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1
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6
KE VEKIE8
OF
•■
AN OLD SMOKER.
"^^^ ■■^^ l!S>*i*''SM"ft^^*i^®U^
REVERIES
OF
AN OLD SMOKEE,
. INTERSPERSED WITH
REMINISCENCES OF TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE.
BY
CHARLES EDWARD LEWIS.
HUNTER, ROSE & COMPANY.
1881.
\'?>'2.'S>-5-
Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one
thousand eight hundred and eighty-one, by Charles Edwakd Lewis, in
the Office of the Minister of Agricidture.
ebicatiott
•••
A LL that is most kindly and pleasing in the following
jC\~. pages, I proffer most heartily to niy friends ; and
those portions which may not be acceptable to them, I be-
queath most cheerfully to my critics. I trust both parts
may be received — the former, as an earnest tribute of
reciprocal affection ; the latter, as an inoffensive and easy
exercise whose manifest errors may offer them the congen-
ial task of correcting. .
The volume as a whole, irrespective of its merits or de-
merits, but simply as a memoir of odd hours of thoughtful
reverie, is dedicated to one who, regardless of its literary
value, will prize it as the fragment of a life's history in
which she has always evinced a loving interest; and if, on
its perusal, she, too, would eondeinn much that may not
meet her capproval, then will she grant me her indulgence,
as of yore, on being reminded that she is the Tnothei' of
THE AUTHOR.
Montreal, Canada,
May, 1880.
CONTENTS.
TAOK
DEDICATION v
BYGONES OF HISTORY— Introductory 3
A SKE-SAW AT SEA— Coxceknino the Pains and Pen-
alties OF Ocean Travel. 31
THE SHADOW OP THE END 6]
NORWOOD TO BRECKENKAM— A Pensketch of Eng-
lish Landscape (39
OUR CHARITIES— AND CHARITY MONUMENTS. ... 83
FIRST EXPERIENCE UNDER FIRE-A Reminiscence
OF THE American Civil War 113
GRANITE AND ASHES-Or Gleanings from the Sep-
ulchres of Great English >Story-Tellers 136
IMAGINATION ; OR, IDEAL vs. REAL 171
CHISELHURST. 249
AMNESTY 277
MiMMMMMaMMMMIIIMI
^njottts of ^ilston).
«
1 cliS^^^:
^€^^^jS
1
llEVElllES
1
OF
1 AN
OLD
SMOKER.
♦ ••-
BYGONES OF HISTORY.
I.
TN vuluiitiirily assuming the somewhat onerous task
-^ which the consideration and writing of these reveries
present, not the least of the many difliicidties involved is,
that I seem to set myself up, not only to supplant the
brilliant efforts of many of the world's great advisei-s, but
to impugn the integrity of their motives — to assail the
sacred origin and utility of their doctrines, and worst of
all to deny the hallowed exclusiveness of their right to
preach. Here let me add (and it will be rather in exag-
geration than extenuation) that notwithstanding all the
orthodox odium attaching to the term, I must avow my-
self a " free-thinker " on all subjects pertaining to common
sense. This, of itself, were provocation enough to send
any man " to Coventry," but seemingly not atistied with
such an obnoxious and heretical attitude, I must needs go
farther and show, if not maliciously, at least intentionally,
sometliing less than the minimum amount of reverence for
4 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
our splondid heritage of Evangelical learning — not except-
ing even those theological puzzles presumed to underlie sal-
vation, and the making out of which, unlike the pest of
an unprogressive Tantalus, is regarded not as a penance but
rather as a lucrative and highly popular profession, where-
in each of the infinite variety of opposite conclusions are
regarded as such an exclusive triumph of ecclesiastical
erudition and scholarly ability, as i*aises the precocious
adept out of the groping darkness of niean apprenticeship,
out of the a[)athetic mysticism of mere professorship to
that higher earthly Elysium of prodigious talent set up
in opposition to the Limbo of idiots. There, although
only dead to his novitiate, he undergoes amongst the initi-
ated a kind of apotheosis, and becomes thenceforward, in
the estimation of a substrata of comparative stupidity,
that human prodigy of the class dubbed "Doctors of
Divinity."
In raising my weak voice, and breaking the spell of
hush and awe, that characterize the unthinking credulity
of othei* men, it is not that I need to be admonished of
the acquiescence becoming one of my humble attainments ;
on the contrary, my motive in thus relieving my mind
gets both its impulse and inspiration in the mournful con-
sciousness that to justify even, the pretence of underetand-
ing, it is necessary to have mastered the preliminary and
occult science of Schismatics ; and, when we consider the
chaos of perplexity in which our learned professors have
inv lived, not simply tlie arts of peace, but the conditions
ot ternal bliss, it must be admitted for anyone, in the
liYGONES OF HISTOllY.
5
exci'clso of ordiiisiiy time an<l ijitelli^(»nce, to attempt to
comprehend all the subtletien and .sophisms pertaining
thereto, were alK)ut as hopeless and fruitless a task as for
a novice, like me, to attempt to demonstrate the fallacy
of, or to budge in the slightest degree, those mammoth
tomes and cumbrous systems which a learned dictatorial
orthodoxy has grafted on the race ; and which, while they
stand as firm, are also as opafjue as the granite hills of New
England.
Although without the excuse for my seeming presump-
ti(m which comes of being, as all at least asmnne to be,
"unbiassed," nevertheless, I may claim, instead, that my
opinions are ventured in the outgush of natuial impulse
— that my ideas, however faulty and crude, present
the virtue at least of "raw material," and have not been
made up and warped and {)erverted by scholastic nursing
or other sectarian training — that however strongly I may
incline to certain views, my mind is neither pledged nor
subsi<lized — and whatever my preju<lices, I have no pro-
fessional nor party interest in catering, with a view to
profit or aggrandizement, to the claims of rival cli([ue or
clan or cause. This last consideration is my greatest en-
couragement — my best apology for intruding my senti-
ments in the frowning, cynical face of such an impos-
ing array of " cultured " talent as we find enjoying in
ofticial capacity both a sacred and profane monopoly
of all situations of vantage and emolument — not in the
exercise of a calling simply, but employed in the routine
business of inculcatinof ideas rather more ancient than
HEVERtES or AK Ott) SMOKEtl.
Ill
i
modern, and in the cabalisticj interpretation and proninl-
gation of tlie lawH of Go<l and man. I may say tlmt
Wliile I wonM confine m3'.self as closely Jis possible to my
own thoughts and language, 1 make no claim to originality;
at least, none save that which bears in mind that all are
original just in proportion as all are ignorant, and that for
me or anyone else to expect to think exclusively of things
that have escaped the ol>servation of the watchful hosts
who are moving by or that have gone past, would be as
pal[)abl3'^ unjust to them, and, indeed, as erroneous and
absurd an s,ssuraption of pristine right as for a lost tribe
of interior Africa to send a deputation thence across the
boundaries into civilization, and following the example of
more enlightened nations, lay claim to desirable localities
by right of discovery. Ah, we don't know that they may
not in coui-se of time, when all we have thought and done
shall have degenerated into apathy and forgetfulness, and
need brushing up and renovating by some ingenious peo-
ple at present fasting in ignorance and barbaric seclusion.
Even now, it must be admitted, in the jungle of mental
darkness which they inhabit, these latter would be dis-
cover(^rs, and in the open-mouthed, stupid amazement of
their dusky brethren and of their " Ferdinand and Isabella,"
enjoy, as explorers, the same enviable distinction as do our
own immortal Columbus and Jacques Cartier. But the rea-
son is they live in intellectual as well as physical nakedness,
and know no more about the world beyond their horizon
than is evolved in the native progress of eating, drinking
and sle jping as observed in their peculiar manner of liv-
HYOONES OF HISTORY
in<( — only payinjij that attention to wluit is tninspirini^
ahroa<l, as is suggested by their own eccentiie styU^ of lios-
pitality, made i>opular and interesting in the excitement
occasioned by the reception and entertainment of a stmy
])rofessor or a migratory missionary, whom we cannot
<leny they welcome, about Christmas time, with the same
hearty relish we would a well-stuflfed goose or an appe-
tizing gobbler — and with an impulse and propensity very
like our own, "kill 'em and eat 'em !"
Apropos of those systems to which I have referred,
they mav be excellent in their way, and actually repre-
sent the well-meaning fruits of centuries of pious schem-
ing and scholarly toil to inaugurate a geneml social and
ecclesiastical polity ; thus viewed, they may stand out
before the world splendid achievements in the line of
intellectual and evangelical progress, and at the same
time involve so much erudition and critical analysis
in their application as to present,of themselves, more diffi-
culties than the obstacles they are intended to over-
come, and necessitate in their operation an ability even
greater than that by which they were conceived.
Jomini divined the Art of War in its highest excellence ;
but his rules, although surprisingly clever, required in
their application what he lacked, viz., Genius ; and in
applying them personally he was worse than a novice, he
was a failure. So, wanting that indispensable prerequi-
site, his systems were a clog and a hindrance, and instead
of being the medium of his exaltation and triumph were
the chief cause of his degradation and ruin. Great
•0
T
B
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
minds, liowever, do not require systems, and tliey orijj^i-
nate those mninterly plans which win fume, as tlie
emergency calls for them, paying only sufficient atten-
tion to the study of general rules as to enable them to
anticipate the tactics of adversaries who, while they may
be men of ability, their tuition has made them niartinets,
and their devotion to the formalities of their profession
lays them open to the designs of artifice; so as, in the case
of knowing huntsmen who calculate to a dead certainty
the invariabh^ habits of the craftiest animals, while the
former usually triumph in the breach, the latter fall mis-
erable victims to the observance. This is as true of poli-
tics as of war, and applies wherever persuasion meets
opposition or progress resistjvnce. Indeed, a policy that
would succeed in one case would, if observed to the let-
ter in another, bring disaster ; and an expedient that
would suggest itself to a common sense mind, untram-
melled with theories, would, by exemplarians, be tabooed
as plausible but irregular.
II.
In the war of opinions, we find, all through history,
the conflict of partisan zeal waging fiercely round certain
standards, raised in the diverse views of men who, for
some reason or other, have acquired a reputation for
superior intelligence, and whose other virtues are pre-
sumed to be in the same laudable proportion. Many of
these, with no more learning than is sufticient to propound
perplexing problems, and no higher intellectual endow-
HYdONKS OK IIISTOUY.
iiioni tlian the inere " iiaek" of iiiakin*^ a "noise in the
world," come to be rej^arcb'd as of proili'^ious importance
and are sevenilly assigned ]>y the less intelligent masses
the much coveted distinction of party or sectional leader-
ship. These men, with a few honora))le exceptions, repre-
sent the tif-hifH¥&i{i casts into tlie scale in order to adjust
the eipiilihrium in social and political affairs, and at certain
critical junctures, are thus enabled to count as the cele-
brated "straw" that breaks the camel's back, or as the
fraction of a grain over that sunders the most ponderous
cables of steel, and in a heroic worship that ignores minor
and extraneous causes they get the exclusive credit for
marvellous potency and even superhuman ability. Some
of these have attained distinction, but failed as " Reform
ers," and it may not be altogether an absurd conceit to
regard such as human prodigies who, coming into the world
seemingly centuries before their allotted time, meander
about the earth in intellectual abstraction and ideal iso-
lation. They are remarkable cases of pi'olepsis and their
])rincipal difficulty seems to be to bn<lgeover the, to them,
unnatural space intervening between the time when they
wep« and when they ought to have been born.
In the conflict of opinion to which reference has been
made, it is observable that our highest authorities and
most venerable counsellor's exhibit the largest share of
uncompromising hostility and unyielding intolerance.
The struggle never ceases, although it is variable, and
presents the more remarkable phases we term peace and
war — nevertheless, the strife goes on, the only material
10
REVKRIKS OK AN OLD SMOKKR.
<'haii<;«' licin^ in the weapons uhcmI- the " |»ik«* ami
lnoadswnnl" hein^, from time to time laid aside for the
less deadly "tooth and nail." Thus, with the same hitter-
neas of spirit, in either case, the conHict dwindles from
the more chivalrous appeal to arms to the no less mis-
chievous resource to abuse — in the first instance life \h
assailed, in the last character, and often those whom war
does not give us the <jua.si right to kill in this world we
avail ourselves of the blessings of peace to destroy in
the next.
A goodly share of the bitterness and opposition that
destroys the natural tranquillity of communities an<l
peoples, and denominations and sects, comes down to us
in the name and support of opinions and doctrines and
schisms which were propagated centuries ago, and which,
under a variety of forms and circumstances, have been
debated and wrangled, and quibbled over ever since. In
the chameleon-like category of pros and cons that have
heaped alternate eulogy and obloquy on <licta coming
down to us from extinct ages, and that have run the
gantlet of so many hard knocks, and undergone so much
nmtilating, patching, and restoring, it is not surprising
they should present themselves blackened, begrimed,
distorted. If, then, we would try to think of them as
they were in the fresh vitality of their living day, it is
of the firat importance to consider the characteristics of
the times that gave rise to them ; but in the effort to
familiarize oui-selves with the nature of exigencies in the
past, that had so much to do with the moulding of
nYunSKS Oh' HISTORY.
11
UiMii'^'lit, «'xprr's.si(»naiMl rxindiriit, we aiviiici l>y an inHii-
pcniMc oliHtaclt'. I nicnii tlic (liHiciiltyof tnins(N).sin;^oiii'
exisU'iKM' l»y tljosc wrrtcluMl rout<;.s ami <^il«l«Ml v«4nclr.s
tlirough countless decades liack into reniot*^ times, and try-
in*,' to feel the influences that controlled, not only nations,
but coinniunities and sects,and individuals, whose lanj^uaj^e
an<l sentiments it is absolutely necessary to undei*stand, to
correctly interpret the true meanint^ of their words an<l
actions. This stu^mdous undertaking is univei'sally
shirked or a<lroitly smoothed over to suit the purposes of
partisan wiiters and relic-mongers who go l)ack and pre-
] )are the way for pleasure parties of mar vel-lo v ing excursion-
ists — and these, we may add, not re(|uiring to Ix' transport-
ed bodily,are spirited aljoutthrouglithe mediumof a species
of " half hour series" in which the hungry student, in
the dreamy ecstasy of .an appetizing imagination, is enabled
to compass the events of centuries in a space the size of
a reHned sandwich and to swallow the tempting repast of
an exhumed dynasty at a gulp. The litei-ary gastrono-
mers who dress and serve these bits of mummy dom to suit
the fastidious taste of modern epicures, are men who glory
in the mission of reclaiming the hidden treasures of bygone
days ; and this superhuman task, notwithstamling it is in
•lirect violation of the laws of nature, they not only profess
to have achieved, but with a generasity, sanctified by their
own mental destitution, have bequeathed the invaluable
store to posterity. So it is, like thieves in the night, we
sneak in by stealth and gorging ourselves with all they
can cany, strut abroad with the memory loaded down with
12
ItKVKIlIKS oK AN <»I,I) SMnKKft,
oliMol«'t«« wriiltli wliifli only pnsHrH cnin'nt till tli<' iiioro
Not»pti('al,wl)oHe want of criMliility ren<l<u-s thciii iin{N)piilHi',
rovenjifo thou selves by oxposifij^r tlie frainl an«l provin;? it
roimtrrfiMt. i)f cou!*so, iimiiy who havr a larp' ainoiiitt of
this sort of trash in stock arc not rsporially anxious to
liavo tluMr anthoritit's inipcaclwMl.and Uicitly <!ons(»nt to Im»-
lievt' what it nii;(]it Im» extrrniciy (Mnlmrrassinj^ to (liscnMJit.
Hero wo may not<' that the dillieulty referred to, of
feeling the live pulse of past events, Ih niostfrequently over-
eonip hy a convenient, and, in fact, necessary twist ahout.
'I'!iatis,hv turninirthe l»aek on mii immense anionnt of fruit-
less research, we hit upon the easy expedient of inv«'rtin]i^
tlie ordei- of time, — makinj^ the earlier action tnke its
character from the s'lhsetpient impression, an<l dovetail
with still later periods. Then, virtually, the stint of
divinin*^' any sentiment or motive pertaining to the an-
tique, resolves itself not into an ancient hut a modern in-
ipiiry, an<l is no longer a nuitt4>r of how they felt, hut what
'?w think. ( ■ont<'mporaries and eye-witm\ss<'s are repu-
<]inted as incompetent evidence, and to get a proper
knowle<lgo of wluit trans|>ired in the times past we must
r(»ad wluvt is written in times j)resent. The conseiiuence
t)f such a cluonological atrocity is to make all generations
ami epoclis assimilates and amenable to our own, and in
this manner we virtually ignore the cMpiitable i)rinciple
that times as well as circumstances alter cases.
li
UYiJONI-^S OK lirSTOllV.
18
III.
I «io not pick tlirso flaws for tlio piirpohu of in Tr iilltM'u-
villin;;, l)iitjtssu;^;;»»stivo of niatcriiil <liscrr|mnci«'M rrj^jinl-
in<^ many of tliosc representations which onr e\poun<lerH
hold upfoi'uut' benefit and ji^uidanceetjnecrnin;; the tea<'hin^
of opinions and ovonts whicli, deH[)ito the alienations of
time, are ^rnbhed up, resuscitated, and rchahilitatcd, and
set to modern use. Sickly defoiniities of truth some of
them are too, witli pedigrees sacuodly remote, and many
with physiognomies d la T(niss<>an, are only waxen im-
ages of atrocious not>>ihles, modell<>d in tlu^ bilious hallu-
cination of ai*t dreamers, and set up for adoration in a
sanctuary of horroi*s. But, presuming, ami tluit very ra-
tionally, that to <livin«^ tl»o futuic we must know the
pjist, We leave the musty recoi'd of the latttsr to be
studied up by " book worujs," wlio profess, after a short
application to the subji^ct, to give us a full explanati<ni of
all that has transpired. Aye, and some have even had the
audacity to wiite over their puny memoranda, " History
of the World !" History of the world ! yes, History of the
world. Far be it from my purpose to disparage tluMr efforts,
I need not ; ignorance or policy may (;omm<'nd their egot-
ism, buttlu^y mv sufHciently reproved by the very know-
ledge of which they plumi^ themselvt.'s, — the medium by
which they seek to eidighten their age only going to show,
simply, liow little they know. Meanwhile tliese id(;nti-
cal peoph^ themselves, who have i'njo^ed the rare privi-
lege of glimpses over that boundless expanse of fallow
mystery open to literary exploration, and those especially
14
HKVKUIKS OF AN Of.D SMOKKR
wlu* have skiiiiiiied over and evfii so iinprifectly siirvry»Ml
ilio prodigious sidijcct, on^jlit, of uU imn, to feel the most
hiiiuMt; and i;;nomiit, and Ik3 adiiionishcd in tlirir own
estiiiiution, liow iiiiscnihly inade<|uate, liovv nu'iiit tlieii*
puny scmpinj^, and liow infinite tlio ^^ivat mass of foi-
]»idden knowled«5'e heyond their reach I A^in, were I
disjK)Hed to <lispara«^e theseso-calle<l " learned men," from
whom it is customary for ♦^cat nudtitudrs and untliiitk-
in^ uuisscs to tak(! their inter|)retations of law and ;,'osp«'I,
it wouhl he wliolly unnecessary when it is considered how
much more vigorously and eHcctively they disparaj^e each
other. It were a thankless Uisk, indee<l, to show that ever
Hinee tlie dawn of their enlightenment, the worhl hashcen
plunged into even greater ol>scurity by the flood of their
elueiilation ; hut however this may he, there is one feature
in their cultured physiognomy j)rolifie in ugliness, which
no amount of frescoing and patching, and roiuje-uuj will
ever effectually screen — it is that most regicttahle <lraw-
back that instead of harmonizing the elements of discord,
they have continued sowing the seeds of that prolific
growth — Dissension — the ploughing, and hoeing, and har-
rowing of which, under the direction of these " ovei-seers,"
have cost mankind more sweat, and tears, and Vjlood, than
all the other " ills that flesh is heir to." Could we live
in fraternal accord with the decisions of any one generation,
we might he, all of us, unanimous and haj)py ; hut, as in
the grab and greed of money-making, o in our instruc-
tion and enterprise generally, things arc come to such
a pass that one generation is thought a failure if it
II.
n^MioNi-^s OK iiisruuv.
i:>
«l(M's tint outstrip u precoiliii^, am! so all, oi- vt'iy iiiurli,
tliiit oiiu provoH tlic other atttMiipts, aiKJ, not alto-
"ftlier iiriMUccvssfully, U) disprove. Takin;,' History a.s
an example, wu may tusk, how much are we indebted to
our '*.scril>eH" for their evidence a^iinst their predeccHHoi-M,
and for thii accumulation, or rather suKstitution, of au-
thoritative iccord. Are we adjured not U) nad fiction ^
Where sliall w«; find a more prrt«'ntious one than is eom-
prived in themyria<lsof volumes of so-called historical fact
showered down ujmhi the jXK)r, credulous, unsuspeetin;;
clans who read and helieve every tliin;^ and anything that
comes through certain scholastic chaimels, and pur|M)rts
to 1>e a fjimd JUle chronicle. Amon<( other Haws in His-
tory, we may notice here, it records its "mountain" of pre-
judice with the same solemn, unimiH^achahle air that it
ekes out its " molehill " of truth; and its only redeeminj^
featuie, if indeed we may call it such, is that later " 1ns-
torians," it may he with no higher object than to estab-
lish their own individuality, prove, or attempt to prove,
it a lie ; and thereupon set alK)ut clearing up reputations
and events, that, according to them, have long l>een mis-
undei'stooil, and either basked in the sunshine of un-
merited esteem, or been draggled along under an ever
increasing burden of undeserved oblo(|uy. In the lat-
ter case they deserve our highest commendation, our
heartiest support ; we could even forgive them for
explo<ling many pet theories, and for dis<iualifying many
favorite authorities, but how can we suH'er these
ruthless spcU-breakei's to swoop down upon those beauti-
u
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
ful creations of fancy whose reality and authenticity
have always been zealously and religiously vouched for,
and which believing them to be true has enhanced our
interest and made our hearts throb with reverential awe
and adoration. Some of these have been narratives of
thrilling events, and anecdotes of great and good men set
before us and impressed on our memories, as truthful
examples and genuine specimens of actual life. With what
a pang, then, of long dormant but not quite extinct boy-
ish love and regret, do we surrender our faith in those
delicious deceptions to dispel which, though they be
all fancy, were a madness, perhnps, as unpardonable as
that which shattered the famous Portland Vase. Aye,
and why should not they be sacred too ? Is it because
the anniversary of their birth is not sufficiently mythi-
cal ? None lias the temerity to question or disturb the
importance and gravity of those even more miraculous e[)i-
sodes in the lives of saints and other instructive items of
hallowed origin submitted to modern credulity as a test
of faith, then why question those precious examples of
profane heroism that embellish the early record of our in-
dividual and national life ? We leave David and his tiny
" sling " alone, and Samson and his "jaw-bone," together
with the " fox-tails and fire-brands." We do not inter-
fere with the domestic accounts of Adam and Eve, nor con-
tradict the wondrous narrative of the erratic tribe of Is-
rael, then, why disturb the poems of Homer and Ossian,
and Chatterton — why <liscredit the story of Crops-^s, of
Cincinnatus, of Regulus ? Nay, I fain they had left us
" Diogenes and his tub," " Arthur and his Round Table,"
BYGONES OF HISTORY.
17
"Tell and his applo," ami last, Imt not least, "Washington
and Ills little hatchet." Tn this connection too, we are re-
minded of a late pu)>lication hy a distinguishe<l writer
an<l contemj^orary,* and again we see the hand of the
exultant iconoclast raised, as thumbs once were in the Coli-
seum at Rome ; now, it is not the miserable existence
of some doughty gladiator that is in jeopardy, but the
story of two precious lives in our nation's history —
there is a flourish of that magic quill — a subterranean
rumble is heard, — the foun<lations of our National archives
tremble and quake — and, presto, that page whereon tht"*
posterity of Columbia were wont to portray the love and
devotion and' sacrifice of a heathen girl, yawns a }>lank,
empty chasm ; and the sublime tableau of Pocahontas,
saving the life ,>f Capt. John Smith, is no longer a matter
of fact, but a thing of fancy.
We shall not stop here to estimate the delicious waste
of tears that have been shed over what up to a recent
period we never doubted were the " Last Words" of dying
notables, recorded by men whose joyless mission it has
})een to haunt death-bed scenes; and, following the spirit of
departing greatness into the vestibule of the other world,
have listened, with their ear glued to the key-hole of
eternity for the last intelligible utterances of expiring mor-
tality.
Suffice it to say the examples above cited, and ho.sts of
others belonging to the same category, are all that com])Osed
I
* William ("ullin Bryant, in his new History «)f the Fuited States, pro*
uuces evidence to disprove the story of Poccihontas.
H
18
REVERtES OF* AN OLD SMOKER.
the desert, the sparkling wines, the frosted confectionery,
the floral exotics of that sweet, sumptuous historical ban-
quet that regaled our hungry, credulous, boyish days; and
yet, like all else we loved, they must needs be wiped out
like fox find geese marks on a slate, and vanish away as
have the pops and candied sweets of dear old Santa
Claus. Nay, they do not perish for good, but will
reappear in other forms of so-called truth to enchant
and deceive and delight successive generations of ju-
veniles, who will laugh and cry and applaud the mar-
vellous con.jp cVctil as in pantomime, while the older ones,
as they get sufficiently knowing to detect the pleasant de-
ception are prevented from making a disturbance by being
quietly removed from the audience. We talk of History,
foi*sooth — it is not History at all in the sense we take it
as l)eing all unbiassed and reliable, but rather romance
written by men who plume themselves on beinsr some-
thing more genuine than novelists, and claim as an
excuse for being prosy, that they are truthful. Here, too,
we may observe how wonderful it is the little some of these
are enabled to build upon, that is, I mean when they have
cleared away all the rubbish accumulated by rival
authors. Here and there a dead leaf, a dried twig, an
irrefragable knot, and on these they base their interesting
modern styled fabric, and grow those gorgeous avenues of
arboreal magnificence that do not only represent the lordly
manor of biographical story, and the stately boulevard of
matter of fact events, but open up an ever green and
blooming arch leading from the present back through the
BYGONES OF HISTORY.
19
tionery,
cal ban-
iys;and
ped out
away as
1 Santa
but will
enchant
of ju-
he mar-
ier ones,
isant de-
by being
History,
e take it
romance
Iff some-
as an
ere, too,
of these
ey have
rival
wig, an
eresting
enues of
le lordly
3vard of
•een and
mgh the
►V
i ut iind slough of exhumed generations to the Renais-
sance. So it is from the tiny attic of this or that
favorite author, we are enabled to lOok out, and at a
glance behold the wondrous fascination of the pjist down
through an illuminated vista wherein plays that mystic
fount of literary lore, whose pyrotechnic splendoi's, <lwind-
ling away into the remoter gloaming, are confounded in
the grotes<iue shadows of the anti([ue, or eclipsed in
the more refulgent lunacy of a traditional age. Notwith-
standing, however, the little value we may be dispos-
ed to set on History as Fact, taken an the commonly
accepted dandard of ti-uth, it is unimpeachable, and
hence the libraries of the world always have been, and al-
ways will be, esteemed an invaluable acquisition to the
intellectual wealth of mankind. But while, as we have
intimated, it is impossible for a reflective mind not to feel
a certain contempt for even such proiligious grar;ari€s of
knowledge as these, nevertheless, in the popular disposition
to believe and not to think, we find the ungracious task of
arraigning history opposed by such potent, not to say,
salutary influences as are dictated by public policy and
social conservatism. So it is, that nui-sed and cradled on
the bosom of a slumbrous faith, we glide tranquilly along,
lulled, rather than disturbed, by the rippling wavelets ;
and hence the fretful sceptic, who obtrudes his unwelcome
visage in opposition to the general current, is looked upon
by sects and institutions somewhat as the festive occu-
pants of a Mississippi steamer regard the protruding muz-
zle of some ugly " snag."
20
UKVKRIKS OF AN OM) SMOKKR.
IV.
It is HO imicli more cont^onial to favor than eomlemn,
and feeling that the treasure of the dead is tlie}»irthri^ht
of the living, we woidd not see it ruthlessly plundered, or
even belittled — indee<l, it is the reading and transposing
of the sayings and doings of the defunct world, and reani
mating and blending them in our every day life and in-
tercourse, that seems to lengthen our existence ; .and it is
natural enough to suppose that,while such exercise enlarges
our comprehension of the future, it makes the record of the
past the fruitful study of the present. Leaving out, then,
the question of the truth or falsity of that record, and re-
garded simply as a heritage of useful precept, it is a bless-
ing; but as the medium for perpetuating old time spite and
grudge and feud, it, and all pertaining to it, is a curse as
much woi-se than hereditary disease, that whereas the one
only stints and afflicts an individual or family, the other
impoverishes and distresses not simply a nation, but a
whole race of people, and viewed in many ways, the ill
seems almost to overbalance the good. Societies, systems,
customs, come down to us festeiing and putrid with the
daminng sores of an incurable scurvy, the offspring of a
debauchery that would make ol)livion charity, and in
their most virtuous aspect scarred all over with the atroci •
ties of earlier generations. These, of themselves, are
wholesome warnings to stay awa}'^, and sermons of sur-
passing eloquence in favor of repudiation, but, unluckily,
w'ith many of these arc transmitted the germs of r(3newed
BYGONKS OF HISTORY.
21
devotion, and the instruments of still further mutilation
and with all their " culture," a means of torture still
more highly refined. Strange as it may seem, too, these
art' revealed in the very resources by which we seek im-
munity, or at least a cure. In other words, we appeal
to our Doctors of Divinity, and fin<l them not healing
wounds, but irritating passions, and if not propagating
strife, at least nui"sing its offspring. So it is that, in this
dilenmia, we feel constrained to ask ourselves if we had
no " theology ; " if we had no " Doctors of Divinity," if wo
had norecordsof the past,how should we be affected ? Well,
we would, in the nature of things, have a religion, but no
Creed and then " sin," so far as we were concerned, wouhl
be in its infancy ; and, without the professor to teach us its
pedigree, it would lose one of its most popular claims to
aristocratic distinction, and we should feel in a measino
restored to the new-born democracy of primitive vi tue.
V.
No man can feel a profounder interest in the relics
of olden times than I, and yet the feeling with which
I regard many of them is, that their antiquity is their ex-
clusive virtue, and so far as the practical utility of the
things themselves are concerned, we may venture to affirm
they had been better not to have been so old. Amongst
these shreds of mummydom we glory, in here a tuft of
real hair — there a genuine molar — again a veritable toe-
nail — they constitute the only authentic points about his-
tory that give a tangibility to the past, and may bo
22
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKEK.
regarded as the black dots that punctuate our modern
chronicle of by -gone peoples and events — the blank spaces
between being filled up, as before noticed, to suit the taste
and prejudices of any subse(iuent age or sect, (furious
as are many of these relics in substance, so would lie and
are some of the more conservative rules of living — customs,
dogmas, creeds pertaining to theUi; but while I yield in-
voluntaiy homage to the venerable nsju'ct of any one of
these, I cannot withhold that sympathy inspired by its in-
firmities. Chronologically, dead, as it is, I find it im-
possible to take its stiff, pulseless hand, clammy with the
damp of mouldering centuries, and feel in it any of the
animating spirit of persuasion and none of the magic in-
s[)iration that cheers with " hope of new life." I am con-
vinced there is greater weight, and that we may place far
more reliance on experience and opinions, if not contem-
porary with, at least, approximating, our own special time
and condition. It may not be eloquent, it may not be
learned, it may not be refined, and yet in the weakest
voice that lives there is a power akin to the Mighty — the
word then, instead of percolating through the musty cat-
acombs of obsolete scholardom, or through the more mod-
ern, but no less irresponsible dust of mouldering experts,
comes direct from the living fountain of that human heart
which throbs in fraternal unison and sympathy with our
own, and which feeds and reanimates an intellect vital-
ized by that ever-rejuvenating Power, whose finger is upon
our pulse, and who sees and provides for the wants of
t^ach new second of our life. Hence it secnis to me, to en-
BYGONES OF HISTORY.
29
p-aft upon our feeble and easily bewildered faculties the
|)estiferous perplexity and ever accumulating burden of
abstruse antiquated theorj'^ is to oppose instead of facili-
tating the purpose of its design, besides conflicting with that
wise and gi-ateful indulgence which, granting us immunity
from the past, also gives to each generation the instinc-
tive attributes incident and necessary to its preservation
and well-being both in this and the next world. Nay, it
is not on the battered tablets of Time ; not amongst the
uncertain hieroglyphics of an obsolete age we may seek
and find the solution of the exalted mystery of Life
and Destiny ; but rather in that revelation unfolded to
the simplest understanding, in the inexhaustible variety
of our beautiful, fructifying World, and we divine and
greet the gladsome presages of Fate, not in the extinction
but in the eternal reproduction of all things visible 1
There is nothing either in language or in script adequate
in expression to the ways of the All-wise, and we be-
hold the image of the Master only in the impress of his
Works. It was through this medium He revealed Himself
to the race at a period as far back as the invention of
seeing and hearing ; and the impression which our doc-
trinal tutors seek to convey, that the Author of Creation
should only have been known and adored since the dawn
of our very modem Christianity is a libel as false as the
egotism that records it is preposterous.
VI.
History, catering to popular prejudice, erroneously en-
deavors to make the worship of the Supreme Being not,
^— ^
u
UKVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKH.
only in pr-imitive tiiin's, l)ut in certain alien localities
Bince then, as grotesque aw [mssible ; indeed, those dusky
days without our sun are ma<l6 to constitute the darker
obscurity which heightens the contrast that glorifies our
modern enlightenment. It is only patent, perhaps, to
those who take the pains to think, how severe this must
be on those wlio have l)een so unfortunate as to precede
us; and, notwithstanding the immense leverage of jmblic
opinion to the contrary, I venture on the assumption that
even the earlier inhabitants of our globe, not U) mention
those like ti em contemporary with oui*selves, were as
sincere in their homage to our common Creator, and that
they commended themselves to Divine approbation (juite
as acceptably and as eftectually as do we in the present
day. It is true their mannei-s, like many other worthy
old fashions, may seem to us ludicrous in the extreme,
and their forms of worship may have partaken largtjly
of this apparent discrepancy, but I believe it was the fault
of appearances only — that their ceremonies, while being
simple were heart-felt, and although symbolical were all
the more efficiently adapted to the uncouth habits of a
people who, with all the damnable characteristics attri-
buted to them, never wanted in true devotion to, nor
lacked that guileless confidence in, the scriptless muni-
ments of their faith. We need not, I feel assured, in the
superabundance of our pious egotism, carry either our
sympathy or our condemnation, or our contempt, back so
far, and while pitying and praying, scoff and jeer at
those " poor lost heathens" who, we say, knew naught of
BYGONES OK HISTORY.
25
our God, anil jKjrishe*! without our Saviour. In this
connection, we may venture, still further in the <lang«»rouM
role of speculator, an<l to any one of the countless mil-
lions who would conscientiously know what '^nwl inHu-
ence, if any, might have saved these " poor creatures," aye
and still succoi-s those like them, and to all those who
wonder what soi*t of a Deity they could have had, ami
may still have, I would say : — Throw down the stinted
volumes that aspei*se but do not explain the stoiy of their
darkened lives — crawl out of the gutters and sluice-ways
that feed without cleansing the fetid sewers of your
gluttonous " culture ;" mount up into the higher regions
of sun-light and pure air — up, like Moses did, to the
highest pinnacle of some lofty etninencc — and instea<l
of shutting your eyes in saintly communion, open them
wide and feast your vision on all you see ! Then if
you forget all about self in the multifarious charms of the
varied landscape ; if for a time your puny catechism, your
stingy creed, your cramped little church, and all the
peevish wrigglers that figure there, dwindle away to noth-
ingness, and are lost to thought — if in the rapture of
exstacy and awe you exclaim, how grand, how beauti-
ful, how sublime ! you shall, in the echo of your own im-
pulsive praise, receive not only the answer as to who was
and is the God of the heathen, but also imbibe a truer and
l)etter conception of the all prevailing infinitude of that
i-eligion which appeals alike to the pagan, the savage, the
iiiHdel, and to none more |K)werfully than to the unlet-
lered, the despised, the abandoned.
26
REVRRIES OF AN OLD 8M0KKR.
VII.
There is a Form, whose outline in the perfect syniinetry
of the universe, and the harmony of whose parts is the
faultless Mending of creation. Its spirituality is heaven
its»'lf ; its substance, the earth. We look up at the sky
and see the benign attributes of its beaming Countenance,
and in the general aspect of this incomparable Being we be-
hold, inrapture,all the superb phenomena of Nature ! This
is the (jiod of the heathen, the Creed of the creedless, and
they need none of the auxiliaries of classic lore to teach
them, It is genuine. It is l)eautiful, It is Divine ! It
speaks to them in the thunder of the tempest. It whis-
pers in the sighing of the wind ; It prattles in the brook-
let. It murmurs in the sea ; It warbles in the sunshine,
It rumbles in the cloud ; It is wafted over sea and land,
— up the steep incline of mountain, down into the deep-
est declivity of valley ; It echoes amongst the dwelling-
places of the outcast, It searches out the most sequestered
haunts of man, and the humblest and meanest require
none of the splendid revelations of a learned creed to tell
them whose voice it is, and the heathen of ever so long
ago (not even excepting those of to-day), could they have
listened and felt there was no law, no government, no re-
straint ? No ! to the most primitive and unenlightened
of our race these echoes were, and are, the mandates of
&n indisputable authority, and they complied, and still
comply, with a guileless simplicity, whose unlettered creed
records no high-toned precedent for disobedience.
DYOONI-ilS OF HISTORY.
27
Finally, let us ank how does our suKsidi/AMl theology
compare witli their unsophi.sticated faith. The geologist
amongst the rocks crumhles a hit of earth in the hollow of
his hand, and is lost in the |)ci-plexity of atmtnise analy-
sis—his standard isgold, his tlrenni profit. The "child of
the forest," near him, folding his arms in eont<Mnptof the
grovelling ra<lical, divines a suhlimer feature ii; the
grand tableau outspr«;ad Iwfore him, and raising his
glistening eyes in the prou«l consciousness of a still nohler
perception, sees in the majestic profile of the mountain-
si<lt3 the contour of the Supreme, ami in the uplifted arm
of some lofty overreaching cra,g a gesture of the Omnipo-
TKNT.
^ee-Siito ni Sea.
A SEE-SAW AT SEA.
(an item from the diary ok a (JREEN-HORN.)
I.
IT was a revelation in destiny too pregnant with fate
to call it mere news — those few lines, I mean, dis-
entangled from the inexplicable confusion of the puzzling
future, and laid before me in a neat, legible hand -writing,
conveying the unexpected, but no less welcome, intelli-
gence, that I was to take up my residence for an indefinite
period in London, England, the matter having been all
settled that I was to leave at once by the good ship S<fr-
matiany of the Allan line, advertised to sail from Port-
land, the 12th April.
Some time has elapsed since then ; but it seems only
yesterday I gathered ni}"^ traps together preliminary to
tlie journey in question, and having bade adieu to many
kind friends, and taken a tender leave of home, l>oarded
the train at Buft'alo, with a through ticket in my pocket
for the sea-bo2H*d, via Syracuse and Boston. A pleasant
and instructive route that way, it is too, as 1 can vouch,
there being an excellent service of traiiLsand a great deal of
enjoyable scenery ; indeed, whatever one's prejudices may
be, he can't well help admiring New England, with the re-
32
4H
RKVKRIES OP AN OLD SMOKER.
inin<ler it so cliarmingly piesfnts of OM Enj^lancl, an«l
though it may not ciilininatt; in a climax of such <,'ian-
ileur ami imjx)rtance as that which <listinguishos the cMer
monarchical sire, nevertheless one must admit Boston is
an honor and j^lory to the Fatherland, and although
comparatively in its haby-hood, as it is common to con-
sider all cities in the New World, it struck me, in the
mere glance I obtained of it as l)eing a remarkal>ly fine
youngster. With this preamble, I beg to avail myself of
my notes tsiken at the time, to cull the following items
from my diary as a Green-horn.
I was late in arriving at Portland, havin<^ stopped over
at Yarmouth, but there lost no time in g ocing fixed up
and putting on a disreputable old suit, which 1 had been
given to understand was the con-ect thing to do prepara-
tory to a sea voyage. Then I fussed about, and was impatient
to get off as a champagne cork, and knowing the uncer-
tainty to which all things are subject, the idea of being
left behind set me in a perspiration ; became nervous
at the thought all the rest might have, and probably had,
arrived on the scene, and were now discreet mBsters of
the situation, whilst I had recklessly put off m. f;';ijF:my
appearance till the last moment. I was struck in Ma
dilemma with the idea of inquiring, just when the ship
would sail ; it was a happy thought, and i bounced out
of my room in quest of the information. Alas, I could
get no reliable intelligence — nobody, not even the clerk
in the hotel, seemed to know anything about the matter
whatever. I became surprised, impatient, vexed ; it did
A SKE SAW AT SEA.
33
e uncer-
not avail. I importuned ami ravcJ, 'i'Twiis all in vain."
HeiT! let me explain: — This narrative is only partially
exaggerated. I was a novice. I had come from afar —
from a country wliere the " Allan Line," its ships, and all
ahout them were household talk, and the prideand lx)ast of
the people ; but here, I bitterly retiected, ina great connner-
eial city, and the port of embarcation.the sailing of the aSVcj-
imd'ian, of the Allan line, was, oh, horrors, entirely ig-
nored, and all that I could find out from the different ones of
whom I inquired, and I gave them all a chance to redeem
their ignorance, and kindly offered them every opportunity
to tell me all they knew — I repeat, all they could tell me
was, — there was supposed to be an English line of steam^
ers somewhere. This was my first set-back ; it was a
great blow to the pomp of my expedition, and my proud
spirit chafed at the obscurity that seemed to shroud its
great designs. In this show of ignorance and indifference
on the part of my countrymen, and the land for which I had
" fought and bled," there was, I felt, a sense of social obli-
vion that made me sad. I could have repined ; in my senti-
mental imagination it struck me forcibly that when an
ocean steamship was about to sail on a perilous voyage to
another hemisphere, freighted with human souls, the occa-
sion assumed an aspect at once solemn and imposing ; they
seemed like unto a company of voluntary exiles — repre-
sentatives as it were, of new and wonderful America —
called in the grand march of events by some laudable mis-
sion to sojourn, perchance, to lay down their lives amongst
a strange people afar off in the remote historic east. More-
c
n*
RKVKUIES OK AN OIJ> SMOKKU.
over tlierc was .something to inspire symi);ithy in a colder
heart than mine in the thought that dearly loved " Col-
umbia " recked naught of this departure, and that the
handkerchiefs of our prospective band of patriotic spirits
must needs, all unobserved, grow damp, not with colds nor
moist noses but from the owners' wai'mth of feeling in the
ordeal of parting from kindred land. These meditations
occupied some time and were fostered rather than dis-
turbed by my having taken a pretty strong pull at a mug
of very mild ale, and thereupon I became a willing victim
to the seductive wiles of a most tempting cheroot. These
tranquillizing elements had the desired effect to soothe my
excited feelings, and soon I settled down to the comfortable
enjoyment of a serene spirit. The light blue fragrant
smoke as it curled gently and prettily upward, and hov-
ered around, seemed to form a hazy screen betwixt me and
the unromantic, unpleasing realities of the world about,
and shut in, as it were, apart from the annoyances and tur-
moil of things in general, there was something in the cosy
atmosphere of the " weed," suggestive of cloud land, and
straight-way imagination peopled the little sphere with
the images of those loved and absent ones whose smiling
faces and well remembered forms, blending in a cheery wel-
come, always lend a ruddy hue to one's thoughts, and while
they bring to mind the reminiscences of happy tiixies past
never fail to re-inspire one with hopes of good times to
come.
Waking with a sigh from these reveries, I turned re-
luctantly to the business in hand, called a " cab," hustled
A SKE-SAW AT SEA.
35
my titips in and set out for the wharf wlicro it lm<l bcon
intimated the English steamer might })e expected. Here
too, I was again disappointed. Had been looking for-
ward to seeing an immense crowd of people and passengers
nearly, if not all arrived, and all the great preparations and
ado attendant on our near departure. On the contrary, all
was quiet ; a few boxes and odds and ends were being
stowed away, and a few listless individuals of the family of
tag-rag looking on, evidently without legitimate object or
interest, but there was nothing in the general aspect of
things to lead one to suppose the ship was not going to
remain there in perfect repose all summer. Well, I soon
ascertained I had made a mistake in the date of sailing
and that I would have to wait over till the next day, so
leaving my tnmk and other things in a conspicuous place
on deck I went back up town to my hotel.
II.
In the evening I went to the theatre, where I heard
there was to be a very entertaining performance. The
play was " Black Crook," a sort of pantomime, which, in
America as in England, means a bewildering exhibition
of lower extreiDities, in which the principal parts are
taken by legs; they don't say anything, but, notwithstand-
ing they are mute, the effect makes silence more impres-
sive than words. As regards the attire, I scorn to notice
so small and useless an item — suffice it to say, the skirt, in
this instance, stood out, and was about the same size and
36
KEVEIUES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
:
shapt' as a parasol — asi<le from tliis, a close Httiii;^ tnh of
some gauzy illusion was the only bill of expense art could
claim, or cold-hearted economy detect. There was, no doubt,
a Hjwll in ih&iweh — and notwithstanding it was of the most
doubtful reality, we, all of us, gazed in rapture. It might
have been spun in an exjjuisite caprice of Venus from peach
blossoms,and was ethereal as the fragrance of roses while to
the thoughtless eye of admiration it seemed no more than
the lusty glow of health or the Mush of maidenly embar-
rassment — aye, Nature might well sigh in envy of the
fraud, and old Dame Prudence herself so far yielded to
the fascination, that she forgot to frown, and, like in the
luxury of some rare, delicious dream, nodded approval, as
if, in this uncanny vision, she had seen only some l)ewitch-
ing phantom of l>eguiled innocence. My bachelor preju-
dices did not prevent my remaining till the end of the
performance, after which I sallied forth into the dreary
desolation of the night. Next morning I awoke with
the " Lark," but did not begin to fly till about nine
o'clock. Meanwhile, a tremendous storm of wind and
snow and rain had set in, and struck dismay to the
hearts of all who expected, in a few short hours, to have
their first experience at sea. On the way down street
to the wharf, I bethought me of the "Lemon Theory."
With my bump of credulity well developed, even at that
early day, I had yielded readily to the influence brought
to bear — indeed, was betrayed and ci-uelly deceived by tht^
unanimity that had prevailed among my nearest and
dearest relatives and friends regarding the salutaiy effects
A SEE-SAW AT SEA.
.17
ot* leiiiuiis catcii at sea. Vvoin a novice loii-sily Uucaiae a
convert, and finally got to believing with the rest, that
h^mons would make; .sea sickness pleasant. I espied a
fresh importation of this agreeable antidote through a
shop-window and paused. I seemed to hear the suasive
voice of friends in rei'choed injunctions, to buy some, and
hesitating only long enough to make a Ciireful esti-
mate of ca[)acity and means, finally hit upon an average
of twenty ; the idea suggeste* I itself also to add a few for
home-sickness also, so I invested in a total of two dozen.
Then 1 had a grand feast of oyster's, of which I am especi-
ally fond, and managed, notwithstanding my rai)idly ac-
cumulating responsibilities, to reach the ship in safety.
1 found about thirty passengers on board, and a great
deal of bustle and confusion ; my baggage had disap-
peared ; they left me a diminutive hand-bag and hat-box,
all the rest had vanished into that cavernous m3^stery
called the " hold." The storm had increased in severity,
and there was a strong likelihood of our having to remain
in port till it abated. This was not very cheering, and
my spirits had not risen with the appearance of the pas-
sengers, many of them a rough looking set, who, how-
ever, contrasted favorably with a couple of smartly
dressed, ostentatious owners of diamond bosoms, who
seemed to be local residents of the thriving " emporium "
of Portland.
The few ladies I saw, had no redeeming features
worthy of note; to say they could have been "adorned,"
would probably be misconstrued into an unkind in-
38
REVEniEH OF AN OLD SMOKER.
'I
Hinuatiun, an<] might appear enviouH ; Nuttice it tlion
if I waive all considerations l)ut those most in accord
with the promptings of a generous nature, and simply
say, theirs was not the vulgjvr style of beauty one is apt to
see cherished outside the home circle. The discrepancy
in api)arel was attributable no doubt to the economical
custom of people going on a voyage to put on those gar-
ments which, in a fit of chronic abstraction, they have
worn beyond the period which had made them acceptable
to decent " charities" or fit offerings, in these days of sen-
sitive vagrancy, even to the most needy. I was in a de-
cidedly gloomy frame of mind when I went below and
sought the seclusion of my state-room, but as I entered,
my eye immediately lighted on a little package of let-
ters which had been placed there by some good angel.
These most kindly and welcome messages of love and af-
fection, had the effect to restore the tottering equilibrium
of failing good nature and almost brought teai-s of grate-
ful acknowledgment to my eyes ; indeed, I felt tolerably
happy for the rest of the evening. About ten o'clock I
crawled into iin odd little crevice, nautically called a
" bunk," and for the first time in my life tried to feel
at home, and sleep aboard ship. I did not sleep — I only
dreamt ; it was a pleasant night-mare, however, to what
might have been expected, and, though I afterwards
found the bed and blanket into which I had insinu-
ated myself, a very comfortable soi*t of contrivance,
to get to liking it is no doubt an " acquired taste." In
the moniing, we found the storm, which had raged fierce-
A SEE-SAW AT SEA.
nu
\y all night, had in a measure Hpent its fury, and, though
it had not cleared off, preparations were being made to
get under way. In the meantime the certainty of hav-
ing to encounter a very rough sea, and many of us for the
fii-st time, made matters, in this respect, appear ominous ;
and we all looked that morning several shades bluer than
our average complexion.
III.
We breakfasted in dock, and about eleven o'clock, the
tide having served, the order was given to " Cast off.'*
There was a general rush for th'? deck, I being foremost
in the eager throng. Had donned my sea toggery, of course,
and now hastening to get outside, where it was snowy,
slippery and foolish to be, took up a position and struck
an attitude where I was in the way and most liable to be
knocked over, and tried to feel I was in f »r an enjoyable
holiday.
The fii-st sensations of " setting sail" were soon over,
and I began to lose all thought of self in the interest ex-
cited by the lazy majestic motions of the noble ship as
she began sleepily to respond to the action of her mam-
moth engines. We were very soon out of harbor, and
had only time to take a good look around before we
found oui*selves out on the broad ocean. For some
time I watched the movements of the sailoi-s and the
shij), and glanced again and again at the fast reced-
ing land, and thought, not without a pang, that Ame-
lica and "fatherland" would noon vanish from siirht.
40
IlllVKniKS OF AX 01, r> SMf^KKI;.
■H
1 I 1
Altliuiipjli tin; iiovtlty of my pohitioii kf^^t iiiy th(>ii;»1it:i
Ixisy ami my utioiitioii (HtcupitMl for noiiic time, this iii-
terestiii;^ reverie was, ere Ion;;, interrupted l»y the liell
ringing for kmelieon. That lio.spitahle call, in this in-
stance, as on fomier occasions, failed not to rouse my
dormant energies, and I prepared to go below. I will
explain, that while taking my ohservations in the man-
ner descrihed, 1 had found it necessary to have a double
grip on the rail, and if 1 ha<l had ehiM's on my heels
I should not have been too proud or indifferent to have
made use of them also. We were now right in the midst
of a rough, cross sea, which had risen all the higher as the
wind went down. The ship, too, which had been so lazy
and sluggish in harbor, seemed to have shaken off its
lassitude and got, all at once, frisky as a dolphin and light
as a paper kite. I thought I was well up in the theory of
riding a refractory donkey, but the motion against which
1 now" had to contend batHed all the principles, lules, by-
laws and exceptions that might have l)een, or could possi-
bly be written on the subject of a graceful accjuiring of
one's "sea legs;" hence I lost no time in snatching at the ru-
diments of this much neglected science, and in holding fast
by main and tail. When I let go, as I did, to make for the
saloon, the vessel gave an awful lurch^I made a grab for
something I didn't get a hold of, it had vanished suddenly,
and I caught instead a handful of air ; all at once saw the
deck coming right up at my face; stared at it in blank, help-
less amazement ; then made a push at it with both hands ;
it sank by magic. Hai)pened to look over my shoulder and
A SKE-SAW AT SKA.
n
aw my toriiiciitor coiiiiii;,^ tlic (»pjK».siU- wuy ainl iiiakiiij^
iliiectly for my ri;j^lit ear; instinctively toIesfojK.'<l ii|»lit
lo;^ an«l |)ai«l out a van I or two of left ; it wasn't a bad
manfL'Uvre at all for a beginner, that wasn't, if 1 <losay so;
tlieoi"etically it was witliout a blemish, but chronological-
ly, it showed want of practice; it was a failure in |>oint
of time, that was all. I <li<ln't reverse my en;^ines soon
enough and the next instant found myself reclining gently
but firndy on my right side ; there was a pause in the ele-
ments and 1 looked up in considerable end>arras.sment to
see what nnght be the next item on the programme. My
posture was that of the " dying gladiator " ; enjoyed a mo-
ment's repose in that chissic postiue, and then scrand)le«l
up and resumed my interesting journey, at the same time
making greedy eft'orts to pick up and handle over every
thing I could lay my hands on by way of ballast and main-
stay. Indeeil, it was only by splicing odds and ends as
well as I could, to the object in hand, I made <nit at last
to reach- tlie door leading into the saloon.
IV.
Not having secured my seat in time, the one assigned me
was, of course, at the further end from where I was; this ne-
cessarily entailed ((uite a long promenade under more diffi-
culties and exposed to more observation than a modest can-
didate cares to endure, even under circumstances the most
favorable. I paused on the tlireshold to take aha.sty sur-
vey and to think how nice it was and how very invigorating
the sea air. Here again \anity rallied her vanquished
42
RnvKrin-is OF AN <»rj) hmokku.
vm
\m I
eagles ; ami I iletennintMl to make a sensation and give
an impromptu exhibition of steady marching. I might
have succee<le<l hut the ship liehaveil l>a(lly and made my
standing apparatus "a dehision and a snare;" would plunge
forward a little way in right direction, then chass^ right
and left, then bolt. If I notice<l any one watching me I
would subside immediately, sit down and try to look as if
I had airived at my destination — that I had no idea of
going any further. Perhaps when that party looked back
again, after a while, to the spot where his impertinent
curiosity had left me serene, perhaps, I say, I wasn't
there ; may be I watched my opportunity when no bo<ly
was on the lookout, to venture forward. May Ihj this
was the case ; would not swear it was not. Supposing,
however, I was not there, and also allow'"<g that ingrati-
tude, blasphemy and despair, fit qual prominently
developed to invite interest and inquiry, I should have
been found, without a doubt, not far off — I know I should,
holding fast on some thing and contemplating in silent
anguish the vicissitudes of further progress. Reaching
my seat at last I dropped into it like an aerolite and
endeavored to look calm, unruffled and at home. Have
thought since, I overdid the matter of trying to seem at
home, and proljably assumed an aspect of more gravity
than is altogether in keeping with the enjoyment of
such a blessing. I thought, too, I detected an amused ex-
pression on the face of one of the stewards, and suspect-
ing the reason, glowered back upon that particular waiter
with a look of ill- concealed antagonism ; was impressed
A 8EE-SAW AT SEA.
4:1
with a feeling that it wa.s not an appropriate concern
for a display of levity ; said nothing, however, directly ;
urn opi)Ose<l to reproving servants at tahle, and I refrained
now, but in answer to his very respectful inquiry as to
my wants, I said, with considerable asperity, " Lobster I"
While this was l)eing brought i took a glancearouncL ( )ppo-
site was the Rev. Arehdeacon McLean, of Manitoba, a
robust, happy father, in the nii<lst of a numerous family.
On my left was a Major Pope, of Quel)ec, a thoroughbred
old war-horse, and to my right, the owner of the diamond
studs. The lobster, with an elaborate dressing and the
tempting side up, was now placed before me ; and I forth-
with began the manipulation of this my favorite salad.
Was in no hurry, in fact began to think 1 was not hungry
after all, and that ii was rather spiritual divei*sion than
a carnal gorging I needed most. Indeed there was some-
where in the inscrutable regions of my sensitive organism,
a new-born hankering suggestive of some nameless rel-
ish, but iu the venal giasp of mere tteshly appetite, the soul
could rise no higher in its conception than to imagine a
tonic in the air Ah, was it the stuffy, soupy atmosphere,
I wonder ? I thought it was, there is such a dearth of ven-
tilation in these places— suppressed a sigh, and glanced
wistfully at the sky-lights. Am not sure but that I
had been feeling, for some time, just a little unpleasant-
ness; perhaps I had, but if so, ignored it as a cat
would a mouse. I tried to pass it oft' as constitutional,
I fought it down with conservative gallantry, and was
bound to " on with the dance." The ship at this i)eriod
44
UEVRRFES OF AN OLD SMOKEH.
Ijc^aii tu kick her stem up inigiity hiyli, tlictnluwii, down,
US if she had no hind legs at all. I was sitting near tlie
tail end, as 1 said before, and conse(|uently, was in a posi-
tion to take a deep, I umy niiy, an agonizing interest in
these peculiar antics. There is no doubt in my mind
it was tliis diabolical motion that overcame — not my
resolution but my powers of resistance. Things began to
get confused and dark — there seemed about everything,
that peculiar shadowy undulation so charmingly chara(;-
teristic of marine life, with the additional variety of a
rotary accompaniment. T was conscious there was the
incipient stage of a revolution in my stomach, and also
had a melancholy presentiment of a conspiracy and an
uprising amongst the oysters 1 had taken into my confi-
dence at Portland. It was beginning to affect me badly,
and still I bore, not up, but dov/n ; even smiled at the
Major's last joke, a sickly, ghastly smile, which, had it as-
sumed the rank and volume of a laugh, would have been,
sepulchrally speaking, a success — that smile, however,
soon went away, it was not wanted by the only one to
whom it could appeal for patronage. I had a confused
idea that a good many people in the saloon were scam-
])ering away — that there was a commotion among the
Archdeacon's family — the American was no longer visible,
and the Major was silenced. From gazing vacantly about,
I had settled upon a wild contemplation of the saloon-
door, and the least possible distance between me and se-
clusion. The boat made another vault up into the
Heavens, and collecting my disordered faculties for a
A SEE-SAW AT SKA.
45
mi^'bty ettori, I cast oft" tVotn iny scat ami pa«l«llc(l for iny
stiite-room, regartlless uf cveiytliiuj^ save tlit* cunseious-
lU'ss that I was about [)assiii^ through the fearful ordeal
of misery at sea.
I ought not to attempt to drsrrihe what followed —
ought to leavi! it to be understood ; besides, it involves
the lemon seijuel, and it would seem so much more be-
coming and g(;nerous in me to save those friends and re-
latives of mine tlie remoi-se of knowing wliat misery
their lemon scheme entailed. Let it sutHce then for me
to say, which I do without malice or reproach, that when
the crisis came I went straight for that lemon pile like a
rat to its bane — laid hold of one, and witli a i)reliminary,
brief, as my wants were pressing, began sucking. I also
gave one to a friend and fellow-sufferer — he was a you rig
man, naturally delicate, and as I had done him this little
turn purely out of kindness, was rewarded in observ-
ing he now regarded me somewdiat in the light of a bene-
factor. I thought how glad the poor boy's mother would
be. Soon our mouths were too full for utterance, but in
the eye of each might have been seen to kindle vows of
mutual admiration and good-fellowship; and on the coun-
tenance of the chief lemon propagator, especially, exulta-
tion and tviumi)h basked in the full enjoyment of consci-
ous victory. But, alas, that feeling did not enduro. Oh
joy, why art thou transient ! We had sucked on together
not to exceed one minute, the picture of infantile gratifi-
cation, when I observed a great silent metamorphosis steal-
I *
40
RKVKRIKS OF AN OT-D SMOKKR.
ing over the countenance of theyoung man, and a whitcnesH
like unto a fog settled down upon his naturally florid fea-
tures, all < which betokened an unmistakable change in his
barometer. I, too, began to feel a death-like sickness,
and a nausea which no language can describe; it seemed to
seize upon and monopolize, and pervert every natural func-
tion. We regarded one another in silent wonder and agony :
and there was mute, horrible disgust in theyoung man's eye,
as he fixed its dying gaze upon me, and pointed, with the
air of a man conscious, alas, too late, at the lemon I had
given him. He, no doubt, thought it was a contrived plan
to take a "rise" out of him. I was innocent, of course, but
felt, nevertheless, I had lost a friend and forfeited the
good- will of a fellow-being. I have a very vague recollec-
tion of what transpired for some time after this ; am quite
positive, however, about two things : first, I was not seen
skipping about the deck for manj'^ days ; secondly, I dis-
gorged all fanatical partisanship in the lemon theory.
My poor mortality for six long days was in sore distress,
but, thanks to the humanity of all on board, I was an
object of profound commiseration. On all occasions dur-
ing the time I have mentioned, there was an irrepressible
upward tendency — an unpleasantness " I struggled to for-
get." It was not till we hove in sight of Old Ireland, and
got a sniff of the fragrant odors of a land-breeze, fresh,
sweet and balmy from the heather-clad hills of "Erin,"
that I began to take an interest in mundane affaii's, and
to cleave with renewed relish to "the world, the flesh and
the devil." As we steamed up Lough Foyle at early sun-
A SKR-SAU' AT SKA.
47
rise of that fair spring morning, a marvellous recupera-
tion in Ixxly and spirit, made life again seem <lcar. There
was a gladness, too, in this fi]*st view of long-ch-eamed-
of foreign soil, that conquered all antipathies, even those
of illness, and as one poor ccmvalescent looked with ad-
miring gaze out upon the crumhling walls of " Green
Castle," it was not simply as a curious pile of picturesque
ruin it commended itself to his fancy ; nor yet as a
warning left there hy Time to admonish the overweening
strength of bumptious man; but rather the significant
exponent of a still greater change, the harl)inger of an
infinitely more felicitous destiny, -which, as a symbol, this
is only an inkling, and for which in language, there is no
phraseology, save, in like manner, to demolish as ex-
pressionless, all the worthless pile of kindless, meaningless,
vocabulary, and compress all the pathos of our nature into
that one best word, restored.
£
ht §hi\bob) of the ©nb.
j>
THE SHADOW OF THE END.
I.
T" TOOK up a newspaper the other day, and, glancing
-*- carelessly over its contents, was greatly shocked to
see the account of the melancholy death of young R .
It seemed to me all the more appalling that it should have
happened so near my home ; so close, indeed, that the shot
miufht have been heard in the dravvinjj-room. A friend
who was w^ith me at the time, and whose attention I drew
to the announceuicnt, expressed his disgust at it alto-
gether in terms of cutting reproof. Then he threw the
paper down in high dudgeon, and 1 thought not without a
look of contempt, as he regarded my grieved expression.
After this, when alone, on different occasions, my thoughts
would recur to the subject, and now and again I found
myself rapt in a profound reverie, in which I was con-
trasting my own conuniseration with liis indifference, or
rather, I should say, his condemnation, and trying to de-
duce therefrom what might be the relative bearing of
public opinion in the premises. These reveries gave rise
to thoughts, also, having a kindred leaning toward the
others, and the following is a hasty and imperfect group-
ing of ideas following the train of reflection as above.
r)2
REVKRIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKR.
i ^
Althou*^h thia subject presents some rather unpleasant
features, it is not without a fellow interest to us all ; not
excepting those whose peace and comfort render the thought
of it foreign to their speculation. As regards the nature of
this young man's death, some people profess to be in-
dignant in reading and hearing of such cases, that anyone
can be so unreasonable, so rash, in short, so depraved ;
especially if there happen to be, as in this instance, a
woman mixed up in the affair. They may be shocked in a
comfortable sort of way, to be sure, but seem withal not a
little pleased, as it brings into more enjoyable contrast
their own good fortune. Nay, there is a tingling of self-
gratulation at their special immunity, these bad cases,
even, being regarded, in one sense, as a not unwelcome re-
minder of their own su[)erior virtue and merit. Peo-
ple who feel this way, and they are many, no doubt
are deserving and especially favored, and as such are
to be envied and congratulated ; they are, for the most
part, married men and women who have slipped easily and
comfortably into harness, and, in the quiet hum-drum of
every day existence, are as ignorant as brutes, and quite
as unconscious of a most formidable misery and danger
menacing us all, and which, forsooth, they may have nar-
rowly escaped themselves. Might we not imagine, a pair
like these, if they interfered, or let the (juestion trouble
them at all, would be the most appropriate and natural
champions of the " blessed state of holy matrimony. "
But here again is exhibited the most disagreeable perver-
sity uf human nature in general, and man and wife in par-
THE SllAn<»W OK TIIK KNO.
5S
ticular. Comfortably cudtllecl up in their cnlm <lomostic
havens, they have no sympathy, no pity, if they give a
thought to those outside the bar, on the billow, in the fog,
amidst the stonn ! Perhaps, I carry the simile too
far, I will cany it still further : they will, and do, fro-
(|uently, even change the lights that guided them to their
own safe moorings, choke up the channel by which they
entered themselves, and give those outside, who are
trying to beat in against wind and tide, to understand
they must come in some other way ! The conditions, in
the awful problem of eligibility^ are all changed since
their time, and parents say, " our children must not suffer
what we have suffered ;" forgetting it was the trudging
together up the steep incline of their early, fresh conflict
with the world, that they themselves enjoyed the most.
