the bold daring of his +imagination. At the same time, the perfectly sound and rational common +sense of many of his utterances seems familiar from its accordance with +the soundest criticism of our own time:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">Florence within her ancient circle set,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Remained in sober, modest quietness.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Nor chains had she, nor crowns, nor women decked</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In gay attire, with splendid cincture bound,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">More to be gazed at than the form itself.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Not yet the daughter to the father brought</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Fear from her birth, the marriage time and dower</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Not yet departing from their fitting measure.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Nor houses had she, void of household life.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sardanapalus had not haply shown</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The deeds which may be hid by chamber walls.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">I saw Bellincion Berti go his way</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">With bone and leather belted. From the glass</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">His lady moved, no paint upon her face.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">I saw the Lords of Norti and del Vecchio content,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Their household dames engaged with spool and spindle.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>The theory of the good old time, we see, is not a modern invention.</p> + +<p>Dante inherits the great heart of chivalry, wise before its time in the +uplifting of Woman. The wonderful worship of the Virgin Mother, in which +are united the two poles of womanhood, completed the ideal of the Divine +Human, and cast a new glory upon the sex. Can we doubt that knight and +minstrel found a true inspiration in the lady of their heart? A mere +pretence or affection is a poor thing to fight for or to sing for. Men +will not imperil their lives for what they know to be a lie.</p> + +<p>This newly awakened reverence for woman—shall we call it a race +characteristic? It was a golden gift to any race. Plato's deep doctrine +that all learning is a reminiscence may avail us in questioning this. +The human race does not carry the bulk of its knowledge in its hand. +Busy with its<a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a> tools and toys, it forgets its ancestral heirlooms, and +leaves unexplored the legacy of the past. But in some mystical way, the +treasures lost from remembrance turn up and come to sight again. In the +far Caucasus, from which we came, there were glimpses of this ideal wife +and mother.</p> + +<p>This history, whether real or imaginary, or both, suggests to me the +question whether the love which brings together and binds together men +and women can in any way typify the supreme affections of the soul? That +it was supposed to do so in medival times is certain. The sentimental +agonies of troubadours and minstrels make it evident. Even the latest +seedy sprout of chivalry, Don Quixote, shows us this. Wishing to start +upon a noble errand, the succor of oppressed humanity, his almost first +requisite is a "lady of his heart," who, in his case, is a mere lay +figure upon which he drapes the fantastic weaving of his imagination.</p> + +<p>Another question, like unto the first, is this,—whether the heroic mode +of loving is or is not a lost art in our days.</p> + +<p>That Plato and Socrates should busy themselves with it, that mystics and +philosophers should find such a depth of interest in the attraction +which one nature exerts upon another, and that, <i>per contra</i>, in our +time, this mystical attraction should flatten, or, as singers say, flat +out into a decorous observance of rules, assisting a mutual +endurance—what does<a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a> it mean? Is Pan dead, and are the other gods dead +with him?</p> + +<p>In an age widely, if not deeply, critical, we lose sight of the +primitive affections and temperament of our race. Affection's self +becomes merged in opinion. We contemplate, we compare, we are not able +to covet any but surface distinctions, surface attractions. Even the +poets who give us the expression of a lively participation in human +instincts are disowned by us. Wordsworth is chosen, and Byron is +discarded. We are not too rich with both of them. Inspired Browning—for +the man who wrote "Pippa" and "Saul" was inspired—loses himself and his +music in the dismal swamp of metaphysical speculation. Just at present, +it seems to me that the world has lost one of its noblest leadings; +<i>viz.</i>, the desire for true companionship. Arid love of pleasure, more +arid worship of wealth, paralyze those higher powers of the soul which +take hold on friendship and on love. To know those only who can advance +your personal objects, be these amusement or ambition; to marry at +auction, going, going, for so much,—how can we who have but one human +life to live so cheat ourselves out of its real rights and privileges?</p> + +<p>Is this a pathological symptom in the body social, produced by a surfeit +in the direction of inclination? One might think so, since asceticism +has no joylessness comparable to that of the blasted<a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a> <i>rou</i> or utter +worldling. In France, where the bent of romantic literature has been the +following of inclination,—from George Sand, who consecrates it, down to +the latest scrofulous scribbler, who outrages it,—on the banks of this +turbid stream of literature, one constantly meets with the apples of +Sodom. "There is no other fruit," say the venders. "You cultivate none +other," is the fitting reply.</p> + +<p>The world of thought is ever full of problems as contradictory of each +other as the antinomies of which I just now made a passing mention. The +right interpretation of these riddles is of great moment in our +spiritual and intellectual life. The ages and ons of human experience +tend, on the whole, to a gradual unification of persuasion and +conviction on the part of thinking beings, and much that a prophet +breathes into a hopeless blank acquires meaning in the light of +succeeding centuries.</p> + +<p>This great problem of love continues to be full of contradictory aspects +to those who would explore it. We distinguish between divine love and +human love, but have yet to decide whether Love absolute is divine or +human; for this deity is known to us from all time in two opposite +shapes,—as a destructive and as a constructive god. He unmakes the man, +he unmakes the woman, sucks up precious years of human life like a +sponge, sets Troy ablaze, maddens harmless Io with a stinging gad-fly.<a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a></p> + +<p>On the other hand, where Love is not, nothing is. Luxurious Solomon +praises a dinner of herbs enriched by his presence. All poetry, all +doctrine, is founded upon human affection assumed as essential to life, +nay, as life itself; for when love of life and its objects exists not, +the vital flame flickers feebly, and expires early. In ethics, social +and religious, what contradictions do we encounter under this head! From +all inordinate and sinful affections, good Lord, deliver us! is a good +prayer. But how shall we treat the case when there are no affections at +all? We might add a clause to our litany,—From lovelessness and all +manner of indifference, good Lord, deliver us! What more direful +sentence than to say that a person has no heart? What sin more severely +punished than any extravagant action of this same heart?</p> + +<p>These wonders of lofty sentiment and high imagination are precious +subjects of study. The construction of a great poem, of which the +interest is at once intense, various, and sustained, seems to us a work +more appropriate to other days than to our own. I remember in my youth a +fluent critic who was fond of saying that if Milton had lived in this +day of the world, he would not have thought of writing an epic poem. To +which another of the same stripe would reply: "If he did write such a +poem in these days, nobody would read it." I wonder how long the frisky +impatience of our youth<a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a> will think it worth while to follow even Homer +in his long narratives.</p> + +<p>More than this sustained power of the imagination, does the heroic in +sentiment seem to decrease and to be wanting among us. Those lofty views +of human affection and relation which we find in the great poets seem +almost foreign to the civilization of to-day. I find in modern +scepticism this same impatience of weighty thoughts. He who believes +only in the phenomenal universe does not follow a conviction. A fatal +indolence of mind prevents him from following any lead which threatens +fatigue and difficult labor. Instead of a temple for the Divine, our man +of to-day builds a commodious house for himself,—at best, a club-house +for his set or circle. And the worst of it is, that he teaches his son +to do the same thing.</p> + +<p>The social change which I notice to-day as a decline in attachments +simply personal is partly the result of a political change which I, for +one, cannot deplore. The idea of the state and of society as bodies in +which each individual has a direct interest gives to men and women of +to-day an enlarged sphere of action and of instruction. The absolutely +universal coincidence of the real advantage of the individual with that +of the community, always true in itself, and neither now nor at any time +fully comprehended, gives the fundamental tone to thought and education +to-day. The<a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a> result is a tendency to generality, to publicity, and a +neglect of those relations into which external power and influence do +not enter. The action of mind upon mind, of character upon character, +outside of public life, is intense, intimate, insensible. Temperament is +most valued nowadays for its effect upon multitudes. We wish to be +recognized as moving in a wide and exalted sphere. The belle in the +ball-room is glad to have it reported that the Prince of Wales admires +her. The lady who should grace a lady's sphere pines for the stage and +the footlights. Actions and appearances are calculated to be seen of +men.</p> + +<p>I say no harm of this tendency, which has enfranchised me and many +others from the cruel fetters of a narrow and personal judgment. It is +safe and happy to have the public for a final court of appeal, and to be +able, when an issue is misjudged or distorted, to call upon its great +heart to say where the right is, and where the wrong. But let us, in our +panorama of wide activities, keep with all the more care these pictures +of spirits that have been so finely touched within the limits of +Nature's deepest reserve and modesty. This medival did not go to +dancing-school nor to Harvard College. He could not talk of the fellows +and the girls. But from his early childhood, he holds fast the tender +remembrance of a beautiful and gracious face. The thought of it, and of +the<a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a> high type of woman which it images, is to him more fruitful of joy +and satisfaction than the amusements of youth or the gaieties of the +great world. Death removes this beloved object from his sight, but not +from his thoughts. Years pass. His genius reaches its sublime maturity. +He becomes acquainted with camps and courts, with the learning and the +world of his day. But when, with all his powers, he would build a +perfect monument to Truth, he takes her perfect measure from the hand of +his child-love. The world keeps that work, and will keep it while +literature shall last. It has many a subtle passage, many a wonderful +picture, but at its height, crowned with all names divine, he has +written, as worthy to be remembered with these, the name of Beatrice.<a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a></p> + +<p class="c"><small>PRINTED AT THE EVERETT PRESS BOSTON MASS</small>.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Is Polite Society Polite?, by Julia Ward Howe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IS POLITE SOCIETY POLITE? *** + +***** This file should be named 34271-h.htm or 34271-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/7/34271/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 + + +Title: Is Polite Society Polite? + and Other Essays + +Author: Julia Ward Howe + +Release Date: November 10, 2010 [EBook #34271] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IS POLITE SOCIETY POLITE? *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Photo of Julia Ward Howe + +Signed, + +Yours very cordially, + +Julia Ward Howe.] + + + + +Is Polite Society Polite? + +And Other Essays + +BY + +[Illustration: colophon] + +MRS. JULIA WARD HOWE + +BOSTON & NEW YORK + +Lamson, Wolffe, & Company + +1895 + +Copyright, 1895, By Lamson, Wolffe, & Co. + +All rights reserved + + + + +Preface + + +I REMEMBER that, quite late in the fifties, I mentioned to Theodore +Parker the desire which I began to feel to give living expression to my +thoughts, and to lend to my written words the interpretation of my +voice. + +Parker, who had taken a friendly interest in the publication of my first +volumes, "Passion Flowers" and "Words for the Hour," gave his approval +also to this new project of mine. "The great desire of the age," he +said, "is for vocal expression. People are scarcely satisfied with the +printed page alone: they crave for their instruction the living voice +and the living presence." + +At the time of which I write, no names of women were found in the lists +of lecture courses. Lucy Stone had graduated from Oberlin, and was +beginning to be known as an advocate of temperance, and as an +antislavery speaker. Lucretia Mott had carried her eloquent pleading +outside the limits of her Quaker belonging. Antoinette Brown Blackwell +occupied the pulpit of a Congregational church, while Abby Kelly Foster +and the Grimke Sisters stood forth as strenuous pleaders for the +abolition of slavery. Of these ladies I knew little at the time of which +I speak, and my studies and endeavors occupied a field remote from that +in which they fought the good fight of faith. My thoughts ran upon the +importance of a helpful philosophy of life, and my heart's desire was to +assist the efforts of those who sought for this philosophy. + +Gradually these wishes took shape in some essays, which I read to +companies of invited friends. Somewhat later, I entered the lecture +field, and journeyed hither and yon, as I was invited. + +The papers collected in the present volume have been heard in many parts +of our vast country. As is evident, they have been written for popular +audiences, with a sense of the limitations which such audiences +necessarily impose. With the burthen of increasing years, the freedom of +locomotion naturally tends to diminish, and I must be thankful to be +read where I have in other days been heard. I shall be glad indeed if it +may be granted to these pages to carry the message which I myself have +been glad to bear,--the message of the good hope of humanity, despite +the faults and limitations of individuals. + +That hope casts its light over the efforts of years that are past, and +gilds for me, with ineffaceable glow, the future of our race. + +The lecture, "Is Polite Society Polite?" was written for a course of +lectures given some years ago by the New England Women's Club of Boston. +"Greece Revisited" was first read before the Town and Country Club of +Newport, R.I. "Aristophanes" and "Dante and Beatrice" were written for +the Summer School of Philosophy at Concord, Mass. "The Halfness of +Nature" was first read before the Boston Radical Club. "The Salon in +America" was written for the Contemporary Club in Philadelphia. + + + + +Contents + + +Preface + +Is Polite Society Polite Page 3 + +Paris 37 + +Greece Revisited 77 + +The Salon in America 113 + +Aristophanes 133 + +The Halfness of Nature 161 + +Dante and Beatrice 181 + + + + +Is Polite Society Polite? + + +WHY do we ask this question? For reasons which I shall endeavor to make +evident. + +The life in great cities awakens a multitude of ambitions. Some people +are very unscrupulous in following these ambitions, attaining their +object either by open force and pushing, or by artful and cunning +manoeuvres. And so it will happen that in the society which considers +itself entitled to rank above all other circles one may meet with people +whose behavior is guided by no sincere and sufficient rule of conduct. +Observing their shortcomings, we may stand still and ask, Are these +people what they should be? Is polite society polite? + +For this society, which is supposed to be nothing if not polite, does +assume, in every place, to set up the standard of taste and to regulate +the tone of manners. It aims to be what Hamlet once was in Ophelia's +eyes--"the glass of fashion and the mould of form." Its forms and +fashions change, of course, from age to age, and yet it is a steadfast +institution in the development of human civilization. + +I should be sorry to overstate its shortcomings, but I wish I might help +it to feel its obligations and to fulfil them. + +What shall we accept in the ordinary sense of men as politeness? Shall +we consider it a mere surface polish--an attitude expressive of +deference--corresponding to no inward grace of good feeling? Will you +like to live with the person who, in the great world, can put on fine +manners, but who, in the retirement of home, manifests the vulgarity of +a selfish heart and an undisciplined temper? + +No, you will say; give me for my daily companions those who always wear +the best manners they have. For manners are not like clothes: you can +mend them best when you have them on. + +We may say at the outset that sincerity is the best foundation upon +which to build the structure of a polite life. The affectation of +deference does not impose upon people of mature experience. It carries +its own contradiction with it. When I hear the soft voice, a little too +soft, I look into the face to see whether the two agree. But I need +scarcely do that. The voice itself tells the story, is sincere or +insincere. Flattery is, in itself, an offence against politeness. It is +oftenest administered to people who are already suffering the +intoxication of vanity. When I see this, I wish that I could enforce a +prohibitory ordinance against it, and prosecute those who use it mostly +to serve their own selfish purposes. But people can be trained never to +offer nor to receive this dangerous drug of flattery, and I think that, +in all society which can be called good, it becomes less and less the +mode to flavor one's dishes with it. + +Having spoken of flattery, I am naturally led to say a word about its +opposite, detraction. + +The French have a witty proverb which says that "the absent are always +in the wrong," and which means that the blame for what is amiss is +usually thrown upon those who are not present to defend themselves. It +seems to me that the rules of politeness are to be as carefully observed +toward the absent as toward those in whose company we find ourselves. +The fact that they cannot speak in their own defence is one which should +appeal to our nicest sense of honor. Good breeding, or its reverse, is +as much to be recognized in the way in which people speak of others as +in the way in which they speak to them. + +Have we not all felt the tone of society to be lowered by a low view of +the conduct and motives of those who are made the subjects of +discussion? + +Those unfortunate men and women who delight in talk of this sort always +appear to me degraded by it. No matter how clever they may be, I avoid +their society, which has in it a moral malaria most unwholesome in +character. + +I am glad to say that, although frivolous society constantly shows its +low estimate of human nature, I yet think that the gay immolation of +character which was once considered a legitimate source of amusement +has gone somewhat out of fashion. Sheridan's "School for Scandal" gives +us some notion of what this may once have been. I do think that the +world has grown more merciful in later years, and that even people who +meet only for their own amusement are learning to seek it without +murdering the reputation of their absent friends. + +There is a mean impulse in human nature which leads some people to toss +down the reputation of their fellows just as the Wall Street bear tosses +down the value of the investments whose purchase he wishes to command at +his own price. But in opposition to this, God has set within us a power +which reacts against such base estimates of mankind. The utterance of +this false tone often calls out the better music, and makes us admire +the way in which good springs up in the very footsteps of evil and +effaces them as things of nought. + +Does intercourse with great society make us more or less polite? +Elizabeth Browning says:-- + + First time he kissed me he but only kissed + The fingers of this hand wherewith I write, + Which ever thence did grow more clean and white, + Slow to world greetings, quick with its "Oh, list," + When the angels speak. + +This clearly expresses the sanctification of a new and noble interest. +How is it with those on whom the great world has set its seal of +superior position, which is derived from a variety of sources, among +which wealth, recognized talent, and high descent are the most +important? + +I must say in answer that this social recognition does not affect all +people in the same manner. One passes the ordeal unscathed, is as fresh +in affection, as genuine in relation and intercourse, as faithful to +every fine and true personal obligation in the fiery furnace of wealth +and fashion and personal distinction as he or she was in the simple +village or domestic life, in which there was no question of greatness or +smallness, all being of nearly the same dimensions. + +The great world may boast of its jewels which no furnace blast can melt +or dim, but they are rare. Madame de Stael and Madame Recamier seem to +have been among these undimmed gems; so, also, was Madame de Sevigne, +with a heart warm with love for her children and her friends in all the +dazzle of a brilliant court. So I have seen a vessel of the finest +glass, thin as paper, which a chemist left over his spirit-lamp, full of +boiling liquid, and, returning the next day, found uninjured, so perfect +was the temper of the glass. But for one such unspoiled world-favorite, +I can show you twenty men and women who, at the first lift of fortune, +forsake their old friends, neglect their near relations, and utterly +ignore their poor ones. + +Romance is full of such shameful action; and let me say here, in +passing, that in my opinion Romance often wears off our horror of what +is wicked and heartless by showing it as a permanent and recognized +element of society. This is the reverse of what it should do. But in +these days it so exceeds its office in the hunt after the exhausted +susceptibilities of a novel-reading public that it really thumps upon +our aversion to vice until it wears it out. + +De Balzac's novel called "Father Goriot" tells the story of a man of +humble origin who grows rich by trade, educates his daughters for +fashionable life, marries them to men of condition, portions them +abundantly, and is in return kept carefully out of what the world knows +of their lives. They seek him only when they want money, which they +always do, in spite of the rich dowry settled on them at their marriage. +_Father Goriot_ sells his last piece of silver to help them, and dies in +a low boarding-house, tended by the charity of strangers, tormented to +the last by the bickering of his children, but not cheered for one +moment by their affection. + +I have heard on good authority that people of wealth and position in our +large cities sometimes deposit their aged and helpless parents in +asylums where they may have all that money can buy for them, but nothing +of what gratitude and affection should give them. How detestable such a +course is I need not say; my present business is to say that it is far +from polite. + +Apropos of this suggestion, I remember that I was once invited to read +this essay to a village audience in one of the New England States. My +theme was probably one quite remote from the general thought of my +hearers. As I went on, their indifference began to affect me, and my +thought was that I might as well have appealed to a set of wooden +tenpins as to those who were present on that occasion. + +In this, I afterwards learned that I was mistaken. After the conclusion +of the evening's exercise, a young man, well known in the community, was +heard to inquire urgently where he could find the lecturer. Friends +asked, what did he want of her? He replied: "Well, I did put my brother +in the poorhouse, and now that I have heard Mrs. Howe, I suppose that I +must take him out." + +Need I say that I felt myself amply repaid for the trouble I had taken? +On the other hand, this same theme was once selected from my list by a +lecture association in a small town buried in the forests of the far +West. As I surveyed my somewhat home-spun audience, I feared that a +discussion of the faults of polite society would interest my hearers +very little. I was surprised after my reading to hear, from more than +one of those present, that this lecture appeared to them the very thing +that was most needed in that place. + +There is to my mind something hideous in the concealment and disregard +of real connections which involve real obligations. + +If you are rich, take up your poor relations. Assist them at least to +find the way of earning a competence. Use the power you have to bring +them within the sphere of all that is refining. You can embellish the +world to them and them to the world. Do so, and you will be respected by +those whose respect is valuable. On the contrary, repudiate those who +really belong to you and the mean world itself will laugh at you and +despise you. It is clever and cunning enough to find out your secret, +and when it has done so, it will expose you pitilessly. + +I have known men and women whose endeavors and successes have all been +modelled upon the plane of social ambition. Starting with a good +common-school education, which is a very good thing to start with, they +have improved opportunities of culture and of desirable association +until they stand conspicuous, far away from the sphere of their village +or homemates, having money to spend, able to boast of wealthy +acquaintances, familiar guests at fashionable entertainments. + +Now sometimes these individuals wander so far away from their original +belongings that these latter are easily lost sight of. And I assure you +that they are left in the dark, in so far as concerns the actions of +the friends we are now considering. Many a painstaking mother at a +distance, many a plain but honest old father, many a sister working in a +factory to help a brother at college, is never spoken of by such +persons, and is even thought of with a blush of shame and annoyance. + +Oh! shame upon the man or woman of us who is guilty of such behavior as +this! These relatives are people to be proud of, as we should know if we +had the heart to know what is true, good, and loyal. Even were it not +so, were your relative a criminal, never deny the bond of nature. Stand +beside him in the dock or at the gallows. You have illustrious precedent +for such association in one whom men worship, but forget to imitate. + +Let me here relate a little story of my early years. I had a nursery +governess when I was a small child. She came from some country town, and +probably regarded her position in my father's family as a promotion. One +evening, while we little folks gathered about her in our nursery, she +wept bitterly. "What is the matter?" we asked; and she took me up in her +lap, and said: "My poor old father came here to see me to-day, and I +would not see him. I bade them tell him that he had mistaken the house, +and he went away, and as he went I saw him looking up at the windows so +wistfully!" Poor woman! We wept with her, feeling that this was indeed +a tragical event, and not knowing what she could do to make it better. + +But could I see that woman now, I would say to her: "If you were serving +the king at his table, and held his wine-cup in your hand, and your +father stood without, asking for you, you should set down the cup, and +go out from the royal presence to honor your father, so much the more if +he is poor, so much the more if he is old." And all that is really +polite in polite society would say so too. + +Now this action which I report of my governess corresponds to something +in human nature, and to something which polite society fosters. + +For polite society bases itself upon exclusions. In this it partly +appeals to that antagonism of our nature through which the desire to +possess something is greatly exaggerated by the difficulty of becoming +possessed of it. If every one can come to your house, no one, you think, +will consider it a great object of desire to go there. Theories of +supply and demand come in here. People would gladly destroy things that +give pleasure, in order to enhance their value in the hands of the few. + +I once heard a lady, herself quite new in society, say of a Parisian +dame who had shown her some attention: "Ah! the trouble with Madame---- +is that she is too good-natured. She entertains everybody." "Indeed," +thought I, "if she had been less good-natured, is it certain that she +would have entertained you?" + +But of course the justifiable side of exclusion is choice, selection of +one's associates. No society can confer the absolute right or power to +make this selection. Tiresome and unacceptable people are everywhere +entangled in relations with wise and agreeable ones. There is no bore +nor torment who has not the right to incommode some fireside or assembly +with his or her presence. You cannot keep wicked, foolish, tiresome, +ugly people out of society, however you and your set may delight in good +conduct, grace, and beauty. You cannot keep poor people out of the +society of the rich. Those whom you consider your inferiors feed your +cherished stomach, and drape your sacred person, and stand behind your +chair at your feasts, judging your manners and conversation. + +Let us remember Mr. Dickens's story of "Little Dorrit," in which _Mr. +Murdle_, a new-rich man, sitting with guests at his own sumptuous table, +is described as dreading the disapprobation of his butler. This he might +well do, as the butler was an expert, well aware of the difference +between a gentleman of breeding and education and a worldling, lifted by +the possession of wealth alone. + +Very genial in contrast with this picture appears the response of +Abraham Lincoln, who, on being asked by the head waiter at his first +state dinner whether he would take white wine or red, replied: "I don't +know; which would you?" + +Well, what can society do, then? It can decree that those who come of a +certain set of families, that those who have a certain education, and +above all, a certain income, shall associate together on terms of +equality. And with this decree there comes to foolish human nature a +certain irrational desire to penetrate the charmed circle so formed. + +The attempt to do this encounters resistance; there is pushing in and +shoving out,--coaxing and wheedling on the one hand, and cold denial or +reluctant assent on the other. So a fight is perpetually going on in the +realm of fashion. Those not yet recognized are always crowding in. Those +first in occupation are endeavoring to crowd these out. In the end, +perseverance usually conquers. + +But neither of these processes is polite--neither the crowding in nor +the crowding out--and this last especially, as many of those who are in +were once out, and are trying to keep other people from doing what they +themselves have been very glad to do. In Mr. Thackeray's great romance, +"The Newcomes," young _Ethel Newcome_ asks her grandmother, _Lady Kew_, +"Well then, grandmother, who is of a good family?" And the old lady +replies: "Well, my dear, mostly no one." But I would reply: Mostly +every one, if people are disposed to make their family good. + +There is an obvious advantage in society's possession of a recognized +standard of propriety in general deportment; but the law of good +breeding should nowhere be merely formal, nor should its application be +petty and captious. The externals of respectability are most easily aped +when they