THEJAMES<. MOFFITT FUND. 
 
 LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 JAMES KENNEDY MOFFITT 
 
 OF THE CLASS OF 86. 
 
 Deceived 
 
 Accession No. 
 
 Class No. 
 
RETROSPECTS AND PROSPECTS 
 
BOOKS BY SIDNEY LANIER. 
 
 Retrospects and Prospects. 
 
 Descriptive and Historical Essays. 12010, $1.50. 
 
 Music and Poetry. 
 
 A Volume of Essays, isrno, $1.50. 
 
 The English Novel. 
 
 A Study in the Development of Personality. New and 
 Revised Edition. Crown 8vo, $2.00. 
 
 The Science of English Verse. 
 
 Crown 8vo, $2.00. 
 
 Poems. 
 
 Edited by his Wife, with a Memorial by WILLIAM 
 HAYES WARD. With portrait. New Edition. i2mo, 
 
 $2.00. 
 
 Select Poems of Sidney Lanier. 
 
 Edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by Prof. 
 MORGAN CALLAWAY, Jr., University of Texas. 121110, 
 net, $1.00. 
 
 The Boy s Library of Legend and Chivalry. 
 
 Edited by SIDNEY LANIER. Four volumes, illustrated. 
 8vo, each, $2.00. 
 
 The Boy s Froissart. By Alfred Kappes. 
 
 The Boy s King Arthur. By Alfred Kappes. 
 
 Knightly Legends of Wales ; or, The Boy s Mabi- 
 nogion. By Alfred Fredericks. 
 
 The Boy s Percy. By E. B. Bensell. 
 
 The set, four volumes in a box^ $7.00. 
 
R ETRO S P EC T S 
 
 AND 
 
 PROSPECTS 
 
 Descriptive and Historical Essays 
 
 BY 
 
 SIDNEY LANIER 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS 
 1899 
 
Copyright, i8gg 
 BY MARY DAY LANIER 
 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 
 
OF TH* 
 
 UNTVEHSITT 
 
 Prefatory Note 
 
 THE essays here republished were written at 
 widely separated periods of the poet s life, under 
 different kinds of circumstances, and with no plan 
 on his part that they should be gathered together 
 in this or any analogous grouping. The sketch of 
 San Antonio, for instance, came into existence 
 from no more elaborate prompting than the need 
 to earn money with the literary materials of a 
 picturesque city, to which Sidney Lanier was 
 driven by dangerous weakness of the lungs. The 
 article was offered to the Southern Magazine, 
 and was published in it. The essay, " The New 
 South," was written for Scribners Monthly, and 
 the "Sketches of India" at the invitation of J. B. 
 Lippincott and Company; the occasion of the 
 Confederate Memorial Address is obvious. The 
 opening essay, " Retrospects and Prospects," had 
 less definiteness of intention. It was composed 
 at the age of twenty-five, the compelled over 
 flow of a buoyant, strenuous soul. 
 
 Thus it may well be that a critic will find no sub 
 stantial thread of continuity to hold the chapters 
 
vi Prefatory Note 
 
 in orderly relation. Quite apart, however, from a 
 common denominator in the subject-matter, there 
 is a justification for this volume of Mr. Lanier s 
 prose sufficient for the many who have come into 
 strong sympathy with his verse. This justification 
 lies in two striking qualities in the argument, 
 the ever-recurring hopefulness and the practical 
 good sense, which have not always been added to 
 the spiritual equipment of poets. , They will serve, 
 present as they are to a remarkable degree in the 
 following chapters, to give a certain harmony to 
 the very different notes sounded in this volume. 
 
 Probably of all those who have read any of 
 Lanier s writings, the great majority remember 
 him as the author of the " Marshes of Glynn," 
 " Corn," and " Clover." To this greater part of 
 his audience it will come as a surprise that this 
 sensitive poet s nature should throw itself with 
 such royal good will into the obstinate tangle of 
 social and industrial conditions confronting his 
 time, that he should gather statistics with such 
 zest about acres and cotton and cattle, with never 
 a hint in the work that the poet would liefer hide 
 behind his traditional privilege of a sad, silent 
 protest against the ugliness of life. (This strong, 
 earnest, and eager attitude toward the world was 
 temperamental with Mr. Lanier, and gives these 
 prose sketches a clear distinction from the per 
 functory labor, the hack-work, of a needy man of 
 
Prefatory Note vii 
 
 letters. Where, too, these essays lose in homo 
 geneity, they gain in the interest of comparing 
 Mr. Lanier s earliest prose style with his latest, 
 the first represented by the opening chapter, 
 " Retrospects and Prospects," written in 1867, the 
 second by the magazine article, " The New 
 South," 1880. The comparison aptly aids in 
 proving the rule of a progress in literary style 
 from the complex to the simple, by the example 
 of a writer whose luxuriant, ingenious imagina 
 tion, and dashing method, were to the last highly 
 characteristic. 
 
 C. D. L. 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 RETROSPECTS AND PROSPECTS i 
 
 SAN ANTONIO DE BEXAR 34 
 
 CONFEDERATE MEMORIAL ADDRESS 94 
 
 THE NEW SOUTH 104 
 
 SKETCHES OF INDIA 136 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 THERE is an old problem of early school- days, which, 
 if it had been intended for an allegory, would make one 
 think of fine John Bunyan. It was doubtless concocted 
 by some steady-going pedagogue, of mathematico-relig- 
 ious proclivities, who little dreamed how he was therein 
 symbolizing the strange question which, in wonderfully 
 different shapes and guises, may now be considered the 
 one question of history, of current politics, of current 
 socialism, of current science, of current poetry, of cur 
 rent religion : 
 
 A boy, quotha, starts to church : every minute he steps 
 three feet forward, but is blown by the wind two feet 
 backward ; the church being (given) miles distant, 
 to find the time in which he will reach it. 
 
 Now Humanity is a boy (as yet), and he has started to 
 church ; but the time is windy, and the wind is against 
 him, insomuch that his heart, which is naturally devout, 
 is fain to cry out, " How long, O ye heavens that rule 
 the winds, how long? " 
 
 Doubtless, in spite of its distinct appearance, the 
 Church of All- Workers is yet a long way off; doubtless, 
 
2 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 young Hopeful will pass many a lonely quagmire where 
 warlocks and jack-o -lanterns will confuse him ; doubt 
 less, he will often, in the school- boy way, make long 
 detours in order to avoid those graveyards of history in 
 which his hot fancy has beheld ghostly calamities stalk 
 ing among the dead and menacing the living ; doubtless, 
 he will often have to regret taking those side-paths to 
 right or left which began so charmingly and ended so 
 dismally in gloomy forest or trackless moor; and per 
 haps he will meet by the way one or two wise-hearted, 
 white-headed folk who will cry, " Courage, little man ! 
 The church is far, but a brave heart will take thee to it." 
 And so, after rare adventures, he will get there if the 
 head-wind will let him. 
 
 Will it ? A parlous question ! For some men, when 
 they hear it, droop their heads and whisper that the 
 two opposing forces of leg-muscle and wind are pre 
 cisely equal ; that while Humanity has been sturdily, 
 stepping out for six or more thousand years, he has 
 been as sturdily thrust back for six or more thousand 
 years, and that he is now exactly where he started ; 
 though truly time has changed the looks of things about 
 him in the interval. Humanity is foolish, say these men, 
 to suppose that he is marching forward : he is only 
 marking time, and he will die in his original foot-tracks, 
 for the Devil is in the wind. 
 
 It cannot be questioned (to abandon the allegory) that 
 man s work, whose result we call civilization, has two 
 powerful tendencies, one of which is forward and the 
 other backward; and recent events have caused many 
 worthy people to fear that at present these two ten 
 dencies are in equilibria, or even that the backward ten 
 dency is beginning to exceed the forward. They observe 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 3 
 
 that at each new upstarting of man s energy and what 
 age has seen so many as this ? the resulting invention 
 or discovery, be it in material or in spiritual matters, 
 immediately inures to the benefit of both the tendencies 
 of civilization. These two tendencies, they conclude, 
 are like two expert duellists, who by the constant attrition 
 of mutual parry and thrust are continually sharpening 
 each other s swords, and continually finding occasion to 
 bewail advantage gained at the expense of advantage 
 conferred. 
 
 For instance, "Look at the sea-cable," cries Pro 
 gress ; " how beautiful were the greetings of the East 
 and West ! " 
 
 " Ay," reply the Equilibrium men ; " but the sea-tele 
 graph brings nearly as much war news as peace news, 
 and it talks as rapidly in the service of wealthy falsehood 
 as of needy truth ! " 
 
 " Well, but what say you to the multitude of the type 
 foundries? " again inquires confident Progress : " see how 
 the heathen are lit with Bibles every year ! " 
 
 " So," rejoins Equilibrium sturdily, " and observe also 
 how the breakfast tables of the enlightened are darkened 
 every morning with seduction cases and crim.-con. re 
 ports, and chafrings and vile abuse and blasphemies, well 
 and legibly printed in the newspapers ! " 
 
 "How about steam, then?" shouts Progress, getting 
 red in the face. " Shortly, steam will take you from 
 New York to the Rocky Mountains in half a week ! " 
 
 "True," whispers Equilibrium, in stage-tragic voice, 
 "true; and steam already runs whiskey distilleries 
 enough to throw the whole world into delirium tremens ; 
 and three thieves to one honest man will make time by 
 your railroad." 
 
4 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 In view of the respectability of these parties and the 
 consequent weight of their opinions, it is surely worth 
 the while of earnest people to look more closely into the 
 age, to note the two opposing forces in our civilization, 
 and to see which one of these is really availing itself of 
 the new resources offered by exhaustless invention. With 
 more force now than ever before, it may be said that to 
 comprehend his epoch is at once the most difficult and 
 the most pressing emergency of the thinker, of the sober 
 citizen, or of the selfish demagogue. For he who to 
 day says " Let us look into the time," speaks a thrilling 
 word. Into what time does he invite us? Into the 
 twentieth century ! That old road we called the nine 
 teenth century is ended ; we stand at the mile-post with 
 beating hearts and gaze up the unfamiliar avenue of a 
 new era. And the emergency is difficult. In this era- 
 dawn, it is as if we rubbed our eyes at daybreak. We 
 are amazed at the singular dawn-noises and dawn- sights 
 which present themselves on all sides in wild contrasts. 
 Yonder are the dim forms of the night animals slinking 
 away into the forest, and growling in bloody fights for 
 lairs and refuges ; about us is the stertorous upstarting 
 of day animals, hungry for prey; above all the blood 
 and the snarling bends the morning sky ; and the morn 
 ing star, that love-light in the misty blue eye overhead, 
 gleams upon the serene dew. Who at such a moment 
 is so calm of soul that he can scrutinize the low clouds 
 yonder, and prophesy sunshine or foul weather for the 
 day ? Yes, that central idea which has for a considerable 
 period been controlling with centripetal force the vast 
 revolving circle of circumstance, and which we have 
 been denominating the nineteenth century, has abdicated 
 its position ; and a new idea, which we will doubtless 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 5 
 
 call the twentieth century, is but now settling itself in the 
 central seat of power. What is this new idea, and in 
 what direction will it whirl the old passionate energies 
 of men? Which of the two prime opposing forces in 
 man will succeed in leaguing with it ? This is the problem 
 which demands solution in some sort alike at the hands 
 of the public and the private citizen, of the honest and 
 the villainous, of the benefactor and the robber. Of 
 course, he who exaggerates the difficulty of a problem 
 and then proceeds to solve it in sight of the people may 
 be justly accused of charlatanry. To disarm such accu 
 sation, this present writer declares that his aim is not to 
 solve but only to clear the way for solution ; and if in so 
 modest emprise his success be to lighten by one stroke 
 the labor of stronger and wiser men, then his most soar 
 ing hope will alight and fold contented wing. 
 
 A soul and a sense linked together in order to fight 
 each other more conveniently, compose a man. A fear 
 ful double is he ; and these two combatants, when all 
 is said, are simply the two duellists that sharpen each 
 other s swords, and are the two confronting powers of 
 the boy struggling forward and the wind pressing back 
 ward. This conflict of soul and sense is precisely the 
 old conflict of Roman Patrician and Plebeian. Sense is 
 luxurious ; luxury is called sensuality : sense is brutal 
 because it knows only itself; sense is fastidiously nice in 
 small matters ; sense measures precisely with dainty rule 
 and square, and calls its measurements conventionalities 
 all of which are Patrician characteristics. Soul, on 
 the other hand, is essentially Plebeian. Soul loves and 
 hates, and grasps and flings away, and laughs and weeps 
 in a thoroughly loud, vulgar way vulgar at least from 
 the Patrician view of the proprieties. Now the Plebs 
 
6 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 won in Rome ; and soul must win in life. The Patrician 
 is always old, the Plebeian is always young. The old luxu 
 rious patrician East is full of "Hindoo life-weariness;" 
 but the young plebeian West is 
 
 "... young 
 As Eve with Nature s daybreak on her brow." 
 
 Sense drops his languid hands and sighs for a new titilla- 
 tion, which, when he has got it, can elicit from him only 
 some gentle trituration of gloved hands in the way of 
 applause; soul offers him a fresh, dewy enthusiasm of 
 love, a brave morning-energy of life. Now if, in spite 
 of this conflict and contrast, the Patrician sense should 
 awake to the nobleness of the Third Estate, should vol 
 untarily abandon his own pseudo-nobility and fall into 
 the wild ranks of the Plebeians, like the old Roman 
 Tribune of history, like the Romney Leigh of fiction, 
 considering his apparent disgrace a true promotion, 
 then would the rightful progress of man go on. 
 
 It is hoped to prove that this is not only the right 
 progress of humanity, but that it is and has been the 
 actual historic progress of men and things and events. 
 For as time flows on, man and nature steadily ethereal- 
 ize. As time flows on, the sense-kingdom continually 
 decreases, and the soul-kingdom continually increases, 
 and this not by the destruction of sense s subjects, but by a 
 system of promotions in which sensuous things, constantly 
 etherealizing, constantly acquire the dignity of spiritual 
 things, and so diminish their own number and increase 
 the other. This paradoxical ennobling-by- disgrace of the 
 material into the spiritual expresses the historic develop 
 ment of the world. Over this route Nature and Art, 
 like a bird s shadow and a bird, have flown up to to-day. 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 7 
 
 By this course politics and religion, which are respec 
 tively the body and the soul of life, have acquired their 
 present features. 
 
 And first with the first. 
 
 Nature, in that fine ramble of hers along the shore of 
 the great deep (a ramble which we call Time), has been 
 good enough to write and strew along the sand at inter 
 vals short monographs of autobiography which remain 
 for our reading. These quaint epistles of Nature, like 
 all women s letters, full of blots, of erasures, of false 
 syntax, of queer spelling, of ejaculations, of double 
 underscorings, of marvellous punctuations, of confiden 
 tial disclosures, of tiger hates, of lily loves ; these rare, 
 incoherent letters, in one line repeating starry compli 
 ments, in another retailing muddy scandals of old con 
 vulsions and hideousnesses, a scripture complex with 
 crossings and re-crossings of the page, a composition 
 intricate with breaks and clauses and parentheses, 
 these violet-stained letters, I say, of our sweetheart 
 Nature, all breathe one tone in respect of the constant 
 etherealizing process which she has been undergoing. 
 He who collates her earliest letters with her latest will 
 discover that whereas she was a stormy virago of sixty, 
 she has now been magically rejuvenated, and is become 
 marvellously like to a gentle and dainty-fingered maiden 
 of sixteen. What Frederic von Hardenberg has called 
 the " old Titanic times " of Nature, " in which all objects 
 lay strewn about the earth like the remains of a terrific 
 repast ; " times in which volcanoes flamed and earth 
 quakes cracked, and glaciers crawled and avalanches fell, 
 and oceans overbrimmed, and islands rose above or sank 
 beneath the sea; times in which land, air, and water 
 were horrible with megatherium and pterodactyl and 
 
8 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 ichthyosaurus, these times are gone : things are less 
 hideous, and behave more gently. To-day we have 
 from Nature rather dews than avalanches; to-day she 
 gives us more of the fruitful mould and less of the barren 
 rock; to-day sees petroleum wells and healing springs 
 instead of volcanoes ; to-day the woods emerge from 
 the gloom of giant ferns, and revel in the lights and 
 odors of tiny flowers ; to-day we pluck fruit from off 
 rocks that once starved a fir. 
 
 But more than this. Nature has in these days really 
 caught the spirit of man. In the Greek times Nature 
 rose half-way to the dignity of man, with her oreads and 
 nymphs and fauns; in our times she has risen all the 
 way. If Tennyson stroll into a glen, the genius loci is 
 now not a hamadryad, but a veritable human soul ; and 
 to Tennyson (and through him to us) the tree laughs 
 and loves and hates, and is jealous and generous and 
 selfish, like any man. The sea should not mourn for his 
 lost Triton ; for the sea should now have done playing 
 like a sea-god, and should rage passionately and repose 
 grandly like a man. The modern poets have flown out 
 and put a star on the forehead of each rock and tree 
 and cloud and wave ; it is the star of love and grief 
 which is worn by purified men. For, listen ! Yonder 
 in England grows a " Talking Oak " that talks as well as 
 Tennyson ! Verily, we have heard nothing like it since 
 on yon Midsummer s Night the wall held forth of 
 Pyramus and Thisbe, and good Demetrius swore it was 
 the wittiest partition that ever he heard discourse. A 
 very English oak, a right gnarled fellow, with root, trunk, 
 and branches, watching the world revolve about him as 
 if he had a man s eye ; swearing " By summers ! " 
 plumping an acorn with fatherly pride into the bosom of 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 9 
 
 a maiden sleeping therebeneath, and returning thanks 
 for this honor which had befallen his progeny; and 
 lastly, weeping and sighing, which was most human of 
 all. In this fine forest of Master Tennyson is another 
 tree that thrills with an inward agony ; and down upon 
 it gazes the sun, which is become a human eye with 
 fringed storms for eyelashes ; and the by-passed tem 
 pests moan and call out of other lands. And Coleridge s 
 mountain- top struggles all the night with troops of stars ; 
 and Swinburne has overheard some sea-conversation 
 which he has translated into good English ; and angelic 
 Shelley, and sweet Christina Rossetti, and deep-thoughted 
 Elizabeth Browning, and quaint Jean Ingelow, and over 
 brimming Ruskin, and sad Maurice de Gue"rin, and that 
 tempest Victor Hugo, and dainty John Keats, and all- 
 mingling Jean Paul, and priestly Novalis, and a thou 
 sand more poets in verse and prose, have proven to us 
 how human physical nature has become, by translating 
 Nature s maiden fantasies for the general ear. So that 
 nowadays not only may the geniuses of the world 
 those ministers plenipotentiary at the court of Nature 
 hold diplomatic interviews and discourse high topics 
 with her, but so well have they made her language 
 known, and so gracious has she proven, that all the com 
 monest domestic folk may run out and chit-chat with 
 her, whenever they will, a million at a time. 
 
 ? Nature, therefore (to return to the soberer philosophic 
 method), does really spiritualize herself, as time rolls on, 
 into a genuine companion and friend of man. , She dees 
 really come under the influence of that great central 
 idea of the ages which presides over the conclave of spe 
 cial ideas controlling special epochs, the idea of ethe- 
 realization. A most provoking word ! For it so nearly 
 
io Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 expresses and yet does not express that process which 
 combines the two ideas of an old woman become beau 
 tiful by rejuvenation and of a young woman becoming 
 wise and gentle and pure by age. jNow, if Nature be 
 the glancing shadow, and Art the living singing-bird 
 above it, surely the motions of the shadow will be but 
 copies of the flutterings of the bird ; and we shall expect 
 to find that Art, too, has been spiritualizing itself, has 
 been forsaking its Titanic days and chastening its frolic 
 awkwardness, has been learning to rely more on soul and 
 less on sense, has been divesting itself of unsightly ma 
 terial props and supports, has been, in short, etherealiz- 
 ing and floating in the thin air of the spiritual.; An 
 exhaustive treatise on this department of the question 
 would have to contain separate volumes devoted to each 
 of these following subjects, namely, a searching analysis 
 of the past and present conditions and characteristics of 
 architecture, sculpture, painting, music, poetry, and prose, 
 together with various discourses under the head of the 
 useful arts. But this present paper must content itself 
 to etch, by single, and therefore necessarily inexact, 
 outline strokes, the contrasting portraits of these arts as 
 existing heretofore and now. 
 
 As for architecture, one scarcely knows in this day 
 whether it has not voluntarily abandoned its old ten 
 dencies towards preaching, and gone into business with 
 the conviction that commerce pays better than piety. 
 What time has architecture to spend on churches, when 
 here are thousands of railroad depots and newspaper 
 buildings and dry-goods stores thronging around him, 
 jingling their pocketsful of money and offering heavy 
 prices for airiness, lightness, and rapidity of construc 
 tion? Yet in spite of the fact that architecture has 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 1 1 
 
 become rather one of the useful than of the fine arts, in 
 those very words " airiness, lightness, and rapidity" has 
 been indicated the veritable etherealizing change which 
 it has undergone. jTrinity Church compared with an 
 Egyptian temple is as Tennyson compared with Milton ; 
 the massive force of the former has been refined into 
 the spiritual power of the latter, a power full as strong 
 and greatly less unwieldy. , And so when architecture 
 builds nowadays a place for the wealthy who die, there 
 arises, not a pyramid to lie like a dead weight on the 
 breast of the dead, but some airy and light mausoleum 
 whose taper proportions direct our thought rather to 
 the soul that is risen out of the grave than to th<? inert 
 bones that decay within it. 
 
 And what of sculpture ? Well and let no one cry 
 out until he has read to the end here is Webster s 
 statue in marble, or Washington s equestrian eidolon in 
 bronze. What? Webster, with white eyes, with white 
 hair, with white draperies? Or Washington, with bronze 
 eyes, bronze hair, and a bronze horse? We approach 
 these statues, then, with a preliminary chilling sense of 
 unreality \ and we crush back this sense : all felt and 
 done half unconsciously. But we observe that the 
 statues are well executed, that they indicate faithful 
 study, that the pose is good ; and we say to our friend : 
 " It is a fine imitation : how natural is the hand ! 
 how perfect that nail ! " Why, this is precisely the 
 criticism of Gellert s Fool ; only, here, wisdom and folly 
 agree, and the judgment is a true one. For imagine a 
 Greek led in to see the Phidian Jove. There sits the 
 majesty of Olympus, amid thunderbolts and winged 
 Victories ; the Greek s eye is misty, and looks at the 
 statue through a rosy dream ; a divine breath from the 
 
12 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 god s lip penetrates to the man s soul, which grows 
 tense therewith, as a cloud is tense with lightning. Will 
 the Greek step close and pick at the great toe-nail to 
 see if it be well chiselled ? Imagine it ! He rather 
 walks slowly out and dreams, through the streets, of 
 heaven and of immortality, and the like. Now the power, 
 factitious or otherwise, of Jove had informed his statue, 
 and made it, quoad the Greek, transparent, so that the 
 Greek looked through the statue, and not at it. Sculp 
 ture, per Phidias genius, wielded this power of Jove, 
 and so cast an unearthly glamour over the incongruities 
 of its work. But, unfortunately (for sculpture at least), 
 sculpture has lost this power. Webster and Washington 
 were great men, but not gods ; we approach their statues 
 with reverential but not with frenzied souls ; we are 
 calm enough to judge in the matter of nails and eyes ; 
 and we are, unwittingly, at once true enough and cruel 
 enough to stab poor sculpture to the heart, when we 
 walk away smiling and saying, " How fine the nail ! " 
 ( For Art does not imitate : it creates ; and if the artist 
 has only imitated Webster in stone, and has not veritably 
 re-created Webster in our soul, then Webster, the 
 artist, and we, all three, are to be commiserated./ So 
 that sculpture, like architecture, has grown at once more 
 rich and less exalted by abandoning religion to take up 
 trade ; and though in this lower capacity it still in all 
 respects bears out the theory wnich has been enunciated, 
 yet as a useful art it is not to be now treated of. The 
 truth of the whole matter seems to be that Art, striving 
 in these modern times for that most rare combination, 
 truth and reality, has come to regard sculpture as a 
 glaring unreality embodied, and has purified herself of 
 it ; has knocked it away as a mere material prop, weak 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 13 
 
 in itself and unnecessary for support. It is impossible, 
 however, to speak of modern sculpture without referring 
 to what is perhaps the brightest example of genius in 
 that art yet afforded by our country. I mean the small 
 groups of Rogers. Little mention has been made of 
 these groups ; but surely genius had a hand on the 
 chisel there. And one cites them with all the more 
 pleasure since they in all respects bear out the theory 
 which it has been partially attempted to enunciate 
 the theory of etherealization, of spiritualization. They 
 are genuine creations : the black man, there, for all his 
 turned-up toes and his patched knee, will start some 
 high thoughts in the minds of the meditative ; and the 
 little cottage-porch, whose vines are thrilling with the 
 lingering kiss of the departing soldier on his trim lassie s 
 lips, sends a man s soul wandering away amid a multi 
 tude of sweet and sad things. These groups afford per 
 haps the only field now left to sculpture. They engage 
 themselves with the domesticities of our life ; and by as 
 much as home-life is tenderer than camp-life, by as 
 much as an idyl is more heavenly than an epic, by so 
 much are these groups more ethereal than the groups of 
 ancient sculpture. 
 
 Signs exist that painting, as such, will follow its breth 
 ren of the compass and chisel. If, however, this word 
 be considered as the general name of that art which 
 depicts upon flat surfaces by means of perspective and 
 light and shade, then better things must be said of it. 
 As photography, as engraving upon wood, stone, and 
 metals, painting has suffered a rare sea-change on this 
 long voyage of man. , It has abandoned the purple and 
 gold in which it long ruled over men; it has come 
 down upon us in a rare new avatar of the colorless 
 
14 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 photograph and engraving. These two, besides having 
 copied most of the beautiful old pictures, give us daily 
 a thousand new things full as beautiful. How grand is 
 painting, then, as simple shade and light ! The dark, 
 the bright ; night, day ; death, life ; how all these ideas 
 couple and symbolize each other ! And how impartially, 
 like death, has painting knocked at the doors of all 
 palaces and huts in the land since it became only color 
 less ; and how radiantly, like life, has painting lit up the 
 humble as well as the pretentious homes in the land 
 since it became photography and engraving ! Like two 
 new worlds, each half-lit and half-shaded at once, and 
 each bearing a whole worldful of rare and strange 
 beauties upon its surface, float forth these two newly 
 discovered planets, and glitter in a free heaven for all 
 to see. No man may have a home nowadays that is 
 all unlovely. The poorest may have a picture that the 
 richest would prize ; and the richest can scarcely buy a 
 picture whose faithful eidolon is not attainable by the 
 poorest. See, then, how this art, painting, has risen 
 and floated away free as air and sunshine into all homes 
 and all wastes, simply by having lightened itself of the 
 purely material load of color ! So that painting, also, like 
 nature, like architecture, like sculpture, etherealizes ; 
 and we get from it now rather tender home -scenes than 
 barbarous battle-scenes ; rather little ones saying prayers 
 at mothers knees than bloody-heeled conquerors soiling 
 the plain. 
 
 II 
 
 
 
 \ FOR himself personally, this present writer is right 
 glad that he is now come to speak of music. This is the 
 art of to-day ; this is the art into whose hands has fallen 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 15 
 
 the unfinished work of the bygone arts. Music, Music : 
 one repeats this word a thousand times to oneself, as 
 a boy murmurs his sweetheart s name in solitude. 
 
 And here one must beg indulgence for some brief 
 time. For does the student of physiology run to his 
 beloved and calmly strip off the pearly skin and dissect 
 the dainty limbs, in order to improve his science ? t And 
 if not, how can this writer, in the presence of this divin 
 ity whom he is scarce bold enough to love, prate of her 
 food-assimilations and stomachic-actions, and progress, 
 and the like ? No ! By her dawn-gray eyes, and by the 
 red lips of the Nine, and by all the holy oaths of art, he 
 will for this once sink the philosopher in the man ; he will 
 for this little while refuse to be music s surgeon : he 
 will leave this to some one who is called a Doctor of 
 Music. He will only remain kneeling, and swear to all 
 knights of the age that this Music is the fairest of all 
 God s creatures, that her heart is a harp and her voice 
 is a flute ; the which he will maintain with sword, lance, 
 and battle-axe against all comers, Paynim or Christian ! 
 And having so discharged his challenge-obligation, let 
 him now, for some few blissful moments, breathe in 
 whatever extravagant tropes the passion of his love will 
 lend him, his knightly duty and reverence and loyal love 
 to music, } 
 
 i A silver horn represents the dead mineral kingdom, a 
 wooden flute represents the half-animate vegetable king 
 dom, and a sinew-strung violin represents the living 
 animal kingdom ; so have the three kingdoms of nature 
 sent each a minister to the court of King Man, and 
 music is their diplomacy., "JThe horn is, therefore, the 
 controlled and firm voice of the enduring metals ; the 
 flute is the pure yet passionate voice of the trees, which. 
 
1 6 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 live and yet are sinless ; and the violin is the strange, 
 mournful-joyful voice of blood happily bounding in veins 
 or painfully shooting from wounds, and of breath peace 
 fully working in life or laboringly departing in death i 
 
 The new-born child hears before he sees ; the dying 
 man hears after his eyes are forever dimmed : and so 
 hearing is, as Richter says, " the first sense of the living " 
 and " the last sense of the dying." This sense there 
 fore clasps in its arms more of life than any other. Upon 
 the musical air-waves float to and fro invisible ships 
 freighted with strange freight, trading between souls and 
 finding wharfage on the shore of the ear : to which ships, 
 full cargoes, both ways, forever and forever ! is the earn 
 est wish of all true hearts. 
 
 ^ Melody is as if one loved without reciprocation : 
 harmony is the satisfaction of mutual love. > Perhaps for 
 this reason melody fascinates disappointed humanity, and 
 harmony pleases the satisfied angels. iWhen the young 
 lusty earth leapt out of the night like a white doe out of 
 the woods, and sprang into the open heaven-road to 
 make a race for life, then the morning-stars sang and 
 charmed it into a circular path which it has never 
 left : such is the power of music over animals ! ) vA.s the 
 blue sky, at the horizon-line, adjusts itself precisely 
 to all the unevennesses of the land, so music, our other 
 sky, adapts itself to all the inequalities of life, and has a 
 tune to suit the lowest or the highest in society and the 
 most barbarous or the most enlightened in civilization. 
 From Ashango-land to America; from Poor Tom, the 
 singing idiot, to Tennyson, the singing philosopher; 
 from a jaw-bone rattled by a savage to a great organ 
 played by Mendelssohn : such is the blue reach and 
 overspan of the sky of music. , 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 17 
 
 .Music defies calculation, it baffles prophecy, it van 
 ishes during analysis., It has more avatars than Vishnu, 
 more metamorphoses than Jupiter, more transmigrations 
 than Pythagoras s soul. It is, at one and the same time, 
 an angel and a devil ; a muse and a fury ; a tarantula 
 and an anodyne ; a free Proteus and a Prometheus 
 bound. It is a spiritual analogue to carbon; which 
 appears one moment as charcoal, the next moment as 
 rose-leaf, and the next as diamond. Yonder, as drum 
 and horn, music marches at the head of armies like a 
 general ; here, as voice or lute, it sings by the cradles of 
 children like a mother. In the cathedral it is chanting 
 Laudamus for the birth of a king ; in the graveyard it is 
 chief mourner at the burial of a beggar. Last night in 
 slippers and spangles it led a dance ; to-day in sober 
 black it leads a church-service. It conducts virtue along 
 the aisle to the marriage-altar ; it inflames vice to unholy 
 
 embrace in the brothel. In the music-room it is a 
 
 i 
 
 piano, in the forest it is a whistling bird, in the heavens 
 it is a groaning wind, in the firmament it is a whirling 
 star, and in the soul it is like a serene firea 
 
 Why does not our age, which claims to be "a Prospero 
 of eras, subject and tame this singular spirit, Music, 
 which is at once an Ariel and a Caliban, and will indiffer 
 ently girdle the earth or chop firewood for us? 
 
 ,To the soul, music combines in itself the power of 
 steam, the agility of electricity, and the fidelity of print 
 ing-type. It is a civilization in a conch-shell.? 
 
 Love is avast lily whose petals gleam faintly just under 
 the wave of life, and sometimes sway and float out above 
 it. Up from this lily, then, arises an odor : it is Music. 
 
 "The orator," said Quintilian, "should know every 
 thing." How much more should the musician under- 
 
1 8 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 stand all things ! , For the true musician is as much 
 higher than the orator as love is higher than law. ; The 
 Greeks did well therefore when they made their word 
 Mousike signify a symmetrical and harmonious education 
 of all the powers of a man. 
 
 And now (to turn from love to philosophy again) , let 
 us see how music has etherealized. At first glance, 
 appearances do not seem propitious to the theory. For 
 there is in this country an institution which, under the 
 guise of a devotee of music, has done music more injury 
 than all its open enemies. This institution is the Italian 
 Opera, as at present rendered an important limitation, 
 for it is by no means wished to attack those noble chefs- 
 d ceuvre of some fine musicians, but only the present 
 method of getting these works before the public. Out of 
 the long catalogue of crimes committed by this Italian 
 Opera, let us choose two, in the discussion of which our 
 theory will perhaps be confirmed. 
 