Ah, what was their privation but the edge that fasting puts
upon the appetite; aye, and while, in all the crusty bilious-
ness of their later years, they have not found a "nabob
sauce " to equal it, yet they say " our children must not suf-
fer as we did." No ! the boon that satisfies youth's great
hungering rapacity will not suffice. " Live on love, in-
deed!" and the old set, with the sweeping egotism of over-
ripe wisdom, bestir themselves, with broom in hand, and
swooping down on a great wealth of youth's sweet, floral
dream, binish the rose leaves from his path. The fact i.s,
it is the scheming and advising and opposing that keep
those out of the fold who would otherwise come in, in
joyousness and safety ; and this is not unfrequently fol-
lowed by the most lamentable results, as in the case I
' i 1
ll
54
RKVKHFKS OF AN OLD SMoKKR.
liave iiistaiicril. Wrecks at sea ato of no acroiuit, — at
It'ast, we need not concern oMi*Melves alN)ut tlieiii, they are
provich'ntial — tliey are those aloii^j; the sliores that fringe
our garden lawns, that are most deph)rable, and for these
we arc all mutually and severally rcsponsihle.
II.
: i.
: A
As things are, considering all the caprices and hreak<'rs
and perils to which we are subject in the love period of
our lives, it is mueli to be deprecated, no doubt, tliat the
thousands and millions in the toils like poor R was,
might not have restrained themselves in time, and b«;en
more careful how they indulged their mind to drift into
such a miserable state. What a sad truism it is that '* the
course of true love never did run smooth." The only ob-
jection, however, to that saying is, it expresses the trouble
altogether too mildly and apologetically ; but then again,
it ishard to tell young people all we fear, and lay beforethem
all the miserable alternatives that, in our mature observa-
tion, commend themselves all imfavorably to our discre-
tion. It is hard to point, with our shaking nerve and
shrivelled hand, to the withered fields about and say, the
same drought, the same blight, shall visit, except on the most
tryingconditions, your own sweet flo^veiy land ! The ten-
acity of love, and the hostility it so innocently and yet so
aptly engenders, the "crosses" to which it is subject, and the
unhappy results of which this subject is an example, all
tend to make that " ten<ler passion " the most dangerous
nr '
THE SH\f^)W OF THE END.
55
element in our constitution; and in inverse ratio to all those
Hweet conceptions of which it is prccniinontly c pahle, it
is susceptihle to a misery e(|ually exquisite. \ pity
the man or woman to whose lot falls the latter por^
tiou ; and, although it Is a fate which unfortunately com^
prises at least half the pain endured by the human race,
it is univei*sally i«(nored or sneered at and contemnod,
and seems to find no room in the category of ills that en-
list people's sympathy. The reason for this stony-hearted
indifference, generally, may be found in the relation of
well-fed luxury to starving barefoots ; take for example the
great married world, with them the charm of love's anxious
quest has, in possession, been dispelled and their rapture
vanished into lethargy. Very many of these, feeling theni'
selves to be in some degree victims of a species of con-
nubial legerdemain, retaliate the delusion — of which
they are conscious — back upon the unsophisticated, un-
suspecting, legion of youth and credulity. Here, let me
confess at once, that, with all due respect for the quality
medicinally, I am not one of that numerous following who
glory in and extol " experience ;" in many cases it is only
a pardonable sort of intolerable egotism, with a goodly ad-
mixture of prejudice gloomily tinged with superstition,
and, so constituted, is indulged and reverenced chiefly on
account of tL.; seniority of its claim and its hoary head.
But take genuine experience! without the other — I was
about to say, necessary accompaniment of a venerable as-
pect to make it estimable — could it be transmitted or were
it so, what a heritage of sorrow, what an exploded bubble
i
if*
u
m
UEVKIIIKS OK AN n|,|) sMoKKIl.
i*'
of plrnsure it wonM proscnt and wliat inisomblc joyI«'as
iikhIcIh of prudtmcr and wisdom, wc should all l>e ! Nay,
it MooniH rather that the illusions of life should all come
fresh and hlooiniujLf to each and Iw enjoyed hy each j:;en-
cmtion over and over again. The mentors amongst us
may see in them none of tlie golden sheaves that garnish
the later and moie prudential harvest of autumn; hut the
" Cliristmas" genius of youth is, after all, hetter than that
of the old set and without the grey heanl of the snow and
ic<; season to commend the brutal crucifixicm of flesh and
Mood, there is, even, in their seeming tvant of experience,
the instinct of a purer, diviner spirit shining on and light-
ing up the way of life's early pleasure with its illimitable
wealth of buddinir follies. It is the radiance of a redeeminj;
gi'ace depicted in those illusions which, gleaming through
the freezing lethargy of winter blossom in the fragrant
beauties of spring. And what a heritage of wealth those
bright fancy pictures are — the bii-thright of the hum-
blest, they are all that make life tolerable or enjoyable in
any sphere, and disponed, are all that make us in the least
resigned to die. Mothers who com})lain of penniless pro-
spects, what sweeter or more precious dowers than
these would you ask for your children ? With therti,
leasoning in this way is not ])hilosophizing, it is only
the thoughtful use of a little common sense ; it is not
the second sprouting of a seedy intellect nor yet the super-
annuated phantasy of "second sight," it's the child opening
its eyes in the impulse of sublime instinct an<l niaking use
of the thankless but inestimable boon of unsophisticated
TIIK SHADOW OF TIIK KNI>.
.V7
<sijrht, that is all. Am T rifjlit ? If so, I am oncoiimj^od to arM
my protest ajijniiist oM ajje ami exporlencc, laying,' Iwirc thoir
wisdom to the juvenih*, and pniniiij; away those sproiitH
and pluckinj,' that foliage kindly intended by nature not
only to beautify the budding «prij( of the young, but to
hide and to reperfume the withered trunk of the old.
It is only my poor protest which I know is of no avail;
and the crabbed asceticism of what is called " maturer
years" will continue to set its wrinkhMl visage against the
rouiping scenes of yore. I can see it in my mind's eye,
starting in bilious fright at the very mention of what we
liked in the pie and cake and plum-duti* period of our life, —
I can see it glaring on me as I write these lines, and read
my sentence as in the hand-writing on the wall, " exiled
from grace ! " But turning, like the soldier alx)ut to leave
the field, I would have a parting shot, and I reiterate, the
older set have no business to intrude their dyspepsia on
the young ; nor, as they would dust the cob- webs from
their own antiquated cuddies, sweep the rose leaves out of
tlieir path.
nr.
As regards the manner of the death of the young man
to whom I have referred, and with him may be included
all that class of unfortunates who rest under the bane of
suicide, it may be thought in bad taste to say anything.
While I am far from despising that cautious eulogism which
dubs silence " golden," and, while I would not inti-ude up-
on that dreadful stillness brooding over those most tongue-
less and pitiless of all gri« is, nevertheless 1 would raise
58
REVKRIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKR.
my voice in unqualified denunciation of an ordinance that
makes the transient sin of the living the perpetual |)ro-
fanation of the dead, and against that abominable incon-
sistency which, while it utters a benediction with its mouth,
can with its hand subscribe an interdict, .aye, l)oth on
one and the same person. These people, the unfortunates
I mean, and the}' are far moie numerous than it is cus-
tomary to admit, belong to a class whose troubles, for
whatever cause, make them miserable ; they may not be
shoeless — they may not be hungiy, but they suffer an in-
finitely worse privation, — it may be in some disaster they
fancy irretrievable, or it may be in the possession of faults
which in the later stages and especially in the end, iso-
late them like a leprosy from all human or available
sympathy. This grade of suffering offers in itself a
very wide field, and is not in that respect, as I
have said, confined, necessarily, to the gutter and street
and to the viler habitation of the indigent. The
sort we see prowling about, hankering for something
to eat and to drink and to wear, is bad enough, but that
is all a mild sort of bodily discomfort in comparison to
what may be experienced in another way ; I speak not
now of the misfortune of simply being bankrupt in body
or estate, but in mind, and of being not necessarily insane
but altogether hopeless. Some of these cases, could they
be seen, as we see others in the spectacle of mere ordinary
mishap, would present a picture of mental distress than
which there could be none other so ghastly or appalling.
Here we may observe, it is not pleasure alone that has
its goal but adversity also, and each of theso is the anti-
THE SHADOW OF THE END.
59
porlcH of tlie other. Iii our (enjoyment we conj^ratulato.
ourselves that the latter, the darker one, is far away in
another yet uncxi)lored hemisphere; but as in pleasure's
^'oal after which we are all yearning, so in that of adver-
sity which we seek to avoid, we may Im in the midst of
both and reeoj,niise neither. The fact is, there is a Jericho
in which we colonize all but what contributes to our^iu-
titication, and with these far-off exiles of trouble we com-
municate, if at all, throu«j;h the medium of a winged virtu ,
dubbed " charity." It is a natural aversion, I mean that
which we have for the less fortunate ones— and it is a hu-
man impulse to shrink away. Some there are whose good
fortune it is to enjoy exemption from most all kinds of
suffering, and such a respite ought to be, of itself, cher-
ished as the sweetest and most valued of all our carnal
treasure. Nevertheless, we cannot by any artifice of our
own avoid the dreadful scourge altogether and perman-
ently. Indeed, try, as hard as we may, to keep it some-
where else, it crops up all around, and we do find it des-
})orately hard to build a place for misfortune and its vic-
tims, and to sequestrate them and localize them as, in our
benevolence, we do poverty and contagion.
It may be, and probably is, a source of consolation that,
as I said before, we do not always know, much less re-
spond to, the greatest suffering even when we see it.
Wrapt in all the gory paraphernalia of catastrophe, we do
recognise it and shudderingly commlsemte ; but the real
pain, like the danger that leads to it, very frequently we
ntterly ignore. Oftentimes, no dou]>t, because it does not
Im
r,o
UKVKR1F.S OF AN OLD SMOKKll.
\Vear, and in fact it rarely does, the aspect, we are taught,
most unmistakably characterizes the direful. Oh yes, it is
all so different from what it has been so blunderingly
painted, we may even associate with it and not know it;
we converse with it, it does not tell us ; we wish it a good
morning, a happy new year, it thanks us pleasantly and
seems to reciprocate our good will. We see it breathing
the balmy airs of spring, and basking in the sunshine that
lights up and inspires nature's gi-eat floral concert, and
we think it, like ourselves, participating in the great
universal song of rejoicing creation ! Ah, there was a
pardonable deception in the smile that welcomed our
cheery salutation and although, in our careless greeting
we did not penetrate its thin disguise, there was in that
gay device a veil of tears that screened the good-bye tribute
of a broken heart. Still, how far were we from recog-
nising in it all the indescribable pangs the poor fellow
must have felt who may then have been on his way to
throw off a burden under which he had made, perchance,
a plucky attempt to f^tand and was game to the last.
Though it be not orthodox, may we not draw near (ought
we not to) and sympathise with these most unfortunate
ones ? Many, we know, possessed as kindly hearts, as noble
impulses as ever inspired a good deed. It is not sufficient
to say they lacked the callous stoicism of old age, or the
dutiful observance of her pet and unimpressionless
pupil, it was rather, they ^vere wanting in the exemption •,
and promiscuous good luck of those who condemn. But do
I believe that in the cursed oblocjuy attaching to their
TKK SHADOW OF THK END.
(Jl
u^iit from this world they may not have found the other
brighter sphere ? No ! Some court death in tbo fury of
battle, others in the hopelessness of despair; it is self
immolation, the one as much as the other, only in the
former case life is ignored, in the latter repudiated. I am
aware that to court death, in the midst of [)rosperity, is
heroic ; at least, it is deemed so by the same judges who
denounced the throwing oft* of the burden in adversity,
as ignominious. However this may be, I verily believe,
that, in the sight of God, the latter do not suffer for,
or in accordance with the stigma of our Church and Creed.
If the seductive influences that betray virtue and honor
may be regarded as an inkling of all the world's supei-
abundant charms, — if the eflfect of yielding clandes-
tinely, be the visitation of all that excruciating remorse
which, thanks to the hideous night-mares of the moral-
ist restrains and deters, — then, how contrary and uncon-
genial to all our natural impulses must be that temptation
which inclines us, not to the gorging of appetite, but to
the disgorging of the very fountain of all delight within
us, and to precipitate, not the " prick of conscience" but
the pang of death.
H
't
;-i :, i
But he e it may be charged reproachfully to my account
that I am encouraging suicide. I am not. I am condol-
ing with the mother, that is all. She whom I see so often
and so wistfully regarding the great pious banciuet for
the "crumbs" that do not, and are not, permitted to fall.
02
UKVERtES Ot* AS' OLD SMOKfclt.
it' the '^liiiiiiicrin;: that IMits licr cheerless hearth is
iiiisplaced, then am I, and, indeed, all of us, astray and de-
ceived in the source whence in distress we bon'ow com-
fort. Encourage self-immolation ! Say rather discourage
the pei'fidy and cruelty that leads to it ; besides, we should
require no argument to teach us it is the last thing a sane
mind wouM think of, and then only to be repudiated.
I claim no amount of encouragement would in the least
incline a man to an end whence he is repelled by all the
potent instincts of our pain-dreading nature. But how do
"our Charities " regard him in this awful dilemma ? They
are silent; they, like our " Creeds," sul)serve a heartless
policy, and lack the moral courage to speak ; but this is
explained in the fact that according to the strict inter-
pretation of a rigid and exclusive orthodoxy, the poor
creature is without the " fold," and the earth ha8 no soil
dirty enough to receive him. Thus in our pious officious-
ness we undertake to inflict a share of the sentence of
*' damnation," which we take for granted has been pro-
nounced ; and yet who shall say that that grave, all se-
questered and tabooed, is not the object of an especial
providence. The mind is subject to even greater calami-
ties than the body, and in the isolation of a great pitiless
trouble it is marvellous it does not oftener succumb ; bat
reason once dethroned, and all the kingly attributes of a
rational mind awry, who shall say the afflicted one is
not the object of the most benign commiseration, and that,
turn which way he will, his poor benighted faculties may
not detect a glimmering that shall guide him lumie. Alas,
TltK SHADOW Ok' THE ESD.
(;:j
ye poor tii;>oidorcd Kingdoui, liow sadly desolate, how worse
than war or pestilence are the ruva«^es that level thy
l)Oinidaries, and send Reason a cmzed fugitive into the
• lesert of the Daft!! But then, stronger than the first
•;;reat law of self-preservation, is still left the poor dismant-
led crown — the last resort — I mean, the all-powerful pre-
rogative of irresponsibility. That isa sliield sacred aniongst
barbarians, and respected, to some extent, even in the re-
finement of (Civilization.
We often hear it said, " he could not have been de-
langed, he was so composed and delilicrate." Have you
never, in moments of imminent danger, felt a great calm
Hteal over you i we may speak, then, quietly, coherently,
in accents of subdued intensity. Thus, when our per-
ceptive faculties are all alive, our senses otherwise may
be entirely engrossed as one in some dreadful trance or in
the contemplation of some horrid phantom that seems in its
snake-like fascination to charm away all agitation, and
to neutralize all resistance. I know it is quite possible
to feel that way, and, while these poor unfortunates
may appear at ease and tranquil, they are not. It is the
fixed deliberation of the somnambulist who glides out
upon the roof of a lofty building and moves along the
very eaves of the fearful precipice placid and unconcern-
ed ! In supreme moments, often, there seems a stilling
of all our nervous system so mercifully soothing as almost
to paralyze, and outwardly, we may appear, unmoved and
unruffled by even so much as the slightest irritation.
So it is people are surprised it is possible one can look
>i
04
RKVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKKll.
up with inditteicncc at the gleaming axe which is about
to sever his head and say, with the nonchalance of Sir
Walter Raleigh, " Thou art a sharj) medicine but a sure
cure for all ills." Before this can be brought about, Hope
must have perished ; Jind that may be accom[)liyhed by
one of two potent influences, either unavoidable necessity
that pronounces one's doom and the awful reality is
forced u})on one that there can be no appeal, or, dire des-
pair. In the first place it is aggressive, and the inexor-
able verdict before which Raleigh bowed was " you must
die;" on the other hand it is passive, and one's condition,
though even more terrible, is not brought about, as
in the former case, by a brutal judge, a beastly jury,
backed by a depraved and maddened herd, whose
cry was blood, — but rather in the stealthy develop-
ment of inexplicable Fate, surrounded by every kind-
ly and fostering influence — or perchance ({uaffed at
the festive board in the impulse of good-fellowship, and
in the dregs of an all too delicious nectar. Thus life may
not and need not be destroyed at a blow to morally con-
stitute suicide, but in the more gradual and -till no less
fatal mdulgence in some dreadful habit. Then the
mind, inoculated with a virus more deadly than the poison
fang of Cobra, seeks with the resistless perversity of a
thing that is doomed, its antidote in the very evil by
which it is afMicted, and its refuge, in the most appalling
of all calamities. Take, for example, one of the tliousands
whose ease corresponds to such apredicament, — the poor fel-
low was never wholly unmindful of his danger, but seemed
THE SHADOW OF THE END.
65
powerless to struggle against it. It is as if the Fates had con-
spired in the production of a beautiful reptile, which while it
fascinated was preparing to destroy. There he ia with
the glittering folds gathering closer and closer about him,
and still so dazzled and wrapt in the dreadful embrace that
he yields to its sinister charm, and not even biding his
time, moves impatiently forward to meet his doom. We
see him gliding onward to the inevitable end, may naught
be done to save him ? may not some kindly hand be
raised to turn that dreadful fate away. Rarely is it
that affection may not avail when all else fail ; espe-
cially, when it is only persuasion that is needed, and
tho ills are those of body and blood and may be comforted.
And is it possible this poor youth may have no friends,
no home ? He has a home, he has a sister ! Ah, thank
God for that, we exclaim on the impulse, at the mention
of so potent a cure. Yes he has a sister whose tender heart
in the hush of a mighty solicitude, prays the storm-cloud
may pass away, and then, dissembling her own sorrow and
despair,she points to the splendid arch reflected through her
tears, exclaiming gaily, *"Tis a rain-bow at night, brother,
be of good cheer ! " There is one brief moment of intel-
ligence vouchsafed the afflicted one ; a great light breaks
over those pale, wan, harassed features — who shall divine
the awful pathos of that look, — and a sob that seems to
shiver all the pent-up idols of his little world, breaks the
narrow boundaries of long suppressed agony. In that cry
the flesh collapsed ; its anguish was the expiation of tha
body, its echo the song of the rejoicing spirit. Finally, in
E
66
KEVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
the case of him who severed the thread of life At a blow,
let it suffice to add : — the pious sycophants of a fastidious
creed, may deny the lifeless, resistless clay, " Christian
burial" — aye, they may continue to heap their little moun-
tain of obloquy on his giave ; but they may not say to the
daisy, and the violet, and the lily, ye shall not bloom there,
and roun<l the slab which marks that most desolate mound
behold a living vine! They mingle their sweet perfume
with tho hope thereon inscribed, and entwining the letters
in wreaths redolent with blossoms that shall never blight,
reveal these lines : —
SUFFKRINO, HE SOUOHT RELIEF IN PAIN : TROUBLED, HE
FOUND REDEMPTION IN TRIRULATION.
HE
[orboab io ^tcktnhttm.
'4*
H
t':it
^^'•^-
NORWOOD TO BEOKKNHAM.
^:;.f^
'.S'iv/)
I If AD a very pleasant walk to Heckciiliain, nut long ago
— it is not far from where I am livin;:, and one can
just make it out four or five miles away, neHtled cosily
anionir the trees and hills of Kent. Imajrine it a briirht
pleasant morning of a Sunday, as it was when I took the
walk in (piestion, then, after doing hearty honors to a goo<l
breakfast, stepping out into the fresh, invigorating air
of the Highlands, for a stroll in the country, with the
valley and opposite slope of th*^ Surrey hills in prospect
All things above, seemingly aHo.d, in a rosy sea of that
peculiar, lazy haze of an English atmosphere : and all be-
low, reposing under that potent spell whidi the Sabbath,
in this country, casts over all the busy doings of the week.
< >ne is struck, for a moment, to observe how marvellous it
is that the din and roar of London, v\ hicb, on any other
rlay, is waft«'d to the ear and sounds like the far-off* con-
flict of storm and ocean, this day is hushed and silent as
the 1 leath of aslund^erinjj infant; and of all the deafening'
babel of its countless multitudes, and of all the uproar of
its enormous traffic, nought is heard now, but tlie drowsy
murmur of insects, or the rustling of tiny leaves, — the
«4^
70
IlEVKUIRS OF AN OLD SMoKKK.
cawing of rooks, or the far-off chime of villa*]fe chiircb-
belk
From the lirijilits of Upper NorwcKjd, or say from the
C'ryHtai Pnlacr, looking south towards ( 'royilon and Ad-
ington, an<l so round eastward towards iieckenliam, there
is obtained one of the loveliest views that can be im-
agined. It would be impossible ♦<) tleseribe a [)icture of
scenery adecjuate to tliat presented from this standpoint;
and ordinary language beggars even simpli* justice, in an ef-
fort to convey to one three tliousund miles away, the en-
chantment of landscape, the superb garb, the numberless
winning ways, Nature here dons to greet the eye and re-
fresh the spirit of poor wandering mortality. Indeed, one
must have seen and felt, to appreciate, the magic charm,
the delightful pang, in thatso-sorry-to-leave penalty, which
the witching goddess heie inflicts on the happy unfortunate
found trespassing in this her rural Paradise. The beauty
of the palace -grounds, is proverbial and unsurpassed, and
I mean now not only these, but the noble range of
country beyond, which, from this point, the eye com-
mands for miles around. One is just high enough to get
a good view of the valley below, which is about five miles
across to the hills of Surrey and Kent opposite. To the
right and left of this, the range is extended a long way
in the form of a crescent, and within this scope a be-
wildering variety of most baautiful landscape is unfolded.
At the first glance, it looks a bit wild, — there are so
many trees, that it appears more like broken forest inter-
epei*sed with mt?adovv land upon irregular ground of hill
NORWOOD TO RECKEXHAM.
71
and d»le. The rich, dark ^reen of numberless luxuriant
treen, the wild yet superb profusion of shrub, and the
soft velvety verdure of the fields, make Nature, for a
time, the whole object of one's admiration. A» you ap-
proaclh however, and look more closely, almost hid-
den away amid the most charminj;j of rustic retreats,
you presently discern the ivyclad walls of Elnj^lish
homes; around which, in all the imposing panoply of
brawny arms and abundant foliage, staml, in careless yet
magnificent array, that aristocratic phalanx of stately
oaks and queenly elms. Nor must I forget to mention, — •
as we plod along through the midst of this, what always fas-
cinated me from the first — I mean the porter's lodge —
that rustic littlegera of artand nature ingeniously combined,
which guards and embellishes the outer pale of English
hospitality. Nay, nor rest content, till I have awarded
my humble meed of praise to those models of domestic
comfort, the pretty manners, and beguiling airs, which one
cannot help admiring in an English cottage. The gra.ss,
in that bit of lawn in front, looks so sleek, and is kept
so trim ; and those .shrubs and flowei*s look .so fresh, and
smell so sweet ; and all wreathed round in a pretty bar-
rier of holly hedge, who can resist its .shy, co.sy
look. One may be puzzled, at first, to understand its
numberless corners and its variety of odd, elfish-looking
gables, but there is a fa.scination even about them — they
have such a hide and-seek air, and suggest, to a suscep-
tible " old bach," .so many sweet little hide-a-ways
within. Then,too,screeningthese and tucked up all around.
i
72
ItEVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKEIl.
) rl
■'r
or falling like a Lridal veil over all, is that most becom-
ing mantle of ivy and jasmine, disguisinf(, to some ex-
tent, all that is artful, and only brushed aside, here and
there, to make room for those coquettish-looking windows
through which the sunbeams glance, and imagination is
fain to picture, the image of some fair creature, in all the
witcheryof blueeyes andyellowhair! I have often thought,
when I've como upon one of these, say like those one
sees at Norwood, or Stratham, oi Twickenham, — I've often
thought as I've lingered wistfully, and admiringly, reluc-
tant to pass on and away, what a delightful nook that
would be to live in, — and what a temptation it must
be, (to one who is in a way to be tempted), to make one's
exit from the dusty highways of the world, and leave to
the frenzied, panting herd, the continuance of the race for
honors, and the scramble after " flesh-pots." In that
moment's pause, how charmingly, how forcibly does it ap-
peal to one's good sense, through the voice of one's good
angel, to renounce the greedy art of business and all the
din and clatter of its dirty machinery, for the peace and
joyful solace of this biding place, to dwell ensconced
amongst the rhododendrons — there to sojourn through
the fickle respite of one's days, with nought to beguile
or vex, and all to inspire that noV)ler and fuller enjoy-
ment which comes from the cultivation and exercise of
one's better nature. The partition, just there and then, be-
twixt heaven and earth, seems much thinner than in
most places — just near enough the other Paradise that,
barring the chance of plumping right into it, it offers life
NORWOOD TO BECKENHAM.
73
the sunny side, and we may enjoy it just as we are. So
tlnn, indeed, we m&y feel through, aiid with all the lusty
appetites of our beggarly a<loration in full riot, enjoy
rhis rare and delicious proximity to perfect bliss, loitk the
tJcsh all on. I would not be unreasonably poetical in my
praise of anything; indeed T have lived long enough to
see the propriety of curbing my enthusiasm, and do try
hard to be rational. Suffice it then to say, of these good
old English dwelling-places, at least, as they impressed
me, — they may not b a Paradise, — no, not in an evangeli-
cal point of view, — but so far as respectability is concerned,
and social enjoyment, and all the countless auxiliaries to
])leasure and refinement, they are so near the perfection
of Elysium, that I believe the discrepancy is only in us, in
our transient possession and want of appreciation, to make
our felicity complete. It cannot be denied, that the
clumps of precious fruit which poor Faith hungers for in
vain, and saints extol in pious rapture ,'s being sweet
and satisfying beyond all human conception, may be, and
doubtless are, too exalted for mortal reach ; but here, for-
sooth, I am bound to say you may enjoy the comfor-
table assurance that notwithstanding you are so far be-
neath, you are just under the limb, — aye, and when any
of those luscious plums do drop to earth, they fall here
and prolific Nature multiplies in all around, delightful
tokens that all the scattered sheaves, from that golden
harvest of the other realm, are wafted here — borne on soft
winds perfumed with the breath of violets and vocal
with the sons: of bi' ds !
1
II
'I
i
-=^t-
IJT
74
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
%.
!
II.
It was past eleven o'clock when I j^^ot across the valley,
and b(;gan the easy ascent of the opposite slope ; was
taking it slowly, moving on up the incline and glancing
back enjoying the splendid retrospect over in the direction
I had come. While proceeding in this manner, I came
unexpectedly upon what turned out to be a very interest-
ing old church. It was just in the outskirts of a little
place called Beckingham, and the first intimation I had
of being so near, was a glorious flood of music which came
down upon your humble wayfarer, and greeted his musing
Senses with a perfect torrent of sacred melody. Look-
ing quickly round in the direction whence it came, I
found myself in close proximity to a quaint-looking struc-
ture which, at a glance, bore unmistakable evidence of its
great age and sacred character. One, here and there, in the
course of long and patient rambles in this country, does
hap})en on the^o old land marks ; and I felt, in this instance,
a good deal of that satisfaction which animates the an-
tiquarian, when he unearths some mouldering ruin, or
brings to light objects, the design and handywork of an
age and people long gone. Feeling rather fagged with
my long walk, I sat down on a stile close by, amid the
grateful strains of a rich-toned organ, and the blending of
many sweet voices. Pi-esently, I found myself a good deal
interested in a survey, not only of the church itself, which
was odd and monkish looking, but also of the church-yard
surrounding it ; where were gathered, in grim, time-broken
NORWOOD TO BECKENHAM.
75
array, a solemn medley of antiquated grave-stones, jagged
monuments, and ghastly recumbent effigies. The edifice
was, or had been, to all appearances, one of the few old-time
monastic strongholds which still maintain their ground in
this ancient colony of Caisar. They arc rare as the relics
of Roman occupation, and uni^jue as the dialect of an ex-
tinct race; possibly, too, not unlike the language of an
ohsolete period, may be given a usage and significance
that in their own palmy day had seemed grotesque and
absurd. This one, built originally of the most substantial
materials, it was not at all improbable to suppose, had suf-
fered the chills and frosts of four or five hundred wintei's,
and borne, battered but unshaken, the sacrilegious fury-
of centuries of bigotry, rebellion and reform. There was,
moreover, something in the aspect of those grey old walls,
and their avssociation with the past, to inspire emotion,
and they impressed me as deserving more than a passing
glance. I confess, as a rule, the feeling with which 1 regard
these patriarchal institutions, replete, as many of them
are, with sorrowful associations, is not that of enjoyment.
There is a species of pleasure, no doubt, in the gratification
of one's natural inquisitiveness ; but the sensation, in the
majority of these cases, is rather too much like that one feels
groping about the dingy nooks and cloisters of al>beys and
crypts; that is to say, an uncomfortable admixture of admir-
ation and curiosity, together with a very considerable in-
giedient of dread. They may have, as in the case of West-
minster, and St. Paul's, the benefit of every device of skill
nnd art, to make them attractive, but even then, it is only
a:
j-;*"
f 1,!
76
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
such an attempt to embellish catastrophe,asglorifies without
mitigating bereavement ; the effect, only one remove less
terrifying than the horrors of the catacombs, and hardl^^
less repulsive than those fantastic trophies, constructed from
the bones of dismembered skeletons, and exhibited in the
vaults of the Capuchin Friars at Naples.
Nevertheless, while there is no pleasure, in the ordinary
acceptation of the word, there is an interest, solemn and
intense, that takes possession of one's thoughts in the con-
templation of things, which, like this old church, have
endured so long; for notwithstanding the power of skill
to heal, and the magic efficacy of human affection to foster,
we read, in tearful eyes on every hand, the sad but inex-
orable fate of poor human flesh ; speedily and surely it is
passing away. This omnipotent law is not applied to
persons alone, for rarely does the wanderer, in these lands,
find a structure that has long w^ithstood that mighty wave
of Time, which, lapping up and overwhelming poor mor-
tality, sweeps onward to inevitable destruction all that
glittering, heterogeneous mass of things pertaining to the
race. It is sad but true that posterity, at this late day,
following in the wake of that once gorgeous crest, finds
of whatever really belonged to the days of yore, only air
and dirt and desolation. It is, indeed, marvellous how
few traces remain — here and there, a bit of sturdy granite
that ivill not yield — and these, especially where they re-
tain the symmetry or character of the original design, are
interesting beyond the gratification of a mere idle fancy.
They are the few glimpses of land one gets on the im-
Norwood to beckenham.
77
inense sea of events into which are merged and swallowed
up all those peoples and things of which we read. They
are fast crumbling away,and rapidly being lost in the turbu-
lent rush of " mighty waters "; and soon, indeed, from this
modern ark, that vulture Curiosity will find, of all those
remains of which I speak, no branch, nor sprig, nor place to
rest its tired wing-^no substance to [)acify its hungry
greed, in all its flight backward over that great silent
ocean of Time ! _
III. ^ -
The power to destroy, is as mighty and we trust as be-
nign as that which creates ; was it kindness, then, in Pro-
vidence, that had sheltered this aged shrine and faithful
servant, for there, in the midst of that resistless tide, this
veteran has stood firm and endured a veritable " hold fast
for faith" — a " shining light," casting far and near, amongst
the breakers, the genial rays of its goodly precept. And
as I looked upon those wretched deposits of mortal dust
around, it seemed they too were blessed ; for while so many
had been swept onward to some nameless shore, or sank
into the bottomless deep, they had caught the gleam of
this precious light and clutched at the Cross. They had
wrestled with the angry wave, but not alone ; the potent
magnetism of an unseen Power had been there and suc-
cored them, and drawn them, as by some loving hand,
within the counter current that eddies round this sacred
rock ; and there thay lie now, stranded on the threshold of
a "Christian home,"— reposing in the lap of "Mother
78
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
pi'.
I
Omrcb." It seems as if this reflectio; inakes the goodly
dame look less forbidding and ugly; and, too, there is,
alK)ut that clinging, sun-lit ivy which has crept as a
mantle over her weather beaten walls, and filled and
}>eautified the seams and wrinkles of her stony lineaments,
something imparting a pleasant, genial air of fostering
love, as closely slie gathers under her mateinal wing that
silent brood of departed spirits, and reflects the sunshine
of her precious hope down upon the cold, clayey tene-
ments of her voiceless flock !
Peering in at the vestibide, my eye had been fixed, for
some time, on the recumbent effigy of some doughty old
knight who was placed ♦here; clad in complete armour,
this fierce old crusader, for such he seemed, and may have
been, looked formidable in the extreme, and impressed
me with the idea he could not have fallen in open en-
counter with flesh and blood ; but seemed, long ago, to
have tired of the conflict, and lain down on this eartliy
couch to rest, and in the grateful respite of somi- pleasant
dream, perchance of home and those he loved, death had
crept in softly ! How came this martial *?nage here at all,
I asked myself ; what were his claims to fame, and wherein
lay the charm that had preserved the outward form and
semblance of this man to this late age, winning their meed
of voluntary regard and homage from so many gener-
ations. In all the cloistered wealth of our mother land,
we find, here and there, the rare virtue of a few uncollected
unexhibited relics ; they are not the least precious of her
obsolete treasure, and amongst them are those simple un-
NORWOOD TO BECKENH4M.
79
artistic specimens of €a by gone age, in tlie shape of effigies.
This was one, and no doubt a worthy comrade of the othera,
if not a cliieftain. It does not speak, it does not feel ; in-
deed, one of the inviolable conditions of this warlike proxy
was it should be senseless an<l must be silent. The shadow
f)f its desolate mission is stampe<l on all its lineaments ; it
may not even echo the soldier cry of "all's well," and yet
there is about this broken and begrimed image an appeal
to our intelligence and humanity all the more expressive
that it is mute, and none the less pathetic that it is not
the most perfect work of art. There are many languages
for the living, and they are badly comprehended ; but oidy
one for the d«*ad, and that universally understood ; one is
liy voice, the other by sign. Irrespective, then, of tongue, or
dialect, or nationality, we read in this crumbling symbol, of
wars and conflicts long since hushed forever, and of feuds
and hostile passions, long since blended in a realm of per-
fect harmony. It Ijespeaks, too, a being like ourselves, an<l
of a kindly feeling that loved the flesh it counterfeits ; for,
after all, it was affection, tender and devoted, that in rear-
in,: this monument from dust, had sought to perpetuate one
who was lost to all but memory, by giving to the sense-
less clay, to which he had gone, the expression and noble
outline of a once loved and gallant form. The music
ceased and I lose to go — that glorious hynui of praise
which lauds the benignant love and mercy of the Most
High, had gone forth on its mission of intercession for
troubles, hopes, and fears — and the last expiring echoes of
the Te Deum, grew softer and fainter as they mounted
It
80
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER
heavenward, bearing with them the cast off burdens of
heavy hiden hearts, and leaving with the prayerful ones
the happy omen of a blithe and sunny morn.
i>iV
i .
fl
)ttr ^^arities.
!
■ -- . I
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AHA.VnoNKI*.
ALMSON's CAHTIOATION ok T»I, ) CALI.r.n < M.VBITY HYHTKil or PIUL-
AI>ELl'lltA \ HKMARKAHI.K OOirRTHUOM tiCENt^:.
Philadelpiua, May 27, IH81.
'HiBre hiM Wfii liefore the (^Miarter B*'s«lonH f'oiirt of thin citv for several iluyH a
t.^r of |)eciiUar interest, not ottly fntiik a hiiiimniturian {xiint of view but, l)«cauMfl
•if the <>har) table tlo^maR which it hri<< (h'Htroyed. It«Hii(hlen ending thin afteruoim
furiiiHhe<l a fitt'".>,'ly dramatji climax to tme of the Hadtiext pictureH of our Ho-called
.ivili/.Jition that ever wm put in wnnh. The fact"* were, that on a cold, hiiowv
morning during latit wint<M- a dead child wn** foiiiKf in an area in the rear of a tall
tfr»urnent houHe, the iip[ >fr floors of whii;h were let out to ni^ditly KmL'^th. l*olice
inv^eHtiKi*tion piomptly fvealed the fact that a young woman wh«> had en^'ai^'eil the
n'!»r rmmi '»n the previous evening' had Kiv«n hirth to the chihl, and nhe a<liidtte«t
iinvinjf thi .vn it out <»f the window, declarin ' that it wan \n*ni defwl. Thejfirl w;m
.Ira^'n'ed fri»iii her be<l, f<»rced by the indice i.ti erto walk down three fli>;htM of ntaii-x
find to the nearent Htation-hoiise, where mIic wan at once locked up, Hrought Inffore
till- i<immittinj< ruaifiHtrate a few dayn later, she was promptly •sent to \foyaiiiens-
ini; Prison, <hargf(l with infanticide, ,iiul ct-rt unly woulil hav' been convi('t« 1 had
nut t 'Vo yountf lawyers, who were convinced In r iiinf>cence ((jfeor;4e Haldom and
Lincoln 1^. Eyre), come to her assistance. Tl Htory of her life is as comm<»nidac<*
as could be inuvsjdned : The i>risoner ha<l bet-n living with a «ong and dance i)cr
firmer, in New York, named Edward -r "Ned" Aar nson, who, wdun she wiis
afmutto becouje aniotlici', Ijrotijjht her t«) Philadelphia, and heaf ♦^lenslv abandonetl
lur. FrieuiUess and wholly unknown, realizing the terrible ))osr ion in which she
w IS place'l, she wandered for days about the streets, until, ' ,',y forced by th»
rnvcnous and unnatural liun^'er induced by approachiu„' ma^'tnity, she acco-ited a
voiui^,' j,'irl on the sidewalk, who gave her a few cents and If i^'cil her for the night.
On the following day, again ca.«^t out upon tht- tender mercies uf the world, she en-
cmintereda woman of the town lis the Commonwealth fully succf <'ded in showing^
but that her heart was warm the evidence no less clearly prov (mI. In her company
hizzie Aaronsoii, as she was called in the indictment, for days »«)ught asylum in some
hospit d where the dreaded ordeal of oonfinement nught be passed. The testimony
if Ida Wilson, the girl who thus labored on behalf of another woman in distress
without ho] of reward, can be briefly summarized as follows :—'* I heanl of this
friendless girl and asked her to my quartern. They wer** jjoor enough H)nly one
riKmi but such as I had I tried to give lier. Thu stranger [)ass.'d most of her time
hi tears, and seemed utterly hopeless. Kealizin.™ the irajKirtanoe of medical aid for
her in the h(»ur of confinement, and being too i»oor myself to procure it for her, I
Ktartcd with her on the second day to find such a place. Lizzie Aaronson, the
prisoner in the dock, was utt*'rly penniless —had been left without a cent." Then
follows the st*»ry of charity's cold shoulder to actual and evident distress.
THE RULES THAT FOUUID.
" First we applied at the Nurses' Home or Lying-in-Charity, as it is called,
at Cherry and Eleventh streets. The matron heard the c:ise and admitted that it
was a desperate one. She then asked if Lizzie could produce her marriage certifi-
cate, and pay !^5 per week for her board, but when she learned that Lizzie could
do neither the one nor the other the scene ended abruptly. Thence we went to the
Honueopathic Hospital, but there was no room for Lizzie's admission. The young
physician in charge said she must go the Almshouse. To the Guardians of the
Poor, then, we went — to the office in Seventh street. A clerk told us I must take
my companion before Magistrate Pole and a.sk her commitment. We went to the
magistrate's, but he refused to commit her unless she would give the name of her
busband and swear out a warrant for his arrest, so that he could be compelletl to
pay the county for her keeping. This, after some hesitation— desperate as was her
Kituation— she refused to do. 1 advised her to do so. We next applieil at the Home
Mission, No. .533 Arch Street, in hopes of getting Lizzie a ticket to New York, but
the officer in charge would not give her one, althougli she pleaded piteously for
it. He finally offered to sell her one for $1. Neither she nor I had so much money.
We then went to the Young W^ snen's Christian Association, on Seventh Street.
The matron said, firmly and promptly, that she could not do anything for her, as
*«»n as she saw her conditi< >n, asked for her certificate, and made Lizzie cry Intterly.
» 1
. i
lAAAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)
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Sciences
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23 WKT MAIN STREET
WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80
(716) 872-4S03
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Finally she said we had In-tter j?o to th»* Sixth Ward Relief A«8o<natinn, a brandi
of the Young Wonten'K (.-hriHtiun AHwtciation. There we had ulinoHt Himilar «;\-
i)erience. Finally we went to an intelligence office, No. 4ll Arch Street, in tlie
no\Hi that hhe might find 8ome kind pernon who would take her as a servant, tuiiltr
the circiiuiHtanceH. She there met an elderly gentleman, who engiiKed her, hut,
Heeinff her condition, declined to take her home, although she begged him t«>Hnd dc-
<lareu that Hhe woulil work for nothing long enough after her trouble to covit :ill
the expenseH. He Htill firudy declined, but exi)resKed hiH 8ymi)athy by giving her *!.
liixzie .ind T immediately Hi>ent this money in food. I had not eaten anythin;,' Ih.ii
day, and she not Hince the morning of the i>reviouH day. When it waH t»Mt latr «»•
recollecte<l that it woidd have procured the coveted ticket to New York. 'J'licn
we lw)th felt worry. But we hjul been ko hungry. At laHt she returned with uie to
my room. On several momingH thereafter, seeing that she was a burden to me. :w
she said, she left. I afterwards learned that as a last resort she pledged her siniill
gold ring - the only article of jewelry she had left for twenty-five cents, and t<Mtk
the room in which her child was born." This was the last witness for the defence.
A DRAMATIC CLIMAX.
District- Attorney CJrnharn stepped forward and addressed the jiiry. Tie spoke
of the enormity of the offence, the difficulty of proof, and the <loubts cast upon tlie
girl's crime Ijy the testimony of the defence. Therefore he thought it wise, au.l
with the atlvice of the Judge, to abandon the case.
There was a hum of surprise in the court. Judge Allison then directed the two
girls who had been called as witnes-ses, Ida Wilson and Ijizzie Flick, to come to the
bar. He gave them seats (m a raised phitform in front of the jury, and in fidl view
<if the crowded court-room. Having first referred to the remarks made by the Dis-
trict Attorney, and commended the wisdom of his course, with deej) and evident
emoti<m, he thus addressed the jury : —
" Gentlemen, I have called these two girls to the bar of this court that you may
see them, while I say a few words uiH)n another j)ha.se of this case. This defendant,
Lizzie Aaronson was shown by the testimony of the defence to have come to this
city an utter stranger, to have been a homeless wanderer on the streets, without
money, without friends. In her utter loneliness and friendliness, driven Ut neek
charity from the passer-by, she accosted this girl here (iM)inting to Lizzie Flick),
and, without hebitation, she shared her jioverty with her, giving iier a share of the
money and comforts she possessed. This other young woman (i)ointing to Ida Wil-
son, who, unfortunately, has not led a correct life), however much her moral nature
may have been war^)ed in one respect, gave an exhibition ef practical (yhristianity -
of practical Christianity, I repeat, with emphasis— when she likewise gave this
friendless sister shelter, that would furnish a wholesome examjde to most of those
who are clothed with purple and fine linen, I r.m sorry to admit that if this poor,
friendless girl had api)liect to nine out of ten of those very people who comiwse the
wealthy classes she would probably have sought in vain the shelter she recei\ cil
from this «lespised outcast. I, therefore, regard this as the time and the place to
make mention from the bench of the kindness of heart displayed by these two girls,
and have for that reason dwelt uiK)n their acts, because of the striking contrast
which they afford to the conduct or the so-called charities of this city. It has been
clearly shown that this defendant, in the midst of her wants, and when the critical
hour of her motherhood was near, went from one of those socalled charities to the
other, and at each of them sought admission, with the evident purpose of givinj;
her child respectable birth. In this laudable desire she was thwarted at every tiirn,
in consequence of the various regulations governing the so called benevolent institu-
tions, wnder none of which, unfortunately, was she a fit candidate for admission.
At last, alone, in utter squalor, nearly naked, without fire or the most ordinary com
forts, amid the darkness of a bitter winter's night, inexperienced and unassistetl.
she gave birth to her child, whether alive or dead the Almighty and she only will
ever know." After an interval, in which the bill of indictment was passed to the
foreman of the jury, Judge Allison concluded: — '* I direct that you do acquit the
prisoner."
Taken altogether, the scene was one of the most unusual that ever occurred in
any court-room in this country. The house was crowded, and, strange to say,
nearly everybody 8tot>d up, hat in hand, as if the benediction of the humane jud^ie
was asked for all. The sermon was such a one as will furnish texts for Sunday
next.— New York Hcrahl.
OUR CHAKITIKS.
Hi
I.
IN comiiion witli the rest of poor, ignorant mortality, I
noticed certain directions on the guide-hoards as I
toddled along, and taking it torgrante<l they pointed the
right way, followed in the direction they indicated. 1
saw, it is true, by-paths leading off in other directions,
hut I stuck to the main highway where I saw everyone
else going, and wluch was broad and pleasant. I took this
road not simply because of its superior attractiveness, al-
tliough I was, I adnut, strongly intluenced by that;
nevertheless, 1 was conscientious, or tried to be so, but
then I had no decided notions of my own concerning
certain great cpiostions of the day, and into which, when
I ])lunged, I would be caught u[) by eddies and twisted
and twirled round and round: so I left everything to
the guide-boards, as I have said, and plodde<l on. i3esides,
another reason I hail for taking the capacious and bril-
liantly lighted boulevanl — all so extensive, and so beauti-
fully embellished — was because the narrow paths seemed
fre«[uented by a very shabby set, and only a few of them
at that; and they looked wild, and hagganl, and hungry,
and the way looked lonely and quite abandoned, except
by these miserable creatures.
i It "
m
1!
84
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
I
m
in
I
Just here, I noticed a very conspicuous guide-board,
being, as it were, a combination of several, with certain
signs and symbols and hieroglyphics inscribed thereon,
amongst which I could make out a liand pointing in the
direction of the narrow gauge. It struck me it might prove
a good ^vft of time to explore that path, and notwith-
standing the uncouth appearance of its habitu<3s, I should,
I thought, meet with a less powerful competition thuJi
where I was; where every thinjr, while being very fine,
and well regulated, seemed under the control of a sys-
tematic sort of monopoly, closely resembling, as it seemed
to me, the despotism from which I was migrating. It was
just at this point I lost so much time hesitating — in fact,
I pau ed some time without making any perceptible
progress either way, and lounged vacantly about, though
I could not help, in the meantime, taking some ob-
servations.
Beside this last mentioned post, I always saw a man
who SEemed stationed there to interpret the strange
writing on the board, and to explain the various ways.
This man would be relieved after a while by another, and
he in turn by still a different one, and so on. Each of
these, as he came along in turn, seemed to mo to be a
species of emigrant 'or road agent and official mouth-
piece, being apparently well informed about the topogra-
phy of the promised land. I did not speak to them per-
sonally, because I saw% unless there were several together,
they took no notice of them whatever, and as application
required to be made in lots, being alone, I had to stand
' ; iM
OUR CHARITIES.
85
aside, which I did — near enough, however, to hear and see
wliat was going forward. As I was looking on watch-
ing this agent, it seemed to nie he directed tlie shahby
and poor-looking ones that came along, down the narrow,
dirty way; but the grand turnouts and aristocKitic people
either paased straight on, without noticing h^' ' or, as
seemed the more polite and customary thing to do, stop-
ped out of mock deference to this functionary — and then
it really appeared to me, the agent gave them a peculiar
look — T will not say a wink, though it was very like it —
and at the same time veered his thumb round in the
direction of the grand avenue ; whither went all the bril-
liant part of the throng, including all those who seemed
to have any pretensions to greatness. Vigilant, however,
as I had become by this time, a bright idea struck me —
thought I to ?nyself, I v.^ill watch closely to see where
the ngents themselves go ; and in nearly aviiry instance, as
fast as they were relieved, and after sending a good batch
down the cramped, mean little by-way, each sidled oft'
quietly and gracefully with the grandees; and one, with
an especially resigned and pensive look, took t!ie box-seat
find reins of a four-in-hand.
When T saw this done so many times, I hesitated no
longer, but followed with reassured eagerness "the course
of empire " — on the through-ticket system — first class, as
the agent ndvised. I may mention that on this route
there are no return tickets ; so we are not annoyed by the
faint-hearted coming back.and telling us grievous stories
m&i
86
RKVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKU.
of misrepresentation and lianlsliip, and ^Ivin/^ disparafj-
ing accounts of the prospects aliead.
We see ))y tlu' wayside, as we pass alon;,', certain wild,
l>eggarly-looking creatures, who slumt out to us as we
pass, and gesticulate fanatically, and cry " Stop, stop, —
go back, go hack !" an<l all that sort nf thing; hut our
mouth-piece tells us not to mind them, that they are pooi,
daft creatui'cs wlio have been led astiav. 'J'hey, we per-
ceive, liowever, are going in a contrary direction. One of
these ])oor things caught Ijold of my hand, and I shall
never forget his look, as I drew it hastily away, liaving
caught tlie eye of one of the agents })ent leprovingly upon
me. Our guirles are c<mstantly telling us not to mind tliese
people, and to keep a sharp lookout on our pockets. I
ma}' mention, too, that on each side of us wc; see, as we go
along, a smooth liigli wall on which art; painted the most
beautiful frescoes, depicting the glories and advantages of
the country to wliich we are bound ; and all signs of suf-
fering, or want, or pain are kept out of our siglit so as not
to interfere with the pleasure of our journey. Every now
and then, however, from behind the most enticing of these
scenes issue shrieks and groans, like of human agony ;
these reach us frequently in the midst of our comfort
and hilarity, and on venturing to inquire as regards this
slight interruption to the general ovation, we are hushed
up somewhat l^astily by the agent, who tells us that that
sort of thing is the finest feature in the whole aspect, as
indicating exceptionally high moral culture ; he also ex-
plains that the people who utter these outcries are a
OUll rHAUlTIKS.
87
miserable class of tramps and mjih'faetoi*s, wlio are sup-
posed to l>o ])os8osse(l of the devil, an<l who have Ymcn
taken under the fostering care of the puhlic benevolent
institutions, on the easv conditions that they allow certain
kindhearted and philanthropic ministers and attendants
to gently drive the Evil One out of them ; these modern
expurgatories being under the lull control and auspices of
a certain benign spirit called " Charity."
II.
There are many persons and things that have been so
long tacitly acknowledged as pure and unimpeachable,
that any one who ma}^ have tiie temerity to say ought of
them, except in praise, may expect to be sent peremptorily
" to Coventry " ; and for the matter of that, he has reason
to feel particularly fortunate if not more harshly dealt
with.
Although the day for bianding liberty of speech with a
hot iron, may be passed, nevertheless, in this lilteral epoch,
an instrument just as formidable exists in the more civil-
ized but no less reprehensible means of two powerful
influences : Bribery, and Patronage. Whatever we
M'ant said, or written, or done, is brought about by
" subsidy ;" and when the performance is a purely per-
sonal eftbrt of our own, to meet with approval and suc-
cess, it must be such as to propitiate, not so much public
opinion, generally, as sectional spite or party interest;
and in the effort to win popularity, amongst these con-
flicting elements, we must and do cater to partisan pa-
hB
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMoKER.
tronage ; and at the same time, we mufit and do forfeit
our claims to the broader, nobler title of " Catholic,"
or " Independent," or " Liberal." Exanjples of the truth
of the al>ovc, are too numerous to mention, and the fact
itself too hackneyed perhaps to call for illustration ; be-
sides, the bringing up of " distinguishe<r' cases, might seem
an aspersion. How far the restraint 1 speak of may be
wholesome, is another ({uestion ; but it is impossible to find
an individual or gnidt; of society that is exempt. The
lower orders of people would be njore independent, as
having smaller interests in jeopardy, but they are even
more open to temptation, as they have so much that is
needful to gain by patronage ; and all untutored as they
are, regarding the higher art of dissimulation, they allow
their reason and common sense to subserve the logic, and
not unfre(juently, the venality of the learned, and those in
position and authority over them. Thus are they con-
strained to practise an involuntary servility, as despicable
as their mean opinion of themselves is unjust, and as
uncalled for, as their reverence and envy of those above
them are erroneous and misapplied.
This may l)e well — it is certainly conducive to harmony
and peace, which is preferable to revolution ; but to the
fact of occasional resistance, are we indebted for two pro-
digious elements in our progress : Invention and Re-
form. Conformity, in all things, offei-s the most tempt-
ing comforts, and that page of history which records the
triumphs and reverses of the dissenting ones, records also
a terrible prelude of persecution, riot and bloodshed.
OUR CHARITIES.
89
One of the most honouraMe distinctions alH)nt these men,
however, wliether we agree witli t)ieir " crotchets/' or not,
is that in their disagreement thvy expressed their opinions,
all shackled as they were, in fearless, thankless opjMwition
to established authorities, and not only independently,
hut in direct repudiation of briVxiry and patronage.
In contrast with thos*^ heroos whose patriotic op|X)si-
tion to high-toned autocratic ordinanc»'s has won them
well-merited renown, take those marshalled under the
same Imnner, but in an humble way, who only come in
conflict with what is termed " well-bred manners," and
trivial set notions — they, too, sufler petty martyrdom,
and are made to smart for their impulsive sincerity.
There may have been no rude or unkind act conuiiitted,
hut whatever be the reason, their not conforming to the
teaching and etiquette of the times, is sufficient to make
them amenable to that dreadful penalty of social ostra-
cism, which, although it may not include all the terroi-s of
a frozen Siberia, may nevertheless visit a calamity on the
victim hardly less intolerable, and all the more pitiless, in
the boundless measure of misery and deprivation entailed
ill tliat blighting, scathing, excoriating sentence, loss of
I'ATRONAGE. Our every-day business life affords numer-
ous examples of this, and some of the meaner sort, though
ludicrous in many respects, aflbrd an all the more refresh-
ing contrast to their graver prototypes.
Let a generously inebriated Hibernian enter a public
waiting room or diligence, where, we will suppose, are a
tnumber of well-regulated females, — then, with only a hazy.
90
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
nu'llow fonsciousiiesH of liis fair .siirronn<linf(H, lie hegins to
solilo(juiz<' on a variety of «lul»ious subjrcts, at tlie saiiu'
time incautiously callin;,' tliinj^s liy th«'ir riglit names.
Stiai^'litway, you will olwervc the sensitive eicatur«'>
around l»egin to assunie tlit* qui vive. There is a general
collapse of all animation, and they set themselves to per-
forming what only woman's witchery is eapal)le of, — that is,
theygooH' into that well-a.ssuined apathy which mayeasily
l>e mistiiken for a trance ; and, with all their suhtlo in-
stincts alive and active, they, in less time than 1 can write
it, re.solve themselves into a .sort of well-bred .spiritual alibi.
The minds of .some tind escape out of the window, and are
seen gazing fixedly in vacancy ; .some are lost inpensive reve-
rie; .some are c<mjuring up a new style of hairpin; whilst
others precipitat<;ly recall .some long-forgotten scene in
which they ar<^ suddenly conscious of a deep and tendei
interest. In .short, thev all tret as fur hack into the cor-
nerof elsewhere, as possible; and with silent, startling un-
animity, these fair dreamers assume! an air quite as nb
sent as if they were .some marvellous coincidence of so
many somnambulists, having met there by chance, an 1
w^aiting for anxious relatives to come and wake tliem up.
But how fares it w^ith the cause of all this mysterious
pantomime f Very soon our intoxicated friend will be-
i;in to feel a sti'antre sensation as of frost in the air — a
sort of sepulcliral dampness mingling in the atmosphere,
and thrilling to the marrow of his bones. It is nothing
but the manner of his reception, and for having, technically
speaking, overstepped, or rather staggered over those
OUR CHARITIES.
91
(lanpTous limits that Ijonlcr on propriety. I^ut it soIk'I-s
liiiii faster than i)n)hahly anything else va\i\*\ ; iiwhnMl, he
is so iin[Mvsso«l with u sense of sonietliin;jf amiss, that lie
looks alxjut him, for the first time, with a puzzled, half-
fearful expression, such as u man, of domestie hahits and
lii«^h moral sensihilities, would take on who had dined late
and rather heartily, and waked up, after a short period of
ahsent-mindedness, to Hnd himsrif in what he imagined
the lK)udoir of an Kj^'yptian harem. There is the tit^glintif
of the inevitable how-string about his neck, and then
thinking to avoid the fatal twitch, he eollects all his
drowsy energi«js in the effort, and makes off at a tangent.
If a man, whose instincts are so blunted with drink,
that he can biave anything, is afl'ecte<l thus by the cold
freezing attitu<le of set manners, an<l establishe«l notions,
what must he the punishment in the case of a sober man
who shall venture on, not a slight infringement of good
taste, but indiscreetly, rashly, blurt out something directly
and ])ainfully out of tune with our preconceived ideas and
hallowed conceits concerning ourgood men, ourimmaculate
preceptors, and especially " our charities." Of course, the
little circle about him that find it out, l)egin to feel thore
is no doubt a monster amongst them, whose ideas are out-
rageously at variance with those generally inculcated, and
they edge off — not sto])ping to think whether hit is a ghoul
simply, or, what may be erpially obnoxious, some one who
assumes to be less stupid than they.
98
RKVERIES or AV OLD SMOKKR.
III.
t«
Matters teiulin^ to controvf»i*sy which, linppily for peace
and harmony M sake, liave U'cn pasMccl upon and settled
years, it may he centuries a<;o, wc* do not like to take the
trouhle or risk to disturh ; and thus we are pre-disposed
U) favour tlie reiteration of time-worn nr^niments and
panej^yrics, all, of course, on the side we liappen to l»e. This
is especially the case if the rfiestion lucks interest or he of
no commercial importance, and not hearin*,' on. or in any
way interfering with business atfaiis; or if it has, then most
likely our a<H]uie3cence is necessary to invite or to retain
that patronage whence we derive our support or prosper-
ity. At any rate, thoy are about as near the proper thing,
we think, as we care to fashion them, or as we are our-
selves ; so, dreading to be regarded as " scepticiil," we
yield an indifferent or zealous assumption of adherence,
and are counted as supporters of a cause or belief or in-
stitution, the righteousness of which may have been dis-
puted through advei*se opinion on many a bloody field.
Hence it comes about, that the attitude of the modern
maintainer, the " latter-day " <lefender an<l-if-nee<l-be-
wari'ior, is about that of a fever and ague patient, with
a bad case of " shakes," armed cap-a-pie in the clumsy
steel armour of some giant crusader. Besides, there arc
many things we mistrust our ability to improve or our
eligibility to examine into, and thus a great part of this
enlightened and mature world, yields an apparently
helpless or politic obedience to a set of musty ordi-
OUR CIIARITIKS.
OS
nances and obsolete cnstoms in which it apparently
lias not Hurticient interest or lacks confirlence to think
rationally about, or to come in collision with. Wo may not
be altogether 8atisHe<l with the logic or connnon sense of
many views generally accepttMl as riglit ; but we let them
pass unchallenged, especially if they are tolerably pleasing
orat least not inconveniently obtrusive. They niay, indeed,
and most likely do comprise the muniments of our pseudo
faith — aye, and constituting the grassy bastions poun<ied
periodically by the batteries of adverse opinion, are
escala<led from time to time, by the van<lal progeny of
that prolific bastard Reform ! In this respect, it may bo
noted that reform stands in the same relation to our old
time heritage of creeds, dogmas, prejudices, and forms, as
a broom to house cleaning ; — with this difference, that, in-
stead of sweeping away dirt, it dispels fallacies. These
latter, however, it must be confessed, are not always to
be condemned ; nay many of them seem a most attractive
variety of beautiful ideal growths such as creep spontane-
ously over everything in the course of time. — It is not al-
\vays the most substantial thing that saves, and not the
least persuasive arguments, in favour of old time institu-
tions, are these sweet appeals to our conservative instincts.
They are the blossoms that adorn the crevices of old walls,
and we cherish the ruin for the sake of the flower; but as
age inspires wisdom, so antiquity hallows conceit,and some-
times we reverence a sentiment for the mere cnimbling
masonry that, in its creation, earlier generations were igno-
rant of. So it comes about there are vast quantities of relicsj
I
i: ?
[Il
u
•I
ill
i |i 1
''^^
1
1
1
M
94
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
enshrined and regarded with that awe and veneration per-
taining to saered things, which had only a very remote
reference to what was sacred ; so too we see fragments of
the cross ftishioned centuries ago in imitation of the ori-
ginal, ^ei to he looked upon in course of time as the gen-
uine article, and is elevated and bowgd down to as a pait
of th(» Ijoly fal>ric itself Thus in the transmutability of
things are many of the religious observances of the present
day accounted for. And it comes to pass we reverence ii»
the coal measure of a fossil period symbols which, like
the grey beards of the Druids, are sanctified only by super-
stition, and hallowed only by lapse of time.
IV.
As regards these ideal growths of blossom to winch
I have referred, they seem to germinate in some
mysterious quality, better than that we tind exhibited in
the conunoncr phases of our corporeal humanity. Though
they may sj>ring up in the conflict of our worst
passions, still their design and influence seem to be
to tend most strongly to amity ; and while I ty-
pify them here as flowers, we recognise them in every
beautiful form and fancy, and they not unfrequently find
expression in song. Thus the patriot sees in an ideal harp
with broken strings, the lacerated chords of that great
Irish heart that bled centuries ago; and both here and in
the sister Isle, grievances and even atrocities that had their
origin and day in a period so far distant as almost to have
become sacred, are kept in sympathetic accord with more
OUR CHARITIES.
95
modern sentiment, through such dulcet mediums as
" Erin go-Bragh," and "Scot's wha hae." In this way
are they blended in the " green" of those simple lea^'es,
which typify the genius of Celtic liberty, and Hower in
the sturdy plant that symbolizes the spirit of ancient
(Jaelic chivalry. In such close affinity to theses beautiful
growths, that their identity may be merged, are those
to which in our more exalted moods we claim personal
relationship ; and like the others, cropping out of the time-
seam of dreary, thatchless ruin, they get their vitality,
their sustenance, their fragrance, in certain rare and
endearing virtues that sweeten and embellish our moral
heing. They are unseen veins, as it were, of that living
water we have seen ere this bubbling up in all the limpid
purity of Horeb's fount, amid the rubbish of some
abandoned and tumbled-down old homestead, — among
these is — charity. In the sense, however, in which cha-
rity is made to seem, not only the adorable attribute
it really is, but withal subserving and gloiifying " our
charities," I claim the public estimate of this virtue
to be a fallacy, and all its resplendent lov»'liness a
beautiful fraud, that does not even attain to the true
dignity and sincerity of a moral illusion, or we might
call it that. It may embellish as the blossom, and as
such I would foster it ordinarily ; but in this case, n(it-
withstanding our splendid assumption to tho contrary,
it is not the bona fide flower — it does not shea lU verdure,
it does not drop its leaves ; it outdoes itself, it blooms per-
ennially, and seems, as it really is, out of all harmony
96
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
with nature. The fact is, it is not charity at all, and the
thing we extol as such is only a weed blooming in life-
less perpetuity, in all the artificial splendor of floral wax !
Now that I think of it, I am almost disposed to humor
the delusion regarding " our charities," and shield them
from criticism and reform. It is so comforting to foster the
presumption, which generally prevails, that the presidirig
spirit in " our charities" is charity ; and by thus incorpo-
rating with the name and purpose of the good project, an
attribute so queen-like and lovable, exalt the little bene-
fit that accrues in the exercise of our much lauded phi-
lanthropy. I say I would humour the delusion, because it
has a tendency to absolve us in the uncomfortable feeling
we might otherwise have, that we ought to have done
more ; and not only this, but another important consider-
ation involved in this issue, is the reward. There is no
doubt, in exalting " our charities" we get a proportionately
higher estimate of our own deserving. I would not decry
appreciation, but I protest that our farthing's worth is
made to seem a prodigious investment, and our greedy
mite of benevolent stock, the ground of ultimate exemp-
tion. Thus comforted, as all small minds are with the
thought of what they have done, the cry of distress, in the
heart-rending pathos of its <,ieatest need, may never reach
us ; it is effectually stifled within those inquisitorial walls
we term " our charities," and rarely penetrates beyond
those 'granite bastions which, reared in luxury to shutout
penii y, are dedicated to charity. According to this view,
the hand-writing" on these walls may be interpreted
orR CHAUITIKS.
!)7
this wise — that we seek in our prosperity to propitiate
felicity by ostracisin;^ misfortune.
I am aware that one only renders himself obnoxious by
interfering in these matters ; besides there is undoubtedly
a certain amount of goo I <lone by individuals and com-
tnunities, and even societies, in relieving distress, which
is highly commendable and proper, and I would not
disparage their etibrts. What I take exception to is not
the little good that is done, but rather the virtuous agra-
rianism, the pioas effrontery by which it is so very gene-
rally putted up and appropriated, and also to the atrocious
misnomer of calling it by a name so exalte<l as charity.
V.
There is a stran«^e commin^'lini; of j^ood aiid ill in
luiman kind, it is inherent in the race, and we are
come to regard all good deeds as to some extent palliating
a stiirma attachinji: to our nature. All share in the
credit of what is good, and in the exclusion of what is ill
and thus is the merit of the few appropriated by the many ;
there is about it, indeed, no exclusive proprietorship, and
thus do we seek in the individual exception of a rare
virtue, a connnon identity. So it is we rob the grave to
monopolize the resplendent (qualities of a parent or ancestor
or countryman. So also do we rob the ci-oss and approi)ri-
ating, as by common right, the r^^deeming traits of the
crucified, the gracious attributes of a redeeming Saviour
are made to give radiance and character to deeds, Avhich
liad otherwise left us in darkness, sneaking around
G
08
RKVEHIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKR.
on our hands nnd knees, — not seeking an honest man as
did Diogenes, hut hiding, fleeing from an infuriated rab-
ble, the demons invoked by our own conscience. Thus it
comes about, we see all around us people who do not in-
convenience themselves with a higher or more troublesome
conception of what is '* Christianlike" than an indifferent
observance of automaticforms, magnifying these exercises,
as they do their benevolence, into a species of pious pen-
ance in which one would think the agony of remorse for
assumed "short- comings," only second in intensity to that
portrayed in the burning, spluttering flesh of the martyrs,
and claiming with them, in the meantime, a full share
of the atoning graces won at the stake.