are of the permanent and stereotyped kind, and may be used to +conceal gross depravity; while the constant, fresh, gracious inspiration +of a pure, good heart is unmistakable, and cannot be successfully +counterfeited. + +On the other hand, young persons should be desirous to learn the opinion +of older ones as to what should and should not be done on the ground of +general decorum and good taste. Youth is in such hot haste to obtain +what it desires that it often will not wait to analyze the spirit of an +occasion, but classes opposition to its inclinations as prejudice and +antiquated superstition. But the very individual who in youth thus +scoffs at restraint often pays homage to it in later days, having +meanwhile ascertained the weighty reasons which underlie the whole law +of reserve upon which the traditions of good society are based. + +How much trouble, then, might it save if the young people, as a rule, +were to come to the elders and ask at least why this thing or that is +regarded as unbecoming or of doubtful propriety. And how much would it +assist this good understanding if the elders, to the last, were careful +to keep up with the progress of the time, examining tendencies, keeping +a vigilant eye upon fashions, books, and personages, and, above all, +encouraging the young friends to exercise their own powers of +discrimination in following usages and customs, or in departing from +them. + +This last suggestion marks how far the writer of these pages is behind +the progress of the age. In her youth, it was customary for sons and +daughters both to seek and to heed the counsel of elders in social +matters. In these days, a grandmother must ask her granddaughter whether +such or such a thing is considered "good form," to which the latter will +often reply, "O dear! no." + + * * * * * + +It is sad that we should carry all the barbarism of our nature into our +views of the divine, and make our form of faith an occasion of ill-will +to others, instead of drawing from it the inspiration of a wide and +comprehensive charity. The world's Christianity is greatly open to this +accusation, in dealing with which we are forced to take account of the +slow rate of human progress. + +A friend lately told me of a pious American, familiar in Hong Kong, who +at the close of his last visit there, took a formal and eternal leave +of one of the principal native merchants with whom he had long been +acquainted. Mr. C---- alluded to his advanced age, and said that it was +almost certain he could never return to China. "We shall not meet again +in this world," he said, "and as you have never embraced the true +religion, I can have no hope of meeting you in a better one." + +I ask whether this was polite, from one sinner to another? + +A stupid, worldly old woman of fashion in one of our large cities once +said of a most exemplary acquaintance, a liberal Christian saint of +thirty years or more ago: "I am very fond of Mrs. S---- but she is a +Unitarian. What a pity we cannot hope to meet in heaven!" The wicked +bystanders had their own view of the reason why this meeting would +appear very improbable. + +What shall we say of the hospitality which in some churches renders each +man and woman the savage guardian of a seat or pew? Is this God's house +to you, when you turn with fury on a stranger who exercises a stranger's +right to its privileges? Whatever may be preached from the pulpit of +such a church, there is not much of heaven in the seats so maintained +and defended. I remember an Episcopal church in one of our large cities +which a modest looking couple entered one Sunday, taking seats in an +unoccupied pew near the pulpit. And presently comes in the plumed head +of the family, followed by its other members. The strangers are warned +to depart, which they do, not without a smile of suppressed amusement. +The church-woman afterwards learned that the persons whom she had turned +out of her pew were the English ambassador and his wife, the +accomplished Lord and Lady Napier. + +St. Paul tells us that in an unknown guest we may entertain an angel +unawares. But I will say that in giving way to such evil impulses, +people entertain a devil unawares. + +Polite religion has to do both with manners and with doctrine. Tolerance +is the external condition of this politeness, but charity is its +interior source. A doctrine which allows and encourages one set of men +to exclude another set from claim to the protection and inspiration of +God is in itself impolite. Christ did not reproach the Jews for holding +their own tenets, but for applying these tenets in a superficial and +narrow spirit, neglecting to practise true devotion and benevolence, and +refusing to learn the providential lessons which the course of time +should have taught them. At this day of the world, we should all be +ready to admit that salvation lies not so much in the prescriptions of +any religion as in the spirit in which these are followed. + +It is the fashion to-day to decry missions. I believe in them greatly. +But a missionary should start with a polite theory concerning the +religion which he hopes to supersede by the introduction of one more +polite. If he studies rightly, he will see that all religions seek after +God, and will imitate the procedure of Paul, who, before instructing the +Athenians in the doctrines of the new religion, was careful to recognize +the fact that they had a religion of their own. + +I wish to speak here of the so-called rudeness of reform; and to say +that I think we should call this roughness rather than rudeness. A true +reformer honors human nature by recognizing in it a higher power than is +shown in its average action. The man or woman who approaches you, urging +upon you a more fervent faith, a more impartial justice, a braver +resolve than you find in your own mind, comes to you really in +reverence, and not in contempt. Such a person sees in you the power and +dignity of manhood or womanhood, of which you, perhaps, have an +insufficient sense. And he will strike and strike until he finds in you +that better nature, that higher sense to which he appeals, and which in +the end is almost sure to respond to such appealing. + +I remember having thought in my youth that the Presbyterian preacher, +John Knox, was probably very impolite in his sermons preached before +poor Queen Mary Stuart. But when we reflect upon the follies which, more +than aught else, wrecked her unhappy life, we may fancy the stern divine +to have seen whither her love of pleasure and ardent temperament would +lead her, and to have striven, to the best of his knowledge and power, +to pluck her as a brand from the burning, and to bring her within the +sober sphere of influence and reflection which might have saved her +kingdom and her life. + +With all its advances, society still keeps some traces of its original +barbarism. I see these traces in the want of respect for labor, where +this want exists, and also in the position which mere Fashion is apt to +assign to teachers in the community. + +That those who must be intellectually looked up to should be socially +looked down upon is, to say the least, very inconsistent. That the +performance of the helpful offices of the household should be held as +degrading to those who perform them is no less so. We must seek the +explanation of these anomalies in the distant past. When the handiwork +of society was performed by slaves, the world's estimate of labor was +naturally lowered. In the feudal and military time, the writer ranked +below the fighter, and the skill of learning below the prowess of arms. +The mind of to-day has only partially outgrown this very rude standard +of judgment. I was asked, some fifteen years ago, in England, by people +of education, whether women teachers ranked in America with ladies or +with working women. I replied: "With ladies, certainly," which seemed to +occasion surprise. + +I remember having heard that a relative of Theodore Parker's wife, who +disliked him, would occasionally taunt him with having kept school. She +said to him one day: "My father always told me to avoid a schoolmaster." +Parker replied: "It is evident that you have." + +I think that as Americans we should all feel an especial interest in the +maintenance of polite feeling in our community. The theory of a +government of the people, by the people, and for the people is in itself +the most polite of theories. The fact that under such a government no +man has a position of absolute inferiority forced upon him for life +ought to free us from mean subserviency on the one hand, and from +haughty and brutal assumption on the other. + +Yet I doubt whether politeness is as much considered in American +education as it ought to be. Perhaps our theory of the freedom and +equality of all men leads some of us to the mistaken conclusion that all +people equally know how to behave themselves, which is far from being +the fact. + +One result of our not being well instructed in the nature of politeness +is that we go to the wrong sources to learn it. People who have been +modestly bred think they shall acquire fine manners by consorting with +the world's great people, and in this way often unlearn what they +already know of good manners, instead of adding to their knowledge. + +Rich Americans seem latterly to have taken on a sort of craze about the +aristocracies of other countries. One form of this craze is the desire +of ambitious parents to marry their daughters to titled individuals +abroad. When we consider that these counts, marquises, and barons +scarcely disguise the fact that the young lady's fortune is the object +of their pursuit, and that the young lady herself is generally aware of +this, we shall not consider marriage under such circumstances a very +polite relation. + +What does make our people polite, then? Partly the inherited blood of +men who would not submit to the rude despotism of old England and old +Europe, and who thought a better state of society worth a voyage in the +_Mayflower_ and a tussle with the wild forest and wilder Indian. Partly, +also, the necessity of the case. As we recognize no absolute social +superiority, no one of us is entirely at liberty to assume airs of +importance which do not belong to him. No matter how selfish we may be, +it will not do for us to act upon the supposition that the comfort of +other people is of less consequence than our own. If we are rude, our +servants will not live with us, our tradespeople will not serve us. + +This is good as far as it goes, but I wish that I could oftener see in +our young people a desire to know what is perfectly and beautifully +polite. And I feel sure that more knowledge in this direction would +save us from the vulgarity of worshipping rank and wealth. + +Who have been the polite spirits of our day? I can mention two of them, +Mr. Longfellow and Mr. Emerson, as persons in whose presence it was +impossible to be rude. But our young people of to-day consider the great +fortunes rather than the great examples. + +In order to be polite, it is important to cultivate polite ways of +thinking. Great social troubles and even crimes grow out of rude and +selfish habits of mind. Let us take the case of the Anarchists who were +executed in Chicago some years ago. Before their actions became wicked, +their thoughts became very impolite. They were men who had to work for +their living. They wanted to be so rich that they should not be under +this necessity. Their mode of reasoning was something like this: "I want +money. Who has got it? The capitalist. What protects him in keeping it? +The laws. Down with the laws, then!" + +He who reasons thus forgets, foolish man, that the laws protect the poor +as well as the rich. The laws compel the capitalist to make roads for +the use of the poor man, and to build schoolhouses for the education of +his children. They make the person of the poor man as sacred as that of +the rich man. They secure to both the enjoyment of the greatest +benefits of civilization. The Anarchist puts all this behind him, and +only reasons that he, being poor, wants to be rich, and will overthrow, +if he can, the barriers which keep him from rushing like a wild beast +upon the rich man and despoiling him of his possessions. + +And this makes me think of that noble man Socrates, whom the Athenians +sentenced to death for impiety, because he taught that there was one +God, while the people about him worshipped many deities. Some of the +friends of this great man made a plan for his escape from prison to a +place of safety. But Socrates refused to go, saying that the laws had +hitherto protected him as they protected other citizens, and that it +would be very ungrateful for him to show them the disrespect of running +away to evade their sentence. He said: "It is better for me to die than +to set the example of disrespect to the laws." How noble were these +sentiments, and how truly polite! + +Whoever brings up his children to be sincere, self-respecting, and +considerate of others brings them up to good manners. Did you ever see +an impolite Quaker? I never did. Yet the Friends are a studiously plain +people, no courtiers nor frequenters of great entertainments. What makes +them polite? The good education and discipline which are handed down +among them from one generation to another. + +The eminent men of our own early society were simple in their way of +living, but when public duty called them abroad to mingle with the +elegant people of the Old World, they did us great credit. Benjamin +Franklin was much admired at the court of Louis XVI. Jay and Jefferson +and Morris and Adams found their manners good enough to content the +highest European society. They were educated men; but besides +book-learning, and above it, they had been bred to have the thoughts +and, more than all, the feelings of gentlemen. + +The assumption of special merit, either by an individual or a class, is +not polite. We notice this fault when some dressy young lady puts on +airs, and struts in fine clothes, or condescends from an elegant +carriage. Elder women show it in hardness and hauteur of countenance, or +in unnecessary patronage. + +But we allow classes of people to assume special merit on false grounds. +It may very easily be shown that it requires more talent and merit to +earn money than to spend it. Yet, by almost common consent of the +fashionable world, those who inherit or marry money are allowed to place +themselves above those who earn it. + +If this is the case so far as men are concerned, much more is it the +case with women. Good society often feels itself obliged to apologize +for a lady who earns money. The fact, however explained, is a badge of +discredit. She could not help it, poor thing! Her father failed, or her +trustee lost the investments made for her. He usually does. So she +has--oh, sad alternative!--to make herself useful. + +Now in America the judgment of the Old World in this respect has come to +be somewhat reversed. We do not like idle inheritors here; and so the +moneyed aristocracy of our country is a tolerably energetic and +industrious body. But in the case of womankind, I could wish to see a +very different standard adopted from that now existing. I could wish +that the fact of an idle and useless life should need apology--not that +of a laborious and useful one. Idleness is a pregnant source of +demoralization to rich women. The hurry and excitement of fashionable +engagements, and the absorbing nature of entirely selfish and useless +pursuits, such as dancing, dress, and flirtation, cannot take the place +of healthful work. Dr. Watts warns us that + + Satan finds some mischief still + For idle hands to do. + +And Tennyson has some noble lines in one of his noblest poems:-- + + I know you, Clara Vere de Vere, + You pine among your halls and towers; + The languid light of your proud eyes + Is wearied of the rolling hours. + In glowing health, with boundless wealth, + But sickening of a vague disease, + You know so ill to deal with time, + You needs must play such pranks as these. + +As I am speaking of England, I will say that some things in the +constitution of English society seem to tend to impoliteness. + +The English are a most powerful and energetic race, with immense +vitality, cruelly divided up in their own country by absolute social +conditions, handed down from generation to generation. So a sense of +superiority, more or less lofty and exaggerated, characterizes the upper +classes, while the lower partly rest in a dogged compliance, partly +indulge the blind instinct of reverence, partly detest and despise those +whom birth and fate have set over them. In England, people assert their +own rank and look down upon that of others all the way from the throne +to the peasant's hut. I asked an English visitor, the other day, what +inferior the lowest man had,--the man at the bottom of the social pile. +I answered him myself: "His wife, of course." + +Where worldliness gives the tone to character, it corrupts the source of +good manners, and the outward polish is purchased by the inward +corruption of the heart. The crucial experiment of character is found in +the transition from modest competency to conspicuous wealth and fashion. +Most of us may desire this; but I should rather say: Dread it. I have +seen such sweetness and beauty impaired by the process, such +relinquishment of the genuine, such gradual adoption of the false and +meretricious! + +Such was a house in which I used to meet all the muses of the earlier +time,--in which economy was elegant; frugality, tasteful and thrifty. My +heart recalls the golden hours passed there, the genial, home +atmosphere, the unaffected music, the easy, brilliant conversation. Time +passes. A or B is the head of a great mercantile house now. I meet him +after a lapse of years. He is always genial, and pities all who are not +so rich as he is. But when I go to his great feast, I pity him. All the +tiresome and antiquated furniture of fashionable society fills his +rooms. Those empty bores whom I remember in my youth, and many new ones +of their kind, float their rich clothing through his rooms. The old +good-hearted greeting is replaced by the distant company bow. The +moderate banquet, whose special dishes used to have the care of the +young hostess, is replaced by a grand confectioner's avalanche, cold, +costly, and comfortless. And I sigh, and go home feeling, as Browning +says, "chilly and grown old." + +This is not one case, but many. And since I have observed this page of +human experience, I say to all whom I love and who are in danger of +becoming very wealthy: Do not, oh! do not be too fashionable. "Love not +the world." + +Most of us know the things men really say to us beneath the disguise of +the things they seem to say. And So-and-So, taking my hand, expresses to +me: "How much more cordial should I be to you if your father's real +estate had not been sold off before the rise." And such another would, +if he could, say: "I am really surprised to see you at this house, and +in such good clothes. Pray have you any income that I don't happen to +know about?" The tax-gatherer is not half so vigilant about people's +worldly goods as these friends are. No matter how they bow and smile, +their real impoliteness everywhere penetrates its thin disguise. + +What is this impoliteness? To what is it shown? To God's image,--the +true manhood and true womanhood, which you may strip or decorate, but +which you cannot destroy. Human values cannot be raised or lowered at +will. "Thou canst not, by taking thought, add one cubit to thy stature." +I derive impoliteness from two sources,--indifference to the divine, and +contempt for the human. + +The king of Wall Street, some little time since, was a man who had risen +from a humble beginning to the eminence of a successful stock-gambler. +He had been fortunate and perhaps skilful in his play, and was supposed +to be possessed of immense wealth. Immediately, every door was opened to +him. No assemblage was perfect without him. Every designing mother +wanted him for her son-in-law. One unlucky throw overturned all this. +Down went his fortune; down, his eminence. No more bowing and cringing +and smiling now. No more plotting against his celibacy--he was welcome +to it. No more burthensome hospitality. He was dropped as coldly and +selfishly as he was taken up,--elbowed aside, left out in the cold. When +I heard of all this, I said: "Is it ever necessary in these times to +preach about the meanness of the great world?" + +Let us, in our new world, lay aside altogether the theory of human +superiority as conferred by special birth or fortune. Let us recognize +in all people human right, capacity, and dignity. + +Having adopted this equal human platform, and with it the persuasion +that the society of good people is always good society, let us organize +our circles by real tastes and sympathies. Those who love art can follow +it together; those who love business, and science, and theology, and +belles-lettres, can group themselves harmoniously around the object +which especially attracts them. + +But people shall, in this new order, seek to fill their own place as +they find it. No crowding up or down, or in or out. A quiet reference to +the standard of education and to the teachings of Nature will show each +one where he belongs. Religion shall show the supreme source of power +and of wisdom near to all who look for it. And this final unity of the +religious sense shall knit together the happy human variety into one +great complex interest, one steadfast faith, one harmonious effort. + +The present essay, I must say, was written in great part for this very +society which, assuming to take the lead in social attainment, often +falls lamentably short of its promise. But let us enlarge the ground of +our remarks by a more general view of American society. + +I have travelled in this country North and South, East and West. I have +seen many varieties of our national life. I think that I have seen +everywhere the capacity for social enjoyment. In many places, I have +found the notion of co-operation for good ends, which is a most +important element in any society. What I have seen makes me think that +we Americans start from a vantage-ground compared with other nations. As +mere social units, we are ranked higher than Britons or continental +Europeans. + +This higher estimation begins early in life. Every child in this country +is considered worth educating. The State will rescue the child of the +pauper or criminal from the ignorance which has been a factor in the +condition of its parents. Even the idiot has a school provided for him, +in which he may receive such training as he can profit by. This general +education starts us on a pretty high level. We have, no doubt, all the +faults of our human nature, but we know, too, how and why these should +be avoided. + +Then the great freedom of outlook which our institutions give us is in +our favor. We need call no man Master. We can pursue the highest aims, +aspire to the noblest distinctions. We have no excuse for contenting +ourselves with the paltry objects and illusory ambitions which play so +large a part in Old-World society. + +The world grows better and not worse, but it does not grow better +everywhere all the time. Wherever human effort to a given end is +intermitted, society does not attain that end, and is in danger of +gradually losing it from view, and thus of suffering an unconscious +deterioration which it may become difficult to retrieve. I do not think +that the manners of so-called polite society to-day are quite so polite +as they were in my youth. Young women of fashion seem to me to have lost +in dignity of character and in general tone and culture. Young men of +fashion seem to regard the young ladies with less esteem and deference, +and a general cheap and easy standard of manners is the result. + +On the other hand, outside this charmed circle of fashion, I find the +tone of taste and culture much higher than I remember it to have been in +my youth. I find women leading nobler and better lives, filling larger +and higher places, enjoying the upper air of thought where they used to +rest upon the very soil of domestic care and detail. So the community +gains, although one class loses,--and that, remember, the class which +assumes to give to the rest the standard of taste. + +Instead of dwelling too much upon the faults of our neighbors, let us +ask whether we are not, one and all of us, under sacred obligations to +carry our race onward toward a nobler social ideal. In Old-World +countries, people lack room for new ideas. The individual who would +introduce and establish these may be imprisoned, or sent to Siberia, or +may suffer, at the least, a social ostracism which is a sort of +martyrdom. + +Here we have room enough; we cannot excuse ourselves on that ground. And +we have strength enough--we, the people. Let us only have the _royal_ +will which good Mr. Whittier has celebrated in "Barbara Frietchie," and +we shall be able, by a resolute and persevering effort, to place our +civilization where no lingering trace of barbarism shall deform and +disgrace it. + + + + +Paris. + + +AN old woman's tale will always begin with a reminiscence of some period +more or less remote. + +In accordance with this law of nature, I find that I cannot begin to +speak of Paris without going back to the projection which the fashions +and manners of that ancient capital were able to cast upon my own native +city of New York. My recollections of the latter reach back, let me say, +to the year 1826. I was then seven years old; and, beginning to take +notice of things around me, I saw the social eminences of the day lit up +with the far-off splendors of Parisian taste. + +To speak French with ease was, in those days, considered the most +desirable of accomplishments. The elegance of French manners was +commended in all polite circles. The services of General Lafayette were +held up to children as deserving their lifelong remembrance and +gratitude. + +But the culmination of the _Gallomania_ was seen in the millinery of the +period; and I must confess that my earliest views of this were enjoyed +within the precincts of a certain Episcopal sanctuary which then stood +first upon the dress-list, and, like Jove among the gods, without a +second. This establishment retained its pre-eminence of toilet for more +than thirty years after the time of which I speak, and perhaps does so +still. I have now lived so long in Boston that I should be obliged to +consult New York authorities if I wished to be able to say decidedly +whether the well-known Grace Church of that city still deserves to be +called "The Church of the Holy Milliner." A little child's fancy +naturally ran riot in a field of bonnets so splendid and showy, and, +however admonished to listen to the minister, I am afraid that a raid +upon the flowers and plumes so lavishly displayed before me would have +offered more attractions to my tender mind than any itinerary of the +celestial journey of which I should have been likely to hear in that +place. + +The French dancing-master of that period taught us gambols and +flourishes long since banished from the domain of social decorum. Being +light and alert, I followed his prescriptions with joy, and learned with +patience the lessons set me by the French mistress, who, while leading +us through Florian's tales and La Fontaine's fables, did not forget to +impress upon us her conviction that to be French was to be virtuous, but +to be Parisian was to be perfect. + +Let me now pass on to the years of my youngladyhood, when New York +reflected Paris on a larger scale. The distinguished people of the +society to which my youth was related either had been to Paris or +expected to go there very shortly. Our circles were sometimes +electrified by the appearance of a well-dressed and perfumed stranger, +wearing the moustache which was then strictly contraband in the New York +business world, and talking of manners and customs widely different from +our own. + +These elegant gentlemen were sometimes adventurers in pursuit of a rich +wife, sometimes intelligent and well-informed travellers, and sometimes +the agents of some foreign banking-house, for the drummer was not yet +invented. If they were furnished with satisfactory credentials, the +fathers of Gotham introduced them into their domestic circle, usually +warning their daughters never to think of them as husbands,--a warning +which, naturally, would sometimes defeat its own object. + +I must here be allowed to say one word concerning the French novel, +which, since that time, has here and there affected the tone of our +society. In the days of which I speak, brothers who returned from Europe +brought with them the romances of Balzac and Victor Hugo, which their +sisters surreptitiously read. We heard also with a sort of terror of +George Sand, the evil woman, who wrote such somnambulic books. We +pictured to ourselves the wicked delight of reading them; and presently +some friend confidentially lent us the forbidden volumes, which our +Puritan nurture and habit of life did much to render harmless and not +quite clear in meaning. + +I should say that the works of Balzac, George Sand, Victor Hugo, and +Eugene Sue had each exerted an appreciable influence upon the social +atmosphere of this country. Of these four, Balzac was the least popular, +having long been known only to readers acquainted with the French +language. George Sand first became widely recognized through her +"Consuelo." Victor Hugo's popular fame dates from "Les Miserables," and +"The Mysteries of Paris" opened the doors to Eugene Sue, and _Rigolette_ +and _Fleur de Marie_, new types of character to most of us, appeared +upon the stage. + +Still nearer was Paris brought to us by Carlyle's work on the French +Revolution, which, falling like a compact and burning coal upon the +American imagination, reddened the sober twilight of our firesides with +the burning passion and frenzy of that great drama of enthusiasm and +revenge. And here, lest I should entirely reverse the order in which +historic things should be spoken of, let me dismiss those early +memories, and, having shown you something of the far-reaching influence +of the city, let me speak of it from nearer sight and study. + +History must come first. I find it written in a certain record that +Paris, in the time of Julius Caesar, was a collection of huts built upon +an island in the Seine, and bearing the name of Lutetia. Its +inhabitants were called Parisii, which was the name of their tribe, +supposed to be an offshoot from the Belgae. I do not know whether this +primitive settlement lay within the bounds of Gallia _Bracchiata_; but, +if it did, how natural that to the other indebtedness of polite life, +that of the trouser should be added! The city still possesses some +interesting remains of the Roman period. The Hotel Cluny is also called +"The Hotel of the Baths," and whoever visits it may at the same time +explore a massive ruin which is said to have covered beneath its roof +the baths of the Emperor Julian, surnamed "The Apostate." + +A rapid panoramic retrospect will give us briefly the leading points of +the city's many periods of interest. First must be named Paris of the +early saints: Saint Genevieve, who saved it from the hands of Attila; +Saint Denis, famous for having walked several miles after his head was +cut off, carrying that deposed member under his arm. + +A well-known French proverb was suggested some time in the last century +by the relation of this mediaeval miracle. The celebrated Madame +Dudeffant, a wit and beauty of Horace Walpole's time, was told one day +that the Archbishop of Paris had said that every one knew that Saint +Denis had walked some distance after his decapitation, but that few +people were aware that he had walked several miles on that occasion. +Madame Dudeffant said, in reply: "Indeed, in such a case, it is the +first step only that costs,"--_"Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute."_ + +Paris of the sleepy Merovingians,--do-nothing kings, a race made to be +kicked out, and fulfilling its destiny,--Paris of Hugh Capet, in whose +reign were laid the foundations of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Paris of +1176, whereof the old chronicler, John of Salisbury, writes: "When I saw +the abundance of provisions, the gaiety of the people, the good +condition of the clergy, the majesty and glory of all the church, the +diverse occupations of men admitted to the study of philosophy, I seemed +to see that Jacob's ladder whose summit reached heaven, and on which the +angels ascended and descended. I must confess that truly the Lord was in +this place. This passage also of a poet came to my mind: 'Happy is the +man whose exile is to this place.'" + +This suggests the familiar saying of our own time,--that good +Bostonians, when they die, go to Paris. + +Paris of Louis XI., he of the strong hand, the stony heart, the +superstitious mind. Scott has seized the features of the time and of the +man in his novel of "Quentin Durward." His hat, full of leaden images of +saints, his cunning and pitiless diplomacy, and the personages of his +brilliant court are brought vividly before us by the magician of the +North. + +Paris of Louis XIII., and its Richelieu live for us in Bulwer's vivid +play, in which I have often seen the fine impersonation of Edwin Booth. + +Paris of Louis XIV., the handsome young king, the idol, the absolute +sovereign, who said: _"L'etat, c'est moi;"_ the old man before whom +Madame de Maintenon is advised to say her prayers, in order to make upon +his mind a serious impression; the revoker of the edict of Nantes; he +who tried to extinguish Dutch freedom with French blood; a god in his +own time, a figure now faded, pompous, self-adoring. + +Paris of Louis XV., the reign of license, the _Parc aux cerfs_, the +period of the courtesan, Madame de Pompadour, and a host of rivals and +successors,--a hateful type of womanhood, justly odious and gladly +forgotten. + +Paris of Louis XVI., the days of progress and of good intentions; the +deficit, the ministry of Neckar, the states general, Mirabeau, +Lafayette, Robespierre, the fall of the monarch, the reign of terror; +the guillotine in permanence, science, virtue, every distinction +supplying its victims. + +Paris of Napoleon I.; a whiff of grape-shot that silences the last +grumblings of the Revolution; the mighty marches, the strategy of +Ulysses, the labors of Hercules, the glory of Jupiter, ending in the +fate of Prometheus. + +Paris of the returned Bourbons, Charles X., the Duc de Berri, the +Duchess d'Angouleme; Paris of the Orleans dynasty, civil, civic, free, +witty; wise here, and wicked there; the Mecca of students in all +sciences; a region problematic to parents, who fear its vices and +expense, but who desire its opportunities and elegance for their sons. +This was in the days in which a visit to Paris was the _ne plus ultra_ +of what parents could do to forward a son's studies, or perfect a +daughter's accomplishments. + +Having made my connections in this breathless review, I must return to +speak of two modern works of art which treat of matters upon which my +haste did not allow me, in the first instance, to dwell. + +The first of these is Victor Hugo's picture of mediaeval Paris, given in +his famous romance entitled "Notre Dame de Paris." This remarkable novel +preserves valuable details of the architecture of the ancient cathedral +from which it takes its name. It paints the society of the time in +gloomy colors. The clergy are corrupt, the soldiery licentious, the +people forlorn and friendless. Here is a brief outline of the story. The +beautiful gipsy, _Esmeralda_, dances and twirls her tambourine in the +public streets. Her companion is a little goat, which she has taught to +spell her lover's name, by putting together the letters which compose +it. This lover is _Phoebus_, captain of the guard. _Claude Frollo_, +the cunning, wicked priest of the period, has cast his evil eye upon the +girl. He manages to surprise her when alone with her lover, and stabs +the latter so as to endanger his life. A hideous dwarf, named +_Quasimodo_, also loves _Esmeralda_, with humble, faithful affection. As +the story develops, he turns out to have been the changeling laid in the +place of the lovely girl-infant whom gipsies stole from her cradle. +_Esmeralda_ finds her distracted parent, but only to be torn from her +arms again. The priest, _Claude Frollo_, foiled in his unlawful passion, +stirs up the wrath of the populace against _Esmeralda_, accusing her of +sorcery. She is seized by the mob, and hanged in the public street. The +narrative is powerful and graphic, but it shows the disease of Victor +Hugo's mind,--a morbid imagination which heightens the color of human +crimes in order to give a melodramatic brilliancy to the virtue which +contrasts with them. According to his view, suffering through the fault +of others is necessarily the lot of all good people. French romance has +in it much of this despair of the cause of virtue. It springs, however +remotely, from the dark days of absolutism, whose bitter secrets were +masked over by the frolic fancy of the people who invented the joyous +science of minstrelsy. + +The other work which I have now in mind is Meyerbeer's opera of "The +Huguenots," which I mention here because it brings so vividly to mind +the features of another period in the history of Paris. It represents, +as an opera may, the frightful days in which a king's hospitality was +made a trap for the wholesale butchery of as many Protestants as could +be lured within the walls of Paris,--the massacre which bears the name +of Saint Bartholomew. Nobles and leaders were shot down in the streets, +or murdered in their beds, while the hollow phrases of the royal favor +still rang in their ears. I have seen, near the church of St. Germain +l'Auxerois, the palace window from which the kerchief of Catherine de +Medici gave the signal for the fatal onslaught. "Do you not believe my +word?" asked the Queen Mother one day of the English ambassador. "No, by +Saint Bartholomew, Madam," was the sturdy reply. + +Meyerbeer's opera is truly a Protestant work of art, vigorous and noble. +Through all the intensity of its dramatic situations runs the grand +choral of Luther:-- + + A mighty fortress is our God. + +So true faith holds its own, and sails its silver boat upon the bloody +sea of martyrdom. + +Am I obliged to have recourse to a novel and an opera in order to bring +before your eyes a vision of Paris in those distant ages? Such are our +indebtednesses to art and literature. And here I must again mention, as +a great master in both of these, Thomas Carlyle, who has given us so +vivid and graphic a picture of the Revolution in France, which followed +so nearly upon our own War of Independence. + +I, a grandmother of to-day, recall the impression which this great +conflict had made upon the grandparents of my childhood. Most wicked and +cruel did they esteem it, in all of its aspects. To people of our day, +it appears the inevitable crisis of a most malignant state of national +disease. Much of political quackery was swept away forever, one may +hope, by its virulent outbreak. No half-way nostrums, no outside +tinkering, answered for this fiery patient, whose fever set the whole +continent of Europe in a blaze. War itself was gentle in comparison with +the acts of its savage delirium, in which the vengeance of defrauded +ages fell upon victims most of whom were innocent of personal offence. +The reign of humanitarian theory led strangely to a period of military +predominance which has had no parallel since the days of Alexander of +Macedon. Then War itself died of exhaustion. The stupor of reaction +quenched the dream of civil and religious liberty. But the patient +stirred again in 1830 and 1848, and the dream, scarcely yet realized, +became more and more the settled purpose of his heart. + +Now the government in 1830 was manifestly in the wrong. The stupid old +Bourbon Prince, Charles X., had learned nothing, and forgotten nothing, +but the French people had learned and unlearned many things. They had +learned the illusion of Monarchy, the corruption of the demagogue, the +futility of the sentimentalist. The impotence of the aristocracy was one +of the lessons of the day. Was ever a people more rapidly educated? Take +the _canaille_ of the pre-revolutionary history, and the _peuple_ of the +Revolution. What a contrast! It is the lion asleep in the toils, and the +lion awake, and turning upon his captors in fury. The French people have +never gone back to what they were before that great outbreak. The +mighty, volcanic heart has made its pulsations felt through all +assumptions, through all restraints. Yet the French people are easily +tricked. They are easily led to receive pedantry for education, bigotry +for religion, constraint for order, and successful pretension for glory. + +The Revolution of 1848 was justified in all but its method. And method +has often been the weak point in French politics. Methods are handed +down more surely than ideas are inherited. The violent measures whose +record forms so large a part of French history have left behind them a +belief in military, rather than in moral, action. The _coup d'etat_ +would seem by its name to be a French invention; but it is a method +abhorred of Justice. Justice recognizes two sides, and gives ear to +both. Passion sees but one, and blots out in blood the representatives +of the other. The Revolution of 1848 was the rather premature explosion +of a wide and subtle conspiracy. But if the conflicting opinions and +interests then current could have encountered each other, as in England +or America, in open daylight, trusting only in the weapons of reason, a +very different result would have been achieved. Do not conspire, is one +of the lessons which Paris teaches by her history. Do not say, nor teach +others to say: "If we cannot have our way, we will have your life." Say, +rather: "Let both sides state their case, and plead their cause, and let +the weight of Reason decide which shall prevail." + + * * * * * + +Paris as I first knew it, half a century ago, was a place imposing for +its good taste and good manners. A stranger passing through it with ever +so little delay would necessarily have been impressed with the general +intelligence, and with the aesthetic invention and nicety which, more +than anything else, have given the city its social and commercial +prestige. + +In those days, Chateaubriand and Madame Recamier were still alive. The +traditions of society were polite. The theatres were vivacious schools +of morality. The salon was still an institution. This was not what we +should call a party, but the habitual meeting of friends in a friend's +house,--a good institution, if kept up in a good spirit. + +The natural sociability of the French made the salon an easy and natural +thing for them. Salons were of all sorts. Some shone in true glory; some +disguised evil purposes and passions with artificial graces. I think the +institution of the salon indigenous to Paris, although it has by no +means stopped there. + +The great point in administering a salon is to do it sincerely. Where +the children are put out of the way, the old friends neglected, the rich +courted, and celebrities impaled and exhibited, the institution is +demoralizing, and answers no end of permanent good. A friendly house, +that opens its doors as often and as widely as the time and fortune of +its inmates can afford, is a boon and blessing to many people. + +I suppose that the French salons were of both sorts. Sydney Smith speaks +of a certain historical set of Parisian women who dealt very lightly +with the Decalogue, but who, on the other hand, gave very pleasant +little suppers. French society, no doubt, afforded many occasions of +this sort, but far different were the meetings in which the literary +world of Paris listened to the unpublished memoirs of Chateaubriand; far +different was the throng that gathered, twice a day, around the hearth +of the wise and devout Madame Swetchine. + +In the days just mentioned, I passed through Paris, returning from my +bridal journey, which had carried me to Rome. I was eager to explore +every corner of the enchanted region. What I did see, I have never +forgotten,--the brilliant shops, the tempting _cafes_, the varied and +entertaining theatres. I attended a _seance_ of the Chamber of Deputies, +a lecture of Edgar de Quinet, and one of Philarete Charles. De Quinet's +lecture was given at the Sorbonne. I remember of it only the enthusiasm +of the audience,--the faces at once fiery and thoughtful, the occasional +cries of "De Quinet," when any passage particularly stirred the feelings +of the auditors. Of Philarete Charles, I remember that his theme was +"English Literature," and that at the close of his lecture he took +occasion to reprobate the whole literary world of America. The _bon +homme_ Franklin, he said, had outwitted the French Court. The country of +Franklin was utterly without interest from an intellectual point of +view. "When," said he, "we take into account the late lamentable +disorders in New York (some small election riot, in 1844), we shall +agree upon the low state of American civilization and the small +prospect of good held out by the republic." He was unaware, of course, +that Americans were among his hearers; but a certain tidal wave of anger +arose in my heart, and had not my graver companion held me down, I +should have arisen then, as I certainly should now, to say: "Monsieur +Philarete Charles, you are uttering falsehoods." + +In those days, I first saw Rachel, then in the full affluence of her +genius. The trenchant manner, the statuesque drapery, the +chain-lightning effects, were much as they were afterwards seen in this +country. But when I saw her, seven years after that first time, in +London, I thought that her unrivalled powers had bloomed to a still +fuller perfection than before. Of finest clay, thrilled by womanly +passion and tempered by womanly tact, we need not remember the faults of +the person in the perfection of the artist. Alfred de Musset has left a +charming account of a supper at her house. I certainly have never seen +on the boards a tragic conception equal to hers. Ristori, able as she +was, seemed to me to fall short in Rachel's great parts, if we except +the last scene of "Marie Stuart," in which the Christian woman, +following the crucifix to her death, showed a sense of its value which +the Jewish woman could neither feel nor counterfeit. + +The gallery of the Louvre recalls the finest palaces of Italy, and +equals, in value and interest, any gallery in the world. Venice is far +richer in Titian's pictures, and Rome and Florence keep the greatest +works of Raphael and Michael Angelo. To understand Quintin Matsys and +Rubens, you must go to Antwerp, where their finest productions remain. +But the Louvre has an unsurpassed variety and interest, and exhibits not +a few of the chief treasures of ancient and modern art. Among these are +some of the masterpieces of Titian, Raphael, and Leonardo da Vinci, the +Conception of Murillo, Paul Veronese's great picture of the marriage at +Cana in Galilee, and the ever-famous Venus of Milo. + +In one of the principal galleries of Venice, I was once shown a large +picture by the French artist David. I do not remember much about its +merits, but, on asking how it came there, I was told that its place had +formerly been occupied by a famous picture by Paul Veronese. Napoleon +I., it will be remembered, robbed the galleries of Italy of many of +their finest pictures. After his downfall, most of these stolen +treasures were restored to their rightful owners; but the French never +gave up the Paul Veronese picture, which was this very one that now +hangs in the Louvre, where its vivid coloring and rich grouping look +like a piece of Venice, bright and glorious like herself. + +The student of art, returning from Italy, is possessed with the mediaeval +gloom and glory which there have filled his eyes and his imagination. +With a sigh, looking toward our Western world, so rich in action, so +poor as yet in art, he pauses here in surprise, to view a cosmopolitan +palace of her splendors. It consoles him to think that the Beautiful has +made so brave a stand upon the nearer borders of the Seine. Encouraged +by the noble record of French achievement, he carries with him across +the ocean the traditions of Jerome, of Rosa Bonheur, of Horace Vernet. + + * * * * * + +In historical monuments, Paris is rich indeed. The oldest of these that +I remember was the Temple,--the ancient stronghold of the Knights +Templar, who were cruelly extirpated in the year 1307. It was a large, +circular building, occupied, when I visited it, as a place for the sale +of second-hand commodities. I remember making purchases of lace within +its walls which were nearly black with age. You will remember that Louis +XVI. and his family were confined here for some time, and that here took +place the sad parting between the King and the dear ones he was never to +see again. I will subjoin a brief extract from the diary of my +grandfather, Col. Samuel Ward, of the Revolutionary War, who was in +Paris at the time of the King's execution:-- + + _January 17, 1792._ The Convention up all night upon the question + of the King's sentence. At eleven this night the sentence of death + was pronounced,--three hundred and sixty-six for death; three + hundred and nineteen for seclusion or banishment; thirty-six + various; majority of five absolute. The King desired an appeal to + be made to the people, which was not allowed. Thus the Convention + have been the accusers, the judges, and will be the executors of + their own sentence. This will cause a great degree of astonishment + in America, where the departments are so well divided that the + judges have power to break all acts of the Legislature interfering + with the exercise of their office. + + _January 20._ The fate of the King disturbs everybody. + + _January 21._ I had engaged to pass this day, which is one of + horror, at Versailles, with Mr. Morris. The King was beheaded at + eleven o'clock. Guards at an early hour took possession of the + Place Louis XV., and were posted at each avenue. The most profound + stillness prevailed. Those who had feeling lamented in secret in + their houses, or had left town. Others showed the same levity and + barbarous indifference as on former occasions. Hitchborn, + Henderson, and Johnson went to see the execution, for which, as an + American, I was sorry. The King desired to speak: he had only time + to say he was innocent, and forgave his enemies. He behaved with + the fortitude of a martyr. Santerre ordered the executioner to + dispatch. + +Louis Napoleon ordered the destruction of this venerable monument of +antiquity, and did much else to efface the landmarks of the ancient +Paris, and to give his elegant capital the air of a city entirely +modern. + +The history of the Bastile has been published in many volumes, some of +which I have read. It was the convenient dark closet of the French +nursery. Whoever gave trouble to the Government or to any of its +creatures was liable to be set away here without trial or resource. One +prisoner confined in it escaped by patiently unravelling his shirts and +drawers of silk, and twisting them into a thick cord, by means of which +he reached the moat, and so passed beyond bounds. + +An historical personage, whose name is unknown, passed many years in +this sad place, wearing an iron mask, which no official ever saw +removed. He is supposed by some to have been a twin brother of the King, +Louis XIV.; so we see that, although it might seem a piece of good +fortune to be born so near the crown, it might also prove to be the +greatest of misfortunes. Think what must have been the life of that +captive--how blank, weary, and indignant! + +When the Bastile was destroyed, a prisoner was found who had suffered so +severely from the cold and damp of its dungeons that his lips had split +completely open, leaving his teeth exposed. Carlyle describes the +commandant of the fortress carried along in the hands of an infuriated +mob, crying out with piteous supplication: "O friends, kill me quick!" +The fury was indeed natural, but better resource against tyranny had +been the calm, strong will and deliberate judgment. It is little to kill +the tyrant and destroy his tools. We must study to find out what +qualities in the ruler and the ruled make tyranny possible, and then +defeat it, once and forever. + +The hospital of the _Invalides_ was built by Louis XIV., as a refuge for +disabled soldiers. This large edifice forms a hollow square, and is +famous for its dome,--one of the four real domes of the world, the +others being the dome of St. Sophia, in Constantinople; that of St. +Peter's, in Rome; and the grand dome of our own Capitol, in Washington. + +I have paid several visits to this interesting establishment, with long +intervals between. When I first saw it, fifty years ago, there were many +of Napoleon's old soldiers within its walls. On one occasion, one of +these old men showed us with some pride the toy fortifications which he +had built, guarded by toy soldiers. "There is the bridge of Lodi," he +said, and pointing to a little wooden figure, "there stands the +Emperor." At this time, the remains of the first Napoleon slumbered in +St. Helena. + +I saw the monument complete in 1867. It had then been open long to the +public. The marble floor and steps around the tomb of the first Napoleon +were literally carpeted with wreaths and garlands. The brothers of the +great man lay around him, in sarcophagi of costliest marble, their names +recorded not as Bonapartes, but as Napoleons. A dreary echo may have +penetrated even to these dead ears in 1870, when the column of the Place +Vendome fell, with the well-known statue for which it was only a +pedestal, and when the third Napoleon took his flight, repudiated and +detested. + +But to return. In 1851 I again saw Paris. The _coup d'etat_ had not +then fallen. Louis Napoleon was still President, and already unpopular. +Murmurs were heard of his inevitable defeat in the election which was +already in men's minds. Louis Philippe was an exile in Scotland. While I +was yet in Paris, the ex-King died; but the announcement produced little +or no sensation in his ancient capital. + +A process was then going on of substituting asphaltum pavements for the +broad, flat paving-stones which had proved so available in former +barricades. The President, perhaps, had coming exigencies in view. The +people looked on in rather sullen astonishment. Not long after this, I +found myself at Versailles on a day set apart for a visit from the +President and his suite. The great fountains were advertised to play in +honor of the occasion. From hall to hall of the immense palace we +followed, at a self-respecting distance, the sober _cortege_ of the +President. A middle-sized, middle-aged man, he appeared to us. + +The tail of this comet was not then visible, and the star itself +exhibited but moderate dimensions. The corrupting influence of +absolutism had not yet penetrated the tissues of popular life. The +theatres were still loyal to decency and good taste. Manners and dress +were modest; intemperance was rarely seen. + +A different Paris I saw in 1867. The dragon's teeth had been sown and +were ripening. The things which were Caesar's had made little account of +the things which were God's. A blight had fallen upon men and women. The +generation seemed to have at once less self-respect and less politeness +than those which I had formerly known. The city had been greatly +modernized, perhaps embellished, but much of its historic interest had +disappeared. The theatres were licentious. Friends said: "Go, but do not +take your daughters." The drivers of public carriages were often +intoxicated. + +The great Exposition of that year had drawn together an immense crowd +from all parts of the world. Among its marvels, my recollection dwells +most upon the gallery of French paintings, in which I stood more than +once before a full-length portrait of the then Emperor. I looked into +the face which seemed to say: "I have succeeded. What has any one to say +about it?" And I pondered the slow movements of that heavenly Justice +whose infallible decrees are not to be evaded. In this same gallery was +that sitting statue of the dying Napoleon which has since become so +familiar to the world of art. Crowns of immortelles always lay at the +feet of this statue. And I, in my mind, compared the statue and the +picture,--the great failure and the great success. But in Bismarck's +mind, even then, the despoiling of France was predetermined. + +What lessons shall we learn from this imperfect sketch of Paris? What +other city has figured so largely in literature? None that I know of, +not even Rome and Athens. The young French writers of our time make a +sketch of some corner of Parisian life, and it becomes a novel. + +French history in modern times is largely the history of Paris. The +modern saying has been that Paris was France. But we shall say: It is +not. Had Paris given a truer representation to France, she might have +avoided many long agonies and acute crises. + +It is because Paris has forced her representation upon France that +Absolutism and Intelligence, the two deadly foes, have fought out their +fiercest battles on the genial soil which seems never to have been +allowed to bear its noblest fruits. The tendency to centralization, with +which the French have been so justly reproached, may or may not be +inveterate in them as a people. If it is so, the tendency of modern +times, which is mostly in the contrary direction, would lessen the +social and political importance of France as surely, if not as swiftly, +as Bismarck's mulcting and mutilation. + +The organizations which result from centralization are naturally +despotic and, in so far, demoralizing. Individuals, having no recognized +representation, and being debarred the natural resource of legitimate +association, show their devotion to progress and their zeal for +improvement either in passionate and melancholy appeals or in secret +manoeuvrings. The tendency of these methods is to chronic fear on the +one hand and disaffection on the other, and to deep conspiracies and +sudden seditions which astonish the world, but which have in them +nothing astonishing for the student of human nature. + +So those who love France should implore her to lay aside her quick +susceptibilities and irritable enthusiasms, and to study out the secret +of her own shortcomings. How is it that one of the most intelligent +nations of the world was, twenty years ago, one of the least instructed? +How is it that a warm-blooded, affectionate race generates such +atrocious social heartlessness? How was it that the nation which was the +apostle of freedom in 1848 kept Rome for twenty years in bondage? How is +it that the Jesuit, after long exile, has been reenstalled in its midst +with prestige and power? How is it, in so brilliant and liberal a +society, that the successors of Henri IV. and Sully are yet to be found? + +Perhaps the reason for some of these things lay in the treason of this +same Henri IV. He was a Protestant at heart, and put on the Catholic +cloak in order to wear the crown. "The kingdom of France," said he, or +one of his admirers, "is well worth hearing a mass or two." "The kingdom +of the world," said Christ, "is a small thing for a man to gain in +exchange for the kingdom of his own honest soul." Henri IV. made this +bad bargain for himself and for France. He did it, doubtless, in view of +the good his reign might bring to the distracted country. But he had +better have given her the example, sole and illustrious, of the most +brilliant man of the time putting by its most brilliant temptation, and +taking his seat low on the ground with those whose hard-earned glory it +is to perish for conscience's sake. + +But the great King is dead, long since, and his true legacy--his +wonderful scheme of European liberation and pacification--has only been +represented by a little newspaper, edited in Paris, but published in +Geneva, and called _The United States of Europe_. + +So our word to France is: Try to solve the problem of modern Europe with +the great word which Henri IV. said, in a whisper, to his other self, +the minister Sully. Learn that social forces are balanced first by being +allowed to exist. Mutilation is useless in a world in which God +continues to be the Creator. Every babe that he sends into the world +brings with it a protest against absolutism. The babe, the nation, may +be robbed of its birthright; but God sends the protest still. And France +did terrible wrong to the protest of her own humanity when she suffered +her Protestant right hand to be cut off, and a great part of her most +valuable population to submit to the alternative of exile or apostasy. + +So mad an act as this does not stand on the record of modern times. The +apostate has no spiritual country; the exile has no geographical +country. The men who are faithful to their religious convictions are +faithful to their patriotic duties. What a premium was set upon +falsehood, what a price upon faith, when all who held the supremacy of +conscience a higher fact than the supremacy of Rome were told to +renounce this confession or to depart! + + * * * * * + +If Paris gives to our mind some of the most brilliant pictures +imaginable, she also gives us some of the most dismal. While her +drawing-rooms were light and elegant, her streets were dark and wicked. +Among her hungry and ignorant populace, Crime planted its bitter seeds +and ripened its bloody crop. Police annals show us that Eugene Sue has +not exaggerated the truth in his portraits of the vicious population of +the great city. London has its hideous dens of vice, but Paris has, too, +its wicked institutions. + +Its greatest offences, upon which I can only touch, regard the relations +between men and women. Its police regulations bearing upon this point +are dishonoring to any Christian community. Its social tone in this +respect is scarcely better. Men who have the dress and appearance of +gentlemen will show great insolence to a lady who dares to walk alone, +however modestly. Marriage is still a matter of bargain and interest, +and the modes of conduct which set its obligations at naught are more +open and recognized here than elsewhere. The city would seem, indeed, to +be the great market for that host of elegant rebels against virtue who +are willing to be admired without being respected, and who, with +splendid clothes and poor and mean characteristics, are technically +called the _demi-monde_, the half-world of Paris. + +The corruption of young men and young women which this state of things +at once recognizes and fosters is such as no state can endure without +grievous loss of its manhood and womanhood. The Turks knew their power +when they could compel from the Greeks the tribute of their children, to +be trained as Turks, not as Christians. Must not the Spirit of evil in +like manner exult at his hold upon the French nation, when it allows him +to enslave its youth so largely, consoling itself for the same with a +shrug at the inevitable nature of human folly, or with some witty saying +which will be at once acknowledgment of and excuse for what cannot be +justified? + +Gambling has been one of the crying vices of the French metropolis, and +the "hells" of Paris were familiarly spoken of in my youth. These were +the gambling-houses, in that day among the most brilliant and ruinous of +their kind. Government has since then interfered to abolish them. Still, +I suppose that much money is lost and won at play in Paris. From this +and other irregularities, many suicides result. One sees in numerous +places in Paris, particularly near the river, placards announcing "help +to the drowned and asphyxiated," a plunge into the Seine, and a sitting +with a pan of charcoal being the favorite methods of self-destruction. +All have heard of the Morgue, a building in which, every day, the +lifeless bodies found in the river are exposed upon marble slabs, in +order that the friends of the dead--if they have any--may recognize and +claim them. I believe that this sad place is rarely without its +appropriate occupants. + + * * * * * + +Through the kindness of our minister, I was able, some years since, to +attend more than one session of the French Parliament. This body, like +our own Congress, consists of two houses. An outsider does not see any +difference of demeanor between these two. An American visiting either +the French Senate or the Chamber of Deputies will be surprised at the +noise and excitement which prevail. The presiding officer agitates his +bell again and again, to no purpose. He constantly cries, in a piteous +tone: "Gentlemen, a little silence, if you please." In the Senate, one +of the ushers with great pride pointed out to me Victor Hugo in his +seat. + +I have seen this venerable man of letters several times,--once in his +own house, and once at a congress of literary people in Paris, where, as +president of the congress, he made the opening address. This he read +from a manuscript, in a sonorous voice, and with much dignity of manner. +He was heard with great interest, and was interrupted by frequent +applause. + +A number of invitations were given for this first meeting of the +literary congress, which was held in one of the largest theatres of the +city. I had been fortunate enough to receive one of these cards, but +upon seeking for admission to the subsequent sittings of the congress, I +was told that no ladies were admitted to them. So you see that Lucy +Stone's favorite assertion that "women are people" does not hold good +everywhere. + +An esteemed Parisian friend had offered me an introduction to Victor +Hugo, and the great man had signified his willingness to receive a visit +from me. On the evening appointed for this visit, I called at his