 First : let it be known to those wholly unacquainted 
 with the science, that if the tone E (for instance) be 
 made upon the A string of the violin with the bow, and 
 at the same time the open E string be gently and repeat 
 edly touched with the little finger of the left hand, then 
 the open string will repeat the tone of the string upon 
 which the bow is drawn, producing a vibratory effect 
 which is like a thrill, and is very powerful in suitable 
 passages. This vibratory effect is a mere increase and 
 decrease of the volume of the tone, which remains pure 
 E all the time. Now in endeavoring to imitate this 
 effect with the voice, the opera people have allowed 
 themselves to fall into a monstrous mistake, which, ridic 
 ulous as it is, has by excessive and monotonous repeti 
 tion so habituated them and most of their hearers to it 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 19 
 
 that, as bitter tobacco has become essential to men, so 
 terrible discord has become essential to the opera. For 
 instead of really imitating the violin effect an imitation 
 which even if perfectly accomplished should be used 
 only in rare cases of peculiar expression instead of 
 really keeping the identical tone E, as the violin does, 
 and alternately increasing and diminishing its volume, 
 the opera-singers increase and diminish the pitch of their 
 tone, and make a sort of up and down trill, from E, for 
 instance, to E sharp above and E flat below : a mistake 
 which, besides rendering a wavering sound incapable of 
 harmonizing with the purer instrumental tones of the 
 orchestra, further produces in itself a horrible discord. 
 v To prove all this : let any one hear (for a common exam 
 ple) that pretty trio of Verdi s in Attila played by three 
 pure horns, or flutes, or violoncellos, and the hearer will 
 thank God for the gift of his ears ; but let him hear the 
 same trio as commonly rendered by the opera-people, 
 and, unless his ears be long and villainous hairy ears, he 
 will pray Heaven to close them up, for the discords are 
 really unendurable save to those whose musical sense 
 has been so battered that it is a question whether Bully 
 Bottom s tongs and bones would not frantically delight 
 them, if only the said tongs and bones should call them 
 selves Tongoni and Bonetti.y 
 
 , And, secondly : look ! thou audience in white gloves 
 and marvellous coiffure, here comes out one on the 
 stage to sing the tenor part in this opera. One what ? 
 Is it a man ? How it ogles, smirks, leers, strains, wiggles 
 its moustache, and throws its whole artistic soul into the 
 pose of its beautiful divine leg ! " What a leg ! what a 
 calf ! " we say, when it has finished perhaps the sweetest 
 aria of Bellini. Why, this singing tcrtium quid is not a 
 
2O Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 man ; it is only a calf of a leg, with appurtenances and 
 machinery (such as soul, mind, stomach, and the like) 
 for preserving the same in order and condition, i Must 
 we fall down and worship this calf (of a leg), set up in 
 the temple of music by the heathen ? It is not even a 
 golden calf; nay, to crown this infinitely blasphemous 
 joke, it is not always a flesh calf, but oftentimes a mere 
 counterfeit, concocted of meal-bran and springs and flesh- 
 colored tights ! Ah, tenori who adore your own calves ; 
 ah, bassi who pamper your tons of flesh, ye are but 
 wretched human confetti: ye are not even the sweet 
 meats of men that you would be bad enough, if 
 genuine ; but ye are only made of flour-paste without 
 any sugar or spices at all, mere confetti such as your 
 countrymen throw at each other in the Carnival-days ! ) 
 What have these pastry-figures to do with music ? What 
 know they of the poverties, of the struggles, of the pas 
 sions, of the blacknesses, of the weaknesses, of the yearn 
 ings, of the sister s-tendernesses, of the mother s-agonies, 
 of the home-storms, of the rare purities of life? Are 
 these the preachers by whom the beautiful evangel of 
 music is to be unfolded to sinful men and women? Are 
 these the men who can make our souls see the Titanic 
 up-reaching of Beethoven ; the glittering sparkle of 
 Rossini ; the tender purity of Bellini ; the quiet, deep 
 smiles of Mendelssohn ; the intense heart of Chopin, 
 which in breaking exhaled music as a crushed flower 
 exhales fragrance ; the night-worship of Schumann and 
 Dohler ; the pellucid depths of Ernst ; the wailing unsat- 
 isfaction of Gottschalk, whose music stands over his life 
 as over a grave stand the marble image of the dead man 
 beneath ; the quaint alternation of loneliness and ethereal 
 cheerfulness of Gounod, in whose music Scotch echoes 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 11 
 
 recur amid German beauties, as if heather-bells grew 
 amid the vines of Rhineland ; and all the thousand sweet 
 nesses of the thousand other modern writers for piano 
 or flute, or violin or voice? Why do we not worship 
 devoutly in the opera-house as in a church ; why do not 
 all the artists, as was said of Bach, transform with their 
 music every place of performance into a church ; why 
 do we not have inspiration and instruction and conver 
 sation from this stage-pulpit where the preacher is life and 
 his voice is music, with its force, its thrill, its persuasion, 
 its healing, its wounding, its pure condemnation, its up 
 ward pointing?) 
 
 Now this, as was said, at first looks bad for our theory 
 of the progress of music ; but it is really the proof of it. 
 ( For opera-houses do not pay ; and will not until the 
 managers shall give us an opera with violins that are not 
 insane, with singers that are men, with voices that are 
 pure and unvibratory, with propriety of costume and 
 scene, and with a mise en scene that is altogether quiet, 
 pure, and dewy with the emotions of the morning, rather 
 than loud, hot, and lustful with the dark-red passions of 
 the evening. And so, when one speaks of music now-a- 
 days, one, if he be any lover of music, has no reference 
 whatever to the Italian Opera ; one means Schubert s 
 and Mendelssohn s and Chopin s music, as fresh young 
 girls and pure men render it in private, the number of 
 whom is now immense and rapidly increasing. For the 
 Italian Opera has abandoned music in favor of legs ; and 
 music, with strict justice, has abandoned the Italian 
 Opera., 
 
 In purifying herself of this very material and sensual 
 element, music has etherealized, and like painting, has 
 floated away freely into all homes over the whole land. 
 
22 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 More than any art, music is in omnium manibus ; and 
 steadily improves in purity, in refined spiritual strength, 
 in universality. The perfection of the piano, which has 
 arisen out of the old spinet like a beautiful soul out of a 
 deformed body ; and the recent development of the flute 
 into a pure solo instrument (for which, however, no 
 adequate music has yet been written), together with the 
 new creations of Chopin, of Mendelssohn, and of Wagner, 
 which have each added a new continent to the old world 
 of music (though Wagner s is, it must be confessed, as 
 yet a barbarous continent) ; all these things show how 
 music spiritualizes, how she strengthens with the strength 
 of the spirit. At once purify and strengthen thyself, O 
 Beloved, Beloved ! for thou who compared with all art 
 now seemest but as a dove by the side of the great bird 
 Roc, thou wilt yet upon thy two dove s-wings bear a whole 
 world- full of people to Heaven ! 
 
 yTo discover the process of spiritualization which poetry 
 has undergone, one has only to compare Tennyson with 
 Milton. One will immediately observe that both are 
 powerful, but different in the method of it. Milton is 
 strong rather from the main force of physical vastness 
 and the unwieldy pressure of colossal matters ; Tennyson 
 is strong by virtue of the calm, collected, intense potential 
 momentum of steady spiritual enthusiasm. > Milton s is 
 the strength of the sea in its rage : Tennyson s is the 
 potential force of the sea in its repose : and inasmuch as 
 calm control is better, is more spirit-like, is more ethereal 
 than indiscriminate violence, however powerful, in just so 
 much is Tennyson s poetry more spiritual than Milton s, 
 and to-day s poetry more ethereal than that of the past 
 times. Observe, too, how many purely material acces 
 sories of Milton s poetry are well gotten rid of and puri- 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 23 
 
 fied away in Tennyson s. The elisions, the apostrophic 
 shortenings, the involutions, the anaconda conceits which 
 in mere kindness wind about us and crush us to death : 
 these are gone. Full words, direct arrangements of 
 clauses, terse phrases, Saxon roots, light, airy metaphors, 
 three-word conceits : these display themselves in Tenny 
 son. Dainty flowers have sprouted where the gigantic 
 ferns died. The sesquipedalian hollowness and clumsi 
 ness of the classic metres, the chilling shocks of the 
 " poetical license," the comic inevitableness of the four- 
 footed iambics rhyming though the heavens fall for it, and 
 lashed in distichs like well-matched hounds in couples 
 all these iron manacles on the wrists of poetry have been 
 stricken off by a magic touch, the walls of the prison have 
 opened, and the bound apostle may now preach in the 
 market-place./ 
 
 Like the Sanger of Goethe, the modern poet sings as 
 the bird sings. He need not wait for the fine frenzy : 
 he is possessed by the unflickering flame of an enthusiasm 
 that nor wanes nor dies ; and we now get poems o week 
 days as well as Sundays. Precisely as music freed itself 
 from the serpentine cadenzas and mazy complexities and 
 endless fugues of the last century, has poetry also freed 
 itself from the hampering limitations of that era. Indeed 
 poetry has in some notable cases of late so completely 
 transfigured its external address that it must needs go 
 under an alias. Several times recently poetry has put off 
 the purple. Porphyrogenitus has donned the sober dress 
 of the citizen, that he might go incog, into many places 
 otherwise inaccessible to royalty. His alias is " Prose ; " 
 and how he becomes it ! Look at Hugo ; look at Rich- 
 ter, at Ruskin, at Carlyle, at De Gue"rin, at Hawthorne, 
 at Poe ! Here is Poetry escaped from his palace, bath- 
 
24 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 ing, crazy with delight, in the sea and the air and the 
 sunshine, darting into hovels that he never saw before, 
 and relieving poverties that he never had suspected. 
 What a man, a right, true, god-like man is this : who is 
 as exemplary in citizenship as he was magnificent in 
 royalty, so that men know not whether to love him better 
 as the freeholder Prose or as the king Poetry ! 
 
 Some years ago Elizabeth Browning noticed that the 
 drama now no longer employs the huge mask wherewith 
 the player 
 
 " Was wont to ape the front of Themis son, 
 
 nor the brazen trumpet which lent a terrific sonorousness 
 to the voice, nor the thick sole which increased his 
 stature to more than mortal height. The drama has out 
 grown these mere physical aids. Men s souls get taller, 
 and do not have to be propped up to see over the 
 bars of matter into the ideal field beyond. And so 
 poetry, wielding its kingly power with the light airiness 
 of prose a knight fighting in his scarf, still invulner 
 able, and all the better that his limbs are unshackled by 
 the cumbrous armor which he has thrown off is 
 perhaps the most striking instance of the process which 
 has been so often alluded to, the process of etherealizing, 
 of lightening, of freeing things from the limitations of 
 time and space. Time and space have long been our 
 Giants Grim. Now their power doth wane and wane. It 
 is well. They were tyrants : let them fall. 
 
 How tempting is it to pursue this idea of etherealiza- 
 tion into extremes that might with justice be called fan 
 tastic ! For even all those material forces which men 
 once employed in the mechanic arts to fulfil the stern 
 exactions of space and time have undergone a precisely 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 25 
 
 analogous modification to that of art. For instance, the 
 ancients did hew and whack each other with hard, tangi 
 ble stone and steel, while we propel our bullets with an 
 elastic gas. And whereas the gross muscles of men and 
 beasts formerly did the world s work, now, on the con 
 trary, the invisible vapor, steam, does it. Moreover, 
 once the world talked between distances by carrier- 
 pigeons and couriers ; now, however, viewless electricity, 
 which is so ethereal that some have even declared it to 
 be a spirit, conveys our messages. 
 
 But, leaving these fancies to some quieter moment 
 than this busy daybreak of a new epoch, it was as 
 serted that politics and religion, as well as nature and 
 art, spiritualize themselves through the ages. Politics 
 and religion were called the body and soul of life. This 
 expression, then used as metaphor, is here to be con 
 sidered a rigorously literal truth. Let us get at the 
 root of the matter. 
 
 i st. In the last analysis, politics has regard only to 
 the physical sense of man ; 2d. In the last analysis, 
 religion has regard only to the spiritual love of man. 
 For, first, politics regards only those new conditions in 
 a man s life resulting from his contact with other men. 
 Now this word " con tact" is itself a proof of the first 
 proposition. Contact is a touching ; contact is only 
 possible through the physical sense ; the communication of 
 spirit with spirit must of necessity be embodied into some 
 physical shape or other. One can receive from his fellow 
 no possible right or wrong which one has not previously 
 seen, heard, tasted, touched, or smelled, in some physical 
 form ; and it is at the moment of this embodiment in 
 physical form, and only at this moment, that politics 
 takes cognizance of wrong. 
 
26 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 i But, secondly, religion regards only the spiritual love 
 of man. " Love " is the term we apply to that peculiar 
 activity which is the province of the soul. And there 
 yet remain many people in the world who do not very 
 clearly distinguish between the signification of soul and 
 of intellect. As between soul and sense, intellect is 
 surely a common ground, so different from either as to 
 be entirely incomparable with them except by some 
 remote symbolization or other. For instance, intellect 
 is a debatable land full of powerful yeomen, who are 
 without predilections or prejudices or loyalties, and who 
 fight indifferently for soul or for sense, as careless 
 whether one or the other as a steel-pen is careless 
 whether truth or falsehood write with it. Such is intel 
 lect : but soul is the radical energy of man, namely, 
 man s love, that strange divinity, in its thousand avatars 
 of love of self and love of one s fellow ; of appetite and 
 disgust ; of desire and aversion ; of faith, or love for the 
 higher; and of charity, or love for the lower. When 
 ever the soul wishes to walk in the open air of the 
 world, intellect, like a Grand Usher, must throw open 
 the door of sense ; and whenever the sense wishes to 
 get into the fine air of the spiritual world, then intel 
 lect, like a Grand Vizier, must present his petition to 
 the Sultan Soul. Here, then, is our old soul-and-sense 
 idea recurring upon us in quite a new form, and 
 suggesting certain relations between politics and reli 
 gion which perhaps have not been clearly noticed by 
 philosophers. t 
 
 In their essential nature, politics and religion are at 
 deadly variance with each other ; and the perfection of 
 either is the annihilation, by merging or by destruction, 
 of the other. Certainly religion, if perfect, would de- 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 27 
 
 stroy politics ; for he who loved all things would injure 
 no thing. N And as surely would politics, if perfect, de 
 stroy religion ; for the absolute confining of men s bad 
 actions to themselves would convert the general soul 
 into an irremediable hell., ^The best politics, therefore, 
 is that which secures the most unlimited intercourse 
 between fellow-men together with the least possible 
 wrong therein ; and the best religion is that which loves 
 all things well and each thing adequately, i And so poli 
 tics, if it have followed the etherealizing course of nature 
 and of art, will be found to have reduced, or at least 
 to be reducing, to that minimum consistent with the 
 least wrong-doing, the purely physical tenures it pos 
 sessed upon men s actions : and these abandoned ten 
 ures will be found to have converted themselves into 
 their spiritual analogues, namely, religious tenures. And 
 religion, if it also have followed the course of nature and 
 art, should be found to have purified itself as far as 
 possible of all physical necessities for its support, and 
 to have largely expanded the range of the objects of 
 man s love. 
 
 Let us see. At intervals, and far more frequently of 
 late days than formerly, there arises in the breasts of men 
 a certain law-breaking temper which appears to be rather 
 an electric instinct than any intellectual persuasion, and 
 which busies itself in shivering to pieces all sorts of 
 political restrictions. It never stops short of the thing 
 demanded ; and frequently, ignorant of what it does de 
 mand, goes far beyond its original hope. What is this, 
 which is here called the law-breaking temper, except 
 the grand idea of etherealization, descending in some 
 new avatar and dwelling among men, whereby they find 
 themselves driven straight forward to some high con- 
 
28 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 summation which they do not know at the beginning, 
 which they do not even recognize at the ending till they 
 have drawn breath from the fighting and the labor and 
 wiped their eyes and looked behind them and before 
 them? 
 
 Like the buds in a forest of mulberry-trees, bursting 
 in quick succession and each emitting its own little puff 
 of vapor, have the events of the last fifty years opened 
 about us and sent up clouds towards heaven. ( Until 
 very recently the world had two dark closets of corpses. 
 They were China and Japan. Now, curious commerce, 
 like Blue-Beard s last wife, has thrust her sweet face in 
 at their door, though forbidden to do so upon peril of 
 her life. In Russia the serfs have been freed. Ger 
 many, once said Richter, has for a long time been the 
 Bois de Boulogne of Europe, to which, whenever two 
 powers became angry, they immediately repaired in order 
 to fight out their terrific duel on its sward. But Count 
 Bismarck has changed all that ; and if Count Bismarck is 
 a tyrant, he is surely not such a tyrant as two mad nations 
 inflamed by war; which last is itself a greater tyrant 
 than all others. In France, the revolution has burst and 
 liberated its cloud. In England, John Bright is forcing 
 his mulberry- bud, and it will open ; violently, if a more 
 skilful arboriculturist be not put in charge. In South 
 America the lately-created republics continue to perfect 
 themselves. In Mexico, President Juarez astonishes the 
 world by subduing a coalition of church prerogative and 
 foreign tyranny which at first seemed irresistible. In 
 the Southern portion of the United States, the last five 
 years have witnessed the extinction of negro slavery. 
 In Brazil, the Emperor has set free the slaves of the 
 Government. While this is written the Chinese insur- 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 29 
 
 gents make headway, and the Christian rebels in Candia 
 defeat the Turks, j 
 
 But there are some circumstances attendant upon the 
 conclusion of the late war in the United States which 
 notably exhibit how many physical bonds of restraint 
 politics has found itself able to dispense with in these 
 later days. At the close of that war, three armies which 
 had been fighting on the Southern side, and which num 
 bered probably forty thousand men, were disbanded. 
 These men had for four years been subjected to the un 
 familiar and galling restrictions of military discipline, and 
 to the most maddening privations. The exigencies of 
 unsuccessful combat had wholly deprived them of any 
 means of subsistence beyond what was available through 
 manual labor. At the same time, four millions of slaves, 
 without provisions and without prospect of labor in a 
 land where employers were impoverished, were liberated. 
 " Half a man s virtue," says Dr. Arnold, " is gone when 
 he becomes a slave ; and the other half goes when he 
 becomes a slave broken loose" The reign of law, at 
 this thrilling time, was at an end. The civil powers of 
 the States were dead. The military power of the con 
 querors was not yet organized for civil purposes. The 
 railroad and the telegraph, those most efficient sheriffs 
 of modern times, had fallen in the shock of war. All 
 possible opportunities presented themselves to each man 
 who chose to injure his neighbor with impunity. The 
 country was sparsely settled, the country roads were 
 intricate, the forests were extensive and dense, the 
 hiding-places were numerous and secure, the witnesses 
 were few and ignorant, i Never had crime such fair 
 weather for his carnival.; Serious apprehensions had 
 been long entertained by the Southern citizens that in 
 
30 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 the event of a disastrous termination of the war, the 
 whole army would be frenzied to convert itself after dis 
 integration into forty thousand highwaymen, who would 
 take advantage of the annihilation of the civil war to 
 prey upon the numerous unfortunates who would be 
 compelled to travel the country roads on errands neces 
 sitated by the needs of fallen fortunes, by yearnings for 
 long-separated kindred, and by the demands of hard 
 existence. Moreover, the feuds between master and 
 slave, alleged by the Northern parties in the contest to 
 have been long smouldering in the South, would seize 
 this opportunity to flame out and redress themselves. 
 Altogether, regarding humanity from the old point of 
 view, there appeared to many wise citizens a clear pros 
 pect of dwelling in midst of a furious pandemonium for 
 several years after an unfavorable termination of the war. 
 But was this prospect realized ? Where were the high 
 way robberies, the bloody vengeances, the arsons, the 
 rapine, the murders, the outrages, the insults? They 
 were, not anywhere. \ ,With great calmness the soldier 
 cast behind him the memory of all wrongs and hardships 
 and reckless habits of the war, embraced his wife, 
 patched his cabin-roof, and proceeded to mingle the 
 dust of recent battles yet lingering on his feet with the 
 peaceful clods of his cornfield. What restrained these 
 men? Was it fear? The word cannot be spoken. 
 Was he who had breasted the storms of Gettysburg and 
 Perryville to shrink from the puny arm of a civil law 
 that was more powerless than the shrunken muscle of 
 Justice Shallow? And what could the negro fear when 
 his belief and assurance were that a conquering nation 
 stood ready to support him in his wildest demand ? . It 
 was the spirit of the time that brought about these 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 31 
 
 things, i Politics in a couple of hundred years past has 
 learned to dispense with many iron bands wherewith it 
 formerly restrained men from wrong-doing ; and silken 
 bands have taken the places of the iron ones, bands 
 which rather attract men towards the good than rudely 
 repel them from the bad., Many political restraints 
 have been spiritualized into religious ones which appear 
 not upon the statute-books, but are unconscious records 
 on the heart. In the view of philosophy, a thousand 
 Atlantic cables and Pacific Railroads would not have 
 contributed cause for so earnest self-gratulation as was 
 afforded by this one feature in our recent political con 
 vulsion. t Who will find words to express his sorrowful 
 surprise at that total absence of philosophic insight into 
 the age which has resulted in those hundreds of laws 
 recently promulgated by the reigning body in the United 
 States ; laws which, if from no other cause at least from 
 sheer multiplicity, are wholly at variance with the genius 
 of the time and of the people, laws which have resulted 
 in such a mass of crime and hatred and bitterness as 
 even the four terrible years of war had entirely failed to 
 bring about? 1 
 
 ( And so, to return from this digression, politics has 
 really spiritualized itself, has lost many of its physical 
 complexities, and has etherealized. \Let politics now 
 purge itself of war. , This is a material prop. Politics 
 does not need it. v Politics is at variance with the 
 genius of the age until an international court of some 
 sort is established. > Some small but cheerful signs 
 exist that this will be so, and that war will die. It 
 was a strange circumstance that only two days ago 
 The London Times, which has long been a mouth 
 piece through which a people has sounded the 
 
32 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 praise of its pluck, avowed itself uncompromisingly 
 opposed to a war which certainly had more color of 
 right than any war in which England ever engaged, and 
 proceeded to refer not even angrily but only sorrowfully 
 to the taunts which a previous expression of such peace 
 ful opinion had elicited from foreign journals. iAnd in 
 Germany, Richter swears that war is the relic of bar 
 barism. And here and there are the Quakers. ,And 
 perhaps, after two thousand years of coquettish blindness, 
 the world will at length open its eyes and read what 
 Christ said and did anent war. > 
 
 It is time now, lastly, to speak of religion. Here one 
 finds a wonderful etherealizing process. See how the 
 Church has purified itself of the State, for instance. 
 The union of Church and State threw both of them into 
 the falsest of attitudes ; it puffed up the State with a 
 dignity far above its deserving, and it degraded the 
 Church to a station utterly beneath it necessarily, in 
 order to bring them upon common ground, where they 
 might unite. v Any compromise between these two is 
 simply ruinous to both.} And so it is well that the 
 Church has lost, or is losing, all temporal dominions and 
 powers, whether these appear as territorial appanages of 
 a Pope, as livings in the gift of a bishop, as Spanish 
 Inquisitions, as Puritanical burnings of witches, as physical 
 crusades in behalf of whatever religious order. v Every 
 time that religion has shaken itself free of an inquisition, 
 of a persecution, of an intolerance, of any such ma 
 terial irrelevancy, she has signalized the event by rising 
 and floating, and shining splendidly and expanding 
 gloriously, j 
 
 If this theory which has been enunciated be true, if 
 material things constantly tend to spiritualize themselves 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 33 
 
 into analogous forms, then will political changes tend to 
 convert themselves quickly into their spiritual analogues, 
 religious changes. And this, after so much of retrospect, 
 brings me to devote some small space to prospect. 
 
 The French revolution, along with a thousand spiritual 
 changes, exhibits a " Vie de Je"sus ;" the English revolution 
 proceeds, accompanied by an "Ecce Homo ;" the Ameri 
 can revolution leaves a religion so unsettled as to be 
 called Mormonism, Free Love, Oneida-ism, Spiritual 
 ism, English Church Catholicism, and a thousand other 
 names denoting a thousand other disintegrated parts 
 of the Church. What do these things, as events so 
 small, as indications so great, signify ? Are they not the 
 little hissing lightnings out of a great and as yet unseen 
 cloud ? Vln a word, as the era just now closed was an 
 era of political revolution, will not the era just now open 
 ing be an era of religious revolution ? , ) 
 
 1867. 
 
34 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 II 
 
 San Antonio de Bexar 
 
 \ IF peculiarities were quills, San Antonio de Bexar 
 would be a rare porcupine. / Over all the round of 
 aspects in which a thoughtful mind may view a city, it 
 bristles with striking idiosyncrasies and bizarre contrasts. 
 Its history, population, climate, location, architecture, 
 soil, water, customs, costumes, horses, cattle, all attract 
 the stranger s attention, either by force of intrinsic singu 
 larity or of odd juxtapositions. It was a puling infant 
 for a century and a quarter, yet has grown to a pretty 
 vigorous youth in a quarter of a century ; its inhabitants 
 are so varied that the "go slow" directions over its 
 bridges are printed in three languages, and the religious 
 services in its churches held in four ; the thermometer, 
 the barometer, the vane, the hygrometer, oscillate so 
 rapidly, so frequently, so lawlessly, and through so wide 
 a meteorological range, that the climate is simply 
 indescribable, yet it is a growing resort for consumptives ; 
 it stands with all its gay prosperity just in the edge of a 
 lonesome, untilled belt of land one hundred and fifty 
 miles wide, like Mardi Gras on the austere brink of 
 Lent; it has no Sunday laws, and that day finds its 
 bar-rooms and billiard- saloons as freely open and as 
 fully attended as its churches ; its buildings, ranging 
 from the Mexican jacal to the San Fernando Cathedral, 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 35 
 
 represent all the progressive stages of man s architectural 
 progress in edifices of mud, of wood, of stone, of 
 iron, and of sundry combinations of those materials ; 
 its soil is in wet weather an inky-black cement, but in 
 dry a floury- white powder ; it is built along both banks 
 of two limpid streams, yet it drinks rain-water collected 
 in cisterns ; its horses and mules are from Lilliput, 
 while its oxen are from Brobdingnag. 
 
 San Antonio de Bexar, Texas, had its birth in 1715. 
 It was, indeed, born before its time, in consequence of 
 a sudden fright into which its mother-Spain was thrown 
 by the menacing activities of certain Frenchmen, who, 
 upon other occasions besides this one, were in those 
 days very much what immortal Mrs. Gamp has declared 
 to Mrs. Harris " these steam-ingines is in our business," 
 a frequent cause of the premature development of pro 
 jects. For Spain had not intended to allow any settle 
 ments, as yet, in that part of her province of the New 
 Philippines which embraced what is now called Texas. 
 In the then situation of her affairs, this policy was not 
 without some reasons to support it. She had valuable 
 possessions in New Mexico : between these possessions 
 and the French settlements to the eastward, intervened 
 an enormous breadth of country, whose obstacles against 
 intruders, appalling enough in themselves, were yet 
 magnified by the shadowy terrors that haunt an un 
 known land. Why not fortify her New Mexican silver- 
 mines with these sextuple barriers, droughts, deserts, 
 mountains, rivers, savages, and nameless fears? Surely, 
 if inclosure could be made impregnable, this would 
 seem to be so ; and accordingly the Spanish Government 
 had finally determined, in 1694, not to revive the feeble 
 posts and missions which had been established four 
 
36 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 years previously with a view to make head against the 
 expedition of La Salle, but which had been abandoned 
 already by soldier and friar, in consequence of the want 
 of food and the ferocity of the savages. 
 
 But in 1 71 2, Anthony Crozat, an enterprising French 
 merchant, obtained from Louis XIV. a conditional grant 
 to the whole of the French province of Louisiana. Cro 
 zat believed that a lucrative trade might be established 
 with the northeastern provinces of Mexico, and that 
 mines might exist in his territory. To test these beliefs, 
 young Huchereau St. Denis, acting under instructions from 
 Cadillac, who had been appointed Governor of Louisiana 
 by Crozat s influence, started westward, left a nucleus of 
 a settlement at Natchitoches, and proceeded across the 
 country to the Rio Grande, where his explorations, after 
 romantic adventures too numerous to be related here, 
 came to an inglorious suspension with his seizure and 
 imprisonment by the Spanish vice-regal authorities in 
 Mexico. 
 
 It was this expedition which produced the premature 
 result hereinbefore alluded to. Spain saw that instead 
 of surrounding New Mexico with inhospitable wastes 
 and ferocious savages, she was in reality but leaving 
 France free to occupy whatever coigns of vantage might 
 be found in that prodigious Debatable Land, which was 
 claimed by both and was held by neither. 
 
 Perhaps this consideration was heightened by Spain s 
 consciousness that the flimsiness of her title to that part 
 of the " New Philippines " which lay east of the Rio 
 Grande really required an actual occupation in order to 
 bolster it up. Pretty much all that she could prove in 
 support of her claim was, that in 1494 Pope Alexander 
 VI., acting as arbitrator between Portugal and Spain, 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 37 
 
 had assigned to the latter all of the American possessions 
 that lay west of a meridian running three hundred and 
 seventy miles west of the Azores ; that De Leon, De 
 Ayllon, De Narvaez, and De Soto, in voyages made 
 between the years 1512 and 1538, had sailed from Cape 
 Florida to Cape Catorce ; and that Philip II. had de 
 nounced the penalty of extermination against any 
 foreigner who should enter the Gulf of Mexico or any of 
 the lands bordering thereupon. 
 
 These were, to say the least, but indefinite muni 
 ments of title ; and to them France could oppose the 
 unquestionable fact that La Salle had coasted the shore 
 of Texas westward to Corpus Christi inlet, had returned 
 along the same route, had explored bays and rivers and 
 named them, and had finally built Fort St. Louis on the 
 Lavaca River in 1685. Here now, in 1714, to crown all, 
 was the daring young Lord Huchereau St. Denis travers 
 ing the whole land from Natchitoches to the Rio 
 Grande, and thrusting in his audacious face like an 
 apparition of energy upon the sleepy routines of post- 
 life and mission-life at San Juan Bautista. 
 
 This was alarming; and in 1715 the Duke of 
 Linares, Viceroy of Mexico, despatched Don Domingo 
 Ramon to Texas with a party of troops and some Fran 
 ciscan friars, to take steps for the permanent occupation 
 of the country. Ramon established several forts and 
 missions ; among others he located a fort, or presidio 
 (Spanish, "a garrison"), on the western bank of the 
 San Pedro River, a small stream flowing through the 
 western suburbs of the present city of San Antonio de 
 Bexar, about three fourths of a mile from the present 
 Main Plaza. This presidio was called San Antonio de 
 Valero. In May, 1718, certain Alcantarine Franciscans, 
 
38 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 of the College of Queretaro, established a mission 
 under the protection of the presidio, calling it by the 
 same invocation, San Antonio de Valero. It was this 
 mission whose Church of the Alamo afterwards shed so 
 red a glory upon the Texan revolution. It had been 
 founded fifteen years before, in the valley of the Rio 
 Grande, under the invocation of San Francisco Solano ; 
 had been removed to San Ildefonso in 1708, and again 
 removed back to the Rio Grande in 1710 under the 
 new invocation of San Jose. It had not indeed yet 
 reached the end of its wanderings. In 1722, both the 
 presidio and mission of San Antonio de Valero were 
 removed to what is now known as the Military Plaza, 
 and a permanent system of improvements begun. 
 
 Here then, with sword and crozier, Spain set to work 
 at once to reduce her wild claim into possession, and to 
 fulfil the condition upon which Pope Alexander had 
 granted her the country of christianizing its natives. 
 One cannot but lean one s head on one s hand to dream 
 out, for a moment, this old Military Plaza most singu 
 lar spot on the wide expanse of the lonesome Texan 
 prairies as it was a hundred and fifty years ago. The 
 rude buildings, the church, the hospital, the soldiers 
 dwellings, the brethren s lodgings, the huts for the con 
 verted Indians (Yndios Reducidos} stand ranged about 
 the large level quadrangle, so placed upon the same 
 theory of protection which "parks " the wagon-train that 
 will camp this night on the plains. Ah, here they come, 
 the inhabitants of San Antonio, from the church-door; 
 vespers is over; the big-thighed, bow-legged, horse- 
 riding Apache steps forth, slowly, for he is yet in a maze 
 the burning candles, the shrine, the genuflexions, the 
 chants, are all yet whirling in his memory ; the lazy 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 39 
 
 soldier slouches by, leering at him, yet observing a cer 
 tain care not to be seen therein, for Senor Soldado is not 
 wholly free from fear of this great-thewed Senor Apache ; 
 the soldiers wives, the squaws, the catechumens, the 
 children, all wend their ways across the plaza. Here 
 advances Brother Juan, bare-footed, in a gown of serge, 
 with his knotted scourge a-dangle from his girdle ; he 
 accosts the Indian, he draws him on to talk of Manitou, 
 his grave pale face grows intense and his forehead 
 wrinkles as he spurs his brain on to the devising of argu 
 ments that will convince this wild soul before him of the 
 fact of the God of Adam, of Peter, and of Francis. 
 Yonder is a crowd : alas, it is stout Brother Antonio,, 
 laying shrewd stripes with unsparing arm upon the back 
 of a young Indian so hard to convince these dusky 
 youths and maidens of the wide range and ramifications 
 of that commandment which they seem most prone to 
 break. Ha ! there behind the church, if you look, goes 
 on another flagellation : Brother Francis has crept back 
 there, slipped his woollen gown from his shoulders, and 
 fallen to with his knotted scourge upon his own bare 
 back, for that a quick vision did, by instigation of the 
 devil, cross his mind even in the very midst of vespers, 
 a vision of a certain senorita as his wife, of a warm 
 all-day sunned hacienda, of children playing, of fruits, of 
 friends, of laughter " O blessed St. Francis of Assisi, 
 fend off Sathanas ! " he cries, and raises a heavier welt. 
 
 Presently, as evening draws on, the Indians hold 
 meetings, males in one place, females in another ; recit 
 ing prayers, singing canticles. Finally it is bed-time ; 
 honest Brother Antonio goes round and locks the ui> 
 married young male Indians into their sleeping apart 
 ments on one side, the maidens on the other side into 
 
40 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 theirs, casts a glance mayhap towards Mexico, breathes 
 a prayer, gets him to his pallet, and the Plaza of San 
 Antonio de Valero is left in company of the still sentinel, 
 the stream of the San Pedro purling on one side, that of 
 the San Antonio whispering on the other, under the 
 quiet stars, midst of the solemn prairie, in whose long 
 grass yonder (by all odds) crouches some keen-eyed 
 Apache bravo, 1 who has taken a fancy that he will ride 
 Don Ramon s charger. 
 