As in the case of the few whose noble deeds we applaud,
and the credit of which we generally appropriate, I would
like to see a reconstruction of the perverted sense of a
few noble words, and have restored to them something
like an adequate share of the true meaning corresponding
not to our upstart pretensions, but to their ancient and
honourable lineage. I do not object so much to the mon-
opoly of splendid names in ordinary traffic, or as tokens
purely of affection ; .as in France we see the meanest
wines branded and called by the grandest names, — in this
case if we do not like the article, we are under no
obligation to accept it : the brand, indeed, is only a mild
type of a very common fraud of which we are all cog-
nizant. In America, too, we find the shadiest population
taking upon themselves imperial nomenclature and
exhausting the whole category of great names in history
orU (HAIUTIKS.
99
sacrtMl, and profane — that is notliing, it is only a matter
of taste or simple custom. Nevertheless, while it woald
not be proper for a man to call himself by the name of
Christ, is it not a still greater outrage to see liim appro-
priating to himself the attributes of Christ, and thus seek-
ing to embellish his Vnazen image by assuming the
sanctity of the " Saviour," — and yet this is the conunonest
thing in life to behold. Not only the old things com-
ing down to us from antiquity have put on new dis-
guises, but words have changed, and many of them in
their po\ er and expression have <legenerated ; indeed
language we may once have used to prai.se, now would be
opprobrious, and regarded not simply as words, but as
names, and particularly those of virtues, their exalted
characteristics have become <legr}ided, not ahrne to the
low level of the most commonplace achievements, but to
subserve tlie high ecomium we pronounce on everything
we do. It is sickening to observe how magnificently th<'y
are applied to little deeds — yes, deeds only actually good
enough to save the performer from being ignored or abso-
lutely detested ; thus, as I have said, in the mean but
natural effort to swell the reward we aggrandize the deed,
and most frequently, as we should not know merit biit
for the comparison to an op})Osite quality, the temptation
is strong, failing our ability or inclination to exalt the
former, to degrade the latter.
VI.
The fact is, mixed up an<l absorbed as we are in
100
IlKVKIUKS OF AN OLD SMoKKK.
the grovi'lling affairs of our daily life, our minds and our
monstrous assumption of winge<l virtues are sailing up-
ward and buzzini; like Hies close under the azuie ceilinir
of the universe, — and there, fastening on to some of the
glistening jewels of that heavenly sphere, they stick, and
spawn, and multiply, till the object, by the sheer weight
of these crlustered insects, is drawn down and sinks to
earth. — Then, like so many other things pertaining to our
boasted eminence, when it rises into light again, as a
thing that is drowned, it is brought to the top only by
the gas engendered through corruption. Thus liave we
prostituted the good word Charity, and the virtue it re-
presents has been so twisted and warped and disfigured
that now, attired in the tawdry livery Of public service,
and set up in the jugglery business, all altered and dis-
guised, her own sister, Truth, would not know her. Ah,
when Charity [>ut on her new shoes, she left her charac-
ter in the old ones. Poor Charity, how sadly has the
world corrupted thee, and where shall we find a meaner
hack than thou ! Thy tinselry was never more dazzling,
but thy splendor may not shine like the spotless shene
of thy lost innocence I Get thee back to the hollow mock-
eries of whose affluent condescension and sordid selfish-
ness thou art but the graceful menial. Sincerity, in her
liumblest gown, would shame thee. Seek not, with thy
bawdy smile, to ingratiate thyself into the refuge of the
persecuted and despised, for the conditions of thy love
are liarder to bear than the penalty of their transgi-ession.
They mav seem comforted under thv ministration, and
OVti ( HARITIKS.
101
.soiiiHtniies, in<KM'.l, they an* nen«'fit»'<l, Imt tlu' iittit' thou
luiiij^est tlieiu is haniiH^reil like tht' sixpence* with the
medicine ottered to the child. This is no inapprnpriate
apostrophe to the jade we call ( 'harity. Hnt how is it,
with all our esteem foi- what is |mre and p'nuine, we
should take pride in a counterfeit so disreputahle ^ There
is about the alchemy of words an ideal element peculiarly
drcejitive an<l pleasin<^ ; and whereas the transnuitation
(►f metals only aimed at the production of gold, the prize
in this case is the enhancement of our self-esteem. Things
that we know are not gold we call golden, and this distinc-
tion as regards mateiial things is kept fairly detined, hut
as in things fanciful the o})posite is the case, that which
has eversosuiall a grain of kindliness we call charitabUs
but that little grain put under a lens as powerful as our
disposition to exaggerate, and held up to public view, is
magnified, so that a degree of excellence, only remotely
pertaining to what is good, gets tt> be regarded as the good
thing itself. Thus, as a clever lawyer often gains a case by
the mere tvun of an expression, and there])y reverses the
whole order of right and wrong, so, Mice the hoodwinked
jury, are we deceived by a subtle play on words, and the
slightest glimmering of truth is flashed up into what is
made to appear the fnll blazing orb. Aye, and ns we jump
in comparison of merit most absurdly from good to bad, so
in the reverse order of panegyric, that which is not
positively cruelty, gets to be lauded as superlative charity.
There are, it is true, redeeming shades of kindline.ss even
in our pompous display of benevolence, but as the diamond
102
KKVKHILS OF AS OI.I» SMOKKR.
a}).soil)s tin* very faintest rays of light and flashes thciii
hack again great dazzling sunheanis, so have we monopo-
lized tho procrious namo and suhlinie niission of Charity,
that she, like the diamond, mav take in our most distant
gleams of pity, and inflect hack upon us a refulgent glory,
not our own. In this way, too, may we accotuit for much
of the arrogance of people, and espeeiall}' that pre])oster-
ous assumption of superiority over otliers, which is a
marked feature (jf our "higher life." I am hound to say
it is only too often the ahsurd assumption of a magnificent
moral and social elevation, all as ludicrous as to stride a
stuffed eagle and imagine one's-selfriding on a whirlwind,
soaring, with all the hrute instincts and incund)rances
of the flesh, to an aerie in that virgin realm, whose purity
is the perpetual and innnaculate snow!
VII.
A poor man has fallen in the street ; he may have been
drunk, but now he is biuised and bleeding, may be
dying ; a public guardian takes him in charge and has
him conveyed to the hospital, where he will be properly
cared for. Is a regulation of this .soi't, charity ? No
there is no particle of charity about it. It is simply the
exercise of common humanity', and anything less were
brut;\lity — cruelty ! It may be said they feed and doc-
tor and nurse him till he is well for a merely nominal
charge which in case he has no money, is not insisted on.
Well, such a provision, while being commendable, is at the
.same time necessary — it is wanting, however, in the in-
OVU CHAI:ITIES.
103
j^rt'dient of option, to make it setMn even kin<lly — and as
for its hein^ charital»le, it is no more so than any other
«'xcellent municipal regulation con<lu(;ive to the public
weal, — as, for instance, compulsory vaccination. Intleetl,
it is no particular credit to the good word benevolence to
call it that, being as it really is, a simple common-place
j)rovision for all such emergencies as might be expected
in communities priding themselves on their opulence
and liberality, and abounding most plentifully, we may
observe, where the generosities of the people are ma<ie
the agreeable hobbies of the more affluent. True, tlie
bill presented the poor convalescent is not exorbitant,
it may lie a mere bagatelle, but if he have ever so
little money, they manage to worm it out of him, and in
the case of the decrepit, if they have any work left in
their old lK)ne3 they manage to grind it out also, and
that not always in the gentlest and most considerate
manner. It is not my i)urpose, here, to examine the re-
cords of " Our Charities," — they are, it is only too well
known, replete with provocation, hypocrisy, and outrage. 1
simply ask, what constitutes their claims to the sublime
title they have assumed ? Is it the cheapness of these
institutions ^ Aye, then, they are only such a refuge in
misery and destitution, hh may, not inappropriately, f)e
termed " bon marche."
But you say, suppose a man build an institution and
j'ive it to the indii^ent and afflicted — now this is con-
sidcred the "piece cle reslMan-ce" and anything but eulogy
would b^ construed as downright blasphemy — well, is not
104
RtVKRII-S OK AN <»I,r» SMOKKR.
that cliaiity ^ I inuy stein obtuse, peiveree, prejiuliced,
but I must cniplintically say— N<> ! The man who is ahir
to do such a thin;;, lias hoanled up his money and wlien he
finds he eannot possihl}' use it to atiord him tlie ^^rnHfica-
tion he I'Xpeeted, lie feels disappointed, eha^riiwid ; it loses
its eharm, and he wiys in that dire perplexity that liaulks
the most suceessful sehenier—'' What shall 1 do with it" —
as a man would who is trying to run away with more than
he ean earry. He is just generous enough to deeide n<»t
to hury it, ns he wouM have a legal right to do; li«»
knows he will not live long, aud as founding an institu-
tion is the only way a man <*;in deeently huild a monu-
ment to himself ami live to enjoy it, he huilds this
monument, and the world l)ows dowi\ to it and calls it
Charity, and the man a philanthropist ; at the same time
this ffood man mav have brothers and sistei*s and ai^ed
parents grubbing through a miserable rxistenee and suf-
fering absolute privation, whom he utterly ignores orag-
gi'avates with some slight remembrance. In this connec-
tion, we njay mention that a monument does not require
the substrAtvnii of humandust to make it a memorial, and
many of these, instead of being simple columns, are reared
in the form of an edifice, or something that may be util-
ized, and as such serve a two-fold f)urpose, — they may Im'
useful and beneficial to a conmiunity and at the same
time memorize the 'person by whose bounty they were
erected. So it is, now-a-da^'s, when a large sum is given
by way of " charity," the donor is rather prone to require
it to take this shape, and seeks to make the gift the price
Ot'lt ( IIAUITIKS.
lo:,
o
f an <'inlnnii<,' snuvcnir. Now, t<» give this ainouiit
away in small siuiis to the <listres>je<l, as we wouhl ail-
minister ntedieine to the sick, ih>es n<»t seem to answer
tlie purpose of the modern philanthropist, so he foun<ls or
«ii«l(>WN an institution with th«' professed object of amel-
iorating future distress. This would U» all very eoni-
niendahle, leaving out the ipiestion of motive, were it not
that we have too many huildings of that sort now; be-
sides, the ])ublic "benefactor," in this ease, must inevit-
ably have p'assed so many in the travail of great innne-
diat*' want. And, why may we not «|Uot»' in this connec-
tion, "an<I shrtieient unto the day!" Na}*, had the indi-
viduals referred to <dven awav what thev did in h-ssnote-
worthy items, they might and probably must have don«'
without a sjdendid "charity" monument, and the wealth
therein entailed had been swallowed up in that great
troubled sea of hungering humaititv.
Again you say, can we hope to find anything more
U'nevoN'nt, more charitable, than our Romish and English
(hurehes, together with their splendid group of affiliated
institutions. It does appear that way and no doubt with
a certain amount of desert ; but we can only judge these
institutions by our knowledge of individuals. I have
seen men, and they were mueh above the average lot, who
were sympathetic and " charitable" in a distant view of
those objects and situations which are supposed to inspire
such sentiments, and their voices, often laised in random
commiseration, were a power of benevolence. 1 do not
say they were not sincere, I believe in their way they
KMJ
REVEUIKS OF AN OIJ> SMOKEH.
were*, and so far it was all woll cnouj^li, conHidering tli«'
(»l»j«?ct.s were sufficiently remote to allow tlieni to conjuiv
tip eases they thought worthy of their approhntion. Hut,
iiiin«l you, it was all u charity of fancy, — a spectral coni-
torter risinj^ in the midst of their cheerful surroundings to
make them Hush and smile in self-^ratidation, — a blooming'
exotic, with, however, insufficient fragrance, leave alone
fruit, to overcome tlu^ first douhtful sniHTof a conHictin;;
smell. Their sympathy and charity was all invented on
ideal, pattern principles to correspond, not to what
misery i», hut what it ouifht to be ; and these same men
brought close up to some disgusting novelty in the way
of, not physical <letormity, but real mental and bodily
surtering, in nine cases out of ten, detect an odor about
it or its history that displeases them, and they are, all at
once, j)ossessed with an insuffenable repugnance — a poKi'ivc
aversion. The fact is, we are all humanitarians in the
abstract, but bring us in actual contact with all the
objectionable details, and the whys and wherefores that
lead to trouble and <lown the hill to want and degradation,
and it cools us ofi' immensely, and the cucumber in our
bosom is no longer a warm responsive heart.
^o it is when a wrong is committed, the perpetrator,
evincing a depravity actually only a few degrees below,
not our fancy standard, but the real moral average, and a
great hue and cry is raised, — the poor victim is regarde<l
a,s a mon.ster, an abnormal exception to the rest of his
species, and as in the " reign of terror" during the Frencli
Revolution, so now, in our social intercourse, we dare not,
OUR ( HAKITII
107
it" we wouM, sytnpatliizr ; tlit're in such a tU-klish inistrtiHt
of S4»lf ami of otlnTs" opinions of us, wt» tliink, we pro-
fesH a iM'coniin^' al»horrenee of the criminal hy approving
and advocating an iniplac4ihle and excoriating sentence,
mid in th«^ chorus of denunciation no voice is heard ho
loudlv vocifer; Hnj; t) hi hnxtei^i*' as that of the "char-
itahle" and "virtuous" ntuth. It is \\\ sudi dehisive ex-
(•••Hses as I have attempted to drsciihe, and hy makinj; up
character hy false and responsihh' estimates, w»' arrive at
tliase grand results by which we swell the train of our
pompous pretensions. Tt is thus we are exalted almve
iMuselves, a]M)Ve ri'j^ret, ahove pity, alx)ve penitence, and
Mild so much tliat should excite our deeptjst commisj'ra-
tion, unahle to commend itself to our overtrained and
liackoneyed sensihilities. It is thus, too, we evant^elize con-
ceit, and canonize luxury, and make the slops that ooze
out of the fj^luttonous ceremonial the boasted tribute we
• lub charitv.
VIII.
In the lukewarm spasms of pity that Hit in the sputterin*»
tallow of our hearts, behold those beacon li«,dits that radi-
ate afar; but instead of warminj^ and cheering the dingy re-
fuge of the poor, they are made rather to shed a halo (jf pious
Ixmevolence around those ostentatious monuments we call
our charities." Our charities, forsooth ! If these two
words mean anything at all, then what a world of pent-
up sympathy do they comprehend for the human race
and for all the ills that " Hesh is heir to," — what inexhaus-
tible reservoirs of loving, forgfivintr commisenition, not for
108
KKVKIUFS OF AN uLD SMoKKtt.
tlie sweet-sinelUnj; anil heautiful onlv, Imt for the most
repulsive and tlie worst kind of tribulation and distress.
There is, I admit, a halo of good intention surrounding;
thene institutions ; hut perverted with fanaticism, fettered
and chilled with tljeolog3% they are heconie a species of
splendid advertisement — the go6<l work, a competition of
of rival sects for conveits, and a conHict of bigots for
souls. Here, poor broken-down humanity is prepared for
dissolution by l)eing put through the throes of exorcism,
and all the comfort eked out of charity is pricking and
bleeding in an agony of " thorns " — Syndjols of benign in-
tent moulded in stone, our charities are jnesented to
the pul)lic in the splendid guise of im|)osing architecture,
and yet to the pooi* and hungry their good cheer is as the
feast of Tant lus, and their towering symmetry not less
repulsive than the grimmest spectre of destitution. — Monu-
ments of superabundance, lising sphinx-like in a <lesert.
they smile down in gloomy grandeur, an<l while assuming
to be hot-beds warming in tenderest sympathy, are, witii
rare excej)tions, gilde<l refrigerators, which, while drip-
ping tears of pity on the outside, are congealing within
in an atmosphere of frost and ice.
As we have observed, there is a general tendency t
sublimate not only petty deeds of so-called charity, but
other things as Avell, which, while enhancing, to an
absurd degree, the importance of acts which are sim-
])ly humane or j)olitic, gives a relative degree of re-
spectability to others wdiich, if not down-right despicable,
are at least only mediocre. Thus, praising to the skies
o
OUR rHARITIKS.
1 01)
the peit'uriiiaijce of a simple duty, makes the omis-
sion to do wliat we ought to do seem, if not laud-
able, at least excusable. In saying aught against
anything held in such jealous esteem as are the in-
stitutions to whieli 1 have referred, it may seem to
many like scofting at the J)ivine, — if so, my apology is
tliey are not divine. Moreover, yielding the subliine tri-
bute of charity to all that comes under the head of simple
l)enevolence, however gratifying it maybe to the giver of
' ahns" and the founder of memorial palaces for the poor,
indicates, in my humble judgment, three things : — first, the
fulsome putting of our puny virtues ; second, a vulgar esti-
mate of the attributes of the Most High ; third, the righteous-
ness of protest. I cast no slur on the true spirit of religion;
and in all I have said, I have failed to make myself under-
stood, if I have not succeeded in inspiring the feeling that,
on the one hand, we should set a higher estimate on all
wise precept, and, on the other, cultivate a clearer,
purer conception of all things jiertaining to those vir-
tues which go to make up the elements of a truly noble
and ingenuous chamcter. In the bearinjj such senti-
iiients have upon my subject, I have sought to give
them expression in words which, injustice to the effort,
it must be confessed are weak and ineffectual, when com-
pared with the more powerful and pathetic appeal of
visible proof abounding on every side ; and in this con-
nection I may mention a tableau that often presents it-
self to my mind — I mean the sight of charity shivering
on the steps of ** our charities."
110
REVERrES OF AX OLD SMOKER.
In conclusiun, you may ask, what is Charity, then,
to one so sceptical ? I confess the answer is difficult. It is
much easier to reply in the negative and tell what it is
not and I may say emphatically it is not the thing we see
paraded about, banqueted,an(l aggrandized, and apostroph-
ized as such; indeed it is something more rehned even than
the extreme opposite of what is barbarous and cruel. Ah,
but then you say with a little more deference for what
the good word means, but all the more persistently, <'A<»
is Charity ? I answer, no one can tell. We may define the
word but not the spirit. Indeed, to say she is the rarest
and sublimest of all the virtues does not describe her, nor
do her any manner of justice. Those who have felt her
touch may know her by that — it is grateful and pure
as tlie first reviving kiss of fragrant spring upon the
cold marble cheek of poor frozen winter. We may feel and
yet be powerless to define, and were I a Gainsborough, in
word painting, I might have the desire but not the ability
to attempt her portrait. Suffice it then as the most lovablo
if not the most beautiful of all the graces she had made a
conquest of the heart of Christ, when He kissed Mary
Magdalene, called her " sister," forgave her, and bade her
*' depart in peace and sin no more."
Lary
her
FIRST EXPERIENCK UNDER FIRE.
A REMINISCENCE OF THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR.
I.
ANY one who has never licard the " long roll," particu-
larly in time of war, in camp and in close proximity
to the enemy, has missed one of the most, I think I may say,
the most stirring of all alarms. It is a continuous roll of
the drum, setMuing to increase in volume and intensity
with each successive moment, and is kept u[> for some
tiuje, according to circumstances. It is nt^ver resorted to
except in cases of extreme danger, and then, while it never
fails to inspire the liveliest ai)prehension in the minds of
many, the emergency calls into requisiti(m all the silent,
([uestionless alacrity of the soldier. The meaning is, "to
arms," and the crisis almost warrants the assumption that
the enemy is in sight and advancing to attack. Then comes
the quick incisive order to " tall in," and straightway each
company commander and subaltern, each sergeant and pri-
vate, vies with the other in the credit and honor of being
first in "company" and on "battalion line." Every thought,
every business or diversion other than that pertaining to
the new and startling situation must give way, and yield
the most prompt obedience to that inexorable summons
to expectant combat, the issue of which is life or death,
114
HKVERIES OF AN OLJ> SM<»KE1{.
himI tlie near approacli of* tlie dn.'a<l alttTiiativr' is niiinis'
mistakably proclaimed in that fateful roll and rueful
rumble of the drum. The change, then, from the mono-
tonous routine of eveiy-day camp life to all the necessary
prei)arations for attack and defence, can only in a very
slight degree be imagined by those whose good fortunes
have " cast their lines" far away from the arena of bloody
strife, in those pleasant ways of peace and harmony where
nothing more serious disturbs the (piiet serenity of social
life than the occasional uproar of an anniversary, the dis-
cord of a domestic .S(|uall, or the sudden jar of an un-
friendly knockdown. Some are reading or writing — not
a few telling stories or playing cards, and many loungin<^
about homesick and listless. Not the least di.splease<l,
too, of the many who find this change of progiamme olj-
jectionable, are those engaged, as quite a number are likely
to be, in the popular and highly commendable process of pre-
paring the coming meal. It may be that which is welcomed
so gratefully, either in the bracing, appetizing air of early
dawn, or in the hungrier, more sumptuous hour of noon.
Under any other conditions, cookie's time-honored pre-
rogative of exemption had held its ground inviolable and
supreme, but none better than he knows, in this great
emergency, how sweeping and inexorable that imperative
summons, so significantly heralded, of " All fall in." If,
then, he stops to remove from the treacherous fire his little
feast of savory stew, his tempting roast of beef or fowl,
he does so in frantic haste, and at his own proper peril.
I believe it was in the autumn of '03 that the event to
which my narrative refers took place. We were encamped
nearthe little village of Suffolk, in Eastem Virginia, and had
KIHST EXPKHIENCK UNDER KIRK.
n:>
Ix^en liavinc^Mi very "soft tluii;; " of it, with very little
to do, outside our re»jular drill, hut ride about, get
up games, and liave our photographs taken ; not a few
of us at this time developing a faculty for correspon-
dence we didn't know we possessed l)efore, but it was
of the "spicy" sort; our reading too, was not the kind
to win us promotion, being of the order yclept " light ;"
history, it is true, we patronized, not, however, as
consumers, but producers. Our mSnu was rather scant,
and we alternately fasted on " hard-tack and salt-horse,"
furnished by a none too liberal conmiissariat,and feasted on
the boxes of good things sent from home. We use«l to have
occasional marches out for a change, but so far ha<l hardly
exchanged shots with the enemy, having honorably man-
aged, some way, to shy round one and other, and there
liad been nothing of what might be calle<l fighting with
our regiment, although some of the others had had a
little " out-post" exercise, not unattended with blood-
shed. Thus far I was not able to boast of having been un-
<ler fire, and the little narrative of my maiden engage-
ment was still a thing of the future. Indeed, up to this
time I knew no more about the music of b\illets than ha<l
been obtainable, in a rudimentary way, in cautiously avoid-
ing the range at target practice. From this, it may be in-
ferred, I think correctly, that I, for one, was not '* spoiling
for a fight ; " nevertheless my turn was coming, and not
long to be delayed. I remember the day, but not the
date ; had that evening received a box from home, full of
all sorts of hixuries and lots of trood things to eat, drink
no
RKVKIUKS OF AN (>M> SMoKKR.
and bu uieiTy over ; MUch, indeed, as but one woman in tlio
world can devise, and .she I always claimed to be my own
mother. We did have a «^rand feast on this occasion - a
regular tuck-out, and one to be recalled subsecpiently in
nmny a tryin*,' interval of starvation and hardship. When
the banijuet was over and our little band luul wishe<i each
other good-ni«^ht, I got out niy pipe to smoke a " niglit-
cap," and think of home, and of th(i one especially to whose
affection and forethought 1 was indeV)ted for such good
cheer. Then it was, 1 think, I began to feel a bit gloomy,
and, in my absent-mindedness, let my pipe go out, which,
M'ith me, is a bad sign ; am not sure but that 1 had the
least shade of a presentiment of something about to
happen, of a nature unhappily contrasting with our
evening's entertainment. Before turning in, I poked my
head out to take a look around — " taps " had sounded some
time before, and with the extinguishing of lights, for
which they are the signal, had come an end to revelry. The
camp was hushed and dark, and the convivial orgies of the
eight hundred men who composed out battalion, had died
away into silence and repose. I had hardly lain down and
commenced the harmless exercise of snoring, when I was a-
loused by a fearful rumbling sound, which grew louder and
louder till it seemed to grapple my drowsy senses and shake
them wide awake. Then I was able to distinguish the
tramping of feet outside, and the confused hum of voices,
amongst which could be heard the harsh, guttural word of
command. At this moment there was a sudden spring from
the bunk next to mine, and the voice of my old chum,
West, exclaimed impulsively: — " It's the long roll, by Jove !"
FIHST KXI'KIUKNCE ITNhEU FIRK.
117
II.
It seems our pickets had Injen «lrivrn in, iiul.of (•o»ii-sr,
we lia<l been onleie<l out. From this |M)int in my narra-
tive we may pass li«,ditly over what transpired till we near
the scene of action and of my tirst experience under fiix*. At
any rate, owin^' to the confusion, I do not remember much
of what occurred until some distance had been traversed
on the march out. Our direction was across the Nanci-
numd river, westerly towards tht; Black water; the latter
stream was some eii'htor ten miles awav, the former just
outside our line of fortifications. This was the route
whence the alarms <]renerally proc»;eded, and which we <;en~
erally took ; it le<l ri^dit into the enemy's country, where
there was understood to be a large force' assembled, threat-
ening our strongliold — in fact we had been expecting to
be besieged every day, as indeed we were, later, by (Jcneral
Longstreet. The night was dubious, and gave rather un-
pleasant indications of a storm — a star twinkled fitfully
here and there through chinks in the clouds, seeming to
give eyes to vapory monsters that looked down upon a
darkened scene, lighted, from time to time, by those fan-
tastic Hames and phos[)horescent fiashes peculiar to the
swamp regions of the south.
The roads, which were, as might have been expected in
that part of the country, miserably bad, led nearly all the
way through bog and bush land, being crossed by number-
less little streams, but no bridges. I always feel rather
" skittish " in the woods at night ; I don't niean frightened
]|8
RKVKHIF-S OK AN (U.U SMoKKH.
Imt fidj^cty, though in tl»e «biy-tii!ie no ono can hr more
ready or willinj^ to take refuge there, aiitl well do I call
to niind the dash ami energy with wliich I have pene-
trated their recesses in quest of deer or partridge. But this
was (juite a different sort of game; heretofore, the shooting
had been all on niv side, now the honors were to be
divided, and I confess the change was not so agreeable as
might have been Hupposecl by those who are descended
from a warlike family, and from ancestors to whom light-
ing was at once an agreeable pastime, and an anti-dys-
j)etic exercise. Without feeling, as I rememlKjr, any special
desire to meet the enemy, I had managed to appear pretty
fairly and becomingly indifferent ; but the nature of the
low lying, swampy, woody country, heilging us in all
round, was suggestive in the extreme, and more than
once 1 found myse'.f calculating the chances of an ambus
cade ; but that was unpleasant to ponder over, so I tried
to think of somethini; else. It was no unwelcome diver-
sion that I began to feel about this time a bit hungry, and
my thoughts recurred to the box I had received and the
good things, all snug in camp awaiting my return, and a re-
newal of the feast. It is always cheering to anticipate the
keen appetite one will be sure to have afterso much march-
ing and fasting ; on these occasions, too, one's mind turns
back to home and friends, and now as we marched silently
along, I believe those amongst us who had any body to
care for Ihem, thought of the place far away, where they
had sai<l good-by, and wondered wistfidly what a night
niight bring forth. My thoughts, at least, took some such
FfRST FXPKRIHNCK UNDKIl KIRK.
119
a turn. I was a moru boy then, but it all conios up in
vivid retrospect, how F thought I saw Homethinj^ In dear
nld mother's anxious fare that made me uneasy ; indeed,
r think then I wished myself well quit of that night's
business, and was «|uite willing and rea<ly t<M'Xchange all
the romance of war, or at least that which was Pkely to
accrue to my heroism, for the more precious assurance of
an undiminished length of hundde, prosy biogmphy, in
that hill-side home which, under the circumstances seemed
so incomparably ' the dearest spot on eartli,"
III.
Our column was composed of one brigade uf infantry,
two regiments of cavalry, and one battery of artillery ; *
also, I may add here, a company of sharp- shooterj*,
though they nevercount much in a fight. As we a()[)roached
the place where the enemy was thought to be posted, we
were constantly being startled by false alarmsfromthefront,
and though these were somewhat of an annoyance, and not
a little strain on our nerves, they kept us from being as
drowsy as we otherwise should have been, and as one is
apt to be in a lonesome tedious march at night. In this way
we had been trudging along for over two hours in constant
a|>prehension, and without discovering any sign of oppo-
sition. It was not the first time we had been routed out of
our comfortable beds, for what turned out to have been a
* 69th, 99th, l.Wth New York, and the 13th Indiana reginientH, Infantry ;
11th PonnHylvania Cavalry, and lat N. Y. Mounted Rifles ; an Indiana hat
lery, toJ,'eth^r witli a <letavhjn**nt of Tith U^it*^*^ States Artillery »
120
BEVEUIKS OF AN OLD KMOKKR.
inidni^'ht " wil«J-got)Hfc-chaRC," an<l tliere wbh already some
mIiow 'of gruinMinpf in the ranks. M«'anwhilo, nm not
aware I was {mrticiilarly diHappointtHl to tVel our chanet's
for a meeting' were growing Hliniiiu'i-, and tlit* prospect of a
" bniHh" dwindling' away into a tedious eounteiinareh hack
to camp. Any uneasiness 1 may have felt at first how-
ever, was rapidly suhsidini^, wlien all nt once the ptillnesH
of every hody and every thin^ around and amonj^st us was
broken hy the sharp detonation of a dozen shots Hre«l in
quick succession — tliesc were followe<l almost imme<liately
hy a volley, and then another and still louder discharge,
all of which ran^j out with startlin*^ distinctness on the
night air.
This little by-play took place at a point about a mile or
so distant in our front, and the intelligence wasflashed back
upon the wliole length and breadth of our weary, listless
column that at last we had struck the foe, — we knew, then,
that the chorus of rifles still ringing in our ears, was, as
it turned out to be, our advance guard in contact with
and driving in the enemy's outpost. If my memory
serves me right, I am correct in saying it wiis not
found necessary to issue the order that all dreaming shouM
be temporarily discontinued. We were all thoroughly
aroused, and having been halted opened out nind)ly in
two lines to the right and left of the road. This was to
make way for the General comman<ling, (Corcoran), who
galloped up smartly fiom the "rear," and proceeded to
the " front," closely follow^ed by liis statt' and the battery
KIKST EXI'KIIIKNCK UNDEK KIRE.
121
of artillery all a In j)^le'm/lc. llien we clostMl in (piiekly
l)ehiii<l, ami rrsunu'd our forwanl inoveiiicnt.
Fruin this time on, till uikUt lire, I felt a straii;^e tiiij;-
ling sensation, together with an all almorhing hut not un-
pleasant intt'rest in what we knew was eoining. Tlie
feeling of <lread, all ha«l no douht experienced at Hrst,
had yithhMl directly, and was supei-seile*! hy a general im-
pulse to rush forward and do something, anything, to re-
lieve the fast growing eagerness and susj)ense. On our
way, as we passed the spot where the picket firing lind
taken place, I got my first sight of a woundeil nuin ; he
was lying down partly strip[)ed. in charge of the surgeon
who seemed to he endeavorin;j to trace the course of a hul •
let which had penetiated the region of the lungs. He was
a mere lad, — I caught a glimpse of his face hy the light
of a lantern, it was pale and ghastly looking, — but he was
quiet an<l resigned, and seemed only weary and faint. This
tableau had rather a bad effect on my nt'rves, and I believe
just then my face indicated .symptoms of early and rapid
decline, or that, at least, I was not in my usual robust
liealth and spirits. The spectacle of the wounde«l an<l
flying is a severe ordeal for men advancing to share in tlie
vicissitudes of an engagement ; indeed, it is the .season of
probation, that besets people in every sphere in life, only
under the circumstances of which I s{)eak it is gieatly
condensed with the travail of spirit proportionately inten-
sified. There may be immunity from it, but with some
it is the toughest strain they have to bear.
122
RKVERIES OF AN Ol.D SMOKKH.
IV.
li
We had struck the eneiiiy under General Pryor, at a
place called " Deserted House," and the fight which ensued
was simply an artillery duel over a field, say eight or nine
liundred yards across, environed with forest and swani]).
The position of our regiment, after deploying, was about
fifty yards in rear of and "su[)poi-ting" the artillery,
and while taking post I did not fail to observe we weie
being brought right fairly within the focus of our oppon-
ents' tire. Sometime before we got settled, our battery,
a tidy instrument of fifteen guns, had commenced the
the exchange of preliminary compliments with the ene:iiy,
who, as it was afterwards ascertained, had about the same
weight of metal. Both sides now opened the ball in ear-
nest,at point blank range overa bit of meadow land smooth
as a tenis lawn and fiat as a billiard table. The gunners,
too, roused as they had been from the lethargy of a chill
night air, had unlimbered and gone to work with even more
than their habitual gusto, and each piece served with a
skill which, thi*ough long practice anticipates dilemma,
when the emergency comes, it dispenses with deliberation,
and acting at a glance, the precision is easy and faultless
as the puzzling aptitude of a deft " cue."
Now the darkness which had before enveloped us, began
to give way to the incessant flash of burning powder, and
the sulphurous smoke all threw over the scene a luri<i
glare, not uidike that we may have witnessed on the stage
in incantation scenes of Druid worship. We could see thv
FIRST EXPKUIKXCK UNDEK FIRE.
ll»3
cHiinoneers at work, brinj^'ing up bullets ami ammunition
from the caisnons, and loading and firing, and they seemed
for all the world like those demons of the Catskills who per-
formed at nine pins, an<l gesticulated with such elfish glee,
before the placid Rip van Winkle. Notwithstanding mat-
ters began to assume an air so business-like, still, I confess,
for a while I did not, in any degree, realize the situation
in all its solemn and dreadful aspect; even attempted
an ofi-hand joke, not so much to appear funny, as that I
thought it would indicate a becoming nonchalance, and so ex-
claimed ; — " Boys, I'm thinking we'll have lights to-night
without candles I" Had hardly got the words well out of
my mouth, when what seemed tome an uncommonly solid
shot struck the top of a tree which had spread its pro-
tecting arms over our heads, bringing down a shower
of leaves and broken limbs. I may add here, I joked no
more that night — felt admonished levity would not be
tolerated. Soon after this, the order was passed to lie
down ; in the executicm of this simple manoeuvre I gave
the example to the rest of the men, and had presence of
n)ind enough to select low ground.
I
V.
The cannonade quickly reached its climax, and the
crash, to my unaccustomed ears, was simply terrific.
Besides, the discharges followed each other so rapidly as
to seem almost a continuous roar, except now and then,
a simultaneous explosion altogether, not unlike we occa-
sionally hear in a mild sort of way, in the irregular clash-
124
RKVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
!
mg of cathedral bells, — then, the earth trembled with the
thunder of a salvo, after which came a momentary pause,
worse, even, in its tiresome unstringin<^' of nerves than the
concussion itself. They were no empty, meaningless,
compliments, those giant detonations, — all so like and yet
so different from the frolicsome hubbub of noisy anniver-
saries, — nay, pat-shots were those huge, plunging, shriek-
ing missiles of death, and skinning the ground so closely too,
as they seemed to me. Our adversaries' range for a while
was, as is almost invarably the case in tiring, too high
close, V)ut not close enough ; they were not long, however,
in discovering the defect, and set about, as only skilful
workmen can, rectifying it; then dov. n, 1. ,vn, down,
came that awful trajectory ! I say I lay Hat, but how I
longed and shortened and squirmed to get flatter, aye,
and for the superlative degree of flat. How lovingly I
cuddled that damp, cold ground, I never can forget, and
1 see now before me, as plainly as if it had just happened,
the eagerness and frantic despair, or maybe I ought rather
to say, presence of mind, with which I sought to find
a less exposed place, at the same time keeping ns low
and as (juiet as if all but my extremities were par:'; > 3(1.
I see my hands and fingers gliding about me now lo
find that devoutly longed for dimf)le in the ground, and
no pitying mother, caressing the bruised and tender bump
of a fiistborn could have been half .so })ersistent and yet
so gentle, — no blind man, spelling out with his fingers' ends
the gladsome hope of restored vision, could have had a
touch more exquisitely sensitive than mine as I felt about
FIRST KXPKRIENCE UNDER FIRE.
125
me for that priceless indi'utation, that iiiicroscopic chasm
wherein to take refuse and to alter, by the fraction of a hair,
tlu? awful chances of that gradually sinkinj^ parabola of fire.
And oh horroi's those louder explosions seemed almost to
raise a fellow up I The ni<;ht was cool and even frosty ,and
yet there was a closeness about everything, and the very
air seemed tainted with a belliiTferent o<l()ur that was
suffocating and oppressive in the extreme.
I have no hesitation in affirming that had I been
the owner of Chatsworth, I had gladly given it to have
been at the north pole in search of the toothbrush and
shirtbuttons of Sir John Franklin. I could have been buried
ulive, indeed, and sphinx-like looked out upon the battle
and enjoyed it, but as it was, there I lay all night right in
the focus of hell-fire. At one time one of our caissons
hlew up, and at another, I remember, a shell struck di-
rectly in front of where I lay and ricochetted over our
lieads, splashing the dirt up in our faces ; of all that
interested crowd of watchful spectators I don't believe
one " ducked" on this occasion, they hadn't time. Those
bullets come on so precipitately, and take one so confound-
edly by surprise. Presently came ray experience of " first
killed," I mean in our inuiiediate vicinity. A solid globe of
iron, propelled at a velocity of something less than five
hundred yards per second, plumped like a shadow right
into the line of crouching, shrinking, shivering fc^rms. It
had grazed the ground quite near where I lay — ah, I hear
it now, and it sounded in the uproar then, not unlike the
scratching of my pen, and the impression, in one way, is
IJ
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12(i
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
similar to that we are so familiar witli wlien a cricket l»all
at Prince's, or the Oval, takin<,^ the direction of the ^'rand
stand, lands amongst the ladies' petticoats : there is a thud
an<l one ima<^ines a miitHedsoimdas of yielding garments, —
a murnnir, too, as of stifled sobs, and then all is quiet till
the roar of the battle, which seemed hushed a moment,
rushes in a<»;ain.
VI.
That shot killed two of our best men and wounde<l
several. It was more than I could bear calndy, expec-
tantly. There was in our company a German sergeant
of very extensive proportions, indeed, when he sat down
he was able fully to monopolize a small sized pew. The
bulky veteran was then lying near by. Here was n
chance — this was the moment that came to Wellington
at Waterloo, and tliat Ney missed at Quatre Bras, —
I mean the happy nick of time caught in a glance of
lightning rapidity, — that subtle period between perfect
fruition and incipient perishing, that one requires to
strike, to win the prize, dame fortune, in a fickle mood, nj-
lows to gleam an infinitesimal space of time the unguarded
prey of those eagle perceptions which, like Napoleon's or
Nelson's, seem rather to divine than wait the full deve-
lopment. I ordered the sergeant to creep up to where
I was — he should have been there anyway, although^ he
was not skulking, being, as I can vouch, a brave soldier
and a worthy roan. I now put him in the front rank,
the post of honour, and modestly settled myself flat down,
FIUST KXI'EUIKNCE irNDEU EIRE.
12:
rlirectly in rear of, ami close up to Ins aiiteccilents.
After this stage of tlie battle 1 became inoic tranquil and
resignetl. Meanwhile, my friend Captain Taylor, who
commanded the next company on our left, ha<l not fare«l
so well ; his courage ha<l been high enough to raise him
on his elbows, whore, with his head cocked, he had been
watching the rapid play of the rival batteries. We learn
by experience to judge danger by certain signs, and un
(ler the circumstances of being " shelled " at night, as we
were, an important indication of mischief was the light of
the fuse which the enemy was then using ; if stationary in
its flight you might consider yourself directly in range,
as any other than a direct line would give it motion.
Whether poor Taylor had watched these fire-flies till he
had become emboldened or whether he saw in that station-
ary glimmer a horrible, resistless fascination that rendered
him powerless to avert his doom, will never be known ; on
comes the fatal slug, a hissing, shrieking, precursor of de-
struction — a dull, heavy concussion is heard, — there is a
splashing of earth behind the captain, who, turning ([uietly
but quickly over on his back,looksuptothe blue archalM)ve,
it might have been in the mute consciousness of having, in
soldier parlance, escaped " a close call," and as if in the
Rilent depths of unutterable gratitude he would have said
for the little ones at home and the anxious prayerful wife
far away, — " God, I thank thee !" His brother by his side
sees his white, ghastly face near his own, and shakes him in
the rude impulse of a dawning fear, — then, shrinks away !
Alas ! that once manly form and robust physique had, in
I
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128
REVKRIES OE AN oM) SMOKEH.
a flash, undeigone the dreaded metamorphosis of death.
Tlie }>all had <lisembowelled him completely, but he was
not otherwise man|i(led. I noticed, next day, the gilt buttons
of his waistcoat were quite flattened as if with a hammer,
though none of them, that I could perceive, were detached.
Some excit«*ment in the ranks at one time seemed to at-
tract the attention of my sergeant (the one 1 liefore re-
fi'rred to) and lie commenced gathering himself up as if
he contemplated a change of base ; this new intention on
his part was far from meeting my approbation, but, what-
ever his plan was, I did not suflfer it to ripen — I " nipped
it in the bud." Raising myself slightly, and calling the
the sergeant by name, I said, (throwing at the same time
all the thunder into my voice I could spare) : — " Sergeant,
if you move, you are a dead man ;" and then [ added, in a
tone of gentle reproof, — ' we are holding a position of
great importance, and our country calls us to be firm."
Later on, when I had become a trifle more used to this
sort of thing, I went with Lieutenant West to another part
of the field, and chance threw us into company with the
Colonel of our regiment. We w^ere walking along to-
gether when a sjiell dropped and exploded with a deafer.-
ing noise close at hand ; indeed, it seemed right at our
very feet, an appearance which I afterwards found was
deceptive. I did not " start " — no, that expression is not
quite strong enough — I jumped, I leaped right up into
the air, as if every nerve in my sensitive body had been
probed, and for a moment or two I thought the breath
had been knocked right out of me. It was not so much
FIRST KXrEKIENCE UNDER FIRE.
120
fear cither as tluit I was sin'j)nse(l, nnd I tliink the
Colonel, a blurt*, profane old vetcmn, saw it in this light,
for he swore aC nie in his gentlest, most considerate
tone and maimer, and in language too terrible to be re-
peated here, philosophized as regards that awfully hot
place to which, had that shell been intended for me, I
must inevitably have gone ere I had time to jump.
YII.
Towards morning the enemy's fire slackened, and we
found at daylight, when our line advanced, their main
force had retired beyond pursuit. We ha<l (piite a num-
ber of killed and wounded ; one poor boy, a bugler, 1 no-
ticed with more than common re<'ret as havincf received
his quietus that night. He had been a marvellous mimic
in his way, and had created more amusement for the
regiment than all the rest of our humorous talent put to-
gether. They called him " Banty," and many a drenched
and dreary bivouac had the exercise of his peculiar faculty
made to pass the more cheerily. This eventful morning,how-
ever, found him sittingup against a tree — I thought at first
he was asleep — the poor lad looked a;-; if he were only
tired of making fun, and had relapsed, as such characters
often do, into an uncommon fit of seriousness, but alas,
poor Banty ! a fiagment of shell had entered his brain,
and he was quite dead.
Apropos of casualties, T may mention, that it is erro-
neous to think, as some do, that the wounded and dying
in an engagement give vent to their misery in loud cries
130
KEVKKIKS OF AN OLD SMOKEH.
of nj^ony an«l snpplit'ation. When u man is liit, lie drops
— that is if badly Imrt— hut it is no ran* occunt'iKc that
a btroiij^ man will kvv\) Y\^\\t on loadif!-,^ and firing', al-
though severely wounded, and in Ins excitement not
even notice it, till he falls exhausted, — not from exertion,
as he thinks, hut from loss of hlood. The mortally
■wounded sink ri^ht (U)wn — saying not a word, and pass-
ing away without evincing nmeh if any pain. Bu^
Avhile in those liard cases, there is a kind ii"d mercifully
soothing sort of numhness, wl)ich makes the blow com-
])aratively easy to hear, tliere is a way of being hit, wliich,
while there is no particle of injury done, the eti'ect is
altogether most ))ainful and terrifying — 1 mean in the
case of a "spent ball" — and then it is not at all uncom-
mon to see the bravest men behave like children, an<l
set up a most ])itiful wail althougli the missile did not
even penetrate the skin, and was nothing v/orse than a
" stinger."
As regards iirst experience under tire, I believe the
sensations 1 have attempted to describe were not exclu-
sively applicable to my own case, but are felt to a greater
or less extent by all who participate, for the first time,
in that especially rough game of war, — and who, in
their fresh, blooming novitiate, find themselves situated
as I was, in that most trying of all predicaments in which
a soldier, though he be a veteran, can be placed, — that is,
inactive, within easy range of a well-served battery,
and right within the focus of a well-sustained artillery
fire of shot and shell, with now and then the spicy
FIRST KXrKlUENCE UNDEU FIKE.
131
ii()vt»lty «>t* a spriiikliiij^ of " shmpnel." In the onlinary
ttH'airs ot" life, we nu# unfie([uently [»a.ss thmu^'h einer-
gencieH of a iiioMt dangerous cliaraeter, hut uii<ler nuch
eircuiiistances that we reah/e hut a small fraction of the
l•i^sk involved. an<l, only mildly admonished, we are en-
abled to appear (piite inditierent ; or we may on occasions
of a senseless fright swell with tlie hravado of a falso
alarm, and humoring the solicitude of others to the full
extent, appreciate the <!anger ourselves only so far
as to appear comfortably heroic; and this, I believe,
is the commonest an«l, 1 have no <l()ubt, the most
poi)ular test of bravery. I do not flatter myself in
saying I ha<l always, up to the time I speak of, enjoyed
a full gift of nerve necessary to sustain me unflinchingly
in the ordeal of the somewhat hackneyed hut still nuich
applauded "hair-breadth escape," and on the strength
oi this reputation 1 am embohlened to a init, frankly, that
when under fire for the flrsttime,lying supinely on the ground
supporting that battery of ours, I was the prey of very grave
and troubled tlioughts. To be so near the belching mouths
of the enemy's cannon, as almost to feel the scorching
tire singe my hair, brought me in rather unhappy com-
munion with the spirit world, and instead of all the con-
vivial pleasantry of habitual companionship there seemed
surrounding those ponderous globes, as they sped shriek-
ing and spluttering on their death errand, a shadowy
group, which fancy clothed in all the uncongenial para-
phernalia appropiate to the occasion. It was playing foot-
ball with devils (that is what it seemed like to me), and
I
132
HKVKHIFX OF AN OLD hMOKF.R.
on tho very brink <»f that futhoniless abyss wIiohc lM)ttoni
is an internal niystoiy ' 1 only <)9iiw it niiMIy when I
Kay in my first buttle I was wantinj^ in th(> enthusiasm
necessary to make my sliare in the sport a success. Thc're
were certain restraining inHuenccs that kept nic, nnich
against my inclination, tolerably Hnn at my post, or I am
sure 1 could have run away — gone back ingloriously t«)
the roar — anywlwre, in fact, to get out of tlie way of that
"iron hail." Such a retreat, then, in<lee<l, seemetl eml>el-
lished with alltliose inettable charms incident to existence,
and I felt I could have reposed in such a goal, fully re-
warded for the absence of the bh)od stained laurels of war
in the undisturbed enjoyment of those other dearer em-
blems of peace !
Thus it is in imminent personal peril we realize most
vividly that the (ji'dtuhst poHtt'ion in (jlort/ is a little kiinj-
dom ivJiose monarch is JJeath ! itnd the meanest refuge in
security a gorgeous World, whose sovereign is Life ! !
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OUANITK AND ASKKS,
(»U flLKANINtJS FROM TIIK SKIM'LUIIUI-^S f)K CJIIKAT KNdl.lSlI
SToUY-TKIJ.KItS.
I.
IT was once my ^ood fortune, to sojourn a sliort time in
the South of Ireland. In tlie midst of tluit charm-
inj^ scenery which has j^iven to Erin the characteri.stic
title of Emerald arc end)osomed those fairy lakes of
Killarney. As I sat musing by the sliore, one l>eautifid
moonlit evenin|^, there came stealing over the lily-capped
waters that exquisite strain of melody from Balfe, — " Then
You'll Remend>er M(^" I t^ok the music somewhat t<5
heart, and the turn then and there given to a train of
naturally sentimental reflection, gave rise to this essay.
In our twilight communings with the spirit, there comes
up at times a mute but pathetic appeal from the "Hesh,"
and tlie «piery, how shall we I>e remembered, how soon
forgotten, finds its expression and answer in a sigh ; the
though itself is one shade nearer the nightfall, and ob-
tiuding its sond>re visage like a spectre, cjists a shadowover
the gladness of life's earlier, brighter dreau). 'Tis then
we shrink from the contemplation of our phantom future,
13G
RKVEIUES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
I '<
III
and turning to tlie more gonial and iiiHtructive survey of
others, and wliat they have done to he remembered, wo
regard with eager interest the impress thoy liave left of
earthly ties.
These reflections, commingling with kindred observa-
tions, have led to thofollowing imperfect sketch and to sucli
a grouping of ideas j^s were suggostcil by the refrain of
that sweet old song, and by the conjunction of two sig-
nificant words — Granite and Ashes.
There is about that cruel word oblivion, an import .'o
dreadful, that, although we do not realize it, the very
thought of it may well make the alnxle of the danuiod,
seem, in contradistinction, an asylum if not so agi'eeable and
satisfying as the poet's dream of Paradise, at lea;:>t a most ac-
ceptable substitute; and even a condition of pain hereaftoi-,
notwithstanding all that is said against it, might then
a{)poar an ox(piisite and grateful relief taken in connec-
tion with the boon of restore<l life, without which we
could not sufier ; and tenacious as we are of existence,
such an issue of .all our hopes and prayers, untoward as
it may seem, may, nevertheless, gladden out hearts, ns
when some loved one, crushed and maimed, is arous( d
from a death-like insensibility, and opens his eyes ai;d
moans.
As in our thoughts of aftor-life, so in this do the humble
as well as the great naturally aspire to oppose as much
as possible such an all-devouring blight as would lap up
and swallow every trace of their bodily existence; and in
this trying emergency we are indebted to the handicraft
fJRANtTK ANT) ASHKS.
137
of two roprosontative fellow-beings, both of whom co-
operate in succouiing wluit would otlierwise perish for-
ever away — I refer to the conservatism of Art, as demon-
strated in the sublime labors of two of Nature's gi-eatest
admirers, and man's most earnest workers — the juiliiter
and the 8culj>tor. We point to a portrait by Vandyke,
and the form and features of Charles T., who has heen
dead over two hundred years, look down \ipon us in
the fresh prime of life and in the lusty zenith of liKs ro-
bust health and manly beauty ! So, too, in the lapso of
three centennials from to-day, as the posterity of the
patriots of Bunker Hill gather together on Boston Com-
mon, to celebrate the birtli of liberty on the American
continent, they will look upon a life-like statue in their
inidst, and hail in pride and admiraticm the imperishable
imaire of Washinjjton.
The products of great masters in Art, these likenesses
may have cost nmch of the nation's treasure to secure ; but
in tlie case of the "sovereign" George, as we, the loving
children of the " father of his country," take the true
impress of his noble lineaments to our hearts, who can
find it in his n)ind to say, the price was too high ; and
as for the monarch Charles, what a puny recompense in
exchange for even this species of perpetuated mortality,
the fleeting trinket of royalty, — the dissolving bagatelle
of kingdom. ^; l.
While we may not all have nor expect a splendid
memorial, — which, as a work of art, may survive to the
latest generations, — nevertheless, though shorn of all the
-i
III
138
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
I
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costly splendor that enriches the more princely mauso-
leum, ther" is a cjuality inherent in the record of the
simplest .ife, and commingling- with tli<' humblest dust,
even sublimer and more effective ; — it Is that element of
memory which, clingin*,' to dee<ls, sutfiees in the pro-
longation of existence to enable one's virtues to outlive
liis faults.
To " let the dead bury their dead" was all very well in
primitive times and in the days of lepros}-, when to bury a
man out of sight, to forgive him for ha.ving lived, and to for-
get him was the last best service the living could perform ;
but it seems to me, things have changed somewhat since
such an interpretation of that injunction obtained. There
are many, and among them our best men, who require to
be long dead to be known and appreciated. — Moreover,
for centuries, Enterprise has identified those rare intellects
so closely with Progress, that the short time allotted our
great men to live amongst us is found too short, an<l the
influence they may still exert, too powerful and abiding,
to " let the dciad bury their dead" — so we hand down their
effigy and their example from generation to generation.
While the masses, and among them many good men,
seem destined to sink from obscurity into oblivion, others
there are who never die, and in this sense are never buried ;
they {ire become identified, it may be, with some project,
the grave seems but one stage of the work, and death, in
its application, like sleep, only to supply a defect in our
organization requiring rest; that is all, — and after the pause
twixt sunset and sunrise, the work goes on with the same
GRANITE AND ASHES.
139
inaHtcr ininds seemingly alive and animating. Thus great
and needful undertakings are carried on over a space of
successive lives to completion ; consecutive generations,
in the spirit, have hold of the rope like sailora, — with hero
and there a voice, a living voice, to give the word — and
they pull, those phantoms, and heave together till the sails,
catching and filling with the cumulative impulse of the
wafting breeze, the great social ship of human affairs,
cleaves onward !
Here, we may observe, in qualification of the above,
there is a certain conceit strutting abroad, and ap-
propriating much of the credit that ought to be shared
in common with those who are no more. This age,
particularly in the new world, is become egotistical
in the extreme, and it is simply erroneous to attribute
to it, alone, the advancement we see at this time. The
works, or at least the principles upon which they were
wrought, were planned and put in operation long before
the unfurling of our " starry banner," — long, indeed, before
the "Jack" of England had suggested the economy of union,
— aye, when the seed of our national greatness was in em-
hryo, and when the great-great grandfather of our Frank-
lin was a skittish boy, the philosophy«of our republican
institutions had been chewing its cud for over two thou-
sand years, and in moral and political isolation «and dis-
use, had grown old, and stale, and obsolete.
II. ' ^:-:--^— •---■'
The case of our grand Republic, in the above connec-
tion, reminds one of the apprentice who, stealing the ideas
-If
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uo
IIKVKIUES OF AN OLD SMOKEll.
and (le.signs of the master, and absconding, sets up shop
on his own account, ignoring altogc^tlier the old firm, and
the tuttdago of generations ac([uired in motlier land. In
this manner there is engendered a feeling of contempt
for the past, its wisdom an<l counsels, such as one gets to
feel for preceptors an«l old men. VW' may notice fur-
ther, that among communities and nations, there is
a tendency as strong as human selHshness, not simply to
utilize results, but to claim at the same time a monopoly
of the credit in the means by which these rcvsults have
been obtained; of course, in the same ratio as we belittle th«'
achievements of those who are gone by, do we aggi'andize
our own efforts; and thus, is the principal glory and
applause, appropriated and enjoyed by modern apostles
and contemporaries.
The history of invention and improvement, not only
in mechanical industry, but also in state policy, is pro-
lific in trial and persecution, — in obloquy and repudi-
ation, — toward the early pioneers of modeun triumph ;
and with no feeling of sympathy, and still less esteem
and gratitude for those noble hearts and great in-
tellects, that, in a long weary struggle expired on the
threshold and in the very shock and awe of prodigious
discovery, — we eulogize and aggrandize those who, in the
robust impetuosity of juniois, come bustling later in upon
the scene. And so, in the predisposition to patronize what
is contemporary, the productions of our generation, like
fruits in season, commend themselves in preference to
what we are most prone to regard as the fossil deposits
GRANITE AND ASHES.
141
of anticjuity. Hence, I reiterate, that notwithstanding
an affected admiration for " old nianters," the tendency,
as I have noticed, h strongly to iujnore, if not to ohltMjuize
men who lived lonix a<'o, and whose works are remem-
hered only to be contrasted with tlie so-called superior
attainments of our day. In some respects, this dis-
crepancy may Ik> justified. If we take, for example,
Literature, — that nn<,dity medium tlirough which we are
t'uabled to communicate with the dead world, and to ol -
tain, as we think, a correct knowledge of the past — hen*,
tlie ont</ron'fh, not so much of ideas and t)rinciple.s as
of their (.rpyesstoD^iiud the peculiar maniiol* of tlujir con-
veyance, necessitates, for the convenience of our under-
standing, new works. It must be admitted that no-
thing in the light of wisdom can be, or has been, added
to the philosophy of Socrates, the logic of Aristotle, or
the metaphysics of Plato, to make them more com-
plete, but we have so far outlived their language an<l
times, that the subjects on which they treated in a
manner never since equalled, much less surpassed, have
afforded material to immortalize a host of successors,
who, had they lived in those olden times, had possibly
never been known, r v
It is not so nmch, indeed, the great flood of original
light shed in modern times, as the obscuration of old
ideas and expression through lapse of time ; and thus,
in the tendency of all records to outlive their true mean-
ing, it comes about, that in the more modern recast
of old time thought, " savants," (I mean by them, delvers
142
REViailliS OF AN OLD SAlOKKU.
i >
i
■ '
into the murky mysteries of the recondite), and from
them that imposing plialanx of the mechanically ilhi-
niinpted, (I mean those tutored parrots we esteem as
our " e<hicate<i," our " professional," and our '* public
men"), are enabled to substitute themselves and take,
in a manner, undisputed precedence over their prede-
cessors, and in our better understanding^ of their fresh,
living phraseology we gratefully accord some of them,
at least, the partial virtue of " new-light."
Here, too, we may note in iK'half of the living, that
the virtues of a few of the defunct set have grown ab-
normally witti age, and through the medium of reite-
rated praise, have attained for imlividuals an atmos-
phere of glory, that owes much of its hallowed splendor
to a glamour of purely extraneous fancy. Then, it is the
n'unb as with which imagination encircles objects that are
too remote for " ocular demonstration." Practically, how-
ever, taking men of note in literature, standing succes-
sively each behind the other, and reaching from a late,
back into an early period, we tind those comparatively in
front, enjoy the largest patronage. But this, as we have
noted, is because there is hardly a train of thought, the
latest expression of which does not appeal the most
strongly to our sympathies ; and yet, the great wealth of
wisdom on which they draw, is the brains of past genera-
tions — and a comparison of epochs, and a glance into the
great silent world of the obsolete, reveal the fact that
the literary spawn of the nineteenth century, like the
designs of that prolific goddess Fashion, — and the plethora
OKANITE AND ASHI-IS.
143
of books strivin*^ to keep pace with the newspapers, ami
shed with tlie fecundity of Hy-blows on raw meat, are,
for the most part, ordy a clever modification of old ideas
recut, and turned, and dressed up to suit new an<l later
styles of thou^'ht and expression. And to the commendable
L'rtbrts which have been made to simply emancipate some
of tliese from antiquated prejudice, and to the compara-
tively humiliating process of remodelling' others, do many
of our " distin<^niis]»ed men of letters," to-day, owe their
envied and much lauded reputations. And the ignorant
and thoughtless call these men great, and the age in
which they live mighty, and bow down and worshi[)
them; but, however nnich aptitude and Dven talent, wo
may see displayed, it is, after all, in its most ancient and.
honorable aspect, only such astnte old politicians as
Lycurgus, and Solon, transmitting with the stamp of
their individuality tlie lessons of still earlier civiliza-
tions, — and later, true to the classic exam[)le of Xenophon
fathering the scriptless wisdoiu of Socrates, we have
tlie venerable More, manufacturing " Utopia" out of
the "Republic" of Plato, — Chaucer revelling in the alien
wealth of Boccaccio, — Spenser blowing the sparks that
light his imagery from the ashes of Ariosto, — Luther ful-
minating the train laid by Wyclitle, — aye, and V^espueius
filching immortality from the story of Columbus ! !
In this manner do the works if not the teaching's of
the old set become, at least so far as the generality of
people are concerned, obsolete, obliterated, forgotten, —
the palm of originality is passed along and enjoyed as
144
KEVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKU.
I*
spolla opima of lator ♦^n-nemtions of men, an<l li^'nce it is
HO many of our <,nanite memorials apply only to present
times, new mem, nnd fresh triumphs.
The reason for the order of merit being in a man-
ner successive and largely exclusive, is in the out-
growth before mentioned ; and this is regulated, not
merely by fancy, but by the itnmutable law of change.
Everything is in a state of restless, tireless transition.—
Words, idioms, vernaculars are changing, — an<l language,
in which is e!id)almed our knowledge of events and charac-
acter, in its variable meaninrjs and chameleon-like ways,
presjMits all the puzzling shifts of the kaleidosco]»e.
Impressions and chronicles of past occurrences, presented
and imbibed in our younger days as sober, historic fact,
we are assured by the same kind of unimpeachable autho-
rity, were but the offspring of fancy, a misrepresentation of
truth, and perniciously false. — Opinions that obtained a
century, a year, a month, an hour ago, are turned and
twisted out of all semblance to the original, and this even
on the very same statement of facts. — No two events ever
did or ever can occur under exactly the same conditions,
and those stereotyped fornmlas applicable to one case, can
only be approximately so to others, and are made available
by modification and change. — An outgrowth of fealty is
engendered, and insensibly but irresistibly we attorn from
the old seed to the new fruit; but so gradually does the
metamorphosis steal over us, we think we are cleaving to
the one when we are conceiving and maturing the other.
. — Much of what we wore wont to hold sacred, is become
5 f
OHANtTE AND AHHES«
145
apocryphal and ahsurd, and forms onco reverenced with
jealous devotion, are come to be regarded only a.s custonts
or idle spectacles ; atid, as in the case of the early drama,
ceremonies, comniemonitive of reli^^dous events ami mado
the objects of pious observance, have de<^enerat«:d, — as did
the Saturnaliii of ancient, and 1 think I mav add also, a.s
has the Christmas of m<jdei-n times. — Enterprise, Ueform,
in all the sturdy gree<l of their lustful impulses, are oppo-
iiig Conservatism, demanding ehange, and in order to
build new structures, deplete old ones.— Progress, Utility
oppose duration, because improvement necessitates substi-
tution and involves annihilation ; a thing may be a wel-
come novelty to-(lay, and stand forth as the perfection of
a wonderful revelation, to-morrow, it is se*t aside for a
more acceptable substitute. Nay, however precious a
thing may be, so long as avarice is a ruling passion, the
lasting pro|»erties of any structure is measured in a great,
degree by the magnitude of the temptation to destroy
and is apportioned to the value of the material. — Nature
yields, but recuperates ; Art, however, in the monuments
of anticpiity, has so far succumbed to this tlaw in human
kind, that all Greece could do in that way to preserve,
availed naught, at least, when she left the impress of her
incomparable genius, on any substance more precious than
clay or stone. Our laws are changing, and the completest
code ever devised by the wisdom of man falls as far short
as did the triumphs of Justinian; and renewea legislation
becomes a constant want, an ever-appealing necessity.—
Our hearts, our loves are changing, and if not so ostensibl^i
J
-ni
liO
KEVERItlS OF AS OLD SMOKKR.
'
■ T
I
t ■
m
■ r
1;
none the lesH Hurely, those granite harriers that ^'inl
our coasts, and witli whicli we seek to j>erpetuate our
memories, are dissolving, erumhling, changing. The idols
and temples, religions and creeds pertaining to our capri-
cious worship, form no exception to the omniscient rule ;
and the idea that those most invulnerahle hulwarks of*
faith, — tlu'Bihles of nations, — can remain any considerable
time \maltered and unrevised, is as impossible and un-
natural as for tlie rocks to resist the potent and salutary
influences by which we have acquired the fertile strata of
our soil and the means necessary to supply existence.
Though we may not preserve the past in all its living
integrity, we may now and then reflect sorrowfully, grate-
fully over the few disfigured landmarks of a once strug-
gling, loving, perishing people, — and as we call the roll of
honored dead, accord their heroes at least a portion of
that coveted tribute of remembrance, which we, in our
turn, Would fain solicit of posterity.
There is a potent spirit prevailing over the minds
of men ; all are the humble instruments of the All-
wise Designer of the universe, but in the progress of
the great work we call civilization, it has been (and
is) the good fortune of some to liave become indivi-
dually and conspicuously identified, and although it
may have been only in the beginning, they are not to
be despised because they labored without the easy sys-
tems, and ingenious appliances, that grace and propitiate
our efforts. So, Nuina, in establishing the religious and
civil laws of Rome, deserves an even greater glc y thanCon-
GRANITE AM) ASIIFX*
147
Htantine, who inerel}" atKxcd his aii^^iist Higiuiture to the
remodelled works of his |)re<lecei*sors ; so, too, Artaxerxes
may claim, in the task of evanrroHcal rcfonn, a goodly
share witli Theodosids. Zoroaster with Confucius, and
Mahomet with Krasmus ; hut whih' no one of these may
claim at once, tlie hi;^'h distinction and exclusive credit,
of interpreting and executing the Divint^ will, neverthe-
less we may presume that each and all, together with the
humhlest of their followers, in their own time and way,
performed their allotted stint ; and could we read aright,
we should fiml the reconl of their faithful service on such
memorials as the Sanscrit, the Zenda- Vesta, the Talmud
the Koi-an.
III.