house, +accompanied by my daughter. We were first shown into an anteroom, and +presently into a small drawing-room, of which the walls and furniture +were covered with a striped satin material, in whose colors red +predominated. The venerable viscount kissed my hand and that of my +young companion with the courtesy belonging to other times than the +present. He was of middle height, reasonably stout. His eyes were dark +and expressive, and his hair and beard snow-white. Several guests were +present,--among others, the widow of one of his sons, recently married +to a second husband. + +Victor Hugo seated himself alone upon a sofa, and talked to no one. +While the rest of the company kept up a desultory conversation, a +servant announced M. Louis Blanc, and our expectations were raised only +to be immediately lowered, for at this announcement Victor Hugo arose +and withdrew into another room, from which we were able to hear the two +voices in earnest conversation, but from which neither gentleman +appeared. Was not this disappointment like one of those dreams in which, +just as you are about to attain some object of intense desire, the power +of sleep deserts you, and you awake to life's plain prose? + + * * * * * + +The shops of Paris are wonderfully well mounted and well served. The +display in the windows is not so large in proportion to the bulk of +merchandise as it is apt to be with us. Still, these windows do unfold a +catalogue of temptations longer than that of Don Giovanni's sins. + +Among them all, the jewellers' shops attract most. The love of human +beings for jewelry is a feature almost universal. The savage will give +land for beads. The women of Christendom will do the same thing. I have +seen fine displays of this kind in London, Rome, and Geneva. But in +Paris, these exhibits seem to characterize a certain vivid passion for +adornment, which is kindled and kept alive in the minds of French women, +and is by them communicated to the feminine world at large. + +The French woman of condition wears nothing which can be called _outre_. +She loves costly attire, but her taste, and that of her costumer, are +perfect. She wears the most delicate and harmonious shades, and the most +graceful forms. She never caricatures the fashion by exaggerating it. +English women of the same social position are more inclined to what is +tawdry, and have surely a less perfect sense of color and adaptation. + +Parisians are very homesick people when obliged to forsake their +capital. Madame de Stael, in full view of the beautiful lake of Geneva, +said that she would much prefer a view of the gutter in the Rue de Bac, +which in her day had not the attractions of the Bon Marche emporium, so +powerful to-day. + + * * * * * + +I should deserve ill of my subject if I failed to say that the great +issues of progress are to-day dearly and soberly held to by the +intelligence of the French people, and the good faith of their +representatives. In the history of the present republic, the solid +interests of the nation have slowly and steadfastly gained ground. + +The efforts which forward these seem to me to culminate in the measures +which are intended at once to establish popular education and to defend +it from ecclesiastical interference. The craze for military glory is +also yielding before the march of civilization, and the ambitions which +build up society are everywhere gaining upon the passions which destroy +it. + +In the last forty-five years, the social relations of France to the +civilized world have undergone much alteration. The magnificent +traditions of ancient royalty have become entirely things of the past. +The genius of the first Napoleon has passed out of people's minds. The +social prestige of France is no longer appealed to, no longer felt. + +We read French novels, because French novelists have an admirable style +of narrating, but we no longer go to them for powerful ideals of life +and character. The modern world has outgrown the Gallic theories of sex. +We are tired of hearing about the women whose merit consists in their +loving everything better than their husbands. In this light artillery of +fashion and fiction, France no longer holds the place which was hers of +old. + +In losing these advantages, she has, I think, gained better things. The +struggle of the French people to establish and maintain a republic in +the face of and despite monarchical Europe is a heroic one, worthy of +all esteem and sympathy. In science, France has never lost her eminence. +In serious literature, in the practical philosophy of history, in +criticism of the highest order, the French are still masters in their +own way. Notwithstanding their evil legislation regarding women, their +medical authorities have been most generous to our women students of +medicine. Many of these have crossed the Atlantic to seek in France that +clinical study and observation from which they have been in great +measure debarred in our own country. + +There is still much bigotry and intolerance, much shallow scepticism and +false philosophy; but there is also, underneath all this, the germ of +great and generous qualities which place the nation high in the scale of +humanity. + +I should be glad to bind together these scattered statements into some +great, instructive lesson for France and for ourselves. Perhaps the best +thing that I can do in this direction will be to suggest to Americans +the careful study of French history and of French character. The great +divisions of the world to-day are invaded by travel, and the iron horse +carries civilization far and wide. Many of those who go abroad may, +however, be found to have less understanding regarding foreign +countries than those who have learned all that may be learned concerning +them from history and literature. To many Americans, Paris is little +more than the place of shops and of fashions. I have been mortified +sometimes at the familiarity which our travellers show with all that may +be bought and sold on the other side of the ocean, combined with an +arrant and arrogant ignorance concerning the French people and the +country in which they live. + +Even to the most careful observer, the French are not easy to be +understood. The most opposite statements may be made about them. Some +call them noble; others, ignoble. To some, they appear turbulent and +ferocious; to others, slavish and cowardly. Great thinkers do not judge +them in this offhand way, and from such we may learn to make allowances +for the fact that monarchic and aristocratic rule create and foster +great inequalities of character and intelligence among the nations in +which they prevail. Limitations of mind and of opinion are inherited +from generations which have been dwarfed by political and spiritual +despotism; and in such countries, the success of liberal institutions, +even if emphatically assured, is but slowly achieved and established. + +A last word of mine shall commend this Paris to those who are yet to +visit it. Let me pray such as may have this experience not to suppose +that they have read the wonderful riddle of this city's life when they +shall have seen a few of its shops, palaces, and picture-galleries. If +they wish to understand what the French people are, and why they are +what they are, they will have to study history, politics, and human +nature pretty deeply. + +If they wish to have an idea of what the French may become, they must +keep their faith in all that America finds precious and invaluable,--in +free institutions, in popular education, and, above all, in the heart of +the people. Never let them believe that while freedom ennobles the +Anglo-Saxon, it brutalizes the Gaul. Despotism brutalizes for long +centuries, and freedom cannot ennoble in a moment. But give it time and +room, and it will ennoble. And let Americans who go to Paris remember +that they should there represent republican virtue and intelligence. + +How far this is from being the case some of us may know, and others +guess. Americans who visit Paris very generally relax their rules of +decorum and indulge in practices which they would not venture to +introduce at home. Hence they are looked upon with some disfavor by the +more serious part of the French people, while the frivolous ridicule +them at will. But I could wish that, in visiting a nation to whom we +Americans owe so much, we could think of something besides our own +amusement and the buying of pretty things to adorn our persons and our +houses. I could wish that we might visit schools, prisons, Protestant +churches, and hear something of the charities and reforms of the place, +and of what the best thinkers are doing and saying. I blush to think of +the gold which Americans squander in Paris, and of the bales of +merchandise of all sorts which we carry away. Far better would it be if +we made friends with the best people, exchanging with them our best +thought and experience, helping and being helped by them in the good +works which redeem the world. Better than the full trunk and empty +purse, which usually mark a return from Paris, will be a full heart and +a hand clasping across the water another hand, pure and resolute as +itself,--the hand of progress, the hand of order, the hand of brotherly +kindness and charity. + + + + +Greece Revisited + + +I SPEAK of a country to which all civilized countries are deeply +indebted. + +The common speech of Europe and America shows this. In whatever way the +languages of the western world have been woven and got together, they +all show here and there some golden gleam which carries us back to the +Hellenic tongue. Philosophy, science, and common thought alike borrow +their phraseology from this ancient source. + +I need scarcely say by what a direct descent all arts may claim to have +been recreated by Greek genius, nor can I exaggerate the importance of +the Greek poets, philosophers, and historians in the history of +literature. Rules of correct thinking and writing, the nice balance of +rhetoric, the methods of oratory, the notions of polity, of the +correlations of social and national interests,--in all of these +departments the Greeks may claim to have been our masters, and may call +us their slow and blundering pupils. + +A wide interval lies between these glories and the Greece of to-day. +Nations, like individuals, have their period of growth and decay, their +limit of life, which human devices seem unable to prolong. But while +systems of government and social organization change, race perseveres. +The Greeks, like the Hebrews, when scattered and powerless at home, have +been potent abroad. Deprived for centuries of political and national +existence, the spirit of their immortal literature, the power of their +subtle and ingenious mind, have leavened and fashioned the mind, not of +Europe only, but of the thinking world. + +Let us recall the briefest outline of the story. The states of ancient +Greece, always divided among themselves, in time invited the protection +of the Roman Empire, hoping thereby to attain peace and tranquillity. +Rome of to-day shows how her officials of old plundered the temples and +galleries of the Greeks, while her literary men admired and imitated the +Hellenic authors. + +At a later day, the beauty of the Orient seduced the stern heart of +Roman patriotism. A second Rome was built on the shores of the +Bosphorus,--a city whose beauty of position excelled even the dignity of +the seven hills. Greek and Roman, eastern and western, became mingled +and blent in a confusion with which the most patient scholar finds it +difficult to deal. Then came a political division,--eastern and western +empires, eastern and western churches, the Bishop of Rome and the +Patriarch of Constantinople. Other great changes follow. The western +empire crumbles, takes form again under Charlemagne, finally +disappears. The eastern empire follows it. The Turk plants his standard +on the shores of the Bosphorus. The sacred city falls into his hands, +without contradiction, so far as Europe is concerned. The veil of a dark +and bloody barbarism hides the monuments of a most precious +civilization. It is the age of blood. The nations of Western Europe have +still the faith and the attributes of bandits. The Turkish ataghan is +stronger than the Greek pen and chisel. The new race has a military +power of which the old could only faintly dream. + +And so the last Constantine falls, and Mahmoud sweeps from earth the +traces of his reign. In the old Church of St. Sophia, now the Mosque of +Omar, men show to-day, far up on one of the columns, the impress of the +conqueror's bloody hand, which could only strike so high because the +floor beneath was piled fathom-deep with Christian corpses. + +Another period follows. The Turk establishes himself in his new domain, +and employs the Greek to subjugate the Greek. Upon each Greek family the +tribute of a male child is levied; and this child is bred up in Turkish +ways, and taught to turn his weapon against the bosom of his mother +country. From these babes of Christian descent was formed the corps of +the Janissaries, a force so dangerous and deadly that the representative +of Turkish rule was forced at a later day to plan and accomplish its +destruction. + +The name "Greek" in this time no longer suggested a nation. I myself, in +my childhood, knew a young Greek, escaped from the massacres of Scio, +who told me that when, having learned English, he heard himself spoken +of as "the Greek," his first thought was that those who so spoke of him +were waiting to cut his throat. + +Now follows another epoch. Western Europe is busied in getting a little +civilization. Baptized mostly by force, _vi et armis_, she has still to +be Christianized: she has America to discover and to settle. She has to +go to school to the ghosts of Greece and Arabia, in order to have a +grammar and to learn arithmetic. There are some wars of religion, +endless wars for territorial aggrandizement. Europe is still a congress +of the beasts,--lion, tiger, boar, rhinoceros, all snared together by +the tortuous serpent of diplomacy. + +I pause, for out of this dark time came your existence and mine. A small +barque crosses the sea; a canoe steals toward the issue of a mighty +river. Such civilization as Europe has plants itself out in a new +country, in a virgin soil; and in the new domain are laid the +foundations of an empire whose greatness is destined to reside in her +peaceful and beneficent offices. Her task it shall be to feed the +starving emigrant, to give land and free citizenship to those +dispossessed of both by the greed of the old feudal systems. + +In the fulness of this young nation's life, a cry arose from that +ancient mother of arts and sciences. The Greek had arisen from his long +sleep, had become awake to the fact that civilization is more potent +than barbarism. Strong in this faith, Greece had closed in a death +struggle with the assassin of her national life. Through the enthusiasm +of individuals, not through the policy of governments, the desperate, +heroic effort received aid. From the night of ages, from the sea of +blood, Greece arose, shorn of her fair proportions, pointing to her +ruined temples, her mutilated statues, her dishonored graves. + +Americans may be thankful that this strange resurrection was not beheld +by our fathers with indifference. From their plenty, a duteous tribute +more than once went forth to feed and succor the country to which all +owe so much. And so an American, to-day, can look upon the Acropolis +without a blush--though scarcely without a tear. + +Contenting myself with this brief retrospect, I must turn from the page +of history to the record of individual experience. + +My first visit to Athens was in the year 1867. The Cretans were at this +time engaged in an energetic struggle for their freedom, and my husband +was the bearer of certain funds which he and others had collected in +America for the relief of the destitute families of the insurgents. A +part of this money was employed in sending provisions to the Island of +Crete, where the women and children had taken refuge in the fortresses +of the mountains, subject to great privations, and in danger of absolute +starvation. + +With the remainder of the fund, schools were endowed in Athens for the +children of the Cretan refugees. My husband's efforts were seconded by +an able Greek committee; and when, at the close of his labors, he turned +his face homeward, he was followed by the prayers and thanksgivings of +those whose miseries he had been enabled to relieve. + +Nearly ten years later than the time just spoken of, I again threaded my +way between the isles of Greece and arrived at the Piraeus, the ancient +port of Athens. A railway now connects these two points; but on this +occasion, we did not avail ourselves of it, preferring to take a +carriage for the short distance. + +In approaching Athens for the second time, my first surprise was to find +that it had grown to nearly double the size which I remembered ten years +before. The cleanly, thrifty, and cheerful aspect of the city presented +the greatest contrast to the squalor and filth of Constantinople, which +I had just left. The perfect blue of the heavens brought out in fine +effect the white marble of the new buildings, some of which are costly +and even magnificent. Yet there, in full sight, towering above +everything else, stood the unattainable beauty, the unequalled, +unrivalled Parthenon. + +I made several pilgrimages to the Acropolis, eager to revive my +recollection respecting the design and history of its various monuments. +I listened again and again to the statements of well-read archaeologists +concerning the uses of the temples, the positions of the statues and +bas-reliefs, the hundred gates, and the triumphal road which led up to +the height crowned with glories. + +But while I gave ear to what is more easily forgotten than +remembered,--the story of the long-vanished past,--my eyes received the +impression of a beauty that cannot perish. I did not say to the +Parthenon: Thou _wert_, but, Thou _art_ so beautiful, in thy perfect +proportion, in thy fine workmanship! + +What silver chisel turned the tender leaves of this marble foliage? Here +is a little bit, a yard or so, which has escaped the gnawing of the +elements, lying turned away from the course of the winds and rains! No +king of to-day, in building his palace, can order such a piece of work. +Artist he can find none to equal it. And I am proud to say that no king +nor millionaire to-day can buy this, or any other fragment belonging to +this sacred spot. What England took before Greece became a power again, +she may keep, because the British Museum is a treasure-house for the +world. But she will never repeat the theft: she is too wise to-day. +Christendom is too wise, and the Greeks have learned the value of what +they still possess. + +At the Acropolis, the theatre of Bacchus had been excavated a short time +before my previous visit. Near it they have now brought to light the +temple of AEsculapius. This temple, with the theatre of Bacchus and that +of Herodius Atticus, occupies the base of the Acropolis, on the side +that looks toward the sea. + +As one stands in the light of the perfect sky, discerning in the +distance that perfect sea, something of the cheerfulness of the ancient +Greeks makes itself felt, seems to pervade the landscape. Descending to +the theatre of Bacchus, the visitor may call up in his mind the vision +of the high feast of mirth and hilarity. Here was the stage; here are, +still entire, the marble seats occupied by the priests and other high +dignitaries, with one or two interesting bas-reliefs of the god. + +When I visited Greece in 1867, I found no proper museum containing the +precious fragments and works of art still left to the much-plundered +country. Some of these were preserved in the Theseion, a fine temple +well known to many by engravings. They were, however, very ill-arranged, +and could not be seen with comfort. I now found all my old favorites and +many others enshrined in the three museums which had been added to the +city during my absence. + +One of them is called the Barbakion. It contains, among other things, a +number of very ancient vases, on one of which the soul is represented by +a female figure with wings. Among these vases is a series relating to +family events, one showing a funeral, one a nativity, while two others +commemorate a bridal occasion. In one of these last, the bride sits +holding Eros in her arms, while her attendants present the wedding +gifts; in the other, moves the bridal procession, accompanied by music. +Here are preserved many small figures in clay, commonly spoken of in +Greece as the Tanagra dolls. A fine collection of these has been given +to the Boston Art Museum by a well-known patron of all arts, the late +Thomas G. Appleton. Here we saw a cremating pot of bronze, containing +the charred remains of a human body. I afterwards saw--at the Keramika, +an ancient cemetery--the stone vase from which this pot was taken. + +Among the objects shown at this museum was a beautiful set of gold +jewelry found in the cemetery just mentioned. It consisted of armlets, +bracelets, ear-rings, and a number of finger-rings, among which was one +of the coiled serpents so much in vogue to-day. I found here some +curious flat-bottomed pitchers, with a cocked-hat cover nicely fitted +on. This Greek device may have supplied the pattern for the first cocked +hat,--Dr. Holmes has told us about the last. + +But nothing in this collection impressed me more than did an ancient +mask cast from a dead face. This mask had lately been made to serve as a +matrix; and a plaster cast, newly taken from it, gave us clearly the +features and expression of the countenance, which was removed from us by +aeons of time. + +A second museum is that built at the Acropolis, which contains many +fragments of sculpture, among which I recognized a fine bas-relief +representing three women carrying water-jars, and a small figure of +wingless Victory, both of which I had seen twelve years before, exposed +to the elements. + +But the principal museum of the city, a fine building of dazzling white +marble, is the patriotic gift of a wealthy Greek, who devoted to this +object a great part of his large fortune. In this building are arranged +a number of the ancient treasures brought to light through the +persevering labors of Dr. and Mrs. Schliemann. As the doctor has +published a work giving a detailed account of these articles, I will +mention only a few of them. + +Very curious in form are the gold cups found in the treasury of +Agamemnon. They are shaped a little like a flat champagne glass, but do +not expand at the base, standing somewhat insecurely upon the +termination of their stems. Here, too, are masks of thin beaten gold, +which have been laid upon the faces of the dead. Rings, ear-rings, +brooches, and necklaces there are in great variety; among the first, two +gold signet rings of marked beauty. I remember, also, several sets of +ornaments, resembling buttons, in gold and enamel. + +From the main building, we passed into a fine gallery filled with +sculptures, many of which are monumental in character. I will here +introduce two pages from my diary, written almost on the spot:-- + + Nothing that I have seen in Athens or elsewhere impresses me like + the Greek marbles which I saw yesterday in the museum, most of + which have been found and gathered since my visit in 1867. A single + monumental slab had then been excavated, which, with the help of + Pausanias, identified the site of the ancient Keramika, a place of + burial. Here have been found many tombs adorned with bas-reliefs, + with a number of vases and several statues. How fortunate has been + the concealment of these works of art until our time, by which, + escaping Roman rapacity and Turkish barbarism, they have survived + the wreck of ages, to show us, to-day, the spirit of family life + among the ancient Greeks! Italy herself possesses no Greek relics + equal in this respect to those which I contemplated yesterday. For + any student of art or of history, it is worth crossing the ocean + and encountering all fatigues to read this imperishable record of + human sentiment and relation; for while the works of ancient art + already familiar to the public show us the artistic power and the + sense of beauty with which this people were so marvellously + endowed, these marbles make evident the feelings with which they + regarded their dead. + + Perhaps the first lesson one draws from their contemplation is the + eternity, so to speak, of the family affections. No words nor work + have ever portrayed a regard more tender than is shown in these + family groups, in which the person about to depart is represented + in a sitting posture, while his nearest friends or relatives stand + near, expressing in their countenances and action the sorrow and + pathos of the final separation. Here an aged father gives the last + blessing to the son who survives and mourns him. Here a dying + mother reclines, surrounded by a group of friends, one of whom + bears in her arms the infant whose birth, presumably, cost the + mother her life. Two other slabs represent partings between a + mother and her child. In one of these the young daughter holds to + her bosom a dove, in token of the innocence of her tender age. In + the other, the mother is bending over the daughter with a sweet, + sad seriousness. Other groups show the parting of husband and wife, + friend from friend; and I now recall one of these in which the + expression of the clasped hands of two individuals excels in + tenderness anything that I have ever seen in paint or marble. The + Greeks, usually so reserved in their portrayal of nature, seem in + these instances to have laid aside the calm cloak of restraint + which elsewhere enwrapped them, in order to give permanent + expression to the tender and beautiful associations which hallow + death. + + TWO DRAMAS + + In the Bacchus theatre, + With the wreck of countless years, + The thought of the ancient jollity + Moved me almost to tears. + + Bacchus, the god who brightens life + With sudden, rosy gleam, + Lighting the hoary face of Age + With Youth's surpassing dream, + + The tide that swells the human heart + With inspiration high, + Ebbing and sinking at sunset fall + To dim eternity. + + * * * * * + + In the halls where treasured lie + The monumental stones + That stood where men no longer leave + The mockery of their bones, + + Why did I smile at the marble griefs + Who wept for the bygone joy? + Within that sorrow dwells a good + That Time can ne'er destroy. + + Th' immortal depths of sympathy + All measurements transcend, + And in man's living marble seal + The love he bears his friend. + +It would take me long to tell how much Athens has been enriched by the +munificence of her wealthy merchants, whose shrewdness and skill in +trade are known all over the world. Of some of these, dying abroad, the +words may well be quoted: "_Moriens reminiscitur Argos_," as they have +bequeathed for the benefit of their beloved city the sums of money +which have a permanent representation in the public buildings I have +mentioned, and many others. Better still than this, a number of +individuals of this class have returned to Greece, to end their days +beneath their native skies, and the social resources of the metropolis +are enlarged by their presence. + +This leads us to what may interest many more than statements concerning +buildings and antiquities,--the social aspect of Athens. + +The court and high society, or what is called such, asks our first +attention. The royal palace, a very fine one, was built by King Otho. +The present King and Queen are very simple in their tastes. One meets +them walking among the ruins and elsewhere in plain dress, with no other +escort than a large dog. The visit which I now describe took place in +Carnival time, and we heard, on our arrival, of a court ball, for which +we soon received cards. We were admonished by the proper parties to come +to the palace before nine o'clock, in order that we might be in the +ball-room before the entrance of the King and Queen. We repaired thither +accordingly, and, passing through a hall lined with officials and +servants in livery, ascended the grand staircase, and were soon in a +very elegant ball-room, well filled with a creditable _beau monde_. The +servants of the palace all wore Palikari costume,--the white skirt and +full-sleeved shirt, with embroidered vest and leggings. The ladies +present were attired with a due regard for Paris in general, and for +Worth in particular. The gentlemen were either in uniform, or in that +inexpressibly sleek and mournful costume which is called "evening +dress." + +We were presently introduced to the maids of honor, one of whom bore the +historic name of Kolokotronis. They were dressed in white, and wore +badges on which the crown and the King's initial letter were wrought in +small brilliants. Many of the ladies displayed beautiful diamonds. + +Presently a hush fell on the rapidly talking assembly. People ranged +themselves in a large circle, and the sovereigns entered. The Queen wore +a dress of white tulle embroidered with red over white silk, and a +garland of flowers in which the same color predominated. Her corsage was +adorned with knots of diamonds and rubies, and she wore a complete +_parure_ of the same costly stones. Their majesties made the round of +the circle. We, as strangers, were at once presented to the Queen, who +with great affability said to me: "I hear that you have been in Egypt, +and that your daughter ascended the great Pyramid." I made as low a +courtesy as was consistent with my dignity as president of a number of +clubs. One or two further remarks were interchanged, and the lovely, +gracious blonde moved on. + +When the presentations and salutations were over, the royal pair +proceeded to open the ball, having each some high and mighty partner +for the first _contredanse_. The Queen is very fond of dancing, and is +happier than some other queens in being allowed to waltz to her heart's +content. + +There were at the ball three of our fellow-countrymen who could dance. +Two of them wore the uniform of our navy, and had kept it very fresh and +brilliant. These Terpsichorean gentlemen were matched by three ladies +well versed in the tactics of the German. Suddenly a swanlike, circling +movement began to distinguish itself from the quick, hopping, German +waltz which prevails everywhere in Europe. People looked on with +surprise, which soon brightened into admiration. And if any one had said +to me: "What is that, mother?" I should have replied: "The Boston, my +child." + +Lest the Queen's familiarity with my movements should be thought to +imply some previous acquaintance between us, I must venture a few words +of explanation. + +In the first place, I must mention a friend, Mr. Paraskevaides, who had +been very helpful to Dr. Howe and myself on the occasion of our visit to +Athens in 1867. This gentleman was one of the first to greet my daughter +and myself, when she, for the first, and I, for the second time, arrived +in Athens. It was from him that we heard of the court ball just +mentioned, and through him that we received the cards enabling us to +attend it. I had given Mr. Paraskevaides a copy of the _Woman's +Journal_, published in Boston, containing a letter of mine describing a +recent visit to Cairo and the Pyramids. Our friend called at the palace +to speak of my presence in Athens to the proper authorities, and by +chance encountered the Queen as she was stepping into her carriage for a +drive. He told her that the widow and daughter of Dr. Howe would attend +the evening's ball. She asked what he held in his hand. "A paper, +printed in Boston, containing a letter written by Mrs. Howe." "Lend it +to me," said the Queen. "I wish to read Mrs. Howe's letter." Thus it was +that the Queen was able to greet me with so pleasant a mark of interest. + +The King and Queen withdrew just before supper was announced, which was +very considerate on their part; for, as royal personages may not eat +with others, we could not have had our supper if they had not taken +theirs elsewhere. We were then escorted to the banquet hall, where were +spread a number of tables, at which the guests stood, and regaled +themselves with such customary viands as cold chicken, salad, +sandwiches, ices, and fruit. All of the usual wines were served in +profusion, with nice black coffee to keep people awake for the German, +or, as it is called in Europe, the _cotillon_. And presently we marched +back to the ball-room, and the sovereigns re-appeared. The _Germanites_ +took chairs, the chaperons kept their modest distance, and the thing +that hath no end began, the Queen making the first loop in the mazy +weaving of the dance. The next thing that I remember was, three o'clock +in the morning, a sleepy drive in a carriage, and the talk that you +always hear going home from a party. Now, I ask, was not this orthodox? + +This being the gay