 The infant settlement soon begins to serve in that 
 capacity which gives it a " bad eminence " among the 
 other Texan settlements for the next hundred years : to 
 wit, as the point to which, or from which, armies are 
 retreating or advancing, or in which armies are fighting. 
 Already, in 1719, before the removal to the Military 
 Plaza, the scenes of war have been transacting them 
 selves in the young San Antonio de Valero. On a 
 certain day in the spring of that year, the peaceful 
 people are astonished to behold all their Spanish brethren 
 who belong to the settlements eastward of theirs, come 
 crowding into the town : monks, soldiers, women, and 
 all. In the confusion they quickly learn that in the 
 latter part of the year before, France has declared war 
 against Spain ; that the Frenchmen at Natchitoches, as 
 soon as they have heard the news, have rushed to arms 
 with Gallic impetuosity, and led by La Harpe and St. 
 Denis, have advanced westward, have put to flight all 
 the Spanish at Adaes, at Orquizaco, at Aes, and at 
 Nacogdoches ; and that these are they who are here 
 now, disturbing the peaceful mission with unwonted 
 sights and sounds, and stretching its slender hospitalities 
 to repletion. The French do not attack, however, but 
 1 Sp. Yndios Bravos : unconverted Indians. 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 41 
 
 return towards Natchitoches. In a short time enter 
 from the opposite side of the stage, that is to say from 
 Mexico, the Marquis de Aguayo, Governor-General of 
 New Estremadura and the New Philippines, with five 
 hundred mounted men. These march through, take 
 with them the men of Orquizaco, of Adaes and Acs, re 
 establish those settlements, and pursue the French until 
 they hear that the latter are in Natchitoches ; De Aguayo 
 then returns to San Antonio and sets on foot plans for 
 its permanent improvement. 
 
 About this time occurs a short and spicy correspond 
 ence, which for the first time probably announces the 
 name of the State of Texas, and which explicitly broaches 
 a dispute that is to last for many a year. The Spanish 
 Viceroy in Mexico appoints Don Martin D Alarconne 
 Governor of Texas. Soon afterwards La Harpe leaves 
 the French post of Natchitoches and busies himself in 
 advancing the French interests among the Nassonite x 
 Indians. In beginning this enterprise La Harpe sends 
 "a polite message " to the Spanish Governor, who there 
 upon writes : 
 
 MONSIEUR, I am very sensible of the politeness that 
 M. de Bienville and yourself have had the goodness to show 
 to me. The orders I have received from the King my 
 master are to maintain a good understanding with the 
 French of Louisiana ; my own inclinations lead me equally 
 to afford them all the services that depend upon me. But 
 1 am compelled to say that your arrival at the Nassonite 
 village surprises me much. Your Governor could not be 
 ignorant that the post you occupy belongs to my govern 
 ment, and that all the lands west of the Nassonites depend 
 
 1 A tribe, or set of tribes, whose seat of government seems to 
 have been a village called Texas, on the east bank of the Neches 
 River. 
 
42 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 upon New Mexico. I counsel you to inform M. Bienville 
 of this, or you will force me to oblige you to abandon lands 
 that the French have no right to occupy. I have the honor, 
 etc. D ALARCONNE. 
 
 TRINITY RIVER, May 20, 1719. 
 
 To this La Harpe makes reply : 
 
 MONSIEUR, The order from his Catholic Majesty to 
 maintain a good understanding with the French of Louisiana, 
 and the kind intentions you have yourself expressed towards 
 them, accord but little with your proceedings. Permit me 
 to apprise you that M. de Bienville is perfectly informed of 
 the limits of his government, and is very certain that the post 
 of Nassonite does not depend upon the dominions of his Cath 
 olic Majesty. He knows also that the Province of Lastekas, 1 
 of which you say you are Governor, is a part of Louisiana. 
 M. de la Salle took possession in 1685, in the name of his 
 Most Christian Majesty, and since the above epoch posses 
 sion has been renewed from time to time. Respecting the 
 post of Nassonite, I cannot comprehend by what right you 
 pretend that it forms a part of New Mexico. I beg leave to 
 represent to you that Don Antonio de Minoir, who discov 
 ered New Mexico in 1683, never penetrated east of that 
 province or the Rio Bravo. It was the French who first 
 made alliances with the savage tribes in this region, and it 
 is natural to conclude that a river that flows into the Mis 
 sissippi and the lands it waters belong to the King my master. 
 If you will do me the pleasure to come into this quarter I 
 will convince you I hold a post I know how to defend. 
 I have the honor, etc., 
 
 DE LA HARPE. 
 NASSONITE, July 8th, 1719. 
 
 1 Lastekas, /. e. Las Tekas : Texas. The Frenchmen in those 
 days appear to have great difficulty in inventing orthographies 
 for these odious Indian names. The Choctaws, for instance, ap 
 pear in the documents of the time as " Tchactas," the Chickasaws 
 as " Chicachats," the Cherokees as " Cheraquis," and they can get 
 no nearer to " Camanches " than "Choumans," or "Cannensis"! 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 
 
 43 
 
 For several years after the permanent location round 
 the Military Plaza, no important events seem to be 
 recorded as happening in San Antonio ; but the quiet 
 work of post and mission goes on, and the probable 
 talk on the Plaza is of the three new missions which De 
 Aguayo establishes on the San Antonio River, below the 
 town, under the protection of its garrison ; or of the 
 tales which come slowly floating from the northward 
 concerning the dreadful fate of a Spanish expedition 
 which has been sent to attack the French settlements on 
 the Upper Mississippi, and which, mistaking the hostile 
 Missouris on the way for friendly Osages, distributes 
 fifteen hundred muskets, together with sabres and 
 pistols, to the said Missouris to be used against the French, 
 whereupon the Missouris next morning at day-break fall 
 upon the unsuspecting Spaniards, butcher them all (save 
 the priest, whom they keep for a " magpie," as they call 
 him, to laugh at), and march off into the French fort 
 arrayed in great spoils, their chief wearing the chasuble 
 and bearing the paten before him for a breastplate ; or 
 of Governor De Aguayo s recommendation to the home 
 government to send colonists instead of soldiers if it 
 would help the friars to win the Indians ; or of the 
 appointment of a separate governor for Texas in 1727 ; 
 or of the withdrawal of ten soldiers in 1729, leaving only 
 forty- three in garrison at San Antonio. About 1731, 
 however, an important addition is made to the town. 
 Under the auspices of the home government which 
 seems to have accepted De Aguayo s^ ideas thirteen 
 families and two single men arrive, pure Spaniards from 
 the Canary Islands, also some Tlascalans, and a party 
 from Monterey. These set to work around a Plaza (the 
 " Plaza of the Constitution," or " Main Plaza ") just 
 
44 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 eastward of and adjoining the Military Plaza, and com 
 mence a town which they call San Fernando. They are 
 led, it seems, to this location by the same facility of 
 irrigation which had recommended the Military Plaza to 
 their neighbors. The new colonists impart vigor to 
 affairs. The missions prosper, Indians are captured 
 and brought in to be civilized whether or no, and on 
 the 5th of March, 1731, the foundation is laid of the 
 Mission of La Purisima Conception de Acuna, on the 
 San Antonio River, a mile or so below the town. 
 
 Meantime a serious conspiracy against the welfare of 
 San Antonio and San Fernando is hatched in the north 
 east. The Natchez Indians wish to revenge themselves 
 upon the French, who have driven them from their home 
 on the Mississippi. They resolve to attack St. Denis at 
 Natchitoches, and to prevent the Spaniards from helping 
 him (the French and Spanish are now friends, having 
 united against England), they procure the Apaches to 
 assail San Antonio. St. Denis, however, surprises and 
 defeats the Natchez ; and the Apaches appear to have 
 made no organized attack, but to have confined them 
 selves to murdering and thieving in parties. These 
 Apaches, indeed, were dreadful scourges in these days 
 to San Antonio and its environs. The people of the 
 presidio of San Fernando and of the missions on the 
 river complained repeatedly (says the Testimonio de un 
 Parecer 1 in the archives of Bexar) that they cannot 
 expand (sin poder estenderse) on account of " las fre- 
 quienttes hosttilidades que experimenttan de los Yndios 
 Apaches" This great tribe had headquarters about the 
 Pass of Bandera, some fifty miles to the northwestward, 
 
 1 Testimony of a witness: this document is hereinafter 
 described. 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 45 
 
 from which they forayed, not only up to Antonio, but 
 even as far as to Coahuila. Moreover, they manage 
 (says the Testimonio*} horses, firearms, and arrows con 
 mucha desttreza y agilidad. Finally the men of San 
 Antonio and San Fernando get tired of it, and after 
 some minor counter- forays, they organize an expedition 
 in 1732 which conquers comparative peace from the 
 Apaches for a few years. 
 
 Nothing of special interest is recorded as happening 
 in San Antonio from this time until 1736. In Septem 
 ber of that year arrives Don Carlos de Franquis, who 
 immediately proceeds to throw the town into a very 
 pretty ferment. Franquis had come out from Spain to 
 Mexico to be Governor of Tlascala. On arriving, he 
 finds that some one else is already Governor of Tlascala. 
 Vizarron, Archbishop of Mexico, and acting Viceroy since 
 Casa Fuerte s death, disposes of him it is likely he 
 made trouble enough till that was done by sending 
 him off to Texas to supersede Governor Sandoval, a fine 
 old veteran, who has been for two years governing the 
 Province with such soldierly fidelity as has won him great 
 favor among the inhabitants. Franquis begins by insult 
 ing the priests, and follows this up with breaking open 
 people s letters. Presently he arrests Sandoval, has him 
 chained, and causes criminal proceedings to be com 
 menced against him, charging him with treacherous 
 complicity in certain movements of St. Denis at Natchi- 
 toches. It seems that St. Denis, having found a higher 
 and drier location, has removed his garrison and the 
 French Mission of St. -John the Baptist some miles fur 
 ther from Red River towards the Texas territory, and 
 built a new fort and settlements ; that Sandoval, hearing 
 of it, has promptly called him to account as an intruder 
 
46 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 on Spanish ground ; and that a correspondence has 
 ensued between St. Denis and Sandoval, urging the rights 
 of their respective governments in the premises, which 
 has just been brought to the point of a flat issue upon 
 which to go to the jury of war when Sandoval is ousted 
 by Franquis. The Viceroy sends the Governor of New 
 Leon to investigate the trouble ; and the famous lawsuit 
 of Franquis versus Sandoval is fairly commenced. The 
 Governor of New Leon seems to find against Franquis, 
 who is sent back to the presidio on the Rio Grande. 
 He gets away, however, and off to the Viceroy. But 
 Sandoval is not satisfied, naturally, for he has been 
 mulcted in some three thousand four hundred dollars, 
 costs of the investigating commission. He pays, and in 
 1738 files his petition against Franquis for redress of his 
 injuries. Franquis, thus attacked in turn, strengthens 
 his position with a new line of accusations. He now, 
 besides the French business, charges Sandoval with living 
 at San Antonio instead of at Adaes, the official residence ; 
 with being irregular in his accounts with the San Antonio 
 garrison ; and with peculation in the matter of the sala 
 ries of certain paid missionaries, whom Sandoval is 
 alleged to have discharged and then pocketed their sti 
 pends. The papers go to the Viceroy, and from the 
 Viceroy to Attorney-General Vedoya. In 1740 Vedoya 
 decides Sandoval guilty of living at San Antonio, though it 
 was his duty to be there to defend it against the Apaches ; 
 guilty of irregular book-keeping, though through memo 
 randa it is found that there is a balance in his favor of 
 thirteen hundred dollars ; not guilty of stealing the mis 
 sionary money. Upon the French matter Vedoya will 
 not decide without further evidence. With poor San 
 doval it is pay again ; he is fined five hundred dollars 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 47 
 
 for his "guilt." Meantime, some months afterward, an 
 order is made that testimony be taken in Texas with 
 regard to the French affair, said testimony to embrace 
 an account of pretty much everything in, about, and 
 concerning Texas. The testimony being taken and 
 returned, the Attorney-General, in November, 1741, 
 entirely acquits Sandoval. But alas for the stout old 
 soldier ! this is in Mexico, where from of old, if one is 
 asked who rules now, one must reply with the circum 
 spection of that Georgia judge, who, being asked the 
 politics of his son, made answer that he knew not, not 
 having seen the creature since breakfast. Vizarron has 
 gone out ; the Duke de la Conquista has come into the 
 Viceroyalty ; and Sandoval has hardly had time to taste 
 his hard-earned triumph before, through machinations of 
 Franquis, he finds himself in prison by order of the new 
 Viceroy. Finally, however, the rule works the other way ; 
 in December, 1743, a new Viceroy, Count Fuenclara, 
 gets hold of the papers in the case, acquits Sandoval, and 
 enjoins Franquis from proceeding further in the matter. 
 
 It was in the course of this litigation a copy of the 
 proceedings in which, " filling thirty volumes of manu 
 script," was transmitted to Spain that the old document 
 hereinbefore referred to as the Testimonio de un Parecer 
 had its origin. In this paper San Antonio is called San 
 Antonio de Vejar 6 Valero, Vejar being the Spanish or 
 thography of the Mexican Bexar (pronounced Vay-har). 
 This name, San Antonio de Bexar, seems to have attached 
 itself particularly to the military post, or presidio; its 
 origin is not known. The town of San Fernando was 
 still so called at this time ; and the town and mission of 
 San Antonio de Valero bore that name. In 1744 this 
 latter extended itself to the eastward, or rather the 
 
48 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 extension had probably gone on before that time and 
 was only evidenced then. At any rate, on the 8th of 
 May, 1744, the first stone of the present Church of the 
 Alamo was laid and blessed. The site of this church 
 is nearly a quarter of a mile to the eastward of the Mili 
 tary Plaza, where the mission to which it belonged had 
 been located in 1722. From an old record-book pur 
 porting to contain the baptisms in " the Parish of the 
 Pueblo of San Jose del Alamo" it would seem that there 
 must have been also a settlement of that name. San 
 Antonio de Bexar, therefore the modern city 
 seems to be a consolidation of the presidio of San 
 Antonio de Bexar, the mission and pueblo (or villa) of 
 San Antonio de Valero, and the pueblos of San Fernando 
 and San Jose del Alamo. 
 
 For the next forty years after the foundation of the 
 Alamo in 1744, the colonists and missionaries seem to 
 have pursued the ordinary round of their labors without 
 unusual events; in point of material prosperity San 
 Antonio seems to have led but a struggling existence. 
 Yoakum 1 estimates the whole European population of 
 Texas in 1744 to have been fifteen hundred, which, 
 together with about the same number of converted 
 Indians, "was divided mostly between Adaes and San 
 Antonio." The same author again 2 estimates the popu 
 lation of Adaes and San Antonio in 1765 to have been 
 " hardly five hundred " Europeans, besides converted 
 Indians, of whom he adds that there were only about 
 seven hundred and fifty in the whole province of Texas. 
 It was impossible indeed during these years that any 
 legitimate prosperity could have been attained. Up to 
 
 1 History of Texas, vol. i., p. 87. 
 
 2 Vol. i., p. 97. 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 49 
 
 the year 1762, when France, to save Louisiana from the 
 clutches of England, ceded it to Spain, trade had been 
 prohibited by the latter between her Texan colonists 
 and the French settlers in Louisiana, though some inter 
 course always went on in a smuggling way between the 
 two, whenever they could get a Spanish official to wink 
 his eye or turn his back ; and even after the cession of 
 Louisiana matters were little better in point of commer 
 cial activity. There were also restrictions even upon the 
 agricultural energies of the colonists ; they were, it is 
 said, prohibited from cultivating the vine and the olive, 
 and also from the manufacture of many articles. In 
 deed, the immediate necessity of settlements having 
 passed away with the removal of the danger of French 
 occupation, the old policy of Spain seems to have been 
 resumed in full force, that of keeping her provinces 
 around New Mexico and Mexico impenetrable wastes, as 
 barriers against enterprising neighbors. 
 
 Nor was the spiritual prosperity much greater. The 
 arduous toils and sublime devotions of the Franciscan 
 brethren bore but moderate fruit. Father Marest had 
 declared in 1712 that the conversion of the Indians was 
 " a miracle of the Lord s mercy," and that it was " neces 
 sary first to transform them into men, and afterward to 
 labor to make them Christians." These noble brothers 
 too had reason to believe in the inhumanity of the In 
 dians. They could remember the San Saba Mission, 
 where, in 1758, the Indians had fallen upon the people 
 and massacred every human being, lay and clerical ; and 
 here, in 1785, they could see for themselves the com 
 pany of San Carlos de Parras driven by the fierce Ca- 
 manches to place their quarters within the enclosure of 
 the Alamo. 
 
 4 
 
50 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 In 1783-5 San Antonio de Valero ceased to be a mis 
 sion. For some reason it had become customary to 
 send whatever captive Indians were brought in to the 
 missions below the town for christianization. The town, 
 however, which had been built up about the mission 
 buildings, remained, having a separate alcalde, and an 
 organization politically and religiously distinct from that 
 of San Antonio de Bexar and San Fernando for some 
 years longer. In 1790 the population around the Alamo 
 was increased by the addition of the people from the 
 Presidio de los Adaes ; this post was abandoned, and its 
 inhabitants were provided with lands which had been 
 the property of the mission of San Antonio de Valero, 
 lying in the neighborhood of the Alamo, to the north. 
 "The upper labor 1 of the Alamo," says Mr. Giraud, the 
 present mayor of the city, in an interesting note which 
 constitutes Appendix iv. of Yoakum s History of Texas, 
 "... is still commonly called by the old inhabitants the 
 labor de los Adaesenos" These mission lands about the 
 Alamo seem to have ceased to be such about this time, 
 and to have been divided off to the mission-people, each 
 of whom received a portion, with fee-simple title. In 
 1793 the distinct religious organization of the Mission of 
 San Antonio de Valero terminated, and it was aggregated 
 to the curacy of the town of San Fernando and the pre 
 sidio of San Antonio de Bexar ; as appears by the fol 
 lowing note which is found on the last page of an old 
 record-book of baptisms in the archives of Bexar : 
 
 On the 22d day of August, 1793, I passed this book of 
 the records of the pueblo of San Antonio de Valero to the 
 archives of the curacy of the town of San Fernando and 
 
 1 Labor: a Spanish land-measure of about one hundred and 
 seventy-seven acres. 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 51 
 
 presidio of San Antonio de Bexar, by order of the most 
 illustrious Sefior Dr. Don Andres de Llanos y Valdez, most 
 worthy bishop of this diocese, dated January 2d, of the same 
 year, by reason of said pueblo having been aggregated to the 
 curacy of Bexar ; and that it may be known, I sign it. 
 
 FR. Jos FRANCISCO LOPEZ, Parroco. 
 
 In the year 1800 San Antonio began to see a new 
 sort of prisoners brought in. Instead of captive Indians, 
 here arrived a party of eleven Americans J in irons, who 
 were the remainder of a company with which Philip 
 Nolan, a trader between Natchez and San Antonio, had 
 started out, and who, after a sharp fight with one hun 
 dred and fifty Spanish soldiers, in which Nolan was killed, 
 had been first induced to return to Nacogdoches, and there 
 were treacherously manacled and sent to prison at San 
 Antonio. Again, in 1805, three Americans are brought 
 in under guard. In this year, too, matters begin to be 
 a little more lively in the town. Spain s neighbor on 
 the east is not now France; for in 1803 Louisiana has 
 been formally transferred to the United States. There 
 is already trouble with the latter about the boundary line 
 betwixt Louisiana and Texas. Don Antonio Cordero, 
 the new Governor of Texas, has brought on a lot of troops 
 through the town, and fixed his official residence here ; 
 and troops continue to march through en route to Natchi- 
 toches, where the American General Wilkinson is men 
 acing the border. Again, in 1807, Lieutenant Zebulon 
 M. Pike, of the United States army, passes through town 
 in charge of an escort. Lieutenant Pike has been sent 
 to explore the Arkansas and Red rivers, and to treat 
 
 3 Americans, / . e. United States people ; in which sense, to 
 avoid the awkwardness of the only other equivalent terms, I shall 
 hereafter use the word. 
 
 3 
 
52 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 with the Camanches, has been apprehended by the Span 
 ish authorities in New Mexico, carried to Santa Fe, and 
 is now being escorted home. 
 
 At this time there are four hundred troops in San 
 Antonio, in quarters near the Alamo. Besides these, the 
 town has about two thousand inhabitants, mostly Span 
 iards and Creoles, the remainder Frenchmen, Americans, 
 civilized Indians, and half-breeds. New settlers have 
 come in; and what with army officers, the Governor s 
 people, the clergy, and prominent citizens, society be 
 gins to form and to enjoy itself. The Governor, Father 
 McGuire, Colonel Delgado, Captain Ugarte, Doctor Zer- 
 bin, dispense hospitalities and adorn social meetings. 
 There are, in the evenings, levees at the Governor s ; 
 sometimes Mexican dances on the Plaza, at which all 
 assist ; and frequent and prolonged card-parties. 
 
 But these peaceful scenes do not last long. In 1811 
 the passers across the San Antonio River between the 
 Alamo and the Main Plaza behold a strange sight : it is 
 the head of a man stuck on a pole, there, in bloody 
 menace against rebels. This head but yesterday was 
 on the shoulders of Colonel Delgado, a flying adherent 
 of Hidalgo in Mexico : Hidalgo, initiator of how long a 
 train of Mexican revolutions ! having been also put to 
 death in Chihuahua. It was not long before this blood 
 was (as from of old) washed out with other blood. Ber 
 nardo Gutierrez, a fellow-rebel of the unfortunate Delgado, 
 escaped to Natchitoches, and met young Magee, an offi 
 cer of the United States army. In a short time the two 
 had assembled a mixed force of American adventurers 
 and rebellious Mexican republicans, had driven the Span 
 ish troops from Nacogdoches, marched into Texas, cap 
 tured the fort and supplies at La Bahia, enlisted its 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 
 
 53 
 
 garrison, and sustained a siege there which the enemy 
 was finally compelled to abandon with loss. It was in 
 March, 1813, that the Spanish besieging force set out 
 on its retreat up the river to San Antonio. Gutierrez 
 Magee having committed suicide in consequence of mor 
 tification at the indignant refusal of the troops to accept 
 a surrender which he had negotiated soon after the be 
 ginning of the siege determined to pursue. On the 
 28th of March he crossed the Salado, en route to San 
 Antonio, with a force consisting of eight hundred Amer 
 icans under Colonel Kemper, one hundred and eighty 
 Mexicans led by Manchaco, 1 under Colonel James Gaines, 
 three hundred Lipan and Twowokana Indians, and twen 
 ty-five Cooshattie Indians. Marching along the bank 
 of the San Antonio River, with the left flank protected 
 by the stream, this motley army arrived within nine 
 miles of San Antonio, when the riflemen on the right 
 suddenly discovered the enemy ambushed in the chapar 
 ral on the side of a ridge. Here the whole force that 
 Governor Salcedo could muster had been posted, con 
 sisting of about fifteen hundred regular troops and a 
 thousand militia. To gain time to form, the Indians 
 were ranged to receive the opening charge of the Spanish 
 cavalry ; the enemy meantime having immediately formed 
 along the crest of the ridge, with twelve pieces of artillery 
 in the centre. The Indians broke at the first shock; 
 only the Cooshatties and a few others stood their ground. 
 These received two other charges, in which they lost 
 two killed and several wounded. The Americans had 
 now made their dispositions, and proceeded to execute 
 them with matchless coolness. They charged up the 
 
 1 A prominent Mexican, of Texas, of strong but uncultivated 
 intellect. 
 
54 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 hill, stopped at thirty yards of the enemy s line, fired 
 three rounds, loaded, then charged again, and straight 
 way the slope towards San Antonio was dotted with 
 Spanish fugitives, whom the Indians pursued and butch 
 ered regardless of quarter. The Spanish commander, 
 who had pledged sword and head to Governor Salcedo 
 that he would kill and capture the American army, could 
 not endure the sting of his misfortune. He spurred his 
 horse upon the American ranks, attacked Major Ross, 
 then Colonel Kemper, and while in the act of striking 
 the latter was shot by private William Owen. The Span 
 ish loss is said to have been near a thousand killed and 
 wounded. 
 
 Next day the Americans advanced to the outskirts of 
 San Antonio and demanded a surrender. Governor 
 Salcedo desired to parley, to delay. A second demand 
 was made peremptory. Governor Salcedo then 
 marched out with his staff. He presented his sword 
 to Captain Taylor ; Taylor refused, and referred him to 
 Colonel Kemper. Presenting to Colonel Kemper, he 
 was in turn referred to Gutierrez. No, not to that rebel ! 
 Salcedo thrust his sword into the ground, whence 
 Gutierrez drew it. The victors got stores, arms, and 
 treasure. Seventeen American prisoners in the Alamo 
 were released and armed. The troops were paid, 
 receiving a bonus of fifteen dollars each in addition to 
 wages, clothed and mounted out of the booty. The 
 Indians were not forgotten in the distribution; they 
 "were supplied," says Yoakum, "with two dollars 
 worth of vermilion, together with presents of the value 
 of a hundred and thirty dollars, and sent away re 
 joicing." 
 
 And now flowed the blood that must answer that 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 
 
 55 
 
 which dripped down the pole from poor Colonel Del- 
 gado s head. Shortly after the victory, Captain Delgado, 
 a son of the executed rebel, falls upon his knees before 
 Gutierrez, and demands vengeance upon the prisoner, 
 Governor Salcedo, who apprehended and executed his 
 father. Gutierrez arrays his army, informs them that it 
 would be safe to send Salcedo and staff to New Orleans, 
 and that it so happens that vessels are about to sail for 
 that port from Matagorda Bay. The army consents 
 (we are so fearfully and wonderfully republican in these 
 days : the army consents) that the prisoners be sent off 
 as proposed. Captain Delgado, with a company of 
 Mexicans, starts in charge, ostensibly en route for Mata 
 gorda Bay. There are fifteen of the distinguished cap 
 tives : Governor Salcedo of Texas, Governor Herrera of 
 New Leon, Ex-Governor Cordero, whom we last saw hold 
 ing levees in San Antonio, several Spanish and Mexican 
 officers, and one citizen. Delgado gets his prisoners a 
 mile and a half from town, halts them on the bank of 
 the river, strips them, ties them, and cuts the throat of 
 every man : " some of the assassins," says Colonel 
 Navarro, whetting " their knives upon the soles of their 
 shoes in presence of their victims." 
 
 The town of San Antonio must have been anything 
 but a pleasant place for peaceful citizens during the next 
 two months. Colonel Kemper, who was really the com 
 manding officer of the American army, refused further 
 connection with those who could be guilty of such bar 
 barity, and left, with other American officers. Their 
 departure left in the town an uncontrolled body of 
 troops who feared neither God nor man ; and these 
 immediately proceeded to avail themselves of the situa 
 tion by indulging in all manner of riotous and lawless 
 
56 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 pleasures. With the month of June, however, came 
 Don Elisondo from Mexico with an army of royalists, 
 consisting of about three thousand men, half of whom 
 were regular troops. His advance upon San Antonio 
 seems to have been a complete surprise, and to have 
 been only learned by the undisciplined republican army 
 in the town together with the fact that he had captured 
 their horses, which had been out grazing, and killed part 
 of the guard which was protecting the caballada. If 
 Elisondo had marched straight on into town, his task 
 would probably have been an easy one. But he com 
 mitted the fatal mistake of encamping a short distance 
 from the suburbs, where he threw up two bastions with 
 a curtain between, on a ridge near the river Alozon. 
 
 Meantime the republican army in the town recovered 
 from the confusion into which they had been thrown by 
 the first intelligence of Elisondo s proximity, and organ 
 ized themselves under Gutierrez and Captain Perry. It 
 was determined to anticipate the enemy s attack. In 
 gress and egress were prohibited, the sentinels doubled, 
 and all the cannon spiked except four field-pieces. In 
 the darkness of the night of June 4th the Americans 
 marched quietly out of town, by file, to within hearing 
 of the enemy s pickets, and remained there until the 
 enemy was heard at matins. The signal to charge 
 being given a cheer from the right of companies 
 the Americans advanced, surprised and captured the 
 pickets in front, mounted the enemy s work, lowered 
 his flag and hoisted their own, before they were fairly 
 discovered through the dim dawn. The enemy struggled 
 hard, however, and compelled the Americans to abandon 
 the works. The latter charged again, and this time 
 routed the enemy completely. The royalist loss is said 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 57 
 
 to have been about a thousand in killed, wounded and 
 prisoners ; and that of the Americans, ninety-four killed 
 and mortally wounded. 
 
 For some reason Gutierrez was now dismissed from 
 the leadership of the army (we republican soldiers de 
 capitate our commanders very quickly if they please us 
 not !), and shortly afterwards troops and citizens went 
 forth in grand procession to welcome Don Jose" Alvarez 
 Toledo, a distinguished republican Cuban who had been 
 forwarding recruits from Louisiana to San Antonio ; 
 and having escorted him into town with much cere 
 mony, elected him commander-in-chief of the Republi 
 can Army of the North. Toledo immediately organized a 
 government ; but the people of San Antonio enjoyed the 
 unaccustomed blessing of civil law only a little while. 
 
 In a few days enter, from over the Mexican border, 
 General Arredondo with the remnant of Elisondo s men 
 and some fresh troops, about four thousand in all, en route 
 for San Antonio. Toledo marches out to meet him 
 with about twenty-five hundred men, one third of whom 
 are Americans, the balance Mexicans under Manchaco ; 
 and on the i8th of August, 1813, they come together. 
 Arredondo decoys him into an ingenious cul de sac 
 which he has thrown up just south of the Medina 
 River, and has concealed by cut bushes ; and pours 
 such a murderous fire of cannon and small arms upon 
 him, that in spite of the gallantry of the right wing, 
 where the Americans are, the retreat which Toledo has 
 ordered too late becomes a mere rout, and the republi 
 can army is butchered without mercy. One batch of 
 seventy or eighty fugitives is captured by the pursuing 
 royalists, tied, set by tens upon a log laid across a great 
 grave, and shot ! 
 
58 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 On the 2Oth, Arredondo enters San Antonio in great 
 triumph, and straightway proceeds to wreak fearful ven 
 geance upon the unhappy town for the massacre of his 
 brother governors. Seven hundred citizens are thrown 
 into prison. During the night of the 2Oth eighteen die 
 of suffocation out of three hundred who are confined in 
 one house. These only anticipate the remainder, who 
 are shot, without trial, in detachments. Five hundred 
 republican women are imprisoned in a building on the 
 present site of the post-office, derisively termed the 
 Quinta, and compelled to make up twenty-four bushels 
 of corn into tortillas every day for the royalist army. 
 Having thus sent up a sweet savor of revenge to the 
 spirits of the murdered Salcedo, Cordero, Herrera, and 
 the others, Arredondo finally gathers their bones to 
 gether and buries them. In all this blood the prosperity 
 of San Antonio was drowned. To settlers it offered no 
 inducements ; to most of its former citizens it held out 
 nothing but terror; and it is described as almost en 
 tirely abandoned in 1816. 
 
 In December, 1820, arrived a person in San Antonio 
 who, though not then known as such, was really a har 
 binger of better times. This was Moses Austin, of 
 Connecticut. He came to see Governor Martinez, with 
 a view of bringing a colony to Texas. The two, with 
 the Baron de Bastrof, put in train the preliminary appli 
 cation for permission to Arredondo, Commandant- 
 General at Monterey. Austin, it is true, died soon 
 afterwards ; but he left his project to his son Stephen F., 
 who afterwards carried it out with a patience that 
 amounted to genius and a fortitude that was equivalent 
 to the favor of Heaven. 
 
 On the 24th of August, 1821, Don Juan O Donoju 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 59 
 
 and Iturbide entered into the Treaty of C6rdova, which 
 substantially perfected the separation of Mexico from 
 the mother-country. When the intelligence of this 
 event had spread, the citizens of San Antonio returned. 
 Moreover, about this time a tide of emigration began to 
 set towards Texas. The Americans who had composed 
 part of the army of Gutierrez had circulated fair reports 
 of the country. In 1823 San Antonio is said to have 
 had five thousand inhabitants ; though the Camanches 
 appear still to have had matters all their own way when 
 they came into town, as they frequently did, to buy 
 beads and other articles with skins of deer and buffalo. 
 One would find this difficult to believe, but reasoning 
 a priori, it is rendered probable by the fact that in the 
 decree of the Federal Congress of Mexico of the 24th 
 of August, 1826, to provide for raising troops to serve 
 in Coahuila and Texas as frontier defenders, it is 
 ordered that out of the gross levies there shall be first 
 preferred for military service " los vagos y mal entre- 
 tenidos" vagrant and evil-disposed persons; and a 
 posteriori, it is quite confirmed by the experience of 
 Olmsted in San Fernando (a considerable town west of 
 the Rio Grande) so late as 1854, where he found the 
 Indians " lounging in and out of every house . . . 
 with such an air as indicated they were masters of the 
 town. They entered every door," adds Olmsted, " fell 
 on every neck, patted the women on the cheek, helped 
 themselves to whatever suited their fancy, and dis 
 tributed their scowls or grunts of pleasure according to 
 their sensations." 
 
 In the year 1824 a lot of French merchants passed 
 through San Antonio en route to Santa Fe" on a trading 
 expedition. Some distance from town their pack- 
 
60 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 animals were all stolen by Indians ; but they managed 
 to get carts and oxen from San Antonio, and so con 
 veyed their goods finally to Santa F, where they sold 
 them at an immense profit. In 1831 the Bowie 
 brothers, Rezin P., and James, organized in San Antonio 
 their expedition in search of the old reputed silver 
 mines at San Saba Mission. In the course of this un 
 lucky venture occurred their famous Indian fight, where 
 the two Bowies, with nine others, fought a pitched battle 
 with one hundred and sixty-four Indians who had 
 attacked them with arrow, with rifle, and with fire from 
 sundown to sunset, killing and wounding eighty-four. 
 They then fortified their position during the night, main 
 tained it for eight days afterwards, and finally returned 
 to San Antonio with their horses and three wounded 
 comrades, leaving one man killed. 
 
 It is related that in 1832 a Camanche Indian at 
 tempted to abduct a Shawnee woman in San Antonio. 
 She escaped him, joined a party of her people who were 
 staying some thirty-five miles from town, and informed 
 them where the Camanches (of whom five hundred had 
 been in town for some purpose) would probably camp. 
 The Shawnees ambushed themselves at the spot indi 
 cated. The Camanches came on and stopped as ex 
 pected : the Shawnees poured a fire into them, and 
 repeated it as they continually rallied, until the Caman 
 ches abandoned the contest with a loss of one hundred 
 and seventy-five dead. 
 