While the monuments of a nation'.s dead, may be re-
garded in some degree as an index to its glory, they are
not always a true exponent of merit, and rarely an exclu-
sive tribute to the man ; on the contraiy, it is, in the case of
many of our finest, a distinctive idea breathed through them
that is aggi-andized. Speaking as a cosmopolitan I may,
say: — there is in that towering shaft i eared toO'Connell,
a species of Hibernian spunk and a granite and enduring
defiance of England — it typifies the spirit of Irish intoler-
ance, rising in its power and majesty to repel British ag-
gression, — and yet every stone used in that magnificent
memorial might be engraved with a different name, and
then many a patriot leader treasured in the Irish heart,
but whose sentiments find significant expression in this
iiij
m
vu
-ill
1
us
UKVBUIKS oK an old SMoKKn.
mlent bulwark , wouM be U;ft out. O'Conncll, ns u par-
tisan, iaonoi>olize.s tlie whole edifice, but mi a lunn, a
Hingle solitary l)riek wouM suttice. Journeying towani
the metropolis of England, looking towards liOixlon, on<>
sees through a vista of liaze and siiiioke the griui outline
of a giant form looming in tlic clouds ! Tis the hero of
the Nile ! But here again it is not Hritish love for Nel-
son,- he was not a man cither to love or to be loved, — it
is, rather, Britannia, claiming for England the empire of
the wave, — an<l Jiritish bulldogjsm, saying to the outer
world and to posterity,— RKM EM BKR TKAFAUUK:
English (conservatism may form a commenda}>le excep-
tion to the rule, but it 's sad to note in other countries that
even these granite columns are, after all, but the transient
commemoration of a Hckle triumph: indeed, mere per-
sonal renown althou'di identified with national airman-
dizcment, will not suffice to counteract the withering blast
with which Time and Passion sweep down as with the
" besom of destruction " our fairest Bab^ Ions.
In the rapid mu.ch of events, other Waterloos, other Tra-
falgars will be fought, and while new triumphs and new
defeats will change the whole order of hero-wo»*ship, those
names now blazoned over, like the "N " on the Louvre, with
a nation's pride, will be erased, despised,' forgotten, — or
survive, perchance, only in the musty records of faded
leaves.
After all, what is renown ? It is the accident of ability
and opportunity combining to make a man conspicuous for
the successful performance of some extraordinary under*
iJRANITK AND ASHI-US.
149
takinjx, tti»<l tlmt n'jj^anlk-.ss of motive. \yv, I ut tlit' true
pvatiu'KH of iiiiy <l»'e(', ho far as i\w. author is coiicerne<l, is
the motive tlyit iiispiicMl it, .so far as the world in con-
c<'rne(1, however, it is only the advantage it confefH. In
the former case, of all actions, the nohlest are unselHsh
and disinterested, and they are the rarest and most ol»-
seiire — they may win friends, hut <lo not necessarily confer
either profit or distinction. Accordin^^ly, a man may Ik)
a profitless failure hefore all the world, and at the same
time po8se.ss a character and inanl)oo<l which, although
Hhut out from the laurel tield, would entitle him to the
hi«^hest rank in the uidionored le<(ion of nameless and un-
(h'corate<l heroes. It follows, the humhie may envy the
great, hut they nee<l not always feel humiliated in ohscu-
rity. So, too, amongst all the monuments of men, th(5
Hiniplcst are those of i\\w worth and affection, and they
are tlie deaivst an<l best.
In looking hack over the pa.st, we find the greatest
men have no monuments at all, and the landmarks
by which we trace their existence, are their works.
Some, indeed, have been denied even the menial rights
of decent burial, and have done without the temporal Ixxjii
of a grave ; but the atrocious meanness that would have
consigned their memory to oppnjbrium, has, nevertheless,
defeated its object. And here we are rennnde<l that the
most striking, if not the grandest memorial in England, is
a certain, simple tomb, situate in an obscure comer of ohl
Westminster : — there, in close proximity to the finest of
all the mausoleums of English kings, despoiled of its
r'i..
I'l
! I
I
4'
'
^i!
- )]
i
A
iJi*
150
RFA'ERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
lunnan dust, ex}ii}>ite«l as a curiosity, the vacant sepulchre
of Oliver Cromwell remains a rej)roach to his countrymen ;
but as we regard the roughly tum])led e^rth whence a
regal envy extracted his mortal relics, we are reminded
of the apostroplu! wrung from the heart of a great Roman
general,* — " Ungrateful city, ye shall not even have my
ashes ! "
In proportion as a man's works contribute to the happi-
ness of a people is he likely to be remembered. O'Connell
may have done much to give tone and character to Iriyh
I)olitics, and if so, the world ought to feel thankful, and es-
pecially Ireland. We must all honor his patriotism, but if
we find it difiieult to see, individually, wherein this great
politician has contributed to our welfare, how much more
discouraging the effort to eke out comfort and felicity
from the smoke and carnage of Trafalgar or Balaklava —
ah, what a joyous ]>ie-nic ground in retrospect, the bloody
deck of the " Victory," or the gory trail of the doomed " six
hundred " ! Nay, I protest that is not the sort of faii^e
either to covet or endure — it is too sectional to last or to
merit approbation — it is the triumph of antagonism, that
savage exultation which makes aliens of countrymen —
that conflict amongst brothers which makes mothers
mourn and sisters weep ; it may win a throne, — 'tis a
joyless trophy, and the enjoyment, such as might be ex-
pected in the isolation of a splendid triumph wrought in
competition with mankind.
Scijjio Africanus,
I
GRANITE AND ASHES.
lol
There is no satisfaction in the contemplation of life,
or after-life, from those dixzy heights to which popular cla-
mor has raised,i7i memorunn, the eftigies of men, — elevate 1
as they have been, more in the lust of party aggrandizement,
than as a personal tribute of love or respect. There is no
kindliness, no tender sentiment, commemorated ; and one
feels a relief in getting down from those snow-clad sum-
mits where the eagles perch, to the sweet smellir aks
of the violet and the cuckoo. Aye, how much mc e g^t \ial
those grassy glades of Stoke,— the grazing herds, — and
that humble mound beneath " that yew tree's shade," — •
cherished memorials of the "Elegy " and of Gray.
There are works boundless in their humanity as love,
ever-green in their beauty a« affection, and precious in
our need as the happiness they inspire ; there is a sub-
limity in the attainment of such results, — they shall not
perish, we cherish them, and the author lives amongst
us, and with our children, and remains for ever the friend
and brother of mankind !
Dearer to us and to Ireland, is her Tom Moore, who
gave to the world those triumphs of pathos which touched
a chord that shall vibrate for all time, in every land, in
every heart ! Worthy compeer of Shakespeare, and Han-
del, and Burns, and Byron, I greet thee in the names of
millions who would do thee homage ! Such men are not
the mere chieftains and champions of a division, or sect, —
their language, their deeds, inspire naught but the kindli-
n
'■'.m
"Mi
■f
I^
i'
H
K
a "<
M
fi'
li
ui
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152
HKVEniES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
est emotionH, which, under the potent spell of melody,
pioclaini a welcome truce to discord, ami bring all within
the great universal brotherhood of mutual dependence
and sympathy.
Regarding the labours of these men, we may re-
mark, — there nnist be a great deal that is fictitious in
Romance and Poetry, but while they people our minds
with the names of many who never lived, and whose
adventures and troubles are purely imaginary, yet they
are not all false, and to be condemned for all that. They
are fictitious, in the main, only in proportionas they are not
in accord with sucli vicissitudes as would be possible to hap •
})en us if similarly situated. Many things about them aie
liighly idealized, no doubt,may be extravagantly so,butthey
are all the more charniing an<l interesting as a welcome and
instructive diversion, and quite as rational, too, at least,
many of them, as that confidence in perfect love or
friendship, which, though it may not exist in all the rigid
exactness of a demonstration, and fact, an<l proof, might
undeceive us, still it gives us pleasure, and we feel bet-
ter to cling to the delusion, while the truth would make
us miserable. 80 like words in song, they blend with the
nmsic of our better thoughts, and harmonize our impulses.
Ah, who could find it in his heart to say, 1 would I had
never read "Tales of a Cir rand father," the *' Vicar of Wake-
field," or the "Arabian Nights." But it is said that they unfit
ns for the sterner realities of life, — well, when these reali-
ties oppress us, as they are sure to do, do not these old
friends solace us ? They may not exalt, although I think
GRANITE AND ASH1<:S.
153
they do, still how gently, how cheerily, do we welcome
them Iti our restful hours, and with what gratofiil fancies,
and even softer minstrelsy, do they accompany us down
into the " valley and shadow." Surrounded as we are by
so much outside afl'cctation and deceit, where shall we find
a truer or more natural impulsi' than that which claims
j^enial fellowship with " Tarn o' Shanter," " Robinsim Cru-
soe," or"KipVanWiiikle." Andthe minds and hearts whose
creative power they are the offspring, how kindly, how
lovingly we have thought of them ; how many specta-
cled men of science, ifideed, and blue-visaged historians
must it take to rival, in our young hearts, just one name
— Defoe — or that other nameless one who tells with such
pathetic humor the story of Sinbad.
V.
>-■ \^ry
Nay, then, are the shrines of some of these old com-
])anions worthy a pilgrimage ? In the course of a some-
what wandering and not uneventful career, I have come
across the marble and ashes of a goodly number of these
men, and the interest with which I have always regarde*!
them, has in no stinted measure recompensed me for the
privation and sacrifice which the old adage visits with
such exceptionless rigor on the " rolling stone."
In exploringthe remarkable burial-places of the old world,
and especially those of our English fatherland, we are led
thither by that peculiar charm inspired in our reading of
the careers of great men, — warriors, statesmen, and authors,
of whom we have heard and thought so much, — heroes all,
5 M »
TSM
...I
154
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
' 'n
mm '
i!
fl 1 1
whose story has excited our admiration, sympathy, and in-
terest, and whose lives history, biography, and romance,
have made us feel as familiar with as if we had lived in
their day, known them personally and enjoyed in their
society the rare ])rivilege of intimate companionship.
It is not mere idle curiosity, then, that impels us forward
almost reluctantly, as it were, in the solemn quest of their
last earthly resting-place; nay, it may be the only tangible
relic of an existence endeared to us by the benefit and
happiness its works have conferred, and the feeling with
which we would regard the hallowed precinct, partakes
rather of that kindliness and emotion which is stirred up
only in the recollection of things we have loved.
It must be confessed, however, in the commemoration
of those, or many of them, who have planted amongst us
the genns of so prolific a harvest of moral and intellec-
tual enjoyment, ashes which should have beon garnered up
and treasured in proud and grateful remembrance, seem, on
the contrary, not only miserably neglected, but, in many
cases, altogether abandoned ; and if we follow the trail of
the most illustroius foot-piints, we find, not un frequently,
they lead out of the broad, splendid avenues of life, of for-
tune, and of fame, to terminate in the gloomy, dreary laby-
rinths of death and deprivation, where we behold, hidden
away in tangled weed and wild-wood, the poor, discarded
rubbish of our once choicest mortality !
This would seem a dreadful shame, and may be it is, but
there is a peculiar significance even in the all too appar-
ent absence of any effort to hedge them in and nationalize
GRANITE AND ASHES.
15.")
tluMii ; indeed, tlie fact conveys of itself a tribute which
l.t'speaks, not merely a nation's pride of relationship, but
what is better, — it implies a kinship to the world, and such
a brotherhood with all mankind as to preclude, as belittling,
all exclusive national control or distinction. The obli«,'a-
tion entailed, we tacitly feel, rests alike upon the whole
race of man, and the absence of all local signs of sepul-
chral aggrandizement, only indicates that what is nobijdy's
work in particular, is all the world's, and what all the
world may not perform is left undone.
If you will imagine yourself in England, for a. short
time, I will take you to see for yourself; and making
London the starting point, some of ,the objects we have
been speaking about may be found within the reach of an
easy stroll. But whither away ? Well, it is not to that
magnificent cenotaph in Hyde Park, I would lead you, —
that is not a monument in the sense I mean, but rather a
• luestionable work of art, reared in family })ride and connui-
bial affliction, and dedicated in ineniorima, to a prince
whose quiet virtues and unobtrusive accomplishments, it
uut-dazzles and obscures, — leaving, indeed, the artist the
greater hero of the two.
In passing this tribute of royalty, however, I am re-
minded by the contrast, of one less princely I saw at
Melrose, in Scotland. In the ruins of the divine old
abbey there, one sees a bit of earth that may once have
been a mound, but now it is settled down aud is hardly
distinguishable from the ground around. I do not know
what there can be to keej) us froin walking right over it,
" '*,
^
156
RKVfcRIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
but some way we do hesitate to plant our foot on that
particular spot, ami at a second glance we notice a plain,
pine stick with a piece across, together, not much larger
than, nor unlike the symbol worn at the girdle of a
monkish devotee ; but what is that bit <»f writing, — is it
worth while looking i We stoop down in the impulse of
careless curiosity, and give a great start, — then look again
rnon; eagerly and closely to make sure, and feel a thrill as
if the iron gauntlet of a Plantagenet, or a Wallace, liad
been laid upon our shoulder — would 3'ou wonder, for there
we read—*' Here Lies the Heart of Bruce!"
VI.
In an expedition like that we propose, one cannot hel[>
inclining towards Westminster Abbe}'^, andnov/,the temp-
tation is strong, to make this our destination; we shall at
least pass through, as it is directly on our way, and there,
moving reverently along the dim aisle leading past that
magnetic cornerconsecrated to the Poets, we pause a moment
to look wistfully at a few well-remend)ered faces. — All,
they almost incline us to curtail our walk, and one fain
would sidle off on the sly and abandon the ])roject of going
further. Many is the time before this, I have lingered
there, and as I've looked around on that silent company
of the world's and my precious idols, it has ever been with
hopeless longing, yet yearning desire that I might recall
the life, and breath, and smile, to those marble effigies,
and, claiming the privilege of membership in the great
common brotherhood of man, embrace them in the flesh !
OKANITE AND ASHCS.
15:
These fellows take one's heart away, — and how can wo
cany a sinj^le tribute of our puny store pjist them. —
Wordsworth, Pope, Young, Southey, and a liost of
others ! They cannot speak, and yet each recalls some
])athetic line, some verse, or thou^'ht, that at some time
lias <^iv'jn expression to feelinfrs that even we had no
laii<j^ua^'e to utter ; but verily we feel we shall get melan-
choly if we stay much longer, a!id suppressing a sigli, we,
in the effort to rally our (hooping spirits, aie almost dis-
]t(>sed to play a joke on Shrridan, - pounce upon him and
<lun him for a little bill, but are diverted by a glance at
the benign features of " Oh rare Ben. Jons«>n, " and afraid
to trust ourselves further, l)reak from the spot and hurry
on our way.
Suffice it then for tlie abbey, on this occrasion to a<ld : — -
as we cast a p.arting glance over its mural wealth of
kingly entablature so grandl}' arrayed, there seems about
it all a sj)ecies of knighthood, that makes this superb
congregation of voiceless, lifeless nobility, appear a veri-
tal)le House of Lords, — a Peerage, to which a sover-
eign intellect raises the great commoner after death.
Great men and good we find here, and they seem in their
proper place — a nation's pride can do no more; but it is not
here lies the object of our quest — it is all too grand,
tlie atmosphen; too courtly, and the frigid air too much
like the liigh latitudes of Phu'uix Park, and Trafalgar
Square.
VII. , ■; '■-
Taking the direction past Whitehall, we soon find our-
selves in the Strand, and later leave any of the incensQ
ji
4 i
! 6 -.if!
158
llEVEKIES OF AN <iLD SMoKEtt.
of the ab}x»y that may yet cling alnjut us, in the still more
odorous regions of Long Acre, nnd High Holborn.
Yet stay ! we are forgetting an old friend — we must not
slight /lim, so we get back into the Strand, again, by way
of Drury I^ane, and proceed along to Temple Bar. Here
we turn down a narrow alley to the right, where we find
all at once, like AH Baba, we have plumped almost invo-
luntarily, not into a den of thieves, but into a hardly
less sinister looking locality, whose shabby antiijuatcd
rookeries, intersected in all directions by stealthy, hid**-
and-seek [)assages, are known to the initiated as tlie old
English " Inns of Court." This place may be regarded
as John Bull's anticjue conception of a judicial para-
dise. But what is there pertaining to our project to inter-
est us here ? it does lo<jk more like the tomb, than the cradle,
of English Common Law, really, and here probably lies,
pigeon-holed, centuries of mouldering material for a res-
urrection in Chancery. But stop ! <lo you see that gray old
edifice,round like a cheese box (* that is tlie "Temple," — it is
famous as an ecclesiastical resort in the time of the Crusa-
ders, and people attend there now, on Sabbath days, to wor-
ship its antiquity, but it is not to that I wish to call your
attention — look closely over there to the left into that
opening between the walls, — do you not see a plain rough
st(me, raised a little above the other flag/5, but with no
other protection from the hurry and scurry of busy feet ?
That, my friend, is a grave and within it lies all that
remains of a Prince of English literature, — the author of
The Vicar of Wakefield." *
* Oliver Goldsmith.
ORANITK AND ASHKS.
159
It would seem as if the oKl iimii lm»l »,'one to the cliurch
with a half yearning dcHire to go in, hut had paused just
outside and hesitated as if in childish perplexity to think
it over, — then, reclining his fecMe old frame t<j rest a bit,
was soon lying ]»rone, — and soothe«l, j)erchance hy some
soft strain from the choir within, a grateful drowse had
stolen over his harasse<l spirit an<l he slept !
One fain would think it was rather a feeling of rever-
ence and tenderness not to disturb the ohi man that tliey
let him lie just where he was. — Ah, we reHect sorrowfully
over the maijnificent intellect extiniruisluMl there and of
that still greater heart — always oscillating, yet ever true
as the pendulum, — loving all the worM, yet forgetting to
care fur self — at once the most useful and noblest of men,
and the least frugal and most worthless of vagabonds —
prodigal in giving pleasure, and yet denied one happy hour !
As we turn from the spot, would that the slab and sod that
cover him now, were changed for a mantle which like our
memory of him might be as the grassy verdure of never
failing gi-een — not forgetting a sprinkling of violets, and
daisies, and loving hands to tuck him in.
VIII.
It is not without reluctance after all, we leave the Tem-
ple and its vicinity, replete as they are with interesting
reminiscences ; but we have a pretty long walk before us,
so turning away we retrace our steps in tlie direction of
High Holborn. In the interval of meditation, our thoughts
ily back again towards the abbey to mark a contrast, but
Mi.
J ,
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Hi
i
IGO
UEVEUIES OK AN OLD SMOKER.
-S
our destination is another part of London — not the su-
perb (juarter, basking in the opuk'nt sj)l»'nd<»r of loyal
patronage, hedged roun<l by cbic-d niunsions, si i(( ly par-
liaments, regal palaci's, -but a !nean, sluibi»y, filthy part,
so easy to Hn<l and so hanl to Ios»> as some of tin* infcrito'
localities of London are, where instead of the othor ac-
cessories of grandeur, we find breweries, woap fa( torics
and smoking furnaces, all betokening the sweat and toil
of active physical industry.
It is in such a vicinity, we next find ourselves trudging
along a not very inviting tboionghfan* called "City lioad."
That name soun<ls rural-like, as in the ea^e of St. (iiles
Fields, luit it is deceptive, like the " Heathen ( Innee," ami
odors, that powerful' v remind one of the absence of clover
fields, offend the nowtrils at every step, and the eye appeals
wistfully, yet ho)>elessly. to tliose begrimed, unwelcoming
walls, those close packed dwellings ind slimy pavements.
It is not so bad as \Va|)ping, but one must needs be a re-
sident to distinguish the difference ; however, it is a satis-
faction to perceive from the surroundings we are near the
end of our journey.
London, is an exception, as regards the monotony one
would otheiwise feel in wanderiui": through those end-
less, narrow grooves called streets; and the more w^e
know of its dingy habitations, the more agreeably are we
impressed with the fact that nearly every one of them has
a history, or story, connected with it, really worthy of
record ; many of these being intimately associated with
persons and events that have played an i'liportant part
taiANti'K AND XSUKS.
1(U
on the worM'.s gi at sbi^^u, and lent to the innM>sin«»(lmnia
of the pjist, its (lelicioUMfiind of inexpUoahlf niyHtei y and
tra^'ic interest. An instance could be cited of this or that
place, which we have already pa.ssed on our way hither, that
wouM \Hi as entertaining ;in<l instructive, perhaps, as c( dd
\\€> f( ind in any simil.ir field of exploration ; indeed, place's
you would ignorantly go by without noticing,you would, if
you onlyknew, retraceyoui- steps furmiles. to c<itch another
glimpse of ; the one? to wliich we arc bound, bring, in its
way, a fair illustration of this, ^
But here we are at our d^^stinafion. A sr)mbre, vacant
space two or tlirec acres in extent, meets the eye on the
left ; an uninviting looking spot it is, too, jagged over
with rough, stone slabs packed close together — all old
and out of fashion but still on duty, holding with sturdy
rigidity their several lines of demarcation. Some, we ob-
serve, are thickly covered with tiny patches of a greyish
shell-like appearance, tha seem with a sort of tenacious
energy to attach theraselvc- to whatever cannot readily
be devoure<l — they are the barnacles of time, that feast in
death and fat on dissolution !
I am afraid you w^ill be disappointed, after all, in the
place to which I've brought you, and I may find it ditti-
cult to satisfy you for coming so far ; indeed, I am almost
afraid to tell you that that old Cemetery is Bunhill
Fields, in the anxiety whetlier you may not feel, after all,
sorry you came ; but you must be indulgent, and bear in
mind our expedition is not altogether the sort of stroll
we take when we arc in for a " lark."
K
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162
RKVKRIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKIt
I
VI
Ah, but what of Bunhill FieMM, you say, with an air of
distrust that makes ine ahnost wihIi wc had stayed in the
AblKjy. Well, the people livinj( roiind alK)nt this dreadfully
decrepid and evidently long disused old receptacle, no douht
regard it as a plague spot, and smart under a consciousness
of being, thereby, misrepresented if not maligned. 1 feel
sorry for them ; but it is possible they are too high-toned,
ami that the soap factories, and distilleries, al>ounding in
tliis ncighlxmrhood, have had rather too much of a
purifying and refining iiiHuence. They want Westminster
Abbey, up here, and some of the worthies who have taken
an indefinite lease of the "Poets' Comer;" they covet
an item of tlie ashes of <lefunct royalty, — a monarch or so,
with say a sprinkling of the hallowed dust of smothered
princelings, — a Guelph would do, although the}' would
prefer an older pedigree. The Fates, however, are inexor-
able, so they have to bear with what they have ; and poor
old Bunhill Fields, where the mortality of London went,
for centuries, to scrape its feet, must suffice.
Here lie the excommunicated and voluntary exiles of
the Romish and English churches, — here, covered with
wounds, the veterans of religious strife, have dragged their
weary frames to lay their bones in peace ; and with theni,
too, no doubt many of the ragged-band that followed
them, — the " lame, and halt, and blind," the " moral leper,"
and all the conscience-stricken ritt-rafF that required to
be spoken to as " Man never spake before/'
We enter and look about us. Not far from the entrance
is the tomb of Isaac Watts, and around him are clustered
(mANITK AN II AKIIRS.
i(ia
A giKMlly army otMissciitiii^ {>i'uudiui>i ; nil in luvoiil now,
it is hoped, like the pious ditties of their chief. Quaint
inHCriptions and sepulchral oddities, may U> seen all
Ai ound ; hut theit; is a dread alK>ut this sortoot* thing,
and as we pick our way anujngst them, we frel a gKs)m
that even the bright sun beaming down, does not with all
its cheering intluence seem readily to dispol,
IX. " •
. , ■ , 'I
But " whose monument is that," you ask curiously, "so
UKMlern and fresli-looking, as if it had not stood there
long?" — (Pointing to a simple shaft about as liigh as an
ordinary ceiling.) Ah, you have discovere<l one of my
heroes ! and do not feel too disappointed when I tell you
it is only Daniel Defoe. He shivered long in the cohl,
before he got those new clothes, but people took comj)as-
siou on him and dressed him up a bit, that he might not
appear (juite so shabby even among the ragged set sur-
rounding him. It was a contribution in "penn'orths"
from the children of England ; too small a sum to have
been compatible with the dignity of those who built the
njonuments in and about Hyde Park, and Trafalgar S(piare,
so it came as the gift of the cliildren, — those whose fresh
young hearts had not out-lived the memory of dear old
llobinson Crusoe. Ah ! iis a tribute from them, we feel recon-
ciled it is not in St. James' Park, ten times as high, and
surmounted by a bronze figure to perpetuate and recall a
form and feature, which, as a shaggy, elfish-looking crea-
ture surrounded by his animal friends, is better known.
1.,
'4
"I
w
U'A
llEVERIES OF AN oLD SMOKKU.
kindlier thought uf, and nioro heartily sympathized with,
than any name in all the kingdom of storydom.
It is quite in keeping with this abandoned spot, this
Bunhill Fields — all ignored in the high-toned map of regal,
Christian London — to feel we are indeed so near the vir-
tual hero of that far ott' deserted island ; and here too,
blending with his dust, is his ** man Fiiday." The story
that made the inxmortality of these men one, can it be
possible it were all a fiction ? How we have sympathize*!
with them in their troubles, grieved with them in their mis,
fortunes, or rejoiced with them in those gleams of hope that
bade them cheer ! How kindly, how lovingly, even in our
later life, do we recall those gatherings round the fireside,
where the question whose turn it was to sit on father's
knee, was of greatr^- import to us than were to cabinets the
deposition of emperors or the accession of kings ! And
now behold the interest, the delicious blerjding of terror
and wonder witli which they listen to the oft-repeated
tale of those two cast-aways ! — Watch the sparkling eye,
the glowing cheek, the quaffing of each word, the boyish
gulping down of whole sentences ! — How ill they brook
a pause, how jealously they glance sideways at the old
black pipe, on the mantelpiece, whose interruptions they
know of old and each moment hoping, yet fearing the
exercise of its sovereign rule !
What a gush of sweet memories, even now, sweeps over
us with the thought — and is the story of Crusoe all an illu-
sion ? Granted ; but it is true to nature and inspires this
picture which is real. A shouting in the street outside
(iRANITE AND ASRES.
105
arouses us from our reverie, and we look around rather
startled ; some of these plucky old dissenters, we remember
just then, died hard and long, and they do toll awful tales
of ghosts and spring-heelod jacks resorting in this vicinity.
We feel pretty hrave in the daytime, but we nuist confess
we are interlopers, after all, and you know live carcasses
have no business hero ; but the voice that might have bid
us begone is hushed, and we edge a little further in.
Are you not getting tiied and hungry ^ this sort of ex-
ploring is not like those jolly rambles in and alK)ut the
llowery vales of Twickenham, and Hampton Court, is it ?
and what a desperate appetite it does give one for sand-
wiches and beer. Well, we've only one more visit to make
and then — but look, do you see that pile of old stones
HI
there — ah, here we are now close up to it ; you can't very
well make out the inscription, it is rather obliterated and
it all looks so awfully old and crumbled. Well, I've been
liere once )»efore this and studied it out and now I know
who is there; possibly, you migl ! have hear<l of him, I
think you have, for the world knows him well, and even
that most exacting goddess Fame, was so enamoured of
his homely visage she wreathed round the brow now pil-
lowed there a garland of her choicest immortelles ! You
may guess whom I mean — it is the author of " Pilgrim's
Progress "* : — In life, bufieted in turmoil — in death, se-
questered in repose.
* While the author in at variance with Bunyan in a doctrinal jMunt of view,
that does not prevent him from feeling and expreshing the liighcBt admir-
ation, not only for the honest preacher, but for a work which all uin»t con-
cur in e.steeniinj.; .'is one of the few finest an«» most ori-^inal productions of
tjie imaginaf n extant,
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UEV£Rlh«S OK AN OLD SMOKKH.
X.
Four rough-hewe<l slabs breast-higli, form a rude in-
closure,and on the top of this is placed the recumbent effigy
of John Bunyan. The sculptor must have thought John a
very homely man, for certainly a more uncomely likenens
it would be difficult to imagine. This tomb and its where-
abouts is poor an<l mean, regarded in the light of in
any way an ade(iuate remembrance; there is no tribute
about it at all. No more has been done than common de-
cency required, unless, j>erhaps, the effigy, which maybe re-
garded as an item extra. Perfectly in keeping, however,
with the unpolished simplicity of this man's life, so was his
death, and is his resting place.
Why repine that Westminster Abbey may not con-
tain the ashes of this illustiious plebeian I this once
rude, illiterate, vulgar tinker ! Well, it has most of
our great dead, but the greatest it lacks, and amongst
them t\v< pooi' tenant of Bunhill Fields. This place,
it is true, is hardly in keeping, if we take into ac-
count the beautiful and jjriceless heritage which he be-
(jueathed; but then it must be renjend)ere<l, that gratitude
does not always express its thanks magnificently, and
precedence, you know, in England, and especially " con-
formity," goes a long way ; besides, it must not be forgot-
ten that Bunyan had undergone no monkish manipulation
of " hands," and reall}'^ had no Episcopal authority for
brin«/inff his " Christian " into the world at all.
It is none the less a consolation, li(twevei-, to re-
flect that, any efibj t to rear a ni«>nument adaipiate to tht*
CRANITK AND ASHES.
1G7
()
lesplcnileiit reputation of the author of " Pilgrim's Pro-
gress," would be simply impossible, and serve rather to
stint the sentiment which his memory and his great work
inspire. We may deck the mausoleum of pampered princes,
with the grandeur becoming their mnk and state, — it im-
pels the admiration of gaping crowds, posterity is dazzled,
and royalty maintained; but this man was the artificeroi his
vvn gi'eatness, and that wrought in the envenomed teeth
f a persecution where none durst say, " God bless him ! "
There is no splendid Invalides, no bronze statue here —
none of the dumb * accessories of Buffalo, and Lion, and
( "amel, and Elephant — we V)ehold, indeed, only the cast-off
liabiliments of a great man's mortality ; but up form his
ashes rises a form, not princely, it is tiuo, and yet sul)-
limer in its Doric simplicity, than the jewelled majesty of
kings. — Unlike the artificial light that comes down and
melts in a flood of mellow flame on the tomb of Napoleon,
tliero shines out from this rough stone in-n, a refulgence
that casts its grateful beams broadcast ovei* the earth.
It is just as well there is no lofty pedestal, no granite
monument with spiral steeps, to seek and stint the acme
of his fame — his peerless work is his memorial — and here,
despite all the detracting influences of mean surroundings
and abandoned ruin, we behold in his veiy isolation an
individuality all the more clearly defined, and virtues all
the more absolutely his own. No augustf dome rears its
regal arch over his head, — nought to intercept the smile of
* AH>ert Memorial.
tSt rani's.
f M
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f ST''' '
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nil
168
REVERIES OF AN OLD SiMOKER.
heaven or break the glancing rays of .sun, and moon, and
star — out in sunshine an in storm, amid the twittering of
birds and the rolling of thunder, he sleeps now, calmly,
blissfully, THAT SLUMBROUS REST WHICH BIDES THE GOD
OF Day TO bid him rise, and be marshalled with "the
SPIRITS OF the just MADE PERFECT."
,;V
Itnagindtan.
'- I.
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C.J
IMAGINATION.
I
IN coinniencini,^ this article, T desire, in the first place,
to apologize for giving it so gran<l a name, and to
explain that its objective feature is, in one sense, the
opposite of wheat its title would indicate ; it being my
intention not to confine myself exclusively to the ideal, the
handling of which recfuires a tangil»ility which is found
only in a contrast with the real. In other words, while
using the word imagination as a heading, it is not my pur-
pose to attempt an elaborate* analysis of the mighty and
complex elements which it comprehends ; on the contrary,
I ap])eal to the sph'udid luminary whosr name I have
l.orrowed only foi* such glimmerings as may be acconh.'d
my poor but caiuest efforts to illuminate those other
darker phases of existence which I shall biing up for
examination, and whither I wouM direct those searching
rays with a view to contrasting the relative inHuences of
two great opposing elements, the real and the iinr^af, on
the ups and downs of life.
The title, then, rather denotes the source whence comes
that rosy flame which, drawn by fancy pinnacles from the
darkest tloudy, lights up not siniply tlie aiudess, beguile
\m
•■^^ Iff
■■ »i
172
UEVEIUES OK AN OLD SMOKEK.
'k
[i i
ing labyrinth of mere reverie, Imt also that other path,
iM'att'ii hard, winding its tortuous way along the steep
decline — throu<,di time seam, and mountain gorge— down
the hill-side into the vale.
Here let me say that whatever eulogy I may feel like
i)ronouncing on Imagination, I would not have it regarded
as an exclusive virtue, comprehending in itself all the re-
(puremcntM of happiness. The natural obstacles to its
free hoalthfid exercise may be, and doubtless are, many ;
but the fewer these are the greater our enjoyment, and
the unwise multiplication of them has the reverse ten-
dency to make us miserable.
In keeping, as 1 propose, within an easy range of the
two extremes of lleality and Imagination, I shall leave it
to others to say whore the line between the two should
be diawn the most I shall attempt to do is to suggest ;
but while in my predisposition to favor the ideal, 1 may
fail in justice to the real, it will be found the burden of
my lament is largc^ly a protest against the frantic zeal
evinced in the univeisal nuinia to realize, and against the
sleepless anxiety, as in the case of the holdei* of a note
on a doubtful bank, to redeem ideas and to materialize
thought.
Apiopos of favoring extremes, we njay observe that,
practically, divinity as well uh wisdom lies sonxwhere
between what I was about to call the narjow golden strip,
but it is not golden, at least not in our vulgar sense
of being adorned, but all undefined, exists .a mysterious
borderland called by that good word inodeiation. There
IMAr.lNATfON.
17.1
is, indecil, a !iic«1inm in all tliin*^ tluit to some rxtoiii
falsifies ami puts to shame extremes ; to find the former,
however, it is necessary to have a proper appreeiation
of the latter, auvl ulthough there is no easy metluxl by
which this may Ik) accomplished in all cases, yet it is al)out
the line <lrawn midway l)etween these two opposites, the
happy goal lies, the exact estimate of which is our hi<^h-
est conception of right, and the reward for its observance,
the corresp()n<ling measure of felicity. Hut these extremes
are capricious and beguiling — they are as drifting sand
or the confusing glamour of n mirage, and often lead
astray the most unbiassed and sober ju<lgment. — Peace
may be a mere respite from war, — the breathing spell of
a nation recuperating from some stunning blow, but the
people of which are, or may ])e, secretly planning retali-
ation. — Then it is Vengeance hiding his lowering V)row
under the smiling ma.sk of reconciliation. — Between these
extremes rises the sublime image of the Reproving Angel,
and before Her they shrink back abashed. — Her do-
minion is maintained by a power more potent than the
sword, and less susceptible to mistrust than the " olive
branch." — Her sceptre is the [)ivot on which is balanced
the magic scale of right and wrong. — Her tranciuillity is
better than peace, it is neutrality, and Her triumph the
majesty of conscious strength reposing in the midst of
contention ! ^ -
Thus, too, save for disbelief and inability to com[)rehend,
the soul would shrink back appalled at the extreme specta-
cle of writhing bodies in an eternal Hell of (quenchless fire
}
Hi i t.
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174
KKVKKIKS OF \S (M.l> SMOKKH.
ft'
hihI it is ut^imlly ii l)l< ssiiigtliat rvcii iiiiiiginatiuu is tlmul»
and expressionless to a^^lequateiy appreciate the contrast
iKitwoen that and the opposite extreni** ot* perpetual and
perfect bliss. In<leed, the realizjition of either, in tli-
slight«\st ap[>r('('ial>le(h'gree, woidd be overwhehninjjf ; l»ut
the comparative stolidity with which we listen to all ex-
treme preaching, in«li<ates not so much our inditiercnce as
that we are mercifully constituted and constrained to imbibe
only the more moderate view; and, in the prodigious issue
involving our salvation, tluit is as nnich as it is possible for
}K)or blind mortality to reali/.e, or even partially to com-
prehend. Thus does finite Purgatory, take a stronger grip
than infinite Hell, and while Reason, in religion, as in the
most petty affairs of every day life, lies between extremes,
the finger of Truth points inward from the outer verge to
the true goal of E(piity and Justice, instinct, Humanity,
Conscience may teach us our true bearings to this haven ;
but when tliey are the result of calculation a contrast of
extremes is necessary, and the etfert, as in the hajangiui of
zealots to the same end, is all ^ the more marked that
exorcism, by way of comparison, introduces elements
so widely at variance as to seem hostile. Fanaticism is
the confounding of these extremes for the means — it may
be on the light road, but moving in the wrong direc-
tion. — I claim, however, its devotee will reach the goal
at last, though it be in a contrary way that prolongs the
toil without Imrring hope; and, furthermore, that any
departure from the true way will bring us back in the
spirit to the shrine from whence we started. Indeed, it is
IMA«;IN UlDN.
!>••
!/•>
/•>
not unt'ref|uently the case that the heart ot'tlw inont per-
verse niifl persevering in vice, is entwined in certain re-
I lainiing iriHuences which cri»ppin;r, insensibly, out of
depravity itself, the outcast is conducted through inrx-
))licabl( ordeal to the si)ot whence lie Ixgan his downward
career. The place, in onr moral compass, is hallowe<l, then,
as the thri shold of home to the returned prodigBl ; and
wounded in the c^onHict 'twixt right and wrong, the
scarred veteran in criiin sinks sanfjuishrd before the altar
of bleeding memories.
Tlie idea that all true political and social refonn is
}»rogre8s directly opposite to aud aw;-,^ irom the condition
whence it dates the naw order of improvement, is erroneous
and fanatical, and conies of that jnopensity f(»r antagonism
in human nature which, instead of reconciling <lis(repan-
cies, sets them in conflict. Indeed, it is the misapprehension
of progress that makes the people of the nineteenth centuiy
exult in an exclusive wis* »m and rii;liteousness all their
own, and sneer at the so-called sensuality and inifiiety of
earlier generations. Reform, however, generally a<lvo-
Ciites extremes, — it progresses and retrogrades, — it surges
as in the throes of a mighty wave, — it inundates a country
and then subsides into old-time channels. — Aye, as light-
ning flashing through a pent-up atmos[)heie, and dissolving
its inky vapours into grateful showers,- -disappears, — so
Reform, opening up the Hood-gates on filthy Conservatism,
and cleansing humanity of social and political scurf, evap-
orates; satiated in turmoil, it is assuaged by the very
agony itself creates, and as tears couvsini: down the grim
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176
UEVEIUES uK an OLt> SMOKElt.
profile of mountains, an<l along- the jagged sloi)es of hills,
it rushes down in torrents into the valleys, and is lost
in the sluggish, almost imperceptible current of "mighty
waters."
First, then, let us intjuire, what is Reality — what is Ima-
gination. In their connection, and according to the view
herein, realization is as the lead that probes the briny blue
depths of crystal ocean, and tells the anxious mariner
what is beneath the buoyant wave ; the bits of sand, or
rock, or slime adhering, being the facts that bespeak to his
practised eye what sort of anchorage he may expect, and
what are the dregs of Imagination.
Again, measureless as the fathomless sea would be the
volume of language necessary, ever so briefly but ade-
quately, to define and explain Imagination ; and here
it must suffice to say, it is the family name of that in-
numerable progeny of angelic visions that people and
beautify the gorgeous realm of the incorporeal. Its
mission is not to tantalize but to comfort ; and in this re-
respect its fancies are not all mythical reasonless phantoms
to be despised and repelled, but kind, ever thoughtful,
and faithful friends, whose virtues, unhappily, w'e are too
prone to imbibe in the spirit and falsify in the flesh.
The purest, the most delightful and fascinating of these
ideal attractions, not unfrequently, are found where Reality
presents, in contradistinction, what is most unpreposses*
sing and repulsive; — sympathizing with the flesh, they
» fraternize only with the spirit, — gratification is thti
'1'
IMAGINATION.
177
cloud, the blurring mist that obscures them, — this, desire
dispels, and in adversity or want they assume a loveliness
preternaturally sublime, and shine down upon us in the
full splendor of midnight stars.
As in music there are no refrains so sweet as those
which are attuned to pain, so in imagery, our brightest
conceptions of life are the gleanings of its darkest hours.
But while the most splendid dream of the poet is bom in
deprivation and agony, and mutilated in song, the highest
realization of the painter or sculptor is comparative defor-
mity, dumb, senseless, spiritless — and hence, the chef cV
uiuvre that typifies Liberty in her most perfect symmetry,
is not perched, as we see it, on the capitol dome of a free,
opulent people, but pictured rather, in the imagination of
the fettered and oppressed — radiating the heart of the
galley slave, or set in conjuration against the dark, slimy
walls of hopeless incarceration. -
All the pleasure, all the pain in life are summed up in
two words — Imagination, — ideality. I would fain leave
out the pang of the latter, and confine myself to the bliss
of the former, not simply for the brief span of this hastily
concocted article, but could I exist a thousand years, live,
and think, and write in the delightful task of sapping to
the fullest extent a subject so vast, so resplendent, so su-
blime as Imagination. That may not be, I know it can-
not, and yet looking out upon its magnificent expanse, I
am inspired with an ever increasing awe and adoration
for the beauty and grandeur of this superb attribute of
infinity. Standing, as I feel I am, in the obscurity and
L
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178
REVKRIKS OF /.X OLD SMOKKll.
silent HolitiKlc of the aborigine, gazin<^ out on that glit-
tering sea, a sentiment not altogether vain, makes the
temptation strong to take the plunge and swim or sink.
There are trophies there, in which, though all may claim
participation, none but august minds may grasp and secure
possession ; and while I am restrained by a knowledge of
the pitiable doom of the legions who have yielded and
been engulfed, I confess to no slight envy of the
chosen few who found in those limpid depths an ineffa-
ble delight — a blessed immortality ! Could one dive and
not sink forever, what a " Lethe" in its oblivion it would be
to all trouble — what a delicious unconsciousness of all re-
ality and vexation. One takes courage in thinking, as I
do in the handling of this subject, that he will not risk
himself far out nor where the water is very deep — that
he will avoid the bi-eakers — the conflicting tides — the
treacherous undertow — and then, in the effort of the
shrinking flesh to follow the soul into its native and most
genial element, the most intrepid, all shivering in abject
fear, dips the ends of his fingers in and lets that suffice.
But though we may forego the plunge, how longingly the
poorest and least eligible of us looks further sea-wards. —
There, in yon blue depths, we know, are scattered count-
ess hoards of ungarnered, unreclaimed pearls, and yet the
world has decided on the possessors of that exhaustless
store. — Ah, we sigh to think to venture there were
to impeach the validity of titled deeds, and by impugning
the integrity of hallowed records, we should disturb the
well-merited repose of those great Leviathans whose ele-
glit-
IMA(aNATlON.
170
incnt it is. Indeed, the very thought of venturing, were a
sacrilegious ignoring of those giant intellects whose ap-
propriate dominion it is ; and although they might not re-
sent the intrusion, — they sleep, but their dreams are
amongst the triumphs of an ever wakeful, jealous World.
True, we may not fetter nor circumscribe even the
humblest thought, nevertheless, it may not range through
the universe of letters untrammelled by any considera-
tion for others, or where others have been ; and even in
the airy sphere of imagination, all are constrained to yield
to lordly minds, that exclusive proprietorship which comes
of hard wrought mental exploration and discovery.
In this connection, however, we may observe that even
in the case of those whose attainments, in the ideal realm
we glorify, how puny may their best efforts justly be con-
sidered, how stinted and inadequate, in comparison to the
boundless store on which it has been their rare privilege
to have drawn. In yielding then, even the poor tribute of
my submission, to the universal and omnipotent rule that
grants us glimpses but denies us Paradise, it is consoling to
reflect that the greatest have not been altogether an ex-
ception, — nay, nor so far removed from those humble ones,
who like myself, while yearning for exemption, can offer
no better plea than that of conscious disability.
While all may enjoy the pleasures of Fancy, it is doubt-
less a luxury to the world that they do not require to
write all they imagine. It is easy enough to construct a
vision in the mind, but to transcribe it without marring, in
fact without mutilation, is not so easy as throwing one's
w
I
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180
IIEVEUIES OF AN OLD SMOKEll.
[,ii !■
,1
hat over a buttei-fly ; and let anyone, even the most
cultured, sit down and attempt to write on Imagination
and he will soon begin to feel uncomfortably oppressed
with the magnitude of thought which the word suggests.
It is a sublime subject to think about, but a frizzling
one to handle, and difficult and guideless in its immen-
sity. — Its horizon is ever receding — indeed, its scope
is boundless, and as the very means by which we seek
to compass it are those by which it is inflated, so does its
beauty beguile and its elasticity bewilder. But while it
cannot be described, nor measured, nor confined, it blends
in reason only when associated with what is real.
In the manipulation of such an element, I am not un-
mindful of the peril invob^ed. — A chemist, experimenting
on the volatility of gas, may be caught up and carried
away by the very contrivance he uses to explain its power ;
and to grapple with Imagination, even with the usual care
and precaution, might expose the most expert to the
mishap of getting entangled in some hidden coil attached
to the buoyant bauble, and then, whatever satisfaction
might otherwise have been felt in an illustration so em-
phatic of its elevating tendency, he would appear to those
looking on below, dangling in mid-air or shooting with
meteoric velocity sky-wards. ,,., ,=,, ;. v
III.
''M:
It must be confessed that whatever charms theldealmay
have, it is so far from true we cannot ignore the Real, that it is
the hope to realize which constitutes a special, if not thechief
IMAfJINATION.
1<S1
attraction. IikIolmI, loalities in tlicir inception aio pliantoins
of the Imagination, and those beautiful islands we see stud-
ding the placid waters of the ideal, and all so charming in
the distance, become in actual impact a reassuring evi-
dence, it is tmie, of our substantial existence, but alas for
the maii:aetic charm that attracted and bejjfuiled us ! it is
gone. Our insatiable love of possession, however, and the
spirit of discontent we call Enterprise, will not let us
rest; we follow from one to another of these infatuating
objects, and in each are we successively and invariably
disappointed. Hope reanimates Despair, and onward
through many a perplexing labyrinth we drag our weary
limbs inpursuitof thedelusion. — We meetfiiendsand those
we love, we enlist their sympathies, ami they join eagerly
in the chase. — All are fascinated, maddened, — and emula-
lation degenerating into rivalry, the expedition becomes a
race, a struggle, a contest ! And all for what ! Echo sends
back the uoual provoking refrain, " and all for what ! "
With those in front whose speed has outstripped the
other.?, we hear the anxious query, ** where is it ? " — and
those behind, overcome in the agony of feeling the
prize is lost, fall with the mournful ejaculation, — ■" Ah, I
have missed it ! " But the cry whose pathos penetrates
above the babel is " ivhat is it ? " It bespeaks volumes of
the trophy, as " ah, I have missed it !" does of the vanity
of human wants and wishes. Oftentimes it is mute, but
we interpret its appeal in the eloquent physiognomy of
Hope and Despair, and, though it be not uttered, we note
its silent impulse as it gleams in the eye, throbs in the
heart, and pants upon the tongue I
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UKVF:niKS op AN OLD SMOKKtl.
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In the t'linui of luxurious lioiucs, — in tliu liun«;('rin«^
hauntsof the poor, — it is the novelty and splendor of that
mysterious, "what is it" which at one time vexes, at
another charms and eternally beguiles. It is the motive
power in concjucst, in enterprise and in Iovh,'. The van-
quisher stauds in full possession of the citadel wliich has so
long withstood the ordeal of an arduous and gallant siege,
he ransacks its treasure, hut finds it not. — Those who have
achieved the highest distinction in politics, art, or com-
merce, look about them in the mi<lst of their triumjdis, and
remarking its absence with a pang, wohder where and what
it is ! Aye, what is it. It is the subtle humor of life's name-
less yearning. All feel it ; the infant in its first troubled
wail indicates a guileless inkling of the inexi)licable want,
it is soothed in slumber, but when it wakes it cries. —
Youth, in the blushing nudity of unfledged confidence,
plumes himself he knows " what it is," and slyly revels in
the tempting vision of v/aking love, — then, thread-
ing the rosy labyrinth that leads him to his goal, be-
holds in the incarnation of his dream the charm is fled !
It was only a glimpse he had of the fleeting fugitive,
entangled for a few brief moments in the warp and woof
of Imagination. Alas, it was only the sweet image of a
mirage, cast in the amorous deception of a spell. Like
him, we struggle forward, — the vision vanishes further
away ; we pursue it all through life, and find it always
and for ever fled. Its flight leads through a shadowy vale,
along the darkened trail of lost love and of faded beauty —
its refuge, that elysiimi of spent harmony where blend
f f:.H
uv»
r.MAUlN'ATloN.
183
iruiii;'i'li(; clionis tlio rcccdiMl (K'Iiocs cf niiisic iun\ of soivf
IV.
In opposition to, or rather in prostitution of, the Ideal, it
is a marked chaiacteristie of this clever aj^e to materialize,
and v.e have now come to reganl not only profit as the
main object of production, })ut also the market value as the
iiK^asure of merit. This a[)plios not only to thin<^s in
fancy, but in flesh, and not alone to substances, but to
persons.
. Here we may observe, that so far as the utility of a
thing may connnend it to the wants of a connnunity,
patronage following approval makes the reward not only
an evidence of merit, but a substantial mark of public
favour ; and he who confers this reqidrement on society,
may be satisfactorily recompensed, not in gratitude, but
in money — not in public thanks, Init in national funds.
While this is the practical return commonly preferred as
offering the strongest inducements to labor, neverthe-
less, regarded as an all-preyailing incentive to exertion,
it is a humiliating fact that such a compen.sation is want-
ing very materially in those finer attributes calculated to
encourage and develop the higher nature in man.
It requires no effort in imagination to conceive such noble
deeds as may have no price, no money equivalent, but
how far short of this do those schemes fall wherein merit
depends exclusively on pecuniary success ; and the discre-
pancy herein does not simply indicate the exception I
have taken to the market value of merit, but it explains
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184
UEVEIIIES OF AN OLD SMoKi^.tt.
4
II way the shabby raiment in winch we not unfreciuently
find the miserable crenture of good impulses.
It requires very little knowledge of the world to have
peiceived that any product or project appertaining to al»-
stract worth, though it be of rare humane and intellectual
desert is, if not openly taljooed, left to suffer such a dis-
count in the public mart as virtually to languish and all
but starve. At the same time, designs subserving the most
vicious propensities of a people are in eager demand at a
high premium. — So true is this that we may approve and
neglect one thing on abstract principles, and, though con-
demning, patronize another from motives of avaricious
policy ; but then, it is only in view of profit we consent
to countenance what conscience reprobates.
Thus, while in the realm of letters, the finest v/orks that
embellish our book-world have emanated in the privation
and penur}' of profitless ideal, titles and fabulous sums
have accrued to the invention of big guns, murderous tor-
pedoes, and to such political bravado as leads to a periodical
rupture of the iron-clad peace of nations. So it comes about
that the best thoughts, the purest motives, the most disin-
terested projects, while endowed with the noblest qualities
and the highest integrity, are for that very reason w^anting
in those elements necessary to render them profitable, and
as such must submit to what, in a money age, is a worse
stigma than crime — pecuniary failure. At the same time,
while it might be expected the possessor would, in one
sense, be regarded as a moral triumph, — he is not, as society
is at present organized, even a popular example of the
iMACnXATloX.
IS.'
notion, coiiitnonly inculcnttMl, of tlio almiuluiuM' and swrot-
iiess of virtue's rewar<l.
In this connection we may notice further, that while
public opinion, thou<^h freijueiitly in error, otters in the lony;
run, a fair trial of merit, that test of public esteem which is
obtaininl in the knockin*^ down of a thing to the highest
bidder, is to make merit turn on llie caprice of a preju-
diced and oftentimes depraved taste. Besides, the boon of
oven such a faulty judgment, is practically forestalled,
and public approbation anticipated by go-betweens, —
men whose duty it is to propitiate patronage and cater
to the general appetite, — and who, though profcf^sin^ a
latent appreciation of abstract merit, find their verdict,
like their service, controlle<l by an exclusive regard for the
momentous question of profit and loss.
These censors exist, and many by this means subsist in
every conceivable form and capacity. Indeed, in their omni-
present character, any act or expression which attains be-
yond the privacy of one's own thoughts comes, one way
or another, under their scrutiny, and is subjected not sim-
ply to their criticism but arbitrament. Then, while no
sentiment is thought of much consequence, unless stamped
by regularly constituted authorities, ideas that do not
bear the uncjuestionable " Hall mark," are regarded with
suspicion, not to say contempt ; finding that difficulty in
passing current as does a bank cheque that is wanting the
" cross " or magic '* initials " which, in the mercantile hier-
archy, denote the extent of its endow^ment Avith the re-
deemable essence of the God of Bullion. — ^ ---_ ,^ ii^
'4
ni
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180
1 ;Uf if
HKVKHIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKR.
V.
Not iiulikf the hold Piocrustt's, who Io|)|mmI off or
slretched out all Hubjccts to suit his peculiar notion of u
good fit, the modern In(|uisitor, who, in a minor capacity,
is reflected in every splicie and walk of life, evinces, in
his pleniiKjtential character a hardly less depraved taste.
It is true he exhibits his knowlcilgc; of what is wanted in
a manner somewhat Lss cruel than his ancient prototype,
that is, he neither /u/w nor »tretch('8, but he prunes and
eliminates just as heartlessly, and though he may not
nuitilate, he re[)udiatcs all that does not come up to a
certain specitic gravity whose omniscient standard is (Jold.
Suflice it, however, for these to say — they are the
proxies of public opinion, with their ofl^ce in the vestibule
of posterity ; and it is to them we are indebted for such
a grotes(pie misconception of the abiding sentiment of
ages as declined Goldsmith's " Vicar," — till the old man
Johnson, obtruding the weight of his colossal indignation
on the scene, forced the bid up only to such a starvation
price, as hastened the demise of the author, whose energies,
we may add, expiring with the immortality of the
" Traveller," and " The Deserted Village," a portion of the
paltry income that had otherwise been needed to reim-
burse society for the (to him) extravagant luxury of a
more prolonged illness, went as an appropriate fund for
the partial liquidation of funeral expenses.
There is no doubt, the business of life is getting to be
exclusively to make money, and a man's ability to accumu-
late w^ealth, or the extent of his property, is taken as the
tMAOlNATfOS.
187
]KH»ulHr iiH'usuit? of his rrMjM'ctjil>ility ami uscruliiess.
Now-a-days, in our pious udoratioii of opulent virtue, an
indivi'lual without a ;^'oo<l Itank-account ^cts l»ut scant
Iwuison, and tins, notwitlistandin;,' lie Ik* the pink of
moral indij^ence. — A son who may not have the kiuick of
makinj]^ money, is deemed, even hy liis paicnts, abnormally
deficient in the purposes of his existence — a providential
misfit nnd a useless ineumhrance. So too, a daughter, a
dearly' d >eloved dau^^hter, whom we have reared in accord-
ance with those golden rules, who cannot or does not
marry a f(>rtune, or at least eonsiderahlc property, strikes
a death-hlow to fannly ])ride, and is even a worse fail-
ure than the son. — Sh(^ has " thrown herself away," we
say, and wantonly prostrated in tin; dust tlu; gilded fahrie
which her <loting parents and admiiing relatives have
reared, aye, and connnenced holding up to her dazzled hut
delighted vision, almost from the time thev first tauirht
her to lisp her wants.
Everything, in fact, of any utility is come to be looke<l
upon as a promise to pay, and the person or thing that
does not pay is held in about the same esteem as the
drawer of a protested note. Verily, it is hard to conceive
a more sordid state of human deiiravity. — Religion, with
all her high-toned accessories, is contaminated, and the
question " will it pay" is marching and counter-njarching
the great army of modern crusaders, who look more anx-
iously to the New Jerusalem foi" redeemed paper than for
redeemed souls. — -Friendship is contaminated, and w^e
can conceive no noble sentiment to sanction "what is
n^
;rf!'
188
REVERIES OF AN Ol.D SMOKER,
sluibliy and proHtless. — Tlio iimsic* iiiid sunsliiiic of lifcs
Hiiblimest heroism, Love, is contaminated, and now Mam-
mon says Vn'usquely, to the living embodiment of our
lovin<( heart's ideal, "come;," and she follows, — and behold
the tender but sensitive chords, the blossoming vine,
and floral lace work that woman's witchery has inextri-
cably interwoven and embowered our shrine, droop and
fade, and tall, under the gleam of that yellow blight, like
autumn leaves, — and the idol of a worship all too divine,
unmasking the hidden Paradise of our yearning faith, re-
veals the mean imposture by which we have been be-
guiled.
The poor girl is not altogether to blame, in such a case,
it is rather the fault of her tutors ; and the generation
of the present may in turn shift the guilt back u[)on
others who, having transmitted the curse, passed away.
And here we may observe, if these early ones burn, as
we are told, till all accounts are sent in against them,
they will wait and linger long in turmoil, for crimes which
they only bequeathed, and the evil of which they ignored,
but the misery, consequent, endured centuries after they
had vanished in dust ! Thus, we might expect the re-
sponsibility of sin to be divided and mutually borne, and
it would not be unreasonable to suppose the beginning
waited on the ending, but for that divine proclamation
of amnesty to the mouldering and dying races of man,
— " let the dead bury their dead."
...; .i:Z. VI. 'I/^■i:.;w^■
I cite the amassing of wealth as an example of the pre-
vailing passion to materialize, and the consequent impa-
IMAGIJJATION.
189
tience and discontent with which we re<rard every thino*
in a transitory and imperfect state, lead naturally to our
contempt for the ideal, which is looked upon as opposed
to the real. Our business and our triumphs now-a-days
are not, we think, with the incorporeal, which is rather
the bug- bear against which we bar our doors and windows,
and close up all the avenues of our treasure. Despite our
caution, however, we may not lock our hearts — they may
be the grim, tenautless rookeries of bachelordom, but they
are all the more eligible in imagination, as the sequestered
haunts of love's piracy and passion's lawless witchery^
Still the cry is for the substantial, the tangible ! — The
etherial is not solid enough, it won't bear the beating,
the hauling, and squeezing that comes up to our ideas of a
real trophy ; so we push on and hardly stop to breathe
till we have reduced our ideas of earthly treasure into
hard cash, — our thoughts of an abiding place into brick
and mortar, — our dreams of love into wives, and then
all restless and fagged, we lose appreciation in the drowsy
daze of disappointment, and Dame Fortune, tired of our
service, says with Delilah, " The Philistines be upon thee !"
We have progressed so far in our material civilization,
that we measure character as we would gas, and purse and
credit are synonimous terms. So too, happiness and
misery are bargained for and against, and sold and doled
out by the ounce, or ton, or dose, as is wine or physic and
the consequence is, we are either in the frantic intox-
ication of artificial excitement or reduced to despair by a
})ernicious reaction. rj'A-vf:;;;h-i^:-'^-'f /'^ --■'.-"- v.-c.'N4?\:>--;b.;;,i. .,
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REVElllKS OF AN OLD SMOKEU.
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Meanwhile, racked by these contending elements and
debasing influences, we are expected to imbibe, and actu-
ally profess to practise, withal, a righteous sense of living,
and to make and apply all the subtle distinctions between
right and wrong. A feat of mental equilibrium, the
performance of which requires our utmost sobriety, and
the exercise of our keenest moral perception, and even
then, our best attainments, in reality, are only worthy of
the rare distinction of being pardonable failures. Indeed,
the most energetic and successful workera for good,
triumph actually, only so far as to at last struggle and fall
on the right side of the neutral line ; but while some drop
with only a leg, or an arm, or a finger over the magic
boundary, we pray some pitying spirit may help them
the rest of the way. - - ; •> ;
It may be urged in extenuation, that, owing to the high
standard of propriety professedly in vogue, we are forced
to dissemble for appearance sake, and we submit — it
is to be hoped, with commendable reluctance — to cloak
our debauchery under the proud assumption of better
living. In this disguise then, we strut abroad with the
dazzling concomitants of wealth and so called refinement,
conspiring in our honor and protection ; and thus too, our
pretensions pass current in the eyes of those we meet, —
not however, in the impulse of mutual esteem, but as two
individuals (I will not say thieves), encountering in some
lonely place at night, — each suspecting the other to be a
rogue, they pass one another with that deference and
civility engendered by mutual distrust.
TMA(UNATION.
VII.
191
I would not deny the caprice of better-impulses, those
choicer strains of virtue that keep on trying to tug our
baser carcase along in the direction the spirit prompts; but
I fail to see in a prescribed, formal reiteration of good
resolves and in that orthodox, ostentatious " mending"
of people's " ways,'' any higher efficacy for the cure of the
evil of which I speak, than such as makes abstinence an
appetizer, and such a fasting for a day as gives gusto to
feasting of a week !
This may be a discouraging and in itself a depraved
view of human nature ; but while it may be regarded by
some as an intemperate and exaggerated criticism, it
is proffered in good faith as a sober, and, as I think, ra-
tional estimate, — the colors, only, being touched up, here
and there, to suit at once the ideal and the real com-
plexion of Truth. So it is, without doubt or scepticism,
I most emphatically reaffirm, that to any one of the virtues
we profess to patronize, our sphere must appear simply a
pandemonium of carnal riot ; and in our drunken, sensual
conviviality we must seem, at best, what we really are,
the agreeable perfection of all that is most depraved. Re-
garded in this light, then, it follows, that in the remorse
of sober reaction, and in the chagrin of prostituted homage,
we should revenge outraged humanity on each other, and
malign, harass, destroy. So, too, even in the much glori-
fied efforts of some to relegate these evils, — stripped of all
fulsome panegyric, what is there to extol ? Why a man
whose surfeit of debauchery makes him ill, sneaking away
if
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UEVKUIES OF AN OLD SMOKEH.
to find relief, calls the tilthy mission Reform ; again, he
sees, with the sated eye of the gourmand, poverty starv-
ing in the street and, returning to the festive board, re-
calls the vision only with the s3'^mpathetic pang of a
keener relish. Meanwhile, WANT covets bread and
PLENTY calls the hankering Communism! ! !
viii. • .
But you say, why introduce into a subject like this
such glum phases of our social existence, or pass in review
such scurvy evidences of our defiled humanity ; why re-
call the battered and stinking characteristics of our mea-
ner mortality, — what have they to do with imagination,
unless, perhaps, to deodorize the sweeter graces of Fancy.
I answer, they have everything to do with it; in com-
parison with the ideal, they are the dismal range of bleak -
hill and dusky mountain banked up against a rosy sun-
set. — They figure in the gloaming of dispelled fancy,
chinked away inside the partition that divides the earthly
Day from the celestial Morrow, and though screened and
embellished constitute the inner lining of dark between
two gilded walls ! The result of the all prevailing mania
to subsidize, is the rapid accumulation of these time scars
which it requires no over-keen perception to see grouped in
a dim shadowy array of grim Realities.
Against the sombre shades of this darkened back-
ground, Iihagination rears those magic illusions which
though intangible, are real as the emotion that calls them
into being, and though defective, in com]»arison with the
IMAGINATION.
193
Supreme, are faultless as our highest concej^tion of all per-
fect loveliness. These are not all portraits, some are pic-
tures of life which we people with the forms we like best,
and enact scenes wherein Love, Friendship, Devotion,
each plays a favoure<l role in some pet drama in which
Affection has written the story of cherished memories, and
in which Hope blends her spice of untasted joys.
Artists, highest in the art of portraying pathetic scenes
in life, have won imperishable fame, and justly so. While
I would not presume to detract from their laurels, neverthe-
less with all their great works before us, offering as they do,
the highest evidence that the knack of transferring the
ideal to canvas, was known and practised long ago by a
few of the old masters, it must be admitted, notwithstand-
ing, by those who take the trouble to think, that the
grandest achievement of the greatest painter can only bo
merely suggestive. After all it is God's own handiwork
wrought in the imagination that gives it its splendor,
its spirituality, its life ! In this view, the corresponding
ability on our part necessary to make it admirable, ren-
ders those sublime touches of Art a mutual success — not
alone an exclusive honor to one, but a general triumph
in which the humblest may claim participation. — Aye, and
so the mendicant, crouched in abject adoration before
that master-piece, " The Transfiguration," might, if he
only knew and appreciated the high estate pertaining to
his being, rise in the dignity of his manhood, and shaking
off the trammels of mere social abasement, assume an in-
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Hattaollc.
IX.
Reality may be defined in many ways, and in its re-
lation to things animate, may be regarded as one stage
in life which infinitesimal space of time marks in our
progress towards the end — evolved, as it were, in a com-
plex system of whirlpools, round which we are propelled
by all our inclinations, and the focus of all these minor
pools is the bottomless vortex which we call the grave.
That we should take to these fateful stages of our mo-
mentous journey so willingly, comes about in that delight-
ful exercise of the ideal which, by magnifying and radiating
these friction sparks of time into a variety of pleasing
fonns, the period of fruition, becomes devoutly wished for
epochs, to which, in perspective, we cleave lovingly. It
is characteristic of our nature, as well as of the times,
to want to draw near reality ; I mean, the consum-
mation of wishes and plans by which we are expect-
ing a legacy of pleasure. All our faces turn that way,
and there is a magnetism as well as a fascination about
it that we cannot or do not resist. In fact, we are so far
from simply submitting to be borne along, we use every
means in our power to propel ourselves forward, and
out of all patience, even with the rapid flight of time,
in our contempt for its too tardy habits we cleverly ig-
nore intervals, — opening our eyes only at certain periods,
in<licatinif we have arrived at this or that staire of our
IMACJINATION.
11)5
journey, which we are consoled to feel, is being expedited
by the accelerated speed of lightning express.