season of the year, we were present at various +festivities whose elegance would have done honor to London or Paris. I +particularly remember, among these, a fancy ball at the house of Mr. and +Mrs. Zyngros. Our hostess was a beautiful woman, and looked every inch a +queen, as she stood at the head of her stately marble stairway, in the +gold and crimson costume of Catherine de Medici. The ball-room was +thronged with Spanish gipsies, Elizabethan nobles, harlequins, Arcadian +shepherds, and Greek peasants. I may also mention another ball, at which +a band of maskers made their appearance, splendidly attired, and voluble +with the squeaking tone which usually accompanies a mask. The master and +mistress of the house were prepared for this interruption, which added +greatly to the gaiety of the occasion. + +I have given a little outline of these gay doings, in order that you may +know that the modern Athens is entitled to boast that she possesses all +the appliances of civilization. Now let me say a few words of things +more interesting to people of thoughtful minds. + +I remember with great pleasure an evening passed beneath the roof of Dr. +and Mrs. Schliemann. Well known as is Dr. Schliemann by reputation, it +is less generally known that his wife, a Greek woman, has had very much +to do with both his studies and the success of his excavations. She is +considered in Greece a woman of unusual culture, being well versed in +the ancient literature of her country. I was present once at a lecture +which she gave in London, before the Royal Historical Society. At the +close of the lecture, Lord Talbot de Malahide announced that Mrs. +Schliemann had been elected a member of the society. The Duke of Argyll +was present on this occasion, and among those who commented upon the +opinions advanced in the lecture was Mr. Gladstone. Mrs. Schliemann, +however, bears her honors very modestly, and is a charming hostess, +gracious and friendly, thoroughly liked and esteemed in this her native +country, and elsewhere. + +The _soiree_ at Mrs. Schliemann's was merely a conventional reception, +with dancing to the music of a pianoforte. We were informed that our +hostess was suffering from the fatigues undergone in assisting her +husband's labors, and that the music and dancing were introduced to +spare her the strain of overmuch conversation. She was able, however, +to receive morning visitors on one day of every week, and I took +advantage of this opportunity to see her again. I spoke of her little +boy, a child of two years, who had been pointed out to me in the Park, +by my friend Paraskevaides. He bore the grandiose name of Agamemnon. +Presently we heard the voice of a child below stairs, and Mrs. +Schliemann said: "That is my baby; he has just come in with his nurse." +I asked that we might see him, and the nurse brought him into the +drawing-room. At sight of us, he began to kick and scream. Wishing to +soothe him, I said: "Poor little Agamemnon!" Mrs. Schliemann rejoined: +"I say, nasty little Agamemnon!" + +Is it to be supposed that I entered and left Athens without uttering the +cabalistic word "club"? By no means. I found myself one day invited to +speak to a number of ladies, at a friend's house, upon a theme of my own +choosing; and this theme was, "The Advancement of Women as Promoted by +Association." My audience, numbering about forty, was the best that +could be gathered in Athens. I found there, as I have found elsewhere in +Europe, great need of the new life which association gives, but little +courage to take the first step in a new direction. I could only scratch +my furrow, drop my seed, and wait, like _Miss Flyte_, in "Bleak House," +for a result, if need be, "on the day of judgment." + +It is a delight to speak of a deeper furrow which was drawn, ten years +earlier, by an abler hand than mine, though several of us gave some help +in the work done at that time. I allude to the efforts made by my dear +husband in behalf of the suffering Cretans, when they were struggling +bravely for the freedom which Europe still denies them. Some of the +money raised by his earnest efforts, as I have already said, found its +way to the then desolate island, in the shape of provisions and clothing +for the wives and children of the combatants. Some of it remained in +Athens, and paid for the education of a whole generation of Cretan +children exiled from their homes, and rendered able, through the aid +thus afforded, to earn their own support. + +Some of the money, moreover, went to found an industrial establishment +in Athens, which has since been continued and enlarged by funds derived +from other sources. This establishment began with two or three looms, +the Cretan women being expert weavers, and the object being to enable +them to earn their bread in a strange city. And it now has at least a +dozen looms, and the Dorian mothers, stately and powerful, sit at them +all day long, weaving dainty silken webs, gossamer stuffs, strong cotton +fabrics, and serviceable carpets. + +In those days I saw Marathon for the first time, and learned the truth +of Lord Byron's lines:-- + + The mountains look on Marathon, + And Marathon looks on the sea. + +This expedition occupied the whole of a winter day. We started from the +hotel after early breakfast, and did not regain it until long after +dark. Our carriages were accompanied by an escort of dragoons, which the +Greek government supplies, not in view of any real danger from brigands, +but in order to afford strangers every possible security. A drive of +some three hours brought us to the spot. + +A level plain, between the mountains and the sea; a mound, raised at its +centre, marking the burial-place of those who fell in the famous battle; +a sea-beach, washed by blue waves, and basking in the golden Attic +sunlight--this is what we saw at Marathon. + +Here we gathered pebbles, and I preserved for some days a knot of +daisies growing in a grassy clod of earth. But my mind saw in Marathon +an earnest of the patriotic spirit which has lifted Greece from such +ruin as the Persians were never able to inflict upon her. Worthy +descendants of those ancient heroes were the patriots who fought, in our +own century, the war of Greek independence. I am glad to think that all +heroic deeds have a fatherhood of their own, whose line never becomes +extinct. + +Those who would institute a comparison between ancient and modern art +should first compare the office of art in ancient times with the +function assigned it in our own. + +The sculptures of classic Greece were primarily the embodiment of its +popular theology and the record of its patriotic heroism. They are not, +as we might think them, fancy-free. The marble gods of Hellas +characterize for us the _morale_ of that ancient community. They +expressed the religious conviction of the artist, and corresponded to +the faith of the multitude. If we recognize the freedom of imagination +in their conception, we also feel the reverence which guided the +sculptor in their execution. As Emerson has said:-- + + Himself from God he could not free. + +How necessary these marbles were to the devotion of the time, we may +infer from the complaint reported in one of Cicero's orations,--that a +certain Greek city had been so stripped of its marbles that its people +had no god left to pray to. + +In the city of the Caesars, this Greek art became the minister of luxury. +The ethics of the Roman people chiefly concerned their relation to the +state, to which their church was in great measure subservient. The +statues stolen from the worship of the Greeks adorned the baths and +palaces of the Emperors. This we must think providential for us, since +it is in this way that they have escaped the barbarous destruction which +for ages swept over the whole of Greece, and to whose rude force, +column, monument, and statue were only raw material for the lime-kiln. + +Still more secondary is the position of sculpture in the civilization of +to-day. Here and there a monument or statue commemorates some great name +or some great event. But these are still outside the current of our +daily life. Marble is to us a gospel of death, and we grow less and less +fond of its cold abstraction. The glitter of _bric-a-brac_, bits of +color, an unexpected shimmer here and there--such are the favorite +aspects of art with us. + +In saying this, I remember that many beautiful works of art have been +purchased by wealthy Americans, and that a surprising number of our +people know what is worth purchasing in this line. And yet I think that +in the houses of these very people, art is rather the servant of luxury +than the embodiment of any strong and sincere affection. + +We cannot turn back the tide of progress. We cannot make our religion +sculpturesque and picturesque. God forbid that we should! But we can +look upon the sculptures of ancient Greece with reverent appreciation, +and behold in them a record of the naive and simple faith of a great +people. + +If we must speak thus of plastic art, what shall we say of the drama? + +Sit down with me before this palace of OEdipus, whose facade is the +only scenic aid brought to help the illusion of the play. See how the +whole secret and story of the hero's fate is wrought out before its +doors, which open upon his youthful strength and glory, and close upon +his desolate shame and blindness. Follow the majestic tread of the +verse, the perfect progress of the action, and learn the deep reverence +for the unseen powers which lifts and spiritualizes the agony of the +plot. + +Where shall we find a parallel to this in the drama of our day? The most +striking contrast to it will be furnished by what we call a "realistic" +play, which is a play devised upon the supposition that those who will +attend its representation are not possessed of any imagination, but must +be dazzled through their eyes and deafened through their ears, until the +fatigue of the senses shall take the place of intellectual pleasure. The +_denouement_ will, no doubt, present, as it can, the familiar moral that +virtue is in the end rewarded, and vice punished. But such virtue! and +such vice! How shall we be sure which is which? + +During this visit, I had an interview which brought me face to face +with some of the Cretan chiefs, who were exiles in Athens at the time of +my visit, in consequence of their participation in the more recent +efforts of the Islanders to free themselves from the Turkish rule. + +I received, one day, official notice that a committee, appointed by a +number of the Cretan exiles, desired permission to wait upon me, with +the view of presenting an address which should recognize the efforts +made by Dr. Howe in behalf of their unfortunate country. In accordance +with this request, I named an hour on the following day, and at the +appointed time my guests made their appearance. The Cretan chiefs were +five in number. All of them, but one, were dressed in the picturesque +costume of their country. This one was Katzi Michaelis, the youngest of +the party, and somewhat more like the world's people than the others. +Two of these were very old men, one of them numbering eighty-four years, +and bearing a calm and serene front, like one of Homer's heroes. This +was old Korakas, who had only laid down his arms within two years. The +chiefs were accompanied by several gentlemen, residents of Athens. One +of these, Mr. Rainieri, opened proceedings by a few remarks in French, +setting forth the object of the visit, and introducing the address of +the Cretan committee, which he read in their own tongue:-- + + MADAM,-- + + We, the undersigned, emigrants from Crete, who await in free Greece + the complete emancipation of our country, have learned with + pleasure the fact of your presence in Athens. We feel assured that + we shall faithfully interpret the sentiments of our + fellow-countrymen by saluting your return to this city, and by + assuring you, at the same time, that the remembrance of the + benefits conferred by your late illustrious husband is always + living in our hearts. When the sun of liberty shall arise upon the + Island of Crete, the Cretans will, no doubt, decree the erection of + a monument which will attest to succeeding generations the + gratitude of our country toward her noble benefactor. For the + moment, Madam, deign to accept the simple expression of our + sentiments, and our prayers for the prosperity of your family and + your nation, to which we and our children shall ever be bound by + the ties of gratitude. + +The substance of my reply to Mr. Rainieri was as follows:-- + + MY DEAR SIR,-- + + I beg that you will express to these gentlemen my gratitude for + their visit, and for the sentiments communicated in the address to + which I have just listened. I am much moved by the mention made of + the services which my late illustrious husband was able to render + to the cause of Greece in his youth, and to that of Crete in his + later life. It is true that his earliest efforts, outside of his + native country, were for Greek independence, and that his latest + endeavors in Europe were made in aid of the Cretans, who have + struggled with so much courage and perseverance to deliver their + country from the yoke of Turkish oppression. Pray assure these + gentlemen that my children and I will never cease to pray for the + welfare of Greece, and especially for the emancipation of Crete. + Though myself already in the decline of life, I yet hope that I + shall live long enough to see the deliverance of your island, + [Greek] ten eleutherian tes Kretes. + +A Greek newspaper's report of this occasion remarked:-- + + The last words of Mrs. Howe's reply, spoken in Greek, brought tears + to the eyes of the heroes, most of whom had known the + ever-memorable Dr. Howe in the glorious days of the war of 1821, + and had fought with him against the oppressors. Mr. Rainieri + interpreted the meaning of Mrs. Howe's words to his + fellow-citizens. After this, Mrs. Howe gave orders for + refreshments, and began to talk slowly, but distinctly, in Greek, + to the great pleasure of all present, who heard directly from her + the voice of her heart. + +I will only add that all parties stood during the official part of the +interview. This being at an end, coffee and cordials were brought, and +we sat at ease, and chatted as well as my limited use of the modern +Greek tongue allowed. Before we separated, one of the Greeks present +invited the chiefs and myself and daughter to a feast which he proposed +to give at Phaleron, in honor of the meeting which I have just +described. + +Some account of this festivity may not be uninteresting to my readers. I +must premise that it was to be no banquet of modern fashion, but a feast +of the Homeric sort, in which a lamb, roasted whole in the open air, +would be the principal dish. Phaleron, where it was appointed to take +place, is an ancient port, only three miles distant from Athens. The +sea view from this point is admirable. The bay is small, and its +surroundings are highly picturesque. Classic as was the occasion, the +unclassic railway furnished our conveyance. + +The Cretan chiefs came punctually to the station, and presently we all +entered a parlor-car, and were whisked off to the scene of action. This +was the hotel at Phaleron, where we found a long table handsomely set +out, and adorned with fruits and flowers. The company dispersed for a +short time,--some to walk by the shore; some to see the lambs roasting +on their spit in the courtyard; I, to sit quietly for half an hour, +after which interval, dinner was announced. + +Mr. Rainieri gave me his arm, and seated me on his right. On my right +sat Katzi Michaelis. My daughter and a young cousin were twined in like +blooming roses between the gray old chieftains. Paraskevaides, the giver +of the feast, looked all aglow with pleasure and enthusiasm. Our soup +was served,--quite a worldly, French soup. But the Greeks insist that +the elaborate style of cookery usually known as French originated with +them. Then came a Cretan dish consisting of the liver and entrails of +the lambs, twisted and toasted on a spit. Some modern _entremets_ +followed, and then, as _piece de resistance_, the lambs, with +accompanying salad. Each of the elder chiefs, before tasting his first +glass of wine, rose and saluted the company, making especial obeisance +to the master of the feast. + +The Homeric rage of hunger and thirst having been satisfied, it became +time for us to make the most of a reunion so rare in its elements, and +necessarily so brief. I will here quote partially the report given in +one of the Greek papers of the time. The writer says: "During dinner +many warm toasts were drunk. Mr. Rainieri drank to the health of Mrs. +Howe. Mr. Paraskevaides drank to the memory of Dr. Howe and the health +of all freedom-loving Americans, giving his toast first in Greek and +afterwards in English. To all this, Mrs. Howe made answer in French, +with great sympathy and eloquence." So the paper said, but I will only +say that I did as well as I was able. + +At the mention of Dr. Howe's name, old Korakas rose, and said: "I assure +Mrs. Howe that when, with God's will, Crete becomes free, the Cretans +will erect a statue to the memory of her ever-memorable husband." At +this time, I thought it only right to propose the memory of President +Felton, former president of Harvard University, in his day an ardent +lover of Greek literature, and of the land which gave it birth. The +eldest son of this lamented friend sat with us at the table, and had +become so proficient in the language of the country as to be able to +acknowledge the compliment in Greek, which the reporter qualifies as +excellent. Apropos of this same reporter, let me say that he entered so +heartily into the spirit of the feast as to improvise on the spot some +lines of poetry, of which the following is a free translation:-- + + I greet the warriors of brave Crete + Assembled in this place. + Each of them represents her mountains, + Each her heart, each her breath. + If life may be measured by struggles, + So great is her life, + That on the day when she becomes free + Two worlds will be filled with the joy of her freedom. + +The report says truly that the heroes of Crete, with their white beards, +resembled gods of Olympus. The three oldest--Korakas, Kriaris, and +Syphacus--spoke of the days in which Dr. Howe, while taking part with +them in the military operations of the war of Greek independence, at the +same time made his medical skill availing to the sick and wounded. + +When we had risen from the board, passing into another room, my daughter +saw a ball lying on the table, and soon engaged the ancient chiefs in +the pastime of throwing and catching it. "See," said one of the company, +"Dr. Howe's daughter is playing with the men who, fifty years ago, were +her father's companions in arms." + +After the simple patriarchal festivity, the return, even to Athens, +seemed a return to the commonplace. + +A word regarding the Greek church belongs here. Its ritual represents, +without doubt, the most ancient form of worship which can have +representation in these days. The church calls itself simply orthodox. +It classes Christians as orthodox, Romanist, and Protestant, and +condemns the two last-named confessions of faith equally as heresies. +The Greek church in Greece has little zeal for the propaganda of its +special doctrine, but it has great zeal against the introduction of any +other sect within the boundaries of its domain. Protestant and Catholic +congregations are tolerated in Greece, but the attempt to educate Greek +children in the tenets held by either is not tolerated, is in fact +prohibited by government. I found the religious quiet of Athens somewhat +disturbed by the presence of several missionaries, supported by funds +from America, who persisted in teaching and preaching; one, after the +form of the Baptist, another, after that of the Presbyterian body. The +schools formerly established in connection with these missions have been +forcibly closed, because those in charge of them would not submit them +to the religious authority of the Greek priesthood. + +The Sunday preaching of the missionaries, on the other hand, still went +on, making converts from time to time, and supplying certainly a direct +and vivid influence quite other than the extremely formal teaching of +the state church. The most prominent of these missionaries are Greeks +who have received their education in America, and who combine a fervent +love for their mother country with an equally fervent desire for her +religious progress. One can easily understand the attachment of the +Greeks to their national church. It has been the ark of safety by which +their national existence has been preserved. + +When the very name of Hellene was almost obliterated from the minds of +those entitled to bear it, the Greek priesthood were unwearied in +keeping alive the love of the ancient ritual and doctrine, the belief in +the Christian religion. This debt of gratitude is warmly remembered by +the Greeks of to-day, and their church is still to them the symbol of +national, as well as of religious, unity. On the other hand, the +progress of religious thought and culture carries inquiring minds beyond +the domain of ancient and literal interpretation, and the outward +conformity which society demands is counter-balanced by much personal +scepticism and indifference. The missionaries, who cannot compete in +polite learning with the _elite_ of their antagonists, are yet much +better informed than the greater part of the secular clergy, and +represent, besides, something of American freedom, and the right and +duty of doing one's own thinking in religious matters, and of accepting +doctrines, if at all, with a living faith and conviction, not with a +dead and formal assent. It is one of those battles between the Past and +the Future which have to fight themselves out to an issue that outsiders +cannot hasten. + +Shall I close these somewhat desultory remarks with any attempt at a +lesson which may be drawn from them? Yes; to Americans I will say: Love +Greece. Be glad of the men who rose up from your midst at the cry of her +great anguish, to do battle in her behalf. Be glad of the money which +you or your fathers sent to help her. America never spends money better +than in this way. Remember what this generation may be in danger of +forgetting,--that we can never be so great ourselves as to be absolved +from regarding the struggle for freedom, in the remotest corners of the +earth, with tender sympathy and interest. And in the great reactions +which attend human progress, when self-interest is acknowledged as the +supreme god everywhere, and the ideals of justice and honor are set out +of sight and derided, let the heart of this country be strong to protest +against military usurpation, against barbarous rule. Let America invite +to her shores the dethroned heroes of liberal thought and policy, saying +to them: "Come and abide with us; we have a country, a hand, a heart, +for you." + + + + +The Salon in America + + +THE word "society" has reached the development of two opposite meanings. +The generic term applies to the body politic _en masse_; the specific +term is technically used to designate a very limited portion of that +body. The use, nowadays, of the slang expression "sassiety" is evidence +that we need a word which we do not as yet possess. + +It is with this department of the human fellowship that I now propose to +occupy myself, and especially with one of its achievements, considered +by some a lost art,--the salon. + +This prelude of mine is somewhat after the manner of _Polonius_, but, as +Shakespeare must have had occasion to observe, the mind of age has ever +a retrospective turn. Those of us who are used to philosophizing must +always go back from a particular judgment to some governing principle +which we have found, or think we have found, in long experience. The +question whether salons are possible in America leads my thoughts to +other questions which appear to me to lie behind this one, and which +primarily concern the well-being of civilized man. + +The uses of society, in the sense of an assemblage for social +intercourse, may be briefly stated as follows: first of all, such +assemblages are needed, in order to make people better friends. +Secondly, they are needed to enlarge the individual mind by the +interchange of thought and expression with other minds. Thirdly, they +are needed for the utilization of certain sorts and degrees of talent +which would not be available either for professional, business, or +educational work, but which, appropriately combined and used, can +forward the severe labors included under these heads, by the +instrumentality of sympathy, enjoyment, and good taste. + +Any social custom or institution which can accomplish one or more of +these ends will be found of important use in the work of civilization; +but here, as well as elsewhere, the ends which the human heart desires +are defeated by the poverty of human judgment and the general ignorance +concerning the relation of means to ends. Society, thus far, is a sort +of lottery, in which there are few prizes and many blanks, and each of +these blanks represents some good to which men and women are entitled, +and which they should have, and could, if they only knew how to come at +it. + +Thus, social intercourse is sometimes so ordered that it develops +antagonism instead of harmony, and makes one set of people the enemies +of another set, dividing not only circles, but friendships and +families. This state of things defeats society's first object, which, in +my view, is to make people better friends. Secondly, it will happen, and +not seldom, that the frequent meeting together of a number of people, +necessarily restricted, instead of enlarging the social horizon of the +individual, will tend to narrow it more and more, so that sets and +cliques will revolve around small centres of interest, and refuse to +extend their scope. + +In this way, end number two, the enlargement of the individual mind is +lost sight of, and, end number three, the interchange of thought and +experience does not have room to develop itself. + +People say what they think others want to hear: they profess experiences +which they have never had. Here, consequently, a sad blank is drawn, +where we might well look for the greatest prize; and, end number four, +the utilization of secondary or even tertiary talents is defeated by the +application of a certain fashion varnish, which effaces all features of +individuality, and produces a wondrously dull surface, where we might +have hoped for a brilliant variety of form and color. + +These defects of administration being easily recognized, the great +business of social organizations ought to be to guard against them in +such wise that the short space and limited opportunity of individual +life should have offered to it the possibility of a fair and generous +investment, instead of the uncertain lottery of which I spoke just now. + +One of the great needs of society in all times is that its guardians +shall take care that rules or institutions devised for some good end +shall not become so perverted in the use made of them as to bring about +the result most opposed to that which they were intended to secure. +This, I take it, is the true meaning of the saying that "the price of +liberty is eternal vigilance," no provision to secure this being sure to +avail, without the constant direction of personal care to the object. + +The institution of the salon might, in some periods of social history, +greatly forward the substantial and good ends of human companionship. I +can easily fancy that, in other times and under other circumstances, its +influence might be detrimental to general humanity and good fellowship. +We can, in imagination, follow the two processes which I have here in +mind. The strong action of a commanding character, or of a commanding +interest, may, in the first instance, draw together those who belong +together. Fine spirits, communicative and receptive, will obey the fine +electric force which seeks to combine them,--the great wits, and the +people who can appreciate them; the poets, and their fit hearers; +philosophers, statesmen, economists, and the men and women who will be +able and eager to learn from the informal overflow of their wisdom and +knowledge. + +Here we may have a glimpse of a true republic of intelligence. What +should overthrow it? Why should it not last forever, and be handed down +from one generation to another? + +The salon is an insecure institution; first, because the exclusion of +new material, of new men and new ideas, may so girdle such a society +that its very perfection shall involve its death. Then, on account of +the false ideas and artificial methods which self-limiting society tends +to introduce, in time the genuine basis of association disappears from +view: the great _name_ is wanted for the reputation of the salon, not +the great intelligence for its illumination. The moment that you put the +name in place of the individual, you introduce an element of insincerity +and failure. + +There is a sort of homage quite common in society, which amounts to such +flattery as this: "Madam, I assure you that I consider you an eminently +brilliant and successful sham. Will you tell me your secret, or shall I, +a worker in the same line, tell you mine?" Again, the contradictory +objects of our desired salon are its weakness. We wish it to exclude the +general public, but we dreadfully desire that it shall be talked about +and envied by the general public. These two opposite aims--a severe +restriction of membership, and an unlimited extension of +reputation--are very likely to destroy the social equilibrium of any +circle, coterie, or association. + +Such contradictions have deep roots; even the general conduct of +neighborhood evinces them. People are often concerned lest those who +live near them should infringe upon the rights and reserves of their +household. In large cities, people sometimes boast with glee that they +have no acquaintance with the families dwelling on either side of them. +And yet, in some of those very cities, social intercourse is limited by +regions, and one street of fine houses will ignore another, which is, to +all appearances, as fine and as reputable. Under these circumstances, +some may naturally ask: "Who is my neighbor?" In the sense of the good +Samaritan, mostly no one. + +Dante has given us pictures of the ideal good and the ideal evil +association. The company of his demons is distracted by incessant +warfare. Weapons are hurled back and forth between them, curses and +imprecations, while the solitary souls of great sinners abide in the +torture of their own flame. As the great poet has introduced to us a +number of his acquaintance in this infernal abode, we may suppose him to +have given us his idea of much of the society of his own time. Such +appeared to him that part of the World which, with the Flesh and the +Devil, completes the trinity of evil. But, in his Paradiso, what +glimpses does he give us of the lofty spiritual communion which then, as +now, redeemed humanity from its low discredit, its spite and malice! + +Resist as we may, the Christian order is prevailing, and will more and +more prevail. At the two opposite poles of popular affection and learned +persuasion, it did overcome the world, ages ago. In the intimate details +of life, in the spirit of ordinary society, it will penetrate more and +more. We may put its features out of sight and out of mind, but they are +present in the world about us, and what we may build in ignorance or +defiance of them will not stand. Modern society itself is one of the +results of this world conquest which was crowned with thorns nearly two +thousand years ago. In spite of the selfishness of all classes of men +and women, this conquest puts the great goods of life within the reach +of all. + +I speak of Christianity here, because, as I see it, it stands in direct +opposition to the natural desire of privileged classes and circles to +keep the best things for their own advantage and enjoyment. "What, +then!" will you say, "shall society become an agrarian mob?" By no +means. Its great domain is everywhere crossed by boundaries. All of us +have our proper limits, and should keep them, when we have once learned +them. + +But all of us have a share, too, in the good and glory of human +destiny. The free course of intelligence and sympathy in our own +commonwealth establishes here a social unity which is hard to find +elsewhere. Do not let any of us go against this. Animal life itself +begins with a cell, and slowly unfolds and expands until it generates +the great electric currents which impel the world of sentient beings. + +The social and political life of America has passed out of the cell +state into the sweep of a wide and brilliant efficiency. Let us not try +to imprison this truly cosmopolitan life in cells, going back to the +instinctive selfhood of the barbaric state. + +Nature