 Early in 1833 (or perhaps late in December, 1832) 
 arrives in San Antonio for the first time one who is to be 
 called the father of his country. This is Sam Houston. 
 He comes in company with the famous James Bowie, 
 son-in-law of Vice-Governor Veramendi, and holds a 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 61 
 
 consultation with the Camanche chiefs here to arrange a 
 meeting at Cantonment Gibson with a view to a treaty 
 of peace. Meantime trouble is brewing. Young Texas 
 does not get on well with his mother. What seems to 
 hurt most is the late union of Texas with Coahuila. 
 This we cannot stand. Stephen F. Austin goes to the 
 City of Mexico with a memorial on the subject to the 
 federal government. He writes from there to the muni 
 cipality of San Antonio, Oct. 2d, 1833, informing the 
 people that their request is likely to be refused, and 
 advising them to make themselves ready for that 
 emergency. The municipality hand this letter over 
 to Vice-President Farias, who, already angry with Austin 
 on an old account, arrests him on his way home and 
 throws him into prison, back in the City of Mexico. 
 
 In October, 1834, certain people in San Antonio 
 hold what Yoakum calls " the first strictly revolutionary 
 meeting in Texas; " for Santa Ana has pronounced, and 
 got to be at the head of affairs, and he refuses to separate 
 Texas from Coahuila. So, through meetings all over 
 the State ; through conferences of citizen deputations 
 with Colonel Ugartochea, Mexican Commandant at San 
 Antonio, for the purpose of explaining matters ; through 
 confused arguments and resolutions of the peace party 
 and the war party ; through confused rumors of the ad 
 vance of Mexican General Cos with an army ; through 
 squabbling and wrangling and final fighting over the can 
 non that had been lent by the Post of Bexar to the 
 people of Gonzalez ; through all manner of civic trouble 
 consequent upon the imprisonment of Governor Viesca 
 of Texas by Santa Ana, and the suspension of the pro 
 gress of the civil law machine, we come to the time 
 when the committee of San Felipe boldly cry : " Let us 
 
62 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 take Bexar and drive the Mexican soldiery out of 
 Texas/" and presently here, on the 28th of October, 
 1835, is General Cos with his army in San Antonio, for 
 tifying for dear life, while yonder is Austin with a thou 
 sand Texans, at Mission Concepcion, a mile and a half 
 down the river below town, where Fannin and Bowie 
 with ninety men in advance have a few hours before 
 waged a brilliant battle with four hundred Mexicans, 
 capturing their field-piece, killing and wounding a hun 
 dred or more, and driving the rest back to town. 
 
 General Austin believes, it seems, that Cos will sur 
 render without a battle ; and so remains at Concepcion 
 till November 2d, then marches up past the town on the 
 east side, encamps four or five days, marches down on 
 the west side, displays his forces on a hillside in terrorem, 
 sends in a demand for surrender and is flatly an 
 swered no. He resolves to lay siege. The days pass 
 slowly ; the enemy will not come out, though allured with 
 all manner of military enticements, and the army has no 
 " fun," with the exception of one small skirmish, until 
 the 26th, when "Deaf" Smith 1 discovers a party of a 
 hundred Mexican troops, who have been sent out to cut 
 prairie-grass for the horses in town, and reporting them 
 in camp, brings on what is known as the "grass- fight." 
 Col. James Bowie attacks with a hundred mounted 
 men; both sides are quickly reinforced, and a sharp 
 running fight is kept up until the enemy get back to 
 town ; the Texans capturing seventy horses and killing 
 some fifty of the enemy, with a loss of but two wounded 
 and one missing. Meantime discontents arise. On the 
 day before the "grass-fight" Austin resigns, having 
 
 1 One of the most celebrated and efficient scouts of the 
 revolution. 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 63 
 
 been appointed Commissioner to the United States, and 
 Edward Burleson is elected by the army to the com 
 mand. General Burleson, for some reason, seems loth 
 to storm. Moreover, one Dr. James Grant seduces a 
 large party with a wild project to leave San Antonio and 
 attack Matamoros, when he declares that the whole of 
 Mexico will rise and overwhelm Santa Ana ; and on the 
 29th of November it is actually announced that two 
 hundred and twenty-five men are determined to start 
 the next morning. 
 
 But they do not start. It is whispered the town will 
 be stormed. On the $d of December, Smith, Holmes, 
 and Maverick escape from San Antonio, and give the 
 Texan commander such information as apparently deter 
 mines him to storm. Volunteers are called for to attack 
 early next morning; all day and all night of that 
 December 3d the men make themselves ready, and 
 long for the moment to advance : when here comes 
 word from the General s quarters that the attack is put 
 off ! Chagrin and indignation prevail on all sides. On 
 the morning of the 4th there is open disobedience of 
 orders ; whole companies refuse to parade. Finally, 
 when on the same afternoon orders are issued to aban 
 don camp and march for La Bahia at seven o clock, the 
 tumult is terrible, and it seems likely that these wild 
 energetic souls, failing the Mexicans, will end by exter 
 minating each other. 
 
 Midst of the confusion here arrives Mexican Lieuten 
 ant Vuavis, a deserter, and declares that the projected 
 attack is not known (as had been assigned for reason of 
 postponing), and that the garrison in town is in as bad 
 order and discontent as the besiegers. At this critical 
 moment a brave man suddenly crystallizes the loose 
 
64 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 mass of discordant men and opinions into one compact 
 force and one keen purpose. It is late in the morning, 
 Col. Benjamin R. Milam steps forth among the men, 
 and cries aloud : " Who will go with old Ben Milam 
 into San Antonio?" Three hundred and one men 
 will go. 
 
 A little before daylight on the 5th they " go," General 
 Burleson agreeing to hold his position until he hears 
 from them. Milam marches into and along Acequia 
 Street with his party ; Johnson with his along Soledad 
 Street. Where these debouch into the Main Plaza, 
 Cos has thrown up breastworks and placed raking bat 
 teries. The columns march parallel along the quiet 
 streets. Presently, as Johnson gets near the Veramendi 
 House (which he is to occupy, while Milam is to gain 
 De la Ganza s house), a Mexican sentinel fires. Deaf 
 Smith shoots the sentinel. The Mexicans prick up their 
 ears, prick into their cannon-cartridges ; the Plaza bat 
 teries open, the Alamo batteries join in ; spade, crow 
 bar, rifle, escopet, all are plied, and the storming of 
 Bexar is begun. 
 
 But it would take many such papers as this to give 
 even meagre details of all the battles that have been 
 fought in and around San Antonio, and one must pass 
 over the four days of this thrilling conflict with briefest 
 mention. It is novel fighting ; warfare intramural, one 
 might say. The Texans advance inch by inch by pierc 
 ing through the stone walls of the houses, pecking loop 
 holes with crowbars for their rifles as they gain each 
 room, picking off the enemy from his house-tops, from 
 around his cannon, even from behind his own loop 
 holes. On the night of the 5th with great trouble and 
 risk the two columns succeed in opening communication 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 65 
 
 with each other. On the 6th they advance a little 
 beyond the Ganza house. On the yth brave Karnes 
 steps forth with a crowbar and breaks into a house 
 midway between the Ganza house and the Plaza ; brave 
 Milam is stricken by a rifle ball just as he is entering 
 the yard of the Veramendi house and falls instantly 
 dead ; and the Navarro house, one block from the 
 Main Plaza, is gained. On the 8th they take the 
 " Zambrano Row " of buildings, driving the enemy from 
 it room by room ; the enemy endeavor to produce a 
 diversion with fifty men, and do, in a sense, for Burleson 
 finds some diversion in driving them back precipitately 
 with a six-pounder; at night those in the Zambrano 
 Row are reinforced, and the " Priest s House " is gained 
 amid heavy fighting. 
 
 This last is the stroke of grace. The Priest s House 
 commands the Plaza. Early on the morning of the Qth 
 General Cos sends a flag of truce, asking to surrender, 
 and on the loth agrees with General Burleson upon 
 formal and honorable articles of capitulation. 
 
 The poor citizens of San Antonio de Bexar, however, 
 do not yet enjoy the blessings of life in quiet; these 
 wild soldiers who have stormed the town cannot remain 
 long without excitement. Presently Dr. Grant revives 
 his old Matamoros project, and soon departs, carrying 
 with him most of the troops that had been left at Bexar 
 for its defence, together with great part of the garrison s 
 winter supply of clothing, ammunition, and provisions, 
 and in addition "pressing" such property of the citi 
 zens as he needs, insomuch that Colonel Neill, at that time 
 in command at Bexar, writes to the Governor of Texas 
 that the place is left destitute and defenceless. Soon 
 afterward Colonel Neill is ordered to destroy the Alamo 
 
 5 
 
66 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 walls and other fortifications, and bring off the artillery, 
 since no head can be made there in the present crisis 
 against the enemy, who is reported marching in force 
 upon San Antonio. Having no teams, Colonel Neill is 
 unable to obey the order, and presently retires, his 
 unpaid men having dropped off until but eighty re 
 main, of whom Col. Wm. B. Travis assumes command. 
 Colonel Travis promptly calls for more troops, but gets 
 none as yet, for the Governor and Council are at deadly 
 quarrel, and the soldiers are all pressing towards Mata- 
 moros. Travis has brought thirty men with him ; about 
 the middle of February he is joined by Colonel Bowie 
 with thirty others, and these, with the eighty already in 
 garrison, constitute the defenders of San Antonio de 
 Bexar. On the 23d of February appears General Santa 
 Ana at the head of a well-appointed army of some four 
 thousand men, and marches straight on into town. The 
 Texans retire before him slowly, and finally shut them 
 selves up in the Alamo ; here straightway begins that 
 bloodiest, smokiest, grimiest tragedy of this century. 
 William B. Travis, James Bowie, and David Crockett, 
 with their hundred and forty-five effective men, are 
 enclosed within a stone rectangle one hundred and 
 ninety feet long and one hundred and twenty-two feet 
 wide, having the old church of the Alamo in the south 
 east corner, in which are their quarters and magazine. 
 They have a supply of water from the ditches that run 
 alongside the walls, and by way of provision they have 
 about ninety bushels of corn and thirty beef-cattle, their 
 entire stock, all collected since the enemy came in 
 sight. The walls are unbroken, with no angles from 
 which to command besieging lines. They have fourteen 
 pieces of artillery mounted, with but little ammunition. 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 67 
 
 Santa Ana demands unconditional surrender. Travis 
 replies with a cannon-shot, and the attack commences, 
 the enemy running up a blood-red flag in town. Travis 
 dispatches a messenger with a call to his countrymen 
 for -reinforcements, which concludes : " Though this 
 call may be neglected, I am determined to sustain 
 myself as long as possible, and die like a soldier who 
 never forgets what is due to his own honor and that of 
 his country. Victory or death ! " Meantime the enemy 
 is active. On the 25th Travis has a sharp fight to pre 
 vent him from erecting a battery raking the gate of the 
 Alamo. At night it is erected, with another a half-mile 
 off at the Garita, or powder-house, on a sharp eminence 
 at the extremity of the present main street of the town. 
 On the 26th there is skirmishing with the Mexican 
 cavalry. In the cold for a norther has commenced 
 to blow and the thermometer is down to thirty-nine 
 the Texans make a sally successfully for wood and 
 water, and that night they burn some old houses on the 
 northeast that might afford cover for the enemy. So 
 amid the enemy s constant rain of shells and balls, which 
 miraculously hurt no one, the Texans strengthen their 
 works and the siege goes on. On the 28th Fannin starts 
 from Goliad with three hundred troops and four pieces 
 of artillery, but for lack of teams and provisions quickly 
 returns, and the little garrison is left to its fate. On the 
 morning of the ist of March there is doubtless a 
 wild shout of welcome in the Alamo ; Capt. John W. 
 Smith has managed to convey thirty-two men from 
 Gonzales into the fort. These join the heroes, and the 
 attack and defence go on. On the 3d a single man, 
 Moses Rose, escapes from the fort. His account of 
 
68 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 that day l must entitle it to consecration as one of the 
 most pathetic days of time. 
 
 " About two hours before sunset on the 3d of March, 
 1836, the bombardment suddenly ceased, and the enemy 
 withdrew an unusual distance. . . . Colonel Travis 
 paraded all his effective men in a single file, and taking 
 his position in front of the centre, he stood for some 
 moments apparently speechless from emotion; then 
 nerving himself for the occasion, he addressed them 
 substantially as follows : 
 
 " My brave companions : stern necessity compels me 
 to employ the few moments afforded by this probably 
 brief cessation of conflict, in making known to you the 
 most interesting, yet the most solemn, melancholy, and 
 unwelcome fact that humanity can realize. . . . Our 
 fate is sealed. Within a very few days, perhaps a very 
 few hours, we must all be in eternity ! I have deceived 
 you long by the promise of help ; but I crave your 
 pardon, hoping that after hearing my explanation you 
 will not only regard my conduct as pardonable, but 
 heartily sympathize with me in my extreme neces 
 sity. ... I have continually received the strongest as 
 surances of help from home. Every letter from the 
 Council, and every one that I have seen from individuals 
 at home, has teemed with assurances that our people 
 were ready, willing, and anxious to come to our re- 
 
 1 As transmitted by the Zuber family, whose residence was the 
 first place at which poor Rose had dared to stop, and with whom 
 he remained some weeks, healing the festered wounds made on 
 his legs by the cactus-thorns during the days of his fearful jour 
 ney. The account from which these extracts are taken, is con 
 tributed to the Texas Almanac for 1873, by W. P. Zuber, and his 
 mother, Mary Ann Zuber. 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 69 
 
 lief. . . . These assurances I received as facts. . . . 
 In the honest and simple confidence of my heart I have 
 transmitted to you these promises of help and my con 
 fident hope of success. But the promised help has not 
 come, and our hopes are not to be realized. I have 
 evidently confided too much in the promises of our 
 friends ; but let us not be in haste to censure them. . . . 
 Our friends were evidently not informed of our perilous 
 condition in time to save us. Doubtless they would 
 have been here by this time had they expected any con 
 siderable force of the enemy. . . . My calls on Colonel 
 Fannin remain unanswered, and my messengers have 
 not returned. The probabilities are that his whole 
 command has fallen into the hands of the enemy, or 
 been cut to pieces, and that our couriers have been cut 
 off. [So does the brave simple soul refuse to feel any 
 bitterness in the hour of death.] . . . Then we must 
 die. . . . Our business is not to make a fruitless effort 
 to save our lives, but to choose the manner of our death. 
 But three modes are presented to us ; let us choose that 
 by which we may best serve our country. Shall we 
 surrender and be deliberately shot without taking the 
 life of a single enemy? Shall we try to cut our way 
 out through the Mexican ranks and be butchered before 
 we can kill twenty of our adversaries? I am opposed 
 to either method. . . . Let us resolve to withstand our 
 adversaries to the last, and at each advance to kill as 
 many of them as possible. And when at last they shall 
 storm our fortress, let us kill them as they come ! kill 
 them as they scale our wall ! kill them as they leap 
 within ! kill them as they raise their weapons and as 
 they use them ! kill them as they kill our companions ! 
 and continue to kill them as long as one of us shall 
 
yo Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 remain alive ! . . . But I leave every man to his own 
 choice. Should any man prefer to surrender ... or 
 to attempt an escape . . . he is at liberty to do 
 so. My own choice is to stay in the fort and die 
 for my country, fighting as long as breath shall remain 
 in my body. This will I do, even if you leave me 
 alone. Do as you think best; but no man can die 
 with me without affording me comfort in the hour of 
 death ! 
 
 "Colonel Travis then drew his sword, and with its 
 point traced a line upon the ground extending from the 
 right to the left of the file. Then resuming his position 
 in front of the centre, he said, I now want every man 
 who is determined to stay here and die with me to come 
 across this line. Who will be first ? March ! The first 
 respondent was Tapley Holland, who leaped the line 
 at a bound, exclaiming, I am ready to die for my 
 country ! His example was instantly followed by every 
 man in the file with the exception of Rose. . . . Every 
 sick man that could walk, arose from his bunk and tottered 
 across the line. Colonel Bowie, who could not leave his 
 bed, said, Boys, I am not able to come to you, but I 
 wish some of you would be so kind as to remove my 
 cot over there. Four men instantly ran to the cot, 
 and each lifting a corner, carried it across the line. 
 Then every sick man that could not walk made the 
 same request, and had his bunk removed in the same 
 way. 
 
 " Rose too was deeply affected, but differently from 
 his companions. He stood till every man but himself 
 had crossed the line. . . . He sank upon the ground, 
 covered his face, and yielded to his own reflections. . . . 
 A bright idea came to his relief; he spoke the Mexican 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 71 
 
 dialect very fluently, and could he once get safely out of 
 the fort, he might easily pass for a Mexican and effect 
 an escape. . . . He directed a searching glance at 
 the cot of Colonel Bowie. . . . Col. David Crockett was 
 leaning over the cot, conversing with its occupant in an 
 undertone. After a few seconds Bowie looked at Rose 
 and said, You seem not to be willing to die with us, 
 Rose. No/ said Rose ; I am not prepared to die, 
 and shall not do so if I can avoid it. Then Crockett 
 also looked at him, and said, You may as well conclude 
 to die with us, old man, for escape is impossible. Rose 
 made no reply, but looked at the top of the wall. I 
 have often done worse than to climb that wall, thought 
 he. Suiting the action to the thought, he sprang up, 
 seized his wallet of unwashed clothes, and ascended the 
 wall. Standing on its top, he looked down within to 
 take a last view of his dying friends. They were all now 
 in motion, but what they were doing he heeded not ; 
 overpowered by his feelings, he looked away and saw 
 them no more. . . . He threw down his wallet and 
 leaped after it. ... He took the road which led down 
 the river around a bend to the ford, and through the 
 town by the church. He waded the river at the ford 
 and passed through the town. He saw no person . . . 
 but the doors were all closed, and San Antonio appeared 
 as a deserted city. 
 
 " After passing through the town he turned down the 
 river. A stillness as of death prevailed. When he had 
 gone about a quarter of a mile below the town, his ears 
 were saluted by the thunder of the bombardment, which 
 was then renewed. That thunder continued to remind 
 him that his friends were true to their cause, by a con 
 tinual roar with but slight intervals until a little before 
 
72 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 sunrise on the morning of the 6th, when it ceased and 
 he heard it no more." l 
 
 And well may it " cease " on that morning of that 6th ; 
 for after that thrilling 3d the siege goes on, the enemy 
 furious, the Texans replying calmly and slowly. Finally 
 Santa Ana determines to storm. Some hours before day 
 light on the morning of the 6th the Mexican infantry, 
 provided with scaling-ladders, and backed by the cavalry 
 to keep them up to the work, surround the doomed fort. 
 At daylight they advance and plant their ladders, but 
 give back under a deadly fire from the Texans. They 
 advance again, and again retreat. A third time Santa 
 Ana threatening and coaxing by turns they plant their 
 ladders. Now they mount the walls. The Texans are 
 overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers and exhaustion 
 of continued watching and fighting. The Mexicans 
 swarm into the fort. The Texans club their guns ; one 
 by one they fall fighting now Travis yonder by the 
 western wall, now Crockett here in the angle of the 
 church-wall, now Bowie butchered and mutilated in his 
 sick-cot, breathe quick and pass away; and presently 
 every Texan lies dead, while there in horrid heaps are 
 stretched five hundred and twenty-one dead Mexicans 
 and as many more wounded ! Of the human beings that 
 were in the fort five remain alive : Mrs. Dickinson and 
 her child, Colonel Travis negro-servant, and two 
 Mexican women. The conquerors endeavored to get 
 
 1 Rose succeeded in making his escape, and reached the house 
 of the Zubers, as before stated, in fearful condition. After remain 
 ing here some weeks, he started for his home in Nacogdoches, but 
 on the way his thorn-wounds became inflamed anew, and when he 
 reached home " his friends thought that he could not live many 
 months." This was " the last " that the Zubers " heard of him." 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 73 
 
 some more revenge out of the dead, and close the scene 
 with raking together the bodies of the Texans, amid 
 insults, and burning them. 
 
 The town did not long remain in the hands of the 
 Mexicans. Events followed each other rapidly until the 
 battle of San Jacinto, after which the dejected Santa Ana 
 wrote his famous letter of captivity under the tree, which 
 for a time relieved the soil of Texas from hostile foot 
 steps. San Antonio was nevertheless not free from blood 
 shed, though beginning to drive a sharp trade with 
 Mexico and to make those approaches towards the 
 peaceful arts which necessarily accompany trade. The 
 Indians kept life from stagnating, and in the year 1840 
 occurred a bloody battle with them in the very midst of 
 the town. Certain Camanche chiefs, pending negotia 
 tions for a treaty of peace, had promised to bring in all 
 the captives they had ; and on the igth of March, 1840, 
 met the Texan Commissioners in the Council-house in 
 San Antonio to redeem their promise. Leaving twenty 
 warriors and thirty-two women and children outside, 
 twelve chiefs entered the council-room and presented 
 the only captive they had brought a little white girl 
 declaring that they had no others. This statement the 
 little girl pronounced false, asserting that it was made 
 solely for the purpose of extorting greater ransoms, and 
 that she had but recently seen other captives in their 
 camp. An awkward pause followed. Presently one of 
 the chiefs inquired, How the Commissioners liked it. By 
 way of reply, the company of Captain Howard, who had 
 been sent for, filed into the room, and the Indians were 
 told that they would be held prisoners until they should 
 send some of their party outside after the rest of the cap 
 tives. The Commissioners then rose and left the room. 
 
74 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 As they were in the act of leaving, however, one of the 
 Indian chiefs attempted to rush through the door, and 
 being confronted by the sentinel, stabbed him. Seeing 
 the sentinel hurt, and Captain Howard also stabbed, the 
 other chiefs sprang forward with knives and bows and 
 arrows, and the fight raged until they were all killed. 
 Meantime the warriors outside began to fight, and 
 engaged the company of Captain Read; but, taking 
 shelter in a stone-house, were surrounded and killed. 
 Still another detachment of the Indians managed to con 
 tinue the fight until they had reached the other side of 
 the river, when they were finally despatched. Thirty- 
 two Indian warriors and five Indian women and children 
 were slain, and the rest of the women and children were 
 made prisoners. The savages fought desperately, for 
 seven Texans were killed and eight wounded. 
 
 The war between Texas and Mexico had now lan 
 guished for some years. The project of annexation was 
 much discussed in the United States ; one great objec 
 tion to it was that the United States would embroil itself 
 with a nation with which it was at peace Mexico by 
 annexing Texas, then at war. The war, however, seemed 
 likely to die away ; and to prevent the removal of the 
 obstacle to annexation in that way, Mexico made feeble 
 efforts to keep up such hostilities as might at least give 
 color to the assertion that the war had not ended. Ac 
 cordingly in the year 1842 a Mexican army again invested 
 San Antonio. After a short parley, Colonel Hays with 
 drew with his small force, and the Mexicans, numbering 
 about seven hundred men under General Vasquez, took 
 possession of the place and formally reorganized it as a 
 Mexican town. They remained, however, only two days, 
 and conducted themselves, officially, with great propriety, 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 75 
 
 though the citizens are said to have lost a great deal of 
 valuable property by unauthorized depredations of private 
 soldiers and of Mexican citizens who accompanied the 
 army on its departure. 
 
 Again on the nth of September, 1842, a Mexican 
 army of twelve hundred men under General Woll, sent 
 probably by the same policy which had despatched the 
 other, surprised the town of San Antonio, and after 
 having a few killed and wounded, took possession, the 
 citizens having capitulated. General Woll captured the 
 entire bar of lawyers in attendance on the District 
 Court, then in session, and held them as prisoners of 
 war. He did not escape, however, so easily as General 
 Vasquez. The Texans gathered rapidly, and by the 
 1 7th had assembled two hundred and twenty men on 
 the Salad o, some six miles from town. Captain Hays 
 with fifty men decoyed General Woll forth, and a battle 
 ensued from which the enemy withdrew at sunset with 
 a loss of sixty killed and about the same number 
 wounded, the Texans losing one killed and nine 
 wounded. It is easy to believe that the honest citizens 
 of San Antonio got little sleep on that night of the iyth 
 of September, 1842. General Woll was busy making 
 preparations for retreat ; and the Mexican citizens who 
 intended to accompany him were also busy gathering 
 up plunder right and left to take with them. At day 
 light they all departed. This was the last time that San 
 Antonio de Bexar was ever in Mexican hands. 
 
 After annexation, in 1845, the town began to improve. 
 The trade from certain portions of Mexico Chihua 
 hua and the neighboring States seems always to have 
 eagerly sought San Antonio as a point of supplies 
 whenever peace gave it the opportunity. Presently, 
 
76 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 too, the United States government selected San An 
 tonio as the base for the frontier army below El Paso, 
 and the large quantities of money expended in con 
 nection with the supply and transportation of all 
 materiel for so long a line of forts have contributed very 
 materially to the prosperity of the town. From a popu 
 lation of about 3500 in 1850, it increased to 10,000 in 
 1856, and has now about 15,000. 
 
 Abandoning now this meagre historical sketch, and 
 pursuing the order indicated in the enumeration of 
 contrast and eccentricities given in the early part of 
 this paper : one finds in San Antonio the queerest 
 juxtaposition of civilizations, white, yellow (Mexican), 
 red (Indian), black (negro), and all possible permuta 
 tions of these significant colors. The Germans, the 
 Americans, and the Mexicans are not greatly unequal in 
 numbers ; besides these there are probably representa 
 tives from all European nationalities. At the Commerce 
 Street bridge over the San Antonio River, stands a post 
 supporting a large sign-board, upon which appear the 
 following three legends : 
 
 Walk your horse over this bridge, or you will be fined. 
 Schnelles Reiten iiber diese Briicke ist verboten. 
 Anda despacio con su caballo, 6 teroe la ley. 
 
 To the meditative stroller across this bridge and on a 
 soft day when the Gulf breeze and the sunshine are king 
 and queen, any stranger may be safely defied to cross 
 this bridge without becoming meditative there is a 
 fine satire in the varying tone of these inscriptions 
 for they are by no means faithful translations of each 
 other ; a satire all the keener in that it must have been 
 wholly unconscious. For mark : " Walk your horse, 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 77 
 
 etc., or you will be fined!" This is the American s 
 warning : the alternative is a money consideration, and 
 the appeal is solely to the pocket. But now the German 
 is simply informed that schnelles Reiten over this bridge 
 ist verboten is forbidden ; as who should say : " So, 
 thou quiet, law-abiding Teuton, enough for thee to 
 know that it is forbidden, simply." And lastly, the Mexi 
 can direction takes wholly a different turn from either : 
 Slow there with your horse, Mexicano, "6 teme la ley" 
 or "fear the law / " 
 
 Religious services are regularly conducted in four 
 languages, German, Spanish, English, and Polish. 
 
 Perhaps the variety of the population cannot be 
 better illustrated than by the following " commodity of 
 good names," occurring in a slip cut from a daily paper 
 of the town a day or two ago : 
 
 MATRIMONIAL. The matrimonial market for a couple 
 of weeks past has been unusually lively, as evidenced by the 
 following list of marriage licenses issued during that time : 
 Cruz de la Cruz and Manuela Sauseda ; Felipe Sallani and 
 Maria del R. Lopez; G. Isabolo and Rafaela Urvana ; 
 Anto. P. Rivas and Maria Quintana ; Garmel Hernandez 
 and Seferina Rodriguez ; T. B. Leighton and Franceska E. 
 Schmidt; Rafael Diaz and Michaela Chavez; Levy Taylor 
 and Anna Simpson, colored ; Ignacio Andrada and Juliana 
 Baltasar; August Dubiell and Philomena Muschell ; James 
 Callaghan and Mary Grenet; Albert Anz and Ida Pollock; 
 Stephen Hoog and Mina Schneider ; Wm. King and Sarah 
 Wilson, colored ; Joseph McCoy and Jessie Brown ; Valen 
 tine Heck and Clara Hirsch ; John F. Dunn and E. Annie 
 Dunn. 
 
 These various nationalities appear to take great pains in 
 preserving their peculiar tongues. In all the large stores 
 the clerks must understand at least English, German, 
 
78 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 and Mexican; and one medical gentleman adds to 
 his professional card in the newspaper that he will 
 hold "consultations in English, French, Italian, and 
 Spanish." 
 
 Much interest has attached, of late years, to the 
 climate of San Antonio, in consequence of its alleged 
 happy influence upon consumption. One of the recog 
 nized "institutions" of the town is the consumptives, 
 who are sent here from remote parts of the United 
 States and from Europe and who may be seen on fine 
 days, in various stages of decrepitude, strolling about 
 the streets. This present writer has the honor to 
 be one of those strolling individuals; but he does 
 not intend to attempt to describe the climate, for 
 three reasons : first, because it is simply indescrib 
 able ; second, if it were not so, his experience has 
 been such as to convince him that the needs of 
 consumptives in point of climate depend upon two 
 variable elements, to wit, the stage which the patient has 
 reached, and the peculiar temperament of each indi 
 vidual, and that therefore any general recommendation of 
 any particular climate is often erroneous and sometimes 
 fatally deceptive; and third, because he fortunately is 
 able to present some of the facts of the climate, which 
 may be relied upon as scientifically accurate, and from 
 the proper study of which each intelligent consumptive 
 can make up his mind as to the suitableness of the 
 climate to his individual case. For the past five years, 
 Dr. F. v. Pettersen, a Swedish physician and ardent 
 lover of science, resident in San Antonio, has con 
 ducted a series of meteorological observations with 
 accurate apparatus ; and the results which follow have 
 been compiled from his records : 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 79 
 
 MEAN THERMOMETER. 
 
 Spring. Summer. Autumn. Winter. 
 
 Seasons of 1868 
 
 74-33 
 
 84.33 
 
 71-33 
 
 54.66 
 
 1869 
 
 . . . 66.43 
 
 83.10 
 
 67-53 
 
 5 2 -93 
 
 1870 
 
 . . . 68.70 
 
 8343 
 
 70.66 
 
 $!-3 
 
 " 1871 
 
 . . . 71.28 
 
 87-45 
 
 68.38 
 
 54-31 
 
 1872 
 
 . . . 70.58 
 
 83-13 
 
 68.96 
 
 49-75 
 
 MEAN HYGROMETER. 
 
 Seasons of 1868 
 
 ... 65* 
 
 78 
 
 64 
 
 49 
 
 " 1869 
 
 ... 62 
 
 77 
 
 62 
 
 49 
 
 1870 
 
 ... 60 
 
 77 
 
 65 
 
 46 
 
 " 1871 
 
 ... 64 
 
 73 
 
 63 
 
 50 
 
 1872 
 
 ... 64 
 
 76 
 
 61 
 
 46 
 
 TOTAL RAINFALL. 
 For the year 1868 .... 46.60 inches 
 
 1869 .... 49-03 " 
 
 1870 .... 35.12 " 
 
 1871 .... 24.86 " 
 
 1872 .... 31.62 " 
 
 These are averages, but the view which they present 
 of the climate, although strictly accurate as far as it 
 goes, is by no means complete. For the consumptive 
 is specially interested in the uniformity and equableness 
 of temperatures, and it remains therefore to supplement 
 the above table with some account of the nature, extent, 
 and suddenness of the changes of the thermometer in 
 the climate under consideration. These at San Antonio 
 are very peculiar, very great and very rapid. They 
 mostly occur under the influence of those remarkable 
 meteorological phenomena called " northers," which 
 are peculiar to a belt of country that may be roughly 
 defined as bounded on the east by the second tier of 
 Texan counties from Red River, on the west by the 
 1 Fractions omitted. 
 
8o Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 Sierra Madre in Mexico, and on the north by a line 
 drawn through the Indian Territory not far above the 
 northern boundary of Texas. The northers are known 
 as of two sorts : the wet and the dry. To know what a 
 norther is, let one fancy himself riding along the un 
 dulating prairie about San Antonio on a splendid day in 
 April, when the flowers, the birds, and the sunshine seem 
 to be playing at a wild game of which can be maddest 
 with delight, and the tender spring-sky looks on like a 
 young mother laughing at the antics of her darlings. 
 Presently you observe that it is very warm. An hour 
 later you cannot endure your coat ; you throw it off and 
 hang it about the saddle, and soon the heat is stifling, 
 thermometer at ninety degrees, which on a windless 
 prairie with the Gulf moisture in the air, is greatly re 
 laxing. Standing on an elevation in the hope of getting 
 some breath of air, suddenly you observe a bluish haze 
 in the north, which has come no one knows when or 
 whence. In a few moments a great roar advances; 
 then you observe the mesquit grow tremulous, and pres 
 ently the wind strikes you, blows your moist garment 
 against your skin with a mortal chill ; and if you are 
 prudent at all you make for a house as fast as your horse 
 can carry you, or in default of that for some thicket of 
 mesquit in a ravine under the lee of the hill. In an 
 hour the thermometer may have sunken to forty degrees 
 from ninety degrees ; this range of fifty degrees in an 
 hour was noted by Dr. Petterse"n during the observations 
 before alluded to. This is the " dry norther ; " for the 
 wet norther, add a furious storm of rain, of hail, or of 
 snow, to the phenomena just described. The norther 
 may last but twelve hours ; it may also last nine days, 
 the usual duration being probably about three days, 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 81 
 
 Dr. PetterseVs records show that in the year 1868 there 
 were at San Antonio twelve northers, of which nine were 
 dry, two wet, and one with hail; in 1869 twenty north 
 ers eighteen dry and two wet; in 1870 twenty- four 
 northers seventeen dry, seven wet; in 1871 twenty- 
 six northers twenty-two dry, three wet, one with hail 
 storm; in 1872 thirty northers twenty dry, nine wet, 
 and one with hail. These occurred during all months 
 of the year except June, July, and August ; less frequently 
 m May than during the other months. There is also, 
 besides the genuine norther, a wind which the inhabi 
 tants call a " gentle norther." This is rather a north 
 westerly, or sometimes westerly wind, and its prevalence 
 creates what, in this present writer s experience, is by 
 far the finest winter weather in Texas. One came up 
 two days ago. The night had been sultry, though in 
 February ; a nameless oppression was in the air, and a 
 heavy mist rolled along over the river. After an uneasy 
 half-slumber I woke at dawn, and immediately heard a 
 pleasant drawing sound in the air, greatly like the noise 
 made by the water against the prow of one s boat when 
 after a calm the sail has caught the steady breeze and 
 she begins to cut swiftly and smoothly along. In a few 
 moments the wind was howling about the house, but 
 when I came out for breakfast I found that its bark 
 was worse than its bite ; for this was a typic " gentle 
 norther," the air crystalline, brittle, and dry, the sun shin 
 ing brightly, the sky clear, the wind strong but balmy, 
 the temperature soft yet bracing. In about three 
 months of residence, commencing near the middle of 
 November, 1872, there have occurred not more than 
 three of these, lasting about two days each. I have no 
 authentic data upon which to base a conclusion as to 
 
 6 
 
82 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 their average frequency. Any one who discovers a land 
 where such weather prevails for two or three months at 
 a time, will have found the place where consumption 
 can be cured. 
 