These intervals which oftentimes we doze away and count
as naught, constitute th(» ever perspective season we term
A ntlcipatlon ; the stopping-places being the Reality. The
former is the blossoming, — the latter the fruition, of life ;
and thus classified, they represent respectively, pleasure
and disappointment. It is no doubt true, with many people,
this order is reversed, and they impatiently fi*et and fume
for what they believe to be felicity, not in hand but coming,
and they postpone their enjoyment till the happy period of
arrival. But even then, our modicum of ])leasure is doled
out in anticipation, and to expedite the meeting we has-
ten foi'ward in advance — like a bridegroom to meet his
bride — rejoicing, indeed, rather than tiring as we wander,
year after year, in a vain search for an affinity existing
only in imagination.
X.
These intervals of waiting and longing, we all too fre-
quently count as an ordeal of probation and self-denial to
which we yield of necessity but most grudgingly. They are
to us a tedious tension of mind and body, an agony of sus-
pense which if we only outlive we think will usher in an
ample compensation. Aye, and we bide the time as chil-
dren do, itching and scratching through the interminable
age twixt Christmas Eve and the tardy dawn that signals
the sweet assault on socks.
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All, how WO lonjLf for tlic ^oal ami that precious period
of l)an(iuetin<]^anrlh)ve-making! — how we strain oiir mental
vision to catch a <^liinpse of it ahead ; hut we will wait, we
think consolingly, and not take anything in the mean-
time to spoil our afipetite. And yet how impatient we are
of our speed. We would outstiip Time. The one who
drives the fastest it is taken for granted will get there
Ijrst, and so we say, put on more steam, apply the whip,
faster, faster ! Old chums pass us in the race, — we con-
gratulate them as they are hurled past ; rivals go by us
exultingly, — we envy them and are chagrined to be left
behind.
If we have a dear and anxious friend with a film before
his eyes, just a gauzy partition, say, between him and his
promised land, we wrench it away feeling we have per-
formed for him an invaluable service. But, great Heavens!
we exclaim in alarm and consternation, what ails him now ;•
he seems transfixed in terror -broken in grief What have
we done ? Nothing we need mind about, it is what all
the world does, it is a way they have ; we waked him up,
that is all. We thought it was the station where he
wanted to stop, and in waiting for wdiich he had been
in such eager suspense, or perhaps we only informed him
of something which we thought he ouglit to know and of
which he was in blissful ignorance. Now, howevei-, there
is a change of aspect. Our disinterested performance was
to him the nn welcome signal of some dread calamity, or
may l>e only some lesser misfortune or vexation ; but the
contrast to present pain makes the retrospect seem as if
» 'p
IMACJINATIOX.
197
it iiiij^lit Iiavr iM'uiMli'liglitful, atul may iiu it was. I'cr-
liaps, our kindly uHicu was a duty ; still wo say — tliuu«rli it
may sound like the policy of the sick-room — we bad
done much better not to havt; disturbed liini.
Who says nay, I care not what his belief, is thr fanatic
wlio issues forth in pious frenzy into the tian([uil night of
so called heathendom, and in the assumed voice of the
avengin*,' angel cries, " Fire I Fire !" when there is no fire. It
fulls upon the startled ear of the slumbering devotee, and
wakes him to the carnal apprehension he will be burnt; and
with no higher instinct than the nuid impulse to savehim-
sL'lf, he sees the opening where the light is let in — it is made
to seem the only means of egress from his perilous situa-
tion — he jumps and then he falls into that lethargic state
of new-fangled evangelism, whose boasted liberality is only
too apt to be the arrogance of bigotry, the serenity of
apathy.
Whatever orthodoxy may dictate to the contrary,
I believe there is reason in the indulgence that inclines
in such a case to give him back his dream, i admit that
dream may be all erjoneous, but then if it be happy, it is
as good as right, and if serenely confident that all is well, it
is better than wisdom, it is faith. In making such a start-
ling affirmation as, — if it be happy it must be right, — I
mean that in following the simple promptings of humanity,
all have the benefit of a monitor whose kindly suasion is
not only in unison with the finest instincts of our nature,
but also as nearly in accordance as it be possible to con-
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RKVKIUKS OK AN Of.f) SMOKER
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ceivc, >vitli that Divine will whose ex puiieiit, ineurimte, in
tho hninuii heart.
VVould I apj)i*()ve the iiniimlation of a fellow Iwing
as n sacred rite ^ N<j. Why^ Because the instinct of wliiirh
I speak condenins not only that horrid custom, but
many others for whieh we have to thank, not the will of
the poo})le or of (Jod, but rather the ordinance of a heart-
less Hieraieliy, that they (!ver prevailed. We have ex-
alted evidence of tlie fact that the worst atrocities in all
the })lack roll of crime have been perpetrated in the name
and misconception of ri^ht; but that does not disprov
the view above enunciated. Nay, even in the tableau
of the unhapi)y Abraham, sacrificing^ his own son, we
see a fc«rther illustration of the commcm sense of mak-
ing peace-of-mind the in<licator of right doing; an' I the
atrocious triumph of the saint over the father, on that
occasion, is only redeemed from universal reprobation by
the God of Silence having broken the spell of speech-
less wrath to bid him stay ! '-
We may add, furthermore, that many of the doc-
trines we would substitute, are neither enlightened,
peaceful, nor humane. There is no sense, no justice, no
love in the abominable expedient of cruelty, — all virtues
are opposed as with one voice to vengeance, — and the
theory of a lake of fire, is no doubt a crude and glaring
example of the sensual tendency of this and an obsolete
age to materialize. Hov/ever politic its use may have been
in an early period, it is needless to inquire ; but now it is
not simply illogical, it is vicious to maintain, that to eke
I. MA(JI NATION.
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out tlio n!\vur<l uf spiritiiul felicity, we iimst iummIs not only
Im- threatcntM] witli corporal punishnicnt l)ut Imve, as \vc
(Jo, this Hwect fore taste of fragrant Paradise, made at
once redolent with the o<lors of appi'usiiin; incense and
stifling with the fumes of pui'j^aitorial hrinistone. Indeed,
it can be r('<j;anle(l iik no l)etter light tlmn as a sacrilegious
monstrosity, the effete virtues of which are conceded only
by those who have the brazen effrontery to profess what
they do not believe,— and, without wanting in ability to
ap{)rehend, nie lacking in n)anlines3 to condemn. I reit-
erate, it is a i)ious leprosy tiansmitted, despite the disin-
fecting fumes of incense, through the contagion of putrid
generations. The effect being worse than in the darkest
days of bigotry and intolerance; for without the faith that
then obtained to dis[)Ose us to purchase absolution, we
save our money and in the oblivion of its luxury enjoy a
comfortable indifference erroneously dubbed liberal piety
XL
'Mr:
Reality is the wreck of Imagination ; and we see the
evidences, all too sad and true, that Time has cast upon
the shore. To a great extent, this is inevitable. We are all
drifting on that rocky ^^ortage which, looming in a black
banier against the sky, betokens at once the end and the
origin of the turbid waters of life. Well, let it come in
the gradual progress of events ; and w^hy I raise my voice
is to expostulate with that mad seamanship which, crowd-
ing on all sail and steaming directly for the land, precipi-
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UKVEUIKS OK AN OM) SMOKKU.
tales futa.stiophu. The uiiiMtloii of people in tlirse livtfiil,
enterpiisiiig tiiaes Is, us I have said, to reduce all thin^^s
pertaining to the ideal to the real — thiH, too, as quickly as
possible — ami therein, I claim, lies the secret of much tri-
bidation, as well as the cause of that \vitherin«:j I lii^dit
which, fallin<^ in the 1 u<ldin;( sprin«^-tide of life, heaps
upon a barren strand, joyless mounds of drifted leaves.
While the dream of happiness should not be awakenc:d
simply because it is a dream, the <lispelling of anythinj^
so absurdly pleasant as many of our illusions may l^e,
not unfre(piently invites a worse deception in the fact
that j)roves it a chimera. Besides, too, ideas nursed
from their inception with parental tenderness, will attain
later, the strength and maturity of reason ami utility ;
whereas, to force their growth, as we do, is to invite de-
cline and precipitate disappointment. Indeed, it is the
cultivation of anticipation, — long drawn out, that becomes,
in its gradual ripening, a fruitful source of happiness. — It
does not perish from day to day as the shrivelling flesh,
but fructifies in the spirit, and makes the ordeal of final
dissolution only the birth of new life and the perj)etuation
of uninterrupted joy. -
Here we may observe that, while consummation comes
as the natural se(][uence to the hard wishing and toil
preceding it, nevertheless, its tardy approach may be
felicitated in the reflection that, the last blow struck
in the completion of any work dispels the charm that
made the idea of its origin the delight of its creation.
Mere sensual gratification is, as a rule, the mainspring of
IMAtJlNATIoN.
t!Ol
all (iiir plans ami attioiis ; lait it is only in lliu uxceptioii,
and that rarely, wo realiz*; expectation, and totind tlu* true
.secret of happiness, we discover, when tcjo late to enjoy,
we nuist set ahout nncloin^, or at least repenting much
wo have ilonr. 'J'his, too, notwithstaiulinj^ our aehieve-
inei ts may liave been counted hy the worhl a success.
In tlic lal)or of retrospection, we not unfretpiently tirnl
tiiose works hy which wc set the least store, assume the
<,'reater prominenco «n<l reveal the most worth. And in
this connection we may note, the attainment of anythin«(
that is a mere contri})ution to our own pleasure must he
distinguished from the performance of a <luty, or some ai t
of pure benevolence or kindness in behalf of others. In
the latter case we may go about it with a degree of de-
libeiation borderinjij on reluctance, and think wistfully ( f
more genial tasks we have put aside for this work of self,
abnegation. It is, or appears a sacriHce for which we may
not expect nuich return, but now the pleasure, in the re-
verse order of the former case, instead of being the anli-
cedent glow or thiill of greedy impulse, comes to lighten
the retrospect of which I speak, and is, in effect, ha[>piness
sown for subseciuent enjoyment — the recompense, the
abundant gratiKcation of a perpetual harvest.
In opposition to the real, one feature of the ideal is that
it assumes persons and things to be better than they are,
and more attractive than the}' would otherwise appear ;
and to this peculiarity are we indebted, not a little, for
peace-of-mind under adverse circumstances. Indeed, it is
not too much to assume there is no misfortune, taken in
Mill
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202
nKVEHlKS OF AN OLD SMoKKH.
w
tlio hoiKt fide course of ovuiits, that lias not, as lit'iviii, its
attendant and adequate halm to solace and reeuperate. —
We may go a little further even, and say there is no con-
dition in life that has not the latent and natural, althouj^di
wanting in the ostensible and mateiial attributes to
make all men ecinal and all things well. — That while the
world is naturally as enjoyable for one as for another,
the iliscrepancies that seem at variance with this are, for
the most part, brought about by an improper exercise ol
nature's gifts ; or, at best, by such a misconception of our
duty as to make nnicli of our boasted enteiprise, greatly,
if not wholly, at variance with the higher plans of a most
kindly and impartial Providence. These plans for our
liappinoss are neither difficult nor obscure ; at least,
they would not be, did not our schooling and enlighten-
ment make them so, and our advisers, instead of guiding,
mislead us as regards what constitutes the true treasure
and correct object of life.
It must be confessed some may appear more bountifully
favored than others, but so far as worldly goods are con-
cerned, while api^reciation makes the poor man rich,
avarice makes the rich man poor. Physically, however,
the above exception would seem to obtain, but even those
cases are endowed with ret rie vino- irraces of the mind.
Besides, the man who carts his body around with him
every where is under the muscular dominion of appe-
tite, and is beguiled by something worse than the vanity
of his ow^n shadow. Then, too, while the exercise of our
corporeal being is conducive to pleasure, it is equally
IMAGINATION'.
20r,
«;nscept)l)l«^ to paiii : youtli liivors tlio furnior, old {i;^c
the latter. Now wlule we lal)or prot'essedly to provide
for the infirinities of the one, our efforts are really to
supply the appetites of the other ; and the store, however
tempting it would have been in our early days, seems, on
the contrary, more especially adapted to the punishment of a
Tantalus than to the succoring of our enfeebled energies. So
it is, old and incapable, we find we have succeeded, by exer-
cising all the keener instincts of the gourmand, in realizing
the dream of the voluptuary ; but in the attainment of a
luxurious establishment, ]>erfect in all its appointments,
there is still one (h-awback. — It is, indeed, an elysium for
youth, but the very oi)posite of an asylum for old age, and
])estered with the cruel inconsistency between the arm-
chair of the patriarch and the goal of the juvenile, — poor,
miserable, chagrined, — we turn from the gilded fraud, a
wholly ineligible candidate for the temporary use, nmch
less the unrestricted enjoyment, of our own possessions.
*.i
XII.
The measure of misery which a thing may produce is
in inverse ratio to the pleasure it is capable of affording.
Though we derive exquisite enjoyment from the FLESH, it
is only in the exception it is not made the instrument of
our sufiering ; meanwhile a little of that observation be-
stowed on less worthy objects discovers this mistake, — that
we set our chief store of happiness by it. As, however, we
may not blind ourselves to the fact that it must perish, we
204
REVKIUKS OF AN OLD SMoKEU.
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becoiuu the natural prey to a well-f(jiiii(lod apprehcnsiuii
and, instead of rejoicino-, lament in tlie midst of our mate-
rial triumphs.
Why the jjoorer classes are not happier is because they
are not educated beyond the satisfying of mere brute ap-
petite ; and amongst the wealthy and more cultivated tlie
same animal propensities are only the more largely but
gracefully developed and exercised. So, also, the use and
discipline, and not alone the exaltation and praise, of those
higher faculties which would raise them above the dread
of petty failure and a shabby living, although professedly
observed to the letter, are virtually ignored, both in spirit
and practice, or at best patronized only for effect.
In other words, the so-called refinement we see paraded
all around us, and bought and paid for, is to man what a
brush or curry-comb is to a horse — a means for showing
them off to greater advantage. But being, in the former
case, adapted especially to the embellishment of prosperity,
it does not in any degree develop those other latent quali-
ties and deep-hidden gems, which, constituting at < »nce the
glittering regalia of man's innate royalty and the patent
of his nobility, go so far to win homage and respect even
for the refugee in adversity.
The truth is, we do not foster a proper esteem for
the idealistic. Nay, and the time stolen, as if in shame,
from the all too engrossing cares of business, and dedi-
cated grudgingly to the seemingly unprofitable, culti-
vation of that beautiful and prolific field, should not
be, as it is, the fag-end of a idle hour, — a dusky intrusion
1MA(JINATI0X.
205
ona weaned spirit, — and, altogether, the peevish tribute of
a vexed day's old age, but rather a goodly share of that
period which gladdens the f^rst springy impulses of re-
stored nature — I mean that sjolden border to the niffht
when the mellow flame that lights our dreams merges in
the rosy blush of dawn — that nick of time when starry
Eve, rising in sweet embarrassment from the arms of Mor-
pheus, yields with maternal instinct to the ever recur-
ling infancy of elastic morn, and, — vanishing, — we still
behold the imprint of her kiss in sprinkled dew-drops
sparkling on the baby face of the new-born day !
♦ !
XIII.
Youth is supposed to be overflowing with romantic
visions, which it is presumed by the older ones to be
their duty to dispel, and so they belabor themselves in
hacking and pruning and trimming. Give us, say these
knowing ones, corn not roses, and the flower they encou-
rage is the kind they eat. This reminds one of the fanati-
cism of the reformer or pioneer, who cuts down and clears
away every vestige of tree, and shrub, and vine, in his con-
tempt for what he styles vain and ])rotitless ornament.
Later generations, however, frequently find that what their
extinct daddies prudently condemned as an extraneous
and worthless growth, was not all a superfluous produc-
tion and a mistake in nature, and thereu])on invoke
bountiful and ever-forgiving Providence, to lestore the
grateful luxuiy of this old-time heritage. 'J'hen it is the
*iit?
206
llEVKRIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
I
bushy chestnut and the leafy oak, the ever-green hedge-
row and blossoming gorse, once so unceremoniously ex-
pelled, are recalled and reinstated. Then, too, as the scions
of an ancient noblesse in the gorgeous pageant of a i-e-
stored dynasty, they are pointed out with pride and love,
not only as amongst the courtly gi*aces of a benigncr
regiTne, but also as the most admirable tokens of an im-
proved social polity.
Generally speaking, in our treatment of the mind, we
seek to sow only what will mature quickest, and as regards
expeditiousness in yielding, are rather disposed to favor
the example of some of the lower orders of animals. We
would, if we could, make production simultaneous witli
conception, sowing and reaping all in the same stride. The
variety of production aimed at, being that which will the
most readily contribute to the making up of v/hat is termed
a ** living," beyond this we have in view what constitutes
our highest conception of an earthly el-dorado — it is com-
prehended in an article and a substantive, and this noun,
together with its adjunct, is about all the great majority
of us ever realize of " A fortune."
In this manner the minds of our children are " trained,"
only in such teaching as, like the wares of a common
huckster, can be the soonest realized in the market ; and
thus, with all the ridiculous gravity of learned baboons,
we apply ourselves to enlarging their understanding, by
warping their aspirations. The one all-absorbing object
in life is money- making, ami to accomplish this en<l
TMACJINATION.
207
we subordinate both tlie uses of Kducation ami the pur-
poses of Existence.
Nor are the liigher systems of what is erroneously called
" University" education, without such warping characteris-
tics as make them like the "religion" of sects, catholic only
in name. We mighi have hoped (might still hope) to see
our universities convalescent homes for diseased prejudice ;
but instead of that, they are contagious resorts, where
healthy minds are sent to be inoculated with the prevail-
ing distempers of the age, and are graduated invalids
physically, — and mentally, maniacs on every subject per-
taining to the liberal doctrine of common smse. Edu-
cation, however, ordinarily speaking, is largely the re-
sult of a hasty cramming, and mechanical committal to
memory, of numberless text-books — many of which are
" garbled," and the true meaning of the original perverted
and mystified. Its use, the dexterous application of certain
rales and formulas, not in the commoner business affairs of
life merely, but in those professions where the ministering
of these forms are become lucrative occupations and crafts
for the exclusive benefit of the few, and to the impover-
ishment and general hardship of the many. Beyond
"coaching" the intellect to profit by and maintain " pro-
fessions" and "cliques" which are already become a griev-
ous public nuisance, our process of "culture," inculcates no
more liberality than is observable in the arrogance of the
pedant, whom we see delivering himself with such senten-
tious gravity and aplomb oi hifi unimpeachable "authori-
ties." Hei'e let us observe there is nothing, speaking within
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llEVKUIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
l)f)un<ls, that the Innnan inin»l in the exercise of its natural
energy and foresiglit, does not possess the faculty to analyze
and test. Without doubt, too, the truly ennobling part of
knowledge is the real hard study and thought by which
it is originally conceived. But this effort of mental brood-
ing and hatching, is impossible, when it is considered the
number of rules, regulati(ms, and exceptions one must be
able to rattle ofi* in order to stand hi<xh in his class. So
ignoring our own self-producing faculties, we take and
pay for the intellectual food prepared for our consumption,
and, with no thought of the altered conditions of life,
shut our eyes and blindly swallow.
In this way it comes about, the youth aspiring to
<.'ollegiate honors is set to the routine of acquiring know-
ledge when he is not considered fit for anything else ;
graduating later, literally stuffed with ideas not his own,
he astonishes an ignorant community by fathering con-
ceptions whose real parents are as old as the Pyramids.
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In athletics, each different exercis^i brings into requisi-
tion new sets of muscles, all of which become strongei
with the strain. This applies as well to the mental, as to th
physical organisms. In the former case,however, these com-
binations, rightly exercised assume, through the medium of
fancy, all the brilliancy of pyrotechnics, together with the
changeful splendors of the kaleidoscope, — this, too, with
.the additional and fatofid charm of that vitalizing essence
I MA(J1 NATION.
•JO!)
wliicli, instead of conveying to the senses the marvellous
phenomena of pleasing and wonderful colors only, endows
those coruscant fltishes in the ideal lieavens, with the
liighest perfection of human virtue and intelligence. Then
it is, that in the sublimity of their conception, and in the
infinitude of their variety, we identify mind with soul» —
and, stamping thought with those regal attributes of pri-
mitive creation, blend the likeness of man with that of
the Supreme, and unite mortality with immortality I
In confining ourselves to the more grovelling aftairs
of material advancement, our greed, in the effort to
plunder others, overleaps itself, and we pass indifferently
over the fact that each and all of us possess immense
territories in the mind, which, though we regard them
in many cases as of no particular value or utility, are
only veile<l in a mystic wealth, whose hidden veins of
latent riches intersect our ideal being. While these only
need a little exploring and opening up to be brought most
agreeably and beneficially into play, they are permitted,
nay encouraged, to lie fallow; hence, though ignorance
may sometimes be bliss, it is not economy.
There is the impression we have already noticed, which
is, if we leave the Imagination free it would run riot; sober
teaching, it is claimed, isnecessary to keep it within bounds.
80 they clftp on the brakes and set the young mind, not to
grubbing always, but to copying after the example of
certain models so antiquated as to merit the unique title of
" classical." Barring, however, their opportunity to thus
discipline the Imagination they do what is considered by
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IIKVKIUKS OF AN OLD SMUKEH.
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Nuiue the best, unci by many tlu* next best thin^', — tliey
hobble it. Later, forsooth, the highest conception such
a stinted mind can have, is to get rid of its shackles ;
like the poor cripple, whose dream of bliss is to be ri<l of
his deformity.
Generally speaking, time, labor, and treasure spent in the
imbibing of certain so-called knowledge and doctrines in-
variably secure, if not our belief, at least our acquiescence
in the truth and infallibility of such acquirements. Our
puny intellects have wrestled with the mighty works of
famous masters, and we come out of the scholastic tussle
mental athletes in the handling of the ponderous prob-
lems and prodigious ideas of other men. We are easily
made proud of our achievements, and the refined world
applauds ; but what are the acquirements of which we
l)(mst ? Some, it is true, may be genuine trophies won in
the bloodless warfare that is waged with all the pomp and
gallantry of the mock-heroic against that vandal Igno-
rance ; but the most of them are ideas plundered in the
anarchy of conflicting theories, — pratings, cribbed in th(^
abstraction of adverse opinion. - :;
Some of these mental offshoots may and do bear trans-
planting, and taking root, on the principle of the graft,
find sap enough in our heads to be kept alive ; and though
they become a surface growth — the ivy of wisdom only —
are both highly ornamental, and admirably adapted to
the difficulty of fastening their delicate tendrils into the
hardest and most opaque substances. But here we may
indulge the conceit suggested by the thought that, in the
■■t\
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.i. I $
lMA(iINATinN'.
211
«l«)iiiiiii<^ of this suit of a))[>ai'(;i, if Natiiri! was as ubli^ini^
to the lower orders of aniuials as witli man, we should he
treated to the e<lifyiiig spectacle of the male of the goose
assuming the ])ri]!iant ])lumaj;e of the peacock, and the
female of the hahoon decke<l out in the incomparahle
splendors of the hird of paradise. 1 do not intend to enter
into a lengthy criticpie on sucli acipiirements; while heing
capital in stock to the possessor, they are in many ctwes
the mysterious fountain of professional reverence nnd
success, and as such cannot he too highly prized or
too zealously sought after. Satisfying, in this view then,
the purposes for which they are intended, it is not surpris-
ing that, despite the imposing amount of erudition upon
which Progress and Civilization are supposed to wait to get
their authority and impetus to go on, how often we find
amongst the votaries of this species of knowledge, if not
the most bigotry, at any rate the least originality. Then,
t.oo,many minds supposed in this way to be most abundantly
enriched, are rather hampered and weighed down with a
mighty load of fossil trumpery, impeding the free activit}''
of the Imagination which, instead of being allowed to
swim, like a fish, propelled by the graceful unity and com-
bined symmetry of all its parts, is packed like a donkey
and made to climb. Thus, with a limpid sea before us, cf
myriad springs of living waters, and with the mind's hea-
ven of peerless blue, in which Imagination mirrors all the
jewelled wealth of the other starry realm, we confine our
thoughts to commerce and to skipping, like flies, over the
il
'*'.
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212
HKVKUIES OK AN <)Ll> SMUKKU.
'!' ii
<laiik, feti^l iiioistiiiii whii'li sopulclnul ay;L's have uecuiiiu-
lated in tlie foot-priiitH of pigmies!
XV.
Many tlnn<,'s we know by heart, we never took the
trouble to ascertain the meaning of, and tl»e true merit of
which had we known, we had never taken the trouble to
learn by heart. To various forms of this sort of rubbish are
we lashed, as was Moses in the rushes, and thus swathed,
are sent out into the world, not simply to battle for life,
but to perform a ceitain task wliich is to make money, and
to get j)ossession of our neighbors' property, without actu-
ally robbing him.
Tliis dowery of anticjuated lore is supposed to keep our
moral being afloat, and we are enjoined by the guardians
of our intellectual welfare to stick to it for dear life. Then,
when we are aroused later to rational consciousness, that is
the sort of stuff* to which we tind we have been clinging as
do sailors to the debris of a shipwreck. In some respects this
maybe all well enough, but in others its ludicrousness is ex-
hibited in the spectacle of people, who never see more than
water enough to wash themselves in, walking in rugged
Vv'ays miles in-land, lashed as I have said to these grotesque
moral life-preservers. Thus it is that the manners of the
Nineteenth-Century assume the characteristics of the De-
luge, and the grand avenues of our boasted free-thought
and free speech retain all the tortuous windings, which in a
IMAGINATION.
213
primitive aj^o was traced by ihi) rneainlering path of soii»o
l)lear-eye(l, crazy, old «,'oat.
While this may he regarded as an exaggeration, there
is no douht that many of the teaelungs and writings with
which we burden our memories are to <lay higldy venera-
ble specimens of obsolete nonsense — admirably adapttnl,
no doubt, to the circumstances that gave them birth, but
may we not presume they have served the purposes of
their creation, and ought to be allowed to become extinct;
instead of which, their general and eternal application to
all similar cases and recjuirements are not simply taken
for granted, but ligidly enforced. Thus, emergencies in
the lives of our piously revered ancestors, whose vicissi-
tudes partisan History in its efforts to glorify has obscured,
and who lived too long ago, eithei* to excite interest, or to
he known, are kept in a state of perpetual and mock resur-
rection. In this way, too, the crime, heroism and convi-
viality, which, together with their concomitants anguish,
cowardice, and heart-burn, that <listurbed the peace of in-
dividuals thousands of years ago, are made subjects of
religious tuition and kept alive, fostered, and moralized.
Again, if we take the man who in his early youth was
sliortened or pulled out to suit the Procrustean measure
of " useful knowledge," and has used his intellect like a
tread-mill. Is he struggling for " creature comforts ?" Well,
talk to him about the virtues of the idealistic, and you
will either excite his contempt or scare the life out of
him; at least, he will suspect your sanity or designs. He
hs^s becoipe so as to feel that anything outside the itenihi
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UKVEUIKS OK AN UlJ) SMOKKll.
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regulating his liiie and siil>Nistenoo, an«l the routiiiii of
his (k'partniuntal diitius are a " tluluMion and a snare."
Or let \\H presume he has plodded into " a fortune,"
and that all liis aspirations and efforts havt; lieen en-
listed an<l a}>sorl)ed in the work. Well, in the zenith
of his triumph he is a monomaniac, — neither can ho
stop even to taste in peace the fruits of his labor.
This man went in exclusively for tin* substantial, not
the idealistic, an<l as the incentive to exertion, so th<>
measure of the reward partakes of the nature of the body
and not of the spirit. Talk to hitn of the trophies of an ideal
realm, and you oidy excite his derision. It is true he may
ape an admiration for some things pertaining to Art, an<l
even condescend to patronize them, but his " forte" is
business and all his energies aie focussed on the prospect
of accumulating pi'ope'ty. He can't bring his cramped
abilities to bear on any thing else, an<l though not origi-
nally a brute, he has gone in for and must be satisfied
with the enjoyment of the brute.
I don't say he may not enjoy a certain amount of gra-
tification in his way, no long as his treasures stay by him,
but these do not rise above the dignity or satisfaction of
mere chattels, and on them he is as helplessly dependent
as a child. Indeed, in the case of him or any one else,
whose life objects are embodied in his possessions, loss of
property is the most pregnant source of misery. Even
though he secure his means against reverses, then, since
his wealth cannot be taken from him, he is tortured with
another still darker apprehension, — may not he be tjiken
IMACJINATION.
215
away, ki<ln>i|)pe<l a-s it w«»rc from his wealth, and removed
iKjyond all hope of re.storatioii from that which has catertMl
so fondly to his appetites. This phantom stays hy liim to
the last; ovei-shadowin^ not only his own future, hut also
that of his children, whoso liappiness ho may think, and
has taught them to feel, is dependent on tho same grovel-
ling' and penurious conditions.— Ah, it is a spoctre only to
hi3 driven away hy the lusty exorcist; of a superahunilanco
of animal, or as is most frequently the case, oi ;• roholic
spirits. So too, consistently with this man's manner of
living, the anniversary of his dissolution is tho serving
of a bountiful feast, — a most sumptuous spread of costly
plate and tempting viands — and at tho head of the tahle, in
the great arm chair of domestic state, sits enthroned a
bleaching skeleton. Then straightway, his hones are
hustled away as are the debris of a Christmas banquet, and
the routine of twixt holidays goes on.
XVI.
I have no doubt if you could have met this man in his
more clammy moments. — I mean when the steam of a
hardly contested competition had condensed somewhat —
he would have assured you in tho vacant contem})lation
of an absent mind, he was not what the world
thought him — a success. That he had made a great
mistake in life, and in his own private opinion, Ids
career had been a failure. — That business vexations, from
which ho had ever been powerless to claim exemption,
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IIKVEUIKS OF AN OLD SM()K1-:H.
had always kept, liim tlissatisfiod, perplexed, miserable ;
fai'thermore, he doubted whether there was any such
thing as happiness except in the fevered visions of extatic
dreamers.
Well, I do not favor any more than he or anybody
else the apathetic dozing away of precious life ; but
what 1 do object to is, on the one hand, the chaining down
of the mind to the exiorencies and vanities of a mere bodv-
service ; and on the other, that species of supei'ficial cul-
ture which while being the other extreme of vacant senti-
mentality, only tickles the fancy by such a mechanical ab-
sorption of the l)eautiful ideals of others as, aping the
inborn refinement of which these are the exteriial evidence,
enables us to shine, as does the moon, in the virtue of a
letlected light. What I wovdd like to see is less trafficking
in extraneous opinion and borrowed wisdom, and an ini-
l)roved growth of unsophisticated common sense and native
originality.
To bring this about we need not necessarily go to college
to be hampered with garbled versions of ancient lore ; nor
need we give up projects and employments, the further-
ance of which are nticessary for our subsistence ; but spend
less money on the body and more time on the mind. Do
not dissipate the vital forces in false excitement, but hus-
band and develop nature's wealth in tranquil meditation.
This of itself will lead on to that most important deside-
ratum of our existence, which is the cultivation of a free,
healthful range of independent thought and study. Then
without stinting the Imagination,'give all things pertain-
IMAGINATION.
217
hv^ to the ideal as much scope as possible — and this, with-
out let or hindrance on the part of those craunching, blight-
ing mill-stones, business and especially domestic affaii-s.
It alone can establish our claim, not to the paltry posses-
sion of lands and tenements, but to the universe ; and while
it raises us above the vexed repining over mean estate
and humble fare, so does it soothe the more saddening con-
sciousness of our shrivelling and ever-ailing flesh. For just
inasmuch as they become wedded to the body or the
spirit, and make the one or the other of these the chief
object of adoration, so are the poor amongst us wealthier
than the rich, and the rich poorer than penury itself.
Behold the hermit whom we see cloistered and seemingly
sequestered from the world ! Is it sanctity, " pure and sim-
ple " that eradiates his cheerful soul ^ *No ! at least, not as
we think ; he enjoys in his voluntary incarceration an
undisturbed libeity of the fancy free as the unfettered
dream of Paradise ! Aye, though the body be imprisoned,
let the Imagination sail about the air like a hawk. — It
sees in the grand ensemble of nature, outspread beneath,
the true sublimity of ( -reation ; then, too, the order
of greatness amongst the living is reversed, and while the
IVIastodons of the human race are seen wallowing in the
mire, behold, the despised insects weaving their " man-
sions in the isky," and in all the atoms that people the
air, there is a harmony of purpose which makes their in*
stinct diviner than our wisdom, ^
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218
IIKVKUIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
XVII.
«'l. \
.^1
Here we may observe, that to let these Fancies simply
" run wild," were to neglect them. I do not mean that.
Give them the appropriate means of wholesome and
agreeable expression; and, to accomplish this, Imagination
can have no more admirable or satisfying an interpreter
than music or painting. But as we observed regarding the
ways and uses of culture generally, these accomplishments,
as such, we treat as gilding or use as hacks ; and, without
the application necessary to give them the stamp of our
individuality, abandon them after a few lessons, leaving
their highera.ttainment to a few whose uevotion is esteemed
genius, and whose performances are made, to us, the hired
luxury of bodily, rather than of intellectual entertainmet.
As it is, with youthful dabblers and even older perform-
ers, the exercise and cultivation of the former and most
pleasing of these vehicles of sentiment, is made the dreaded
task of a penance, and not, as it ought to be, the soul-in-
spiring delight of a passion. Indeed, to regard those more
exquisite strains of melody, we sometime liear, as mere
acquisitions to the duller forms of conviv tij'w, is to de-
base, (as most of our pursuits incline us ' > do,) the
noblest gifts of man or brute. If, however, we may take
a hint from the more soothing and exalting effects we
know these produce, may we not presume, as claimed
herein, that in the cultivation of the idealistic generally,
we bring into grateful play the most refining influences
of the mind ; and while its exercise, in the many ways con-^
IMAd I NATION.
219
ducive to enjoyment, is not confined to music alone, never-
theless to give it tongue its language is song.
All proper minded people now-a-days say take away
your novels, take away your romances and give us what
is real. I do not intend to discuss the merit or utility of
works of tiction. They might be, though rarely are, beau-
tiful products of the imagination, and like pictured land-
scapes, are, or ought to be, true to nature, and hence no
fiction. But now, I admit, they are prostituted and pan-
der, only too often, to those cravings which revel in the
portrayal of other and more exciting scenes in the down-
ward stage of lifvj. But then, even the worst of these arc
only poultices, highly seasoned, with which we swathe
our diseased minds and bring to the surface the more
corrupt humors of the body. They deserve an item of
credit too, and sometimes serve a little good ; for like
swine, they root about, as many another more pieten-
tious radical, pointing their noses at holes in our fences.
And so viewed in an unprejudiced light may be regarded
as no worse a visitation, perhaps, than the old time curse
of frosrs and locusts.
XVllI.
Apropos of realities, however, it is but just to admit
that some of them are as pleasant as could be wished, and
would be delightful, for that matter, did not our schemes of
enjoyment overshoot their mark and leave us unconscious
of the goal, which, by the way, we may be in the midst of,
V.
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220
REVERIEfi OF AN OLD SMOKER
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but in our haste and ignorance think it far away. The
fact is, there is no royal standard to designate that particu-
lar hallowed spot, and the truth of its proximity, dawns
upon us, if at all, insensibly — most invariably, too, after we
have passed it, and when, alas, it is too late to go back.
In this connection I am reminded of one place in our
racing, steaming career where our train slacks sometimes,
and even offers, now and again, the luxury of a full stop.
It is the most genial halt on the line. Then it is we are
partially aroused from our listless indifferent state by the
shock produced in a sudden cessation of the infernal
vibration and rumble attendant on our tremendous speed
— and are brought full out of our drowsy letharg}' by
the porter shouting in stentorian tones, " Nunda ! Nunda !
twenty minutes for refreshments ! " Nunda, we exclaim
almost involuntarily, why Nunda is home ! And there is
a tremulousness in the voice in which is breathed the;
nmsic of that magic word home. Not home-in-law but in-
nature ; not the teasing invention of a later fancy, but the
original and indisputable heritage of immaculate mother
love. The old, old home, — that one embalmed in sweetest
memories of bygone days, — hallowed and saddened as time
goes on with the imperilled wealth of all its early associ-
ations, but treasured still as the <lear old moss-grown re-
miniscence of " lang syne."
In boyhood we have romped and revelled there — and
in the dust and turmoil of later years, have cleaved to
the grateful shade. In distant lands, amongst strangers
ftnd ajone we have sighed to think of th^t fair abode so
IMAGINATION.
a. W i
far aWiiy, and Weary of the fascinatious that heguilcd us
hence, have closed our eyes on grander sights to welcome
hack again the dear old vision. Is it, indeed, the old, old
home ? Yes ; the old, old home. With some, perchance, this
temple of boyhood's idolatry has passed forever away ; but
even then it is seen in imagination, where it remains up
to the veiy last — pictured in the mind. Old Age, propped
upon the elbow of declining years — watching his sun set —
sees it in the direction in which the sunbeams slant, bathed
in a flood of golden light, and in the puzzled delight of
childish rapture, mistaking it for the other Paradise, thinks
it the ineffable goal of life's troubled prayer !
Alas, how little does this sentiment affect many of us in
reality ; and on this occasion, it is appalling how coolly
and indifferently we take in the situation. "Ah, Nunda ;
— let me see, the old people live here now I believe.
Twenty minutes ! let's see, I'll just have time to drop in and
say how-d'ye do. Home right on the way — what a happy
coincidence — won't lose any time and I would like very
well to see the old folks." So we hurry away with this good
object in view. But as we pick our way in vexed bewilder-
ment through the labyrinth that environs home, we are
just the least bit irritated by an unpleasant feeling that
we are somewhat a stranger in that once familiar maze
whose puzzling ways it was amongst our earliest impulses
to explore ; and we recall, with a certain gravity and even
qualm of conscience, the long time that has elapsed since
last with tearful pang we dropped the silken thread of its
magic traceiy. , . :;
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222
llEVElllES OF AN OLD SMOKEU.
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Clam 1)0 rin<^ up the grass-grown stops leading to those once
cherished portals we seciu to cast a shadow on the porch.
Ah, it is the phantom of " Love's Young Dream," hover-
ing over the sheltered screen of its early slumber. Then,
too, that old door-bell, we think, sounds stiangely liko
Vespers, and theie are other shades gathering al)out the
place as of the twilight of waning years. Well, it may
not be so bright as memory has so often pictured it, and
yet it is the dear old hon»e still. And there is about it all a
mellow^ liaze, like unto the autunm summer, betokening
a welcome assurance of the unquenched source within of
all our boyhood love, and simshine.
There is but little time for meditation, how^ever; we soon
find ourselves in the eager embrace of "first love;" and anxi-
ous inquiries and tearful eyes greet us in the warm impulse
of genuine solicitude and affection. Then it is we feel a
slight touch of childishness,and for a moment hesitate about
throwing aside oui- coat and the other paraphernalia of our
toilsome pilgrimage. A thought creeps in, and seems more
than usually persistent in its appeal, to let our journey end
here — at least for a time. But nay ; our route shows this
to be only a " flag station " where one pulls up when he
gets a special signal, it may be, of distress. — "This our goal I
No, — it is only the place we started from and here we're
back again." Then we think, ruefully, we must have made
a mistake in our calculation to have stopped at all, and are
nearly vexed at the idea of being in such a profitless place
as home. No, we must push on and make up for what
seems lost time. But there is Mother — Heaven bless her
IMAtJINATlOX.
2l>.S
— .she who knew our likiri^\s once so well ; ami at tlio fust
glimpse of a face so (juickly renienibeicMl as ours, notwith-
standing the disguise of beard, she is <livided in the
sweet perplexity of joy at our return and tlie pleasure
she will have in the design of " something good." Tlien,
straightway she conjures up some tempting dish that with
her boys never failed to win their suffrage and their praise.
It is not necessary they should come home loaded with
presents, and followed by the plaudits of admiring multi-
tudes ; but hunted to earth — battered and broken, penni-
If^ss and hungry as they may be, and too often are, still
there is the greater wealth of gladness in getting home,
and, the son's feast is the mother's banquet.
Ten minutes have passed and we are almost getting to
dread we must so soon say " good-bye." Besides, the
old folks have so much to tell us and there is such a
treasured fund of unanswered quer}'- they would glean
from our lips. Aye, they brought us into being, and
crave, with w^istful eyes and longing hearts the welcome
boon of a fragment of our, to them, dear life's precious
story. 'Tis vain — the bt;ll rings — time is up. — We bid
the stunned and bewildered old couple a hasty adieu —
it may be their last glimpse of us on earth — and are
gone before their enfeebled minds could well have found
fit expression for their full hearts. But we have not
missed the train. — The cr}^ " all aboard " breaks the spell
of home — and again we are rushing on with a frantic, tire-
less eagerness to realize other and more lucrative stages
in the progress to our goal.
■m
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21H
|{KVKIUK.S OK AN OLD S.MoKKU.
XIX.
•111
I
Tlie florist knows the name and nature of every one of
the little wilderness of plants under his care, thougli we
commonly blend them all under the general appellation and
aspect of flowers. While the examination of each family
specimen of this blooming progeny reveals a correspon-
ding resemblance to the human plant, it is but one of the
many sublime objects offered the conscientious idealist in
the anatomy of the human mind. Indeed, the analysis of
character, presents the same delightful task as the study of
all these different varieties of bud and blossom, with the
enhanced charm of human instead of vegetable life. And
while the cultivation of the idealistic faculties, together
with that vigilant exercise of them as will keep them from
becoming blurred, tend the more strongly to define and
individualize each distinctive feature and phase of our
nature, we thus ac(iuire an appreciation of our mental
powers and resources, and therein, also, a knowledge of
self.
Ideas susceptible of being realized in this life constitute
the immediate and most pleasing incentive to action.
They incline us in the performance of nearly everything
that is said or done, and only tend, in their higher adultera-
tions, to that restless distemper we call ambition. These
ideas are identical with that most prolific element in the
mind we know as imagination — their conception being
that sensation of delight we esteem happiness. The
nobler and purer thes(^ ai-e the less exciting, perhaps, but
't <i
IMAGINATION.
22.*)
the iiiui'c exquisite the pleasure, arnl the more prolonged
the enjoyment ; and just insomuch as our aspirations glory-
in hopes and expectations which can only be realized in
another world, do we revel in those exalte<l realms of
thought to which we may consistently apply the sacred
appellation of Religion. Again, that revelation in the mind
enabling? some to realize the full fruition of thin<;.s irene-
rally found impossible of attainment, and overleai>ing in
their demonstration the commonly accepted bounds of
reason, is a conception bordering on the supernatural: —
we call it, in some cases, madness ; in others, genius ; and
this phenomenon in religion is either spurned as fanaticism
or glorified as Inspiration. ' '
There are many things we know to be not only actual
facts but sources of useful knowledge, and as such I have
no desire to undervalue them ; at any rate, we cannot
change them at will. While i many respects facts par-
take very much of the caprice of things in general, never-
theless they possess this peculiarity for constancy, viz:
they won't " budge" just when we want them to; they are
part of the heterogeneous estate of man, and many times,
alas, standing directly in our path incommode us sorely.
Indeed, how often they obtrude themselves, as grim,
mouldy walls, built in the exercise of proprietorial greed,
right up in front of our window ! — aye, reared in the legal
right of man to monopolize the air, but cutting off for ever
a most charming view of some pet-landscape.
Anticipation finds in Reality the arch enemy by whom
she is beguiled and betrayed ; he sucks her life-blood,
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IIEVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKU.
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nor is he siited till nhe becomes a corpse — then, that the
sweet ideal no longer lives becomes a Fact. Illusion may
be regarded as the dream of Anticipation — when slir
wakes her smile is gone, and when she dies she gives
]>iith to Experience: — this latter progeny assumes to br
resigned and virtuous, but is really all the time plotting t<»
revenge the mother, and for this purpose employs a spy,
which we know by the name of Doubt.
Neither /ia*^ nov reality nmy be considered incontrovert-
ible; talk of either and you confront us with the uncer-
tainty of all things, temporal as well as spiritual. True,
we see and know, in one sense, many things that actually
exist or transpire, but even then, in our relations and in-
tercourse with each other, comes in the inevitable adjunct
of which I speak, to taint the purity and to disturb the
tran<|uillity of our most confident asisin-ances. While this
seems engendered in the inexj)licable mystery of our sepa-
rate individualities, we find Friendship, Love, Divinity,
sublimest Trinity, conspiring with their subtle afHnities
and meanest opposites, in unkindly confederacy to nuise
Suspicion. — Aye, and thus, pampered and pufled till abnor-
mally plump, does that sinister trait over-lap, while yet a
cherub, the rosy bed of the world's sweetest nuptials!
Later, old and lean, and gaunt and hungry Doubt is the
vulture that sweeps down upon poor Fidelity, and, with a
rapacity worse than that which feeds on carrion, laps up
the bloom that glistens on the fresh, dewy leaves of Truth !
m"^
M< T'.>: T-'
rWAaiNATION.
XX.
227
There is a feature alnnit tlio ideal wliich it may 1)C no
more tlian fair to rival claims to mention. I refei- to that
discrepancy in the imu<^ination known as Appreliension.
This latter ([uality was intended, we mi«rht naturally pre-
Huine, to ]>e a provision in ournature to insure a judicious
amount of caution ; but, in the case of many, bad habits
and teachin*^^, and still woi*se consciences, have given it a
painfully ludicrous form and <,aowth, and then it becomes
a jungle of phantom animals, — many of the magnitude and
ferocity of the species termed " e::tinct," and as grotesque
and unreal as those of the " antediluvian period." Indeed
nothing was ever seen except in apprehension so absunl,
so unreasonable, and withal so terrible, except, perhaps,
those regal phantasms incorporated in armorial monstrosi-
ties which modern history keeps resuscitated, — aye, and
which some aristocratic Democracies still retain, in palatial
nmseums of princely pedigree, as mementos of the less en-
lightened reign of Griffins, Dragons, and Unicorns !
Assuming for the nonce the smallest animal in all the
mimic menagerie of Apprehension to be that grunting
pigmy which distinguishes Guinea; then, let this inoffen-
sive quadruped fancy itself a Colossus in whose presence
all the other and greater monsters become tame and sub-
servient and virtually lose their identity, and we shall
see typified in the most diminutive of hogs the meaner
sort of characteristic called " Conceit." Again, were I
a magician I might change all these animals into one,
•li
. 1 itn
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ti28
UKVERIF.S OK AN OLD SMOKKIl.
:.m:^;i. .:
unil, K^^'*"o '^ ^^^^ instincts of all tlio utliei*s, call it
Cliaineleon. Then, with tho craft of the fox, would be
hlentletl the confiding <;race of the gazelle ; — with the
Htrength and arrogance of the lion, the gravity and wisdom
of the baljoon ; — with the radical inipnlMes of tho porcu-
pine, the conservatism of the owl ; — an<l with all repellant
attributes of the skunk would be mixed the rtnleeminir
characteristics of the musk-rat, togt^ther with the
peculiar fascination of the anaconda ! 1 would call it
Chameleon, because of the presumption that this mongi'el
would be able to change itself into any or all the other
characters to suit the occasion; but in the phraseology we
Use to make ourselves understood, you will probably
comprehend better what this monster would be like when
I tell you in plain English it w d be Man ! — and the
female, Woman ! and their corresponding affinities in this
aspect of human traits would be Egotism and V'anity.
XXI. '■' ;
--44
In the higher ideal of life we may conceive poor Mor-
tality proceeding along lus journey, surrounded by
a queenly retinue of sympathizing spirits and goodly in-
fluences : each of these is known by a certain name, and
the absence of any one of them may be regarded as a
moral deficiency. They are incorporeal, but incorruptible,
and while they may not control, they point tho way.
\Vorking against these,however, are all the brute instincts
of the body, and the ups an«l downs of life are but the
IMAUlNATiON.
229
outward h'i^uh of the iiiaiiM'ial triiiinpliH ami deft'ato
that distinguish these opposing eluineiitH.
In the onwanl rush to rcilizc — in thn turmoil an<l
strife of this great tratHt; of life, or say ir\ the ven-
ture of some pet scheme — as we are about to plunge
forward, and are gathering our energi«;s for the spring,
we sometimes feel conscious of something nudging our
elbow ; tliere is magic in the thrill of that touch, and
a voice so soft and sweet, that it seems to blend in
the liarmony of the air whispers, — "pause, rc^Hect !" It is
Prudence !— one of the fostering band above noted — and her
duty is to watch and restrain. She may generally be
found in company with Patience, whose mission is tran-
(|uill't and contentment: and here we may observe to
think of Patience as " on a monument, smiling at grief," is
an atrocious caricature, and it is su<rh erroneous, but
graceful phrases, that give us wrong impressions of these
traits of character. She is not a goddess of lethargy, and
does not and couhl not live in apathy. Prudence
leaves her to keep us company while we wait, and were
we not blind to her winning ways, we should find her may-
be, even a pleasanter companicm than the <h>ubtful charmer
that keeps us in suspense ; but we cannot bear to tarry, we
even mistrust the agents by which we are delayed, so we
regard Patience as a decoy, and suspect and dislike her
exceedingly. Sometimes we do manage to tolerate her
after a fashion ; she is, we think, a necessary restiaint ;
but then we blame Prudence for it all, and she, we find
simply insufferable. When we go about the enjoyment
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REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
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of any thing — we may bo only going to call on some par-
ticularly agj'ceable and genial companions, or to some
entertainment of especial attraction ; — or, it may be in the
more sober course of business, to look after a speculation
or project that appeals with more than the usual force
and attractiveness to the weaker points in our nature ;
but just in the flush of animal impulse, we must needs
meet Prudence brushing past us in a contrary direction.
And then it is she turns, and motioning us aside from
the exciting throng, tries to persuade us to take some
other course, — which, by the way, is generally opposed to
that we would most willingly have taken, and very often
at shai'p and galling angles to our inclinations.
No ; she doesn't bid us godspeed on all our expedi-
tions, and still she sticks to us like a jealous spouse.
She is an imperious beauty, however, and we are
afraid to tell her to be gone ; nevertheless, we don't
like her — dread her, in fact, because she knows all
the wrong we ever did, and being about, as usual, in
good time, advised us against it. Often have we tried,
but not quite succeeded, in deceiving her, or even in
prevailing on her to take a nap. Now and then she
seems as if she would like to have us make love to
her, but she is not our peculiar style, and we can't
" warm up " to her. — Nay, there is about the phlegm of
that passionless face the cheerless complexion of polished
marble ! — her air is cold, — and her breath upon our little
floral world 's a frost ! She would freeze us, we say, and
we turn away to conjure up some genial and more glow-
, R ' ;
IMAGINATION.
231
ing picture whore un train mel led Desire cuckllef. in the
drowsy luxury of heart's-content that less prudish dame,
Indulgence.
So much do our ideas partake of the venal, we are
scarcely able to comprehend ahlessing, and are too prone
in our ignorance and selfishness to mistake good, for ill ;
hlame, when we should commend ; and lament when wc
ought to rejoice.
As with Prudence, so with all the other ways of Provi-
dence : they may, and often do, seem harsh, and cold, and
unsympathetic; nevertheless, they are ministering, nourish-
ing agents of a Love, compared with which the noblest of
our own is but a peevish fancy — a base amour. With all
the sublime consistency, then, of a great, overruling affec-
tion, do these messengers perform their silent, thankless
part, as attributes of that Higher Compassion that, in the
effort to dissuade us from wrong-doing, would, through
these means, admonish, — but failing that, the task is
yielded to a Divinity who never fails, — and that is— Mercy!
Brutalized as we are, however, we can not dis-
criminate, and our habits and perceptions are not re-
fined enough to enable us to see in the moist eye of
Providence a diamond sparkling in pity there, whose
radiance is a reflex of the celestial fount. Even while
we sleep it falls, and what seems so like a frost to
us, is the tears of an all-prevailing Commiseration de-
scending, in a gentle ineffable balm of mist, through the
slumberous twilight earthward. — To relapsed but restless,
yearning nature, it is the harbinger of renewed vital-
'?
232
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
ity. — It is repast to the homeless and shelterless of
all dumb creation, and they return thanks in the son«;
01 the night-bird, in the purling stream, and in the
plashing waterfall. — It reinvigorates the tenderest plants,
and gives to the Violets their sweetest attributes of love-
liness. — It is the magic elixir that revives the drooping
Lily, and touching the ruby lips of Roses, its kiss is their
bloom. — It settles upon the twig and it leaves — It is
breathed upon the bud and it blossoms — and in the first
ardent sunbeam of early morn, blends and expands into
the perfect Flower ! !
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I.
Apropos of those phantom spirits to which I have re-
ferred, there is one amongst them we may not forget to
notice here ; and I may say, in its behalf, if there be any-
thing that is able to make the worship of mortals espe-
cially acceptable to the Reader of Hearts, it is that one
quality to which I desire in this connection to call parti-
cular attention.
Imagination may take us to the " Pearly Gates," but to
pass the Heavenly Wicket into Paradise, it is most essen-
tial to possess the " open sesame " of a spirit whose true
virtue is known only to the Custodian of purest love : — 1
mean, Sincerity. Of all the good traits that commend us to
approbation, this one is the strongest element in our pro-
pitiation, and however defective our title to h,voY, it is oui
highest claim to forgiveness. While Sincerity alone can
make intangible thought and intention prevail over ad-
IMAGINATION.
233
verse deeds, its absence is a mortal defect in the most
graceful service, and while needing no adornment to make
it beautiful, the want of it is not atoned by the gorgeous
trumpery that embellishes its counterfeit. And here let us
observe, of that fashionably attired modern Serapis, whose
worship exalts Hypocrisy : its glory is the ostentatious
profession of a splendid creed ! — its prerogative, the pious
assumption of an organized power ! and its praise, forsooth ,
such a " Deuni Laudamus," as makes the chanting of the
most imposing hymnal a chorus of melodized antagonisms,
whose sweetest strains are but too apt to be the blending
of false tongues, and the mockery of discordant hearts.
Then, indeed^ the sublimest Te Deum is only such a skil-
ful manipulation of sound waves as conspires with the
resonant qualities of the atmosphere tomake a musical tem-
pest in the air. — The vocal accompaniment, meanwhile,
combining in such a disturbance of Nature's tranquillity,
as turns silence into uproar, and above the grinding
of the ] iodern Juggernaut,* as we listen to the mimic
" weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth," we seem
to hear the shrieks of agonized spirits aping immola-
tion through the dulcet medium of a sound-mill. God does
not hear it — Christ does not hear it — it has none of that
hallowed volatility that can make it rise — it is propelled,
and does not reach beyond the compass of our own bodily
diversion.
But if there be a voice that awakens a responsive
echo in the other world, it is that of Sincerity ; and while
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* The organ.
234
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER
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her symmetry reflected in us is the nearest likeness we
bear to the Supreme, so it is, I venture so confidently to
affirm, that the best efficacy in prayer is that nuitc
eloquence of ideal praise conceived by Sincerity in tlie
isolation of secret, silent tears : — it rises heavenwards on
the incense of an unburdened spirit, and blossoms at
the foot of the " Throne ! " — there it is breathed upon by
angels, and perfumes all Paradise ! • •
One reason for sincerity being so precious, perhaps, is
booause it is so rare. We do not possess it as a common
gift — it is lent to us — 'tis a borrowed attribute, or may
be a part of our better nature, that has undergone trans-
lation, and giving the hand back to the viler, wins it over
to confidence, love, and friendship. — Aye, 'tis that wealtli
of the most admirable which, by some kind magic, is re-
deemed from "Treasure Trove," — and out from beneath
the surface of what seems a bleak and barren soil, is
revealed the diamond, — the opal, — or that other mellow
grateful flame we see kindled from the juices of the cold
and clammy rock. _
XXIII. '
No; there is no exercise so exalting as a systematic, cheer-
ful cultivation of the ideal. While people, too, w^ho have
made the noblest use of it have been a class who would
rank in a fashionable and financial estimate as both poor
and common, we may presimie that it does not thrive only
in cases of leisure and afliuence ; and, therefore, within the
I'each of spme whose meagre allowance in other things
IMAGINATION.
235
conveys the iiupiossion they arc nut "gifted, and that their
Hfctle store of treasure, even in a hopeful view, is goinj^
through this world in bond.
The development of our corporeal inheritance may
he all very well in the attainment of muscular superi-
rity or wealth ; but then let it become, as it most gen-
erally does, the one absorbing object of existence, and
where shall we find in the whole ranire of fateful se-
(juence a more pitiable sight than the bankrupt creature
of commerce ; unless, indeed, it be that even more
saddening spectacle — the broken athlete. The former
was always dreading losses and ever haunted by the
gaunt spectre of ultimate poverty ; while in the case of
the latter, the slightest ailment is to him the dreaded
adinonisher of that greatest of all calamities, which is the
inevitable loss of his comeliness and strength. This applies
to all who set their store by property or physique. I
do not advise letting the body subserve the mind simply,
hut open the flood gates of the imagination, or at any
rate, do not batten them down ; and then basking in the
refulgent summer light that irradiates all ideal creation,
forofet the bodv altoofether.
Music, Painting, Writing, may be mentioned as a few
of the many pleasant hobbies offered the imagination to
dwell upon; and we may, by these means, acquire healthful
resources of pure enjoyment which, while they may not
he dissipated are infinitely more profitable to our moral
being and ]ieace-of-mind than the most successful money-
m£^,king. In^leed there is no subject viewed in this light
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236
KEVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
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that does not offer an always increasing fund of whoU'-
soine attraction to counteract the too engrossing cares of
business, besides combining therewith, such retrieviii<f
graces as assuage those other more grievous bereaveiuonts
incident to life.
We may note, however, that to humanize the Imagin-
ation we must give it heart, and to individualize it w<;
must give it thought. While it is commendable to emulate,
we must admit, it is far nobler to originate, and better
even by hard thinking to bring into the world an indif-
ferent pattern, than by sheer force of copying to ei[uii\
the finer standard. Persevering in this spirit the reward
of our exertion comes rather in the effort than in the
result, and hours, days, months, years glide smoothly and
happily by. We may be carrying forward other work,
but then we should not be so impatient to realize, as
otherwise we would be and are, in concentrating all our
faculties on the mere dice by which money is lost or won.
■■'■ ■:-:■■ '-; XXIV.
The counsel herein contained may seem visionary and
impracticable ; I believe, nevertheless, it is not, and that
my view of the case is sustained by actual experience, as
illustrated by innumerable examples in the careers of our
noblest and greatest men. There is no doubt the relaxa-
tion of spirit Disraeli enjoyed in his writings and ideal
creations, was, and is still in retrospect, his greatest source
of pleasure and consolation, and not only the true secret
of his prolonged existence, but at the same time such an
IMAGINATION.
237
inipoi'taiit auxiliary to his power aii<l usefulness, as has
conduced, in no ijniall measure, to his otlier successes.
Besides, too, is it not one of the finest traits in this man's
cliaracter, that beset, as he has always been, by so many
perplexing cares, he could so far to dismiss them all
as to be enabled in the midst of Hubbub to invoke Sere-
nity, and using his pen as the visible emblem of his ideal
witchery, to disclose the hidden and abundant riches of his
harassed mind (but exhaustless imagination), in a flow of
sentiment so graceful and satisfying as that which peico-
lates through " Vivian Grey," "Coningsby," or " Lothair !" —
Again, how little did Milton think about or care for his
Ijjindness in that resplendent vision and gorgeous revela-
tion of ' Paradise Lost!" — Ah, and how oblivious was Byron
to the soreness of his love or lameness, in the sweeter
amour and symmetry of the " Corsair ! " — as far from
native land, — on the crest of passion's billow, he smites
tlie pent up pinnacle with an ideal wand, and the breath
of the tempest, gathering up the disgorged wealth of
" deep blue ocean," scatters broadcast that lustrous shower,
whence in poetic sorcery is reclaimed only the glinting
splendor of the spray ! In the prodigality of imagina-
tion, those grosser jewels that will not float in air are left
to sink to earth, and naught is treasured butthose super-
nal tints that give to the magic mirror of the Mist the
})eerless image of its Rainbow.
Again, what mattered it to Tom Moore, that the nig-
gardly estimate of his market value drove him Avell nigh
to beggary— that in the midst of plenty he hungered — •
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with a sumptuous 1)an([uet, like his " mt'lodies," set for
the world !
So, too, of poor Bobbie Burns ; with his nei^^dibors and
(only since his death, his idolatrous) countrymen heap-
ing slandei"s on his head, he could be so blissfully in-
different to it all and so happy in introducing dear oM
*' Tam," that while all Scotlpnd scolded, he, the outlavvi'd
Burns, could retort upon them and their children, only
with such kindliness and good fellowship as —
*' Care, mad to see a man sa happy,
E'een drowned himsel amang the nappy,
As bees flee hame with lades o' treasure,
The minutes winged their way wi' pleasure ;
Kings may be blessed, but Tam was glorious
O'er a' the ills of life victorious." '
Or take Goldsmith, — Enijfland's <jreat hearted vajxrant anil
the world's "prince of poets!" — he who,amid the sneers and
contempt of the more industrious devotees of pious job-
bery, could record sentiments so beautiful, so sublime as
blend in the harmonious song of the " Deserted Village."
Aye, how much nobler was his " shiftless " preparation for
the final end, meandering down into the " vale " with siuli
thoughts thrilling through his soul, tingling in his heart,
and vibrating on his lips, as come to us like the distant
chime of monastery bells, in a strain so sweet as that
which tells of that once fair Auburn : —
" When oft at evening's close, _:
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ;
There, as l pass'cl with careless steps and slow.
The mingling notes came soften 'd from below ;
1MA(}INATI0N. 230
Thu Hwaiii respoiiHivo an the milkmaid HUiig,
Tho sober hurd that lowM to moot tliuir youii{{ ;
The noiay geese tliat gabbled o'er the pool,
The playful children just let loose from school ;
The watch dog's voice thr.t bay'd tho whispering wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ;
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
And tillM each pause the ni;.'htingale had nuide.'*
And then, too, in lapse of time, of its desolation, in that
exijuisite lament, wliich hespeaks at once the illusicm ami
disencluintment of youth and old aj^e. Alas ! it was only
the dream of a vanishe<l abode and the exile returning to
realize the vision that solaced long years of banishment,
finds his goal a solitude, and pillowing his hijad upon a
stone, thus repines :
'* In all my wanderings round this world of care,
In all my griefs — and God has given my share —
T still had hopes my latest hours to crown,
Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ;
To husband out life's taper at the chjse,
And keep the Hame from wasting by repose :
I still had hopes, for pride attends us stil),
Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'd skill ; ^
Ar«)und my fire an evening group to draw,
And tell of all I felt and all I saw :
And, as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue,
* Pants to the place from whence at first he Hew,
I still had hopes, my long vexations pjist.
Here to return — and die at home at lusty
"■■ ,- XXV. /. . :,-.-'"
~ Here we may observe, apropos of the cases instanced
above, that it is erroneous to consider all mere bodily dis*
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240
REVERIES OV AN OLD SMOKER.
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comfoitor pain, su Muring, — at least in that crude sen.se in
which we coiiniioiily regard ami [>ityit jukI hoM'cveroj*-
pOHed our circumstances nuiy be to the hackneye<l notion
of enjoyment, thcjre is, or may be through the medium of
tliat higher intellect pertaining to my theme, a source of
deliglit that can make us indifferent and oblivious to mere
physical drawbacks. Many fallacies of laute creation,
tending to a wrong im[)ression of what is happiness, ob-
tains from such a})petizing propensities as liave pictured
a land " flowing with milk and honey," and a paradise
peopled with amorous maids. To corroborate the truth
of this, we have only to invoke the shades of that carnivo-
rous tribe who was kept wandering an indefinite period in
order that the people thereof, while being admonished of
their error concerning an eaiiihly " Eldorado," might dis-
abuse their minds of the monstrous assumption then ob-
taining, that the higher Kingdom of God should he
prostituted to gratify the lowest propensities in man.
Then, allowing their conception of the blessed goal, chas-
tened and elevated by long and severe ordeal, to have
attained the nobler perfection of the true ideal, it is in
accord with the policy herein advocated, that the realization
should have been deferred, and by making their " pro-
mised land " an ever receding mirage, the so called " Chil-
dren " had been saved the more pitiable catastrophe of
disenchantment. So, Moses, whom we all commiserate
for not having reached the delectable region which his
imagination and eloquence had so often depicted, was
more blessed in the exile of his mountain retreat than all
y • m
IMAGINATION.
241
the I «8t ot Israel. Nay, it is pKuMing, as well to the instincts
of humanity as to the purposes of illustration, to assume
that the mis;,'uioie(l good man in ({uoHtion, experienced in
liis denial and hanishnient, not the wrath of the Maj^ter as
we are led to Iwlievc, hut a prolongation of that ideal feli-
city that made the whereabouts of the body a secondary
consiiloration, — aye, and his spiritual destiny a gladsome
])erspective far exceeding any tiling in the exuberant fancy
of the tlesh !
I have referred to Bunyan in another place ; but apro-
pos of Imagination, T would for the sake of illustration
once more recall the spirit of the venerable Evangelist, as
it shone in the night of its greatest apparent travail.
]jet us go back to the time when Bunyan lived, and
take a peep at him in his incarceration. This picture has
been drawn so many times it is in the minds of all, and I
will not reproduce it here; but it strikes me we need not
sympathize with him in his lonely cell, when v/e consider
how his mind was employed. Ts it possible he could have
been unhappy with such ideas teeming in his brain as
inspired Pilgrim's Progress ? Nay, we may sympathize
with him, but pity him — never ! There was a feast in the
creation of that Work of his, which made bread and water,
and the hard desert of a donjon, a treat that the gourmands
of Jjouis Fourteenth might be teased with the dreamy ink-
ling of but never realize ! — aye, that the gluttons, who
basked in the glowing zenith of Imperial Rome, might envy
Ijut nevei attain ! Indeed, their pleasure, in comparison
with hLs inspiration, had made the most delightsome
nil
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242
JltVfcUlKS Ol: AN OLD hMuKKU.