starts from cells, but develops by centres. If we want to find +the true secret of social discrimination, let us seek it in the study of +centres,--central attractions, each subordinated to the governing +harmony of the universe, but each working to keep together the social +atoms that belong together. There was a time in which the stars in our +beautiful heaven were supposed to be kept in their places by solid +mechanical contrivances, the heaven itself being an immense body that +revolved with the rest. The progress of science has taught us that the +luminous orbs which surround us are not held by mechanical bonds, but +that natural laws of attraction bind the atom to the globe, and the +globe to its orbit. + +Even so is it with the social atoms which compose humanity. Each of +them has his place, his right, his beauty; and each and all are governed +by laws of belonging which are as delicate as the tracery of the frost, +and as mighty as the frost itself. + +The club is taking the place of the salon to-day, and not without +reason. I mean by this the study, culture, and social clubs, not those +modern fortresses in which a man rather takes refuge from society than +really seeks or finds it. I have just said that mankind are governed by +centres of natural attraction, around which their lives come to revolve. +In the course of human progress, the higher centres exercise an +ever-widening attraction, and the masses of mankind are brought more and +more under their influence. + +Now, the affection of fraternal sympathy and good-will is as natural to +man, though not so immediate in him, as are any of the selfish +instincts. Objects of moral and intellectual worth call forth this +sympathy in a high and ever-increasing degree, while objects in which +self is paramount call forth just the opposite, and foster in one and +all the selfish principle, which is always one of emulation, discord, +and mutual distrust. While a salon may be administered in a generous and +disinterested manner, I should fear that it would often prove an arena +in which the most selfish leadings of human nature would assert +themselves. + +In the club, a sort of public spirit necessarily develops itself. Each +of us would like to have his place there,--yes, and his appointed little +time of shining,--but a worthy object, such as will hold together men +and women on an intellectual basis, gradually wins for itself the place +of command in the affections of those who follow it in company. Each of +these will find that his unaided efforts are insufficient for the +furthering and illustration of a great subject which all have greatly at +heart. I have been present at a forge on which the pure gold of thought +has been hammered by thinkers into the rounded sphere of an almost +perfect harmony. One and another and another gave his hit or his touch, +and when the delightful hour was at an end, each of us carried the +golden sphere away with him. + +The club which I have in mind at this moment had an unfashionable name, +and was scarcely, if at all, recognized in the general society of +Boston. It was called the Radical Club,--and the really radical feature +in it was the fact that the thoughts presented at its meetings had a +root, and were, in that sense, radical. These thoughts, entertained by +individuals of very various persuasions, often brought forth strong +oppositions of opinion. Some of us used to wax warm in the defence of +our own conviction; but our wrath was not the wrath of the peacock, +enraged to see another peacock unfold its brilliant tail, but the +concern of sincere thinkers that a subject worth discussing should not +be presented in a partial and one-sided manner, to which end, each +marked his point and said his say; and when our meeting was over, we had +all had the great instruction of looking into the minds of those to whom +truth was as dear as to ourselves, even if her aspect to them was not +exactly what it was to us. + +Here I have heard Wendell Phillips and Oliver Wendell Holmes; John Weiss +and James Freeman Clarke; Athanase Coquerel, the noble French Protestant +preacher; William Henry Channing, worthy nephew of his great uncle; +Colonel Higginson, Dr. Bartol, and many others. Extravagant things were +sometimes said, no doubt, and the equilibrium of ordinary persuasion was +not infrequently disturbed for a time; but the satisfaction of those +present when a sound basis of thought was vindicated and established is +indeed pleasant in remembrance. + +I feel tempted to introduce here one or two magic-lantern views of +certain sittings of this renowned club, of which I cherish especial +remembrance. Let me say, speaking in general terms, that, albeit the +club was more critical than devout, its criticism was rarely other than +serious and earnest. I remember that M. Coquerel's discourse there was +upon "The Protestantism of Art," and that in it he combated the +generally received idea that the church of Rome has always stood first +in the patronage and inspiration of art. The great Dutch painters, +Holbein, Rembrandt, and their fellows, were not Roman Catholics. Michael +Angelo was protestant in spirit; so was Dante. I cannot recall with much +particularity the details of things heard so many years ago, but I +remember the presence at this meeting of Charles Sumner, George Hillard, +and Dr. Hedge. Mr. Sumner declined to take any part in the discussion +which followed M. Coquerel's discourse. Colonel Higginson, who was often +present at these meetings, maintained his view that Protestantism was +simply the decline of the Christian religion. Mr. Hillard quoted St. +James's definition of religion, pure and undefiled,--to visit the +fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted +from the world. Dr. Hedge, who was about to withdraw, paused for a +moment to say: "The word 'religion' is not rightly translated there; it +should mean"--I forgot what. The doctor's tone and manner very much +impressed a friend, who afterwards said to me: "Did he not go away 'like +one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him'?" + +Or it might be that John Weiss, he whom a lady writer once described as +"four parts spirit and one part flesh," gave us his paper on Prometheus, +or one on music, or propounded his theory of how the world came into +existence. Colonel Higginson would descant upon the Greek goddesses, as +representing the feminine ideals of the Greek mythology, which he held +to be superior to the Christian ideals of womanhood,--dear Elizabeth +Peabody and I meeting him in earnest opposition. David Wasson, powerful +in verse and in prose, would speak against woman suffrage. When driven +to the wall, he confessed that he did not believe in popular suffrage at +all; and when forced to defend this position, he would instance the +wicked and ill-governed city of New York as reason enough for his views. +I remember his going away after such a discussion very abruptly, not at +all in Dr. Hedge's grand style, but rather as if he shook the dust of +our opinions from his feet; for no one of the radicals would countenance +this doctrine, and though we freely confessed the sins of New York, we +believed not a whit the less in the elective franchise, with amendments +and extensions. + +Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, one day, if I remember rightly, gave a very +succinct and clear statement of the early forms of Calvinistic doctrine +as held in this country, and Wendell Phillips lent his eloquent speech +to this and to other discussions. + +When I think of it, I believe that I had a salon once upon a time. I did +not call it so, nor even think of it as such; yet within it were +gathered people who represented many and various aspects of life. They +were real people, not lay figures distinguished by names and clothes. +The earnest humanitarian interests of my husband brought to our home a +number of persons interested in reform, education, and progress. It was +my part to mix in with this graver element as much of social grace and +geniality as I was able to gather about me. I was never afraid to bring +together persons who rarely met elsewhere than at my house, confronting +Theodore Parker with some archpriest of the old orthodoxy, or William +Lloyd Garrison with a decade, perhaps, of Beacon Street dames. A friend +said, on one of these occasions: "Our hostess delights in contrasts." I +confess that I did; but I think that my greatest pleasure was in the +lessons of human compatibility which I learned on this wise. I started, +indeed, with the conviction that thought and character are the foremost +values in society, and was not afraid nor ashamed to offer these to my +guests, with or without the stamp of fashion and position. The result +amply justified my belief. + +Some periods in our own history are more favorable to such intercourse +than others. The agony and enthusiasm of the civil war, and the long +period of ferment and disturbance which preceded and followed that great +crisis,--these social agitations penetrated the very fossils of the body +politic. People were glad to meet together, glad to find strength and +comfort among those who lived and walked by solid convictions. We cannot +go back to that time; we would not, if we could; but it was a grand time +to live and to work in. + +I am sorry when I see people build palaces in America. We do not need +them. Why should we bury fortune and life in the dead state of rooms +which are not lived in? Why should we double and triple for ourselves +the dangers of insufficient drainage or defective sanitation? Let us +have such houses as we need,--comfortable, well aired, well lighted, +adorned with such art as we can appreciate, enlivened by such company as +we can enjoy. Similarly, I believe that we should, individually, come +much nearer to the real purpose of a salon by restricting the number of +our guests and enlarging their variety. + +If we are to have a salon, do not let us think too much about its +appearance to the outside world,--how it will be reported, and extolled, +and envied. Mr. Emerson withdrew from the Boston Radical Club because +newspaper reports of its meetings were allowed. We live too much in +public to-day, and desire too much the seal of public notice. + +There is not room in our short human life for both shams and realities. +We can neither pursue nor possess both. I think of this now entirely +with application to the theme under consideration. Let us not exercise +sham hospitality to sham friends. Let the heart of our household be +sincere; let our home affections expand to a wider human brotherhood and +sisterhood. Let us be willing to take trouble to gather our friends +together, and to offer them such entertainment as we can, remembering +that the best entertainment is mutual. + +But do not let us offend ourselves or our friends with the glare of +lights, the noise of numbers, in order that all may suffer a tedious and +joyless being together, and part as those who have contributed to each +other's _ennui_, all sincere and reasonable intercourse having been +wanting in the general encounter. + +We should not feel bound, either, to the literal imitation of any facts +or features of European life which may not fit well upon our own. In +many countries, the currents of human life have become so deepened and +strengthened by habit and custom as to render change very difficult, and +growth almost impossible. In our own, on the contrary, life is fresh and +fluent. Its boundaries should be elastic, capable even of indefinite +expansion. + +In the older countries of which I speak, political power and social +recognition are supposed to emanate from some autocratic source, and the +effort and ambition of all naturally look toward that source, and, +knowing none other, feel a personal interest in maintaining its +ascendency, the statu quo. In our own broad land, power and light have +no such inevitable abiding-place, but may emanate from an endless +variety of points and personalities. + +The other mode of living may have much to recommend it for those to whom +it is native and inherited, but it is not for us. And when we apologize +for our needs and deficiencies, it should not be on the ground of our +youth and inexperience. If the settlement of our country is recent, we +have behind us all the experience of the human race, and are bound to +represent its fuller and riper manhood. Our seriousness is sometimes +complained of, usually by people whose jests and pleasantries fail to +amuse us. Let us not apologize for this, nor envy any nation its power +of trifling and of _persiflage_. We have mighty problems to solve; great +questions to answer. The fate of the world's future is concerned in what +we shall do or leave undone. + +We are a people of workers, and we love work--shame on him who is +ashamed of it! When we are found, on our own or other shores, idling our +life away, careless of vital issues, ignorant of true principles, then +may we apologize, then let us make haste to amend. + + + + +Aristophanes + + +WHEN I learned, last season, that the attention of the school[A] this +year would be in a good degree given to the dramatists of ancient +Greece, I was seized with a desire to speak of one of these, to whom I +owe a debt of gratitude. This is the great Aristophanes, the first, and +the most illustrious, of comic writers for the stage,--first and best, +at least, of those known to Western literature. + +In the chance talk of people of culture, one hears of him all one's life +long, as exceedingly amusing. From my brothers in college, I learned the +"Frog Chorus" before I knew even a letter of the Greek alphabet. Many a +decade after this, I walked in the theatre of Bacchus at Athens, and +seeing the beauty of the marble seats, still ranged in perfect order, +and feeling the glory and dignity of the whole surrounding, I seemed to +guess that the comedies represented there were not desired to amuse idle +clowns nor to provoke vulgar laughter. + +[Note A] Read before the Concord School of Philosophy. + +At the foot of the Acropolis, with the Parthenon in sight and the +colossal statue of Minerva towering above the glittering temples, the +poet and his audience surely had need to bethink themselves of the +wisdom which lies in laughter, of the ethics of the humorous,--a topic +well worth the consideration of students of philosophy. The ethics of +the humorous, the laughter of the gods! "He that sitteth in the heavens +shall laugh them to scorn." Did not even the gentle Christ intend satire +when, after recognizing the zeal with which an ox or an ass would be +drawn out of a pit on the sacred day, he asked: "And shall not this +woman, whom Satan hath bound, lo! these eighteen years, be loosed from +her infirmity on the sabbath day?" + +When a Greek tragedy is performed before us, we are amazed at its force, +its coherence, and its simplicity. What profound study and quick sense +of the heroic in nature must have characterized the man who, across the +great gulf of centuries, can so sweep our heart-strings, and draw from +them such responsive music! Our praise of these great works almost +sounds conceited. It would be more fitting for us to sit in silence and +bewail our own smallness. Comedy, too, has her grandeur; and when she +walks the stage in robe and buskins, she, too, is to receive the highest +crown, and her lessons are to be laid to heart. + +I will venture a word here concerning the subjective side of comedy. Is +it the very depth and quick of our self-love which is reached by the +subtle sting which calls up a blush where no sermonizing would have that +effect? Deep satire touches the heroic within us. "Miserable sinners are +ye all," says the preacher, "vanity of vanities!" and we sit +contentedly, and say Amen. But here comes some one who sets up our +meannesses and incongruities before us so that they topple over and +tumble down. And then, strange to say, we feel in ourselves this same +power; and considering our follies in the same light, we are compelled +to deride, and also to forsake them. + +The miseries of war and the desirableness of peace were impressed +strongly on the mind of Aristophanes. The Peloponnesian War dragged on +from year to year with varying fortune; and though victory often crowned +the arms of the Athenians, its glory was dearly paid for by the +devastation which the Lacedaemonians inflicted upon the territory of +Attica. "The Acharnians," "The Knights," and "Peace" deal with this +topic in various forms. In the first of these is introduced, as the +chief character, Dikaeopolis, a country gentleman who, in consequence of +the Spartan invasion, has been forced to forsake his estates, and to +take shelter in the city. He naturally desires the speedy conclusion of +hostilities, and to this end attends the assembly, determined, as he +says: + + To bawl, to abuse, to interrupt the speakers + Whenever I hear a word of any kind, + Except for an immediate peace. + +This method reminds us of the obstructionists in the British Parliament. +One man speaks of himself as loathing the city and longing to return + + To my poor village and my farm + That never used to cry: "Come buy my charcoal," + Nor "buy my oil," nor "buy my anything," + But gave me what I wanted, freely and fairly, + Clear of all cost, with never a word of buying. + +After various laughable adventures, Dikaeopolis finds it possible to +conclude a truce with the invaders on his own account, in which his +neighbors, the Acharnians, are not included. He returns to his farm, and +goes forth with wife and daughter to perform the sacrifice fitting for +the occasion. + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + Silence! Move forward, the Canephora. + You, Xanthias, follow close behind her there + In a proper manner, with your pole and emblem. + + WIFE + + Set down the basket, daughter, and begin + The ceremony. + + DAUGHTER + + Give me the cruet, mother, + And let me pour it on the holy cake. + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + O blessed Bacchus, what a joy it is + To go thus unmolested, undisturbed, + My wife, my children, and my family, + With our accustomed joyful ceremony, + To celebrate thy festival in my farm. + Well, here's success to the truce of thirty years. + + WIFE + + Mind your behavior, child. Carry the basket + In a modest, proper manner; look demure; + Mind your gold trinkets, they'll be stolen else. + +Dikaeopolis now intones a hymn to Bacchus, but is interrupted by the +violent threats of his war-loving neighbors, the Acharnians, who break +out in injurious language, and threaten the life of the miscreant who +has made peace with the enemies of his country solely for his own +interests. With a good deal of difficulty, he persuades the enraged +crowd to allow him to argue his case before them, and this fact makes us +acquainted with another leading trait in Aristophanes; viz., his polemic +opposition to the poet Euripides. Dikaeopolis, wishing to make a +favorable impression upon the rustics, hies to the house of Euripides, +whose servant parleys with him in true transcendental language. + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + Euripides within? + + SERVANT + + Within, and not within. You comprehend me? + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + Within and not within! What do you mean? + + SERVANT + + His outward man + Is in the garret writing tragedy; + While his essential being is abroad + Pursuing whimsies in the world of fancy. + +The visitor now calls aloud upon the poet: + + Euripides, Euripides, come down, + If ever you came down in all your life! + 'Tis I, Dikaeopolis, from Chollidae. + +This Chollidae probably corresponded to the Pea Ridge often quoted +in our day. Euripides declines to come down, but is presently made +visible by some device of the scene-shifter. In the dialogue that +follows, Aristophanes ridicules the personages and the costumes +brought upon the stage by Euripides, and reflects unhandsomely upon +the poet's mother, who was said to have been a vender of +vegetables. Dikaeopolis does not seek to borrow poetry or eloquence +from Euripides, but prays him to lend him "a suit of tatters from a +worn-out tragedy." + + For mercy's sake, for I'm obliged to make + A speech in my own defence before the chorus, + A long pathetic speech, this very day, + And if it fails, the doom of death betides me. + +Euripides now asks what especial costume would suit the need of +Dikaeopolis, and calls over the most pitiful names in his tragedies: +"Do you want the dress of Oineos?"--"Oh, no! something much more +wretched."--"Phoenix? "--"No; much worse than +Phoenix."--"Philocletes?"--"No."--"Lame Bellerophon?" Dikaeopolis +says: + + 'Twas not Bellerophon, but very like him, + A kind of smooth, fine-spoken character; + A beggar into the bargain, and a cripple + With a grand command of words, bothering and begging. + +Euripides by this description recognizes the personage intended, +_viz._, Telephus, the physician, and orders his servant to go and +fetch the ragged suit, which he will find "next to the tatters of +Thyestes, just over Ino's." Dikaeopolis exclaims, on seeing the mass +of holes and patches, but asks, further, a little Mysian bonnet for +his head, a beggar's staff, a dirty little basket, a broken pipkin; +all of which Euripides grants, to be rid of him. All this insolence +the visitor sums up in the following lines:-- + + I wish I may be hanged, my dear Euripides, + If ever I trouble you for anything, + Except one little, little, little boon, + A single lettuce from your mother's stall. + +This is more than Euripides can bear, and the gates are now shut upon +the intruder. + +Later in the play, Dikaeopolis appears in company with the General +Lamachus. A sudden call summons this last to muster his men and march +forth to repel a party of marauders. Almost at the same moment, +Dikaeopolis is summoned to attend the feast of Bacchus, and to bring his +best cookery with him. In the dialogue that follows, the valiant soldier +and the valiant trencherman appear in humorous contrast. + + LAMACHUS + + Boy, boy, bring out here my haversack. + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + Boy, boy, hither bring my dinner service. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring salt flavored with thyme, boy, and onions. + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + Bring me a cutlet. Onions make me ill. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring hither pickled fish, stale. + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + And to me a fat pudding. I will cook it yonder. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring me my plumes and my helmet. + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + Bring me doves and thrushes. + + LAMACHUS + + Fair and white is the plume of the ostrich. + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + Fair and yellow is the flesh of the dove. + + LAMACHUS + + O man! leave off laughing at my weapons. + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + O man! don't you look at my thrushes. + + LAMACHUS + + Bring the case that holds my plumes. + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + And bring me a dish of hare. + + LAMACHUS + + But the moths have eaten my crest. + +Dikaeopolis makes some insolent rejoinder, at which the general takes +fire. He calls for his lance; Dikaeopolis, for the spit, which he frees +from the roast meat. Lamachus raises his Gorgon-orbed shield; Dikaeopolis +lifts a full-orbed pancake. Lamachus then performs a mock act of +divination:-- + + Pour oil upon the shield. What do I trace + In the divining mirror? 'Tis the face + Of an old coward, fortified with fear, + That sees his trial for desertion near. + + DIKAEOPOLIS + + Pour honey on the pancake. What appears? + A comely personage, advanced in years, + Firmly resolved to laugh at and defy + Both Lamachus and the Gorgon family. + +In "The Frogs," god and demigod, Bacchus and Hercules, are put upon the +stage with audacious humor. The first has borrowed the costume of the +second, in which unfitting garb he knocks at Hercules' door on his way +to Hades, his errand being to find and bring back Euripides. The dearth +of clever poets is the reason alleged for this undertaking. Hercules +suggests to him various poets who are still on earth. Bacchus condemns +them as "warblers of the grove; poor, puny wretches!" He now asks +Hercules for introductions to his friends in the lower regions, and for + + Any communication about the country, + The roads, the streets, the bridges, public houses + And lodgings, free from bugs and fleas, if possible. + +Hercules mentions various ways of arriving at the infernal regions: "The +hanging road,--rope and noose?"--"That's too stifling."--"The pestle and +mortar, then,--the beaten road?"--"No; that gives one cold feet."--"Go, +then, to the tower of the Keramicus, and throw yourself headlong." No; +Bacchus does not wish to have his brains dashed out. He would go by the +road which Hercules took. Of this, Hercules gives an alarming account, +beginning with the bottomless lake and the boat of Charon. Bacchus +determines to set forth, but is detained by the recalcitrance of his +servant, Xanthias, who refuses to carry his bundle any further. + +A funeral now comes across the stage. Bacchus asks the dead man if he is +willing to carry some bundles to Hell for him. The dead man demands two +drachmas for the service. Bacchus offers him ninepence, which he angrily +refuses, and is carried out of sight. Charon presently appears, and +makes known, like a good ferryman, the points at which he will deliver +passengers. + + Who wants the ferryman? + Anybody waiting to remove from the sorrows of life? + A passage to Lethe's wharf? to Cerberus' Beach? + To Tartarus? to Tenaros? to Perdition? + +Just so, in my youth, sailing on the Hudson, one heard all night the +sound of Peekskill landing! Fishkill landing! Rhinebeck landing!--with +darkness and swish of steam quite infernal enough. + +Charon takes Bacchus on board, but compels him to do his part of the +rowing, promising him: "As soon as you begin you shall have music that +will teach you to keep time." + +This music is the famous "Chorus of the Frogs," beginning, "Brokekekesh, +koash, koash," and running through many lines, with this occasional +refrain, of which Bacchus soon tires, as he does of the oar. His servant +Xanthias is obliged to make the journey by land and on foot, Charon +bidding him wait for his master at the Stone of Repentance, by the +Slough of Despond, beyond the Tribulations. After encountering the +Empousa, a nursery hobgoblin, they meet the spirits of the initiated, +singing hymns to Bacchus--whom they invoke as Jacchus--and to Ceres. +This part of the play, intended, Frere says, to ridicule the Eleusinian +mysteries, is curiously human in its incongruity,--a jumble of the +beautiful and the trivial. I must quote from it the closing strophe:-- + + Let us hasten, let us fly + Where the lovely meadows lie, + Where the living waters flow, + Where the roses bloom and blow. + Heirs of immortality, + Segregated safe and pure, + Easy, sorrowless, secure, + Since our earthly course is run, + We behold a brighter sun. + +Such sweet words we to-day could expect to hear from the lips of our own +dear ones, gone before. + +Very incongruous is certainly this picture of Bacchus, in a cowardly and +ribald state of mind, listening to the hymn which celebrates his divine +aspect. Jacchus, whom the spirits invoke, is the glorified Bacchus, the +highest ideal of what was vital religion in those days. But the god +himself is not professionally, only personally, present, and, wearing +the disguise of Hercules, in no way notices or responds to the strophes +which invoke him. He asks the band indeed to direct him to Pluto's +house, which turns out to be near at hand. + +Before its door, Bacchus is seized with such a fit of timidity that, +instead of knocking, he asks his servant to tell him how the native +inhabitants of the region knock at doors. Reproved by the servant, he +knocks, and announces himself as the valiant Hercules. AEacus, the +porter, now rushes out upon him with violent abuse, reviling him for +having stolen, or attempted to steal, the watch-dog, Cerberus, and +threatening him with every horror which Hell can inflict. AEacus departs, +and Bacchus persuades his servant to don the borrowed garb of Hercules, +while he loads himself with the baggage which the other was carrying. +Proserpine, however, sends her maid to invite the supposed Hercules to a +feast of dainties. Xanthias now assumes the manners befitting the hero, +at which Bacchus orders him to change dresses with him once more, and +assume his own costume, which he does. Hardly have they done this, when +Bacchus is again set upon by two frantic women, who shriek in his ears +the deeds of gluttony committed by Hercules in Hades, and not paid for. + + There; that's he + That came to our house, ate those nineteen loaves. + Aye; sure enough. That's he, the very man; + And a dozen and a half of cutlets and fried chops, + At a penny ha' penny apiece. And all the garlic, + And the good green cheese that he gorged at once. + And then, when I called for payment, he looked fierce + And stared me in the face, and grinned and roared. + +The women threaten the false Hercules with the pains and penalties of +swindling. He now pretends to soliloquize: "I love poor Xanthias dearly; +that I do." + +"Yes," says Xanthias, "I know why; but it's of no use. I won't act +Hercules." Xanthias, however, allows himself to be persuaded, and when +AEacus, appearing with a force, cries: "Arrest me there that fellow that +stole the dog," Xanthias contrives to make an effectual resistance. +Having thus gained time, he assures AEacus that he never stole so much as +a hair of his dog's tail; but gives him leave to put Bacchus, his +supposed slave, to the torture, in order to elicit from him the truth. +AEacus, softened by this proposal, asks in which way the master would +prefer to have his slave tortured. Xanthias replies: + + In your own way, with the lash, with knots and screws, + With the common, usual, customary tortures, + With the rack, with the water torture, any sort of way, + With fire and vinegar--all sorts of ways. + +Bacchus, thus driven to the wall, proclaims his divinity, and claims +Xanthias as his slave. The latter suggests that if Bacchus is a +divinity, he may be beaten without injury, as he will not feel it. +Bacchus retorts, "If you are Hercules, so may you." AEacus, to ascertain +the truth, impartially belabors them both. Each, in turn, cries out, and +pretends to have quoted from the poets. AEacus, unable to decide which is +the god and which the impostor, brings them both before Proserpine and +Pluto. + +In the course of a delicious dialogue between the two servants, AEacus +and Xanthias, it is mentioned that Euripides, on coming to the shades, +had driven AEschylus from the seat of honor at Pluto's board, holding +himself to be the worthier poet. AEschylus has objected to this, and the +matter is now to be settled by a trial of skill in which Bacchus is to +be the umpire. + +The shades of Euripides and AEschylus appear in the next scene, with +Bacchus between them. AEschylus wishes the trial had taken place +elsewhere. Why? Because while his tragedies live on earth, those of +Euripides are dead, and have descended with him to bear him company in +Hell. The encounter of wits between the two is of the grandiose comic, +each taunting the other with his faults of composition. Euripides says +of AEschylus: + + He never used a simple word + But bulwarks and scamanders and hippogriffs and Gorgons, + Bloody, remorseless phrases. + +AEschylus rejoins: + + Well, then, thou paltry wretch, explain + What were your own devices? + +Euripides says that he found the Muse + + Puffed and pampered + With pompous sentences, a cumbrous huge virago. + +In order to bring her to a more genteel figure: + + I fed her with plain household phrase and cool familiar salad, + With water gruel episode, with sentimental jelly, + With moral mince-meat, till at length I brought her into compass. + I kept my plots distinct and clear to prevent confusion. + My leading characters rehearsed their pedigrees for prologues. + +"For all this," says AEschylus, "you ought to have been hanged." AEschylus +now speaks of the grand old days, of the great themes and works of early +poetry: + + Such is the duty, the task of a poet, + Fulfilling in honor his duty and trust. + Look to traditional history, look; + See what a blessing illustrious poets + Conferred on mankind in the centuries past. + Orpheus instructed mankind in religion, + Reclaimed them from bloodshed and barbarous rites. + Musaeus delivered the doctrine of medicine, + And warnings prophetic for ages to come. + Next came old Hesiod, teaching us husbandry, + Rural economy, rural astronomy, + Homely morality, labor and thrift. + Homer himself, our adorable Homer, + What was his title to praise and renown? + What but the worth of the lessons he taught us, + Discipline, arms, and equipment of