 It is proper to add that the city of San Antonio is 
 situated in the valley of the San Antonio River, and that 
 malarious mists creep down this stream, when not blown 
 away by contrary winds, which subject the stranger to 
 liability to those diseases which require quinine, such 
 as remittent fevers, fever and ague, epidemic colds, etc. 
 These are, however, of mild form, and can probably be 
 prevented by taking small quantities of quinine each day 
 in anticipation. 1 
 
 While the thermometer cuts such capers as leaping 
 over 50 in an hour, the hygrometer, in whose motions 
 invalids are no less interested, often seems to behave 
 with equal want of dignity. During one of the " gentle 
 northers " above alluded to, the hygrometer has shown 
 the relative moisture of the atmosphere to be as low as 
 1 8, full saturation being 100; but again the same instru 
 ment has shown, during the month of August, 1872, a 
 state of moisture represented by 101 ; a period when 
 rain must have been actually exuding from the air like 
 water from a sponge. Frequently the writer has seen 
 remarkable examples of complete saturation of the air in 
 the strange aspect of the river which runs a few yards 
 from his window. All day long a great cloud of mist 
 sometimes goes steaming up from the surface of the 
 stream to such an extent that its milky-green water will 
 
 1 Perhaps it may be mentioned here for the benefit of consump 
 tives that the climates of Boerne (30 miles above) and of Frede- 
 ricksburg (80 miles above) are said to be better in this particular 
 than that of San Antonio, and also cooler. 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 83 
 
 be completely obscured, and standing at a short dis 
 tance one seems to have arrived at some long rift in 
 the earth from which the smoke of the nether fires is 
 continually pouring up. I have seen this uprising of 
 thick mist go on day and night for several days together. 
 The water of the stream is said to be at 72 the year 
 round. This high temperature must keep up a rapid 
 evaporation ; and when the vapor-capacity of the super 
 incumbent air has been surcharged, with at the same 
 time sufficiently cold air to condense the vaporous mist, 
 the evaporation becomes visible and produces the effect 
 described. 
 
 The following table, which will conclude this account 
 of the San Antonio climate, will give to the invalid a 
 very important, and at the same time authoritative and 
 accurate series of facts upon which to project his prepa 
 rations for weather-defence in the way of clothing, etc. 
 This table is calculated from the records for the four 
 years beginning with 1868 and ending with 1871. The 
 plain interpretation of it is, taking the month of February 
 for instance, that on this present loth day of that month 
 neither I nor any other man can tell whether the tem 
 perature to-morrow may be 84, when we shall yearn to 
 throw away our coats and to burn all our flannel goods, 
 or whether it may be 26, when we shall desire to stand 
 all day with our arms clasped affectionately round our 
 respective stove-pipes. 
 
 MAXIMUM AND MINIMUM OF THERMOMETER DURING THE FOUR 
 YEARS ABOVE-MENTIONED FOR EACH MONTH. 
 
 Jan. Feb. Mar. Apr. May. June. July. Aug. Sept. Oct. Nov. Dec. 
 Maximum 75 84 82 87 95 106 102 104 99 90 89 79 
 Minimum 27 26 29 46 63 71 75 75 57 43 22 14 
 
84 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 San Antonio is at an altitude of 564 feet above the 
 level of the sea, in latitude 29 28 , longitude 98 24 . 
 It is placed just in the edge of a belt of country one 
 hundred and fifty mites wide, reaching to the Rio 
 Grande, and principally devoted to cattle-raising. One 
 can sit on one s horse, in the western suburbs of the 
 city and mark where the line of the rude Mexican 
 meals (huts) abruptly breaks off, and yields place to the 
 vast mesquit-covered plain, over which the eye ranges 
 for great lonely distances without detecting any traces 
 of the occupancy of man. No gardens, pastures, scat 
 tered houses, or the like are there to break the sudden 
 transition : it is the city, then the plain ; it is home 
 cheek by jowl with desert. Inside, the location of the 
 city is no less picturesque. Two streams, the San 
 Antonio and San Pedro rivers, run in a direction gen 
 erally parallel, though specially as far from parallelism as 
 capricious crookedness can make itself, through the 
 entire town. The San Antonio is about sixty feet wide ; 
 its water is usually of a lovely milky-green. The stranger 
 strolling on a mild sunny day through the streets often 
 finds himself suddenly on a bridge, and is half startled 
 with the winding vista of sweet lawns running down to 
 the water, of weeping-willows kissing its surface, of 
 summer-houses on its banks, and of the swift yet 
 smooth-shining stream meandering this way and that, 
 actually combing the long sea-green locks of a trailing 
 water-grass which sends its waving tresses down the 
 centre of the current for hundreds of feet, and murmur 
 ing the while with a palpable Spanish lisping which 
 floats up among the rude noises of traffic along the 
 rock-paved street, as it were some dove-voiced Spanish 
 nun out of the convent yonder, praying heaven s mitiga- 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 85 
 
 tion of the wild battle of trade. Leaving this bridge, 
 walking down the main ("Commerce") street, across 
 the Main Plaza, then past the San Fernando Cathedral, 
 then across the Military Plaza, one comes presently to 
 the San Pedro, a small stream ten or fifteen feet in width, 
 up which the gazing stroller finds no romance but 
 mostly strict use ; for there squat the Mexican women 
 on their haunches, by their flat stones, washing the 
 family garments, in a position the very recollection of 
 which gives one simultaneous stitches of lumbago and 
 sciatica, yet which they appear to maintain for hours 
 without detriment. If it had been summer-time we 
 would most likely have seen, before we left the bridge 
 over the San Antonio, the black-locked heads of these 
 same ladies bobbing up and down the surface of the 
 river; for they love to lave themselves in this tepid 
 water, these sleek, plump, black-eyed, olive-cheeked 
 Mexicanas. 
 
 Crossing the San Pedro we are among the jacals. 
 Here is surely the very first step Architecture made when 
 she came out of the cave. A row of stakes is driven 
 into the ground, in and out between these mesquit-twigs 
 are wattled, a roof of twigs and straw is fastened on 
 somehow, anyhow, and there you are. Not only you, 
 but your family of astonishing numbers are there, all 
 huddled into this kennel whose door has to be crawled 
 into. Of course typhus-fevers and small-pox are to be 
 found among such layers of humanity. People are not 
 sardines. 
 
 Now we come to a step in advance in the matter of 
 houses. A row of stakes is put down, this is enclosed by 
 another row, leaving a space between of about a foot s 
 width, which is filled in with stones and mud, a thatched 
 
86 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 roof of straw is then put on, and the house is complete. 
 Still more pretentious dwellings are built of adobes, or 
 sun-dried brick. The majority of the substantial houses 
 of the town are constructed of a whitish limestone, so 
 soft when first quarried that it can be cut with a knife, 
 but quickly hardening by exposure into a very durable 
 building material. The prevailing style of dwelling 
 houses is low, windows are few and balconies scarce, 
 though in the more pretentious two-storied dwellings 
 there are some very good Moorish effects of projecting 
 stone and lattice-work. 
 
 By far the finest and largest architectural example in 
 the town is the San Fernando Cathedral, which presents 
 a broad, varied, and imposing fagade upon the western 
 side of the Main Plaza. Entering this building, one s 
 pleasure in its exterior gives way to curious surprise ; 
 for one finds inside the old stone church built here 
 more than a century ago, standing, a church within a 
 church, almost untouched save that parts of some pro 
 jecting pediments have been knocked away by the 
 builders. In this inner church services are still regularly 
 held, the outer one not being yet quite completed. The 
 curious dome, surrounded by a high wall over which its 
 topmost slit- windows just peer an evident relic of 
 ancient Moorish architecture, which one finds in the 
 rear of most of the old Spanish religious edifices in 
 Texas has been preserved, and still adjoins the queer 
 priests dormitories, which constitute the rear end of the 
 cathedral building. 
 
 There are other notable religious edifices in town. 
 Going back to Commerce Street, one can see a fine 
 large church just being completed for the German Cath 
 olics (San Fernando Cathedral is Mexican Catholic). 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 87 
 
 Crossing a graceful iron foot-bridge, down an alley that 
 turns off to the north from Commerce Street, one glances 
 up and down the stream, which here flows between* 
 heavy and costly abutments of stone to protect the rear 
 of the large stores whose fronts are on the Main Street, 
 and whose rear doors open almost immediately over the 
 water. Across the bridge the alley widens into a street, 
 and here in this odd nook of the stream is St. Mary s, 
 the American Catholic Church, its rear adjoining a long 
 three-storied stone convent building, and its yard sloping 
 down to the water. Strolling up the river a quarter of a 
 mile, one comes upon a long white stone building which 
 has evidently had much trouble to accommodate itself 
 to the site upon which it is built, and whose line is 
 broken into four or five abrupt angles, while its roof is 
 varied with dormer-windows and sharp projections and 
 spires and quaint clock-faces, and its rear is mysterious 
 with lattice-covered balconies and half-hidden corners 
 and corridors. This is the Ursuline Convent ; and 
 standing as it does on a rocky and steep (steep for 
 Texas plains) bank of the river, whose course its broken 
 line follows, and down to which its long stern-looking 
 wall descends, it is an edifice at once piquant and 
 sombre, and one cannot resist figuring Mr. James horse 
 man spurring his charger up the white limestone road 
 that winds alongside the wall, in the early twilight, when 
 dreams come whispering down the current among the 
 willow- sprays. 
 
 There are notable places about the town which the 
 stranger must visit. He may ride two miles along a 
 level road between market gardens which are vitalized 
 by a long acequia, or ditch, fed from the river, and 
 come presently upon the quaint gray towers of the old 
 
88 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 Mission Concepcion l whose early location has been 
 incidentally mentioned in the foregoing history. The 
 old church, with its high-walled dome in the rear, is in a 
 good state of preservation, and traces of the singular 
 many-colored frescoing on its front are still plainly 
 visible. Climbing a very shaky ladder, one gets upon 
 the roof of a long stone corridor running off from the 
 church building, and, taking good heed of the sharp- 
 thorned cactus which abounds up there, looks over upon 
 a quaint complication of wall-angles, nooks, and small- 
 windowed rooms. The place ceased to be used for 
 religious purposes some years ago, and is now occupied 
 by a German with his family, his Mexican laborers, and 
 his farm animals. This German tills the fertile mission 
 lands. Heaven send him better luck with his crops than 
 he had with his English ! 
 
 Further down the river a couple of miles one comes 
 to the Mission San Jose de Aguayo. This is more 
 elaborate and on a larger scale than the buildings of the 
 first Mission, and is still very beautiful. . Religious 
 services are regularly conducted here ; and one can do 
 worse things than to steal out here from town on some 
 wonderfully calm Sunday morning, and hear a mass, and 
 dream back the century and a half of strange, lonesome, 
 devout, hymn-haunted and Indian-haunted years that 
 have trailed past these walls. Five or six miles further 
 down the river are the ruins of the Mission San Juan, in 
 much dilapidation, i 
 
 Or the visitor may stroll off to the eastward, climb the 
 
 hill, wander about among the graves of heroes in the 
 
 large cemetery on the crest of the ridge, and please 
 
 himself with the noble reaches of country east and west 
 
 1 The Mission of Our Lady of the Concepcion de Acuna. 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 89 
 
 and with the perfect view of the city, which from here 
 seems "sown," like Tennyson s, " in a monstrous wrinkle 
 of the " prairie. Or, being in search of lions, one may 
 see the actual animal by a stroll to the "San Pedro 
 Springs Park," a mile or so to the northward. Here, 
 from under a white-ledged rocky hill, burst forth three 
 crystalline springs, which quickly unite and form the San 
 Pedro. Herr Diirler, in charge, has taken admirable 
 advantage of the ground, and what with spreading water- 
 oaks, rustic pleasure buildings, promenades along smooth 
 shaded avenues between concentric artificial lakes, a 
 race-course, an aviary, a fine Mexican lion whom burly 
 Herr Diirler scratches on the head, but who does not 
 seem to appreciate similar advances from other persons, 
 a bear-pit in which are an emerald-eyed blind cinnamon- 
 bear, a large black bear, a wolf and a coyote, and other 
 attractions, this is a very green spot indeed in the waste 
 prairies. ( Or one may drive five miles to northward and 
 see the romantic spot where the San Antonio River is 
 forever being born, leaping forth from the mountain, 
 complete, totus, even as Minerva from the head of Jove.y 
 Or one may take one s stand on the Commerce Street 
 bridge and involve oneself in the life that goes by this 
 way and that. 4 Yonder comes a long train of enormous 
 blue-bodied, canvas-covered wagons, built high and 
 square in the stern, much like a fleet of Dutch galleons, 
 and lumbering in a ponderous way that suggests cargoes 
 of silver and gold. These are drawn by fourteen mules 
 each, who are harnessed in four tiers, the three front 
 tiers of four mules each, and that next the wagon of two. 
 The " lead " mules are wee fellows, veritable mulekins ; 
 the next tier larger, and so on to the two wheel-mules, 
 who are always as large as can be procured. Yonder 
 
90 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 fares slowly another train of wagons, drawn by great 
 wide-horned oxen, whose evident tendency to run to 
 hump and fore-shoulder irresistibly persuades one of 
 their cousinship to the buffalo.) 
 
 i Here, now, comes somewhat that shows as if Birnam 
 Wood had been cut into fagots and was advancing with 
 tipsy swagger upon Dunsinane., Presently one s gazing 
 eye receives a sensation of hair, then of enormous ears, 
 and then the legs appear, of the little roan-gray bourras. 
 or asses, upon whose backs that Mexican walking behind 
 has managed to pile a mass of mesquit firewood that is 
 simply astonishing. > This mesquit is a species of acacia, 
 whose roots and body form the principal fuel here. It 
 yields, by exudation, a gum which is quite equal to gum 
 arabic, when the tannin in it is extracted. It appears 
 to have spread over this portion of Texas within the last 
 twenty-five years, perhaps less time. The old settlers ac 
 count for its appearance by the theory that the Indians 
 and after them the stock-raisers were formerly in 
 the habit of burning off the prairie-grass annually, and 
 that these great fires rendered it impossible for the mes 
 quit shrub to obtain a foothold ; but that now the de 
 parture of the Indians, and the transfer of most of the 
 large cattle-raising business to points further westward, 
 have resulted in leaving the soil free for the occupation 
 of the mesquit. It has certainly taken advantage of the 
 opportunity. It covers the prairie thickly, in many direc 
 tions, as far as the eye can reach, growing to a pretty 
 uniform height of four or five feet though occasionally 
 much larger and presenting, with its tough branches and 
 innumerable formidable thorns, a singular appearance. 
 The wood when dry is exceedingly hard and durable, 
 and of a rich walnut color. This recent overspread of 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 91 
 
 foliage on the plains is supposed by many persons to be 
 the cause of the quite remarkable increase of moisture 
 in the climate of San Antonio which has been observed 
 of late years. The phenomena of the coincident 
 increase of moisture and of mesquit are unquestion 
 able ; but whether they bear the relation of cause and 
 effect, is a question upon which the unscientific lingerers 
 on this bridge may be permitted to hold themselves in 
 reserve. 
 
 i But while we are discussing the mesquit, do but 
 notice yonder Mexican in gorgeous array, promenading, 
 intent upon instant subjugation of all his countrywomen 
 in eye-shot ! j His black trowsers with silver buttons 
 down the seams ; his jaunty hussar-jacket ; his six-inch 
 brimmed felt sombrero, with marvellous silver filigree 
 upon all available spaces of it, save those occupied by 
 the hat-band, which is like two silver snakes tied parallel 
 round the crown ; his red sash, serving at once to sup 
 port the trowsers and to inflate the full white shirt- 
 bosom what Mexicana can resist these things ? And 
 if it happen to be Sunday afternoon yonder comes 
 the German Turnverein t marching in from the San 
 Pedro Springs Park, where they have been twisting 
 themselves among the bars, and playing leap-frog and 
 other honest games what time they emptied a cask of 
 beer. Walking too, as tired men will walk, one sees 
 sundry sportsmen returning from the prairies, where 
 they have been popping away at quail and donkey- 
 rabbits all this blessed Sunday, tin especial notice that 
 old German walking lustily in the middle of the street. 
 He has a rusty gun on his shoulder; his game-bag is 
 bloody and full ; his long white beard and white mous 
 tache float about a face determined, strong, yet jovial. / 
 
92 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 It is Rip Van Winkle in person. " But where is 
 Schneider ?" said one, the day we saw this man - 
 "what a pity he hasn t Schneider with him!" "By 
 Jove, there is Schneider ! " in a moment cried another 
 of the party ; and veritably there he was. He came 
 dashing round the corner, and ran and trotted behind 
 his grizzled master, bearing an enormous donkey-rabbit 
 tied by its legs around his neck. / 
 
 And now as we leave the bridge in the gathering 
 twilight and loiter down the street, we pass all manner 
 of odd personages and " characters." Here hobbles an 
 old Mexican who looks like < old Father Time in reduced 
 circumstances,;his feet, his body, his head all swathed 
 in rags, his face a blur of wrinkles, his beard gray- 
 grizzled a picture of eld such as one will rarely find. 
 There goes a little German boy who was captured a year 
 or two ago by Indians within three miles of San Antonio, 
 and has just been retaken and sent home a few days 
 ago. Do you see that poor Mexican without any hands ? 
 A few months ago a wagon- train was captured by Indians 
 at Howard s Wells ; the teamsters, of whom he was one, 
 were tied to the wagons and these set on fire, and this 
 poor fellow was released by the flames burning off his 
 hands, the rest all perishing save two. Here is a great 
 Indian-fighter who will show you what he calls his 
 "vouchers," being scalps of the red braves he has slain; 
 there a gentleman who blew up his store here in 42 to 
 keep the incoming Mexicans from benefiting by his 
 goods, and who afterwards spent a weary imprisonment 
 in that stern castle of Perote away down in Mexico, 
 where the Mier prisoners (and who ever thinks now-a- 
 days of that strange, bloody Mier Expedition?) were 
 confined ; there a portly, handsome, buccaneer-looking 
 
San Antonio de Bexar 
 
 93 
 
 captain who led the Texans against Cortina in 59 ; 
 there a small, intelligent-looking gentleman who at 
 twenty was first Secretary of War of the young Texan 
 Republic, and who is said to know the history of every 
 thing that has been done in Texas from that time to this 
 minutely; and so on through a perfect gauntlet of 
 people who have odd histories, odd natures, or odd 
 appearances, we reach our hotel. It is time, for the 
 dogs there are far more dogs here than in Constanti 
 nople have begun to howl, and night has closed in 
 upon San Antonio de Bexar. 
 
 1873- 
 
94 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 III 
 
 Confederate Memorial Address 
 
 (Delivered at Macon, Ga., April 26, 1870.) 
 
 IN the unbroken silence of the dead soldierly forms 
 that lie beneath our feet ; in the winding processions of 
 these stately trees ; in the large tranquillity of this vast 
 and benignant heaven that overspreads us ; in the quiet 
 ripple of yonder patient river, flowing down to his death 
 in the sea ; in the manifold melodies drawn from these 
 green leaves by wandering airs that go, like Troubadours, 
 singing in all the lands ; in the many-voiced memories 
 that flock into this day, and fill it, as swallows fill the 
 summer, in all these, there is to me so voluble an 
 eloquence to-day that I cannot but shrink from the 
 harsher sound of my own human voice ; and, if I might 
 but follow where these silver tongues lead me, far rather 
 would I invite your thoughts to their spiritual guidance 
 and keep mine still. Indeed, I will pursue this pref 
 erable course, and so combine my duty as orator and 
 my inclination as man ; for if I have rightly inter 
 preted the sentiment which supports your memorial 
 organization; if I have accurately comprehended the 
 enduring idea about which your society has grown and 
 wound itself, as a vine about some firm pillar of white 
 marble, then, in giving utterance to this most musical 
 converse of death and nature and memory, which goes 
 
Confederate Memorial Address 95 
 
 on in this place by night and by day, so will I best utter 
 those emotions which animate your Association, and 
 which call for some mouthpiece to-day. I take it, the 
 very words which I have employed in describing the 
 elements and circumstances of this scene, do most 
 accurately symbolize and embody the precise virtues 
 which it is the direct tendency of your Association to 
 perpetuate and keep alive in our midst. 
 
 Believe then, that in the few words I have to say, I 
 shall but translate to you that formless and soundless 
 rhetoric of which I spoke in the outset, ay, that 
 majestic oratory of death s silence, of the forests state- 
 liness, of the Heaven s tranquillity, of the river s patience, 
 of the music of winds and leaves, and of the strange 
 commingling of grief and glory and joy that lies in our 
 memories of the days when these men died for liberty. 
 
 . I spoke first of the silence of death. < My country 
 women and countrymen, I know few wants that press 
 upon our modern life with more immediate necessity 
 than the want of this same silence. ; In this culmination 
 of the nineteenth century, which our generation is wit 
 nessing, I tell you the world is far too full of noise. The 
 nineteenth century worships Trade; and Trade is the 
 most boisterous god of all the false gods under Heaven. 
 Hear how his railways do thrill the land with interwoven 
 roaring and yellings ! Hear the clatter of his factories, 
 the clank of his mills, the groaning of his forges, the 
 sputtering and laboring of his water-power ! And that 
 is not half. Listen how he brags, in newspaper and 
 pamphlet and huge placard and poster and advertise 
 ment ! Are not your ears fatigued with his loud bragga 
 docio, with his braggard pretensions, with his stertorous 
 vaunting of himself and his wares ? Nay, in this age of 
 
96 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 noise, the very noise itself, which is usually but the 
 wretched accompaniment of trade, has positively come 
 to have an intrinsic commercial value of its own. It is 
 a fact that some trades succeed by mere force of noise, 
 by mere auctioneer s strength of voice, by mere loudness 
 of stentorian advertisement, without possessing a single 
 other element of recommendation or success. 
 
 Now far be it from me to condemn the sounds of 
 hammer and saw and anvil ; far be it from me to censure 
 advertisements, which form the legitimate appliances of 
 success in trade. I am not here for that to-day. This 
 is not the place or the time to draw the distinction be 
 tween the legitimate and the illegitimate rush of com 
 merce between what is vile brag and what is proper 
 self-assertion in the merchant s advertisement. But I 
 know that there is an evil in all this noise. Out of this 
 universal hubbub there is born a great wrong. A certain 
 old homely phrase expresses this evil in vivid terms : j In 
 these days there is so much noise that we cannot hear 
 ourselves think. 
 
 What time have I to enumerate the signs and evi 
 dences of this evil, of not hearing ourselves think? They 
 are on every hand. (.Crudity, immaturity, unripeness, 
 acidity, instability these things characterize our laws, 
 our literature, all our thought, our politics, our social 
 life, our loves and hates, our self-development. , 
 
 Permit me, then, to felicitate your Memorial Associa 
 tion, because, among many other reasons, one of its 
 immediate consequences is to counteract these evils of 
 noise which I have depicted. You, my countrywomen, 
 invite us once in the year to escape out of the turbu- 
 lencies of trade, and to come here among these silent 
 resting-places of our dead soldiers. You lay a tender 
 
Confederate Memorial Address 97 
 
 finger on the blatant lips of Trade, and bid him be still 
 in the august presence of the dead who speak not. You 
 help us to hear ourselves to think, for a moment. This 
 is well done. If there be in this company one broken 
 heart ; if there be here one who has her dead lying in 
 this cemetery; if there be here one who has learned 
 from silence the divine secret whereby a man may har 
 monize the awful discordant noises of life, I invoke its 
 witness that my words are true, ( that silence is the 
 mother of a thousand radiant graces and rare virtues, 
 and that if one will lean for one hour over these graves 
 of our dead Confederate heroes, there will well up into 
 his soul more 
 
 " Large, divine, and comfortable words " 
 
 than ever fell from living human orator. 
 
 Ah, old comrades who lie sleeping about this yard, 
 beneath tomb and hillock and sculptured pillar, you 
 fought for us in your lives, you died for us in your love, 
 and now if our human voice might float over the dark 
 river to where you are gone on the other side we 
 would cry across to you that still, after death, your un 
 selfish ministrations to us continue; still, after death, 
 your graves send up benignant blessings to our souls; 
 still, after death, your dumb lips answer the tributary 
 flowers that we bring you, with responses and strengthen 
 ing benedictions that rain sweet influence on our dis 
 tracted life. 
 
 For this, my countrywomen who compose this Me 
 morial Association that you enable us to appropriate 
 this after-death beneficence of our silent dead for 
 this, in the name of an age half insane with uproar, I 
 thank you. 
 
 7 
 
98 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 I spoke, next, of the stateliness of the trees, i In these 
 days, stateliness is an antique virtue. This age is not 
 grand ; it is, rather, active. We have substituted adroit 
 ness, in the modern, for the massive strength of the old 
 times. Where the antique man was strong, the modern 
 man is supple ; where the antique man was large, the 
 modern man is keen. In such an age as ours, how ex 
 traordinary was the stately grandeur of those noble 
 figures that arose and moved in splendid procession 
 across the theatre of our Confederate war ! Look with 
 me down the long temple of history, and I will single 
 you out two figures, wherewith I am willing that my 
 beloved land shall front the world, and front all time, 
 as bright, magnificent exemplars of stateliness. Mark 
 them ! Whether their swords gleamed in the hottest 
 smoke of the front of battle, or their peaceful hands 
 waved from the professor s chair, stately always : stately 
 in victory, stately in defeat ; stately among the cannons, 
 stately among the books ; stately in solitude, stately in 
 society; stately in form, in soul, in character, and in 
 action ; ay, each of them, 
 
 " From spur to plume, a star of tournament." 
 
 Do you not know them ? One is still stately in life ; the 
 other lies stately in death. Their two colossal statues 
 are already set up in fame s glittering gallery of the 
 stately souls of time. The convulsive tempests of the 
 war-ocean have lashed and lashed at them, and they 
 have not moved. Multitudinous arrows, shot by the 
 ingenious malignities of a thousand enemies, have fallen 
 blunted from their mighty sides. The insulting ful- 
 minations of tyranny have lightened about their tranquil 
 heads in vain. There they stand, high- reaching, eternal 
 
Confederate Memorial Address 99 
 
 sculptured images of stateliness, in the sight of all the 
 nations. Glory has set but a simple inscription upon 
 them. 
 
 It is the same inscription which love has written on 
 every heart in this land. On one, Robert E. Lee ; and 
 on the other, Stonewall Jackson. 
 
 For this, my countrywomen who compose this Me 
 morial Association that you bring us to contemplate 
 the stateliness of the chiefs, and the stateliness of the 
 unswerving private soldier, who fought or fell in the 
 Confederate war for this, in the name of an age when 
 stateliness is rare, I thank you. 
 
 I spoke next of the tranquillity of the over-spanning 
 heavens. This, too, is a noble quality which your Asso 
 ciation tends to keep alive. Who in all the world needs 
 tranquillity more than we ? I know not a deeper ques 
 tion in our Southern life at this present time, than how 
 we shall bear our load of wrong and injury with the 
 calmness and tranquil dignity that become men and 
 women who would be great in misfortune ; and believe 
 me, I know not where we will draw deeper inspirations 
 of calm strength for this great emergency than in this 
 place where we now stand, in the midst of departed 
 heroes who fought against these things to death. Why, 
 yonder lies my brave, brilliant friend, Lamar ; and yon 
 der, genial Robert Smith ; and yonder, generous Tracy 
 gallant men, all; good knights and stainless gentle 
 men. How calmly they sleep in the midst of it ! Unto 
 this calmness shall we come, at last. If so, why should 
 we disquiet our souls for the petty stings of our con 
 querors? There comes a time when conqueror and 
 conquered shall alike descend into the grave. In that 
 time, O my countrymen, in that time the conqueror 
 
ioo Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 shall be ashamed of his lash, and the conquered shall 
 be proud of his calm endurance ; in that time the con 
 queror shall hide his face, and the conquered shall lift 
 his head with an exultation in his tranquil fortitude 
 which God shall surely pardon ! O happy Lamar, O 
 happy Smith and Tracy, O happy heroes all ! Ye who 
 died whilst liberty was yet a hope in our bosoms, and 
 whilst tyranny was yet only a possible speck on our 
 future ! , If we may not envy you your death, we may at 
 least solace ourselves in the tranquillity of your graves 
 until we, too, shall join you in those regions 
 
 " Where beyond these voices there is peace ! " 
 
 For the contemplation of this tranquillity, my friends 
 of this Association, in the name of a land stung half to 
 madness, I thank you. 
 
 I spoke next of the patient river. See there how it 
 draws on steadily to where it shall mingle with the salt 
 sea and be lost in it, through fair or foul weather, by night 
 and by day, under snow or sunshine, by rugged hill or 
 alluring valley, reckless of obstacle, patient of opposition, 
 unhasting yet unresisting, it moves onward to destruc 
 tion. Was it not like this that these soldiers walked 
 their life of battle, patient through heat and cold, through 
 rain and drought, through bullets and diseases, through 
 hunger and nakedness, through rigor of discipline and 
 laxity of morals, ay, through the very shards and pits 
 of hell, down to the almost inevitable death that awaited 
 them? 
 
 For this, that you bring us to contemplate this vast 
 patience, I commend you. 
 
 And I spoke of the music of winds and leaves. , ; I like 
 to figure every event as a tone, and all events as one 
 
Confederate Memorial Address 101 
 
 many-toned harmony that arises to the great music-master 
 and composer, up yonder.) That the tone of this day 
 may be round and melodious, we come here without 
 resentment, without scorn or hate or any vengeful feeling 
 to mar our love for these dead. That we can do this 
 that we can contemplate these dead faces without un 
 seemly revenges burning in our souls, is to me a most 
 marvellous triumph of divine Christianity. I have had 
 occasion once or twice to speak of certain antique virtues 
 in which the ancients excelled us. Here now, we rise 
 immeasurably above the classic people, on our new wings 
 of divine faith in yonder great Forgiver and great 
 Avenger. Listen to Mark Antony, when he looks upon 
 dead Caesar s face, his murdered friend ! 
 
 " O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, 
 That I am meek and gentle with these butchers I 
 
 Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood ! 
 Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, 
 Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips 
 To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue, 
 A curse shall light upon the limbs of men ; 
 Domestic fury and fierce civil strife 
 Shall cumber all the parts of Italy ; 
 Blood and destruction shall be so in use, 
 And dreadful objects so familiar 
 That mothers shall but smile, when they behold 
 Their infants quartered with the hands of war ; 
 All pity choked with custom of fell deeds ; 
 And Caesar s spirit, ranging for revenge, 
 With Ate by his side come hot from hell, 
 Shall in these confines with a monarch s voice 
 Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war." 
 
 So, Mark Antony ; but not so gaze we upon our dead. 
 To-day we are here for love and not for hate. To-day 
 
102 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 we are here for harmony and not for discord. To 
 day we are risen immeasurably above all vengeance. 
 To-day, standing upon the serene heights of forgiveness, 
 our souls choir together the enchanting music of har 
 monious Christian civilization. To-day we will not dis 
 turb the peaceful slumbers of these sleepers with music 
 less sweet than the serenade of loving remembrances, 
 breathing upon our hearts as the winds of heaven 
 breathe upon these swaying leaves above us. 
 
 Lastly, I spoke of the memories that throng this 
 day and this place. Here, my heart and my tongue fail 
 me. In the presence of these mighty remembrances of 
 those strange, sad, glorious moments when the land was 
 full of war, I falter. Who is here that needs help to 
 recall the glory of those days when young Liberty sailed 
 in front of our arms, and her radiant eyes beamed upon 
 our victorious armies, as a maiden s upon her lover in the 
 first blush of love? Who is here that needs help to 
 recall the suffering that followed those early victories, the 
 stern endurance of defeat, the sickness of long apprehen 
 sion, the weariness of prolonged expectancy, the hard 
 ships of straitened circumstance, the broodings of love 
 over beloved ones absent in battle, the hope, the fear, 
 the prayer, the tear, the frequent agony? Who is here 
 that needs help to recall the dreadful thrill of that last 
 blow, when the land, like a strong man stricken, bowed 
 head and shrouded face in mantle and wept, knowing 
 beyond doubt that it could not be free ? 
 
 To these memories I commend you, as you proceed 
 to your reverent employment. They exhale from these 
 graves to meet and greet the fragrance of your flowers. 
 
 Before I leave you to your most loving task, I have 
 one word which these departed soldiers, if they were in 
 
Confederate Memorial Address 103 
 
 life, would certainly wish to be spoken. I know that I 
 am here to-day as your representative, to honor my dead 
 comrades, but now I take heart of grace, and I become 
 for this brief moment the representative of my dead 
 comrades to honor you. My countrywomen, these men 
 who have gone into the silent land, these men also 
 have their memories of the war, which they have carried 
 with them. I speak for them when I thank you that for 
 every wound, and by every sick-bed, in camp and hospi 
 tal and home, there came the white hand of woman, 
 soothing and tending and comforting. I speak for them, 
 when I thank you that there was no brave man in battle 
 who did not receive the liberal glory of your woman s 
 smile for his reward, and that there was no coward in 
 battle whom your woman s soul did not frown into merited 
 contempt. I speak for them, when I thank you for a 
 myriad graces that beamed from you in a time of dark 
 ness for a myriad tendernesses in a time of cruelty 
 for a myriad kindnesses in a time wild with revenge. I 
 speak for them, when I thank you for this annual tribute 
 of the early glories of the spring which you bring to lay 
 upon their graves. O, ye bright companies of the 
 martyrs of liberty ! O, ye glittering battalions of the 
 dead that died in glory ! O, ye stately chieftains that 
 lead in Heaven as ye led on earth ! One day ye shall 
 witness for yourselves, in burning acclamations of grati 
 tude, how ye remember, and how ye shall eternally re 
 member, the uncorrupted souls, the gracious hearts, the 
 brave characters, the stainless eyes, the radiant smiles 
 and the tender fingers of the women who glorified and 
 sanctified the Southern Confederacy ! 
 