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raptuiH^ i)f tlie Hesh, simply pining in ftinai and its
HweieHt thrillH conciotiMcd all into unu ox([ui.slti3 pang u
— Yaum !
Or, to bring my illustration nearer liome, to mark
t.he ditterencc between the material and tlie ideal,
what a i)0or famishe<l pro<luct must be the grand work
above contemplated when contrasted with that prolific
luxury of thought of which it h, comparatively speaking,
the barren, puny «)ffspring ! At the same time, how ad-
mirable, how iiiHnite, how (Jod-like does the Imagination
jippear when in the most brilliant efforts of man to ma-
terialize he seeks to clothe it in the mean garb of
language ! It is throwing a dirty veil of cloud over the
" starry litter of the moon 1" Then, too, while the interval
between each of these celestial gems is spanned by mil-
lions of miles of hidden splendor, nevertheless, as here
and there, twinkling through the vapory bank, we dis-
cern one solitary baby smile, it is in rapture we exclaim,
— " how oautiful are the Heavens \"
There is an elasticity about the mind — a volatility
about thought — that bids defitince to language ; and
the effort to catch the glowing rays of transient vis-
ions that pass in regal bewildering pageantry be-
fore us, offei^s to the most skilful adept and to the
most nimble play of words, oidy the poor, barren re-
compense that comes of the child's grip on the brittlt;
mirror of some giant bubble. Aye, it is the condensed
puddle of a dispelled rainbow ! Applying such an esti-
mate as this, then, to an imagination whose puddle is a
lMA(i I NATION.
243
Pilj^riin H Pro^ni'ss, ati«l it gives us a )»roa«lor, U»ttor con-
ception of a mind and an attrilmto, which it may )iavo
seonied we were praising over tioridly.
XXVI.
In conclusion, we may notice that one of th«^ most
seductive of all the luilliant progeny of Imagination is,
that sweet etherial creature we call Illusion. She is all
the more dear, too, strange to say, hecause she is deceitful;
one trait in her angelic nature heing that what in the
meaner characteristics of our poor mortality had heen a
fault, with her is a virtue. She is nearly allied to Charity,
and her mission Is as the sun-heam from the mother-orh,
and her smile to brighten and to soothe.
What was hopk in youth, later, is saved from Dl-
SPAIR by becoming illusion, and in age, still vain of
what we no longer possess we cleave to the grateful
cheat : Thus many charming features which in Reality
have vanished forever away, are reclaimed in Tmngina
tion, and we cherish the phantom till it almost seems a
Fact. The allusions of h(;althy people are almo^t
always pleasant, and even in tlu? case of those who
are ill, the most consoling of all comforters; insomuch
that, even in the last stagesof " Cijnsumption," we play-
fully dickey with Destiny for a new lease of life, and
to the end enjoy the unctious balm of thinking all is
well. Blessed are these illusions; they are tlu; holi-
days of the soul, and, an) id all the threatening ordeals
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244
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
fff«
that frown upon us, lend sunshine to hearts that would
laugh and be gay. — Aye, and from this ideal realm of bliss
to earth and reality, we drop into a purgatory of tiesli
and pain.
XXVII.
EPILOOUE.
Do you see that poor old mendicant woman there,
lying prostrate just off the high-w^ay ? See ! she with the
bleached locks and tattered laiment, with her bare head
pillowed on that mean old bundle. I saw" her not long
since as I passed ; she was sitting up then and looked so
worn and miserable and sad. I noticed, too, she had taken
something from her pack and was regarding it so intently
she did not see me although I was quite near. No doubt
it was a keep-sake, or something of that kind; because 1
was certain I saw tears in the poor old thing's eyes — but
then, what a luxury there must have been, even in the
briny Hood, it seemed bring of mellowing, dissolving recol-
lections ! Those precious tears ! — Crystal drops of nature's
balsam, that follow the cold iron and jagged gash wrought
in the hard knocks of the world ! But behold her now, —
prone and tram J uil, — and see too, what a placid almost happy
look ! Ah, what potent pacific could have breathed its
drowsy incense over that perturbed spirit, — what soothing
spell, — that with all the gladsome obliviousness of sleep,
there should be mingled such a rejoicing sense of perfect
wakefulness. She seems not to know she is cold, and tlic
IMAfU.VATrOK.
245
chill aiituimi }iir of fiiomllcssnuss iiii<l poverty lias vcored
around. The trance may have lasted but a minute, hut in
tluittime what a grateful metamoiphosis! The keen No-
vember blast tugging at those white hairs, is to her, now,
only the soft aroma of June — and see how those seared and
battered lineaments relax ! — that liad been a smile on any
other face, on hers, it's more a look of pain — a strange
anomalous look, as of an aching heart s'lULjing to smile
at the pleasures of others who repine. J'ii)).: and trouble
have long since placed their dreaded seal upon that
shrivelled cheek; and now, we see only t] ^. wintery aspect
where once the roses bloomed. That look — that sort of
smile — may once have been a mirthful ringing laugh ! —
that form, elastic and comeh'^, — and she, have coquetted in
all the playfultyranny of conscious beauty. But what is she
thinking of now, I wonder — what vagary of "bitter sweet"
in that absent mind — what tender thoughts of loved and
lost make that expression so pathetically divided twixt
smilesand tears. — What rummaged leaves were those she
turned? — what impressof sweet memories saw she there? —
revealed in the light of long ago, — but pictured on that
broken tablet and retained in life gloaming, — as autumn
foliage, in decay, takes and holds the fairer tints of sum-
mer skies ! Ah, I have it now ! — The magic of an invisi-
ble hand has beckoned her back, and now she is with
that little prattling one, seen again through a long vista
of troubled wanderings. — And how she beams upon and
fondles it as of old — that fair, laughing, dimpled cherub!
And how completely forgotten are all those tearful years
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REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
he has l)(3en laid away in tliat cra<lle i'ucke<l by angels !
Nay, how beautiful is the mercy shed upon her now — how
grateful the respite of that dream, in which her old eyes
behold, in the full glory of her blushing pride, that tender
blossom which, in the hey-day of her girlish joy, she
pressed to her lips and inhaled in its sweet, fresh frag-
rance, the first dawning consciousness of mother-love!!
Is it only a dream ? Yes ; a mere Illusion ; — hut do not
wahe her, let hey filer 2> ! , i ,
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FOR some time previously T had been looking forward
with considerable eagerness to the 10th of March,
on which day at Chiselhurst a gi'and fete was to take
])lace in celebration of the coming of age of Prince Louis
Napoleon, heir in exile to the throne of Franc(\ It
had been made for some time before coming off* the sub-
ject of editorials in the newspapers, besides being com-
mented on a good deal in a (juiet way, and really it might
be looked forward to, it seemed to me, as one of the great
])olitical events of the day. Under the circumstances,
1 was l>ound nothing should prevent my being there.
On the morning of the sixteenth I got away early, as
liad some distance to walk to reach the station of the
South-Eastern Railway, but made a miss nearly at tlie
outset, and lost the train at Sydenham Hill. Having over
an hour to wait, I put in the time in an easy stroll to
Penge, the next place en route, after which, taking the
down express at 10.20, had a quick, pleasant run to Bickley,
Getting off at the very pretty station which dots the line at
ft.
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'Written some time before the death of the Prince Imperial.
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REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
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this point, my further destination wjis indicated hy a
church .spire, glintin<^ in tlie sunlight, away to the left a
cotiple of miles. This offered another enjoyable opportunity
for a "constitutional," and after half-an-hour's hrisk exer-
cise I came in sight of ( 'amden Place, where the Bonapartes
reside. On nearing tlie town many signs of a fete-day
attracted my notice : there was that hurrying to and fio
which denotes in these rural solitudes something unusual,
and that enquiring look on the faces of many that
evinces both the presence of strangers, and the expectation
of something especially interesting about to transpire.
What struck me, also, as a somewhat novel sight was the
French " Tricolor," which was flying in a number of
places, — there being (|uite a little colony of Imperialists
living at this time at ( -hiselhurst. It was the first time, 1
think, I had ever seen this banner, except perhaps in
some fantastic display ; but now it was hoisted by tlu*
devoted followers of that identical party, and unfurled in
honor of the nearest living representative of that extra-
ordinary genius, whose pride and prowess, whose ambition
and triumph, have made it the most famous and popular
emblem in French history. I was not long in ascending
the gentle acclivity leading to the picturesque, gorse-
covered plateau above : this forms an attractive common,
at the w^est corner of which is Camden Place.
My first glimpse of this now famous dwelling, impressed
me with its being an extremely fine old homestead ; and al-
though the l^uilding itself may lack some of the more
superfluous attributes of a^randeur, these are all the moie
CHISKLHURST.
251
suUstaiitially cunipensatocl for in the general sunoundin<jfs,
Tlie grounds to the rear arc slo})ing, and sink grachially
down to a valley beyond, in a magnificent sweep of rich,
undulating meadow an<l timber-land ; in the interval of
which is unfoMed to our refreshed and gladdened vision,
a pleasing variety of rural scenery, framed, as it were, in
a continuous wealth of superb, English landscape. Not the
least, too, of the worth)' living features in the prospectjan*!
grazing and feasting on the royal spread of ten<ler horbage,
are the flocks of fine sheep and blooded cattle, the^ like of
which one sees nowhere except in this favored land of
merry England. The house itself is surrounded by, and
almost hidden away behind, a deep, sombre rampart of
rich, dark foliage, — the splendi<l product of a grand array
of j)rolific elms and oaks, that stand guard over and hedge
it round ; constituting a fitting syml)ol of that benignant
hospitality, that makes this place a safe and princely
asylum as it is of royalty and exile.
On my arrival, 1 found a great crowd of pe(^ple gathered
about — some on horseback, many in carriages, but mostly on
foot, and the road through the common to St. Mary's Chapel
waswell lined on both sides all alongthe way forhalf-a-mile.
Inthis little chapel, which is a perfect gemin its way, are de-
posited the remains of Napoleon III. I had lieen there before
and seen within the alcove to the left of the aisle, the place
where the Emperor lies entombed ; but on this occasion
the church was so crowded I made no attempt to squeeze
in, though much desired to have a glimpse of the ser-
vices being performed there. As it was, made haste to
Pi
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252
REVERIES i)F AN f>M) SMOKER.
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return to CaiiKlcn Place, and .strai^j^litway found luy.self
liesct by a new obstacle. I had beard somewhere before
this late liour, that admission was to be regulated by tiek«'t,
but I always avoid bothering myself with that sort (»t
thing when I can lielp it, so the matter of looking after
this little technicality went by default. 1 afterwards as-
certained, however, that these permits were oidy granted
through favor to those who intended making the pil-
grimage from France to the Napoleonic shrine, and who
being no <loubt interested in the restoration, were, as a
matter of course, people of more or less political and social
importance. 8o possessing none of these qualifications
my petition as an outsider, on the ground of mere idle
cui'iosity, might not after all have been entertained.
Now, however, I began to labor under the disagreeal»le
consciousness that my not having a ticket would be likely
to interfere somewhat, and that considerable might be de-
pending on this little flaw in my arrangements. I con-
fess my apprehensions were far from being soothed, when
on approaching the main gates I saw the great crowd fac-
ing those frowning and inhospitable portals ; there, too, as
a reinforcement to these towering barriers of iron, was an
even tougher-looking line of policemen, standing guard,
and turning rudely and peremptorily away, all but the
lucky ones who could flourish what was now become a
very interesting novelty in cards. I had never before been
in such a hot- bed of French men and women and r/ar{'ov^
as I now found myself. Not a word of English could he
heard ; I spoke to several, but they only shook their heads.
CHISELHI'KST.
253
Hoys were selling French papers, luulges, hunches of vio-
lets and photographs — all in French, and it was for all the
world as it' I had plii?npe(l right down into the midst of
the excited populace of Paiis, and a inoh at that. There
was a motley crowd of, comparatively speaking, long-
shore ritfratf, who had lik«' myself, made the mistake of
thinking their physiognomy would pass them ; but the
mid-current, winding in sluggish uninterrupted progress
through this outer fringe, all, without exception, had
tickets. I observed this with a sinking heart and it ma<le
my chances seem more as they had been from the first, —
that is to say, the slimmest and bluest. At the same time
it was aggravating to see how can^lessly and indifferently
these other people handled their cards,and to note the magic
tluence those bits of pasteboard had on the iron visage and
stony heart cf the police officials who received them : ah,
liow precious they seemed to us, those cherished [)ass-
ports to the inner shrine of imperial exile.
II.
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I did not try actually to force my way, because I saw
others try it, and become suddenly and effectually dis-
a|)pointed ; found too, that coaxing, and a modest "tip"
generally so fertile in the opening u}) of ways and means,
were here of no avail, and then I began to feel very despon-
dent indeed, but all the moie anxious to get in. In short, T
found the ord(;r in regard to tickets imperative, and
1 igidly and cruelly enforced, and as a natural consecjuence
1 .
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254
RKVKRIKS OF \N OLD SMOKKR.
I was bitterly chagrined, and disappointed. They nixy
•' misery likes company," and according to that I ought to
have ))een liappy, from the numV)er .similarly situated to
myseli ; at least there was consolation in knowing I was
not alone. There was a host of peo|)le 1 now discovered
of various nationalities, w ho had come in from London)
probably as I had, to this feast — some with two or three
ladies apiece, and all lookin<^ dismayed and crushed.
A bright idea struck me ; and suddenly and secretly ex-
ultant, I sank my hand deep into my pants' pocket, and
drewforth a talisman in the shape of a cai'd case. Ah ! what
a great thing it is to be thoughtful and wise — and after all
" what's in a name I " • T simply put in additi(jn to mine,
United 8t os of America, and naturally thought it would
take lik( hot cakes ; but I reckoned, alas, without mint'
host. All intent on the succ« ss of my little enter-
prise I had not noticed a great number of others em-
ployed in the same way. By dint of most praise wort) ly
))erseverance, and all soits of dumb-show, managed to
beckon towards me. an old fellow who was looking on
from within, and no doubt watching with self gratulation
the chagrin, and wretchedness of those outside in the
cold. Got him pretty well in reach of my fond embrace,
and stuck my card under his nose with the modest re-
quest that he would take it to — not the Empress but
some})ody — anybody — was not particulai whom ; even in-
sinuated he might keep it himself if- well, J had got
quite as far as that, when a tremendous rush was nifi'l*'
for my place, and my man ; and such a flourish of cards,
MIIHPLHIRST.
255
and HUel. a clamor ot* tongues, in a score of ditt'fn'nt hui-
jifuagea 1 never heanl before.
I gently reproved and exjxjstulated, and lost no time
in trying to reinforce my (^laini to precedence under tho
un^wpular rule of one at a time, but only o\erawe<l two
or three deep of the foremost tiles ; those btliiud were be-
yond the power of persuasion, and on they came like mad.
The would-be bearer of my compliments made a rush
back for dear life ; and 1 made a frantic viYort to rescue
my hat, which I caught a glimpse of drifting away over
a sea of heads. When I got all together again — still out-
side, but gazing wistfully insi<le — I riveted my eye on the
same old chap in whom I thought 1 had detected a glim-
mer of interest in my attairs ; but it was no use to beckon
him any more ; he no doubt felt he had had a narrow
escape from being mobV>ed, and not unlikely did me tho
injustice to think I had wantonly abused his ctmtidence.
Well, I retired a short distance and sought solace in
glowering u{)on my competitors in tlie ci'owd, which by
this time had meekly subsided. N( ticed a few who
were so fortunate as to be chaperons, taking the advice
of their female comforters, but 1 was not blessed in
that way ; and the first thing I did after recovering my
presence of mind, w^as to put away my little cai-d, which
by this time, I need not add, I was somewhat ashamed of.
Held it w^ith becoming modesty under my coat-tail— a
course which 1 innocently ado})ted as most eft'ectually to
conceal it from observation, and to enable me to produce it
at a moment's notice. It was about this time I discovered
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additional proof tliat 1 ha<l not been a pioneer in this new
<l(wl^e pertaininjjf to tlietani huHinesH, and it was not lonj;
liet'on' I detected several of those around holdin^^eardsinliki!
manner. The speetaele disgusted me too miieli to persevere
longer in so mean an tixpedient ; it was ludierou.s emm^'h,
though, that it miglit have been amusing, but for the
thought of my luird fate ; meanwhile we all looked <h'!nun^
enough, and a band of music striking up about this tiiiu;
set us all oft' ay:ain.
It was not till I had decided upon the sensible plan of
going home, and thus avoiding any further aggravation in
the nuitter, that I betliought me of a lane which led away
round one side of the estate — I had been through it once
before on the way to Shortlands — why not make a Hank
movement, I asked myself, and come up in the rear i No
sooner said than <lone — I slipped (piietly away. Feaiv<l
the place would be guarded, but luckily for me it was
not; so, passing thiough to the right-rear of the grounds,
I completed tlie detour by crossing over to the other side,
through a ravine, to the cover of a clump of trees, whirli
I now had between me and the rabble. So far 1 had met
with no opposition : in crossing the fields, it is true, I start-
led half a dozen lazy looking cows out of a pleasant
trance — they Hirted their tails and stared at me languidly,
but relapsed very soon into their accustomed trancpiil-
lity, and I left them in the drowsy luxury of a stand-u})
dream.
Seeing my way fairly clear now, and my game well in
hand, my anxiety abated somewhat, and I decided to have n
CmSKMfrRST.
i':»7
bit of Mofiu'tliiiijj to eiit, in ciih<5 then? iiii;(!it not iMMinntlinr
Ko j^oo<! a chance. I liad taken tho pnM'aution to ln*in^
along a j^ooil supply of provtMulor, an«l tiuni(i<( my atten-
tion for a short tini«^ exchisively to my sainlwich«'M,
made short work of them and started on a;^ain. My pUin,
of course, was to i^ain an entrance hy the j^arden in the
rear. Luckily I hit fairly upon the wicket h'adiri;^ to my
f^oal, and hed<^o an<l sln'ul> disouisiui; my movements,
I threw back the holt — walked very delil)erately in, ami
then, ** Richard was himself again ! "
III.
It was not without a thrill of pleasant emotion that I
now found myself within the private grounds of her Im-
[)erial Majesty. T did not stop to apostrophize, hut pro-
ceeded along slowly, taking a close and leisurely survey
of everything that fell within the rang*' of my nuich
favored vision. At first it was a sort of tiny forest, a
miniature JJois de Buulotrne, after which cam** the evi-
deuces of a less sturdy but even more beautiful growth.
Indeed the grounds were much more extensive and finer,
than I hael anticipated. Splendid trees, rare shrubs
spring Howers, greeted the eye on all sides, and turn
which way you would, you saw, here a rustic arbor,
ingeniously modelled, tempting one to linger and rest —
or there, a charming grotto, all arched over with blos-
soming vines and thick, dark foliage, whei'e the dazzling
rays of a noonday-sun were tempered to the soft, grateful
twilight of eventide! All fascinated the eye and beguiled
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RKVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKFH.
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the senses with a delicious feeling- of enjoyment, whicli I
felt to a great degree was owing to the spell cast over
everything that conies within the influence of two ningic
vords — Napoleon — Eug<3nie.
I saw a good many devotees plucking flowers and leaves
to cany back to France as souvenirs ; managed, m3'self, to
get a few violets,and then, after a short time most pleasantly
spent, passed along to the lawn, and mixed with the throng
assembled there. Many were promenading, others sitting
or standing around in groups, and all in animated conver-
sation, of which I was not at a loss to guess the purport.
I was, indeed, in the very midst of the Bonapartist camp,
and looking about me felt, not without a tingling soni*>
where, and a slightly quickening pulse, I was among the
children of the " Old Guard," and cheek -by -jole with the
family of the " Little Corporal !" Aye, there was I, liter-
ally hemmed in b}^ a host of battle-tried heroes, who,witli
their domestic retinue, composed probably the most influ-
ential and devoted of all the faithful defenders of the Im-
perial cause.
Amongst these were men and soldiers, distinguished in
})olitics and in war. "Jlie former, representing in the higli-
est degree the jjersonnel of what was a short time befoie,
the most accoin})lished and brilliant civic establishment in
Europe, or the world ; the latter, the dismembered fugi-
tive elements of the most splendid martial array of anei-
ent or modern times. Nor was I unmindful of the fact
that there v/ere titles walking about there, which, with
their princely accessories and noble estates, had been
gleaned from the classic soils of Italy, and Syria, and
rfllSRLTIURST.
250
%ypt, fiMiits of the gory Holds of Maivngo, and Acre,
an<l the Pyramids. There, too, were the latest scions
of distinguished families, who could have joined hands
in legitimate consort, and hohnohbed in kindred suc-
cession, and recognised each other back to the dim age
when chivalry only began to dawni, and France to learn
that art in war which has won her, as mistress, imj)urish-
able renown. All who were not present in person were
represented, we may be assured, by worthy substitutes,
who 'J I did not know, the Prince and Empress (I noticed
later) did, an<l received most cordially. The reading of
an address to the Prince and his reply came oft* in a
large tent provided for the purpose ; but I was too late
for that, and missed the aggravation it would otherwise
have been to me, not to have had a front seat, where I
could have devoured, with greedy eyes, the whole Bona-
parte family. As it was, by dint of a little effectual elbow-
ing, inflicted with an apprc priate air of absent-mindedness,
I succeeded in securing a glimpse of the distinguished
personages as they crossed the lawn on the w^ay back into
the drawling-room. After this the Prince and Empress
were to receive deputations from the different depart-
ments of France, all of which were represented ; a num-
ber of others, also, were to receive the honor of presenta-
tion. Many of these were influential politicians and gal-
lant officers, who had stood together in high places under
the Emperor. They formed in procession and went in by
sections. Many wore decorations — the '' Legion," especi-
ally, being well represented ; and all bore with becoming-
decorum the somewhat-trying scrutiny of the tremendous
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REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
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crowd looking on from outside a line wliicli bad Ikm n
stretched round two sides of the hoi'se, to keep the >vay
clear leading to the entrance.
I, too, watched these once pampered favorites of for-
tune, now temporarily discarded, and regarded each coun-
tenance with an interest and sympathy most reverential
and profound. Some bore the marks of hard-fighting and
rough-service; all were in plain clothes, although many still
belonged to the army, and had come over incognito on ac~
count of an order of the French War-Department, forbid-
ding their officers to be in England between the twelfth
and twentieth of March. A great many carried bou-
quets, — some, wreaths, with here and there a banner ;
all looked unutterable devotion and determination and
seemed regardless of everything but the one precious
thought that they" were about to pay their " devoirs "
to their beloved Empress, and ofi'er anew their unaltered
allegiance to the Prince and sovereign hope of all. My
attention was divided between this spectacle and the
doors and windows of the house, through which I tried
in vain to catch a glimpse of what was going on within ;
but we were too far off to distinguish anything, and I
now began to feel a mortal craving curiosity to see the
interior or even to obtain a glance into the hall. The
thought had suggested itself, whether I might not wedge
into some part of the procession and get a look in that
way ; I wondered what might be the result of such an
undertaking, but dismissed the idea as being too hazard-
ous. It seemed altogether too pokeiish — was afraid that ior
CHISELHURST.
261
•:(
a novice like ine to join the " Legion of Honour," without
the appalling initiation of powder and shot and imperial
compliment, might involve the asking of a few ombnrras-
siug questions, which would make things uncomfortably
liot, and the upshot of which would most likely he, I should
have to walk precipitately back, with the countless eyes
of a gaping multitude fixed in derision upon me.
It was too distressing to think of ; still, good Dame
Fortune had been very accommodating thus far, and I
was rashly tempted to task her indulgence a little
further ; besides, now that I thought of it, I really
liad some claim in the award of privilege to martial
honors. Had I not had my " baptism of fire ? " jew-
elled decorations might rank first, but barring these,
ugly scars, won in honorable conflict, might pass, under
a clean shirt, ai>iong old soldiers; and if hard pressed
I could bare my bosom and point to a syndjol there
well known in the masonry of warriors — aye, one which
speaks in a language the tongue may not utter, a tribute wel-
come with the brave, and means, though the words be not
expressed, " gagne au champ d'honneur ! " Yes I that is all
very fine to think of, but at the same time it appeared
pleasanter in reverie than in practice. In the meantime
1 ol)served they did not all seem ac(iuainted with each
other, — at least, each, for the most part, kept silent and to
himself; besides there was more or less confusion till they
got near the entrance, all of which seemed in favour of my
passing in amongst them without being challenged. In
fact, it was naturally taken for granted no one would
venture to intrude without some special claini to impeiia]
>velcome.
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UEVElllES OF AN OLD SMOKEK.
I reconnoitred about sometime for a favorable chance
to get through inside the rope ; my curiosity mean-
while getting stronger, I was beginning to feel impatient
and fool-hardy enough for any thing. About this time
I noticed there was a nairow opening where the different
deputations went in, and an imposing-looking genius
stood there with pencil and paper passing them through
and keeping tally; but sometimes four or five would
push on by in their impatience, without ))aying mucli
if any attention to the excited functionary who guarded
the breach. I was not long in perceiving that this was the
particular style and example I must endeavor to emulate ;
and led on by a cold-blooded audacity I never knew be-
fore I was capable of, edged up close, got a good ready,
and when the next rush in that way was made, was borne
inside ; a Frenchman on my right and left and one be-
fore and behind. In this order we all moved forward
half-way to the entrance door, under the admiring gaze of
the folks outside ; whose homage I now enjoyed, or rather
was compelled to submit to, on a par with the rest.
V.
Our progress was anything but lively ; the head of our
column would advance from time to time as the way
cleared, and we in the rear would close up smartly as
chance offered. It was literally a "stern chase," and
even worse than the proverbially " slow one ; " intensified
perhaps in my case, T)y that unusual strain on the nervous
system, incident to onv 'P jay |;yr ular situation, and this
CHISKMIUHST.
203
was tar from soothed in perceiving or fancying a certain
anioiint of i)olito inquisitiveness about me.
Up to this time, I had had veiy little hope of getting
throiidi. Was in constant dread, and all alon^^ watchinor
with a restless eye and troubled s[)iriteach shifting move-
iin'iit of the crowd ahead; expecting each moment to see the
writhing monster resolve itself into the grim spectre of out-
raged propriety, and to behold the glimmering, beguiling
prospect before me transformed into a scroll, whereon I
sliould read in blighting characters, the dreadful warrant
for my expulsion. After turning the first corner of the
house to the left, it came my turn to pause befoie a window
tliere ; and looking into the drawing-room, where the recep-
tion was going on, was enabled to see everything nearly as
well as if I had been inside. I thought this very fortunate,
as at the start, only aspired to get a peep into the hal',
wliich I proposed to pass into, and out l)y the other door ;
hut after watching the proceedings for a short time, I
became so interested that all prudent resolves were for-
gotten. I was seized with the mad desire to get in
and indifterent to all considerations of propriety, I deter-
mined, let come what would, to follow the tide, and go
wlierever the rest did.
Well, we came at last to the entrance w here stood a pom-
pous-looking servant in formidable livery ; I began to fear
1 should have to produce my card again,but someone a little
in advance gave the " open sesame " — the different deputa^
tions had a sort of chief at their head to attend to this sort
of thing, which was an arrangement I felt like applauding
— as it was, maiiitained a demure silence, and passed
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tlirough witli the rest The hall in which wc now
found ourselvovs was a 1 le one, — broad, lofty, and with
the doors of adjoinino- rooms thrown wide open, presented
the appearance of a spacious lobby. I noticed here,
besides the people assembled, many attractive decora-
tions and objects of vertu ; some fine bronzes and tro-
phies, many of tliom, no doubt, of pt'isonal, I mean Na-
poleonic, interest — also paintings which I only glanced
at, but would have liked a whole afternoon tostudvand
adniire. Aye, relics were they all of the Empire, and .sad,
(I could have wished touching) reminders of imperial, and
we may presume, happy days '' lang syne." Here, too,
were old baHle-flags, dilapidated and torn, and these espe-
cially struck me as being far from the least interestiiii,'
among many di.- tinguished features of the locality and
occasion. Appropriately draped, they seemed to me to
bear a peculiar significance ; they were not — like so many
other things tliatsimply awaken tender remembrances — me-
inentos over which to mourn, but symbols as well, throui,di
whose rents of shot and shell one sees the " silver lining
to the cloud" — and even out of those dreadful battle
scars there seemed to gleam quenchless rays of glorious
Jiope !
yi.
Beyond, towards the other end of the hall were gath-
ered a distinguished company of ladies and gentlemen.
They were in groups, sitting or standingabout, conversing,
something after the fash ion of an "at home," only there was,
J noticed at once, a marked absence of gaiety. It is impos
CmSELllUllST.
•2Go
sible to overcomo French vivacity, but there was a j^'cntle,
subdued air about them all liere now, as if tlie shadow of
a great troublt^ had fallen over them ; as, indeed, it had.
What a contrast to former occasions, it must have seemed
to them ; and what a contrast to the noisy set outside, it
seemed to me. No crowding, no jostling, but an easy, well-
bred decorum prevailed, that made every thing that was
said or done seem a refined and earnest expression of de-
ferential esteem and homage.
It would have been a grateful relief to me after the
excitement and confusion from which I had emerged, had
I not been all the more oppressed with the dreadful im-
pi'opriety I was conimitting. A little way down the hall,
we turned to the left through a doorway, and entered a
medium sized and very plain room, in which I noticed more
souvenirs and more interesting things. Over the mantel-
piece was a fine mirror, with a curiously wrought frame of
silver filagree, and among the articles of furniture two or
three camp-cliairs attracted my eye, one of which looked
as if it might have seen service under the first Napoleon.
T have no doubt there were many things that would
have been interesting objects to contemplate if I had had
time and could have known all about them ; but there
was no chance to get out a " Murray," or a " Bradshaw,"
and I was left simply to look and wonder and imagine.
T was a little dashed at this period of our progress to
see my companions of the " Legion" doffing top-coats, and
poming out in full dress. 1 hjid on my best frock and
tried to look the enticing picture of juvenile innocence ;
but was far from feeling the swaggering assurance of a
111
266
HKVKKIKS OK AN Ol.I) SMoKMIt.
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spoiled toddler, until presently I perceived one or two
others with morning coats, which relieved my mind a good
deal, and I at once liecame very much attached to them.
Adjoining this room was the drawing-room, where the
presentations were going on, and my eyes were already
turned in that direction ; I could see, there, the Empress
and Prince, and forijot all thouj^ht of embarrassment in
the rare and devoutly wished for spectacle. Then we all
resumed our places in colunni again, and prepared to move
forward; but some who had been in before us were now
coming out, and we paused. I had proceeded thus tar with-
out being asked one question, or having to utter a single
word ; it was the silence of discretion, persisted in with
conmiendable self-control, and endured with the noncha-
lance of outward calm and inward perturVrntion. I had
aniple reason to dread an cjvposd, which, at ariy moment
seemed inevitable ; indeed, I was compassed round in
jeopardy, and expected nothing less than to be col-
lared as an interloper, — scooped up, as it were, and
shovelled out ; and smilingly, placidly, I waited to be
2)ounced upon, — exterminated — blown to atoms by a
dreaded interrogatory, shot out of the mouth of some offici-
ous cannon. Thus did I scrutinize each successive phase
of my progress, with a tranrpiil heroism surprising in one
of my timid, retiring nature ; and to this day I marvel 1
should have presumed so far, and persevered so boldly. 1
was not unconscious of my danger, and though I saw my
peril, it found me by this time seemingly indifferent to my
fate, and all the more infatuated with " Destiny." Then
it was, I yielded to the sweet intoxication of an all absorl)-
CHJSELllUKST.
207
iii«^' interest; with now and again a tliiill, at tlic thoiiolit
that I was not only meandering in the " course of Empire,"
but in close proximity to that imperial magnet, whoso
))ovver now drew all in common, and aV)out whose brilliance
there was that eccchomic isolation whi(;h blent all minor
shades in obscurity ; and already we felt retleetcd on our
dazzled vision the dawning splendor of our destination,
Vll.
This language may seem exaggerated, and it would l)e,
under any other circumstances; but I am emh'avoring
faithfully to describe my impressions on this occasion,
and though I may be peculiarly susceptible to sentimen-
tal influences, still, I found myself on this eventful day
under what may be explained as that mesmeric power
under whose subtle sway, not simply individuals and po-
tentates, but communities and nations, have yielded all
their prerogatives of self-government, and acknowledged,
if not vassalage, at least subordination. The fact is, from
the inception of my hazardous undertaking, T had been
• Iravvn within the current of that inexplicable magnetism,
whose manifestation and power had electrified a preced-
ing generation ; and which had not simply drawn out, but
at the bidding of its imperial will had impelled blindly,
devotedly forward, the victims of one, whom, forty cen-
turies will look back upon as the God of war ! I felt
what drew me on was the same power that had led them
across the narrow span that separated glory from perdi-
tion at Lodi, and through smoke and flame down into
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maj^otic destiny others followed smilingly, willingly,
suhlimely, throu<^di the midst of winter, ovtn- harrier of
ice, and craig, and mountain chain, — brushing asi<le th**
avalanche, or threading serenely the <lreadful gorges of
the Alps ! Aye, an<l posterity to this late day catches
an undying glimpse of that terrific power and its luMoii;
following, enveloped in the storm-cloud of the St. Ber-
nard, disguised like fabled genii in a tempest, "stealing
a march on Fate I "
Under the intluence of that same marvellous agency, T
should not, any more than these other men, have shrunk
from numbering my hund)le self in the honored cate-
gory ot the sacrificed ; indeed, I was ready and willing t(»
march right into the very "jaws of death," but the jaws, on
this occasion, fortunately, were the open portals that lei I
to no harder fate than into the presence of the wifk and
SON of France. The Prince, who now caught sight of our
party, was standing about the middle of the room with
the Empress a little way lihind, and to the right of hiui.
As we approached, he advanced a pace or two, and
our spokesman, or some one in front, said something, I
think, to let him know who we were, an<l thus presented,
all commenced bowing, the principal ones in the front-
rank shaking hands with the Prince. Several of these he
seemed to know and spoke to in a jdeasant, graceful
way, that I have no hesitation in saying, won my heart
at once. The Empress came forward also, and addressed
one or two with that peculiar grace and dignity which
have won the esteem and a<lmiration of all who have been
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fortumitii «'tlolii(h to Ih'IioM licr. MUi a fv\\ luief inomoniM,
wliicli passed so <[ui('kly n>< almost to seem an aj^^^nisa-
tion, we coinmcnecHl our retreat, and were soon l)ack
again in tlio tirst r< in. Hert; T saw another s(|uad \no'
parinjL^ to enter as we had, and 1 (jniekly sidled over, and
joined them with a view to ^oing in again.
It may seem absunl, but I was so absorbed witli the de-
sire to get baek into the reception room once more, and
if possible to ^ray there a little while, tha^ I really cared
tor nothing else ; and owing to th«' confusion generally T
was not interfered witii, and so entered with mv new
companions a second time. H )wever, inst»ad, of going up
all the way got off to one -ide, which was discreet; as ibis
time they nearly all grappled with the imperial paifcy, and
seemed entitled to personal recognition I thought I
might have reason to be satisfied if I did not come in
actual contact, so got a little out of range, and took a
calm, quiet survey of all that was going on. 1 wanted to
see how the Empress looked, and talked and acted on this
occasion, and was gratified beyond my most sanguine
expectations. I watched her for fully twenty minutes,
feeling tolerablyfree from observation ni}'self,as there were
so many coming and going, an«l all eyes were on the
Empress and the Prince. The former stood facing in our
direction, and to her right, and a little behind her, was a
very stout but fine, pleasant-looking dame (the Comtesse
Poeze), who was the only lady besides the Empress in the
room.
The prince was attired in plain clothes, but wore
over his left breast the broad ribbon and star denoting, I
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270
REVERIKS OF AN OU) SMOKEK.
believe, a high grade in the Legion of Honor. He had
his mother's look about the eyes, but in general features
resembled his father very strongly, without, however, the
slightest trace of a likeness to the first Napoleon. He had
a robust frame, a frank, manly bearing, and it seemed to
me, performed the task of receiving the deputations in a
very happy manner, and with admirable ease and self-
possession, for so young a courtier. The Empress, when
not engaged in conveisation, watched her son with a
mother's pride and solicitude plainly depicted on her
noble but worn and troubled features ; at the same time
seeming to hear, see everything that was going on, and to
feel, as no doubt she was warranted in doing, that it was
a trying and important time for both. Attired as usual
in deep mourning, it was, indeed, difficult to recognize
the once reigning Queen of Fashion ; but although the
blighting grief she has had to bear has told upon her
sadly, nevertheless she is still a beautiful woman, and all
her ways superbly graceful and winsome. In brief, then,
supreme without being ostentatious, and affable without
seeming to patronize, this widowed mother and that father-
less son acquitted themselves in a manner to reflect dig-
nity on their cause, and merit on their pretensions.
Lucien Bonaparte was in the room at one time, but
disappeared without my getting a very good sight at him.
Standing in the front rank a little to one side was the
Due de Padua, and near him the Due de Bassano. I had
seen them before on the way from the marqude, and it
was in their rear, and screened by their benign and im-
posing presence, I had planted my humble standard, and
CHISEMIUUST.
271
took all my observations. Was so iinicli ilitorestod in
the spectacle I did not mind much about myself; until a
])lain appearing individual came up and stood nearly in
front of me, and while there the Empress stepped up
and shook hands with him. J coiild not understand
what she said, but the movement admonished me 1 was
in too close quarters to retain my spectatorship much
longer, and I sidled off by degrees. Passing through
the adjoining room into the hall, I very nearly upset on
the way a stifly-starched genius in livery who said to me
quite civily, a (jauche ! It startled me for a moment, as
what he uttered sounded very like the English for " a
ghost," l)ut I regained my self-possession and turned, as
directed, to the left.
At one part of the hall another cuts it crosswise,
and at the intersection of these I made a stand for a
few minutes. It was a large open space furnished,
Aloorish fashion, like a room, with the sw^eet addition of
an almost tropical [)rofusion of flowers in the form of
bouquets and wreaths and offerings of that sort which had
been brought over from France. Here were gathered
a sroodlv share of the creme de la creme of all that multi-
tude who had come over to do honor to the occasion, and
whose homage and fealty, in the opinion of many, bid fair
to bring about a restoration. Among these were a goodly
number of ladies,finely dressed and fashionable looking,but
somewhat on the dowager order, and nearly all, I thought,
extremely plain-looking. Several of the gentlemen I ob-
served wore that decoration of the Legion of Honor, which
consists of a crimson ribbon with a star attached, worn
'1
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ii
272
IIKVKUIES OK AN OLD SMOKER.
like a linly's lockot loinul the neck. I cannot say how
far up in tlie scale of distinction it is, but as those only
wore it whose province it seemed to be to do the honors
of the Imperial household, a,nd submit to be lionized, and
to be treated with innnense deference, it struck me it de-
noted something of a very high order. Whilst standing
here two ladies passed close by me, one of whom said
" Pardon, Monsieur ! " and I made way for them. They
stopped within nudging distance of my right elbow, and
spoke to an old gentleman who had just come up ; he was
of slim stature, but courtly looking, with a large, square
head, fine features, and pleasing aspect. One of the ladies
was the wife of a Marshal of France (Canrobertj ; the
old gentleman who wore the grand cordon of the Legion
was Prince Jerome Bonaparte.
But I must bring my narrative to a close. Much as I
have written, I have but briefly, and inadequately de-
scribed all I saw and felt ; have exaggerated nothing ; in
fact have done no sort of justice to the theme, and simply
give these jottings as a truthful remembrance of what really
occurred. Suflice it then that as I moved slowly and reluct-
antly away and took my departure, it was with a profound
sense of gratification at all I had seen. I marvelled a
little at my extraordinary good fortune, in getting
through without a mishap ; and whilst being thankful for
this, was not a little proud to think, I was probably tlie
only representative of America in that historic picture^
to which in thought, at least, the eyes of all Europe were
turned that day, with even more interest in its political
CHISELHURST.
273
Importance, than I, through more curiosity, could ap-
preciate ; thi.ugh as far as I was concerned it was alto-
gether the most intensely interesting event in my re-
collection, and the most novel and gratifying of all my
adventures. There was nothing farcical about it, al-
though it is quite possible my description may niake it
seem so ; and the earnestness and enthusiasm evinced on
all sides by so many respectable people, and noted men,
impressed me strongly wuth a belief, that the cause of
the Imperial party is by no means a forlorn hope. Both
from the demonstration made a^. Chiselhurst on this oc-
casion, and a correspending one in Paris, there is good
reason to believe a great reaction has taken place in the
minds of the French people in this respect. The courts
of inquiry, too, that have been held recently, have in
every instance reflected credit on the patriotism and
fidelity of Napoleon and the Empress, who were no
doubt basely betrayed and sacrificed. Meanwhile the
remnants and scattered debris of monuments and sym-
])ols levelled and defaced in madness and ingratitude
are being garnered up in kindliness and regret, and pre-
served as mementos.^ With the masses, especially the
low^er classes, these are treasured as precious souvenirs,
and despite the eifort of government a secret sympathy
not unmingled with pride and reverence is fast gaining
ground in the public mind. This sentiment is silent
generally and in many instances where expostulation is
loudest, denunciation is all assumed to palliate a con-
sciousness of self-shame. Not a few may seek by carry-
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274
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
in^' ilu! Manic to aiiotliei's dorn- to shirk the opprolniiim
of their own pei'fidy and crime ; rival claimants, pai ty
men, ami blustcrini,' politicians may still cry " vengeance
on the man of Sedan," but the victim uf their dastardlv
meanness lies beyond tlie pale of further outrage, and
a rival nation and a great people are proud to k-
ceive his dust, and to honor his memory. They pulled
their Emperor down from the high place which his vir-
tues and abilities ha<l won, but they may not long depos*-
Justice ; both were dragged to shame, and burie<l under a
mountain of oldocjuy, but phcienix-like both have risen—
the one to assume the crown of the incorruptible — tliti
other to mount upward like the morning sun over the hill-
tops, its beaming rays dispelling the mists of prejudice, and
rolling })ack those dark threatening clouds that seemed
for a time to threaten the glorious memory of one whom
all must esteem as having been a wise man, an inde-
fatigable benefactor, and, by all odds, the greatest sover-
eign of his time. Say what they may France glories in
the name of Bonaparte, and that " star " which shone so
brilliantly on the victorious legions of Austerlitz and
Marengo, is looming in the horizon a grand refulgent oib,
in a constellation of solar magnates — blazing with a lustre
that the destiny of Waterloo could not eclipse, and that the
defeat of Sedan is powerless to tarnish ! Vive VEmperev.f !
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I.
rr^HERE arc other ideas sugoested by the precednig"
-*- essays, and having a sympathetic beaiiijg on the
general train of thought which we have adopted in these
reveries, and though jotting them down as tiiey crowd in
pell-mell on the mind, may make them seem irrelevant
and such a digression that each may appear the intro-
duction of an entirely new subject, nevertheless, they are
only branches of one broad theme, — tributaries which,
diverging at certain points, to embrace a wider field of
observation, converge latterly, as is natural with many
things in life, and clasp hands finally over that narrow
chasm where all differences blend in fraternal accord.
We find two things in the affairs of people, exercising
vital influence over their lives and destiny : I refer to the
opposite vicissitudes of, on the one hand, a great triumph
— on the other, a great reverse. There is no question
which is the more popular. — The former is greeted on every
liand with applause, — it is presumptive and undisputed
evidence of merit ; while the latter, it follows naturally,
we despise, condemn, and try to shun. But strange as it
may seem at first, when we ask which of these exercises
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ItKVERlES OF AN OU) SMOKJ'R.
the Invst inflnonro, the »[uestion is more difficult to answer
than may he supposed : The one, no douht, kindh's our as-
piiationsand elevates our aims, — its motto is, " Excelsiorl"
— But th(! other operates as a restraining power, and rising
like a Bancpio on the ice, points to the thin and <langerous
places and cries " Beware ! Beware ! "
Crime is not unfrtMpU'ntly the ()tts})ringof thefirst, whilci
nohli'r, purer conception of living many times springs from
the last; but to give these two exemplary conditions in life,
the larger scope and detail exhibite<l in ordinary careers,
they may be d<^signated under the moie comprehensive and
familiar heads of Sticces8,aud Failure. It is not my purpose
here to investijiate all the fateful bearinfjs of these two
prolific words; it would take volumes to compass even the
smallest part of their full significance. We only point
them out in passing, as we would striking features in a
landscape ; comprehending as they do in our social status
all those varied irregularities of hill and dale, — of moun-
tain and valley, — which, running at right angles to the
more common wa3^s of our humdi-um existence, indicate
the crof^scuts of life — those rugged tortuous })aths, side by
side with graded, luxurious avenues, beneath whose tin-
selled foliage and beguiling shades; ambition and enter-
prise lure the eager, restless votaries of discontent and
avarice.
All our impulses, if acted upon, may be said to involve
to a greater or less extent, success and failure ; but re-
gaicled in the ct nventional phase most characteristic of
our times, these two flexible word may be defined as the
AMNKSTY.
^279
Mttaiiiiiicnt, on the one IuiikI, of positions or tlu' continl of
iiR'jins, wlu»iel»y we may coiimwind w Imtevt'i' luxiiiios and
comforts our a})petites may cravo or money procure ; on
the other, not only the ri;verse from this but sucli an un-
profitable issue in all we undertake, as to debar us t'roiu
making more than a precarious livelihood, if indeed so
much. These conditions, we may add, are presumed to re-
present happiness and abundance, misery and want.
II.
Taking the people who represent these two writhing
struggling divisions, we find ini([uity iidierent in both, and
neither exempt; but how much the greater burden of
blame are the unfortunates made to carry, and, as things
are, how much more largely do they share, not in the good
things of life, Imt in the ordeal of exclusion, expiation
and trial. When both are implicated, which of these nmst
suffer most to vindicate the riofhteous ri^jfor of our laws ?
Or turning away the <larker side of the grimy picture
and glancing at that which is generally, if not hidden
at least ignorsd, let us impure who does all the hard and
really dirty work of the world ? Wa may take pri<le
in our factories, our industries — who work them ? We
may be proud of our army, our navy — who comprise the
army — who are the navy ? Who do all the fighting in time
of war, and gain the victories that overthrow and con*
found the disturbers of our national peace ^ Who suffer on
the battle field — in the hospital — in the prison hulk —
and later, drag through a miserable, thankless, crippled
'd\
it 1 >
i i »
Hi
280
nKVKRlKS OF AN OLD SMOKER.
.
.if «'
: If *
II ■
it ■■'«
br^
exisk'iicc ? We answer, they belong' to that (h'gi*a«h'<l set
wlio Moine way iiuina<^e to i'kc out a niea^ni .siihsistcnce
ami to livi', hut wlio, ici^anlleMs of their claims to tlie eon-
trary, an» re;;anle<l by society, and njayhap by themselves,
as — failures.
Notwithstanding the contempt that may be felt for tlirni
individually, we are altogether too prone to forg<'t that
collectively they have performed such service as to enable
us all so proudly to njaintain, not simply our families in
opulence and security, but, better still, to achieve and re-
tain our individuality and credit as a nation imd our pres-
tige as a great military and naval power. They, indeed,
are the true "sinews of war;" and on a morning that ushers
in a " Waterloo," or a "Balaklava," it is their valor, not our
"iuoney, that wins us the day ; — their hevowm, not our
Ttinrujlcence, that glorifies defeat. Aye, and when, in
the midst of our exultation, we give a thought to the
cost, well may we turn with contempt from the treasurt'
contributed by the higher class of successful stay-at-homes,
and regard reverentially the long death-roll which tells
the sad fate of the absent, the heroic, — for the names \\c
read thi're, are, with rare exceptions, the very lunnl>l('st
in the land; but they are the names, forsooth, that with
mute eloquence and speechless pathos, betoken wdiat n
hard struggle it all must have been for our country, our
home, and our fireside !
Hence it is, when we ask ourselves whence comes the
sorrowing tears that through long years have drenched
our battle-fields, we have only to trace the bitter stream
to its source to find it issuincr from the miserable refu<]fe
AMNKSTV
281
of the poor, tin' dcspistMl, tin fuilm»' ! In tiiiir of war, it
is true, we hiiiii up the JH<;ge«l <,'a.sh wlieiice wells thr life-
blood ; and yet in peace we leave all unattended and un-
lionored, wounds, that thou;;;h they c«'ase to bleed, have
not healed, an<l hearts, which thou;^di brokmjnay not die
The living' reai) tlicir harvest fiom the battle-field; the
(lead, theirs : It is well for the poor fellows who comprise
the latter that, as we may rationally presume, the pr-ice of
glory and of redemption being the same, debarred from
the enjoyment of the one they may havr entered into
the felicitv of the othei-. Thus, as we muse in ima<ri-
nation over the scene of former conHict, it is <lifh
cult, notwithstanding all our pious egotism, to sliut our
eyes to the impression that there is something better
than our humanity brooding over it all; — a spirit more
symi)athetic and nobler even than our Christianity — with
its long train of disputed right — its hoh)caust of bloody
sacrifice. The strife for these poor fellows is past, with us
it is only hushed ; the roar of ])roadsides and batteries,
the crash of volleys have ceased, but to all that murderous
<lin there seems still a comminjiflinf^ of faint and moiunful
echoes — thev lead far awav-— thev are shivered and scat-
tered like birds tieeing before the wintry blast; — scattered,
they are not parted, but only divided, and meet later in a
chorus of angelic song. — Ah, they are the death-sighs of
the fallen, wending their piteous way to the spirit land ;
they leave the reeking trophy of war behind, but carry
Avith them the passport to higher distinction : — It is that
race and forgiveness vjrowjht in a stiffed »oh of pain.
i
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282
TlEVEUlES OP AN OLD SMOKtltt.
\n
■^ .If ?
In the last sentence of the foregoing was struck what
is claimed herein to be the key-note of final and univer-
sal amnesty, and up to the word " pain," we have given
an inkling of the drift of thought (I will not say argu-
ment) which is to follow.
' ■■ ■ - "'...,,/■■ "."
. . . Ill ^ ...- , ,;,,:;^--:;.--
As what we have written thus far would indicate, we
find the subject of anmesty bristling with antagonism ; in-
deed, so far as this life is concerned, it is really less a
matter of amity than of enmity, and, confining the issue
to class, the inquiry resolves itself into one of strife.
As regards the two great divisions of society we have in
view, it is not so much my intention to go into an ela-
borate analysis of them as they stand in relation to suc-
cess and failure, although in this connection they could
be picked to pieces to advantage ; but my design in bring-
ing them together is to strike a level in the apparently
uneven surface thus presented, not simply in business af-
fairs and social position, but in human nature. In doing
this, it may not be irrational to assume, on the principle of
the husk, the possibility of clearing away, not by argument,
but by a more potent and diviner influence, the enormous
superstructure of good, bad, and indifferent that has accu-
mulated above such level. Then, however strongly these
opposing elements may seemingly incline to a disseverance
of ties, and to a division of race, it might be shown to be
so only in the temporal affkirs of men ; and that pertain-
ing to the conventionalities of life merely, they have no
1^'">
AMNESTY.
283
more to do with our hereafter, than liavetlu^lialtits and crot-
chets of good society or the petty decrees of social ostra-
cism. Thus, while being superficial, the irregularities of
life are neither profound no'- eternal, and, while obstruct-
ing, <lo not bar nature's evidence of counnon destiny.
IV. • ■ ■
In m}' estimate of those comprehended under the
term success, I may fail to justify such apparent a])ase-
nient as shall bring them in the manner proposed down to
a level with the rest of mankind ; and judging from that
standpoint, which I confess to be the general sea-level of
failure, — contemplating success it may be inbias, — I would
seek to measure the lofty heights before me not in the light
of their crowning radiance, but grovelling in the mire be-
low and taking their altitude by the shadow they cast
upon the plain. I make no stint of confessing, further-
more, that my sympathies are most heartily enlisted on
the side of those who, as in the case of poverty and fail-
ure, — seem to have the greatest difficulty in establishing
their claims ; not that I love them best, but because they
are ccRdemned the worst ; not that I think them blame-
less, but that I would not have them bear the whole bur-
den of culpability.
Contrasting the respective qualities of the two classes
we have in mind — the high and the low, the trained and
the illiterate, — it must be admitted the latter exhibit the
most marked natural characteristics whether of good or
bad ; and notwithstanding the many blots, we read human
1
^1
> \i
ir
2<S4
REVEKIES OF AN OLt) SMOKEIt.
1
nature (as it is) among thein, better, and feel when wo
put the volume down it deserves the title not of polished
duplicity, but of plain unvarnished truth. In some re-
spects, these two classes stand in the relation of heads to
hearts ; indeed, one of the secrets, and a vital one, in the
achievements of that success which in the world's idea is
the accumulation of pioperty and power, is to be all head
and no heart. Success, too, always couples with it tlie
affectation of letinement, and now-a-days one marked
feature in our vulgar appreciation of that, if not its spe-
cial function, is to enable heads to banish oi* dissendde
all sentiment pertaining to the rival sect of hearts.
It requires very little experience of the world, however
to teach us with which of these the vantage lies; and when
we consider our state offices, our seats of learning, our
temples of precept are all monopolized by men whose pre-
tensions, at least, marshal them under the banner of
" brains," w^e need not feel surprised to find authority
yoked up with arrogance, — and the rules and regulations,
*the dicta emanating therefrom, if not to the prejudice of
the lower class, are not, we may be assured, at variance
wdth that consciousness of high-toned desert which we
may expect to find in such an exclusive appropriation of
all the superior virtues.
It may be urged that the learning and enlightenment
of the higher and cultured class are a blessing and a guid-
ance to the set who are groping (as represented) in intellec-
tual darkness and moral obscurity. Education, it will not
be denied, is a useful qualification, especially to him wdio
m
AMNESTV.
285
possesses it ; but how far we may ask, is such exclusive eli-
gibility influenced by motives of personal aggrandizement
and individual and selfish monopoly ? Wherein has
all this polish and erudition evinced in any degree, much
less demonstrated, an exemption from the venal instincts
and petty spites that .stigmatize the duller and les* re-
fined capacity of our unsophisticated and sturdy yeo-
manry. Moreover,so far as the blessing of their guidance is
concerned, I must admit, I for one have lost much of my
schoolboy admiration for that high-cultured benevolence
and patriotism as exhibited in our public men, who, while
professing to cater exclusively to the welfare of the
needy and distressed, never fail to make the wants of a
people of personal advantage to themselves.
Of course, for me to impugn the integrity and disinter-
estedness of these men and the learned professions, would
be a shocking presumption; however that may be, wo
may instance, by way of general application, the fact that
experience has shown the necessity of representation, and
that our highest judicial authorities needed, and still need
from time to time, that regulating themselves which we
do not alv/ays see emanate from the spontaneous exercise
of their own wise volition.
V.
Not being one of those commendable exceptions who
boast of being dispassionate, I may be biassed when I say
it is not surprising the lower classes — I mean those who
figure in the comparative obscurity and diead pro-
scription of failure — should sometimes feel a consciousness
M
H
t" ',
Ml
! I •
^i:
280
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
of desert which, it must be admitted, except in rare in-
stances, is not recognised, and far less substantially appre-
ciated by the class above them, who, having achieved a
little success, feel the ovei'shadowing importance of their
own superiority, and use the privileges in which they
profess a generous pride as the medium of an ill-disguisod
contempt and as the means of an equally unjust and cruel
oppression.
While this tendency, of course, is most strongly to
widen the breach of social relationship and mutual good-
will, it follows naturally these two classes should bei )iiie,
what they really are, adverse, discordant and opposing
elements. Under circumstances so favorable to provo-
cation complaints arise and combine in a baleful nucleus of
ill will. Round these are clustered — in the pacific guise of
societies or benefactors — organized legions of sympathiz-
ers, agitators, and adherents, who raise a mere partisan
grudge, or local irritation, to the dignity of a class griev-
ance — and this, under various pretexts, breaks out, fVoni
time to time, in those savage irruptions that go so far to
make history a mere partisan recital of bloody atrocities.
This state of things, it is only common sense to predict,
will obtain through all time, nor is it paradoxical to aver,
that the danger is most imminent when peace seems to
have accumulated the most abundant and gratifying evi-
dences to the contrary. Thus it is, when all things as-
sume an air the most pacific and admirable, there is re-
vealed underneath the outer scale of our opulence ami
splendor, the Scourge of War who, in the glitter of a more
AMNESTY.
287
polished barbarity, has burnished his weapons, and only
awaits the signal to begin the fray.
Unlike the spark that ignited the great fires of London
and Chicago, in the case of social cond)Ustion the tlanie is
spontaneous, like that which precedes a storm in the
clouds. There may be no appearance of fire, but from tlio
impact of two or more sensitive and highly wrought up
elements; there issues in this case not an electric flash, but
a steady, deadly flame ; not the crash of thunder, but the
roar of cannon ; not the rush of the tempest, but the
rumble of revolution ! We see in the half frolicksome
tussle of '* Town and Gown," a fflimmerinir of the confla-
gration ; but increase these combatants by the hosts per-
taining to the ups and downs of society — the rich and the
poor, the patrician and the plebeian, as they severally be-
long — and we have marshalled under our observation not
two local factions merely, but the colossal aimies of two
great rival classes, between v;hom have been and is being
engendered, in the nature oi things, an ever smouldering
and irruptive hostility. It has been most providentially
neutralized by the ceaseless fluctuations of success and
failure, and the ever drifting sands of party lines ; besides,
iu the dire extremity which seems must usher in that
dreadful and most needless arbitrament of the sword, a
soothing calm has been breathed over the turbulent pas-
sions of angry men, and elements that loomed in the
horizon and threatened to inundate the country in a great
ensanguined wave, have subsided into safer channels an<l
a kindlier, more pacific feeling has prevailed.
J
t
£1
III « ■
288
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
VI.
Again, too, in the case of threatened collision, extremes
must yiel<l, and compromise, which has done so much for
V)oth' sides and sided with neither, has been as "oil upon
the troubled waters." It has won illustrious patronage
too, in high places ; an<l by way of example we may no-
tice that the innovation of new titles in the British Peer-
age, is but the ostentatious display of a prudent fore-
sight, as well as a conspi(;uous evidence of what the
great world of failure loses by success. In other words,
what prejudice may not abjure, it is policy to conciliate;
and in our inability to exterminate the next best resouice
is to patronize. As invective sobers, so flattery intoxi-
cates; and thus an element that may not be conquered by
force, is vanquished through the graceful medium of an
impotent prerogative. So it comes about, that a ceremony
which in a mediieval age had been deemed a sacrilege, in
this is looked upon as the ordination of a more enlight-
ened policy. Hence the world in our generation is treated
to the significant pantomime of royalty invoking the
spirit of amnesty, in the sprinkling of plebeian blood
over the hallowed dust of pedigree !
Notwithstanding all this the ire of class is not appeased.
It is baffled in the loss of a chief perhaps, but the monster
grievance of real or ftincied wrong is fostered and suffered
by the lower orders. It recuperates from every blow^ aimed
by the opposing set at its subjugation or extinction ; aye
and when deemed no more, is only like many another evil,
taking new shape and ground, and not only existing Init
AMNESTY.
280
gaining increased strength. Thus when it seems after a
terrible wrenching to be eradicated, it is only masked un-
der some new aspect and after a severe blow kept hidden
and resuscitated. This incubus can never be driven awav
it cannot even be induced to migrate ; and to banish it, for-
sooth, would require not only the extermination of the
cause of feud, but the utter annihilation of the race of man,
and a repeopling of the earth, under the devoutly wished
for regime not of strife but of amnesty.
As things are, however, the mischief I speak of as con-
spiring against amity and peace, not only lives but while
being the rankest, so it is the most flourishing attribute
of our nature. In its frenzy it would riot in anarchy ;
and barring the helplessness of all human authority to
keep it in 3ubjection, there is brought to bear at this criti-
cal juncture a means for its control the happy adaptabi-
lity of which might have been suggested by that subtle
instinct we call tact, but the successful w^orking of which—
saving the dispensation of an all-wise Providence — would
seem more like the artifice of an astute governor : — That
is, it is kept diverted; and a current too strong to be re-
sisted is simply turned aside.
: VII.
Here, we may remark, (and it will sound like a fa-
voming of the "all-is -for- the-best" principle) that the more
numerous the divisions of public opinion, the smaller and
less formidable the innate mischief we are considering; for
then these diminutive factions not being strong enough to
s
20O
REVERIES OF AN Of.D SMOKER.
undertake each other's destruction, find vent for their ill
humor through a species of harmless initation ; the
general effect being comparative harmony and to some
extent co-operation. Thus, through a complex system of
petty storms, are we enabled to approach nearest to a per-
fect calm.
There is no doubt that much of the dissension amongst
us m.ay seem all wrong and out of place in our time ; but
while we may regard it — as wo do so many other things —
with distrust, as threatening our welfare and security, this
is only another one of innumerable reminders that we do
not alwa3^s know when or for what to be most grateful. In
fact, we are constantly admonished how erroneous and un-
kind are many of the estimates on which we borrow
trouble ; and it is not too much to assume that those very
differences which appear so dreadfully agitating and even
leading, as they often do, to worse contention, are not sim-
ply beneficial to our moral health, but indispensable in
acting as the waste-wears of inevitable spleen, and as the
safety-valves of irrepressible ferment. Hence in the wear
and tear which is so much deprecated, and in the sadder
destruction at times of life, as well as of property, the ten-
dency is most mercifully to soothe and assuage that tiger
in our nature which we see, not alone in the darker epochs
of history, as in the " reign of terror " in France, but also
in a small, but no less vindictive way, snapping and snarl-
ing individually, throughout every class and sphere of so-
ciety. _..,.:_.:;■■ .:..,_ ...;_,_..^,,,._';_:.^,.,:l:— : --^_..;,*^^1/
AMNKSTY.
21)1
III this view, then, much of that strife which is regarded
as so deplomble, may come in the divine onler of appro-
priate concomitants and he a(hiiirahly suited to regidate
those human animosities which must be appeased and, as
is often found necessary, fought down. Here we may note,
more particularly, that the people inheriting these dan-
gerous traits of character are not, as so many are inclined
to think, that much despi.^ed species of ghouls which
they assume are to be found only in the lowest stratum
of society, and inhabiting those dens of corruption which
are thought to distinguish the dwelling places of the poor.
There is no doubt that in the eyes of some, Poverty and
Opprobium seem always to walk together and to be in-
separable from vice ; indeed, it is characteristic of our
benevolence to yoke these two up together ; nevertheless,
I believe it is a grievous mistake, as well as a very ct m-
mon error to imagine the worst kind of wickedness may
not be found most prevalent in those places which are
surrounded by the most seductive of all excuses that
embellish our highest refinement. Of course an evil pro-
pensity is or seems to be a very general descrepancy in
our organism; but in none is it more deeply rooted, if not
so contemptibly conspicuous, as in him w^ho piques him-
self he is exempt. There is no exemption ! No, not
even alienation ; and, in the case of the best of us, no
amount of " moral suasion" ever did or ever will coax it
away. It may be diverted and pacified in many ways
that are pleasant and legal as w^ell as highly respectable,
nevertheless, however palliated it exists all the same. We
:i'
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t-h iii
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292
KEVKKIl!:8 OK AN OLD SMOKEK.
may rtMrognise it reiulily in a criminal or a mob — we .some-
times detect it amongst friends, but in self, never. — It is a
distemper that none of the nostrums known to onr
shrewdest adepts can purge away, and, like some otlur
ills so hard to wrestle with, we rarely recognise its true
character till ti.o late. v ' i
VIII.
According to the popular idea, wickedness is not only
moral disease but moral defoi'mity. It may wear this
aspect sometimes in the case of others, but in self, never ;
and generally speaking it is a wrong conception. Person-
ally, it has none of the sickly symptoms of a baleful malady
— none of the alarming concomitants of a wasting pesti-
lence ; it comes, on the contrary, comniended to us by our
conceit, and, not unfrequently, by all the rosy witchery of
robust health and lustful good nature; — then, childlike and
irresistible, it pillows its head upon our bosom and we
cuddle it !
The (qualities, also, by which some of our worst propen-
sities are generally known, may be the very ones by
which in self the evil is harbored, screened, and beautified.
They are closely allied to self-love, and though we give
them the most endearing names in all our tender heart's
sweet vocabulary, yet the cruel, unfeeling world calls them
by such harsh, opprobrious epithets as "Envy" — "Jealousy''
— "Hatred." Traits like these — with which we are all
amply endowed- — nourished, not maliciously, we will say
unconsciousl}^ grow into a species of gaunt, ever-hunger-
LLk4
AMNESTY,
293
in^ carnivuni that, out of tlu'ir rofu^'r in tlic tiackh'ss
fastnessoHof otir darker passions, issue forth toj»ruhon the
tender blossom and to poison the more healthful juices of
the better fruit.