war. + +And here the poet comes to speak of a question which is surely prominent +to-day in the minds of thoughtful people. AEschylus, in his argument +against Euripides, speaks of the noble examples which he himself has +brought upon the stage, reproaches his adversary with the objectionable +stories of Sthenobaeus and Phaedra, with which he, Euripides has corrupted +the public taste. + +Euripides alleges in his own defence that he did not invent those +stories. "Phaedra's affair was a matter of fact." AEschylus rejoins: + + A fact with a vengeance, but horrible facts + Should be buried in silence, not bruited abroad, + Nor brought forth on the stage, nor emblazoned in poetry. + Children and boys have a teacher assigned them; + The bard is a master for manhood and youth, + Bound to instruct them in virtue and truth + Beholden and bound. + +I do not know which of the plays of Aristophanes is considered the best +by those who are competent to speak authoritatively upon their merits; +but of those that I know, this drama of "The Frogs" seems to me to +exhibit most fully the scope and extent of his comic power. +Condescending in parts to what is called low comedy,--_i.e._, the +farcical, based upon the sense of what all know and experience,--it +rises elsewhere to the highest domain of literary criticism and +expression. + +The action between Bacchus and his slave forcibly reminds us of +Cervantes, though master and man alike have in them more of Sancho Panza +than of Quixote. In the journey to the palace of Pluto, I see the +prototype of what the great mediaeval poet called "The Divine Comedy." I +find in both the same weird imagination, the same curious interbraiding +of the ridiculous and the grandiose. This, of course, with the +difference that the Greek poet affords us only a brief view of Hell, +while Dante detains us long enough to give us a realizing sense of what +it is, or might be. This same mingling of the awful and the grotesque +suggests to me passages in our own Hawthorne, similarly at home with +the supernatural, which underlies the story of "The Scarlet Letter," +and flashes out in "The Celestial Railroad." But I must come back to +Dante, who can amuse us with the tricks of demons, and can lift us to +the music of the spheres. So Aristophanes can show us, on the one hand, +the humorous relations of a coward and a clown; and, on the other, can +put into the mouth of the great AEschylus such words as he might fitly +have spoken. + +Perhaps the very extravagance of fun is carried even further in the +drama of "The Birds" than in those already quoted from. Its conceits +are, at any rate, most original, and, so far as I know, it is without +prototype or parallel in its matter and manner. + +The argument of the play can be briefly stated. Peisthetairus, an +Athenian citizen, dissatisfied with the state of things in his own +country, visits the Hoopoe with the intention of securing his +assistance in founding a new state, the dominion of the birds. He takes +with him a good-natured simpleton of a friend, Well-hoping, by name. Now +the Hoopoe in question, according to the old legend, had been known in +a previous state of being as Tereus, King of Thrace, and the +metamorphosis which changed him to a bird had changed his subjects also +into representatives of the various feathered tribes. These, however, +far from sharing the polite and hospitable character of their master, +become enraged at the intrusion of the strangers, and propose to attack +them in military style. The visitors seize a spit, the lid of a pot, and +various other culinary articles, and prepare to make what defence they +may, while the birds "present beaks," and prepare to charge. The +Hoopoe here interposes, and claims their attention for the project +which Peisthetairus has to unfold. + +The wily Athenian begins his address with prodigious flattery, calling +the feathered folk "a people of sovereigns," more ancient of origin than +man, his deities, or his world. In support of this last clause, he +quotes a fable of AEsop, who narrates that the lark was embarrassed to +bury his father, because the earth did not exist at the time of his +death. Sovereignty, of old, belonged to the birds. The stride of the +cock sufficiently shows his royal origin, and his authority is still +made evident by the alacrity with which the whole slumbering world +responds to his morning reveille. The kite once reigned in Greece; the +cuckoo in Sidon and Egypt. Jupiter has usurped the eagle's command, but +dares not appear without him, while + + Each of the gods had his separate fowl,-- + Apollo the hawk and Minerva the owl. + +Peisthetairus proposes that, in order to recover their lost sovereignty, +the birds shall build in the air a strongly fortified city. This done, +they shall send a herald to Jove to demand his immediate abdication. If +the celestials refuse to govern themselves accordingly, they are to be +blockaded. This blockade seems presently to obtain, and heavenly Iris, +flying across the sky on a message from the gods, is caught, arraigned, +and declared worthy of death,--the penalty of non-observance. The +prospective city receives the name of "Nephelococcagia," and this is +scarcely decided upon before a poet arrives to celebrate in an ode the +mighty Nephelococcagia state. + +Then comes a soothsayer to order the appropriate sacrifices; then an +astronomer, with instruments to measure the due proportions of the city; +then a would-be parricide, who announces himself as a lover of the bird +empire, and especially of that law which allows a man to beat his +father. Peisthetairus confesses that, in the bird domain, the chicken is +sometimes applauded for clapper-clawing the old cock. When, however, his +visitor expresses a wish to throttle his parent and seize upon his +estate, Peisthetairus refers him to the law of the storks, by which the +son is under obligation to feed and maintain the parent. This law, he +says, prevails in Nephelococcagia, and the parricide accordingly betakes +himself elsewhere. + +All this admirable fooling ends in the complete success of the birds. +Jupiter sends an embassy to treat for peace, and by a curious juggle, +imitating, no doubt, the political processes of those days, +Peisthetairus becomes recognized as the lawful sovereign of +Nephelococcagia, and receives, on his demand, the hand of Jupiter's +favorite queen in marriage. + +I have given my time too fully to the Greek poet to be able to make any +extended comparison between his works and those of the Elizabethan +dramatists. But from the plays which trifle so with the grim facts of +nature, I can fly to the "Midsummer Night's Dream," and alight for a +moment on one of its golden branches. Shakespeare's Athenian clowns are +rather Aristophanic in color. The play of "Pyramus and Thisbe" might +have formed one interlude on that very stage which had in sight the +glories of the Parthenon. The exquisite poetry which redeems their +nonsense has its parallel in the lovely "Chorus of the Clouds," the ode +to Peace, and other glimpses of the serious Aristophanes, which here and +there look out from behind the mask of the comedian. + +I am very doubtful whether good Greek scholars will think my selections +given here at all the best that could be made. I will remind them of an +Eastern tale in which a party of travellers were led, in the dark, +through an enchanted region in which showers of some unknown substance +fell around them, while a voice cried: "They that do not gather any will +grieve, and they who do gather will grieve that they did not gather +more, for these that fall are diamonds." So, of these bright diamonds of +matchless Greek wit, I have tried to gather some, but may well say I +grieve that I have not gathered more, and more wisely. + +These works are to us exquisite pieces of humoristic extravagance, but +to the people of the time they were far more than this; _viz._, the +lesson of ridicule for what was tasteless and ridiculous in Athenian +society, and the punishment of scathing satire for what was unworthy. +Annotators tell us that the plays are full of allusions to prominent +characters of the day. Some of these, as is well known, the poet sets +upon the stage in masquerades which reveal, more than they conceal, +their true personality. For the demagogue Cleon, and for the playwright +Euripides, he has no mercy. + +The patient student of Aristophanes and his commentators will acquire a +very competent knowledge of the politics of the wise little city at the +time of which he treats, also of its literary personages, pedants or +sophists. The works give us, I think, a very favorable impression of the +public to whose apprehension they were presented,--a quick-witted +people, surely, able to follow the sudden turns and doublings of the +poet's fancy; not to be surprised into stupidity by any ambush sprung +upon them out of obscurity. + +Compare with this the difficulty of commending anything worth thinking +of to the attention of a modern theatre audience. It is true that much +of this Greek wit must needs have been _caviare_ to the multitude, but +its seasoning, no doubt, penetrated the body politic. I remember, a +score or more of years ago, that a friend said that it was good and +useful to have some public characters Beecherized, alluding to the broad +and bold presentment of them given from time to time by our great +clerical humorist, Henry Ward Beecher. Very efficacious, one thinks, +must have been this scourge which the Greek comic muse wielded so +merrily, but so unmercifully. + +Although Aristophanes is very severe upon individuals, he does not, I +think, foster any class enmities, except, perhaps, against the sophists. +Although a city man, he treats the rustic population with great +tenderness, and the glimpses he gives us of country life are sweet and +genial. In this, he contrasts with the French playwrights of our time, +to whom city life is everything, and the province synonymous with all +that is dull and empty of interest. + +How can I dismiss the comedy of that day without one word concerning its +immortal tragedy,--Socrates, the divine man, compared and comparable to +Christ, chained in his dungeon and condemned to die? The most blameless +life could not save that sacred head. Its illumination, in which we sit +here to-day, drew to it the shafts of superstition, malice, and +wickedness. The comic poet might present on the stage such pictures of +the popular deities as would make the welkin ring with the roar of +laughter. This was not impiety. But Socrates, showing no disrespect to +these idols of the current persuasion, only daring to discern beyond +them God in his divineness, truth in her awful beauty,--_he_ must die +the death of the profane. + +It is a bitter story, surely, but "it must needs be that offences come." +Where should we be to-day if no one in human history had loved high +doctrine well enough to die for it? At such cost were these great +lessons given us. How can we thank God or man enough for them? + +The athletics of human thought are the true Olympian games. Human error +is wise and logical in its way. It confronts its antagonist with +terrific weapons; it seizes and sways him with a Titanic will force. It +knows where to attack, and how. It knows the spirit that would be death +to it, could that spirit prevail. It closes in the death grapple; the +arena is red with the blood of its victim, but from that blood immortal +springs a new world, a new society. + +One word, in conclusion, about the Greek language. Valuable as +translations are, they can never, to the student, take the place of +originals. I have stumbled through these works with the lamest +knowledge of Greek, and with no one to help me. I have quoted from +admirable renderings of them into English. Yet, even in such delicate +handling as that of Frere, the racy quality of the Greek phrase +evaporates, like some subtle perfume; while the music of the grand +rhythm, which the ear seems able to get through the eye, is lost. + +The Greek tongue belongs to the history of thought. The language that +gives us such distinctions as _nous_ and _logos_, as _gy_ and _kosmos_, +has been the great pedagogue of our race, has laid the foundations of +modern thought. Let us, by all means, help ourselves with Frere, with +Jowett, and a multitude of other literary benefactors. But let us all +get a little Greek on our own account, for the sake of our Socrates and +of our Christ. And as the great but intolerant Agassiz had it for his +motto that "species do not transmute," let this school have among its +mottoes this one: "True learning does not de-Hellenize." + + + + +The Halfness of Nature + + +THE great office of ethics and aesthetics is the reconciliation of God +and man; that is, of the divine and disinterested part of human nature +with its selfish and animal opposite. + +This opposition exists, primarily, in the individual; secondarily, in +the society formed out of individuals. Human institutions typify the +two, with their mutual influence and contradictions. The church +represents the one; the market, the other. The battle-field and the +hospital, the school and the forum, are further terms of the same +antithesis. Nature does so much for the man, and the material she +furnishes is so indispensable to all the constructions which we found +upon it, that the last thing a teacher can afford to do is to undervalue +her gifts. When critical agencies go so far as to do this, revolution is +imminent: Nature reasserts herself. + +Equally impotent is Nature where institutions do not supply the help of +Art. When this state of things perseveres, she dwindles instead of +growing. She becomes meagre, not grandiose. Men hunt, but do not +cultivate. Women drudge and bear offspring, but neither comfort nor +inspire. + +Let us examine a little into what Nature gives, and into what she does +not give. In the domain of thought and religion, people dispute much on +this head, and are mostly ranged in two parties, of which one claims for +her everything, while the other allows her nothing. + +In this controversy, we can begin with one point beyond dispute. Nature +gives the man, but she certainly does not give the clothes. Having +received his own body, he has to go far and work hard in order to cover +it. + +Nature again scarcely gives human food. Roots, berries, wild fruit, and +raw flesh would not make a very luxurious diet for the king of creation. +Even this last staple Nature does not supply gratis, and the art of +killing is man's earliest discovery in the lesson of self-sustenance. So +Death becomes the succursal of life. The sense of this originates, +first, the art of hunting; secondly, the art of war. + +Nature gives the religious impulse, originating in the further pole of +primal thought. The alternation of night and day may first suggest the +opposition of things seen and not seen. The world exists while the man +sleeps--exists independently of him. Sleep and its dreams are mysterious +to the waking man. His first theology is borrowed from this conjunction +of invisible might and irrational intellection. + +But Nature does not afford the church. Art does this, laboring long and +finishing never,--coming to a platform of rest, but coming at the same +time to a higher view, inciting to higher effort. Temple after temple is +raised. Juggernaut, Jove, Jesus! India does not get beyond Juggernaut. +Rome could not get beyond Jove. Christendom is far behind Jesus. In all +religions, Art founds on Nature, and aspires to super-nature. In all, +Art asserts the superiority of thought over unthought, of measure over +excess, of conscience over confidence. The latest evangel alone supplies +a method of popularizing thought, of beautifying measure, of harmonizing +conscience, and is, therefore, the religion that uses most largely from +the race, and returns most largely to it. + +Time permits me only a partial review of this great system of gifts and +deficiencies. The secret of progress seems an infinitesimal seed, +dropped in some bosoms to bear harvest for all. Seed and soil together +give the product which is called genius. But genius is only half of the +great man. No one works so hard as he does to obtain the result +corresponding to his natural dimensions and obligations. The gift and +the capacity to employ it are simply boons of Nature. The resolution to +do so, the patience and perseverance, the long tasks bravely undertaken +and painfully carried through--these come of the individual action of +the moral man, and constitute his moral life. The wonderfully clever +people we all know, who fill the society toy-shop with what is needed in +the society workshop, are people who have not consummated this +resolution, who have not had this bravery, this perseverance. Death does +not waste more of immature life than Indolence wastes of immature +genius. The law of labor in ethics and aesthetics corresponds to the +energetic necessities of hygiene, and is the most precious and +indispensable gift of one generation to its successors. + +In ethics, Nature supplies the first half, but Religion, or the law of +duty, supplies the other. Nature gives the enthusiasm of love, but not +the tender and persevering culture of friendship, which carries the +light of that tropical summer into the winter of age, the icy recesses +of death. + +Art has no need to intervene in order to bring together those whom +passion inspires, whom inclination couples. But in crude Nature, passion +itself remains selfish, brutal, and short-lived. + +The tender and grateful recollection of transient raptures, the culture +and growth of generous sympathies, resulting in noble co-operation--Art +brings these out of Nature by the second birth, of which Christ knew, +and at which Nicodemus marvelled. + +Nature gives the love of offspring. Human parents share the passionate +attachment of other animals for their young. With the regulation of +this attachment Art has much to do. You love the child when it delights +you by day; you must also love it when it torments you at night. This +latter love is not against Nature, but Conscience has to apply the whip +and spur a little, or the mother will take such amusement as the child +can afford, and depute to others the fatigues which are its price. + +A graver omission yet Nature makes. She does not teach children to +reverence and cherish their parents when the relation between them +reverses itself in the progress of time, and those who once had all to +give have all to ask. Moses was not obliged to say: "Parents, love your +children." But he was obliged to say: "Honor thy father and thy mother," +in all the thunder of the Decalogue. The gentler and finer spirits value +the old for their useful council and inestimable experience. + +You know to-day; but your father can show you yesterday, bright with +living traditions which history neglects and which posterity loses. We +do not profit as we might by this source of knowledge. Elders question +the young for their instruction. Young people, in turn, should question +elders on their own account, not allowing the personal values of +experience to go down to the grave unrealized. But Youth is cruel and +remorseless. The young, in their fulness of energy, in their desire for +scope and freedom, are often in unseemly haste to see the old depart. + +Here Religion comes in with strong hands to moderate the tyrannous +impulse, the controversy of the green with the ripe fruit. All religions +agree in this intervention. The worship of ancestors in the Confucian +ethics shows this consciousness and intention. The aristocratic +traditions of rank and race are an invention to the same end. Vanity, +too, will often lead a man to glorify himself in the past and future, as +well as in the present. + +Still, the instinct to get rid of elders is a feature in unreclaimed +nature. It shows the point at which the imperative suggestions of +personal feeling stop,--the spot where Nature leaves a desert in order +that Art may plant a garden. "Why don't you give me a carriage, now?" +said an elderly wife to an elderly husband. "When we married, you would +scarcely let me touch the ground with my feet. I need a conveyance now +far more than I did then." "That was the period of my young enthusiasm," +replied the husband. The statement is one of unusual candor, but the +fact is one of not unusual occurrence. + +I think that in the present study I have come upon the true and simple +sense of the parable of the talents. Of every human good, the initial +half is bestowed by Nature. But the value of this half is not realized +until Labor shall have acquired the other half. Talents are one thing: +the use of them is another. The first depend on natural conditions; the +second, on moral processes. The greatest native facilities are useless +to mankind without the discipline of Art. So in an undisciplined life, +the good that is born with a man dwindles and decays. The sketch of +childhood, never filled out, fades in the objectless vacancy of manhood; +and from the man is "taken away even that which he seemeth to have." Not +judicial vengeance this, but inevitable consequence. + +Education should clearly formulate this problem: Given half of a man or +woman, to make a whole one. This, I need not say, is to be done by +development, not by addition. Kant says that knowledge grows _per intus +susceptionem_, and not _per appositionem_. The knowledges that you +adjoin to memory do not fill out the man unless you reach, in his own +mind, the faculty that generates thought. A single reason perceived by +him either in numbers or in speech will outweigh in importance all the +rules which memory can be taught to supply. With little skill and much +perseverance, Education hammers upon the man until somewhere she strikes +a nerve, and the awakened interest leads him to think out something for +himself. Otherwise, she leaves the man a polite muddle, who makes his +best haste to forget facts in forms, and who cancels the enforced +production of his years of pedagogy by a lifelong non-production. + +What Nature is able to give, she does give with a wealth and persistence +almost pathetic. The good gifts afloat in the world which never take +form under the appropriate influence, the good material which does not +build itself into the structures of society,--you and I grieve over +these sometimes. And here I come upon a doctrine which Fourier, I think, +does not state correctly. He maintains that inclinations which appear +vicious and destructive in society as at present constituted would +become highly useful in his ideal society. I should prefer to state the +matter thus: The given talent, not receiving its appropriate education, +becomes a negative instead of a positive, an evil instead of a good. +Here we might paraphrase the Scripture saying, and affirm that the stone +which is not built into the corner becomes a stumbling-block for the +wayfarer to fall over. So great mischief lies in those uneducated, +unconsecrated talents! This cordial companion becomes a sot. This +could-be knight remains a prize-fighter. This incipient mathematician +does not get beyond cards or billiards. This clever mechanic picks locks +and robs a bank, instead of endowing one. + +Modern theories of education do certainly point toward the study, by the +party educating, of the party appointed to undergo education. But this +education of others is a very complex matter, not to be accomplished +unless the educator educates himself in the light afforded him by his +pupils. The boys or girls committed to you may study what you will: be +sure, first of all, that you study them to your best ability. Education +in this respect is forced to a continual rectification of her processes. +The greatest power and resource are needed to awaken and direct the +energies of the young. No speech in Congress is so important as are the +lessons in the primary school; no pulpit has so great a field of labor +as the Sunday school. The Turkish government showed a cruel wisdom of +instinct when it levied upon Greece the tribute of Christian children to +form its corps of Janissaries. It recognized alike the Greek superiority +of race, and the invaluable opportunity of training afforded by +childhood. + +The work, then, of education demands an investigation of the elements +which Nature has granted to the individual, with the view of matching +that in which he is wanting with that which he has. I have heard of +lovers who, in plighting their faith, broke a coin in halves, whose +matching could only take place with their meeting. In true education as +in the love, these halves should correspond. + +"What hast thou?" is, then, the first question of the educator. His +second is, "What hast thou not?" The third is, "How can I help thee to +this last?" + +To my view, the man remains incomplete his whole life long. Most +incomplete is he, however, in the isolations of selfishness and of +solitude. Study is not necessarily solitude, but ideal society in the +highest grade in which human beings can enjoy it. It is, nevertheless, +dangerous to suffer the ideal to distance the real too largely. +Desk-dreamers end by being mental cripples. Divorce of this sort is not +wholesome, nor holy. Life is a perpetual marriage of real and ideal, of +endeavor and result. The solitary departure of physical death is +hateful, as putting asunder what God has joined together. + +Must I go hence as lonely as I was born? My mother brought me into the +infinite society: I go into the absolute dissociation. I go many steps +further back than I came,--to the _ur_ mother, the common matrix which +bears plants, animals, and human creatures. Where, oh where, shall I +find that infinite companionship which my life should have earned for +me? My friendship has been hundred-handed. My love has consumed the +cities of the plain, and built the heavenly Jerusalem. And I go, without +lover or friend, in a box, into an earth vault, from which I cannot even +turn into violets and primroses in any recognizable and conscious way. + +The completeness of our severance or deficiency may be, after all, the +determining circumstance of our achievement. What I would have is cut so +clean off from what I have as to leave no sense of wholeness in my +continuing as I am. Something of mine is mislaid or lost. It is more +mine than anything that I have, but where to find it? Who has it? I +reach for it under this bundle and under that. After my life's trial, I +find that I have pursued, but not possessed it. What I have gained of it +in the pursuit, others must realize. I bequeath, and cannot take it with +me. Did Dante regard the parchments of his "Divina Commedia" with a +sigh, foreseeing the long future of commentators and booksellers, he +himself absolving them beforehand by the quitclaim of death? You and I +may also grieve to part from certain unsold volumes, from certain +manuscripts of doubtful fate and eventuality. Oh! out of this pang of +death has come the scheme and achievement of immortality. "_Non omnis +moriar_." "I am the resurrection and the life." "It is sown a natural +body; it is raised a spiritual body." + +This tremendous leap and feat of the human soul across the bridge of +dark negativity would never have been made without the sharp spur and +bitter pang of death. "My life food for worms? No; never. I will build +and bestow it in arts and charities, spin it in roads and replicate it +in systems; but to be lopped from the great body of humanity, and decay +like a black, amputated limb? My manhood refuses. The infinite hope +within me generates another life, realizable in every moment of my +natural existence, whose moments are not in time, whose perfect joys are +not measured by variable duration. Thus every day can be to me full of +immortality, and the matter of my corporeal decease full of +indifference, as sure to be unconscious." + +I think this attainment the first, fundamental to all the others. We +console the child with a simple word about heaven. He is satisfied, and +feels its truth. How to attain this deathlessness is the next problem +whose solution he will ask of us. We point him to the plane on which he +will roll; for our life is a series of revolutions,--no straight-forward +sledding, but an acceleration by ideal weight and propulsion, through +which our line becomes a circle, and our circle itself a living wheel of +action, creating out of its mobile necessity a past and a future. + +The halfness of the individual is literally shown in the division of +sex. The Platonic fancy runs into an anterior process, by which what was +originally one has been made two. We will say that the two halves were +never historically, though always ideally, one. Here Art comes to the +assistance of Nature. The mere contrast of sex does not lift society out +of what is animal and slavish. The integrity of sex relation is not to +be found in a succession or simultaneity of mates, easily taken and as +easily discarded. This great value of a perfected life is to be had only +through an abiding and complete investment,--the relations of sex +lifted up to the communion of the divine, unified by the good faith of a +lifetime, enriched by a true sharing of all experience. This august +partnership is Marriage, one of the most difficult and delicate +achievements of society. Too sadly does its mockery afflict us in these +and other days. Either party, striving to dwarf the other, dwarfs +itself. This mystic selfhood, inexpressible in literal phrases, is at +once the supreme of Nature and the sublime of institutions. The ideal +human being is man and woman united on the ideal plane. The church long +presented and represented this plane. The state is hereafter to second +and carry out its suggestions. The ideal assembly, which we figure by +the communion of the saints, is a coming together of men and women in +the highest aims and views to which Humanity can be a party. + +Passing from immediate to projected consciousness, I can imagine +expression itself to spring from want. The sense of the incompleteness +of life in itself and in each of its acts calls for this effort to show, +at least, what life should be,--to vindicate the shortcoming of action +out of the fulness of speech. This that eats and sleeps is so little of +the man! These processes are so little what he understands by life! +Listen; let him tell you what life means to him. + +And so sound is differentiated into speech, and hammered into grammar, +and built up into literature--all of whose creations are acoustic +palaces of imagination. For the eye in reading is only the secondary +sense: the written images the spoken word. + +How the rhythm of the blood comes to be embodied in verse is more +difficult to trace. But the justification of Poetry is obvious. When you +have told the thing in prose, you have made it false by making it +literal. Poesy lies a little to complete the truth which Honesty lacks +skill to embody. Her artifices are subtle and wonderful. You glance +sideways at the image, and you see it. You look it full in the face, and +it disappears. + +The plastic arts, too. This beautiful face commands me to paint from it +a picture twice as beautiful. Its charm of Nature I cannot attain. My +painting must not try for the edge of its flesh and blood forms, the +evanescence of its color, the light and shadow of its play of feature. +But something which the beautiful face could not know of itself the +artist knows of it. That deep interpretation of its ideal significance +marks the true master, who is never a Chinese copyist. Some of the +portraits that look down upon you from the walls of Rome and of Florence +calmly explain to you a whole eternity. Their eyes seem to have seized +it all, and to hold it beyond decay. This is what Art gives in the +picture,--not simply what appears and disappears, but that which, being +interpreted, abides with us. + +Who shall say by what responsive depths the heights of architecture +measure themselves? The uplifted arches mirror the introspective soul. +So profoundly did I think, and plot, and contrive! So loftily must my +stone climax balance my cogitations! To such an amount of prayer allow +so many aisles and altars. The pillars of cloisters image the +brotherhood who walked in the narrow passages; straight, slender, paired +in steadfastness and beauty, there they stand, fair records of amity. +Columns of retrospect, let us hope that the souls they image did not +look back with longing upon the scenes which they were called upon to +forsake. + +Critical belief asks roomy enclosures and windows unmasked by artificial +impediments. It comes also to desire limits within which the voice of +the speaker can reach all present. Men must look each other in the face, +and construct prayer or sermon with the human alphabet. We are glad to +see the noble structures of older times maintained and renewed; but we +regret to see them imitated in our later day. (St. Peter's is, in all +save dimension, a church of Protestant architecture--so is St. Paul's, +of London.) The present has its own trials and agonies, its martyrdoms +and