IO4 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 IV 
 
 The New South 
 
 IT would seem that facts may now be arrayed which 
 leave no doubt that upon the general cycle of American 
 advance the South has described such an epicycle of 
 individual growth that no profitable discussion of that 
 region is possible at present which does not clearly 
 define at the outset whether it is to be a discussion 
 of the old South or the new South. Although the 
 movement here called by the latter name is originally 
 neither political, social, moral, nor aesthetic, yet the 
 term in the present instance connotes all these with 
 surprising completeness. The New South means small 
 farming. 
 
 What Southern small farming really signifies, and how 
 it has come to involve and determine the whole com 
 pass of civilization in that part of the republic, this 
 paper proposes to show, (i) by briefly pointing out its 
 true relation, in its last or (what one may call, its) poetic 
 outcome, to the " large farming" now so imminent in 
 the Northwest; (2) by presenting some statistics of 
 the remarkable increase in the number of Southern 
 small farms from 1860 to 1870, together with some 
 details of the actual cultures and special conditions 
 thereof; and (3) by contrasting with it a picture of 
 large farming in England three hundred years ago. In 
 deed, one has only to recall how the connection between 
 
The New South 105 
 
 marriage and the price of corn is but a crude and partial 
 statement of the intimate relation between politics, 
 social life, morality, art, on the one hand, and the bread- 
 giver earth on the other; one has only to remember 
 that, particularly here in America, whatever crop we 
 hope to reap in the future, whether it be a crop of 
 poems, of paintings, of symphonies, of constitutional safe 
 guards, of virtuous behaviors, of religious exaltations, 
 we have got to bring it out of the ground with palpable 
 ploughs and with plain farmer s forethought : in order to 
 see that a vital revolution in the farming economy of 
 the South, if it is actually occurring, is necessarily carry 
 ing with it all future Southern politics and Southern social 
 relations and Southern art, and that, therefore, such an 
 agricultural change is the one substantial fact upon 
 which any really new South can be predicated. 
 
 Approached from this direction, the quiet rise of the 
 small farmer in the Southern States during the last 
 twenty years becomes the notable circumstance of the 
 period, in comparison with which noisier events signify 
 nothing. 
 
 As just now hinted, small farming in the South be 
 comes clear in its remoter bearings when seen over 
 against the precisely opposite tendency toward large 
 farming in the West. Doubtless recent reports of this 
 tendency have been sometimes exaggerated. In read 
 ing them, one has been obliged to remember that small 
 minds love to bring large news, and, failing a load, will 
 make one. But certainly enough appears, if only in the 
 single apparently well-authenticated item of the tempt 
 ing profits realized by some of the great northwestern 
 
106 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 planters, to authorize the inference that the tendency to 
 cultivate wheat on enormous farms, where the economies 
 possible only to corporation-management can secure the 
 greatest yield with the least expense, is a growing one. 
 
 And, this being so, the most rapid glance along the 
 peculiar details of the northwestern large farm opens 
 before us a path of thought which quickly passes beyond 
 wheat-raising, and leads among all those other means of 
 life which appertain to this complex creature who cannot 
 live by bread alone. For instance, classify, as a social 
 and moral factor, a farm like the Grandin place, near 
 Fargo, where 4,855 acres are sown in wheat; where five 
 hands do all the work during the six winter months, 
 while as many as two hundred and fifty must be em 
 ployed in midsummer; where the day s work is nearly 
 thirteen hours ; where, out of the numerous structures for 
 farm purposes, but two have any direct relation to man, 
 one a residence for the superintendent and foreman, 
 the other a boarding-house for the hands; where no 
 women, children, nor poultry are to be seen ; where the 
 economies are such as are wholly out of the power of 
 the small wheat-raisers, insomuch that even the railways 
 can give special rates for grain coming in such conven 
 ient large quantities ; where the steam machine, the 
 telephone, and the telegraph are brought to the last 
 degree of skilful service ; where, finally, the net profits 
 for the current year are $5 2, 239. l 
 
 It appears plainly enough from these details that, 
 looked upon from the midst of all those associations 
 which cluster about the idea of the farm, large farming 
 is not farming at all. It is mining for wheat. 
 
 1 According to an anonymous writer in The Atlantic Monthly, 
 January, 1880. 
 
The New South 107 
 
 Or a slight change in the point of view presents it as 
 a manufacturing business, in which clods are fed to the 
 mill, and grain appears in carloads at Chicago. And 
 perhaps the most exact relations of this large farming to 
 society in general are to be drawn by considering such 
 farmers as corporations, their laborers as mill-operatives 
 for six months in each year and tramps for the other six, 
 their farms as mills where nature mainly turns the wheel, 
 their investment as beyond the reach of strikes or fires, 
 foreign distress their friend, and the world s hunger their 
 steady customer. 
 
 It appears further that, while such agricultural com 
 munities are so merely in name and are manufacturing 
 communities in fact, they are manufacturing communi 
 ties only as to the sterner features of that guild, the 
 order, the machine, the minimum of expense, the maxi 
 mum of product, and not as to those pleasanter 
 features, the school-house, the church, the little working- 
 men s library, the sewing-class, the cookery-class, the 
 line of promotion, the rise of the bright boy and the 
 steady workman, all the gentler matters which will 
 spring up, even out of the dust-heaps, about any spot 
 where men have the rudest abiding-place. On the large 
 farm is no abiding-place ; the laborer must move on ; 
 life cannot stand still, to settle and clarify. 
 
 It would not seem necessary to disclaim any design to 
 inveigh against the owners of these great factory- farms, 
 if indignation had not been already expressed in such a 
 way as to oblige one to declare that no obligations can 
 be cited, as between them and their laborers, which 
 would not equally apply to every manufacturer. If it is 
 wrong to discharge all but ten laborers when only ten 
 are needed, then the mill-owners of Massachusetts must 
 
io8 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 be held bound to run day and night when the market is 
 over-stocked because they ran so when it was booming ; 
 and if it is criminal to pay the large- farm hands no more 
 than will hardly support them for thirteen hours work, 
 every mill-company in the world which pays market 
 rates for work is particeps. But, with the coast thus 
 cleared of personality ; with the large farm thus classed 
 as a manufacturing company in all its important inci 
 dents; and recognizing in the fullest manner that, if 
 wheat can be made most cheaply in this way, it must be 
 so made : a very brief train of thought brings us upon a 
 situation, as between the small farmer on the one hand 
 and the corporation on the other, which reveals them as 
 embodying two tendencies in the republic at this mo 
 ment whose relations it is the business of statesman 
 ship and of citizenship to understand with the utmost 
 clearness, since we are bound to foster both of them. 
 
 For, if we stop our ears to the noisy child s-play of 
 current politics, and remember (i) that in all ages and 
 countries two spirits, or motives, or tendencies exist 
 which are essentially opposed to each other, but both of 
 which are necessary to the state ; (2) that the problem 
 of any given period or society is to recognize the 
 special forms in which these two tendencies are then 
 and there embodying themselves, and to keep them 
 in such relations that neither shall crush, while each 
 shall healthily check, the other; (3) that these tenden 
 cies may be called the spirit of control and the spirit of 
 independence, and that they are so intimately con 
 nected with the two undeniable facts which lie at the 
 bottom of moral behavior namely, the facts of influ 
 ence from without, on the one hand, and free will on 
 the other that the questions of morals and of politics 
 
The New South 109 
 
 coalesce at their roots; (4) that these two tendencies 
 are now most tangibly embodied among us in the 
 corporation and the small farmer the corporation 
 representing the spirit of control, and the small farmer 
 representing, in many curious ways, the spirit of inde 
 pendence ; (5 ) that our republic vitally needs the 
 corporation for the mighty works which only the 
 corporation can do, while it as vitally needs the small 
 farmer for the pure substance of individual and self- 
 reliant manhood which he digs out of the ground, and 
 which, the experience of all peoples would seem to 
 show, must primarily come that way and no other : we 
 are bound to conclude that the practical affair in the 
 United States at the present juncture is to discover how 
 we may cherish at once the corporation and the small 
 farmer into the highest state of competitive activity, less 
 by constitution-straining laws which forbid the corpor 
 ation to do this and that, or which coddle the small 
 farmer with sop and privilege, than by affording free 
 scope for both to adjust themselves, and by persistently 
 holding sound moral principles to guide the adjustment. 
 When, therefore, we behold the large farm as a 
 defection from the farm-party in general which repre 
 sents individuality in the state over to the corporation- 
 party, whose existence is necessarily based upon such 
 relations to employees as impair their individuality, we 
 regard with all the more interest the rise of the small 
 farmer, now occurring in an opposite direction so oppor 
 tunely as to seem as if nature herself were balancing the 
 Northwest l with the Southeast. 
 
 1 Always with the saving clause : if the Northwest is really 
 tending, on the whole, toward large farming; which certainly 
 seems true, yet is not sufficiently clear to be argued upon, save 
 with prudent reservations. 
 
no Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 II 
 
 THE phrase " small farming," used of the South, crops 
 out in directions curious enough to one unacquainted 
 with the special economies and relations of existence in 
 that part of our country. While large farming in the 
 South means exclusive cotton-growing, as it means in 
 the West exclusive wheat-growing or exclusive corn- 
 growing, small farming means diversified farm-pro 
 ducts ; and a special result of the Southern conditions of 
 agriculture has brought about a still more special sense 
 of the word, so that in Georgia, for example, the term 
 " small farmer " brings up to every native mind the idea 
 of a farmer who, besides his cotton crop, raises corn 
 enough to "do" him. But again, the incidents hinging 
 upon this apparently simple matter of making corn 
 enough to do him are so numerous as, in turn, to render 
 them the distinctive feature of small farming. Small 
 farming means, in short, meat and bread for which there 
 are no notes in bank ; pigs fed with home-made corn, 
 and growing of themselves while the corn and cotton 
 were being tended ; yarn spun, stockings knit, butter 
 made and sold (instead of bought) ; eggs, chickens, 
 peaches, watermelons, the four extra sheep and a little 
 wool, two calves and a beef, all to sell every year, be 
 sides a colt who is now suddenly become, all of himself, 
 a good, serviceable horse ; the four oxen, who are as 
 good as gifts made by the grass ; and a hundred other 
 items, all representing income from a hundred sources to 
 the small farmer, which equally represent outgo to the 
 large farmer, items, too, scarcely appearing at all on 
 the expense side of the strictest account-book, because 
 they are either products of odd moments which, if not 
 
The New South 1 1 1 
 
 so applied, would not have been at all applied, or pro 
 ducts of natural animal growth, and grass at nothing a 
 ton. All these ideas are inseparably connected with 
 that of the small farmer in the South. 
 
 The extent of this diversity of product possible upon 
 a single small farm in Georgia, for instance, and the 
 certain process by which we find these diversified pro 
 ducts presently creating demands for the village library, 
 the neighborhood farmers -club, the amateur Thespian 
 society, the improvement of the public schools, the vil 
 lage orchestra, all manner of betterments and gentilities 
 and openings out into the universe : show significantly, 
 and even picturesquely, in a mass of clippings which I 
 began to make a couple of years ago, from a number of 
 country papers in Georgia, upon the idea that these un- 
 considered trifles of mere farmers neighborhood news, 
 with no politics behind them and no argumentative 
 coloring in front of them, would form the best possible 
 picture of actual small- farm life in the South that is, 
 of the New South. 
 
 To read these simple and homely scraps is indeed 
 much like a drive among the farms themselves with the 
 ideal automaton guide, who confines himself to telling 
 you that this field is sugar-cane, that one yonder is 
 cotton, the other is rice, and so on, without troubling 
 you for responsive exclamations or other burdensome 
 commentary. 
 
 Rambling among these cuttings, one sees growing side 
 by side, possibly upon a single small farm, corn, wheat, 
 rice, sugar-cane, cotton, peaches, plums, apples, pears, 
 figs, watermelons, cantaloupes, musk-melons, cherries, 
 strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, Catawba grapes, 
 Isabellas, Scuppernongs, peas, snap-beans, butter-beans. 
 
H2 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 okra, squash, beets, oyster-plant, mustard, cress, cabbage, 
 turnips, tomatoes, cauliflower, asparagus, potatoes, 
 onions ; one does not fail, too, to catch a glimpse of pigs 
 sauntering about, chickens singing, colts flinging their 
 heels at you and off down the pasture, calves likewise, 
 cows caring not for these things, sheep on the rising 
 ground, geese and turkeys passim, perhaps the green- 
 gray moss surely designed by nature to pack vegeta 
 bles in and send them "North," a very bed of dew 
 for many days after cutting, and the roses and morning- 
 glories everywhere for a benison. 
 
 The first clipping which comes to hand is a cunning 
 commentary, expressed in facts, upon the diversified- 
 culture aspect of small farming. Perhaps every one who 
 has heard the results of premium awards read out at 
 county fairs will have noticed how often a single name 
 will recur in the same list as premium taker : For the 
 best corn John Smith ; for the best sample of oats 
 John Smith ; for the best lot of pigs John Smith ; for 
 the finest colt John Smith ; and so on. The relation 
 of cause and effect, as between small farming and such 
 success, is direct. Small farming makes so many edges 
 cut at once that many things are obliged to result. And 
 so one is not surprised to see, in this item concerning 
 the fair of the Marshallville Agricultural Society (Mar- 
 shallville is in what is known as southwestern Georgia, 
 a cotton-growing portion of the State), the name of Mr. 
 J. M. coming up in many varied connections ; nor is one 
 surprised to find, upon inquiry, that the same gentleman 
 is a small farmer, who commenced work after the war with 
 his own hands, not a dollar in his pocket, and now owns 
 his plantation, has it well stocked, no mortgage or debt 
 of any kind on it, and a little money to lend. 
 
The New South 113 
 
 "The attendance was very large," says the clipping. 
 " . . . Number of ... exhibitors much larger than 
 last year. . . . 
 
 " PREMIUMS AWARDED. For the largest and best dis 
 play of field crops and garden products by single planter 
 J- M. 
 
 " For the largest and best display of stock by a single 
 planter J. M. 
 
 " For the best display of old home-raised side meat 
 and hams, old home-raised corn and fodder, home-raised 
 flour, corn meal, syrup, and one quart ley hominy made 
 of old corn J. M. 
 
 " Special mention is made of the fact that M. J. M. 
 had on exhibition one hundred different articles." 
 
 And then we are given the " honorable mention " of 
 " field-crops," which without taking up space with names 
 of successful exhibitors may be cited here, so far as the 
 crops are concerned, as partly indicating the diversified 
 products customary in one narrow neighborhood of 
 small farmers. Thus, a premium (" honorable mention "j 
 was given to the " best corn, . . . best stalk of cotton, 
 . . . best upland rice, . . . best cleaned wheat, . . . 
 best cleaned oats, . . . best cleaned barley, . . . best 
 cleaned rye, . . . best ribbon sugar-cane, . . . best 
 golden-rod cane, . . . best chufas, . . . best ground 
 peas (peanuts), . . . best field-peas." 
 
 And so, looking along through this batch of items, - 
 which surely never dreamed of finding themselves to 
 gether, one gathers a great number of circumstances 
 illustrating the small farm of Georgia from various points 
 of view. One hears, for instance, how the people of 
 Thomas County (southern Georgia) are now busy gather 
 ing, packing, and forwarding the sand pear to Boston and 
 
 8 
 
H4 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 New York (the sand pear, or Le Conte pear, is a lus 
 cious variety which has recently been pushed with great 
 success among the sandy lands of lower Georgia ; the en 
 tire stock is said to have come from one tree on the Le 
 Conte plantation in Liberty County the same farm 
 which sent out a further notable product in the per 
 sons of the two illustrious professors John and Joseph Le 
 Conte, now of the University of California) how last 
 week thirty bushels of pears were obtained from the old 
 tree mentioned in the preceding clause ; how southern 
 Georgia is making sugar-cane a leading crop ; how Mr. 
 Anthony (in Bibb County, middle Georgia) has twenty- 
 eight varieties of grapes growing on a few acres, and has 
 just introduced a new variety; how Bartow County 
 (above Atlanta) shipped 225,000 pounds of dried 
 apples and peaches last seasgn ; how over 15,000 pounds 
 of wool have been received during the last four days at 
 one warehouse in Albany (southwest Georgia), while in 
 Quitman (same portion) our streets are constantly 
 thronged with carts laden with wool from Colquitt and 
 Berrien and Lowndes counties this wool being, it 
 should be added, the product of small farmers who 
 " raise " many other things ; how the common sheep is 
 an extremely profitable beast, it being but a sorry speci 
 men which will not furnish one lamb and two and a half 
 pounds of wool per annum, which lamb will sell for two 
 dollars while the wool will bring nearly another dollar, 
 and all for no tendance except a little rice-straw and 
 cotton-seed during the yeaning season, together with 
 careful folding at night ; how and here the connection 
 with small farming is only apparently remote a library 
 society is being organized in Milledgeville, while in 
 another town the " Advertiser " is making a vigorous 
 
The New South 115 
 
 call for a library, and in a third the library has recently 
 received many additions of books, and in a fourth an 
 amateur Thespian corps has just been formed, consisting 
 of five ladies and fourteen gentlemen, whose first per 
 formance is to be early in July ; how there are curious 
 correlations between sheep, whiskey, public schools, and 
 dogs, the State school commissioner vigorously advo 
 cating the Moffett bell-punch system of tax on liquor 
 and a tax on dogs (of which, I find from another slip, 
 there are 99,414 in the State, destroying annually 28,625 
 of the small farmers sheep), for the purpose of increas 
 ing the school fund to a million dollars annually ; how, 
 at the Atlanta University for colored people, which is 
 endowed by the State, the progress of the pupils, the 
 clearness of their recitations, their excellent behavior, 
 and the remarkable neatness of their schoolrooms alto 
 gether convince " your committee that the colored race 
 . . . are capable of receiving the education usually 
 given at such institutions ; " how last Thursday a neigh 
 borhood club of small farmers, on Walnut Creek (near 
 Macon) , celebrated the fifth anniversary of the club by 
 meeting under the trees, with their wives and children, 
 recounting in turn how many acres each had in cotton, 
 how many in corn, how many in potatoes, how many in 
 peas, etc., and discussing these matters and a barbecue, 
 a sub-committee bringing in a joking report with 
 shrewd hits at the behindhand members, as that we 
 found on Mr. W. s farm the best gourd-crop, and on 
 Mr. R. s some acres of very remarkable "bumble-bee 
 cotton," the peculiarity of which cotton is that the bee 
 can sit upon the ground and " exultantly sip from the 
 tallest cotton-bloom on the plant ; " how at a somewhat 
 similar gathering the yeomen brought out the great Jones 
 
1 1 6 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 County soup pot, the same being an eighty-gallon syrup 
 kettle, in which the soup began to boil on the night be 
 fore and was served next day, marvellous rich and 
 toothsome, to the company; how the single item of 
 watermelons has brought nearly $100,000 into Richmond 
 County this season, and how Mr. J., of Baker County 
 in quite another part of the State has just raised ten 
 watermelons weighing together five hundred and fifty 
 pounds; how Mr. R., of Schley County (in cotton- 
 raising southwestern Georgia), has made five hundred 
 and fifty-six bushels of oats on a five-acre patch ; how 
 the writer has just seen a six-acre crop of upland rice 
 which will yield thirty bushels to the acre ; how a party 
 of two hundred and fifty colored excursionists came up 
 to town yesterday, and the colored brass band played 
 about the streets ; or, in another slip a column long, how 
 Governor Colquitt reviews seven colored companies of 
 Georgia soldiery in full uniform, who afterward contest 
 in a prize drill, and at night are entertained with par 
 ties, balls, and the like, by the Union Lincoln Guards, of 
 Savannah, and the Lincoln Guards, of Macon ; how 
 (this is headed " Agriculture Advancing ") the last few 
 years has witnessed a very decided improvement in 
 Georgia farming : moon-planting and other vulgar super 
 stitions are exploding, the intelligent farmer is deriving 
 more assistance from the philosopher, the naturalist, and 
 the chemist, and he who is succeeding best is he who 
 has plenty of horses, cattle, sheep, hogs, and poultry of 
 his own raising, together with good-sized barns and 
 meat-houses filled from his own fields instead of from 
 the West, in short, the small farmer. 
 
 Fortunately, we have means for reducing to very defi 
 nite figures the growth of small farming in the South 
 
The New South 117 
 
 since the war, and thus of measuring the substance of 
 the New South. A row of columns in the eighth and 
 ninth census reports of the United States is devoted to 
 enumerations of the number of farms in each State and 
 county of given sizes ; and a proper comparison thereof 
 yields us facts of great significance to the present in 
 quiry. For example, taking the State of Georgia : we 
 find that, while in 1860 it had but 906 farms of under 
 ten acres, in 1870 it had 3,527 such farms; in 1860, 
 but 2,803 farms of over ten acres and under twenty 
 acres, in 1870, 6,942 such farms; in 1860, but 
 13,644 farms of over twenty and under fifty acres, in 
 1870, 21,971 such farms; in 1860, but 14,129 farms of 
 over fifty and under one hundred acres, in 1870, 
 18,371 such farms. Making a total of all these sub 
 classes, considered as small farms in general, and 
 subtracting that for 1860 from that for 1870, we reach 
 the instructive fact that, in some five years preceding 
 1870, the increase in the number of small farms in the 
 State of Georgia was 19,329. 
 
 In the State of Mississippi the increase is in some par 
 ticulars more striking than that in Georgia. By the 
 census report, Mississippi had in 1860 only 563 farms of 
 over three but under ten acres, 2,516 of over ten but 
 under twenty, 10,967 of between twenty and fifty, and 
 9,204 of between fifty and one hundred; while in 1870 
 it had 11,003 farms of the first-mentioned size, 8,981 of 
 the second, 26,048 of the third, and 11,967 of the 
 fourth; in short, a total gain of 34,749 small farms be 
 tween 1860 and 1870. 
 
 The political significance of these figures is great. 
 To a large extent exactly how large I have in vain 
 sought means to estimate they represent the transition 
 
1 1 8 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 of the negro from his attitude as negro to an attitude as 
 small farmer, an attitude in which his interests, his 
 hopes, and consequently his politics, become identical 
 with those of all other small farmers, whether white or 
 black. 
 
 Nothing seems more sure than that an entirely new 
 direction of cleavage in the structure of Southern polity 
 must come with the wholly different aggregation of 
 particles implied in this development of small farming. 
 
 In the identical aims of the small- farmer class, what 
 ever now remains of the color-line must surely disappear 
 out of the Southern political situation. This class, consist 
 ing as it already does of black small- farmers and white 
 small-farmers, must necessarily be a body of persons 
 whose privileges, needs, and relations are not those which 
 exist as between the black man on the one hand and the 
 white man on the other, but those which exist as be 
 tween the small farmer on the one hand and whatever 
 affects small farming on the other. For here as can 
 not be too often said the relation of politics to agri 
 culture is that of the turnip-top to the turnip. 
 
 This obliteration of the color-line could be reduced to 
 figures if we knew the actual proportion of the new 
 small farms held by negroes. Though, as already re 
 marked, data are here wanting, yet the matter emerges 
 into great distinctness if we select certain counties 
 where the negro population was very large in 1860, and 
 compare the number of small farms in those counties 
 for 1860 with the number for 1870. 
 
 This exhibit grows all the more close if we confine it 
 to very small farms, such as the colored people have 
 been able to acquire since the war by lease or purchase, 
 and thus make it indicate certainly in part the 
 
The New South 119 
 
 accession to the number of small farmers from that 
 source. 
 
 Consider, for example, the figures which stand oppo 
 site the name of Liberty County, Georgia, in Table VII. 
 of the census report for 1870, as compared with those 
 for 1860, directing the attention to but two classes of 
 farms those over three but under ten acres, and those 
 over ten but under twenty. Liberty, it may be remarked, 
 was in 1860 a county producing mainly sea- island cotton 
 and rice, from large farms inhabited or owned by many 
 of the oldest and wealthiest families of the State. In 
 the year 1860, according to the report, it had eighteen 
 farms of over three but under ten acres, and thirty-five 
 of over ten but under twenty. In 1870 we find these 
 figures changed to 616 farms of over three but under 
 ten acres, and 749 farms of over ten but under twenty 
 acres. In Camden County a county penetrated by 
 the Satilla River through its whole length, and before the 
 war mainly covered with great rice-plantations the 
 increase is nearly as striking, though the figures are 
 smaller. Here, in 1860, were but three farms of over 
 three and under ten acres, and but five of over ten and 
 under twenty acres; while in 1870 the former class of 
 farms had increased to 189, and the latter to 136. 
 Chatham County in which Savannah is situated 
 shows a similarly enormous increase, though here a 
 number of the small farms represent an immigration of 
 white " truck- farmers," raising vegetables for the North 
 ern market, a business which has largely grown in that 
 neighborhood since the war, with the increased facilities 
 offered by fast and often-running steamers from Savan 
 nah to New York. 
 
 Considering the case of Liberty County: the 1,365 
 
i2o Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 small farms of 1870 (that is, the total of both sizes of 
 farms above mentioned) against the fifty-three of 1860 
 may be considered so far as I know largely repre 
 sentative of accessions of negroes to the ranks of the 
 small farmer. For, though these colored farmers hire 
 out at times, yet their own little patches of varied pro 
 ducts are kept up, and they are as is, indeed, com 
 plained of sadly enough by larger farmers in want of 
 hands independent of such hiring. 
 
 Here one of my slips, cut from a sea-coast paper 
 while this article is being written in February, 1880 
 gives a statement of affairs in Liberty County, which, 
 coming ten years later than the 1870 census report last 
 quoted from, is particularly helpful. After stating that a 
 very large area of rice was planted last year, and a still 
 larger area this year that the price of rice is $1.15 a 
 bushel, and the average yield thirty bushels to the acre, 
 at which figures the farmers plant but little cotton the 
 writer adds : 
 
 " If the farmer of Liberty County could control the negro 
 labor, she would soon become one of the richest counties of 
 South Georgia; but there comes in the trouble. The 
 negroes, most of them, have bought a small tract of land, 
 ten acres or more, and they can make enough rice on it to 
 be perfectly independent of the white man. If he hires one, 
 he has to pay him his price, which is not less than fifty 
 cents per day; but, with all that, the county seems to be 
 thriving." 
 
 It does not seem possible to doubt, in the light of 
 these considerations, that there is, in Georgia at least, a 
 strong class of small farmers which powerfully tends to 
 obliterate color from politics, in virtue of its merger of 
 all conflicting elements into the common interest of a 
 common agricultural pursuit. 
 
The New South 121 
 
 I find my slips much occupied with a machine which, 
 if promises hold, is to play an important part in the New 
 South. This is the " Clement Attachment," which pro 
 poses not only to gin the cotton without breaking the 
 fibre, but with the same motive-power spins it, thus at 
 one process converting seed-cotton into cotton-yarn. 
 The saving in such a process embraces a dozen methods 
 of expense and waste by the old process, and would be 
 no less than enormous. 
 
 But it is not only the product which comes out as 
 cotton- yarn that is valuable. The cotton-seed are them 
 selves, in various ways, sources of revenue. One of 
 these ways and one which has grown greatly in im 
 portance of late years is referred to in the following 
 slip : 
 
 " The cotton-seed oil factories in New Orleans are reaping 
 this fall a golden harvest. . . . Every 45o-pound bale of 
 cotton, when ginned, yields about half a ton (1,100 pounds) 
 of seed, which are sold to the factories at $15 per ton. Here 
 the oil is expressed and the refuse is sold as oil-cake 
 chiefly exported to Europe for stock food, and used by the 
 sugar planters as a fertilizer. Before expressing the seed, 
 they are first linted and hulled. The lint extracted is sold 
 to the white-paper factories, and the hulls are used for fuel 
 and as fertilizers." 
 
 Of course it remains to be seen whether all these fine 
 things will be done by the Clement mills. Some of my 
 slips show scepticism, a few, faith. It must be said that 
 the stern experiences of the last fifteen years have inclined 
 the New South to be, in general, doubtful of anything 
 which holds out great promises at first. A cunning indi 
 cation of such tendencies comes upon the principle 
 of like master, like man in one of the cuttings before 
 me (from the Atlanta "Constitution"), which records 
 
122 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 the practical views of Uncle Remus, a famous colored 
 philosopher of Atlanta, who is a fiction so founded upon 
 fact and so like it as to have passed into true citizenship 
 and authority, along with Bottom and Autolycus. This 
 is all the more worth giving since it is real negro-talk, 
 and not that supposititious negro-minstrel talk which so 
 often goes for the original. It is as nearly perfect as any 
 dialect can well be ; and if one had only some system of 
 notation by which to convey the tones of the speaking 
 voice in which Brer l Remus and Brer Ab would say 
 these things, nothing could be at once more fine in 
 humor and pointed in philosophy. Negroes on the 
 corner can be heard any day engaged in talk that at 
 least makes one think of Shakespeare s clowns ; but half 
 the point and flavor is in the subtle tone of voice, the 
 gesture, the glance, and these, unfortunately, cannot be 
 read between the lines by any one who has not studied 
 them in the living original. 
 
 " Brer Remus, is you heern tell er deze doin s out here in 
 de udder end er town ? " 
 
 " Wat doin s is dat, Brer Ab ? " 
 
 " Deze yer signs an wunders whar dat cullud lady died day 
 fo yistiddy. Mighty quare goin s on out dar, Brer Remus, 
 sho s you bawn." 
 
 "Sperrits?" 
 
 " Wuss n dat, Brer Remus. Some say dat jedgment-day 
 aint fur off, an de folks is flockin roun de house, a-holler- 
 in an a-shoutin like dey wuz in er revival. In de winder- 
 glass dar you kin see de flags a-flyin , an Jacob s ladder is 
 dar, an dar s writin on de pane what no man can t read 
 leastwise, dey aint none read it yet." 
 
 " Wat kinder racket is dis youer givin me now, Brer Ab ? " 
 
 " I done bin dur, Brer Remus ; I done seed um wid bofe 
 my eyes. Cullud lady what was intranced done woke up an 
 
 1 Anglice, Brother. 
 
The New South 123 
 
 say dey aint much time fer ter tarry. She say she meet er 
 angel in de road, an he p inted straight fur de mornin star 
 an tell her fer ter prepar . Hit look mighty cu us, Brer 
 Remus." 
 
 " Come down ter dat, Brer Ab," said Uncle Remus, wiping 
 his spectacles carefully and re-adjusting them, " cum down 
 ter dat, an dey aint nuthin that aint cu us. I aint no spic- 
 ious nigger myse f, but I spizes fer ter hear dogs a-howlin 
 an squinch owls havin de ager out in de woods, an* w en a 
 bull goes a-bellerin by de house, den my bones git cole an 
 my flesh commences fer ter creep ; but w en it comes ter 
 deze yer sines in de a r an deze yer sperrits in de woods, den 
 I m out den I m done. I is, fer a fac . I been livin yer 
 more n seventy year, an I hear talk er niggers seein ghos es 
 all times er night an all times er day, but I aint never seed 
 none yit; an deze yer flags and Jacob s lathers, I aint seed 
 dem, nudder." 
 
 " Dey er dar, Brer Remus." 
 
 " Hit s des like I tell you, Brer Ab. I aint sputin bout 
 it, but I aint seed urn, an I don t take no chances, deze days, 
 on dat w at I don t see, an dat w at I sees I gotter zamine 
 mighty close. Lemme tell you dis, Brer Ab. Don t you let 
 deze sines onsettle you. W en ole man Gabrile toot his ho n, 
 he aint gwinter hang no sine out in de winder-panes, an w en 
 ole Fadder Jacob lets down dat lather er hisn you 11 be mighty 
 ap fer ter hear de racket. An don t you bodder wid jedg- 
 ment-day. Jedgment-day is lierbul fer ter take keer un 
 itse f." 
 
 11 Dat s so, Brer Remus." 
 
 " Hit s bleedzed ter be so, Brer Ab. Hit don t bother me. 
 Hit s done got so now dat w en I gotter pone er bread, an 
 a rasher er bacon, an nuff grease ter make gravy, I aint 
 keerin fer much wedder folks sees ghos es or no." 
 
 These concluding sentiments of Brer Remus would 
 serve very accurately as an expression of the attitude of 
 the small farmer not only in the South, but elsewhere 
 toward many of the signs and ghosts and judgment- 
 days with which the careful politician must fight the 
 
124 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 possible loss of public attention. There may be signs of 
 danger to the republic ; there may be ghosts of dreadful 
 portent stalking around the hustings and through the 
 Capitol corridors ; and Judgment-day may be coming, 
 to this or that representative or functionary; but 
 meantime it is clear that we small farmers will have 
 nothing to eat unless we go into the field and hoe the 
 corn and feed the hogs. By the time this is done, 
 night comes on, and, being too tired to sit up until 
 twelve o clock for a sight of the ghost, we go to bed 
 soon after supper, and sleep without sign or dream till 
 the sun calls us forth again to the corn and the hogs. 
 
 Ill 
 
 THE evils just now alleged of large farming in the 
 West were necessarily in the way of prophecy ; but it is 
 not difficult to show them as history. Early in the 
 sixteenth century, England was seized with a passion 
 for large farming such as perhaps no age can parallel ; 
 and it so happens that contemporary pictures place the 
 results of it before us with quite extraordinary vividness. 
 