With individuals the evil is localized, and may not i^
the case of some seem more obnoxious than may bi' in-
dulgently dubbe<l sj)iteful ; at any rate it is short lived,
as the span of existence; but under the fostering intlu-
ence of congenial " aFiSoeiations " that never die — com-
mingling with kindred Hocks and nursed by confreres
in the hot-bed of secret conclave, these traits of which I
speak are no longer the piecemeal of ill-will, but with
the homogeneousness of all unkindliness, become the
gigantic embodiment of sectional enmity. Then it is, we
see exliibited in private, the voracious beast we read of in
holy metaphor, — only that it is erroneous to think it is al-
ways " roaring ; " indeed, between the periods of its savage
irru|)ti(m, it is the inert monster of smiling duplicity,—
and then, in the saintly guise of certain "societies," solicits
and obtains patronage with an air of url»ane and even
pious benevolence. Although ever on the trail of its prey,
it appears on such occasions imi)elled by a more sympa-
thetic impulse, — as if in tender curiosity it was seeking
out the erring and wandering ways of poor troubled
spirits ; and thus transformed, without even the " cloven
foot" to indicate the brute, it meanders forth the per-
sonification of zealous philanthroj)y. To stri[) these
animals of their disguise — to harmonize them — to recon-
cile differences and obliterate feuds — all constitute the
4
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iii
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•%
J
204
RKVEUIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKIl.
piufesHt'd object that Im.s ('n^njjfCM! the attoiition of the
Moralist, tlie I)eiiiai;ogue, and the Evangelist, in every
phase of huniaii existence, — through struggling genera-
tions as far back as we have known those seething, warring
elements, Politics and Keligion. ,
• ^-
Meanwhile the tendency of all this laudable interces-
sion has been and is, (whether fortunately or otlierwise)*
to inculcate and foster new ideas, envolving our fathers
in the past (and in the entail, our children in the futun»)
in a heritage of unseemly controversy which, under the
pretext of glorifying causes, has been pushed to extre-
mities. Thus strife is engendered, — war precipitated, —
and the result, — failure — or, at best, such a patched
up compromise as leads to further contention and later
to a resumption of hostilities. The charge of failure, in
this connection would no doubt be denied, as botli
sides generally claim a triumph ; but, notwithstandinL,^
the great bulwark of authorities and opinions to the
contrary, it does seem to my humble perceptive faculties
most conclusively evident that, the upshot of each of tlu>
innumerable ciiisades attempted in the vii-tue of the one
side against the so-called iniquity of the other, following
the rule of circumambulation, has been and will be simi)]y
to bring us back to somewhere in the hazy past where
all our opinions seem to have diverged, and whence we
started. Thus the end of one conflict has been, and is to
be, the beginning of another.
AMNf-STY.
295
This I Ih^Hcvc may Ik; said witli only tmj much truih of
many
of
be.-
works, and a great deal of our
lM)a.st«d enterprise ; indeed, it is no idle hallucination to
assume, as I do heroin, that we have been for hund^e;^8
and thousands of years circling round a magic pivot ternu'd
the " Millennium," and calling the rotary exercise " pro-
gress;" at the same time looking back with contempt on
the foot prints of past generations, we call the last step
in our own " civilization." Occasionally we discover along
the line of march, signs of having been over the route be-
fore; that is, we sec directly confronting us or remotely
looming up ahead, virtually the siime obstacles tliat pre-
sented themselves, and that we undei-stood were overcome,
may be centuries ago; and this application may be carried
as far back as that remote age when necessity first con-
spired with expedient, and locomotion first suggested ob-
stacle. So it is, that nearer our own time we see old
wounds that were inflicted in the ware of the Huguenot
and Puritan, the Catholic and Jacobin, breaking out and
bleeding afresh and witness all about us, and menacing
our future, atrocities perpetrated in the names of reform
and religion, that bear a striking resemblance to the bar-
barity of St. Bartholemew, and the fanaticism of that
human grill of Smithfield.
But what does all this show ? It shows that the great
work of reconciliation, notwithstanding our splendid and
flourishing system of philanthropic and evangelical enter-
prise, has not been accomplished ; and taking the amount
of dissension as a criterion, it is not even commenced. It
\ I
29C
IIEVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKER.
•HfH
mKii''" ' *'
li^'if
|m ., 1
|te
MiilUHMP'
would seem unfair to allege that the stint has been alto-
gether neglected, and may be a great deal has been done ;
but we have been so much absorbed in doctrinal contro-
versy and in sectarian triumph, as to overlook the main
object underlying all our exertion.
In one sense it is true, we have kept the good work of
amnesty before us, but such a long way ahead that, so fni-
as our little world is concerned, the worthy object may
have, and very likely has, lost its centripetal force, and
been attracted to some other planet ; at all events, it
seems to have left our sphere. Maybe it is temporarily
absent in search of the millenium, or wandering about
somewhere on this terrestrial home of ours in some in-
explicable disguise — circling round, as it were, resurrect-
ing and beautifying some dusty landmark whose term of
purgatorial) probation is ended. Thus, instead of com-
ing down like a beaconlight ajid commencing with us and
our generation, it is groping its sluggish way along behind,
and will reach us at a later day when, in the pride of onr
humiliation, the dust of our monuments shall have
mingled with the ashes of our ancestors ! ! But where,
let us inquire, are those good shepherds in whose care
was entrusted that most volatile of all properties, am-
nesty ? Well, there are those amongst us whose duty
and calling it has been to go out as did the dove of old,
and reclaim the lost spirit of brotherly love; but,alas,they
leave us on their errand of grace, and, like the raven,
never return. They perish uy the way; or, making a
luxuiy of the " olive branch," they stay and roost there —
AMNESTY.
207
awaiting witli the cunning of the possum and tlie supine
idiocy of the owl, the twilight that shall usher in the
vesper-call of Gabriel !
In the above connection we may remark, that while the
breach occasioned in the conflict of rival sects is not
unfrequently made the bloodless arena of clerical hero-
ism, it is rather in the trivi.al affairs of social intercourse
are planted the germs of universal love and of univereal
pacification ; and out of the tropical beams of the fireside
spring a fruitful vegetation and golden harvest that may
not s])rout and grow in the dim light and frosty air of
cloister and pulpit. We may not address masses of men
as we would individuals, and those dry, didactic utter-
ances discharged in the stiff order of professional rou-
tine, while they may not lack in many of the requirements
necessary in the elucidation of doctrine, are too fre-
quently, even in their highest erudition, only a fine spe-
cies of prosodical mosaic, manipulated with all the cold,
polished asceticism of faultless art. They may appeal to
the ear as gracefully chiselled marble to the eye, and
some of these models, amongst connoisseurs, seem indeed
more hiofhlv esteemed than flesh and blood.
My "bump "of reverence may be abnormally small, but
I have to admit, it is absolutely wanting in appreciation
for the sort of pious automaton to whom this description
applies. They are the bloodless incarnation of a phlegm —
their voice, the aimless barking of a rheum ! This may
I III
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298
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
-I
!
seem like extravagant language as applied even in excep-
tional cases ; and yet I claim theirs as applied to us, is not
that of a sympathetic spirit, conscious of other's pain and
peril — with voice vibrating in the trembling yearning
solicitude of that great ordeal of suffering which we are all
standing by and contemplating ! Nay, 'tis rather the mo-
notonous, hastily-despatched jargon pronounced, in the of-
ficial discharge of an unpleasant duty, over the odorifer-
ous clay of spent humanity. Besides, their apathetic pan-
tomime ever so gracefully "entoned " to masses, falls as
far short of individual application as the spasmodic zeal of
the partisan overshoots the mark ; and the blank car-
tridges of the one, and the random discharges of whole
broadsides of invective by the other, are blended in the
smoke and brimstone of a species of sham warfare, that
has for its prototype the early battles of the church. All,
too, so far at variance with the good work of pacification
— let alone evangelization — that Christian brothers and
"societies," professing a fraternal "grip" with all man-
kind, gather in those once gory fields — that would and
ought to be smiling, fruitful meadow-lands — and with in-
sufficient provocation to commend even their prejudice,
unearth the skeleton of defunct antagonism, and in tlir
spell of an abominable incantation, rake with bony hands
the ashes of an ancient grudge ! r I ^ ^ ,^ ^
XI.
..-ijft^-
In my own behalf, however, I may say if called upon
to choose between the drone and the rhapsodist, I should
AMNESTY.
290
Ijc disposed to favour the lattei* ; not that he is my ideal
of what he should be, but all mingled as we are with the
failing, and dying, and dead, I cleave to whatever exhil Jts
the most unmistakeable signs of life, and vigor, and
animation. Indeed, I have no fellowship for that ghastly
caution which says of silence, it is " golden," — no more
than for that other dreadful inertia where nothinsr moves
and all is still. ;
Of the above preceptors one preaches by rote, the other
dilates upon the record ; one entones a dead ritual, the
other vocalizes a living thought ; one rivets his opinions
to set forms, the other emancipates ideas, and fosters liberty
of expression. — Both take their text from Holy Writ, but
while one gives it the strict interpretion of his " school,"
and is stifled in the narrow crevice of his " creed," the other
leavens it with the promptings of impulse, and sprinkles it
over with the fertile gleanings of miscellaneous reading.
One is fixed in a system of dogmas changeless as the solar
constellation, the other enjoys in the free use of his faculties
a perceptive and responsive power as wise and as necessary
as the cause he ad\ocates. — The first is correct according
to his " standard," and the last as near right as the con-
science from which he speaks ; the former at best is the
obedient servant, all zeal for the master, the latter, the
loving brother, all sympathy for the slave. Finally, both
are wrong in proportion as they adhere to our corrupt
version of old time impression and resist that gentle op-
ponent of rusty prejudice which, coming in the persua-
sive guise of some tempting need, advocates that modifi-
1 1
^
;
. .'
»
* (
300
RKVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKEU.
W:
■ 5 T"#5 I .
cation of ideas which is as much a necessity, and as
natural a growth as the improved vegetation of the eartli.
Apropos of advancement, it may be seen that I do not
mean that which is striving for the van — aye, crowding for-
ward to arrive and complete everything in a day, a year or
a generation ; and in this respect it appears to me this iif^v
of enterprise is surpassing not only others but itself. The
fact is there is a subtle element of progress inherent in
all things based upon latent qualities of good that lie
dormant or covered up until the veil shall be drawn, or
which, crumbling away piece-meal, like husks, disclose the
fruit so wisely fostered but concealed till the sublime
hour of perfect fruition. And herein lies an essential
evidence of equality in man, and the germs of universal
amnesty. Some of these husks are smooth and beautiful,
some rough and repulsive ; but beneath the outward aspect
is nourished a kernel whose perfection indicates the all
perfect foresight and impartiality of the Creator.
That some of these should be sweet, and some sour, and
many bitter and disagreeable, is only a matter of taste and
not a defect in the thing itself ; a peculiarity rather, of the
palate that should not be taken as a common standaid of
good and bad — of our likes and dislikes perhaps, but not of
our wholesale approbation and condemnation. While,
however, we find some of these husks natural, many are
artificial ; and here we may note particularly, that in the
clearing away of much of this outer garbage, and, in the
truthful development of fact, there is a wholesome ten-
dency to wear off, if not entirely to obliterate, many of
AMNESTY.
301
the glaring differences that characterize individuals and
classes and sects. Then, while there conies out of the
downhill side of life many redeeming traits, we have only
to glance upward along the higher incline, to see revealed
in that pampered realm a downward slide and a lament-
able drooping and dwindling away of splendidly adorned
mediocrities.
XIII.
We find artificial husks everywhere. Indeed, many of
the acquirements with which the "cultured" classes plume
themselves, and set up in contempt against the humble and
illiterate, are no more than the thin-skinned ornament of
mere outer embellishment; and much, too, that is attributed
to our boasted " higher enlightenment," we find, in truth,
founded upon a substrata of information, ingenious and
entertaining, no doubt, but to a great extent artificial and
false. This is not true simply of the fashicmable novice,
but also of the erudite professor, and applies as well to the
teacher as the pupil. " ' '
In that literature and learning which form such a goodly
share of our industriously garnered wealth, how little,
strictly speaking, is the quantity of grain to the enormous
bulk of chaff, — and yet we may justly add, how large the
kernel of precept imbedded in an almost impenetrable outer
growth of husk. This husk, in some cases, may be likened
to a sort of fungus obtruding itself in a most unhealthy
form ; not unfrequently, too, springing U[) in sacred soil,
it seems after a time to have inherited the reverential at \
tributes of ^hallowed birth ; but while ins^)iring, as it may
■i!
- : I !
I.!
!t
302
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
¥$*
often do, the pious conservatism of a denomination or sect,
and appealing to the kindest, purest instincts of a people, it
is none the less a scabby excrescence. Then it is, that the
incursion of an alien power or other ruthless element, to
do what in love and tenderness we may not have the
nerve or heart to do, is a healthful GoJ-send to a nation,
if not a general blessing to mankind.
There is one feature about our historical literature, too,
the importance of which may not be overlooked here. — I
mean its sanctimonious glorification of such brutal atro-
cities as happen to be on the right side. And to this we in
no small degree owe the fact, that to-day we stand by tlie
" fire eaters" of the 16th century, and with all their fanat-
icism, with all their hostility — with none of their provoca-
tion, with none of their sincerity, — we, their posterity, in
this remote land of mutual hope, and fear, and trust, con-
gregate in our temples, and there, ignoring the death
harvest of three hundred years of oblivion and reform,
and the pathetic appeal of six generations of prayer and
suffering for amnesty, bridge over the "bloody chasm"
that separates us from, and brings us into closer com-
munion with, that damning epoch of historical and re-
ligious feud, — and shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart,
and hand in hand, — marshalled under our respective
banners, fight over and over again, in abominable mimicry,
the squabbles and battles of Church and Creed, and ex-
ult in the goiy triumphs of their conflicts and their
victories!
AMNESTY.
303
We are admonished that " sufficient unto the day is the
evil thereof," but that applies only to those who can neither
read nor write ; it is reserved, rather for cultured soil, and
that harrowing medium, the professional demagogue, the
enlightened mission of transplanting the seeds of partisan
record, and through them perpetuating the ills of other
(lays. Nay, not even the poor and the illiterate are spared
the baleful heritage ; they and all are made, — in the
never-ending obsequies of the past — to reanimate the
grievances of the Huguenot, — to re-echo the war-cry of the
Covenanter, — and to sanctify the "cant" of the Puiitan.
It is not that we admire them so much, or that we feel
80 especially grateful for or unanimous about their doc-
trines ; nay, it is imperative that we maintain the role,
not simply of " Christians," but of " Protestants." The fact
is, we are just sufficiently at variance with the old reform-
ers to be haunted with an uneasy apprehension of relaps-
ing ; and the situation is thus made to appear a good deal
like that of a timid man clinging to the steep incline of a
slippery roof. But while there is no more sense in it than
in whistling because we are afraid or to keep awake, we
keep alive prejudice without having the confidence to con-
fess, or the manliness to disown it.
\ XIII.
In this emergency we turn again and again to a select
few in our midst who may be called the good shepherds
of "• Peace on earth and good-will toward men." If there
be one blessing more than another, for which the lower
304
llEVERIES OK AN OLD SMOKER.
k4*
*
claHses are in<lebted to the upper stratum, it is the preach-
ing which, with ail the professed simplicity of our oitho-
doxy, can only emanate in its purity and highest essence
from those who make the study of truth a profession. 1
weuld not detract from the efforts of earnest workers in
this vineyard ; but what arc the peculiar traits or acquire-
ments possessed by these particular individuals, so mucli
out of common with man's natural endowments as to make
them not only profess to be, but really seem pre ternatu rally
divine and immaculate beyond question ? In other words,
wherein lies the virtue of their especial and exclusive eligi-
bility to holy office? - ■■■'■■
Take the young fledgling of to-day — not only aspir-
ing to, but initiated into the business of saving souls —
let us examine him practically, as we would an appli-
cant for a certificate to sail a great ocean-steamship
freighted with human life, and what do we find. Why, an
ordinary individual whose education consists mainly in
his having acquired an aptitude in reciting a stereotyped
solution of certain abstruse problems pertaining to his
profession — problems which outline, like a system of bul-
warks, the dogmatical stronghold of his creed. As the
soundness of his theology, however, does not admit of
mathematical demonstration he falls back on the conven-
ient and hackneyed expedient of faith ; and believing, may
be conscientiously, it is his duty to feel as strongly as pos-
sible, he has set to work and read up till he is crammed and
saturated with the malignant prejudice and antagonism that
distinguished the early Reformer. Then, when charged and
ir
AMNKSTV.
305
the preach-
our oilho-
est essence
jfessiou. I
workers in
J or acquire-
rs, so much
s as to make
ternaturally
other words,
elusive eligi-
soaked to repletion, if he he an eneriL,'etitr talker, lie straiirht-
vvay l)econi(\s the imhifati^^ahle mouth-piece and hell-we-
ther of a whole congregation of higotry an<l hypocrisy. —
Aye, and with a voluhility erroneously duhhed elo(pience,
opening up the flood-gates of invective, in the sanie
hreath that he preaches paradise for his own flock ho
invokes perdition on rival sects. Meanwhile, what is
the most forcible truth to be deduced from all this
man's exertion i Why, he has shown, incontestably,
that the venom, narrowmindedness and meanness that ob-
tained in times past, and from which we claim ex<'mption,
have not snuply had their warping influence on the j)re-
sent, but that with the constantly reanimated impulse
of clerical and political partisanship, they flourish to-day
in all their pristine strength ; they may take upon them-
selves more acceptable forms, and they do ; but these and
other like monstrosities, we identify with our household
gods, and have come to regard them only as laj)-dogs, hob-
bies and pet- weaknesses. Nay, these very qualities, so
characteristic of the brute, are neither annihilated nor even
decimated ; on the contrary, they have not only multiplied
with the increased population of the earth, but with the
rapacity of their instincts, have fattened in the luxury of
greater indulgence, — till the major part of them have be-
come, through very obesity, so unwieldy and inert, that they
seem good-natured and may be harndess ; but poke them
up a bit, as it happens sometimes they are, and we see
only too significant signs of those barbarous propensities
which were once drowned, as Scripture assures us (like
T
^^
: r
M]
REVEIUKS OF AN Ot.D SMoKKU.
'I i'
4
rats), in a flood, arnl which only need a little starviii^jr and
i^oading to make them the lean and hnngry mon.sters wo
claim extinct. Now when we reflect that the poor, tlio
destitute and the oppressed, are undergoing this goading,
excoriating proccsH, if anything would disprove my as-
sumption of unmitigated barharism, it is that this class
should bear the onleal so well.
XIV. 's ,^ ■.'. ;■:■,,,„,:..:•
In one sense, this })ig world of ours is a great railway-
station where people are arriving constantly and are
waiting with their little packs in hand to take passage to
foreign parts. The walls are plastered all over with
])lacards, some with red and diverse-colored letters, settiii;^'
forth tiie })eculiar a<l vantages of the diflTerent ways of
reaching the particular " Eldorado" which all seem to hav<>
in view. There are three classes provided for : saloon,
int^nnediate, and steerage. — The fii"st is luxurious and
expensive; the second not so stylish but comfortable ;
the third peculiarly adapted to the lower class to w1h)iii
the sort of accommodation is no object so they roacli
their destination in safety. Here as we look about us soiiie-
what bewildered, we are pounced upon by some dozens of
liveried officials representing the different companies.
These latter individuals vary, naiitically s})eaking, all thf
way from the evangelical " crimp" to the ecclesiastical ice
berg ; some are vocifei'ating and gesticulating in a violent
and excited manner ; others hang back and are more dig-
nified, as if assured of the superior inducements of their
AMNKSTY.
l\Ol
line; aiitl, iiotwiUistjinding tlur fonniMarc so anxious un«l
solicitons, tlu; latter seem calm and indirt'ercnt. All aro
regularly licensed forwarders, but it is very easy to dis-
tinguish those among them who enjoy a moimpoly as old
linns, an<l especially those <lisp«'nsing governmtMit pjitron-
age. One of the most forward says authoritativt^ly, —
"come with me!" and, as in the impulseof a thing habitual,
makes as if to relieve us of our little pack ; l>ut we cling
to it lovingly and beg him not to be so hasty. While
their manners, particularly among themselves, do not al-
ways seem to commend their ollices, their demeanor gener-
ally is that of professionals; being not uidike what we have
observed in matter of fact, business-like dentists, sur-
•,'eons, and undertakers who are very nmch sought after
and greatly pressed for time ; in<leed, they even carry about
lliem the sepulchral odors of their craft.
A(kled to this, too, the way some of them have of going
nt one seems horribly suggestive of the work in liand, and
they make no stint of parading before our dazed and terri-
lied vision all the aj)palling preliminaries of the dreadful
ordeal that awaits us. 80 it is we shrink aw*ay with a le-
iiewed relish for the good things of life, and say to these
liveried gentry — who would take possession of us and our
little bundle,and put the brand of their dreadful monogram
on our quivering heart, its loves and pleasures — 1 pritheo
wait a while. But then, as if our dilennna encouraged the
others, they all make towards us as by one impulse and
hedge us round; and a dreadful controversy as to which
shall have us, is opened up and waxes warm.
nos
nEVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKKR.
Their abuse of each other, iiieaiiwhilc, im altetiiaieil hy
.sundiy direct appeals to us : one sayH, — don't go hy such
ami such a line — " they only cany cattle " — "they are not
decked over," an<l are wanting in " modern conveniences;"
they are not *' Clyde built," or they aie not " clasMed at
Lloyds." Wo are advise<l that the coui-se taken by soinu
is too " high," — that we shall get frozen in ; then, thr oppo-
sition retort against this by enumerating all the dreadful
contingencies of the more tropical route ; and we are
almost j)ersuaded at the mention of perplexing currents,
treacherous gulf-storms, and devastating typhoons. Ah, if
we take the opinion that each of these entertains against
the other, we must perforce condenm them all ; and we re-
flect that there may be more truth than scepticism in say-
ing to ourselves : — Alas, not our poor heathen, but the im-
peccable shepherds, how may they be saved !
XV.
I
• -(111 ,
1^-
Am I depreciating an excellent class of men whose snl>-
lime mission I envy ? If so, I am perpetrating an atro-
cious libel in this criticism, but then, in warning the poor
man against them, only rendering the more consj)icuous
those opposite qualities that prove it false.
However that may be, I confess I cannot listen to tlie
majority of these men and drink in all they have to say,
as the thirsty wanderers of the desert quaff the crystal
liquid of their own precious oasis; aye, and feel at the same
time that delightful quenching of a thirst that nauglit
but immortality can slake. The fact is, we see the average
AMNKHTY.
nof)
pix^aclicr of t<)-«lay ascend the taporinj,' tempio of his o!V(»«|,
jiiulfroin th«» summit of that iianowpiimarlcexpoiimlrtcon
t'Option of (lod's love and nwrcy an eramprd as the iittl«i
scope in which lie is raihMl. Socially he is tlu' amial>le
fiien«l and patron of all he periodically preaches afifainst and
condemna ; but here, ami<l the hushed aw«; of the livin".
surrounded !)y the mute hut expressive syndwjlsof a faith
professin«^only peaceand«;ood-will,notunfie((u«'Mtly Iwdost'H
his imlividuality as man in the sa ' t !y chaia<'ter of vicar.
Then it is we see before us the living', mo<l»'rn representa-
tive of the old time apostle ; which, accordinj^ to our modem
church interpretation, as demonstrab'd by tliis example, is
a very ordinary compound of such a rrputable trinity as
bigot, partisan, ranter. H<' mounts his pulpit, clad in tluj
neutral garb of an evangelical order — his countenance con-
gealing in the passionless chill of the cloister — and presto !
the transformation begins. " 'Tis then he sniffs the battle
from afar," and shines down upon his congregation " in the
full panoply of war." Contention is to him a luxiny— the
SaVdmth the annivei-sary of pious warfare. True, he may not
fight the battles in whose triumphs he gloiies, but bravely,
heroically, he throws himself into the bloody breacli of
ensanguined history and ))ravery, hei-oically, entonf;s the
war-cry of a passed generation.
On this gladsome day of rest the Lord of Light is smiling
down upon his people in such a wealth of sunshine; as would
draw bird-soniTs from .snow-banks; but the effect on this di-
vine proxy is only to thaw away a gi<?ater torrent of ill-hu-
mor and he overshadows all about him in the j)f)rt<'ntous
n
I
310
REVERU]S OF AN OLD SMOKER.
IIK
11
P'
^:i
If
-i
B'iii«# i
f 4 ' 1
MffiS^I
'1 ' f
^■^RBfUrakL
1 'i ".
i 1 7
I
I
cloud of his little storm. It is then we hear the snivelliuir
refrain of the Puritan — the battle cry of the Covenanter —
the wail of the Huguenot; and while the groan of the
Martyr is blended with the menace of the Protestant, the
screams of "Smithfield" mingle with the moanings of the
Inquisitioii. But who is this hostile interpreter of a faith
not his own — this pious burlesque of a cause sublime ?
Whence issues that torrent of coarse invective that follows
to this day the discarded fugitive, King James, and heaps
obloquy on harassed " bloody" Queen Mary ? Who is it,
do v/e ask ? Why his " name is legion; " and condensed all
into one, I can dispose of them in no truer or more ap-
propriate language than to say, — it is the bleached skeleton
of the sixteenth century, grinning through the gloomy
lapse of three hundred years, — and denouncing as victims
those in our midst, who may bear the name and have
none of the faults attributed to those who were con-
demned in that early age. Aye, it is ev^en worse now than
it was then — it is farcical and does not rise to the dignity
of real tragedy.
No ; we cannot leave the work of Amnesty to our good
shepherds; they are working like our demagogues and
others against that harmony of opinion and simplification
of doctrine that would wipe out differences and obliter-
ate professions. Nay; tliey are no exception to our lawyers
and doctors who would mystify their business in order to
enhance the importance of their services. This state of
things does not simply retard the promised reign of
" Peace on earth," but it conflicts with our professed exor-
AMNESTY.
;ui
cise of an enlightened policy ; so that, what may and is
found from time to time to be unwise and absurd or
false and pernicious, very often and for a long time is
persistently maintained, and the new light ignored, to
keep an institution intact wherein signs of crumbling
might shake human faith and disturb the sacred infalli-
bility of records. This too, when obdurac}? does not pas^
sively obtrude itself in the way of common sense, but
actively sets itself up in opposition to the most pathetio
appeals of justice and humanity.
XVI.
Here we may observe that notwithstanding the ettbrt
made to maintain intact, as above stated,all forms, customs,
and ceremonies — together with their extended retinues of
privilege and perquisite, of prerogative and emolument, — ■
there is a power stronger than the wisdom of our coun-
cillors or legislators, whether they pertain to Church or
State, and truer in its native intuition than all the
learned acumen of our professors and ministers and
judges. — It is resisting encroachments in high i)laces and
modifying excesses and the instruments by which its good
ortices are performed, are found, as in the case of universal
suffrage, in the lowest, tlie commonest and the hum-
blest in the land. — Those, in fact, whose very poverty and
abandonment is, in one sense, a distinctive feature of
their fraternity ; and the similarity of whose wants and
grievances is not alone the chief element of unanimity, but
"■
312
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
a guarantee of that mutual synii)athy which underlies
the public weal.
In close alliance with these, there is another mighty
lev eller of aristocratic bastiles, which, while it seems like
the other a ruthless destroyer, is the kindest, the most
faithful and effective of all retrievers. Empires, dynas-
ties, and systems bow before its potent sway ; and
probably not the easiest nor first to budge is that op-
probrious element in which spite and prejudice have
embalmed names, characters, and events, and thus
handed them down to posterity and to us as a heritage of
hate entailed by the father on the innocent credulity of
the child. Unlike '^-he barb we not unfrequently find
corroding in the llcsn it brought to dust, the spirit of
feudal vengeance is not quiescent ; but as the arm that
wielded it becomes paralyzed, it is picked up in turn by
younger successors and with increased venom made to
rankle, again and again, in the quivering hearts of sub-
sequent generations. ' : : V,
The only power that would seem to cope at all suc-
cessfully with this atrocious madness is — Time. Time
is the f»reat tireless am i' )rator of ill-will. It mav
often seem, and really i ■ ireadfuUy slow and could
the one most especially cui.cerned, live in the hope
of justification one or two or three centuries, he would
see them drag their weary length past to the end, and
while he still waited and watched, hear the clock strike the
hour which completed that long probation and be admon-
ished he must still be patient ; aye, and that he must die
* >i
'IH4.
I
AMNESTY.
313
uiivindicated. It is not that Time is waitinnr for our drao*-
ging system of evangelism to catch up with and direct the
good work of Amnesty, nor that its virtues may oidy
be developed through the slow progress made by our pio-
neers in their eftbrts to civilize. Indeed, it works in one
sense, independently of them, and frequently the two are
so much at variance that what the one com[)letes in reve-
rence the other topples over with indifference. And yet,
notwithstanding our difficulty in reconciling our actions
to Time's decrees while living, insensibly it is working in
many ways for our good, and long after we have been de-
prived of other means to justify our deeds, it gainers up
and cherishes those redeeming traits by which they are
vindicated and that we are held in kindly remembrance.
XVII.
There are many evidences that go far to place Time not
only in the first rank of pacificators, Tmt to entitle it as
we have said to the rare distinction of Ijein^j the cjreatest
and most effectual ameliorator of ill-will. It is a com-
mon saying that " second thoughts are always best " — they
are certainly kindest — and if the fraction of a second is
sufficient to change the harsh retort into a gentle response,
then what may be expected of months, years, centuries ?
Even great qualities may not be fully appreciated, in fact
they rarely are till time has sanctified them and then they
stand out pure and noble and are beloved and emulated.
So it is with deeds of the past; and much of that evil that
stigmatized a formei- age and rendered its people dospiea-
fi
it'i
314
REVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKER.
I if;
r1 i
ble, has grown obsolete as the flesh that inspired it moul-
dered away into dust. Then, the better spirit which re-
trieves is alone remembered, and disembarrassed of the
baser material, comes to be regarded as the most perfect of
all virtue, the most exemplary of all goodness.
Thus it is that all true greatness is retrospective, as
also the little of good-nature inherent in all and even
the worst actions; and, in this way, the very atrocities
of a remote age have sought and found absolution in
lapse of time. Then, as the strongholds of medi-
aeval vice and arrogance crumble away, the outlines
that still remain are treasured up and pointed to in
this age as trophies won by the higher order of en-
lightenment, from the older period of so-called darkness
and tyranny; and even in the association of two such oppos-
ing elements, time has eked out a better comprehension of
truth, and — we might at least hope — a kindlier spirit of
forgiveness.
We point to the Tower of London, or to the Dun-
geons of the Inquisition, and those grimy tableaux over-
shadowed as they are with historic deeds of darkness, be-
token all that was once most cruel and barbarous. Cries
long hushed in anguish seem re-animated and to call for
vengeance ; but we enter and see the hand- writing on the
walls, — there too are the " rack," the " block," the " axe,"
all worn and hacked and nicked in a use the most dread-
ful and appalling, — and we weep and turn from the bloody
reminiscences only with a softened feeling of pity. So it
is, also, that the ** cross," the " spikes/' the " crown of
"i
AMNKSTY.
315
thorns," once the instruments of a ili{il)oliciil assassination
are come to be regarded, not as the gh.'istly souvenirs of
" man's inhumanity to man," but as the most precious
symbols of that new and happier destiny wherein tlio
" end justifies the means. We do not regard the deed as
tlie crime of the few only, but as a reproach to the whole
human race ; we do not even condemn the perpetrators—
we cannot ; they were only the meaner instruments in the
partial execution of a great design and " they knew not
what they did."
What I have said, by way of tribute, of redeeming fea-
tures in what seems a dreadful scourge, I have said and
believe to be true ; but while this view obtains in a cer-
tain retrieving sense as regards the faults of a people, and
as such J apply it gladly, nevertheless, the thought of
Time as the ravager which it is so natural to feel it to be,
intrudes itself like a black pall even in the effort to speak
kindly of it, and hence, I yield my guerdon of praise
grudgingly, joylessly. — It is, indeed, an eulogy in which
pathos deepens into pain ; insomuch that notwithstanding
the blessedness of Time's redemption one feels in the im-
pulse of the flesh a yearning tenderness to get back again
that precious boon, — the price it costs ! It is inexpres-
sibly sad that Time, which robs us of our youth, our
beauty, our love, our life, — may alone come to tlie rescue
of our good name. — Nay, but then, as if remorseful for
the havoc it has made, it comes back, a dove to tell us,
" wrath has been appeased," and that " the elements have
subsided," Time ! thou dreaded chastener, art indeed our
■ ■ 1 1
i:
316
REVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKER.
J;..
mmh\
14* '
lit *
friend ? — it is a lon<^ sleep we liave cuddled in thy lap,
but there is a consolation in knowing that when wo
wake, the voracious monster that would devour all kindly
remembrance shall have vanished, and in its place there
Hit, fanning our face with its perfumed wing, only tho
harmless butterfly. Go back to earth thou tiny thing and
bid those who love us rejoice ! — for time is oblivion, and
spite losing its venom in forgetfulness, turns from the
chrysalis of a crawling worm — takes wings and flies
away !!
;,,;•. .; XVIII. ^ ,:_ , ^ ;■ . ;1,,,:;: '
At this juncture, in what I trust may not have been
altogether an unpardonable digression, and bearing in
mind whatever lessons may be gleaned from the forego-
ing, we now turn our attention to a portion of that class
whom we introduced in another part under the head of
failure. There is a tier of failure amongst failures, as
much under that we have refeired to as it, in its turn, is
lower than the comparatively successful stage above. And
here let me say, whoever may be disposed to favor thoso
in this, the lowest grade, need not despair if he looks only
to his clients and himself for encouragement; for, notwith-
standing the obstacles cast in their way by those who may
seek to disparage their cause, he will find no greater dif-
ficulties than that shabby pair Truth and Merit, them-
selves, often have in proving and establishing their claims
to consideration and patronage.
AMNESTY.
317
It is obsoi'vablc that Benevolence, in the broad tieM ami
abundant variety outspread before it, <^enerally, and I may
say naturally, sheds the light of its benignant countenance
not on the darkest but brightest spots; selecting, invariably,
such cases as seem most entitled to "charitable" distinction.
These latter constitute the oases in the broad desert;
the fortunate ones amongst the unfortunate, and represent,
of course, the most exemplary distress. In my hundjle ef-
forts in behalf of the unfortunate generally, it is not my
purpose, however agreeable the task might be, to advo-
cate that virtuous sympathy which culls out those par-
ticularly whose qualifications render them especially
eligible to succor, and who manage, under the most criti-
cal inspection, to come up to the high-toned, exclusive
standard which it is thought proper in these cases to bring
to bear. I desire it to be understood, however, it is not
that I bear the set last referred to any malice, that I don't
go in all for them as others do ; nay, it is because these
favored ones are so abundantly able to maintain their
own character without any help, that I curtail my good
offices. In fact, I could say nothing to improve their con-
dition in this respect, and any attempt on my part might
result in my making myself disagreeable ; besides, novice
as I am, I might blunder and injure a cause in which
many of them are a professional, not to say, beggarly sort
of success. Mind, I do not exclude them, but those others
in whose behalf I would seek to raise the most pathetic
notes in my weak voice, and touch most gently and lov-
ingly the tenderest chords in human sympathy, include
I
i ! ,li
•v'# ■
r '.i
318
RKVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER
those who are so low and degraded that J, at least, am en-
coura<xed to feel any effort on my part may not, nay, cannot
result in their further dispamgement or abasement.
Many of these are not only pronounced by our most re-
spectable authorities, but feel themselves, hopelessly de-
praved and irrevocably lost, and by all but those similarly
situated are utterly and severely abandoned. In the case
of many of these, buffeted and kicked from pillar to post,
it is impossible for us to realize or it may be to ease their
condition. They are so badly off they feel they have for-
feited all claim to help of any sort, and much less do they
look for any degree of reform or prosperity ; besides, they
are too brutalized to be able to look down, as most people
can, and be comforted in the reflection there are others worse
off than themselves. As all about is scorn and repulsion,
they can feel in that quarter no particle of hope, and their
little, rapidly-contracting world,on all its four walls, looks
black,and grim, and drear. A fashionable exhibit of so-
called " charity," may now and then put its gloved hand
through the chinks, or, with its embroidered and perfumed
handkerchief to its sensitive nose, makes its appearance
bodily ; then, indeed, like a bit of canvas to the castaway,
even that is no doubt a welcome speck looming in the visi-
ble horizon; but there it dwindles away to the infinitesi-
mal, leaving only such an impression on the mind as is
produced by the latest novelty in the genus nebula.
IJP4.
XIX.
None probably will deny that these poor creatures suf-
fer, and I only wish I may be exaggerating when I say
k-'l I h§:
-J,
AMNKSTY.
nin
one sober, consciouK moment in to tlu'ni hoin's of intoler-
able anguish. Lsit surprising or unnatural then, they shouM
seek a " Lethe" in wliatever may assuage pain, and offer
them ever so brief a respite ? So they <lrain the tk'adi'n-
ing (Irauglit with a gladsome sigh, as those in the luxury of
liigh-toned moral living would tooth-ache drops ; their
only enjoyment being the to tliem inettable bliss that fla-
vors the dregs, and tlie abatement, it may be ever so little,
of a dreadful, hopeless remoi*se.
Thisis theclasswhose enormitiesandsufferingsourmoral-
agony painters attempt to portray in the luxury of their
leisure hours, and it is to them that we are indebted for those
dreadful scenes of privation and atrocity depicted, not so
much for the benefit of the poor and miserable, as in a
warning way to admonish the rich and the gay. That is, 1
mean, not so much to mitigate the disti*ess of the former as
to season the pleasures of the latter. They are the vile and
incorrigible, w- >m our moral doctors have long since given
over,orrather ignored altogether, and from whom the better
community shrink from in disgust, or point to in triuniph
and self -satisfaction, as offering the best reason for their own
want of "charity." They are a crouching, shivering, tattered
l>and, with minds all debased, pnd their every thought
and action seemingly under the baleful dominion of the
most abominable brutality and wickedness.
Can there be anything about this grade of misfortune to
invite sympathy ? I maybe committing a grievous error by
not joining my voice in the chorus of pious condenmation
which consigns these poor creatures to the devil ; I sadly,
4 !'
i-N
^1,
i |t
n2o
REV I RIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
I lour, too, T am wantinj^ in respect for that virtuous iinlii^^-
natiou wliicli points to thcin only as illustrating^ the <hea(l-
ful ami inevitable judgment visited on all departures from
those rules and regulations by which people, aspiring to a
very high reward and a supe?-abundant felicity, feel it
worth while to be guided.
Here it occurd to me a.s being a nice ( question, how-
far one can befriend these hopeless ones without givinnj
offence. If a kind word in their behalf, for instance,
would seem, as it might to some, an eulogy, what will
be thought of sucli a shocking misplaoement of philan-
thropic eloquence as shall seek in them to embellish
even so mean a virtue as, like a lost diamond, may
be found glistening in the filth of such degradation.
If one sees it, recognises it, and knows it to be genuine, how
shall he know exactly what estimate to put upon it? Aye,
what shall be the measure of praise to be awarded in our
admiration of a jewel so rare, even amongst the best of us,
so that while we may not be so shabby as to underrate its
real worth, we may not, at the same time, commit the un-
pardonable blunder of adding a cypher too much !
In other words, if one happen to be so imprudent as to
give the reins to his feelings, how may he know when to stop
in time so he may not exaggerate their redeeming traits
and thereby make them appear too deserving ? To err in
this respect would be to commit a most shocking, I may
say, an unprecedented im[>ropriety, and yet I think Jus-
tice would be the least angry, and the great Judge-in-
Equity, Himself, less offended and scandalized 4han those
who seek in condemning to forestall his wrath.
AMNKSTV.
nsi
)ii.s in<li;j;-
,hc diem I -
ures from
liring to a
:,y, feel it
itiou, how
out giving
• instance,
what will
of philan-
embellish
nond, may
esradation.
inuine,how
nit? Aye,
i-ded in our
3 best of u«,
dcrratc its
nit the un-
niich !
udent as to
hen to stop
iiing traits
To err in
ing, I may
think Jus-
Judge-in-
fehan those
Wliiic I wuuM not Jihjnio tlic stain- fa<t that dt)les out
to them a modicum of credit, I would try and discover in
tlie more generous and ever fresli ahundance of imai^ination
the nu'ans to polish it up. This is doubtless a poor srasoniii;^
for a crust — a kind word only -and (jfKus notliing, in one
sense, eitlier to eat or to driuk or to wear, luit it were a
poor tribute, indeed, that did not knead into it a little of
the Hpice of better cheer, — a littU? of the mellowing, expand-
ing luxury of liope, — and after all a eiunib of that is worth
a whole loaf of despair. Far l)e it from my purj^osc; to scre<'n
their faults; for in nusfortun»3, and even iid'aniy, these are,
in one sense, what the wounds of Roman generals were in
glory, only not to exult in, but to mourn over. — Nay, so
far^m I from covering them up, that 1 would hamlle them
tenderly as hurts all sensitive and pali)itating with ])ain.
This set is to the m(jre modei'ate tier of failure, what it
in its turn is to the v/ell-to-do class, whom we hav<' desig-
nated by the term success. Between these strata the
lines of demarcation are marketl as l)y the rough edges of
(liifting, grating ice, moved by counter currents in oppo-
site directions, but all pertaining to one great element,
whose general ten<lency is down stream toward a connnon
<lestiny. Each one of these grades, to speak in a critical
sort of way, may be regarded as a deformity to the orje
above it, in all of which, however, exclusion or excepiion
Would simply result in general expulsion.
Having to take the good, bad and indifferent together in
the composition of individuals, then why not apply this
principle to the grades that go to make up tin- ^leat body
U
I
^ 4.!
d22
•mVEIUKS OF
OU) RMoKF.n.
of mankind ? an<1 regarding humanity as intact, we mnnt
then, as in contracts, take all parts to get at the proper
interpretation and estimate of the wliole. In this vi»'w,
our triumph:) and defeats, our succeiises and failures, are
interlaced in the warp and woof of existence ; and whi li-
the woi"st may claim a common identity witli tlie best,
the latter may no more shake oif the disahilities of the
former than a cripj>le can repudiate his deformity or a
bhnd man liis blindness.
XX.
i'i\i
I 1 '
\WM'. til
In looking over the great army of unfortunates, and
having regard for that sympathy which may propitiate Am-
nesty both in this and in the other world, we need not sto])
to discuss the c \sti(m who is to blame; suttice to say all
are to blame; whether the prolific family of Failmv
brought sufi'ering on themselves oi' were born to it, it is suf-
ficient for our purpose to know they are in trouble. Indeetl,
their dream of Paradise is only such an Elysium as that
which the higher orders possess, although they may not
enjoy. Many of them, as we have observed, are degraded
and despicable ; whether, however, they seem more so than
they really are, is a question turning upon the spirit in
which we regard them; but be this as it may, in high tonid
nostrils they are in bad odour. They are steerage passcn-
engers away forward where the sight and smell of them
will not give offence to the more dainty occupants of tlit'
grand saloon. They are not named in the list the world
sees, but are lumped as fifty or a hundred, more or less,
AMNESTV,
.Sin
"Steerage." Each of tlu'so Ims n soul, (loii]»(l«'.ss, aii<l in a
j^reator or less (li'^rior all the vuiioiis attrilmtes that "lis-
tin<,'uished tlieir worthy progenitor, A(him ; hut then, they
are so numerous, besides, their names are of no account,
anyway, (except they are lost), so they are tU'signated in
lierds.
As our ortliodoxy would class ihi'in, I lu'lieve over nine-
tenths full outside the pale of the ( 'hristian catalogue; and
80 they are located, as are the l)arbarous non-descript
tribes of interior Africa — tliere, we know is a great exr
tent of territory, which is populated, and that is all. We
leave it a place in the geograjdiy (of the mind) and to dis-
criminate between it and its surroundings, kindly and
knowingly give it a dash of pink or yellow.
Would-be j)hilantln-opists whose sym])athies are intlu-
enced very much by pocket-editions of other people's
troubles, and humanitarians who suffer many (h'mands
on tbeir compassion, like this sort of nua}) very much.
They are not troublesome and give all demands on their
" charity," the enchantment of distance and the superior
attractiveness of a " foreign mission." If, fortunately, the
the distressful locality be surrounded by a cool strip of
water two or three thousand nules wide, so much the bet-
ter, as the boundaries arc moie easily given and main-
tained.
It may be said this is hardly a fair comparison even
for the great Arab family amongst us— giving them so
much blank space. Well, it must be admitted they
do have some characteristics peculiar to civilization. I
I
!f
f,- I
:. tl
m
u.
I!
S24
llEVEiliteS OP AN OLD SMOKER.
tliink, indt'od, it is possible tbcy liavo degrees of merit,
in their way, and "caste," too. Yes, they liave tlieii*
grades ; they have their proud and their humble men
and women, — to some of whom it is the last ditcli of
quondam snobbery and of BeauBrummel-ism. — They have
their chiefs and moguls ; their great leaders in social and
political economy; their oracles and men of renown. All
these and myriads more, and still so far as the upper class
of our noble country's good inhabitants are concerned, if
they or the thought of them happen to intrude at all, they
are dismissed with feelings of contempt and aversion.
Tn the eyes of aristocratical evangelism, and with a great
many zealous advocates of " foreign missions," their homos
are only haunts of wickedness, and the occupants wallow-
ing in the filth and mire of moral corruption. Generally
speaking, however, they are simply ignored ; or, when
forced upon our notice, present about as barren a field for
polite observation and cultured study, as the map of Africa
or the desert of Sahara.
It is wonderful to reflect how these people keep pace
with " Civilization ;" but they do, that is^ as tho tag-rag
and bob-tail one sees on gala-days hanging on to the out-
skirts of military bands and Lord Mayor's shows. They
are swept by the coat-tails of more important humanity,
like dirt, into the cracks and crevices opened up by mean-
dering street pageants ; and constitute for the most part,
what the parent of Hamlet calls " The blunt monster witli
countless heads." They wait upon Czars, welcome Shalis,
and gape at royalty, and pull and haul. They vegetate
xi yiHrar
Ml .' !
AMNESTY.
325
like mushrooniH, in the damn and <Au(nn of the fetid ni«dit-
sliade,and on a given signal rise right up. seemingly from
the very pores of the earth, as did the warriors of Clan-
Alpine, and disappear as (juickly ; but whence they come
and whither they go we know naught nor take the trouble
to enquire. At the same time, we have a creeping con-
sciousness that all that is most corrupt and diabolical on
earth is crowded somewhere within the confines of their
murky sphere.
Were these people not so numerous and so common, we
should look upon them as monsters, that it would be some-
thing to say we had seen ; as it is we feel it dangerous to
get too near. They are to be seen in that most wretched
thoroughfare, Radcliffe-High way, in London; in the dirty
dens of Wapping, and in the higher-toned penury and
vice that flit in the classic shades of Drury-Lane. They
have been known to venture as far away from these
genial haunts as St. JamCvs' Park, — especially on "Draw-
ing-room" days — and have been caught alive staring
with blank amazement in at the carriage windows, feast-
ing their eyes on the gauzy clouds of silks, and satins, and
feathers that go to make up the dazzling and bewildering
paraphernalia of titled dames and peerless beauties. Aye,
and by such as these, are legar'led, if seen at all, as peo-
ple sailing down the back rivers of Florida, look upon
the alligators baskin^; in the sun on the banks.
I w^onder if these great people ever think that that
miserable human herd is recruited from some of the best
feimilies in the land; that many amongst them, mdeed,coulcl
kl:
I:
326
IIKVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
trace their genealogical descent down from a period coeval
with the Norman Conquest. Only a slight irregularity in
the birth of some, that is all ; l^ut no more than gi-eat
people in the past were liable to, even to the extent of
makintr the legitimate succession to the "Crown" a matter
of high-toned com})etition. Others of these have only fallen
from wealth and mere social greatness ; but of all the
class of whom we speak these probably constitute the
worst ingredients. That is to say, in their obduracy not
to become reconciled, they plunge into deeper depra-
vity and take on and disgrace those others whose birth-
right for the most part is poverty, and whose ways
beinof faithful to their antecedents, are in accord with
privation and misery.
In this connection we may add, — can any one who has
not experienced it, measure the depth of bitterness that
must be felt by this set ; I mean those let down from
wealth, reduced from affluence, and whose misfortunes
have brought them and their children to this low ebl)'
What grave treason have they committed against tho
moral sovereignty of the world, to be thus ostracised ?
What mysterious law of expiation are they fulfilling, to
be thus cast down and humbled in the dust. Talk
of trouble, what must these discarded favorites of for-
tune suffer, ejected, as it is no exaggeration to pre-
sume some have been, from manorial homesteads, where
pride and affection may have nourished and venerated tlie
kindred growths of generations; many, too, dragged down
from positions in a society whose social attvactions, edn-
AMNEvSTY.
327
cation, habit and intercourse had not only rendered pleas-
ing diversions but vital and necessary ties. And to be
thrust, like Daniel, all naked, into a den where to them
the beasts, though human, seem even less congenial than
lions and not less repulsive than reptiles ! It is kennelling
in the vestibule of hell, to be tantalized by all the cher-
ished memories of the other Paradise ! — aye, and in compa-
rison the fate of Robinson Crusoe — the worst disaster tho
most exquisite imagination could devise — were a peaccjful
and grateful solace, — and that of the "Iron Mask," or
the living tomb of the "Chateau d'lf," a luxury !
XXI.
These select ones probably realize, more acutely than
their more brutalized associates, that the miserable sphere
into which fate has driven them is, after all, the verita-
ble Pandemonium whose terrors, in a way, inspire our zeal
to obtain Earth's immunity, and to merit Heaven's eternal
exemption. Now, while this Pandemonium amongst us is
no classic myth, nevertheless, we may observe in this con-
nection, that many of its most obnoxious features come of
false and absurd impressions ; and in this case, as in many
others, we have obtained our notions of this more miserable
[)art of our existence through a medium of gross exagger-
ation ; all so far, however, sanctified by expediency as that
it strengthens our incentive to work and to pray.
Indeed, a great deal of our zeal to get a larger share
of enjoyment, both in this and tV 3 next world, is anima-
ted by placing in contradistinction two extremes, — one
\'- t
i;'
828
REVKllIES OK AN OLD SMOKER.
good, the other bad — and we increase the charms of the
one by simply adding to tlio horrors of the other ; but
as we are bottei- fitted l)y nature to apj)reciate what is bad,
that extreme is dilated upon witli a view to fa voting th(j
contrast of good.
To such an excess, however, is tliis process cariied,
that parts of our future estate, as well as of our present
lieautiful world, are made to appear to our modrni
intelligent and naturally libei'al mind, as veritable bug-
a-boos ; and, as in the days of paganism, the impsof Satan
were made to appear in festive intercourse with certain
dwellers of the earth, so now, portions of the human
family are thought to have become merged in a species of
ghouls, into which the rest of us, if we do so and so, shall
also be changed. They say this is the result of not doing
as we ought to have done, and to attempt to propitiate or
to excuse the aspect of this dreadful antipodes of virtue
and rectitude, is about as unorthodox and thankless a
task as to endeavor, by any means, to abate, by even so
nmch as one jot or tittle, that etei'nity of misery which
our theological doctors and churchmen have piously pre-
scribed for the souls of the wicked in another Avorld.
From this dreadful scare-crow of poverty, brutality, and
ignorance, we are made to see our refuge in those agree-
able attributes pertaining to an opposite goal of wealtli
and refinement.
Now then, to say our highest acquirements and ad-
vancement in this direction leave us virtually no better
than those we stigmatize, would be to degrade and to
AMNESTY.
:J21)
disenchant all incentive to improve. NevertholesH, sav- ~
in*-- and exceptin<,^ the wisdom of such views as may be
dictated by policy, I venture toattirm that those supt;rior
social attractions pertaining to the condition of the one,
are greatly over estimated in their moral effects, and that
our average devotee of fashion is no whit better than his
ragged brother in penury and reprobation. In other words, ,
that the great discrepancy weseek so strenuously to establish
and maintain between individuals and classes, are artifi-
cial and altogether abnoiinal, and much of the superiority
arrogated by the upper set, no better than comforting de-
lusions, partaking rather of pride than virtue, and indica
ting actually only such extraneous merit as pertains to ap-
pearances. Hence it is, too, our sense of superiority as a
class should find its most appiopriate expression, not in
sympathy, but aversion — not in amnesty, but in strife.
XXII.
To become reconciled to this view, it is necessary either
to practise a little wholesome humility, or to cultivate a
hiirher esteem for our less fortunate fellow-creatures. And
here, we may pertinently remark, that there is no position
in life, however lowly, in which a person with an ordinary
endowment of reason, and a properly appreciative mind,
may not look down still lower and feel a profound sense
of gratification at his elevation : and, conversely, there is
no position, however high, that with our yearning instincts
on the wing, will not make our abasement seem compara-
tively contemptible. Inasmuch, then, as the standard, not
330
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
Apr
only of "success," but of morality may be raised to infinity,
so any position, or any reputation under heaven, is as in-
finitely mean and low as the other is infinitely high and
perfect. Thus in all things are we exalted in looking down,
and humbled in looking up, and just in proportion to our
ability to see high are we enabled to feel low. It follows
that the higher our conception of an all perfect character,
the greater our consciousness of personal deformity,
and the thinner and more insignificant the degrees of
merit we see about us. Down on the earth, people who
are an inch or two taller than the average, look like giants,
but the higher we rise above them the more do these
differences blend, till they are seen to harmonize. Then, too,
persons who can conceive no standard other than self, or the
favored set about them, are utterly unable to feel any sen-
timent but the most vain and bigoted towards those be-
neath, and their impression^f God himself is as stinted as
their appreciation on earth of His image, — no matter if it
be seen in the disguise of the most abject degradation.
Again, while it is commendable in some respects, never-
thless there is something faulty in the fact that many pco-
{)le not unfrequently bring to bear in their criticism of each
other that standard which is their loftiest conception of
splendid qualities ; so high, indeed, that it is rather an ideal
of moral heroism and the romance of virtue than that disap-
pointing sort we see and call " fogy." With this most per-
fect model to which, in our conceit, we are ever making
love and are jealous of, we compare the homely and scarred
visage of others' characters and their every day's hackneyed
'■^■«^ ii
AMNESTY.
3:u
(loinga. Ah, but if their appearance, only stiiined with the
sweat and toil of a busy (lay,(li.sgu.sts us, what shall we think
of their mistakes, and how shall we express our contempt
and reprobation for their faults. This ideal as regards
ourselves becomes identified, not so much with our heiiifr
as with our self-esteem, and though at first it may have
been only the i-emote pattern to which we aspired to mould
a living copy — later, old and ugly, it is this image in self we
contemplate as self, and behold reflected therein all that
is most graceful, juvenile, and lovable.
In a social estimate, taking the lowest positicmas a stand-
point, all above are successes, and as any pitch in the scale
to which we may attain, simply raises the standard by
which we judge, it follows that the higher stations in life
need not raise men appreciably one above another, and that
why they seem exalted to some, is because they are below
and look up. We boast of our refinement, but if it raised
the standard by which we judge to anything approximating
wliat is perfect, the result would be that the proudest moral
autocrat would not feel in the slightest above the lowest
of his subjects — nay, and but little, if indeed any, better
than the meanest and most depraved in not his but God's
kingdom. -
This train of thought disi)Oses one to think that taking
all the evidence commonly accepted as showing one class
of men to be the greatest and best, and another to be
the most depraved and w^orst, the social scale will indicjtte
opposite spheres of good and bad ; but if we take either
of these separately, or both together, though it ma^ not
li'S'2
RKVKUIES OF AN OLD SMOKKU.
h •>•!<■*
« s i
ha ilciiionstrated, I feel fairly justiHe«l iii attinuin<^ that
an impartial inquiry into all the circumstances, and a rii,'i(l
))rol>in«,' of all the testimony — not simply that IS, but could
BK adduced, — would so far equalize the apparent discn-
pancy as to make the two sides balance.
.-:.■.,■:;,;; ^' ,- ' xxiii.
The fact is, good and ill in our natures are not anti-
podal but merge like the colors of the solar spectrum ;
and, as in the case of light, so with human virtue, strip-
})ed of its illusions one sha«le predominates, — that
is, black ! Again, that notch in the moral scale whioli
marks the highest elevation, is only separated by an in-
finitesimal space from that indistinguishable degree he-
low which crowns the summit of highest corruption ; and
though that may not be the depth of lowest depravity, it
is, none the less, the point of highest culpability.
In this connection, we may glance at what may be term
ed the subtle affi^nity of (jpifosites. Much of our disposi-
tion to glorify superiority in men comes of our regardini,'
"talent" as a virtue, and the fortunate possessor, in our pre-
disposition to idolize, is exalted into such an object ot
a<loration as can be conceived only from an ideal stand-
point.
In elaboration of this idea, Ave may note, it is not
always true that a man may be correctly known by his
works, for these may convey a sentiment the very oppo-
site of his real character, and be either conceived in ap-
po.sition to, or evolved in the n)ysterious providence of, an
k'l: r
AM NEST V.
XV,\
opposln*^' spirit. In the conflict of opinion concerning
men of note, vvc may call attention to Uk; fact that they
have two characters: the (me, private an«l n^al ; tlu' other,
public and ideal. The relative merits and demerits of
Itoth are disputed and maintained; but, as is ^fenerally
the case, the better view naturally prevails, — then, wliilo
the former dies, tlie latter, which is furthest from the
tell-tale Hesh, lives, and is the one by whi(;h posteiity
professes accpiaintance and passes jud<^aiient.
The exception taken here is, that this impression is not
obtained from personal intimacy and contact with tn(!
man, but, what is a very diff'cicnt thinfr, familiarity with
his works. These, in the case of literary m<3n, and the
majority of others, it requires no argument to show may
color our spectacles with ideal fancies ; and, in the pros-
])ect thus presented of a brighter conception of livin;,',
we are only too pleased to ignore or forget the r(*al
tableau of a poor miserable mortal Iik<; (jurselves, weighed
down with the ignoble burden of ordinary human failings.
The fact is, that just inasmuch as the wiitten record
of individuals differs from the living, is the former
cherished agent of conservatism made the means, not of
their preservation, but extinction. And in runnnaging
the dark corners and dusty culjby-holes of old-worM
literature, we find, with rare exceptions, that however
opposed to the impression conveyed by their works, the
authors of some of the finest productions in the domain,
not simply of letters Init the adjoining field of |jolities,
were in their private life what, if we hesitate to call profli-
d34
UF.VERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKER.
gate, des«olute, vile, it is only lK.'caii8o we feci they are de«-
erving of those choicer epithets which, nienning tlie sam«'
thing, have been invented by polite society to be applied in
ca.ses where outrage and enormity are palliated by educa-
tion and refinement.
XXIV.
It may seem invidious to refer to th«-,se draw-backs, but
the spirits of tlie great men we honor, are become so
thoroughly emancipated from the flesh, that the recollec-
tion of even their misdeeds seems to restore to them that
humanizing influence which commends them to our sym-
pathies. — In this respect, then, amid so nmch that is only
fancifully God-like, it no longer detracts from our heroes to
be assured they were only men. Hence,we feel less delicacy
in saying, that many of those whose bright intellects
constitute the major part of that brilliant constellation
to which I refer, and who have described so cleverly and
pathetically the wiles and vicissitudes of man and society,
were themselves the sport of the very appetites and pro-
pensities they held up, with so much zeal, wisdom, and
eloquence, to public reprobation.
It would seem, in the case of some, their very efforts con-
spiring with the antagonism they sought to overthrow,
they fell all the easier victims to those temptations and ins
which their vivid imaginations had exaggerated and in-
tensified. With others, however, it is harder to excuse
the fact that, inconsistent as it may seem with the
fine and salutary precepts evolved in their literary and
Public career, in their private life and personal habits
AMNKSTY.
t^urj
they were a Hvinj,' lie to tlic sincerity of their profes-
sions ami covertly evinced the most uhoiiiinahle disrej^mnl
for the simplest dictates of morahty and even human-
ity. Tlie evil one within tliem, it is true, may liave whis-
pered sublime thin<,% hut it was only to embellish those
hazy lines of demarcation thatjlistinj^niish the kingdom of
Satan, from the Dominion of the Immaculate. And then,
indeed, their most virtuous efforts may be likene<l to tlie
remorse of tlie drunkard entoning with greatest patlios
the lessons of sobriety; — th'' veriest rogue haunted with
fairest image of honesty; — and, the hypocrite enchanted
with the most angelic vision of i)iety !
Thus, too, in a greater degree than is commonly sup-
posed or allowed, must these men have not only
needed, but absolutely possessed, all the wickeder prompt-
ings of the devil himself to have enabled them so
coiTCctly and gra])hically to interpret the hieroglyphical
language of the human heart, and, not only to divine
in others but to exemplify in themselves those gor-
geous contrasts of opposite qualities. With men of
letters, they have managed to maintain the empire which
mere fancy has reared in our hearts ; having won the title
liy which we esteem them, by giving to the world a cr<'a-
tion of matchless heroes and splendid principles, in whose
sublime characters and resistless precepts we have em-
balmed the memoirs of the authors. For example, we do
not think of Dean Swift, as the remorseless iconoclast
desolating the beatiful world of woman's love, but as the
iiero of those inimitable "Travels," whose charming fancies
first explored the wondrous land of Lilliputia. —
:\'M\
UKVKIUKS OK AN oM) SMOKKU.
il
„ '(
11
1
■jj
hi -^
1
\Vc il«> not tliink of Hyroii, as the iuliuiiian iiioiisU!!'
whoHc crime 1ms <^iv('n rise to tho most atrocious liUel on
record, but as the Ijoyisli "Juan," the maturor " Manfrrd,"
and still riper pntiiot. -We do not tldnk of Ai)('lard,as
tlic l>otray«'r of a sacred trust, but as tlie pious nuirtyr, —
consumed in a flame from whose embers spran<^ the darling;
of H^iloisa. — Finally, we do not think of Kd<,'ar Allan Poe,
as the dru!iken maniac dis<^raein<,' the little circle of his
social orbit, but as the muse whose sweet minstrelsy in-
spired •' The Raven ! "
In the case, however, of the compeers of a goodly num-
ber of these men in the kindred line of politics, the se-
(piel peculiarly incident to the latter sphere, tells a differ-
ent tale ; also, further illustrating^ the two character [)he-
nomenon before mentioned. The political views of Rienzi
were of the most exalted description, and not only those
of an astute statesman but such as became, what he reallv
appeared to be, a patriot and true lover of his country.
He was withal a poet as well as a politician, and not only
a scholar but a gen'ais ; and, on the strength of these cpiali-
fieations,mounted from the lowest to the highest stations in
a country where liis predecessors were Cjesar, and, Augus-
tus. His latter career, however, as dictator developed a
new character so much at variance with the sentimental
one professed while a suppliant for public patronage and
honors, that, with the freedom of unlimited power, he be-
came a tyrant ; unmasking, ere long, and displaying in an
intolerable degree, every trait most despicable in man.
Thenceforward, from being, as he had been for a consider-
AMNESTY.
xn
Ma tiiiio, tlu) bcnofuctor ainl idol of a ;;rati'ful ami a«lor-
in^' pt'oplo, on tin; true and not tho a-ssuni^d and vijslon-
aiy character of i\\u man Ijecomin;^' known, he wa.s <lo-
graded and .stoned to death by an outraged and indi«r.
nant populace. This case is cited at random ami is only
one of the many we read ahout that go to sustain the
view herein taken.
These examples, we may add, tinally, are not conlined
to profane ranks ; nay, we lind them in the a<lorahle com-
l)any of the divinely inspir«Ml. W(! luivo 8u])stantial cvi-
ilences going far to .show that iMahomet was tlui greate.it
preacher and the most powerful leader of evangelical ro-
furm the world has ever seen. — By his personal ell'orts
he founded or least c<)mj)iled a cree<l,and converted to his
views a goodly share of the population of the globe. But
however effectually he may have played the part of
prophet and preceptor, as frieml and as man, in his social
relations (if we may credit the most unbia.ss(Ml of (jur au-
thorities), he was a brute who.se carnal instincts made him
a mammoth animal, whose relaxation from the rigois of
penitential office, was spent wallowing in the mire and
tilth of unbounded lust.
I >■
XXV.
As T have said, I do not seek these cases and (piote
them invidiously ; — in favoring the uncouth but robust
claims of the ma.sses it must be to some extent in dis-
paragement of that more refined mania, who.se delirium
is hero-worship. If I decline, then, to shrink from such
Y
338
REVKIUKS OF AN OLD SMOKKll.
J*
IS:'
^.'#**
• M i s; !i
[1 . uijs.,
ni
1 J'*,
i^
an 'incfoiiial and unpopular task, it is because I I'oel
tlie tendency in tlie case of merit, as in tliat of property,
is, and always has been, outrageously in favor of gigan-
tic, isolated monopoly ; the effect of which is not only
to aggrandize the minority, but to canonize the few at
the expense of the man}'. Exalting to absurd heights
spots here and there, and depressing in like ratio the
general surface of mankind, is not a fault of modern birth ;
it obtained in ancient times, and we have only to look
back a few thousand years, to behold the hierarchy of
those days degrading humankind, and elevating tutelar
deities. It was the glorification of individuals that cul-
minated in the " Heroic Age " of Grecian fable ! And
since then, and up to this day, the system and practice
of beatifying and sublimating men, whose business and
abilities have made them simply eligible subjects, is illus-
trated, and will be perpetuated, in the questionable teach-
ing of a Theology which not only endows certain persons
with the attributes of an all-mighty superiority, but sets
rival bodies and jealous people in conflict as the proxies
of contending gods. In<leed, it is commonly inculcated,
that the spirit of the supernatural incarnate may be sup-
posed from time to time to spring out of the very bone of
contention — to father and champion hostile sects whose
chief virtue is in their mutual hatred of each other's crimes
and their unbounded faith in the spiritual leadership of a
being apart from the Omnipotent. . ^
Nay, the phase of hero-worship obtaining to day, is
only another form of the old pagan fallacy, to dispel which,
AMNESTY.
339
wliilc tletiactin^^ tVom the preposterous pivtensioiis of tho
few, would raise tho standard of the many ! It would dis-
perse the oligarchy of merit, but distribute its sinecures
amongst the people ! Temporal kings and peers and sun-
dry lords would go by the board — all the lofty pinnacles
reared in false glory would topple and fall like the temples
of Isis and Serapis ! — but, by the sweeping down of those
star-crested domes, toilsome r •••^•vities would be levelled, —
great valleys and yawnirif chn ms would be filled — and,
without prostrating the higii isoandard of pu])lic virtue,
we should see, not the exaltation of the few and the cor-
responding degradation of the many, but a gn^at universal
upheaval of the common sea-level of mankind.
l:
XXVI.