deliverances. With it, the old litanies must sink to sleep; the more +Christian of to-day efface the most Christian of yesterday. The very +attitude of saintship is changed. The practical piety of our time looks +neither up nor down, but straight before it, at the men and women to be +relieved, at the work to be done. Religion to-day is not "height nor +depth nor any other creature," but God with us. + +There is a mystic birth and Providence in the succession of the Arts; +yet are they designed to dwell together, each needing the aid of all. +People often speak of sculpture as of an art purely and distinctively +Grecian. But the Greeks possessed all the Arts, and more, too,--the +substratum of democracy and the sublime of philosophy. No natural +jealousy prevails in this happy household. The Arts are not wives, of +whom one must die before another has proper place. They are sisters, +whose close communion heightens the charm of all by the excellence of +each. The Christian unanimity is as favorable to Art as to human +society. + +We may say that the Greeks attained a great perfection in sculpture, and +have continued in this art to offer the models of the world. + +When the great period of Italian art attained its full splendor, it +seemed as if the frozen crystals of Greek sculpture had melted before +the fire of Christian inspiration. But this transformation, like the +transfiguration of Hindoo deities, did not destroy the anterior in its +issue. + +The soul of sculpture ripened into painting, but Sculpture, the +beautiful mother, still lived and smiled upon her glowing daughter. See +Michael Angelo studying the torso! See the silent galleries of the +Vatican, where Form holds you in one room, Color presently detaining you +in another! And what are our Raphaels, Angelos, making to-day? Be sure +they are in the world, for the divine spirit of Art never leaves itself +without a witness. But what is their noble task? They are moulding +character, embodying the divine in human culture and in human +institutions. The Greek sculptures indicate and continue a fitting +reverence for the dignity and beauty of the human form; but the +reverence for the human soul which fills the world to-day is a holier +and happier basis of Art. From it must come records in comparison with +which obelisk and pyramid, triumphal arch and ghostly cathedral, shall +seem the toys and school appliances of the childhood of the race. + +To return to our original problem,--how shall we attain the proper human +stature, how add the wanting half to the half which is given? + +I answer: By labor and by faith, in which there is nothing accidental or +arbitrary. The very world in which we live is but a form, whose spirit, +breathing through Nature and Experience, slowly creates its own +interpretation, adding a new testament to an old testament, lifting the +veil between Truth and Mercy, clasping the mailed hand of Righteousness +in the velvet glove of Peace. + +The spirit of Religion is the immanence of the divine in the human, the +image of the eternal in the transitory, of things infinite in things +limited. I have heard endless discussions and vexed statements of how +the world came out of chaos. From the Mosaic version to the last +rationalistic theory, I have been willing to give ear to these. It is a +subject upon which human ingenuity may exercise itself in its allowable +leisure. One thing concerns all of us much more; _viz._, how to get +heaven out of earth, good out of evil, instruction out of opportunity. + +This is our true life work. When we have done all in this that life +allows us, we have not done more than half, the other half lying beyond +the pale struggle and the silent rest. Oh! when we shall reach that +bound, whatever may be wanting, let not courage and hope forsake us. + + + + +Dante and Beatrice + + +DANTE and Beatrice--names linked together by holy affection and high +art. Ary Scheffer has shown them to us as in a beatific vision,--the +stern spirit which did not fear to confront the horrors of Hell held in +a silken leash of meekness by the gracious one through whose +intervention he passed unscathed through fire and torment, bequeathing +to posterity a record unique in the annals alike of literature and of +humanity. + +My first studies of the great poet are in the time long past, antedating +even that middle term of life which was for him the starting-point of a +new inspiration. Yet it seems to me that no part of my life, since that +reading, has been without some echo of the "Divine Comedy" in my mind. +In the walk through Hell, I strangely believe. Its warnings still +admonish me. I see the boat of Charon, with its mournful freight. I pass +before the judgment seat of Midas. I see the souls tormented in hopeless +flame. I feel the weight of the leaden cloaks. I shrink from the jar of +the flying rocks, hurled as weapons. For me, dark Ugolino still feeds +upon his enemy. Francesca still mates with her sad lover. + +From this hopeless abyss, I emerge to the kindlier pain of Purgatory, +whose end is almost Heaven. And of that blessed realm, my soul still +holds remembrance--of its solemn joy, of its unfolding revelation. The +vision of that mighty cross in which all the stars of the highest heaven +range themselves is before me, on each fair cluster the word "Cristo" +outshining all besides. + +Among my dearest recollections is that of an Easter sermon devised by me +for an ignorant black congregation in a far-off West Indian isle, in +which I told of this vision of the cross, and tried to make it present +to them. But this grateful remembrance which I have carried through so +many years does not regard the poet alone. In the world's great goods, +as in its great evils, a woman has her part. And this poem, which has +been such a boon to humanity, has for its central inspiration the memory +of a woman. + +In the prologue, already we hear of her. It is she who sends her poet +his poet-guide. When he shrinks from the painful progress which lies +before him, and deems the companionship even of Virgil an insufficient +pledge of safety, the words of his lady, repeated to him by his guide, +restore his sinking courage, and give him strength for his immortal +journey. + +Here are those words of Beatrice, spoken to Virgil, and by him brought +to Dante:-- + + O courteous shade of Mantua! thou whose fame + Yet lives and shall live long as Nature lasts! + A friend, not of my fortune, but myself, + On the wide desert in his road has met + Hindrance so great that he through fear has turned. + Assist him: so to me will comfort spring. + I who now bid thee on this errand forth + Am Beatrice. + +Who and what was Beatrice, whose message gave Dante strength to explore +the fearful depths of evil and its punishment? This we may learn +elsewhere. + +Dante, passionate poet in his youth, has left to posterity a work unique +of its sort,--the romance of a childish love which grew with the growth +of the lover. In his adolescence, its intensity at times overpowers his +bodily senses. The years that built up his towering manhood built up +along with it this ideal womanhood, which, whether realized or +realizable, or neither, was the highest and holiest essence which his +imagination could infuse into a human form. The sweet shyness of that +first peep at the Beautiful, of that first thrill of the master chord of +being, is rendered immortal for us by the candor of this great master. +We can see the shamefaced boy, taken captive by the dazzling vision of +Beatrice, veiling the features of his unreasonable passion, and retiring +to his own closet, there to hide his joy at having found on earth a +thing so beautiful. + +Dante's love for Beatrice dates from the completion of his own ninth +year, and the beginning of hers. He first sees her at a May party, at +the house of her father, Folco Polinari. Her apparel, he says, "was of a +most noble tincture, a subdued and becoming crimson; and she wore a +girdle and ornaments becoming her childish years." At the sight of her, +his heart began to beat with painful violence. A master thought had +taken possession of him, and that master's name was well known to him, +as how should it not have been in that day when, if ever in this world, +Love was crowned lord of all? Urged by this tyrant, from time to time, +to go in search of Beatrice, he beheld in her, he says, a demeanor so +praiseworthy and so noble as to remind him of a line of Homer, regarding +Helen of Troy:-- + + "From heaven she had her birth, and not from mortal clay." + +These glimpses of her must have been transient ones, for the poet tells +us that his second meeting, face to face, with Beatrice occurred nine +years after their first encounter. Her childish charm had now ripened +into maidenly loveliness. He beholds her arrayed in purest white, +walking between two noble ladies older than herself. "As she passed +along the street, she turned her eyes toward the spot where I, thrilled +through and through with awe, was standing; and in her ineffable +courtesy, which now hath its guerdon in everlasting life, she saluted +me in such gracious wise that I seemed in that moment to behold the +utmost bounds of bliss." + +He now begins to dream of her in his sleeping moments, and to rhyme of +her in his waking hours. In his first vision, Love appears with Beatrice +in his arms. In one hand he holds Dante's flaming heart, upon which he +constrains her to feed; after which, weeping, he gathers up his fair +burthen and ascends with her to Heaven. This dream seemed to Dante fit +to be communicated to the many famous poets of the time. He embodies it +in a sonnet, which opens thus:-- + + To every captive soul and gentle heart + Into whose sight shall come this song of mine, + That they to me its matter may divine, + Be greeting in Love's name, our master's, sent. + +And now begins for him a season of love-lorn pining and heart-sickness. +The intensity of the attraction paralyzes in him the power of +approaching its object. His friends notice his altered looks, and ask +the cause of this great change in him. He confesses that it is the +master passion, but so misleads them as to the person beloved, as to +bring upon another a scandal by his feigning. For this he is punished by +the displeasure of Beatrice, who, passing him in the street, refuses him +that salutation the very hope of which, he says, kindled such a flame +of charity within him as to make him forget and forgive every offence +and injury. + +Love now visits him in his sleep, in the guise of a youth arrayed in +garments of exceeding whiteness, and desires him to indite certain words +in rhyme, which, though not openly addressed to Beatrice, shall yet +assure her of what she partly knows,--that the poet's heart has been +hers from boyhood. The ballad which he composes in obedience to his +love's command is not a very literal rendering of his story. + +He now begins to have many conflicting thoughts about Love, two of which +constitute a very respectable antinomy. One of these tells him that the +empire of Love is good, because it turns the inclinations of its vassal +from all that is base. The opposite thought is: "The empire of Love is +not good, since the more absolute the allegiance of his vassal, the more +severe and woful are the straits through which he must perforce pass." + +These conflicting thoughts sought expression in a sonnet, of which I +will quote a part:-- + + Of Love, Love only, speaks my every thought; + And all so various they be that one + Bids me bow down to his dominion, + Another counsels me his power is naught. + One, flushed with hopes, is all with sweetness fraught; + Another makes full oft my tears to run. + + * * * * * + + Where, then, to turn, what think, I cannot tell. + Fain would I speak, yet know not what to say. + +While these uncertainties still possess him, Dante is persuaded by a +friend to attend a bridal festivity, where it is hoped that the sight of +much beauty may give him great pleasure. + +"Why have you brought me among these ladies?" he asks. "In order that +they may be properly attended," is the answer. + +Small attendance can Dante give upon these noble beauties. A fatal +tremor seizes him; he looks up and, beholding Beatrice, can see nothing +else. Nay, even of her his vision is marred by the intensity of his +feeling. The ladies first wonder at his agitation, and then make merry +over it, Beatrice apparently joining in their merriment. His friend, +chagrined at his embarrassment, now asks the cause of it; to which +question Dante replies: "I have set my foot in that part of life to pass +beyond which, with purpose to return, is impossible." + +With these words the poet departs, and in his chamber of tears persuades +himself that Beatrice would not have joined in the laughter of her +friends if she had really known his state of mind. Then follows, +naturally, a sonnet:-- + + With other ladies thou dost flaunt at me, + Nor thinkest, lady, whence doth come the change, + What fills mine aspect with a trouble strange + When I the wonder of thy beauty see. + If thou didst know, thou must, for charity, + Forswear the wonted rigor of thine eye. + +With this poetic utterance comes the plain prose question: "Seeing thou +dost present an aspect so ridiculous whenever thou art near this lady, +wherefore dost thou seek to come into her presence?" + +It takes two sonnets to answer this question. He is not the only person +who asks it. Meeting with some merry dames, he is thus questioned by her +of them who seems "most gay and pleasant of discourse:" "Unto what end +lovest thou this lady, seeing that her near presence overwhelms thee?" +In reply, he professes himself happy in having words wherewith to speak +the praises of his lady, and going thence, determines in his heart to +devote his powers of expression to that high theme. He leaves the +cramping sonnet now, and expands his thought in the _canzone_, of which +I need only repeat the first line:-- + + Ladies who have the intellect of Love. + +Why the course of this true love never did run smooth, we know not. +Beatrice, at the proper age, was given in marriage to Messer Simone dei +Bardi. It is thought that she was wedded to him before the occasion on +which Dante's love-lorn appearance moved her to a mirth which may have +been feigned. Still, the thought of her continues to be his greatest +possession, and he and his master, Love, hold many arguments together +concerning the bliss and bane of this high fancy. He has great comfort +in the general esteem in which his lady is held, and is proud and glad +when those who see her passing in the street hasten to get a better view +of her. He sees the controlling power of her loveliness in its influence +on those around her, who are not thrown into the shade, but brightened, +by her radiance. + + Such virtue rare her beauty hath, in sooth + No envy stirs in other ladies' breast; + But in its light they walk beside her, dressed + In gentleness, and love, and noble truth. + Her looks whate'er they light on seem to bless; + Nor her alone make lovely to the view, + But all her peers through her have honor, too. + +Dante was still engaged in interpreting the merits of Beatrice to the +world when that most gentle being met the final conflict, and received +the crown of immortality. His first feeling is that Florence is made +desolate by her loss. He can think of no words but those with which the +prophet Jeremiah bewailed the spoiling of Jerusalem: "How doth the city +sit desolate!" The princes of the earth, he thinks, should learn the +loss of this more than princess. He speaks of her in sonnet and +_canzone_. + +The passing of a band of pilgrims in the street suggests to him the +thought that they do not know of his sweet saint, nor of her death, and +that if they did, they would perforce stop to weep with him:-- + + Tell me, ye pilgrims, who so thoughtful go, + Musing, mayhap, on what is far away, + Come ye from climes so far, as your array + And look of foreign nurture seem to shew, + That from your eyes no tears of pity flow, + As ye along our mourning city stray, + Serene of countenance and free, as they + Who of her deep disaster nothing know? + Oh! she hath lost her Beatrice, her saint, + And what of her her co-mates can reveal + Must drown with tears even strangers' hearts, perforce. + +On the first anniversary of his lady's death, as he sits absorbed in +thoughts of her, he sketches the figure of an angel upon his tablets. +Turning presently from his work, he sees near him some gentlemen of his +acquaintance, who are watching the movements of his pencil. He answers +the interruption thus: + + Into my lonely thoughts that noble dame + Whom Love bewails, had entered in the hour + When you, my friends, attracted by his power, + To see the task that did employ me came. + +Many a sigh of dole escapes his heart, he says, + + But they which came with sharpest pang were those + Which said: "O intellect of noble mould, + A year to-day it is since thou didst seek the skies." + +We may find, perhaps, a more wonderful proof of his constancy in his +stout-hearted resistance to the charms of a beautiful lady who regards +him with that intense pity which is akin to love. To her he says: + + Never was Pity's semblance, or Love's hue + So wondrously in face of lady shown, + That tenderly gave ear to Sorrow's moan + Or looked on woful eyes, as shows in you. + +To this new attraction he is on the point of surrendering, when the +vision of Beatrice rises before him, as he first saw her,--robed in +crimson, and bright with the angelic beauty of childhood. All other +thoughts are put to flight by this, and with renewed faith he devotes +himself to the memory of Beatrice, hoping to say of her some day "that +which hath never yet been said of any lady." + +All who have been lovers--and who has not?--must feel, I think, that the +"Vita Nuova" is the romance of a true love. The Beatrice of the "Divina +Commedia" is this love, and much more. Dante has had a deep and availing +experience of life. Statesman and scholar, he has laid his fiery soul +upon the world's great anvil, where Fate, with heavy hammering and fiery +blowing, has wrought out of him a stern, sad man, so hunted and exiled +that the ways of Imagination alone are open to him. In its domain, he +calls around him the majestic shadows of those with whom his life has +made him familiar. For him, the way to Heaven lies through Hell and +Purgatory. Into these regions, the blessed Beatrice cannot come. She +sends, however, the poet shade, who seems to her most fit to be his +guide. The classic refinement makes evident to him the vulgarity of sin +and the logic of its consequences. He surveys the eternal, hopeless +punishment, and passes through the cleansing fires of Purgatory, at +whose outer verge, a fair vision comes to bless him. Beatrice, in a +mystical car, her beauty at first concealed by a veil of flowers which +drop from the hands of attendant angels, speaks to him in tones which +move his penitential grief. + +The high love of his youth thus appears to him as accusing Conscience, +which stands to question him with the offended majesty of a loving +mother. Through her rebukes, precious in their bitterness, he attains to +that view of his own errors without which it would have been impossible +for him to forsake them. It is a real orthodox "repentance and +conviction of sin" with which the religious renewal of his life begins. +Tormented by this cruel retrospect, the poet is mercifully bathed in the +waters of forgetfulness, and then, being made a new creature, regains +the society of Beatrice. + +Seated at the root of the great Tree of Humanity, she bids him take note +of the prophetic vision which symbolizes the history of the church. Of +the sanctity of the tree, she thus admonishes him: + + This whoso robs, + This whoso plucks, with blasphemy of deed + Sins against God, who for His use alone + Creating, hallowed it. + +Dante drinks now of a stream whose sweetness can never satiate, and from +that holy wave returns, + + Regenerate, + Pure, and made apt for mounting to the stars. + +It appears to me quite simple and natural that the image of the poet's +earthly love, long lost from physical sense, should prompt the awakening +of his higher nature, which, obscured, as he confesses, by the disorders +of his mortal life, asserts itself with availing authority when +Beatrice, the beloved, becomes present to his mind. All progress, all +heavenly learning, is thenceforth associated with her. High as he may +climb, she always leads him. Where he passes as a stranger, she is at +home. Where he poorly guesses, she wholly knows. Nor does he part from +her until he has attained the highest point of spiritual vision, where +he sees her throned and crowned in immortal glory, and above her, the +lovely one of Heaven,--the Virgin Mother of Christ. What he sees after +this, he says, cannot be told with mortal tongue. + + Here vigor failed the towering fantasy, + But yet the will rolled onward, like a wheel, + In even motion, by the love impelled + That moves the sun in heaven and all the stars. + +Two opposite points in great authors give us pleasure; _viz._, the +originality of their talent or genius, and the catholicity of their +sentiments and interest,--in other words, their likeness and their +unlikeness to the average of humanity. We are delighted to find Plato at +once so modern and so ancient, his prevision and prophecy needing so +little adaptation to make them germane to the wants of our own or of any +other time, his grasp of apprehension and comparison so peculiar to +himself, so unrivalled by any thinker of any time. In like manner, the +mediaeval pictures drawn by Dante delight us, and the bold daring of his +imagination. At the same time, the perfectly sound and rational common +sense of many of his utterances seems familiar from its accordance with +the soundest criticism of our own time:-- + + Florence within her ancient circle set, + Remained in sober, modest quietness. + Nor chains had she, nor crowns, nor women decked + In gay attire, with splendid cincture bound, + More to be gazed at than the form itself. + Not yet the daughter to the father brought + Fear from her birth, the marriage time and dower + Not yet departing from their fitting measure. + Nor houses had she, void of household life. + Sardanapalus had not haply shown + The deeds which may be hid by chamber walls. + I saw Bellincion Berti go his way + With bone and leather belted. From the glass + His lady moved, no paint upon her face. + I saw the Lords of Norti and del Vecchio content, + Their household dames engaged with spool and spindle. + +The theory of the good old time, we see, is not a modern invention. + +Dante inherits the great heart of chivalry, wise before its time in the +uplifting of Woman. The wonderful worship of the Virgin Mother, in which +are united the two poles of womanhood, completed the ideal of the Divine +Human, and cast a new glory upon the sex. Can we doubt that knight and +minstrel found a true inspiration in the lady of their heart? A mere +pretence or affection is a poor thing to fight for or to sing for. Men +will not imperil their lives for what they know to be a lie. + +This newly awakened reverence for woman--shall we call it a race +characteristic? It was a golden gift to any race. Plato's deep doctrine +that all learning is a reminiscence may avail us in questioning this. +The human race does not carry the bulk of its knowledge in its hand. +Busy with its tools and toys, it forgets its ancestral heirlooms, and +leaves unexplored the legacy of the past. But in some mystical way, the +treasures lost from remembrance turn up and come to sight again. In the +far Caucasus, from which we came, there were glimpses of this ideal wife +and mother. + +This history, whether real or imaginary, or both, suggests to me the +question whether the love which brings together and binds together men +and women can in any way typify the supreme affections of the soul? That +it was supposed to do so in mediaeval times is certain. The sentimental +agonies of troubadours and minstrels make it evident. Even the latest +seedy sprout of chivalry, Don Quixote, shows us this. Wishing to start +upon a noble errand, the succor of oppressed humanity, his almost first +requisite is a "lady of his heart," who, in his case, is a mere lay +figure upon which he drapes the fantastic weaving of his imagination. + +Another question, like unto the first, is this,--whether the heroic mode +of loving is or is not a lost art in our days. + +That Plato and Socrates should busy themselves with it, that mystics and +philosophers should find such a depth of interest in the attraction +which one nature exerts upon another, and that, _per contra_, in our +time, this mystical attraction should flatten, or, as singers say, flat +out into a decorous observance of rules, assisting a mutual +endurance--what does it mean? Is Pan dead, and are the other gods dead +with him? + +In an age widely, if not deeply, critical, we lose sight of the +primitive affections and temperament of our race. Affection's self +becomes merged in opinion. We contemplate, we compare, we are not able +to covet any but surface distinctions, surface attractions. Even the +poets who give us the expression of a lively participation in human +instincts are disowned by us. Wordsworth is chosen, and Byron is +discarded. We are not too rich with both of them. Inspired Browning--for +the man who wrote "Pippa" and "Saul" was inspired--loses himself and his +music in the dismal swamp of metaphysical speculation. Just at present, +it seems to me that the world has lost one of its noblest leadings; +_viz._, the desire for true companionship. Arid love of pleasure, more +arid worship of wealth, paralyze those higher powers of the soul which +take hold on friendship and on love. To know those only who can advance +your personal objects, be these amusement or ambition; to marry at +auction, going, going, for so much,--how can we who have but one human +life to live so cheat ourselves out of its real rights and privileges? + +Is this a pathological symptom in the body social, produced by a surfeit +in the direction of inclination? One might think so, since asceticism +has no joylessness comparable to that of the blasted _roue_ or utter +worldling. In France, where the bent of romantic literature has been the +following of inclination,--from George Sand, who consecrates it, down to +the latest scrofulous scribbler, who outrages it,--on the banks of this +turbid stream of literature, one constantly meets with the apples of +Sodom. "There is no other fruit," say the venders. "You cultivate none +other," is the fitting reply. + +The world of thought is ever full of problems as contradictory of each +other as the antinomies of which I just now made a passing mention. The +right interpretation of these riddles is of great moment in our +spiritual and intellectual life. The ages and aeons of human experience +tend, on the whole, to a gradual unification of persuasion and +conviction on the part of thinking beings, and much that a prophet +breathes into a hopeless blank acquires meaning in the light of +succeeding centuries. + +This great problem of love continues to be full of contradictory aspects +to those who would explore it. We distinguish between divine love and +human love, but have yet to decide whether Love absolute is divine or +human; for this deity is known to us from all time in two opposite +shapes,--as a destructive and as a constructive god. He unmakes the man, +he unmakes the woman, sucks up precious years of human life like a +sponge, sets Troy ablaze, maddens harmless Io with a stinging gad-fly. + +On the other hand, where Love is not, nothing is. Luxurious Solomon +praises a dinner of herbs enriched by his presence. All poetry, all +doctrine, is founded upon human affection assumed as essential to life, +nay, as life itself; for when love of life and its objects exists not, +the vital flame flickers feebly, and expires early. In ethics, social +and religious, what contradictions do we encounter under this head! From +all inordinate and sinful affections, good Lord, deliver us! is a good +prayer. But how shall we treat the case when there are no affections at +all? We might add a clause to our litany,--From lovelessness and all +manner of indifference, good Lord, deliver us! What more direful +sentence than to say that a person has no heart? What sin more severely +punished than any extravagant action of this same heart? + +These wonders of lofty sentiment and high imagination are precious +subjects of study. The construction of a great poem, of which the +interest is at once intense, various, and sustained, seems to us a work +more appropriate to other days than to our own. I remember in my youth a +fluent critic who was fond of saying that if Milton had lived in this +day of the world, he would not have thought of writing an epic poem. To +which another of the same stripe would reply: "If he did write such a +poem in these days, nobody would read it." I wonder how long the frisky +impatience of our youth will think it worth while to follow even Homer +in his long narratives. + +More than this sustained power of the imagination, does the heroic in +sentiment seem to decrease and to be wanting among us. Those lofty views +of human affection and relation which we find in the great poets seem +almost foreign to the civilization of to-day. I find in modern +scepticism this same impatience of weighty thoughts. He who believes +only in the phenomenal universe does not follow a conviction. A fatal +indolence of mind prevents him from following any lead which threatens +fatigue and difficult labor. Instead of a temple for the Divine, our man +of to-day builds a commodious house for himself,--at best, a club-house +for his set or circle. And the worst of it is, that he teaches his son +to do the same thing. + +The social change which I notice to-day as a decline in attachments +simply personal is partly the result of a political change which I, for +one, cannot deplore. The idea of the state and of society as bodies in +which each individual has a direct interest gives to men and women of +to-day an enlarged sphere of action and of instruction. The absolutely +universal coincidence of the real advantage of the individual with that +of the community, always true in itself, and neither now nor at any time +fully comprehended, gives the fundamental tone to thought and education +to-day. The result is a tendency to generality, to publicity, and a +neglect of those relations into which external power and influence do +not enter. The action of mind upon mind, of character upon character, +outside of public life, is intense, intimate, insensible. Temperament is +most valued nowadays for its effect upon multitudes. We wish to be +recognized as moving in a wide and exalted sphere. The belle in the +ball-room is glad to have it reported that the Prince of Wales admires +her. The lady who should grace a lady's sphere pines for the stage and +the footlights. Actions and appearances are calculated to be seen of +men. + +I say no harm of this tendency, which has enfranchised me and many +others from the cruel fetters of a narrow and personal judgment. It is +safe and happy to have the public for a final court of appeal, and to be +able, when an issue is misjudged or distorted, to call upon its great +heart to say where the right is, and where the wrong. But let us, in our +panorama of wide activities, keep with all the more care these pictures +of spirits that have been so finely touched within the limits of +Nature's deepest reserve and modesty. This mediaeval did not go to +dancing-school nor to Harvard College. He could not talk of the fellows +and the girls. But from his early childhood, he holds fast the tender +remembrance of a beautiful and gracious face. The thought of it, and of +the high type of woman which it images, is to him more fruitful of joy +and satisfaction than the amusements of youth or the gaieties of the +great world. Death removes this beloved object from his sight, but not +from his thoughts. Years pass. His genius reaches its sublime maturity. +He becomes acquainted with camps and courts, with the learning and the +world of his day. But when, with all his powers, he would build a +perfect monument to Truth, he takes her perfect measure from the hand of +his child-love. The world keeps that work, and will keep it while +literature shall last. It has many a subtle passage, many a wonderful +picture, but at its height, crowned with all names divine, he has +written, as worthy to be remembered with these, the name of Beatrice. + +PRINTED AT THE EVERETT PRESS BOSTON MASS. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Is Polite Society Polite?, by Julia Ward Howe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IS POLITE SOCIETY POLITE? *** + +***** This file should be named 34271.txt or 34271.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/7/34271/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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