 After the fineness of English wool had been demon 
 strated, and had carried up the price of that commodity, 
 the rage for sheep-raising became a mania like that of the 
 South Sea speculation, and this one culture became 
 the " large farming " of the period. Land-owners delib 
 erately tore down farm-buildings and converted farms 
 into sheep-walks ; churches were demolished, or con 
 verted into sheep-houses ; hamlets were turned to pas 
 ture ; and rents were raised to such a rate as would drive 
 off tenants holding leases, and enable the landlords to 
 make sheep-walks of their holdings. Thus, bodies of 
 
The New South 125 
 
 productive glebe which had supported many farmers 
 families would be turned over to the occupation of a 
 single shepherd. What must become of the farmers 
 families? Contemporary testimony is ample. They 
 became beggars and criminals, and the world has rarely 
 seen such sights of barbarous misery as are revealed by 
 the writings, the sermons, the laws of this frightful period. 
 A tract in Lambeth Library, belonging to this time, is 
 entitled " Certain Causes Gathered Together, wherein is 
 showed the decay of England only by the great multi 
 tude of sheep, to the utter decay of household keeping, 
 maintenance of men, dearth of corn, and other notable 
 discommodities ; " and, after estimating that 50,000 
 fewer ploughs are going than a short time before, declares 
 that the families once fed by these ploughs " now have 
 nothing but to go about in England from door to door, 
 and ask their alms for God s sake;" and "some of 
 them, because they will not beg, do steal, and then they 
 be hanged. And thus the realm doth decay." 
 
 In that notable dialogue of Thomas Starkey s, recently 
 published by the New Shakspere Society, purporting to 
 be a conversation between Thomas Lupset, Oxford pro 
 fessor, and his friend, Cardinal Pole, a work by no 
 means an unworthy predecessor of Lander s " Imaginary 
 Conversations," we have contemporary testimony to 
 the same facts. "Who can be so blind or obstinate," 
 cries Lupset, at a certain point, " to deny the great decay, 
 faults, and misorders of our common weal; . . . our 
 cities, castles, and towns of late days ruinate and fallen 
 down " j and he laments the " ground so rude and waste, 
 which hath been beforetime occupied and tilled ; " de 
 claring, in another place, that " this is sure, that in no 
 country of Christendom you shall find so many beggars 
 
126 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 as be here in England," and inveighing against the 
 " nourishing of sheep, which is a great decay of the tillage 
 of this realm." 
 
 But here honest Hugh Latimer comes and nails his 
 nail with lightning and thunder. In the first of those 
 seven sturdy sermons which he preached before the 
 young King Edward VI., in 1548, immediately after 
 Henry VIII. s death, describing the number of agricul 
 tural laborers who had been thrown out of possible 
 employment by the sudden rage for sheep-raising, he 
 exclaims : 
 
 " For wher as have bene a great many of householders 
 and inhabitantes, ther is now but a shepherd and his 
 dogge ! 
 
 "My lordes and maisters," proceeds Latimer, "I say 
 also that all such procedynges ... do intend plainly to 
 make the yomanry slavery and the cleargye shavery." 
 And then we have a bright glimpse at better old days of 
 small farming, in some personal recollections with which 
 the old preacher was often fond of clinching an argument. 
 " My father was a Yoman, and had no landes of his 
 owne, onely he had a farme of iii. or iiii. pound by yere 
 at the uttermost, and hereupon he tilled so much as 
 kepte half a dozen men. He had walk for a hundred 
 shepe, and my mother mylked xxx. kyne. He was able 
 and did find the king a harnesse, wyth hymself, and hys 
 horsse, whyle he come to ye place that he should receyve 
 the kynges wages. I can remembre yat I buckled hys 
 harnes when he went unto Blackeheath felde. He kept me 
 to schole, or elles I had not bene able to have preached 
 before the kinges maiestie nowe. He maryed my systers 
 with v. pounde a pece. ... He kept hospitalitie for his 
 pore neighbours. And sum almess he gave to the poore, 
 
The New South 127 
 
 and all thys did he of the sayd farme. When he that 
 now hath it paieth XVI. pounde by yere or more, and is 
 not able to do anything for his Prynce, for himselfe, nor 
 for his children, or geve a cup of drincke to the pore." 
 
 Thus we learn, from the clause I have italicized, that 
 within Hugh Latimer s personal recollection farm-rents 
 had gone up more than three hundred per cent, in 
 consequence of the " inclosure " mania "inclosure" 
 being a term in many mouths during all this period, and 
 always equivalent to " large farming." 
 
 It is inspiriting to observe the boldness with which 
 Latimer charges home these evils upon the landlords, 
 many of whom must have been sitting before him at the 
 moment. These sermons were preached in the garden 
 at Westminster, where the young king had caused a 
 pulpit to be set up for Latimer in order to accom 
 modate the crowd who desired to hear him. " You 
 landlordes," he cries, in another part of the same ser 
 mon, " you rent -raisers, I maye saye you steplordes, 
 you unnaturall lordes, you have for your possessions 
 yerely to [too] much. Of thys to much, commeth 
 this monsterous and portentious dearth . . . that poore 
 menne . . . cannot wyth the sweate of their face have 
 a livinge, all kinde of victales is so deare, pigges, gese, 
 capons, chickens, egges," etc. ! 
 
 But, worse again, in the large-farming mania, great 
 land-owners became land-grabbers of the most unscrup 
 ulous kind. In his second sermon, Latimer gives us a 
 view of one of their methods : 
 
 " I can not go to my boke, for pore folkes come unto 
 me, desirynge me that I wyll speake that theyr matters 
 maye be heard." Occasionally he is at my lord of 
 Canterbury s house, " and now and then I walke in the 
 
128 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 garden lokyng in my boke. ... I am no soner in the 
 garden and have red a whyle but by and by cometh 
 there some or other knocking at the gate. Anon 
 cometh my man and sayth, Syr, there is one at the gate 
 would speake wyth you. When I come there then it is 
 some or other . . . that hathe layne thys longe [time] 
 at great costes and charges and can not once have hys 
 matter come to the hearing ; but among all other, one 
 especially moved me at this time to speak. ... A 
 gentlewoman come to me and tolde me that a great 
 man keepeth certaine landes of hyrs from hir, and wil 
 be hyr tennante in the spite of hyr tethe. And that in 
 a whole twelve moneth she coulde not gette but one 
 daye for the hearynge of hyr matter, and the same daye 
 when the matter should be hearde, the greate manne 
 broughte on hys syde a greate syghte of Lawyers for hys 
 counsayle, the gentilwoman had but one man of lawe : 
 and the great man shakes hym so that he can not tell 
 what to do, so that when the matter came to the poynte, 
 the Judge was a meane to the gentylwoman that she 
 wold let the great man have a quietnes in hyr Lande." 
 
 But far more beautifully and comprehensively does 
 that lucent soul Thomas More put the case, in the 
 Utopia. Here, through the medium of another imagi 
 nary conversation, More is cunningly showing up affairs 
 at home. He is talking with his supposititious traveller, 
 Hythlodaye : 
 
 "<I pray you, syr [quod I], have you ben in our 
 countrey ? 
 
 " Yea, forsoth [quod he], and there I taried for the 
 space of iiii. or v. monethes together. ... It chaunced 
 on a certayne daye, when I sate at the table of Arch- 
 
The New South 129 
 
 bishop John Morton, that a certain lawyer fell talking of 
 thieves in England, rejoicing to see "XX hanged to 
 gether upon one gallowes," and the like, wherto I 
 replied : 
 
 " It is to [too] extreame and cruel a punishment for 
 thefte, . . . much rather provision should have been 
 made that there were some means whereby they myght 
 get their livyng, so that no man shoulde be dryven to 
 this extreame necessitie, firste to steale and then to 
 dye. " 
 
 One cause of this is " as I suppose, proper and 
 peculiar to you Englishmen alone. 
 
 " What is that, quod the Cardinal. 
 
 " Forsoth, my lorde [quod I] , your shepe that were 
 wont to be so meeke and tame and so smal eaters, now, 
 as I heare say, be become so great devowerers, and so 
 wylde that they eate up and swallow downe the very men 
 themselves. They consume, destroye, and devoure 
 whole fieldes, houses and cities. For looke in what 
 partes of the realme doth growe the fynest, and there 
 fore dearest woll [wool] these noblemen, and gentle 
 men, yea and certayn Abbottes, holy men, no doubt, 
 leave no grounde for tillage, thei inclose al into pas 
 tures, thei throw downe houses, they plucke down townes, 
 and leave nothing standynge but only the churche to be 
 made a shepe-house, " so that " the husbandmen be 
 thrust owte of their owne, or els either by coveyne 
 fraude, or by violent oppression they be put besyde it, 
 or by wronges and injuries thei be so weried that they 
 be compelled to sell all ; ... either by hooke or crooke 
 they must needs departe awaye, poore, selye, wretched 
 soules, men, women, husbands, wives, fatherless children, 
 widowes, wofull mothers with their yonge babes, and 
 
 9 
 
i jo Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 their whole household, smal in substance and muche in 
 numbre, as husbandrye requireth many handes. Awaye 
 thei trudge, I say . . . fyndynge no place to reste in. 
 All their householde stuffe, . . . beeyng sodainely 
 thruste oute, they be constrayned to sell it for a thing 
 of nought. And when they have wandred abrode tyll 
 that be spent, what can they then els doo but steale, and 
 then justly pardy be hanged, or els go about a-beggyng ? 
 ... I praye you, what other thing do you then [than] 
 make theves, and then punish them? " 
 
 It seems difficult to believe that towns were actually 
 destroyed, and churches deliberately pulled down, to 
 give room for sheep-pastures ; yet, if anything were 
 needed beyond the testimony already given, it is clinched 
 beyond all doubt by many statutes of the reign of Henry 
 VIII. and Elizabeth. For example, the Preamble to 
 the statute of Henry VIII., Chapter I., recites : 
 
 " The King, our Sovereign Lord, calling to his most 
 blessed remembrance that whereas great inconvenience 
 be and daily increase by ... pulling down and de 
 struction of houses and towns within this realm, and 
 laying to pasture land which customably have been . . . 
 occupied with tillage and husbandry . . . whereby hus 
 bandry is decayed, churches destroyed, etc., etc.," there 
 fore enacted that such places " be re- edified, and such 
 lands so turned into pasture be restored to tillage," 
 upon penalty of the king s seizing half the yearly profits 
 to his own use until they should be so re-edified and 
 restored. 
 
 Eighteen years later I find "An Acte Concernyng 
 Fermes and Shepe," whose preamble yields some curious 
 details of this large farming rampant, and shows that 
 
The New South 131 
 
 Latimer s poor gentlewoman, who had a great man for her 
 tenant in the spite of her teeth, was but one of many. 
 
 " For as much as divers and sundry persons of the 
 king s subjects of this Realm . . . now of late . . . 
 have daily studied and practiced . . . ways and means 
 how they might accumulate and gather together into 
 fewer hands as well great multitude of farms as great 
 plenty of cattle and in especial sheep, putting such land 
 as they can get to pasture and not to tillage, whereby 
 they have not only pulled down churches and towns and 
 enhanced the old rates of the rents ... of this Realm 
 . . . but have raised the prices of all manner of corn, 
 cattle, wool, pigs, geese, hens, chickens, eggs, and such 
 other, almost double ... by reason whereof a marvel 
 ous multitude of the people of this Realm be not able 
 to provide meat, etc., for themselves, their wives and 
 children, but be so discouraged with misery and poverty 
 that they fall daily to theft, robbing, etc., ... or piti 
 fully die for hunger and cold ; " and as all this comes of 
 large farming in sheep, whereby great herds are gathered 
 into few hands ; therefore enacted that hereafter no per 
 son shall have, of his own proper cattle, above two thou 
 sand head at a time ; upon pain of three shillings and 
 four pence a heavy fine for each surplus sheep. 
 
 And to similar intents I find Act after Act, running 
 far into Elizabeth s reign. 
 
 But to no effect ; for who can stop gambling ? " We 
 have good statutes," quoth Latimer, "as touching com 
 moners," commoners being those who usurped com 
 mons for sheep-walks, in short, large farmers, " but 
 there cometh nothing forth. . . . Let the preacher 
 preach till his tongue be worn to the stumps, nothing is 
 amended." 
 
Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 In a time when ballads were so plentiful that, as 
 Martin Marsixtus (1552) hath it, "every red-nosed 
 rhymester is an author," and " scarce a cat can look out 
 of a gutter but out starts some penny chronicler, and 
 presently a proper new ballad of a strange sight is in 
 dited," such matters as these could hardly fail to find 
 their way into popular verse ; and accordingly we find 
 the story in such forms as : 
 
 " The towns go down, the land decays, 
 
 Of corn-fields, plain leas ; 
 
 Great men maketh nowadays 
 
 A sheep-cot of the church. 
 
 Poor folk for bread to cry and weep ; 
 Towns pulled down to pasture sheep ; 
 This is the new guise." 
 
 How far this large farming, thus carried on, converted 
 the most virtuous occupation of man husbandry 
 into the most conscience-withering of all pursuits, the 
 gambler s, and gave to the wildest speculation the 
 factitious basis of a sort of real-estate transaction ; how 
 far it was connected with that national passion for dicing 
 which Roger Ascham mourns when he patly quotes the 
 Pardoner *s Tale of Chaucer, wishing that English 
 
 " Lordes might finde them other maner of pleye 
 Honest ynough to drive the day awaye," 
 
 and concludes, so beautifully : " I suppose that there is 
 no one thyng that chaungeth sooner the golden and 
 sylver wyttes of men into copperye and brassye wayes 
 than dicing ; " how far it was of the same piece with that 
 frightful knavery in public station against which we hear 
 old Latimer thundering, " They all love bribes, and 
 bribery is a princely kind of thieving," and telling them 
 
The New South 133 
 
 the story of Cambyses, who flayed a bribe-taking judge 
 and covered the judge s chair with it, that all succeeding 
 judges might sit in that wholesome reminder, and finally 
 exclaiming, " a goodly syne, ... I praye God we may 
 see the signe of the skynne in England ; " how far it 
 was connected with gentle George Gascoigne s picture 
 in The Steel Glass, of the clergyman who 
 
 " will read the holy writ, 
 Which doth forbid all greedy usury, 
 And yet receive a shilling for a pound ; 
 . . . will preach of patience, 
 And yet be found as angry as a wasp ; 
 . . . reproveth vanity, 
 (While he himself, with hawk upon his fist 
 And hounds at heel, doth quite forget the text) ; 
 . . . corrects contentions 
 For trifling things, and yet will sue for tithes ; " 
 
 how far it had to do with Bernard Gilpin s rebuke, in 
 his sermon, of " Never so many gentlemen and so little 
 gentleness ; " and how far the past of large farming in 
 England sheds light on the future of large farming in 
 America : are questions beyond the limits of this paper. 
 
 Meantime, it seems like an omen to this brief sketch, 
 that while it is being written the newspapers bring report 
 how Mr. Gladstone has recently proposed small farming 
 as a remedy for the present agricultural ills of England, 
 and has recommended that " English farmers should 
 turn their attention to raising fruits, vegetables, poultry, 
 eggs, and butter." 
 
 In truth, I find a great man appealing to the small 
 farmer a long time before Mr. Gladstone. Euripides 
 praises him for not being a crazy democrat. It is these 
 farmers, he declares, who stay at home and do not come 
 to the public assembly, that save the country. 
 
1 34 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 It is impossible to end without adverting to a New 
 South which exists in a far more literal sense than that 
 of small farming. How much of this gracious land is 
 yet new to all real cultivation, how much of it lies groan 
 ing for the muscle of man, and how doubly mournful is 
 this newness, in view of the fair and fruitful conditions 
 which here hold perpetual session, and press perpetual 
 invitation, upon all men to come and have plenty! 
 Surely, along that ample stretch of generous soil, where 
 the Appalachian ruggednesses calm themselves into 
 pleasant hills before dying quite away into the sea-board 
 levels, a man can find such temperances of heaven and 
 earth enough of struggle with nature to draw out 
 manhood, with enough of bounty to sanction the strug 
 gle that a more exquisite co-adaptation of all blessed 
 circumstances for man s life need not be sought. It is 
 with a part of that region that this writer is most familiar, 
 and one cannot but remember that, as one stands at a 
 certain spot thereof and looks off up and across the 
 Ocmulgee River, the whole prospect seems distinctly to 
 yearn for men. ^Everywhere the huge and gentle slopes 
 kneel and pray for vineyards, for cornfields, for cot 
 tages, for spires to rise up from beyond the oak-groves. 
 It is a land where there is never a day of summer nor 
 of winter when a man cannot do a full day s work in the 
 open field ; all the products meet there, as at nature s 
 own agricultural fair; rice grows alongside of wheat, 
 corn alongside of sugar-cane, cotton alongside of clover, 
 apples alongside of peaches, so that a small farm may 
 often miniature the whole United States in growth ; the 
 little valleys everywhere run with living waters, asking 
 grasses and cattle and quiet grist-mills ; all manner of 
 timbers for economic uses and trees for finer arts cover 
 
The New South 135 
 
 the earth ; in short, here is such a neighborly congre 
 gation of climates, soils, minerals, and vegetables, that 
 within the compass of many a hundred-acre farm a man 
 may find wherewithal to build his house of stone, of 
 brick, of oak, or of pine, to furnish it in woods that 
 would delight the most curious eye, and to supply his 
 family with all the necessaries, most of the comforts, and 
 many of the luxuries, of the whole world. It is the 
 country of homes. 
 
 And, as said, it is because these blissful ranges are 
 still clamorous for human friendship ; it is because many 
 of them are actually virgin to plough, pillar, axe, or mill- 
 wheel, while others have known only the insulting and 
 mean cultivation of the earlier immigrants who scratched 
 the surface for cotton a year or two, then carelessly 
 abandoned all to sedge and sassafras, and sauntered on 
 toward Texas : it is thus that these lands are, with sad 
 der significance than that of small farming, also a New 
 South. 
 
 1880. 
 
136 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 Sketches of India 
 
 [Mr. Lanier writes to Mr. Gibson Peacock in 1875, as follows : 
 "Yours . . . came to hand safely; and I should have immediately 
 acknowledged it, had I not been over head (literally) and ears in 
 a second instalment of my India papers, for which the magazine 
 was agonizedly waiting. Possibly you may have seen the January 
 number by this time; and it just occurs to me that if you should 
 read the India article, you will be wondering at my talking coolly 
 of strolling about Bombay with a Hindu friend. But Bhima 
 Ghandarva (Bhima was the name of the ancient Sanscrit hero 
 The Son of the Air, and Ghandarva means A Heavenly Musician} 
 is only another name for Imagination which is certainly the 
 only Hindu friend I have ; and the propriety of the term, as well 
 as the true character of Bhirna Ghandarva, and the insubstantial 
 nature of all adventures recorded as happening to him and myself, 
 is to be fully explained in the end of the last article. I hit upon 
 this expedient after much tribulation and meditation, in order at 
 once to be able to make something like a narrative that should 
 avoid an arid, encyclopedic treatment, and to be perfectly truth 
 ful. The only plan was to make it a pure jeu cTesprit; and in 
 writing the second paper I have found it of great advantage."] 
 
 I 
 
 "COME," says my Hindu friend, "let us do Bombay." 
 The name of my Hindu friend is Bhima Gandharva. 
 At the same time his name is not Bhima Gandharva. 
 But for what is life worth if one may not have one s 
 little riddle ? in respect that he is not so named let 
 him be so called, for thus will a pretty contradiction be 
 accomplished, thus shall I secure at once his privacy 
 
Sketches oflndia 137 
 
 and his publicity, and reveal and conceal him in a 
 breath. 
 
 It is eight o clock in the morning. We have met 
 Bhima Gandharva and I in The Fort." The Fort 
 is to Bombay much as the Levee, with its adjacent quar 
 ters, is to New Orleans ; only it is one may say Hiber- 
 nice a great deal more so. It is on the inner or 
 harbor side of the island of Bombay. Instead of the 
 low-banked Mississippi, the waters of a tranquil and 
 charming haven smile welcome out yonder from between 
 wooded island-peaks. Here Bombay has its counting- 
 houses, its warehouses, its exchange, its " Cotton Green," 
 its docks. But not its dwellings. This part of the Fort 
 where we have met is, one may say, only inhabited for 
 six hours in the day from ten in the morning until 
 four in the afternoon. At the former hour Bombay is to 
 be found here engaged at trade ; at the latter it rushes 
 back into the various quarters outside the Fort which 
 go to make up this many-citied city. So that at this 
 particular hour of eight in the morning one must expect 
 to find little here that is alive, except either a philoso 
 pher, a stranger, a policeman, or a rat. 
 
 " Well, then," I said as Bhima Gandharva finished 
 communicating this information to me, " we are all 
 here." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " There stand you, a philosopher ; here I, a stranger ; 
 yonder, the policeman ; and, heavens and earth ! what 
 a rat ! " I accompanied this exclamation by shooing 
 a big musky fellow from behind a bale of cotton whither 
 I had just seen him run. 
 
 Bhima Gandharva smiled in a large, tranquil way he 
 has, which is like an Indian plain full of ripe corn. " I 
 
138 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 find it curious," he said, " to compare the process which 
 goes on here in the daily humdrum of trade about this 
 place with that which one would see if one were far up 
 yonder at the northward, in the appalling solitudes of 
 the mountains, where trade has never been and will 
 never be. Have you visited the Himalaya ? " 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 " Among those prodigious planes of snow," continued 
 the Hindu, " which when level nevertheless frighten you 
 as if they were horizontal precipices, and which when 
 perpendicular nevertheless lull you with a smooth deadly 
 half- sense of confusion as to whether you should refer 
 your ideas of space to the slope or the plain, there 
 reigns at this moment a quietude more profound than 
 the Fort s. But presently, as the sun beats with more 
 fervor, rivulets begin to trickle from exposed points ; 
 these grow to cataracts and roar down the precipices ; 
 masses of undermined snow plunge into the abysses ; 
 the great winds of the Himalaya rise and howl, and 
 every silence of the morning becomes a noise at noon. 
 A little longer, and the sun again decreases ; the cata 
 racts draw their heads back into the ice as tortoises into 
 their shells ; the winds creep into their hollows, and the 
 snows rest. So here. At ten the tumult of trade will 
 begin ; at four it will quickly freeze again into stillness. 
 One might even carry this parallelism, into more fanciful 
 extremes. For, as the vapors which lie on the Hima 
 laya in the form of snow have in time come from all 
 parts of the earth, so the tide of men that will presently 
 pour in here is made up of people from the four quar 
 ters of the globe. The Hindu, the African, the Arabian, 
 the Chinese, the Tartar, the European, the American, the 
 Parsee, will in a little while be trading or working here." 
 
Sketches of India 139 
 
 "What a complete bouleversement" I said, seating 
 myself on a bale of cotton and looking toward the fleets 
 of steamers and vessels collected off the great cotton- 
 presses awaiting their cargoes, "this particular scene 
 effects in the mind of a traveller just from America ! 
 India has been to me, as to the average American, a 
 dream of terraced ghats, of banyans and bungalows, of 
 Taj Mahals and tigers, of sacred rivers and subterranean 
 temples, and and that sort of thing. I come here 
 and land in a big cotton-yard. I ask myself, Have I 
 left Jonesville dear Jonesville ! on the other side 
 of the world in order to sit on an antipodal cotton- 
 bale? " 
 
 "There is some more of India," said Bhima Gand- 
 harva, gently. " Let us look at it a little." 
 
 One may construct a good-enough outline map of 
 this wonderful land in one s mind by referring its main 
 features to the first letter of the alphabet. Take a cap 
 ital A ; turn it up side down, y ; imagine that the 
 inverted triangle forming the lower half of the letter is 
 the Deccan, the left side representing the Western 
 Ghats, the right side representing the Eastern Ghats, and 
 the cross-stroke standing for the Vindhya Mountains ; 
 imagine further that a line from right to left across the 
 upper ends of the letter, trending upward as it is drawn, 
 represents the Himalaya, and that enclosed between 
 them and the Vindhyas is Hindustan proper. Behind 
 /. e. to the north of the centre of this last line rises 
 the Indus, flowing first northwestward through the Vale 
 of Cashmere, then cutting sharply to the south and flow 
 ing by the way of the Punjab and Scinde to where it 
 empties at Kurrachee. Near the same spot where the 
 Indus originates rises also the Brahmaputra, but the 
 
140 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 latter empties its waters far from the former, flowing first 
 southeastward, then cutting southward and emptying 
 into the Gulf of Bengal. Fixing, now, in the mind the 
 sacred Ganges and Jumna, coming down out of the 
 Gangetic and Jumnatic peaks in a general southeasterly 
 direction, uniting at Allahabad and emptying into the 
 Bay of Bengal, and the Nerbudda River flowing over 
 from the east to the west, along the southern bases of the 
 Vindhyas, until it empties at the important city of Brooch, 
 a short distance north of Bombay, one will have thus 
 located a number of convenient points and lines suf 
 ficient for general references. 
 
 This A of ours is a very capital A indeed, being some 
 nineteen hundred miles in length and fifteen hundred in 
 width. Lying on the western edge of this peninsula is 
 Bombay Island. It is crossed by the line of 19 north 
 latitude, and is, roughly speaking, halfway between the 
 Punjab on the north and Ceylon on the south. Its 
 shape is that of a lobster, with his claws extended south 
 ward and his body trending a little to the west of north. 
 The larger island of Salsette lies immediately north, and 
 the two, connected by a causeway, enclose the noble 
 harbor of Bombay. Salsette approaches near to the 
 mainland at its northern end, and is connected with it 
 by the railway structure. These causeways act as break 
 waters, and complete the protection of the port. The 
 outer claw, next to the Indian Ocean, of the lobster- 
 shaped Bombay Island is the famous Malabar Hill ; the 
 inner claw is the promontory of Calaba ; in the curved 
 space between the two is the body of shallow water 
 known as the Back Bay, along whose strand so many 
 strange things are done daily. As one turns into the 
 harbor around the promontory of Calaba which is one 
 
Sketches of India 141 
 
 of the European quarters of the manifold city of Bombay, 
 and is occupied by magnificent residences and flower- 
 gardens one finds just north of it the great docks and 
 commercial establishments of the Fort; then an enor 
 mous esplanade farther north ; across which, a distance 
 of about a mile, going still northward, is the great Indian 
 city called Black Town, with its motley peoples and 
 strange bazars ; and still farther north is the Portuguese 
 quarter, known as Mazagon. 
 
 As we crossed the great esplanade to the north of the 
 Fort Bhima Gandharva and I and strolled along 
 the noisy streets, I began to withdraw my complaint. It 
 was not like Jonesville. It was not like any one place 
 or thing, but like a hundred, and all the hundred outre 
 to the last degree. Hindu beggars, so dirty that they 
 seemed to have returned to dust before death; three 
 fakirs, armed with round-bladed daggers with which they 
 were wounding themselves apparently in the most reck 
 less manner, so as to send streams of blood flowing to the 
 ground, and redly tattooing the ashes with which their 
 naked bodies were covered ; Parsees with their long 
 noses curving over their moustaches, clothed in white, 
 sending one s thoughts back to Ormuz, to Persia, to 
 Zoroaster, to fire-worship and to the strangeness of the 
 fate which drove them out of Persia more than a thou 
 sand years ago, and which has turned them into the most 
 industrious traders and most influential citizens of a land 
 in which they are still exiles ; Chinese, Afghans the 
 Highlanders of the East Arabs, Africans, Mahrattas, 
 Malays, Persians, Portuguese half-bloods ; men that called 
 upon Mohammed, men that called upon Confucius, upon 
 Krishna, upon Christ, upon Gotama the Buddha, upon 
 Rama and Sita, upon Brahma, upon Zoroaster ; strange 
 
142 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 carriages shaded by red domes that compressed a whole 
 dream of the East in small, and drawn by humped oxen, 
 alternating with palanquins, with stylish turnouts of the 
 latest mode, with cavaliers upon Arabian horses ; half- 
 naked workmen, crouched in uncomfortable workshops 
 and ornamenting sandal-wood boxes ; dusky curb-stone 
 shop-keepers, rushing at me with strenuous offerings of 
 their wares ; lines of low shop-counters along the street, 
 backed by houses rising in many stories, whose black- 
 pillared verandahs were curiously carved and painted ; 
 cries, chafferings, bickerings, Mussulman prayers, Arab 
 oaths extending from " Praise God that you exist " to 
 "Praise God although you exist," all these things 
 appealed to the confused senses. 
 
 The tall spire of a Hindu temple revealed itself. 
 
 "It seems to me," I said to Bhima Gandharva, "that 
 your steeples as we would call them in Jonesville 
 represent, in a sort of way, your cardinal doctrine : they 
 seem to be composed of a multitude of little steeples, 
 all like the big one, just as you might figure your 
 Supreme Being in the act of absorbing a large number 
 of the faithful who had just arrived from the dismal 
 existence below. And then, again, your steeple looks 
 as if it might be the central figure of your theistic 
 scheme, surrounded by the three hundred millions of 
 your lesser deities. How do you get on, Bhima Gand 
 harva, with so many claims on your worshipping faculties ? 
 I should think you would be well lost in such a jungle of 
 gods." 
 
 My friend," said Bhima Gandharva, " a short time 
 ago a play was performed in this city which purported 
 to be a translation into the Mahratta language of the 
 Romeo and Juliet which Shakespeare wrote. It was 
 
Sketches of India 143 
 
 indeed a very great departure from that miraculous 
 work, which I know well, but among its many devia 
 tions from the original was one which for the mournful 
 and yet humorous truth of it was really worthy of the 
 Master. Somehow, the translator had managed to get 
 a modern Englishman into the play, who, every time 
 that one of my countrymen happened to be found in 
 leg-reach, would give him a lusty kick and cry out, 
 Damn fool ! Why is the whole world like this Eng 
 lishman? upon what does it found its opinion that the 
 Hindu is a fool ? Is it upon our religion ? Listen ! I 
 will recite you some matters out of our scriptures : Once 
 upon a time Arjuna stood in his chariot betwixt his army 
 and the army of his foes. These foes were his kinsmen. 
 Krishna even that great god Krishna moved by pity 
 for Arjuna, had voluntarily placed himself in Arjuna s 
 chariot and made himself the charioteer thereof. Then 
 so saith Sanjaya in order to encourage him, the 
 ardent old ancestor of the Kurus blew his conch-shell, 
 sounding loud as the roar of a lion. Then on a sudden 
 trumpets, cymbals, drums, and horns were sounded. 
 That noise grew to an uproar. And, standing on a huge 
 car drawn by white horses, the slayer of Madhu and the 
 son of Pandu blew their celestial trumpets. Krishna 
 blew his horn called Panchajanya ; the Despiser of 
 Wealth blew his horn called the Gift of the Gods ; he 
 of dreadful deeds and wolfish entrails blew a great 
 trumpet called Paundra; King Yudishthira, the son of 
 Kunti, blew the Eternal Victory ; Nakula and Sahadeva 
 blew the Sweet-toned and the Blooming-with-Jewels. 
 The King of Kashi, renowned for the excellence of his 
 bow, and Shikandin in his huge chariot, Dhrishtyadumna 
 and Virata, and Satyaki, unconquered by his foes,; and[ 
 
144 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 Drupada and the sons of Drupadi all together, and the 
 strong-armed son of Subhadra, each severally blew their 
 trumpets. That noise lacerated the hearts of the sons 
 of Dhartarashtra, and uproar resounded both through 
 heaven and earth. Now when Arjuna beheld the 
 Dhartarashtras drawn up, and that the flying of arrows 
 had commenced, he raised his bow, and then addressed 
 these words to Krishna : 
 
 " Now that I have beheld this kindred standing here 
 near together for the purpose of fighting, my limbs give 
 way and my face is bloodless, and tremor is produced 
 throughout my body, and my hair stands on end. My 
 bow Gandiva slips from my hand, and my skin burns. 
 Nor am I able to remain upright, and my mind is as it 
 were whirling round. Nor do I perceive anything better 
 even when I shall have slain these relations in battle. 
 I seek not victory, Krishna, nor a kingdom, nor pleas 
 ures. What should we do with a kingdom, Govinda? 
 What with enjoyments, or with life itself ? Those very 
 men on whose account we might desire a kingdom, 
 enjoyments, or pleasures are assembled for battle. 
 Teachers, fathers, and even sons, and grandfathers, 
 uncles, fathers-in-law, grandsons, brothers-in-law, with 
 connections also, these I would not wish to slay, 
 though I were slain myself, O Killer of Madhu ! not 
 even for the sake of the sovereignty of the triple world 
 how much less for that of this earth ! When we 
 had killed the Dhartarashtras, what pleasure should we 
 have, O thou who art prayed to by mortals? How could 
 we be happy after killing our own kindred, O Slayer 
 of Madhu? Even if they whose reason is obscured 
 by covetousness do not perceive the crime committed 
 in destroying their own tribe, should we not know how 
 
Sketches of India 145 
 
 to recoil from such a sin? In the destruction of a tribe 
 the eternal institutions of the tribe are destroyed. These 
 laws being destroyed, lawlessness prevails. From the 
 existence of lawlessness the women of the tribe become 
 corrupted j and when the women are corrupted, O son 
 of Vrishni ! confusion of caste takes place. Confusion 
 of caste is a gate to hell. Alas ! we have determined to 
 commit a great crime, since from the desire of sover 
 eignty and pleasures we are prepared to slay our own 
 kin. Better were it for me if the Dhartarashtras, being 
 armed, would slay me, harmless and unresisting in the 
 fight. 
 
 " Having thus spoken in the midst of the battle, 
 Arjuna, whose heart was troubled with grief, let fall his 
 bow and arrow and sat down on the bench of the 
 chariot." 
 