• Regarding those whose portion in this world is priva-
tion and misery combined, and whose prostration hides
them from the view of most people, I would reiterate
what I said in another place, to wit : that in the two
classes popularly known as high and low, the latter ex-
hibits the most marked traits of character. — But how, it
may be urged, can there be shown any greater character-
istics than those exemplified in the lives of our " great
men ? " Well, theirs is the greatness of heads and pro-
portionately less a measure of simple charactei'. It is
easy, as in the case of Peabody, to be not simply benevolent
but munificent, and that to a degree and in a manner that
shall make all the world resound in praise ; besides, he
evinced what is rare with men generally, that is, as much
340
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
1 I
^\
.1'.
( <
I ft
ability in the disposition of his wealth as he did in its
acquisition. But you say, show me a case to compare
with this one. — Talk of the greatness of character in the
haunts and amongst the filth and vermin and depravity
of the poor, it is not only scandalous to mention such a
thing, but an aspersion on society and civilization and
Christianity !
Yes it is, I will admit, and for that reason it makes it
all the harder to do the miserable set justice ; more
especially, without reflecting somewhat on the upper
classes and even detracting a little from their superiority.
But I have been a little amongst them, and got hold of a
few signs, by which I have been able to penetrate- the
outer vestibule of dirt and degradation. Yes, I have seen a
little what was going on where the world neither pi<-les
nor applauds ; and from what I have observed and know, I
confess it seems to me these people have, or seem to have,
certain peculiarities characteristic of the higher race of men.
There is not, as they appear to me, that ferocity, which the
heroism of our police who capture them, would incline us
to think; nay, nor that ravenous craving for raw and bloody
meat, which is supposed to be inseparable to a condition ul
relapsed barbarity and brutality. They do not, T have noti-
ced, seem to be wanting in stomachs like our ow t, and with
appetites that bear a striking resemblance to ours ; in-
deed, they sniff the air of better living and seem to relish
it, as if they had an instinctive conception of better things.
I have seen atoms among them (youngstej's I mean), even
in some of the more frequented streets of New York and
AMNESTV.
341
tidrulon,— particularly on dark and stormy nhr]\t>^, vvlien
they could conic out like rabbits and have what we would
call a holiday.— Well, I've seen these, actually, peering
through shop windows and gazing with wild,famished eyes,
chattering teeth and watering mouths^ in upon a luscious
wealth of aggravating pies and cakes and frosted dough-
nuts! Aye, and the want of two or three pennies, which
looked to them like great blood-red moons, and in a sphere
quite as remote and unattainable, walled them out as effec-
tually as are we from the good things of that other planet.
Meanwhile the "Dinner" at Delmonico's, and the " Ban-
([uet " at the Lord Mayor's, proceed, and are partaken of
as mere thankless items, intended only to satisfy the higher
toned craving for a change of menu, or something, any-
thing, to mitigate the intolerable nwnotony of dining at
home.
But w^hat have you seen of the older ones, you may
ask, those who have run the full length of crime and de-
bauchery; if you can show me one or two that are worthy
then there is hope. Well, I have seen amongst the cast-
aways of society, women wdiose degradation would shame
brutes, but who displayed a heroism and devotion that
despite all the disfigurement of vice, while it honored and
sustained some of my best conceptions of true womanhood*
threw even the charm of sanctity over the ruin of a lost
character ! I have seen, too, the debased scion of broken
royalty among them, with raiment like the " tattered ban-
ner of a lost cause," and with the witliering pinch of hun-
ger stamped all over him, relax his grip on a treasure
}
n42
nEVKlUES OF AN OLD SMOKkR.
mole precious to him than the wealth of a Crcesus or a
Peabody, — his last penny — and bartering this, his only
claim to kingdom, for a crust, give that away.
XXVII.
i''l
111
if '
< Jit. 1
WW'"'**'', '
Heroism like the above may not be known, — I know it
is not honored and numbered with the " Legion " — never-
theless it deserves all the homage, and more, that we in-
voluntarily yield to the glorious remnant of the gallant
" 8ix Hundred." I bow to a banquet like that; — aye, it
is the crumbs that fall from such a feast that exalt the
spirit and fatten the soul ! And how do examples like
these compare with the benevolence of our Millionaires
or the munificence of our Billionaires ^ They do not shine
on the page of history; — they are not commemorated
amongst the treasured mementos of our national archives;
— they are not recorded in the " annals of our times," nor
do we find the name and date blazoned on the granite walls
of palatial "charities;" — nevertheless, they do not escape
that restless Vigilance that watches the " fall of the spar-
row," and caters to the wants of the tiniest insect.
Now that we come to think of it, how the blank, inhos-
pitable expanse of sand, — the Sahara of scurfdom, — does
change and become peopled with forms and faces whose
uncouth outlines and grim lineaments seem worthy, even
though they do not invite, a second glance. And approach-
ing a little nearer the arid waste we see — can it be possible ?
yes, it is no deceptive mirage for those are indeed grass-
spots, — clover-fields, — flower-beds, — fresh and blooming as
AMNKSTV
l{ y.\
any tluit embeHisli i]u) rielicst of our own fertile IjukIm-
capt'S ! They arc small, veiy .small; in<lee(l, to (li.s(;ov(;r
them we must be looking- especially for them, mihI not
only that, but with eyes that see out of the he-art. 'JMien,
through the dank and fetid atmoHpljci<! that liangs over
them like a malarious mist, are revealed tlios(3 r(Ml(!(!miiiL'
tokens of that ubicpiitous humanity that shines out of tlie
clouds — crops up from the soil — and blossoms in the fis-
sures of the rock ! — And hei-e, amon;;st the most des[)ieabl(!
of heathendom, it is presented to our own mon; cultured
and delicate sensibilities, in its poveity oficfinement, it is
true, but with all its wealth of untutoied ameniti<?s sym-
bolized in the typical sweetness (A blooming, fragrant
Howei*s.
Many people there are who have never seen these par-
ticular garden-spots and discredit their existence. 'I'bey
are difficult and disagreeable, jieihaps, to find — they are
hidden awav behin<l the ble-ak walls that meet tlie <;ye uh
we hurry along the street ; but why should tin; Klys<*e of
our own fancies monopolize all our thoughts 'i W'ego in-
inside, sometimes ; it is true, we do nf>t always liurry by,
but then it is only to wonder at destitution and to cuid'
chise distress. Why do we not visit tliem now and then,
— a^k to see their little garden-spot and find out where
it is ? thev have one somewhere in their nature, and what
a chord you touch when you have discovered the Kona or
the Lily in their hearts '.—It may be- all tliey have that is
pure and undefiled, and the tear-drop on its petals s|;arkles
like the diamond whose lustre may not be dinmied. It is
344
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
a decoration bestowed for soino good deed whicli in this
great battle of life none is so mean as never to have per-
formed; and though the other (|naHties mn,y be all adverse,
and the wearer maimed and mutilated, still this alone n>ay
claim recognition — claim recognition ! aye, it may claim
Camaraderie with a marshal of the Empire !
i^^
.
i{t^
*
Kk*i .
\ •
'i XXVITI.
I am reminded in this connection of an incident that
came under my observation, during one of the many de-
lightful excursions it has been my good fortune to have
made to points of interest in England. It was to the home
of the Guelphs, — that grand old castle of Windsor. On
this occasion I found myself in a crowd not far from
the great gates leading out on the " Long Walk." The
Queen, who had been out for a drive was momentarily ex-
pected to return that way, and T was waiting to have a
good look at her ; a privilege which up to that time I had
not had the good fortune to obtain. I had not long to
wait before there came in view a very plain equipage, which
I was informed was the royal carriage, and in which was
seated Her Majesty, also, if I remember rightly, the Prin-
cess Beatrice.
As they were going on past, for some reason or other
there was a slight delay near the entrance ; in that in-
stant I was horrified to i)(;rceive a dirty ragged little urchin,
a girl it seemed, and a mere child, but with its hands full of
flowers, break awav from the crowd on our side and run,
all impulsively, right up to where the Queen was. I say
AMNESTV.
.'U.*,
I was horrifiecl, because I looked upon the matter at first
as a terrible breach of decorum,— involving confiscation
of estates and exile or " The Tower," and it made me nei-^
vous. The little wretch, with a half-frightened, half-
gladsome look of baby pri<le and timidity, put up both its
chubby, brown hands full of violets, and with an appeal
on its rosy, English face that I shall never forget, ofiered
this simple and touching tribute to one whose high sta-
tion naturally conveys the impression of her being the
most austere, if not the proudest dame in England.
My heart stood still, and it seemed to me as if every
breath in that motley group was suspended. The "Empress
of India," who took in the situation at a glance, lowered her
stately head just the slightest ; but the smile that lighted
up her benign features was not the Queen's — it was the
regal urbanity of a great-hearted English matron, and in
a low voice which I thought touchingly soft and sweet,
and which I may only have imagined was just a little
sad, she said, " Thank you, my child ! " i felt a choking
sensation in my throat — my eyes grew moist and dim — I
could have blubbered like a school-boy. Those were
flowei's from the little garden-spot of the poor, the des-
pised, the outcast; — and this was the child of democracy,
unlocking with those tiny hands the rusty portals that
lead to the most invulnerable, if not the most formidable,
stronghold of' monarchy in Christendom.
--f T -
XXIX.
Those whose misfortunes we take as an evidence of
moral perversity and deservelessness, those we give over
M(j
UKVKRIES OF AN OhTt SMOKER.
Mi ,-, '(
h
I " ' * ita ^ l" I I
■ f 1
and feel are lont, must their lives have Ix^eii all a blank
desert? Take the worst of them, those whom Society
ignores and all soher folk repudiate, and everybody feels
a distant dread about — liouseless wanderers whose home-
less abodes fringe the outskirts of civilization — all sand
and sky, — may there be no hope for them sometime '.
Shall it always be burning dust, in this world and the
next? No tree, no shrub, no leaf? Our "creeds'
say they are irredeemaljly lost ; or at best the con-
ditions on which they would take them in, are such
that it is simply impossible for these pooi- wretches
either to understand or conform; besides they have no
sufficient inducements by way of appearances, even it*
they had the dissimulation necessary, to make tluni
take up with a hollow pietence. But if they do not con-
form, must they be lost for ever ? The brutality of Bar-
tholomew says YES ! But the heart of Gethsemane sa} s
NO ! ! Then leaving out the harsher interpretation of a
monkish creed, let us ask, in the name of the only good
Samaritan through whom we claim exem[)tion, is it possi-
ble tiiese people may not be endowed with some great
redeeming virtue. I claim they arc — disguised, perverted
as it may seem.
• It is said that one of Murillo's finest paintings lay vir-
tually unknown and abandoned for years, and, changinu
hands many times, was bartered and sold for paltry sums :
when one day, the effort of some kindly hand, or it may
have been a sorry purchaser, to restore a battered old
bacchanalian scene, led to the discovery of the concealed
AMN1..STV.
ni?
trea-surc ; and innlnncath tlic n\itvr <*<»atiiiL' wliiclj was
then caivfully n'lnovcd, tl»er(; stood rovoaltMl to wonder-
ing generations the priceless chef d'o-uvre of one of the
greatest masters the World of Art has ever known.
We cannot all expect tolind gi^nis like this, hidden away
in every old picture ; hut I claim each one of all of us has
stowed away in the hnnher-rooni of his heart, a treasure
in some good (puility even more precious, whieii, as the
heir-loom of the poorest and meanest, only setaus worth-
less hecausc it is not exhibited, and cannot be exchange(l,
nor pawned, nor negotiated; but while it may leave its pos-
sessor shabby, famishing, and in diibt, nevertheless, \ be
lieve, in hisgreatest need, the shrine shall disgorge, — even
as the earth, which yieMs in its minciral wealth of " tn-a-
sure trove," the most abundant compensation for its
•greatest seeming baj'reiiness.
XXX.
Taking the apparent caprices of natui-e and the altered
conditions of iife into account, [ fail to see and to appre-
ciate the vast difference betwc^en the best and the worst
of us; so far, at least, as txj make it all unction for the
one, and to preclude all hope for the other. And it cer-
tainly does seem very hard to discovei- the a[)proi)riat(!
parallel in the portion alloted to each, of everlasting
felicity and perpetual hell-fire. I w()uld like to think
otherwise ; 1 want the "flaming sword" h(dd aloft over my
head, to appear as appalling as possible, as it might have
a stronger tendency to deter me from evil ; but J am so
m
It^c
\i:m
^
UH
RfcVEftTftR Ofr AN OtP SMotCEh.
bbatinato or opaquo as not to be able to (Hstin^'iitsli any
liit^licr virtiio in " brimstone," tlian what common sense
and lunnanity incline me to feel. Nay, 1 rejmdiate utteily
that theory of Hava^r coercion, which in the form of an
appalling ptiantom, and obtruding itself on the weakest
and most pu.'<illanimons(pialities in man, makes him '^tait
aghast at that typical " boo-man " which our rural talent
sets up in the field to sen o the crows away.
Moreover, it seems to me the question of the duration
of punishment in another world is of such secondary im-
portance, if indeed, of any at all, that it may be regarded
by the humbler classe.", as simply one of the many exanii)lc8
of th<' want of native sense in our learned men; those I
mean who have spent their lives in grafting on their minds
exotic ideas, and in transcribing volumes of speculation,
discussion and dispute on the subject. And, furthermore?
consi<lering all the discrepancies incident to life and under-
standing, with the litth' time allotted us to make our
peace, is it not absurd we should go on arguing over the
length of eternity, — whether it be that of joy or pain, —
and ne\ er cease propounding doctrines, wherein our most
erudite and venerable pupils, in their efforts to ctjmprehend
and eke out comfort, seem but infants " nmling and puk-
ing " in the great Master's arms !
XXXI.
As we have already intimated, the prospective reign
of Amnesty, at h»ast so far as this life is concerned, is
met with such an insuperable obstuck inhuman nature,
AMNESTY.
;ui)
m to make tho very hazy ((uestion of its cstablishiiiont
on earUi, a iiiaUt>r of hiimo attainment— Iwisod mion
that slo Y theory of progression vvhicli, regards man as
in a state of gradual improvement. — Nor does the pros-
pect seem to brighten with tho assumption that, com-
mencing Avith the jegenoration of the monkey, tlio liuman
animal had attained, nearly two thousaml years ago, the
sublime eminence of that perfect specimen, whose precocity
won him the imperishable honor of crucitixion.
But, leaving out the ultimate destiny of the race in its
temporal pihjjrimage to the goal, I deny the right of any
man or creed to say, that in the great or(h;al of death
and dissolution the most dilat' >ry may not overleap, in
the untrammelled spirit, the most formidalde barriers
of either theology or the tlesh, — and, catching up with
the most forward, take his place hereafter in th>; front
rank of unctuous progress. Here w<^' might refer t)
advantage to what we have already said about the sub-
tle affinity of opposites, and, pointing to the tableau of
the "crown of th')rns," institute a comparison with less
exalted suffering, showing d closer connection b«'tween
the best and the worst than is exliibited socially. But
suffice it in this instance to call attention to the fact of
three crosses, and not simply one ; and, twining the ever-
living vine about them, let it indicate not a mere acci-
dental associiition, but a kindred tie, uniting in nmtual
hope the thief and the Christ- the most corrupt and the
most perfect of men.
The broad ground which 1 have taken herein of uni-
versal merit and forgiveness is difficult to xnaintain, com-
I
:?r'
3.')()
UKVKUIKS OK AN OLD S.MOKHIl.
r i!ijif,i . . .
»
pit
if»|-fSf I "■*'"•
•lb., i .J
in^ up as it dooH oii the trial of very lianl aiul kii(»tty
cnsos, wherein sympathy, wo are a(hnonisliecl, ho far from
l•^l^m^^must not even influence the verdict; und t]i*)iJi;h the
vievv.s which favor the boon of a^eneral amnesty, coiueiu di-
rect conHiitt witli those ;,^n*at foiinularies known as Creeds,
yet it dot s not so nuich oppose them, after all, as that
they sim])ly ditfer with the prevailing hallucination which
holds them divinely indispensable.
We mayol)serve that while Creeds, as formulated systems,
are the work of heads, they had their (>ri;[;iii in the* com-
uiiseration of hearts — conceive<l in pity, they are all tcjo
often nmintained in cruelty, an<l just inasmuch as they
favor strife, they oppose amnesty, and defeat the object of
their institution. 1 would not, however, wantonly dis-
parage these great succoring agencies ; considering, too,
they may be available and even satisfying to those minds
wherein understanding is not a prerecjuisite to faith.
Moreover, there are many peophi who have been nur-
tured in creed ; they have grown u[) in it, and may
not Ije unsuccessful in the extraordinary mental feat of
re^ardincT the Church as a second mother — its wond> as
their tond), and the second ])irth as the devoutly prayed
for resurrection. It may be a beautiful illusion, which I
have no wish in their case to dispel ; but, aside from the
question of fact or fancy as concerns them, I am now
seeking what remedy there may be for a class who, for
whatever cause, creeds abandon ; and in these cases where
the .systems of Heads may not avail, I vvT)uId appeal to the
primitive and innate religion of Hearts.
AMNKSTY.
:{.') 1
XXXIT
T iimko no vain 1»oast of lihenility, l»ocau.so T tl
rem
I
L^ion
DISC
>en»j^
l)Ut
my
•t of
'ive
^ of
()
f
any
I
fanaticisni ; ind»MMl, lilMMality is very apt to 1m' to relij,'
what license is to law; the one not unfrctnu'ntly «lr^rt
ratin*; into contenipt, the other into wluit is even w<
iiuliHerence. I have always frit <liil»ious about h
liberal, and trieil hard to he as hi«,'oted as possible
there is nothing I have failed so completely in as in
ertbrts to believe that Paradise is a little space — a sor
cosmopolitan reli([uary, where it is intended to pres«
a few, only, of the finest specimens of the extinct rac»;
man. Then the substance of all these ramblinir ideas
mine as bearing on this point is, tliat if'(.'hristdied for
individual or chiss it was for that one in whose nature
have ])een searchini' and probinu: for redeemin<r, healtl
ful, life-saving veins.
There is no (hjubt in my mitid, too, that tlie utility
the crucifixion is too exclusive and " liigh-toned,"
altogether erroneously appropriated. I don't know wl
the sensation would be like, but it must be very pecu-
liar to feel, as some devotees do, that there is but one
narrow path to Heaven — that they are on that i)ath. — Am
not quite sure, it would seem especially objectionable, to
feel there was but one system that could save, and that was
mine ; and while I understood and could comply with all
its re<juirements, if it would make my faith any stronger
to })elieve all the others would perish, I could even boar
that, and feel my own triumph the more njarvellous and
gratifying.
of
md
lat
■■ iHititfcJM**' I
352
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
There are a great many who soeru to feel this way, and
yet a larger portion profess one thing and believe the very
opposite. It is not always dissimulation, however; society
and custom regulate these matters as they do the hiw of
weights and measures, or the taking of a wife or an oath.
Indeed, conformity is not simply optional, but in most
cases necessary ; and, generally s})eaking, people are just in-
different or thoughtless enough to comply without object-
ing. Some other worthy minds there are, who, dazed and
confounded in the ap|)nrent need of believeing something,
are sore beset by a puzzling diversity of opinions ; indeed,
in their honest perplexity, they may bring upon them the
opprobrious epithets of "atheist" and "unbeliever;" and
yet, are these same people scandalized by that uncon-
scionable set, who, donning the habiliments of pious as-
surance, invade the sanctuary with a nonchalance that
would shame as sceptical the harassed mind of the meek-
est of the apostles.
It is not quite a paradox to affirm that, with peo-
ple who do not, or are not able to, think for themselves,
the strongest argument in favor of holding a cei'-
tain conclusion is the great diversity of opinion con-
cerning its correctness ; and, as in the case of the trial
of a criminal, they give the thing impeached the bene-
fit of the doubt. Again, giving faith a property quali-
cation, it is made hereditary ; and, as in the case of the
the Chinese women, who are said to stint the growth of
their feet by keeping them in the wooden shoes of chil-
dren, so is the bumptious fledgling our Christian school
AMNESTY.
35S
nurtured in the evangelical groove of the parent ; and he
follows it with about as much thought and consideration
as is given to a road that offers a convenient turnpike in
the general direction one desires to travel. While this is
a natural tendency, it is suggestive of a query: — Did
anybody, liow^ever severe regarding other people's " p«;r-
suasion," ever conscientiously feel that his own dear
friends and relatives who differed with him in faith
or even without profession, would not be saved ? Our
very instincts revolt against the idea of kindred ex-
clusion. Show me the son who, though a Protestant, feels
his own kind mother, because she is a Catholic, will be
damned ; and though I should wonder prodigiously at the
inhuman monster, yet would he be only the very com-
monest type of the class of people who stand up and
solemnly affirm to believe what they profess. But you
tell me no such a man could be found, or excuse the case
on the groui I of partiality; then, I have only to say
that the exception and not the rule is the ground of my
hope herein ; for filial reverence is a chief ingredient to
faith in God, and the simple reciprocation of natural love
is one of the special attributes of an all-wise benevolence
looking towards universal Anmesty.
XXXIII.
We heap opprobrium, not upon our fathers, but our
forefathers, for their bigotry; but, in a mild, pusillani-
ous sort of way, we are more bigotted, in many respects,
than they were. In this age of enterprise and reform, for
$54
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
i
H
1 .1
f »
A I
\1
■<
1
i
instance, it is taken for gi'anted that everything opposed
to Indolence is Industry, and what can there be more
praiseworthy than industry ? So, too, everything opposed
to " Popery " is counted " Protestantism," and what a
glorious triunij)h is Protestantism ! Well, both these as-
sumptions may be, and are to a great extent, fallacious.
I do not appi'ove of Popery altogether, but then I must
demur to Protestantism beiui; reijarded as Relijiion. — I do
not ap})rove of indolence altogether, but then I beg to
say, I think it a stiong argument in its favor, when we
look about us and see the great number there are indus-
triousl^'^ serving the devil !
Our forefathers revolted ajjainst the ministers of Rome
and, afterwards, against the Church itself. Without
(juestioiiing here the righteousness of their conduct, it is a
pertinent query, do we inherit their pious zeal, and are
we right in ap|)ropriating, as we do, indiscriminately the
virtues of their martyrdom ? It is true we do inherit
their prejudices — ah, yes, we have Celtic blood enough for
that — and these are fostered and applied as leeches by the
moral physician of our spiritual health, whose hobby it is
to feel that eveiybody's blood is poisoned ; so now we
swarm with leeches as Egypt once swarmed with locusts.
Why may not our leaders in the good work of moral
reform do more in the privacy of individual intercourse,
and not wait for the accumulation of huge congregations.
Now we hear their voices only in the solemn isolation of
sacred places, — in a dismal drone which, although it is
wanting in the healthful vim of a more spontaneous
eloquence, does, it is true, warn us like the fog-horn or
r
. « ■
t
T
AMNESTY.
355
ontaneous
the bell that moans and ding-dongs over the sunken
ledge. That is all well enough in its way, but the voice
that would oppose evil must enter the ai'ena where evil is
advocated, and tlien, not unfre{pient]y would it find itself
opposed to itself
Give us the dash, the energy, the courage, that led the
invincible squadrons of French Cuirassiers at Aboukir,
or the English Guards at Waterloo — not to connuand
battalions, not to war against each other, but to go
into the midst of the carnajxe and succor the wounded,
and that irrespectiv^e of the side they are found fight-
ing on. — All have received a mortal hurt and are bleed-
mcr to death — that is enoumi. I do not mean mere
stretcher carriers and funeral officials, we have too many
of them now ; but the Napoleons and Wellingtons of
Amnesty — vancjuishing Enmity and pacifying Strife !
Above all, when time and nature have closed a wound,
don't let them tear it open afresh; don't, because broken
limbs may not be healing (juite according to rule, go
about breaking and setting them over again ! The sublime
project of universal anmesty (if it must march as an army),
should move on, in all the potent dignity of men who
have won peace and are going home,- -and not as a panic-
stricken herd, whose cry of Vive VEmpereuv has dwin-
dled to the contemptible wail of sauve qui pent.
XXXIV.
If w^e see a man drowning, what is the first impulse, — ■
to go and inquire how he came there ? Yes ; our church*
I
¥■
•I ' I s
I3, ._^*''
iM i i
t >
.■ii 7
»
85C
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
men, in effect, tell us that is the proper thing to do; and
would leave him till he passed the ordeal of a searching,'
catechism, before reaching down and pulling him out.
They don't favor sudden "conversions," — not they. We
must needs be " born " and suckled over again, and be
technically washed of sin, — aye, asin the " Peerage " they
are put through the " Bath," to be cleansed of the taint
of ignoble birth. And then they haggle over the quantity
of water needful to perform the unctuous ablution ; all
this, too, when we see people not only " sprinkled," but
" immersed," in right good earnest, and treading w^ater in
an agon}'- of suspense and drowning, and the emergency is
treated with all the ecclesiastical dignity and supine de-
liberation of a hackneyed routine.
In one sense we enjoy all the luxury of perfect security,
■with the ineffable boon of a green old age, growling and
expanding its fostering wealth of branch and leaf and
blossom all over and about us, — and it makes our declin-
ing years seem a delightful shade, a grateful respite from
the blazing rays of youthful passion, and from the bustK'
and turmoil of the world. — But then, this is an allusion
which may be dispelled at any moment, and is seldom real-
ized; nevertheless, so is "conversion," (whatever that may
actually mean), held up before us as a convenient mirage,
and our authorities say, in condemning sudden changes,
it must come, to be lasting, :n the gradual progress of
events, and be, as it were, the slow growth of that fostei-
ing tree.
The mistake lies in regarding death, as the law of Eng-
land does an interregnum,— that is, the King never
AMNESTY.
r.7
dies; so also a congregation never dies, but lives always
like a corporation, and is y)reaclied to. So, too, tlio gicat
world of fashion we see promenading down Broadway
or Kegent street, never dies; and 'conversion;' pni-
posterous as it may seem, viewed in that light, may go
on through an endless scries of progressive stages forever
and ever. How different is the exhortation to the ])oor
condemned.— And viewed rationally and individuallv
as we may all feel, who shall guarantee any one; the mor-
row ? Let it be assumed we are to lead the forlorn hope
at two o'clock to-day, and march over a mile of o'lacis.
covered with abatis and pitfall, and swept by twenty
batteries : — Ah, indeed, says the advocate of gradual
emancipation, that alters the case mateiially. Yes, the
case appears altered very materially, but, mind you, it is
only in his view, and not in fact.
XXXV.
The truth is, we are all shipwrecked mariners. — -To say
we have our compass and chart, is but a mild illustra-
tion of the means of navii;ating; presupposing, of course,
we are in a good ship that is comfortably divided uj) into
sections to suit our convenience. This is the disposi-
tion our creeds generally make of us, providing we pro-
fess to " believe." Well, then we have adverse winds and
storms to contend against, and have not unfre([uently, in
our greatest emergencies, to fall back on " dead reckon-
ing." — we could manage, nevertheless, to get tdong, but
the fact is. this favorable aspect of the situation is fal^Q
358
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
!.!';.
[iiL
If
:!! i
t I
'I
t
and deceptive ; the impression being conveyed more in the
zealous com endation of rival systems than in any actual
test of their icspective merits; and, according to modern
survey, it is not all certain the ship we are in is seaworthy,
with, as we are given to understand, a sure piospect of a
pleasant voyage and a safe port. Indeed, the impression
when this questionable assurance does not obtain, is that
we are all really adrift on a wide ocean — buoyed up in tlie
frailest of cockle-shells; and liable as we are to be swamped
at any moment, the (juestion of our safety is not one that
need alarm a few of the worst of us only, but rather
excite the more genuine concern of all for all.
The strong men among us, we have no difficulty in per-
ceiving, are pulling against each other; and the helpless
ones, the. women and children, are, — well, I was about to
say, huddled together in fear and trembling ; but that
would be carrying the simile too far, as they are simply
unconscious and basking in the sunshine of their own
adorable loveliness. And yet to get nearer the truth still,
v/e are floundering in the water and drowning ; there is
but one hand can save — He hears our sii]>i'1ication, it
it matters not what way, or where, or when it is uttered,
it is sufficient if it be only a cry of jmin. — Ah, but if a
heathen, or a pagan, or an infidel, be rescued by mistake,
who then shall be the champion to stand forth and say,
throw him back again !
Take any one of our fellow creatures, whose end was
most miserable — does henotstand in fraternal contrast with
Him whose death was most sublime ? and this notwith-
standing the repudiation of all our moral orthodoxy to the
AMNESTY.
3.39
contrary. Both equally serve the good puipose of example,
and yet one gets all the praise, and the other all the oppro-
brium. Yes, the repulsiveness of the one, it is true, may
seem to preclude penitence as the absence of all graccfid
virtues repels approbation ; he may claim no title in the
Autocracy of creed, and stands in gloomy, cheerless continst
with its serene and pampered nobility ; and yet, who shall
say all may not share alike in that other great Democracy
of pain and of pleasure ? Aye, and despite that orthodoxy,
which arrogates to itself the authority to say, thou art
" polluted," thou art " sanctitied," may we not hope and
believe, all are sovereign by the grace of Ood, in their
eligibility to mercy !
It may be objected that reasoning like this brings us
into too close fellowship with these who are de[)raved, and
a doubt may be entertained that the pity and countenance
of better natures would have a tendency to lend encour-
agement ; but the terrors engendered in the minds of some,
on that score, are mitigated in reflecting, that the highest
standard he or she can conceive, much less embody, is
comparative degradation ; and if they judge and condemn
by that, how shall they in their turn a[)pear under that
scathing criticism whose criterion is the Inunaculate.
xxxvr.
In our casual glances into the seemingly opi>osite, but
really commingled spheres of success and failure, we have
had regard for two grea.t corresponding divisions of society ;
but while the socially successful, and those deemed especi-
i i
300
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
ally fortunate, have been left to take care of theinst'lves.
our object has been more especially, to see if tlic^re could
be thrown, even the smallest rays of hope towards those
unfortunate ones, whose mnnner of livin^f and whose death
place them, according to our Creeds and their expositors,
outside the pale — and whom the glad, thoughtless, frolic-
some world indifferently abandon, — doulitless feeling
toward them as tliey do about disease, that is, the further
they remove from it the nearer they approximate to
health.
Had my purj^ose in this essay been simply to dignify
the world of failure, I need not have been told how much
easier my task had been, to have carefully avoided those
who would cast disrepute on the cause ; and leaving them
underneath their veil of obloquy, have unearthed, in their
stead, the memories of that undocorated phalanx, who.
falling in an inglorious stage of the conflict, were buried
l)y stealth in the smoke and debris of defeat. I say unearth
their memories, because in our hasty glance over the past,
and into the careers of men, it is a natural impulse to
conniience and leave off with success ; and thus, in the
history of projects, those who are so fortunate as to cap
the sheaf get, it may have been only in the routine order
of secjuence, the crown of glory.
The fact is, Civilization only marks the consunmiation
of great achievements, and the progress from inception to
completion is not all through a vista of triumphal arches ;
but rather through a crucible of fiery ordeals and blighting
disappointments ; and the sandy, burning desert, in the
rare intervals of oases, are strewn with the bones of un-
AMNESTY.
im
wept, iiiilionoied nifiityrH. Thus it is no i«ile envy to
presuino that oftentimes the truest merit jnrets th»^ least
applause, an<l to find it w«' need to abandon the grand
hi<rhways paved with the memorial slahs of hidjL^naphieal
lore, and «'ropr in the slums and dank and f(etid irloamiui:'
of penury, starvation and failure.
As it is, I have not attempteil argunu'nt ; tlu; subject,
indeed, doesn't admit of that sort f^T measurement and
demonstration which learned men, who discuss peo])le's
chances, here and hereafter, affect to apply ; an<l who,
unravelling fate with the same logical precision they
would solve an equation, nudtiply and subtract the lost
and saved with the same e<|uanimity that they for^fe
syllogisms to annihilate adverse opinion. And here let
me add, that it seems to me in our pulpit arbitrament
of right and wrong, and of all things ])ertaiiung to
our evangelism, they indulge too much in the fuclid of
religion. I don't object to clicmi-'^tri/, but T do think that
conversion to spiritual belief is not a simple matter of
logical serpience ; and I, for one, object to being ])lumbed
by them, and squared and angled off, — geometrized, in
fact, and ignoring the little story of our lives, we are
told to accept certain conclusions, in which there is about
as nmch heart and sympathy as ina clalk mark on a black
board.
XXXVli .
There are two cardinal points in our mental compass
corresponding with the north and south of the physical, — I
mean the past and the future : the former is replete with
, i
i
302
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
I'll"
" .1
. -1
•■i
I'
disaster, and inspires us with such a wholesome dread that
on the least inkling of (hmger we take to scannirifj tin-
latter to see what it has in store ; an<l, like the mariner at
sea, note with more or less anxiety the indication^ of sky
and barometer.
I don't propose to dwell so much on the subject of the
future, here, as it comes in better under the b a<l of im-
af,dnation ; besides, there is not very much to be gained
there, anyway, save pleasant pictures. ¥oy the matter of
that, it might be calltMl the picture galler}^ of life, so mucli
are we disposed to turn to the future oidy with thoughts
of en joym«'nt ; and it being the place where we may fashion
things to suit ourselves, it is there we feast our fancies tu
the full
While the past may condemn, the future only rarely ad-
monishes, and that so lovingly that it smiles in the very look
in which it chides ; but as it has its sunshine, it jilso has its
shadow, and the very element of uncertainty in which we
rejoice,is tinctured with phantom shades which it is wonder-
ful finly perpl< A, and do not, as might be expected, dispirit
and appal. All our enterprise takes its vim and charm
from the future, — and like the vouth, sroincj forth into the
world, we are looking smilingly forward and tearfully back-
ward. Tn one sense it is disheartening, in another en-
couraging that that lia])[)iness which is supposed to come
in the performance of good deeds, is not adequate to our
wants ; and that it is not, is shown in the fact that even
our best and greatest men, seem to labor under a consti-
tutional disability to rejoice over past life ; and they,
equally disconsolate with tlie meanest and poorest (I was
i li
J
AMNEHTy.
8ti3
siboiit to .say, th»' most ^'tillty and remorseful), lauu'nt it
mi«;ht not Iiave been beHcr ami mure fruitful. Thu.s,
tot^ethor with thi ragged ami needy rabble, we Hud them,
in obedience to the ecjuable influent;e of som*' ^reat law of
nature, tumin<'th»Mr bnckHon what Hoem to {Win tlie insi*'-
nificant tiiumphs of the past, and with iheir faces to the
fut .ire,wi.shing, ho[>in;,^ HtruLCnlin«i on ! No nxntal power
can diminish the speed, much less sto[) this gieat title of
human energy; in fact no • ffort is made with that inten-
tion, althou;jfh we know when wo ratch the back-wash it
will bring w ith it a mighty wave under which we shall
be overwdi(dmed a- etf«*ctually as was the little village of
Pompeii, bul)ni"',ged by fifteen I'eet of burning cinder and
molten lava.
Alluring as the future may s*Hnn in some respects, any
attempt, out of the usual course of nature, to realize
or to pry into its mysttnits, is promptly met with a most
em[)hatic and discouraging rebutf; we may enjoy the
flow( , but we must not pick it to pieces, else the charm
is lost and we see onlv the seed whence we cami and
whither wo go. At times, startled as is the hi nt^<l stag
at the certain doom coming toward him, we, too, turn
to the future and scan its veiled aspect closely to see if
we may divine the nature of the n fuge there; but the
knowledge vouchsafed tons is encumU^red with still greater
perplexities; and, lik-' the hai-assed Indian who tiruls civil-
ization a plague, we turn from the frettrd, puny lealms of
fact to that trackless region which imagination pictures, —
hid<len away in a wilderness of bright colore<l, sweet
smelling foliage, and seek to plunge yet more deeply into
its grateful shades and perfumed grottos.
ii!
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1
364
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
It is consolino- no doiiht; but, beyond tlic gvatificatiou
of our fancy, what do we find ? — That m reality tlie great
blank wall of etei'nity shuts right down before us, or opens
out into an illimitable sea of surmise. — What we thought
we knew, later we find furthest from the truth, and the
great ])roblem of the day takes us into night ; the puzzle is
tiresome, and twilight and reflection brinor no rest — no
peace. We really only find the question the more ob-
scure and the ways of providence the more inscrutable ;
vexed and fevered we know not what to think, and then
all fagged we doze away ! Ah, it i^: the tired spirit resting
and recuperating in the great maze of mystery that clogs
thought and dazes intellect ; then, in the magic of a grate-
ful trance, we dream we are awake, — and wake, — to find
it all a dream.
XXXVIIT.
Turning to the past, the spectacle presented to tlie
mind's eye is that of a more fruitful field, and there are
evidences of a more substantial growth ; but then again,
the fields have a harvested look, and while the signs of
fruition may be greater, there is withal the musty smell
of dissolution. — The sickle has been there, autunni and
winter have intervened, and we detect very little of the
lingering perfumes, and none of the fresh, budding look
that distinguishes the later months and makes the future
seem a perpetual spring. Although, generally speaking,
we do not like the past, it often intrudes itself on our
notice ; turn which way we may events throw us back,
however unwillingly upon our past. As I intimated in
AMNESTY.
365
another place that the world with all its seeming progress
was retracing its steps, so with individuals, they must go
back and, though it may not all be an ovation to some,
recontemplate the marks they have planted.
Regarding the past g(inerally and refleetively, wliat, let
us ask, has become of all the people and fruits grown there.
Whereare the nations and thegranaries and theaccumulated
wealth of man and of nature for the seven thousand three
hundred and eighty-eight years jotted down in our mem-
orandum, and for the indefinite margin of time twixt our
earliest dates and the time God said, "Let there be light "?
It is impossible to realize the awful devastation compre-
hended in the reply, — they have vanished ! What have
New York, London, Paris and all the other capitals of
the globe, together with their mighty tributaries and
accessories, animate and inanimate, to show for the pro-
ductions of a hard worked, ingenious, prolific world since
the occupation of space and the creation of Adam ? We
answer, comparatively so many tiny grains of mustard
seed ! -:•• , '>^:-^' .
Of all the countless millions that have passed away,
what are the evidences left of our great enterprising
humanity ? Bring forward all your arguments of chemistry
respecting the economy of Nature and the indestructibility
of matter, to convince me the leaves that deck the benign
brow of our own peerless goddess of plenty, are the same
that veiled the nakedness of Eve. Or, to moderate our tone
a little and to make our demands more in accordance
with the limited ability to answer, let us enquire how
much do we know of the great world of extinct life ?
I
S66
REVERIES OB* A^ OLD SMOKEtt.
Briefly and in round figures, nothing ! At most how few
are the traces lemaining; — a shred, a particle, an atom here
and there, but comparatively no more than what is left
of Solomon's Temple, or of the tail of Ben. Franklin's
kite.
It is appalling to reflect how complete has been the
destruction ; and making the most of what we have read
and think we know, we must confess of times past, our
records are most fragmentary, imperfect and unsatisfac-
tory. It may not have been the intention of our scribes
to disfigure or to mutilate, but they embellish till they
obliterate, and in the eflbrt to preserve, annihilate. We
may illustrate this by glancing at that capricious lumi-
nary of the past, yclept tradition whose dazzling corrus-
cation, eradiating the murky atmosphere of history, en-
lightens the modei-n world.
XXXIX.
It is an old saying that " language is given us to hide
our thoughts." I would go further and say that writing
is bestowed on a people to enable them to pervert the
truth, and to deceive posterity. The written form of tra-
dition, is legend; and whatever may be said of the former
applies in substance to the latter. What was not written
w^e would not naturally expect had been preserved, hence
our contempt for tradition ; but this, since the era of writ-
ing, we find taking the later guise of legend, which like
its counterpart and older kin is only a moral and instruc-
tive metamorphosis of truth. Here we may note, too.
AMNESTY.
S()7
that many cliarining narrations found fathered on both
legend and tradition, owe their being to an ingenuity and
invention ahnost exchisively modern ; being, for the most
part, the offspring of tliose splendid and prolific imagina-
tions by which they were conceived and adorned.
We do not complain of these fancies, on the contrary we
are more than reconciled, we are happy to be humbugged by
them. They are to nations wliat ilhisions are to individu-
als, — a precious birthright,— and we dread that scourge of
idoldom, — the Iconoclast, — as well we may ; for once let
that kingof midgesinvadethosefloral exotics thatembellish
not only genuine tradition, but that more recent eti'uhion
of newfangled coloring falselv ascribed to legend, and
soon what will be left ? Nothing, — but the waxen outline
of dried up honey-comb from which has been sucked the
luscious sweets of fable. Fdchin(j nearer the point
still, strip Roman or Grecian history, or English or Scotch,
of its legendary lore what would be the effect ? We can-
not realize the prodigious havoc tljat would be made, but
it is no idle speculation to surmise, the splendid fabric .
would topple in the first breath of wholesome air; and a
structure that seems to gain with age an even greater
fund of youth and beauty, would crumble into ruins and,
dissolving, like the florid outlines of an exhumed corpse,
leave the appalled and contemjilative student only such a
sparse accumulation of pulverized relics, as might consti-
tute a respectable collection of fossil remains.
If there be any truth in these observations, it goes to
sustain the exception I have taken to the infallibility of
records ; and the position is still further exemplified in
i:;
\,
368
IIEVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
the more trivial affairs of our daily intercourse. Thero,
it is a hackneyed fact that " stories" so short lived as not
to attain beyond the longevity of mere gossip, bandied
from mouth to mouth and from pen to pen, even in the
same language, become discolored and distorted. It
would seem, with each, as in the case of an organic sub-
stance, decomposition had set in from its very inception ;
but denied quiet extinction, under the recuperative im-
petus of morbid curiosity, the putrid mass becomes
animated ; then, giving forth, as in insect life, myriad
specimens of which there is not a trace of the original,
these, assuming to be true versions, wriggle and crawl till,
at last, they flit away into the elysium known as "small
talk."
It may be seen, then, in our efforts to preserve the nar-
rative of past events, truth must have gone through a
somewhat complicated process, each stage of which is
assun\ed to be historical, and of course perfect ; and this,
according to the period in which we live, constitutes tlie
commonly accepted standard of our belief and judgment.
But would it not be marvellous if, in the multiplicity of
representations commended to our credulity as true like-
nesses, the majority were not absurd caricatures ; and in
this connection I will venture on a suggestion which occurs
to me at the moment as illustrative of my meaning.
Suppose a few of the more noted worthies of antiquity,
with whom we profess intimate acquaintance, were brought
to life— I trust it may not be irreverent to call them up —
then, allowing they could be made sufficiently reconciled
with the drama of to-day to be induced to witness a per-
AMNESTY.
300
. Thero,
ed as not
, bandied
en in the
rted. It
ranic sul)-
nception ;
•ative ini-
i becomes
e, myriad
e original,
crawl till,
I as "small
^e the nar-
through a
• which is
and this,
titntes the
judgment,
iplicity of
true like-
s ; and in
ich occurs
ling- .
antiquity,
Ire brought
|them up-
reconciled
less a per-
formance— let the play be " histori(!al," and founded on
a fair specimen of the so called " facts " recorded of their
period and lives. What a prodigious burlesciue it would
all seem to those old patriarchs, and how they would roar
and laugh to split tlu^ir sides! — never once imi)iltiMg even a
hint whom the ch :.u,oters and events thus re-enactod were
intended for. I may be doing our noble scribes injustice,
but the fact is, in my efforts to commit their voluminous
productions to memory, I have become meditative and
sceptical ; till now, I am very much at a loss to know what
part or how nmch of modern history to believe ; and only
read ancient, as I would ''Tales of a Grandfather," — that is,
for amusement and as standard specimens of ingenuity
and wit.
As we sit contemplating the past, these are the thoughts
that brood, phantom-like, over the scene; and out from
the darkened vale there comes cra-iking on the night-air
the reiterated query, what about the millions upon mil-
lions that are gone, and where is the lost Diary of the
dead World ! History, as we have intimated, records and
contradicts some of the triumphs and reverses of nations ;
and biography has made us, as we think, familiar with
the success and failure of comparatively a few of the
most noted men, and still fewer women ; but what a puny
epitome is this of the world's boundless volume of good
and ill since creation — wherein, each letter, were a long
life's troubled career — each worcZ, the vicissitudes of a whole
generation — and each sentence, the story of a nation's rise
and growth, its decline and ultimate extinction !
370
REVLHIES OF AN OLD SM(JKER.
Biograpliy is replete with the renown of emperors an<l
prolific in the exploits of chieftains in war and state ; but
where is the chronicle of the lives and doings of all the
rest of mankind ? Those, I mean, who failed to make for
themselves a name conspicuous enough in deeds, good or
bad, to resound over the earth and to echo through all
succeeding generations. Passing by cases in a remoter
period which, like that of Hannibal, stand alone in the
grandeur of utter isolation, and coming down to times
comparatively recent, — it must be admitted we know, or
think we know, a li4itle about Napoleon ; but what about
the heroes that composed the ^rrand army of Napoleon ?
Here and there, it it true, a beam of reflected light is cast
on a few such characters as Ney, and Murat, and re-
deem from perpetual shade two or three or may be five or
ten of the million human physiognomies that frame the
portrait of one man. But in this case, we find the glory
of one great name <^xha\|^ting the research and satisfying
the ambition of biographers; — the world has no market
for any more dead greatness and supply the demand for
the living ; so what becomes of all the '"est, — what be-
comes of the fathers, brothers, and sons whose devotion
and heroism made Napoleon emperor, and France the most
renowned in modern chivalry ? One word suffices — ob-
livion!
^.V ■■;'-.::■::-:'' ■:^^ xli. -;*'^^:;-:':,^; ■'
Where, then, is the true diary of the world that is
dead ? There is none ; never was and never will be. The
nearest thing we have to it, barring an immense mass of
AMNHSTV.
871
irrelevant garbage is found in the Bibles of nations ; and
that, not as narmfive but as j^rrcepf — not simply in tlio
chronicle of events, hut in the lessons which they incul-
cate. All parts of these good hooks may not be, and
certainly are not, inspired— none of them, in fact, in the
crude notion of n-hat the word inspiration means; and to
maintain that such works, however highly they may be
reverenced, should have no particle of alloy, is simply
claiming for them an impossibility ; indeed, the very
effort shows a lamentable want of esteem for those other
parts which are evidently sound and incomparably }>er-
fect.
Who knows anythiug that is not made up of a certain
amount of " dross ;" nay, one of the greatest difficulties
in life is the stint of separating the intrinsic from the
extrinsic so as to make the [)roper distinction between
good and bad, and to divine what to cherish and what to
repudiate. This, however patiexitly or zealously or de-
voutly it may have been essayed, has never been accom-
plished to the complete satisfaction of either individuals
nations or posterity ; and that, whether as regards private
affairs or public works.
While that estimable volume, compiled fVom the theo-
logies of consecutive civilizations and races of people, —
our Bible, — forms no exception in the application of the
above, it must be confessed in that great granary, the
harvest of fruitful ages, the separating of the grain from
the chaff, may seem a stu])endous undertaking, and in one
sense it is ; Nevertheless, while it is a job that may not
be let out to be done by others to suit our convenience,
372
UEVEUIES OF AN OLD SMOKEU.
yet, to <L,Maj)plo with tliose facts, tlio only rational ones,
that appeal to our inoial nature, nee<l not clismay even
the humblest intellect amongst us.
Nay, even in those subtler distinctions to which we have
referred, it is encoura<j^ing to the less pretentious classes, to
bear in mind that the "race" is not always " to the stiong,"
nor victory on the side of " the biggest guns." — The fact
may be stale, but it is none the less a fact, that the
major paH of our grandest discoveries are not, as many
think, the result of profound mental penetration, — of pro-
digious wisdom and indefatigable research, — but, on the
contrary, are mainly attributable to mere accident ; and,
as in the case of the marvellous revelation that gave us the
telescope, — to the sportive observation of merry-making
children. Aye, and passing by the trophies of occult science,
— glancing into tho bewildering labyrinths of philoso-
phy and metaphysics, — the novice is astonished that men
of greatest learning and astutest minds, dazzled with too
much light, grope blindly at noonday and are lost in a
maze, wherein the veriest dolt has pickde his way in tri-
umph at midnight. '
XLII. ■:.-: -;.;^^-,.^':. ■: -
I would like to say here, it seems strange to me that that
grand monument of evangelical faith, the Bible, should be
regarded as a granite shaft, changeless and without the vital
qualities of a living growth. On the contrary, I believe it
were not too refined a conception of its sublime mission,
to regard it in the light of a sentient Being, — with veins
ramifying the hearts of men and surging in the living
AMNESTY.
nrn
throes of evory hroath tliey ))reatho.— OtluTwi.se, its func-
tions in our spiritual orjranisiu, wen* only such as comes
of <;irrnftin«f a dea.l trunk on a live tree. Then, without
lookin*,' with supine iinltecility to tlie pompous bickering
of anti(iuated ecumenical councils, successive generations
would be its revisors ; and, adding the mite which the ex-
perience of each luid adduced, the "Ark " would be kept
moving, — its pedigree in the past would he legitimized,
— and for the future, the Bible of a th(Misand years from
now should not be stinted to the forest of dead leaves
upon which we look, but have leavened with it the vitaliz-
ing properties evolved from twenty generations of precept.
Regarding tlie distinction of what is genuine in the
BiVde and what is not, I believe it may be left to ccmscienc^;,
the interpretation to be bona fide through that medium,
each in a way most applical)le to his need ; and not left,
as the learned professors would have ns, to tliem exclu-
sively. The great force and effect of its teaching (h'pends
on ones own particular (rase, and that no one knows but
himself. He need not hesitate to trust to conscience to
give those good lessons of lifv) their true bearing and sig-
nificance. All the details of individual cases may not be
known, but we have not only our own Bil)le, but that of
others, and also our own observation, to convince us cliat
the precept at least we tind therein contained is infallible.
But, while admitting this, I claim that the world, not-
withstanding its manifold professions to the contrary,
is directly guided and influenced very little by them>
being taken up rather with those parts which pertain to
doctrine and lead to strife. t • .
j^
;;i
n74
ULVKUIKS OF AN ()i,l) SMoKKR.
Reforiitig to tlic sad caso mentioned in a preceding aitl-
cle, we may (juote in this connection one of the many old
sayings, " Jk;\vare of wine and women. " We an; disposed
to interpret this wrongly ; it <loes not mean bad women
any more tlian it (hies had wine ; the warning finger points
to all alik( , a!i<l to every species of intoxication. Hew are
of wine and women ! How stupid and ungratt^fid is the
perversity with which we put aside as old shoes or scorn
as vulgar this time-honored and friendly advice ! — not al-
ways viciously nor yet intentionally — it may be thought-
lessly, and fretpiently with a ceitain amount of what is
called reverence for the sacred source whence it comes ;
but presuming, almost invariably, it means something or
Bomebody worse tlian we meet in our everyday life and
experience ; whereas, it no doubt applies to all mankind
and womonkind without exception.
But arrogating to ourselves virtues we dt) not possess,
wanting in the fundamental principle of righteousness
which is charity, we seek to find in the too aj)[)arent de-
pravity of others immunity for ourselves ; hence it is only
to admonish the vulgar, it is written, " Beware of wine
and women." Alas ! what an unwelcoma heritage of good
counsel ; what pathos in that grim injunction, coming
down to us as it does from generation to generation of
loving hearts and blighted lives ! As we look back over
the blank, silent solitude of the past, we can only imagine
how many have struck on that fatal ledge and gone down
right in the offing of the most serene and pleasant of all
peaceful havens ! Ah, we listen in vain ; not a single cry,
but such precious old warnings as these, comes up from
those placid waters.
AMNKSTV.
;i75
Wt' know of t\w '* prodin^al " tliat ret\ime«l, Imt wliat of
the one of millions that did not return ' Far from friends
and all who IovimI Itini, vvlio smootlu-d down his [>illow and
comforted liiin in his thouLjhts of kindred and of home.
Well, there is a something prevailing, so far as we will
allow it, against all adversity and against all ill — it goes
with ns an<l knows onr thoughts, when none else in the
world would eare or understand ; and though we may never
know whither our brother went or what beeamo of him,
yet one lesson of his harassed life we do know, — it is borne
on the wings of that brooding angel who is ever on the
trail of missing lambs, — and garnered up in the " Good
Book," we read, " Honoi" thy father and thy mother, that
thy days may be long in the land."
Or, take the counter part of the " Prodigal " — the sister
betrayed — the s{)ort of passion, the comi)anion of infamy,
and the most contemptible in the eyes of self and the
world. — What would be her last loving words, it may be,
to that offspring of her shame vouchsafed to her as the
most potent incentive to reform. — In the great agony of
close impending dissolution, she sees the only object left
her to love or to be loved by — what heritage does she seek,
then, to bequeath— what boon more precious than gold
would she, if she could, leave behind ^— She cannot speak
— she is too far gone even to gesture ;— but One who
knows all hearts,— that ubiquitous spirit of infinite com-
miseration, is there, and sees, in what seems a great spasm
of pain, the last best tribute of a breaking heart ;— and,
reading, gives it to the weeping child— what ' only those
37G
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
hackneyed words tliat make us all laugli, — "Be virtuous,
and you will be happy!" Maxims like these are about
the only reliable words that come commended to us through
the dim shadow of that hushed past ; and while sou^e,
though virtually belonging, may not actually be incorpo-
rated, in Holy Writ, nevertheless they are just as strong
and binding, wherever we find them, as Commandments ;
and while all our better nature teaches us to obey, they
may only appeal to our common sense of right and our
instincts of self-preservation.
XLIV.
There is another matter that w^e may take a look at
here — I mean danger. You may say Avhat about danger ?
We all know what that is, surely. Well, there are different
kinds of danger : — there is the hazy sort of general idea of
danger which is preached and croaked about, but which
we think too remote to trouble ourselves with ; then,
there is glaring danger ; and again, a trivial sort where
we feel tolerably certain there is none at all. I believe
we need not trouble ourselves about glaring danger ;
there is generally in this case a look-out somewhere to
give us the signal. — A flag is waved in the glare of the
head-lights, and tells the engineer to put on brakes — a
bridge may be down — a culvert washed away — or a train
rushing down like an avalanche in an opposite direction
— it means stop for your life ! And of course we do stop,
all trembling with apprehension and fear. The shock to
our nervous system is great, and when we have collected
our terrified senses, our gratitude for a brief time knows
AMNESTY.
377
no bounds, and generally takes the form of new and bet-
ter resolves.
Here, then, the danger was terribly apparent, and we
were greatly frightened, but the real danger was propor-
tionably less ; besides, we only stood a chance of getting
bruised or maimed, and the thing that threatened and
the object menaced were material. There is the Ldarin<^
danger, also, betokening hostility and manifest design; but
it need not be dreaded by any one tolerably courageous,
and not utterly defenceless. At the same time, this is the
form we take the greatest pains to guard against, and on
those points most ccmspicuously exposed, we mass all our
forces, and, standing firm on the outer bulwark that shields
the Palladium, defy the enemy openly, boldly.
In our general appreciation of danger, this is the system
of defence most commonly adopted and relied on ; it is
commendable, and virtue, armed to the teeth to repel
boarders, may find it sufiicient in cases of glaring dan-
ger or open hostility. But there is another greater dan-
ger, where this defence utterly fails; indeed, to the wary
invader the very show of so much determination indicates*
if not debility, at least vulnerability; and in all this dis-
play of defensive armament, there is an evidence of consci-
ous weakness. Most evil finds its greatest triumph where
the purest virtue sits enthroned ; but, while the most im-
pregnable strongholds may offer the strongest resistance,
where, in all history, do we find one that has not yielded
to the final assault. We have noticed that because danger
is very glaring, it does not follow the actual peril need be
very great — it is then only comparatively alarming, and
as a rule, proportionately less.
878
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
We may illustrate this by refciring to a battle-field, and
to the only case, perhaps, that nii^Ljdit disprove our propo-
sition. To see, for instance, two lines of hostile cavalry
— with that most formidable weapon, the sabre, dra\\ ii —
advancing against one another in a "charge," is a sight well
calculated to inspire dread, and it does; almost the com-
plete annihilation of all concerned may be apprehended.
But what is the general result ? In nine cases out of ten,
each horseman in expectation of the cut or thrust of his
adversary, remains on the defensive ; and the two lines
pass completely through and do one another comparatively
little or no harm. I don't imagine this, I have seen it, and
know it to be true, and a more glaring and apparent
danger could not be conceived. Again, let us be on the
water when it is rough, — in some tiny craft, floating like
a bubble, and nearly as frail. — There comes a great wave
rolling in on us, — a perpendicular wall of water, — does it
break over and bury us deep down ? — No ; in almost the
same glance of terror the novice casts upon it, he sees
his buoyant bark all gracefully and tranquilly riding on
its crest.
The same, too, may be instanced of the lower grades of
animal life. — They, too, get their warning, but their senses
are not blunted with high -living and stupefying indul-
gences, and they heed, as is proper, the slightest indica-
tions of alarm. Do you see that feathery innocent crouched
low in the grass ? it sees the ponderous boots of the sports-
man coming crunching along ; and to that little silent
beauty nesting there, they do seem veritable monsters and
real dangers. Of all things most easily affrighted, its little
AMNESTY.
370
IC
heart tlirobs, and it pants with fear,— but instinct, tl
hu.sh of the bird's presiding spirit Rays, bo still. And
silent, regardless, immovable, as if transfixed in death, or
petrified in stone, it conquers its ruling impulse to fly —
it does not move — the danger passes — it is saved, and tlio
little one is left unharme*! to its sweet mission of sin'dn*"-
and of hatehino- souors.
XLV.
No, it is not the very glaring d inger, but the seem-
ingly trivial or none-at-all sort we have reason to dread,
and especially is this the case in our social relations and
intercourse with each other. Then, the whole aspect of
danger is changed, and its warnings obscure as the doubt-
ful signs of a coming storm. Here, there is no head-light
to warn us, no wavin<if flag, no startlint^ tootino- of down-
brakes. One aspect of this kind of danger is that it may
take upon itself the most attractive disguise, and while
coming along in our better humors, unawares, its ap-
proach is pleasing and seductive as the dulcet wave of
some sweet, melodious song.
Thus it is we may lapse into danger insensibly,even when
we mean conscientiously to avoid it, and this is the weak
place with the most impregnable — Then, indeed, it comes
upon us as does sleep in the drowsy vigils of the night ;
and the weary sentinel, with his musket clutched in
his nerveless grasp, dreams he watches and is betrayed !
We may be lost in the effort to save ; and wdien we would
indignantly disclaim, and sincerely, all sinister intention
or thought of guile, the evil has, by some inexpli<:able
380
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
cunning, spun its web about us and within its meshes we
find, when too late, the mischief lay not in the mighty
wave, but in the almost imperceptible mist ; — not in the
issue of loudly heralded alternatives, — not in the violent
rush of rude contending l)odies, — but in the fragrant ex-
halation of kissing rose-leaves, or in the dreamy incense
of sleeping lilies !
Thus, we observe, the danger most to be dreaded is
masked, and one special peculiarity about this fatal to the
victim, is, it seldom if ever appears in exactly the same
disguise ; — indeed, its wardrobe is so multifarious we may
not exaggerate in saying no human eye ever beheld it twice
in the same garb. — It is not uniformed like soldiers, and
never appears when we are in line of battle, ready to re-
ceive it ; or if it does, it comes in a deceitful, phantom form
and insinuating itself like a pestilence, creeps in through
the joints and crevices of the most invulnerable armor.
We cannot photograph it, — we cannot point it out and
spot it, any more than we can the bee that stung us. No ;
— it always appears in some novel form, and while it does
not answer the hackneyed description of what is bad,
neither does it suit the indictment appended to the re-
ward which all mankind has set upon its head. On the
contrary, there is too apt to be a plausibility about it,
that to properly understand, calls for all our sobriety and
vigilance, and even then are we all too frequently misled.
XLVI.
We are reminded in the above connection of the grand
old Frigates that lay in such imposing security in Hampton
AMNESTY.
ScSl
Roads. Tlicy were the last to perceive danr^^er in tlie absurd
little experiment of an " Iron-clad ;" and also Troy, that
was proof against all assaults of arms, and could defy
the prowess of an Agemenmon, fell, at last, an easy prey,
not to the ordinary engines of war, she could laugh at
them, but to a whimsical stratagem — an almost ludicrous
contrivance, that striked boldly in, under tlie apparently
harmless guise of a horse. Affection, even rarely divines
the danger of which I speak, and it may, indeed, it often
does (by way of temptation), come in the for:n or in be-
half of those most cherished and loved. Nay, we may
inhale it in our most innocent admiration, — then it is the
poisoned air breathed in the perfume of sweetest tlowers, —
and finally, it may wear the livery of our most trusted
slave, or robe itself in the mantle of our dearest friend !
" Aye, there's the rub ! "
But you say, what is this dftnger all so puzzling and
so baleful, which you so unkindly attribute to our best
beloved and l)id us beware ? Well, it is a latent mischief
inherent in the nature of things, and is propagated in
the human organism from the vital essence whose quali-
ties combine in the higher growth of animal life, all the
attributes of the universe. — The germ whence it is com-
municated is at once too infmitesimal and etherial to be
seen and too grand and sublime to be comprehended, —
though in the highest state of moral sensitiveness it may
be felt. — All too intangible for the mind to grasp, its crea-
tion is as the dream of the " Immaculate Conception," —
its existence, the impregnation of a glance, and its spawn
nH2
REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER.
matures through the progressive growth of ages, aye, even
of eternity itself, all in a second, — and tliat second is the
first long drawn sigh of the new born l)ahe ! !
Around tliis helpless epitome of humanity and of sin
cluster all that phantom band who claim affinity to
virtue : — Pity is there — Hope is there — Charity is there, — ^
and Fidelity, and all the rest. — The Father of all is in-
visible, buc present in these, the pledges of his love,
— and it is their kiss upon our lips that first startles
us from our long trance and wakes us into life ! ! As
we open our eyes they vanish awa}' — nay, not quite
away — they have only taken refuge in our hearts, and
thenceforward become as the inspiring spirit we call
our " Good Angel," to incline and persuade us to better
things. We may prove obdurate, perverse, wicked, —
we may go all astra}^ and friends and society abandon
us, but these remain always faithful and kind. — Ashamed
of our ingratitude or finding their company irksome and
in ill accord with our appetites, we may seek to give them
the slip and steal away ; but they know all our haunts
and find their way straight to our hiding place — like
absent members of a convivial band, returning, thread
wich fjimiliar ease the labyrinth that leads to the social
meet of boon companions. Often when the world rejoices
they weep and are sad, and when it mourns they smile
as if in the triumph of an unrevealed glory. — Do you
mind that poor girl, she whose life was one of shame ?
" Creed " said, " let her die ! " and there, in that place all
sequestered and shunned they put her away. Ah little
AMNESTY.
:m;i
% aye, even
3ond is the
nnd of sin
sifiinity to
is tliere, —
•
- all is in-
liis love,
•^t startles
ifel! As
not quite
earts, and
t we call
to better
kicked, —
abandon
Ashamed
some and
ive them
ir haunts
ice — like
% thread
he social
[ rejoices
ey smile
Do you
shame ?
place all
Ui little
do they think that place is above all otluas "Ood'sacre," —
the seclusion wliere peace and reconciliation is made with
his erring children, — and far away from tlie stignja of an
earthly tribunal there is i-ejoicing. — It is that baud of
ministering spirits, attril)utes to a Love sublime, welcom-
ing to their better home a sister long lost, but now re-
stored.
XLVII.
I may be wrong in my vi(;ws of the abnndoned and
condenmed ; but though I op[)ose, in this respect, those of
a more rigid orthodoxy, still do I claim that none of these
people have lived in vain. The book of their justification
may be sealed, and the little story of a life's secret die,
but it leaves its seed in precept, and their part, even to
posterity, is not all a desert of barren dust. For their sake,
tdien, I trust, it may not l)e the concatenation of an idle
chimera to assume that, as in the sterile waste of fallow
ocean, there is planted a treasure more precious than
gold, so in the slums of the most ignoble career abides a
" pearl of infinite price ; " and though the wages of sin be
" death," may we not hope therein lies the soul's equity of
redemption.
While the good and ill of life are the effects of caprice
and circumstance, it's only in the last flickering impulse
of our vital energies the spirit grapples in a conflict
whose quietus is eternal amnesty. Condensed within the
narrow scope of a death-pang, there is a boundless mea-
sure of expiation — it may not be contrition, but it has
384
RKVERTKS OF AN OLD SMOKKR.
the redeeming eloment of pain, — and therein is ensconced
a germ whose eh'ctric fiuition is etf'rnal joy. W(^ have
no assnran((^ that tlm pani,' of wliich i sprak niay not
be ])roI<)n«^a'(l and attain to an intensity of a^^ony we wot
not of; — then, mayhap, we can bear it no longer — the
fiesh must snccumb, and a great cry goes out into tlie
gloom. It penetrates into the caverns and crevices of the
earth — it reaches up into tljo Heavens : — " Watcluuan,
what of the niglit ? " It echoes from liill to hill — it rev^er-
berates amongst the mountains and rolls down into the
valleys : — Watchman, tell us of the night ! Then all is
hushed, and a voice is heard, — the same whose dulcet ca-
dence in ineffable balm descended upon Jacob, and Job, and
Abraham : — Peace, all is ivell! —
A gray beam is seen gleaming in the east — it unfolds
and expands — it is the shimmering light of an all-pre-
vailing Love, the Aurora of a great pitying Redem[)tion. —
The darkness yields, — the dawn breaks, and all hail the
perpetual morning of never ending day !
FINIS.
nsconced
\V(^ liavo
may not
' we wot
mil — the
into tlie
CM of t})0
itclinuui,
it rov^cr-
into tho
en all ia
Lilcet ca-
Job, and
unfolds
all-pre-
ption. —
hail the