 " Well," I asked after a short pause, during which the 
 Hindu kept his eyes fixed in contemplation on the spire 
 of the temple, " what did Krishna have to say to that? " 
 
 " He instructed Arjuna, and said many wise things. 
 I will tell you some of them, here and there, as they 
 are scattered through the holy Bhagavad- Gitd : Then 
 between the two armies, Krishna, smiling, addressed 
 these words to him, thus downcast : 
 
 " Thou hast grieved for those who need not be 
 grieved for, yet thou utterest words of wisdom. The 
 wise grieve not for dead or living. But never at any 
 period did I or thou or these kings of men not exist, 
 nor shall any of us at any time henceforward cease to 
 exist. There is no existence for what does not exist, 
 nor is there any non-existence for what exists. . . . These 
 finite bodies have been said to belong to an eternal, 
 indestructible, and infinite spirit. ... He who believes 
 
 10 
 
146 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 that this spirit can kill, and he who thinks that it can 
 be killed both of these are mistaken. It neither kills 
 nor is killed. It is born, and it does not die. . . . Un 
 born, changeless, eternal both as to future and past time, 
 it is not slain when the body is killed. ... As the soul 
 in this body undergoes the changes of childhood, prime, 
 and age, so it obtains a new body hereafter. ... As a 
 man abandons worn-out clothes and takes other new 
 ones, so does the soul quit worn-out bodies and enter 
 other new ones. Weapons cannot cleave it, fire cannot 
 burn it, nor can water wet it, nor can wind dry it. It 
 is impenetrable, incombustible, incapable of moisten 
 ing and of drying. It is constant; it can go every 
 where ; it is firm, immovable, and eternal. And even if 
 thou deem it born with the body and dying with the 
 body, still, O great -armed one ! thou art not right to 
 grieve for it. For to everything generated death is 
 certain ; to everything dead regeneration is certain. . . . 
 One looks on the soul as a miracle ; another speaks of 
 it as a miracle ; another hears of it as a miracle ; but 
 even when he has heard of it, not one comprehends 
 it. ... When a man s heart is disposed in accordance 
 with his roaming senses, it snatches away his spiritual 
 knowledge as the wind does a ship on the waves. . . . 
 He who does not practise devotion has neither intelli 
 gence nor reflection. And he who does not practise 
 reflection has no calm. How can a man without calm 
 obtain happiness? The self-governed man is awake in 
 that which is night to all other beings ; that in which 
 other beings are awake is night to the self-governed. 
 He into whom all desires enter in the same manner as 
 rivers enter the ocean, which is always full, yet does not 
 change its bed, can obtain tranquillity. . . . Love or 
 
Sketches of India 147 
 
 hate exists toward the object of each sense. One should 
 not fall into the power of these two passions, for they 
 are one s adversaries. . . . Know that passion is hostile 
 to man in this world. As fire is surrounded by smoke 
 and a mirror by rust, and a child by the womb, so is this 
 universe surrounded by passion. . . . They say that the 
 senses are great. The heart is greater than the senses. 
 But the intellect is greater than the heart, and passion 
 is greater than the intellect. . . . 
 
 " I and thou, O Arjuna ! have passed through many 
 transmigrations. I know all these. Thou dost not 
 know them. . . . For whenever there is a relaxation of 
 duty, O son of Bharata ! and an increase of impiety, I 
 then reproduce myself for the protection of the good 
 and the destruction of evil-doers. I am produced in 
 every age for the purpose of establishing duty. . . . Some 
 sacrifice the sense of hearing and the other senses in 
 the fire of restraint. Others, by abstaining from food, 
 sacrifice life in their life. (But) the sacrifice of spiritual 
 knowledge is better than a material sacrifice. ... By 
 this knowledge thou wilt recognize all things whatever 
 in thyself, and then in me. He who possesses faith 
 acquires spiritual knowledge. He who is devoid of 
 faith and of doubtful mind perishes. The man of 
 doubtful mind enjoys neither this world nor the other 
 nor final beatitude. Therefore, sever this doubt which 
 exists in thy heart, and springs from ignorance, with thy 
 sword of knowledge : turn to devotion and arise, O son 
 of Bharata ! . . . 
 
 " Learn my superior nature, O hero ! by means of 
 which this world is sustained. I am the cause of the 
 production and dissolution of the whole universe. There 
 exists no other thing superior to me. On me are all the 
 
148 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 worlds suspended, as numbers of pearls on a string. I 
 am the savor of waters, and the principle of light in 
 the moon and sun, the mystic syllable Om in the Vedas, 
 the sound in the ether, the essence of man in men, the 
 sweet smell in the earth ; and I am the brightness in 
 flame, the vitality in all beings, and the power of morti 
 fication in ascetics. Know, O son of Pritha ! that I am 
 the eternal seed of all things which exist. I am the 
 intellect of those who have intellect ; I am the strength 
 of the strong. . . . And know that all dispositions, 
 whether good, bad, or indifferent, proceed also from 
 me. I do not exist in them, but they in me. ... I am 
 dear to the spiritually wise beyond possessions, and he 
 is dear to me. A great-minded man who is convinced 
 that Vasudevu (Krishna) is everything is difficult to 
 find. ... If one worships any inferior personage with 
 faith, I make his faith constant. Gifted with such faith, 
 he seeks the propitiation of this personage, and from 
 him receives the pleasant objects of his desires, which 
 (however) were sent by me alone. But the reward of 
 these little-minded men is finite. They who sacrifice 
 to the gods go to the gods ; they who worship me come 
 to me. I am the immolation. I am the whole sacrifi 
 cial rite. I am the libation to ancestors. I am the 
 drug. I am the incantation. I am the fire. I am the 
 incense. I am the father, the mother, the sustainer, 
 the grandfather of this universe the path, the sup 
 porter, the master, the witness, the habitation, the refuge, 
 the friend, the origin, the dissolution, the place, the 
 receptacle, the inexhaustible seed. I heat. I withhold 
 and give the rain. I am ambrosia and death, the exist 
 ing and the non- existing. Even those who devoutly wor 
 ship other gods with the gift of faith, worship me, but 
 
Sketches of India 149 
 
 only improperly. I am the same to all beings. I have 
 neither foe nor friend. I am the beginning and the 
 middle and the end of existing things. Among bodies 
 I am the beaming sun. Among senses I am the heart. 
 Among waters I am the ocean. Among mountains I 
 am Himalaya. Among trees I am the banyan ; among 
 men, the king ; among weapons, the thunderbolt ; among 
 things which count, time ; among animals, the lion ; 
 among purifiers, the wind. I am Death who seizes all ; 
 I am the birth of those who are to be. I am Fame, 
 Fortune, Speech, Memory, Meditation, Perseverance, 
 and Patience among feminine words. I am the game 
 of dice among things which deceive; I am splendor 
 among things which are shining. Among tamers I am 
 the rod ; among means of victory I am polity ; among 
 mysteries I am silence, the knowledge of the wise. . . . 
 
 " They who know me to be the God of this universe, 
 the God of gods and the God of worship they who 
 know me to be the God of this universe, the God of 
 gods and the God of worship yea, they who know me 
 to be these things in the hour of death, they know me 
 indeed. " 
 
 When -my friend finished these words there did not 
 seem to be anything particular left in heaven or earth to 
 talk about. At any rate, there was a dead pause for 
 several minutes. Finally I asked and I protest that 
 in contrast with the large matters whereof Bhima Gand- 
 harva had discoursed my voice (which is American and 
 slightly nasal) sounded like nothing in the world so 
 much as the squeak of a sick rat, "When were these 
 things written? " 
 
 "At least nineteen hundred and seventy-five years 
 ago, we feel sure. How much earlier we do not know." 
 
150 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 We now directed our course toward the hospital for 
 sick and disabled animals which has been established 
 here in the most crowded portion of Black Town by 
 that singular sect called the Jains, and which is only one 
 of a number of such institutions to be found in the large 
 cities of India. This sect is now important more by 
 influence than by numbers in India, many of the richest 
 merchants of the great Indian cities being among its 
 adherents, though by the last census of British India 
 there appears to be but a little over nine millions of 
 Jains and Buddhists together, out of the one hundred 
 and ninety millions of Hindus in British India. The 
 tenets of the Jains are too complicated for description 
 here, but it may be said that much doubt exists as to 
 whether it is an old religion of which Brahmanism and 
 Buddhism are varieties, or whether it is itself a variety 
 of Buddhism. Indeed, it does not seem well settled 
 whether the pure Jain doctrine was atheistical or theisti- 
 cal. At any rate, it is sufficiently differentiated from 
 Brahmanism by its opposite notion of castes, and from 
 Buddhism by its cultus of nakedness, which the Bud 
 dhists abhor. The Jains are split into two sects the 
 Digambaras, or nude Jains, and the Svetambaras, or 
 clothed Jains, which latter sect seem to be Buddhists, 
 who, besides the Tirthankars (/. <?. mortals who have 
 acquired the rank of gods by devout lives, in whom all 
 the Jains believe), worship also the various divinities of 
 the Vishnu system. The Jains themselves declare this 
 system to date from a period ten thousand years before 
 Christ, and they practically support this traditional 
 antiquity by persistently regarding and treating the 
 Buddhists as heretics from their system. At any event, 
 their religion is an old one. They seem to be the 
 
Sketches of India 151 
 
 gymnosophists, or naked philosophers, described by 
 Clitarchos as living in India at the time of the expedi 
 tion of Alexander, and their history crops out in various 
 accounts, that of Clement of Alexandria, then of the 
 Chinese Fu-Hian in the fourth and fifth centuries, and 
 of the celebrated Chinese Hiouen-Tsang in the seventh 
 century, at which last period they appear to have been 
 the prevailing sect in India, and to have increased in 
 favor until in the twelfth century the Rajpoots, who had 
 become converts to Jainism, were schismatized into 
 Brahmanism and deprived the naked philosophers of 
 their prestige. 
 
 The great distinguishing feature of the Jains is the 
 extreme to which they push the characteristic tenderness 
 felt by the Hindus for animals of all descriptions. Jaina 
 is, distinctly, the purified. The priests eat no animal 
 food ; indeed, they are said not to eat at all after noon, 
 lest the insects then abounding should fly into their 
 mouths and be crushed unwittingly. They go with a 
 piece of muslin bound over their mouths, in order to 
 avoid the same catastrophe, and carry a soft brush 
 wherewith to remove carefully from any spot upon which 
 they are about to sit such insects as might be killed 
 thereby. 
 
 " Ah, how my countryman Bergh would luxuriate in 
 this scene ! " I said as we stood looking upon the vari 
 ous dumb exhibitions of so many phases of sickness, of 
 decrepitude and of mishap quaint, grotesque, yet 
 pathetic withal in the precincts of the Jain hospital. 
 Here were quadrupeds and bipeds, feathered creatures 
 and hairy creatures, large animals and small, shy and 
 tame, friendly and predatory horses, horned cattle, 
 rats, cats, dogs, jackals, crows, chickens ; what not. An 
 
152 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 attendant was tenderly bandaging the blinking lids of a 
 sore-eyed duck ; another was feeding a blind crow, who, 
 it must be confessed, looked here very much like some 
 fat member of the New York Ring cunningly availing 
 himself of the more toothsome rations in the sick ward 
 of the penitentiary. My friend pointed out to me a 
 heron with a wooden leg. 
 
 " Suppose a gnat should break his shoulder-blade," I 
 said, " would they put his wing in a sling? " 
 
 Bhima Gandharva looked me full in the face, and, 
 smiling gently, said, " They would if they could." 
 
 The Jains are considered to have been the architects 
 par excellence of India, and there are many monuments, 
 in all styles, of their skill in this kind. The strange 
 statues of the Tirthankars in the gorge called the Our- 
 whai of Gwalior were (until injured by the " march of 
 improvement ") among the most notable of the forms 
 of rock-cutting. These vary in size from statuettes of a 
 foot in height to colossal figures of sixty feet, and noth 
 ing can be more striking than these great forms, hewn 
 from the solid rock, represented entirely nude, with 
 their impassive countenances, which remind every 
 traveller of the Sphinx, their grotesque ears hanging down 
 to their shoulders, and their heads, about which plays a 
 ring of serpents for a halo, or out of which grows the 
 mystical three-branched Kalpa Vrich, or Tree of Knowl 
 edge. 
 
 The sacred hill of Sunaghur, lying a few miles to the 
 south of Gwalior, is one of the Meccas of the Jains, and 
 is covered with temples in marry styles, which display 
 the fertility of their architectural invention; there are 
 over eighty of these structures in all. 
 
 " And now," said Bhima Gandharva next day, " while 
 
Sketches of India 153 
 
 you are thinking upon temples, and wondering if the 
 Hindus have all been fools, you should complete your 
 collection of mental materials by adding to the sight 
 you have had of a Hindu temple proper, and to the 
 description you have had of Jain temples proper, a sight 
 of those marvellous subterranean works of the Buddhists 
 proper which remain to us. We might select our ex 
 amples of these either at Ellora or at Ajunta (which are 
 on the mainland a short distance to the northeast of 
 Bombay), the latter of which contains the most com 
 plete series of purely Buddhistic caves known in the 
 country; or, indeed, we could find Buddhistic caves 
 just yonder on Salsette. But let us go and see Karli at 
 once ; it is the largest shaitya (or cave-temple) in 
 India." 
 
 Accordingly, we took railway at Bombay, sped along 
 the isle, over the bridge to the island of Salsette, along 
 Salsette to Tannah, then over the bridge which connects 
 Salsette with the mainland, across the narrow head of 
 Bombay harbor, and so on to the station of Khandalla, 
 about halfway between Bombay and Poona, where we 
 disembarked. The caves of Karli are situated but a few 
 miles from Khandalla, and in a short time we were 
 standing in front of a talus at the foot of a sloping hill 
 whose summit was probably five to six hundred feet 
 high. A flight of steps cut in the hillside led up to a 
 ledge running out from an escarpment which was some 
 thing above sixty feet high before giving off into the 
 slope of the mountain. From the narrow and pictur 
 esque valley a flight of steps cut in the hillside led up to 
 the platform. We could not see the facade of the shaitya 
 on account of the concealing boscage of trees. On 
 ascending the steps, however, and passing a small square 
 
154 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 Brahmanic chapel, where we paid a trifling fee to the 
 priests who reside there for the purpose of protecting 
 the place, the entire front of the excavation revealed 
 itself and with every moment of gazing grew in strange 
 ness and solemn mystery. 
 
 The shaitya is hewn in the solid rock of the mountain. 
 Just to the left of the entrance stands a heavy pillar 
 (Silasthambd} completely detached from the temple, 
 with a capital upon whose top stand four lions back to 
 back. On this pillar is an inscription in Pali, which has 
 been deciphered, and which is now considered to fix 
 the date of the excavation conclusively at not later than 
 the second century before the Christian era. The eye 
 took in at first only the vague confusion of windows and 
 pillars cut in the rock. It is supposed that originally a 
 music-gallery stood here in front, consisting of a balcony 
 supported out from the two octagonal pillars, and prob 
 ably roofed or having a second balcony above. But the 
 woodwork is now gone. One soon felt one s attention 
 becoming concentrated, however, upon a great arched 
 window cut in the form of a horseshoe, through which 
 one could look down what was very much like the nave 
 of a church running straight back into the depths of 
 the hill. Certainly at first, as one passes into the 
 strange vestibule which intervenes still between the front 
 and the interior of the shaitya, one does not think at 
 all one only feels the dim sense of mildness raying 
 out from the great faces of the elephants, and of mys 
 terious farawayness conveyed by the bizarre postures of 
 the sculptured figures on the walls. 
 
 Entering the interior, a central nave stretches back 
 between two lines of pillars, each of whose capitals sup 
 ports upon its abacus two kneeling elephants ; upon each 
 
Sketches of India 155 
 
 elephant are seated two figures, most of which are male 
 and female pairs. The nave extends eighty-one feet 
 three inches back, the whole length of the temple being 
 one hundred and two feet three inches. There are fifteen 
 pillars on each side the nave, which thus enclose between 
 themselves and the wall two side-aisles, each about half 
 the width of the nave, the latter being twenty-five feet and 
 seven inches in width, while the whole width from wall to 
 wall is forty-five feet and seven inches. At the rear, in a 
 sort of apse, are seven plain octagonal pillars the 
 other thirty are sculptured. Just in front of these seven 
 pillars is the Daghaba a domed structure covered by 
 a wooden parasol. The Daghaba is the reliquary in 
 which or under which some relic of Gotama Buddha is 
 enshrined. The roof of the shaitya is vaulted, and ribs 
 of teak-wood which could serve no possible architec 
 tural purpose reveal themselves, strangely enough, run 
 ning down the sides. 
 
 As I took in all these details, pacing round the dark 
 aisles and finally resuming my stand near the entrance 
 from which I perceived the aisles, dark between the close 
 pillars and the wall, while the light streamed through the 
 great horseshoe window full upon the Daghaba at the 
 other end, I exclaimed to Bhima Gandharva, " Why, it 
 is the very copy of a Gothic church the aisles, the 
 nave, the vaulted roof and all and yet you tell me it 
 was excavated two thousand years ago ! " 
 
 "The resemblance has struck every traveller," he 
 replied. " And, strange to say, all the Buddhist cave- 
 temples are designed upon the same general plan. There 
 is always the organ-loft, as you see there ; always the 
 three doors, the largest one opening on the nave, the 
 smaller ones each on its side-aisle ; always the window 
 
156 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 throwing its light directly on the Daghaba at the other 
 end ; always, in short, the general arrangement of the 
 choir of a Gothic round or polygonal apse cathedral. It 
 is supposed that the devotees were confined to the front 
 part of the temple, and that the great window through 
 which the light comes was hidden from view, both out 
 side by the music-galleries and screens, and inside 
 through the disposition of the worshippers in front. The 
 gloom of the interior was thus available to the priests for 
 the production of effects which may be imagined." 
 
 Emerging from the temple, we saw the Buddhist mon 
 astery (Vihara), which is a series of halls and cells rising 
 one above the other in stories connected by flights of 
 steps, all hewn in the face of the hill at the side of the 
 temple. We sat down on a fragment of rock near a 
 stream of water with which a spring in the hillside fills a 
 little pool at the entrance of the Vihara. "Tell me 
 something of Gotama Buddha," I said. " Recite some 
 of his deliverances, O Bhima Gandharva ! you who 
 know everything." 
 
 " I will recite to you from the Sutta Nipata, which is 
 supposed by many pundits of Ceylon to contain several 
 of the oldest examples of the Pali language. It professes 
 to give the conversation of Buddha, who died five hun 
 dred and forty-three years before Christ lived on earth ; 
 and these utterances are believed by scholars to have 
 been brought together at least more than two hundred 
 years before the Christian era. The Mahdmangala 
 Sutta of the Nipata Sutta says for example : Thus it 
 was heard by me. At a certain time Bhagava (Gotama 
 Buddha) lived at Savatthi in Jetavana, in the garden of 
 Anathupindika. Then, the night being far advanced, a 
 certain god, endowed with a radiant color illuminating 
 
Sketches of India 157 
 
 Jetavana completely, came to where Bhagava was [and] 
 making obeisance to him, stood on one side. And, 
 standing on one side, the god addressed Bhagava in 
 [these] verses : 
 
 1. Many gods and men, longing after what is good, have 
 
 considered many things as blessings. Tell us what is 
 the greatest blessing, 
 
 2. Buddha said : Not serving fools, but serving the wise, 
 
 and honoring those worthy of being honored : this is 
 the greatest blessing. 
 
 3. The living in a fit country, meritorious deeds done in a 
 
 former existence, the righteous establishment of one s 
 self : this is the greatest blessing. 
 
 4. Extensive knowledge and science, well-regulated dis 
 
 cipline and well-spoken speech : this is the greatest 
 blessing. 
 
 5. The helping of father and mother, the cherishing of child 
 
 and wife, and the following of a lawful calling : this is 
 the greatest blessing. 
 
 6. The giving alms, a religious life, aid rendered to relatives, 
 
 blameless acts : this is the greatest blessing. 
 
 7. The abstaining from sins and the avoiding them, the 
 
 eschewing of intoxicating drink, diligence in good 
 deeds : this is the greatest blessing. 
 
 8. Reverence and humility, contentment and gratefulness, 
 
 the hearing of the law in the right time : this is the 
 greatest blessing. 
 
 9. Patience and mild speech, the association with those who 
 
 have subdued their passions, the holding of religious 
 discourse in the right time : this is the greatest 
 blessing. 
 
 10. Temperance and charity, the discernment of holy truth, 
 
 the perception of Nibba"na: this is the greatest 
 blessing. 
 
 1 1. The mind of any one unshaken by the ways of the world, 
 
 exemption from sorrow, freedom from passion, and 
 security : this is the greatest blessing. 
 
158 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 12. Those who having done these things become invincible 
 on all sides, attain happiness on all sides : this is the 
 greatest blessing. 
 
 " At another time also Gotama Buddha was discours 
 ing on caste. You know that the Hindus are divided 
 into the Brahmans, or the priestly caste, which is the 
 highest ; next the Kshatriyas, or the warrior and states 
 man caste ; next the Vaishyas, or the herdsman and 
 farmer caste ; lastly, the Sudras, or the menial caste. 
 Now, once upon a time the two youths Vasettha and 
 Bharadvaja had a discussion as to what constitutes a 
 Brahman. Thus, Vasettha and Bharadvaja went to the 
 place where Bhagava was, and having approached him 
 were well pleased with him ; and having finished a 
 pleasing and complimentary conversation, they sat down 
 on one side. Vasettha, who sat down on one side, 
 addressed Buddha in verse : . . . 
 
 3. O Gotama ! we have a controversy regarding [the distinct 
 
 ions of] birth. Thus know, O wise one ! the point of 
 difference between us : Bharadvaja says that a Brah 
 man is such by reason of his birth. 
 
 4. But I affirm that he is such by reason of his conduct. . . , 
 7. Bhagava replied: . . . 
 
 53. I call him alone a Brahman who is fearless, eminent, 
 
 heroic, a great sage, a conqueror, freed from attach 
 ments one who has bathed in the waters of wisdom, 
 and is a Buddha. 
 
 54. I call him alone a Brahman who knows his former 
 
 abode, who sees both heaven and hell, and has reached 
 the extinction of births. 
 
 55. What is called * name or tribe in the world arises 
 
 from usage only. It is adopted here and there by 
 common consent. 
 
Sketches of India 159 
 
 56. It comes from long and uninterrupted usage, and from 
 
 the false belief of the ignorant. Hence the ignorant 
 assert that a Brahman is such from birth. 
 
 57. One is not a Brahman nor a non-Brahman by birth: by 
 
 his conduct alone is he a Brahman, and by his con 
 duct alone is he a non-Brahman. 
 
 58. By his conduct he is a husbandman, an artisan, a mer 
 
 chant, a servant ; 
 
 59. By his conduct he is a thief, a warrior, a sacrificer, a 
 
 king. . . . 
 
 62. One is a Brahman from penance, charity, observance of 
 the moral precepts and the subjugation of the pas 
 sions. Such is the best kind of Brahmanism." 
 
 " That would pass for very good republican doctrine 
 in Jonesville," I said. " What a pity you have all so 
 backslidden from your orthodoxies here in India, Bhima 
 Gandharva ! In my native land there is a region where 
 many orange-trees grow. Sometimes, when a tree is too 
 heavily fertilized it suddenly shoots out in great luxuri 
 ance and looks as if it were going to make oranges enough 
 for the whole world, so to speak. But somehow, no fruit 
 comes : it proves to be all wood and no oranges, and 
 presently the whole tree changes and gets sick and good 
 for nothing. It is a disease which the natives call the 
 dieback. Now, it seems to me that when you old 
 Aryans came from from well, from wherever you 
 did come from you branched out at first into a superb 
 magnificence of religions and sentiments and imagina 
 tions and other boscage. But it looks now as if you 
 were really badly off with the dieback." 
 
 It was, however, impossible to perceive that Bhima 
 Gandharva s smile was like anything other than the same 
 plain full of ripe corn. 
 
160 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 II 
 
 I HAD now learned to place myself unreservedly in the 
 hands of Bhima Gandharva. When, therefore, on re 
 gaining the station at Khandalla he said, "The route 
 by which I intend to show you India will immediately 
 take us quite away from this part of it ; first, however, 
 let us go and see Poona, the old Mahratta capital, which 
 lies but a little more than thirty miles farther to the 
 southeastward by rail," I accepted the proposition as 
 a matter of course, and we were soon steaming down 
 the eastern declivity of the Ghats. As we moved 
 smoothly down into the treeless plains which surround 
 Poona I could not resist a certain feeling of depression. 
 
 "Yes," said Bhima Gandharva, when I mentioned it to 
 him, " I understand exactly what you mean. On reach 
 ing an unbroken expanse of level country after leaving 
 the tops of mountains, I always feel as if my soul had 
 come bump against a solid wall of rock in the dark. I 
 seem to hear a dull thud of discouragement somewhere 
 back in my soul, as when a man s body falls dead on the 
 earth. Nothing, indeed, could more heighten such a 
 sensation than the contrast between this and the Bom 
 bay side of the Ghats. There we had the undulating 
 waters, the lovely harbor with its wooded and hilly 
 islands, the ascending terraces of the Ghats : everything 
 was energetic, the whole invitation of Nature was toward 
 air, light, freedom, heaven. But here one spot is like 
 another spot; this level ground is just the same level 
 ground there was a mile back ; this corn stands like that 
 corn; there is an oppressive sense of bread-and-butter 
 about ; one somehow finds one s self thinking of ventila- 
 
Sketches of India 161 
 
 tion and economics. It is the sausage-grinding school 
 of poetry of which modern art, by the way, presents 
 several examples as compared with that general school 
 represented by the geniuses who arise and fly their own 
 flight and sing at a great distance above the heads of 
 men and of wheat." 
 
 Having arrived and refreshed ourselves at our hotel, 
 whose proprietor was, as usual, a Parsee, we sallied forth 
 for a stroll about Poona. On one side of us lay the 
 English quarter, consisting of the houses and gardens of 
 the officers and government employees and of the two 
 or three hundred other Englishmen residing here. On 
 the other was the town, extending itself along the banks 
 of the little river Moota. We dreamed ourselves along 
 in the lovely weather through such of the seven quarters 
 of the town as happened to strike the fancy of my com 
 panion. Occasionally we were compelled to turn out of 
 our way for the sacred cattle, which, in the enjoyment of 
 their divine prerogatives, would remain serenely lying 
 across our path ; but we respected the antiquity if not 
 the reasonableness of their privileges, and murmured 
 not. 
 
 Each of the seven quarters of Poona is named after a 
 day of the week. As we strolled from Monday to Tues 
 day, or passed with bold anachronism from Saturday 
 back to Wednesday, I could not help observing how 
 these interweavings and reversals of time appeared to 
 take an actual embodiment in the scenes through which 
 we slowly moved, particularly in respect of the houses 
 and the costumes which went to make up our general 
 view. From the modern-built European houses to the 
 mediaeval-looking buildings of the Bhoodwar quarter, 
 with their massive walls and loop-holes and crenellations, 
 
 ii 
 
1 62 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 was a matter of four or five centuries back in a mere 
 turn of the eye ; and from these latter to the Hindu 
 temples here and there, which, whether or not of actual 
 age, always carry one straight into antiquity, was a 
 further retrogression to the obscure depths of time. So, 
 too, one s glance would often sweep in a twinkling from 
 a European clothed in garments of the latest mode to a 
 Hindu whose sole covering was his dhotee, or clout about 
 the loins, taking in between these two extremes a num 
 ber of distinct stages in the process of evolution through 
 which our clothes have gone. In the evening we 
 visited the Sangam, where the small streams of the 
 Moola and the Moota come together. It is filled with 
 cenotaphs, but, so far from being a place of weeping, 
 the pleasant air was full of laughter and of gay conversa 
 tion from the Hindus, who delight to repair here for the 
 purpose of enjoying the cool breath of the evening as 
 well as the pleasures of social intercourse. 
 
 But I did not care to linger in Poona. The atmos 
 phere always had to me a certain tang of the assassina 
 tions, the intrigues, the treacheries which marked the 
 reign of that singular line of usurping ministers whose 
 capital was here. In the days when the Peishwas were 
 in the height of their glory Poona was a city of a hun 
 dred and fifty thousand inhabitants, and great traffic was 
 here carried on in jewelry and such luxuries among the 
 Mahratta nobles. The Mahrattas once, indeed, pos 
 sessed the whole of India practically ; and their name is 
 composed of Mahu t a word meaning " great," and often 
 to be met with in the designations of this land, where so 
 many things really are great, and Rachtra, "kingdom," 
 the propriety of the appellation seeming to be justified 
 by the bravery and military character of the people. 
 
Sketches of India 163 
 
 They have been called the Cossacks of India from these 
 qualities combined with their horsemanship. But the 
 dynasty of the usurping ministers had its origin in 
 iniquity ; and the corruption of its birth quickly broke 
 out again under the stimulus of excess and luxury, until 
 it culminated in the destruction of the Mahratta empire 
 in 1818. So, when we had seen the palace of the 
 Peishwa, from one of whose balconies the young Peishwa 
 Mahadeo committed suicide by leaping to the earth in 
 the year 1797 through shame at having been reproved 
 by his minister Nana Farnavese in presence of his court, 
 and when we had visited the Hira-Bagh, or Garden of 
 Diamonds, the summer retreat of the Peishwas, with its 
 elegant pavilion, its balconies jutting into the masses of 
 foliage, its cool tank of water, reposing under the pro 
 tection of the temple-studded Hill of Pararati, we took 
 train again for Bombay. 
 
 The Great Indian Peninsula Railway s main line leads 
 out of Bombay over the Ghats to Jabalpur, six hundred 
 miles; thence a railway of some two hundred and 
 twenty miles runs to Allahabad, connecting them with 
 the great line known as the East Indian Railway, 
 which extends for more than a thousand miles north 
 westward from Calcutta via Patna, Benares, Allahabad, 
 Cawnpore, Lucknow, Agra, and Delhi. Our journey, as 
 marked out by Bhima Gandharva, was to be from Bom 
 bay to Jabalpur by rail ; thence by some slow and easy 
 conveyance across country to Bhopal, and from Bhopal 
 northward through Jhansi to Delhi and the northern 
 country, thence returning by rail to Calcutta. 
 
 As one ascends the Western Ghats shortly after leav 
 ing Bombay one has continual occasion to remark the 
 extraordinary resources of modern railway engineering. 
 
164 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 Perhaps the mechanical skill of our time has not achieved 
 any more brilliant illustrations of itself than here occur. 
 For many miles one is literally going up a flight of steps 
 by rail. The word "Ghat " indeed means the steps lead 
 ing up from pools or rivers, whose frequent occurrence 
 in India attests the need of easy access to water, arising 
 from the important part which it plays both in the civil 
 and religious economies of the Hindu. The Ghats are 
 so called from their terraced ledges, rising one above 
 another from the shores of the ocean like the stairs 
 leading up from a pool. In achieving the ascent of these 
 gigantic stairs all the expedients of road-makers have 
 been resorted to : the zigzag, the trestle, the tunnel, the 
 curve, have been pushed to their utmost applications ; 
 for five continuous miles on the Thull Ghat Incline there 
 is a grade of one in thirty-seven, involving many trying 
 curves, and on nineteen miles of the Bhore Ghat Incline 
 there are thirty tunnels. 
 
 That which gives tone and character to a general 
 view of the interior of a railway-car in travelling is, from 
 the nature of things, the head-covering of the occupants, 
 for it is this which mostly meets the eye ; and no one 
 who has travelled in the United States, for example, can 
 have failed to observe the striking difference between the 
 aspect of a car in the South, where the felt slouch pre 
 vails, and of one in the North, where the silk hat is more 
 affected. But cars full of turbans ! There were turbans 
 of silk, of muslin, of woollen ; white turbans, red, green, 
 and yellow turbans ; turbans with knots, turbans with 
 ends hanging ; neat turbans, baggy turbans, preternatural 
 turbans, and that curious spotted silk inexpressible mitre 
 which the Parsee wears. 
 
 Bhima Gandharva was good enough to explain to me 
 
Sketches of I ndia 165 
 
 the turban ; and really, when within bounds, it is not so 
 nonsensical a headdress as one is apt at first to imagine. 
 It is a strip of cloth from nine to twelve inches wide, 
 and from fifteen to twenty- five yards long. They are 
 known, however, of larger dimensions, reaching to a yard 
 in width and sixty yards in length. The most common 
 color is white; next, perhaps, red, and next yellow; 
 though green, blue, purple, and black are worn, as are 
 also buff, shot colors, and gray, these latter being usually 
 of silk ; but this does not exhaust the varieties, for there 
 are many turbans made of cotton cloth printed in 
 various devices to suit the fancies of the wearers. 
 
 " The puttee-dar (pugri, or turban)," continued my 
 companion, "is a neat compact turban, in general use 
 by Hindus and Mohammedans; \hz.joore-dar\<$> like the 
 puttee-dar, except that it has the addition of a knot on 
 the crown; the khirkee-dar is the full-dress turban of 
 gentlemen attached to native courts ; the nustalik is a 
 small turban which fits closely to the head, and is worn 
 for full dress at the Mohammedan durbars, or royal re 
 ceptions ; the mundeel is the military turban, with stripes 
 of gold and ends ; the sethi is like the nustalik, and is 
 worn by bankers; the shumla is a shawl-turban; and 
 I fear you do not care to know the other varieties the 
 morassa, the umamu, the dustar, the " 
 
 "Thank you," I said, "life is short, my dear Bhima, 
 and I shall know nothing but turbans if this goes on, 
 which will be inconvenient, particularly when I return 
 to my home and my neighbor Smith asks me that ghastly 
 question, What do I think of India? " 
 
 " It is a more < ghastly question as to India than as to 
 any other country in the world," said the Hindu. " Some 
 years ago, when Mr. Dilke was travelling in this country, 
 
1 66 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 a witty officer of one of the hill-stations remarked to 
 him that all general observations abotit India were absurd. 
 This is quite true. How could it be otherwise? Only 
 consider, for example, the languages of India, the 
 Assamese, with its two branches of the Deccan-gol and 
 the Uttar-gol; the Bengalee; the Maithilee, Tirhutiya, 
 or Tirabhucti, spoken between the Coosy and the Gun- 
 duck ; the Orissan, of the regions around Cuttack ; the 
 Nepalese ; the Kosalese, about Almora ; the Dogusee, 
 between Almora and Cashmere ; the Cashmiran ; the 
 Panjabee; the Mooltanee, or Vuchee, on the middle 
 Indus; the two dialects of Sindhi, or Tatto, on the 
 lower Indus; the Cutche", on the west coast of the 
 peninsula ; the Guserate", spoken on the islands of Sal- 
 sette and Bombay and the opposite coast of the Coucan, 
 as well as by the Parsees in the cities, where it is cor 
 rupted with many words of other languages through the 
 influence of commercial relations ; the Coucane", from 
 Bombay to Goa and along the parallel Ghats, where it 
 is called Ballagate ; the Bikaneere", the Marvare", the 
 Jeypore", the Udayapore", of Rajpootana ; the Vraja- 
 bhasha (the cow-pen language) of the Doab, between 
 the Ganges and the Jumna, which is probably the parent 
 of Hindi (or Oordii) ; the Malooe", of the tableland of 
 Malwa ; the Bundelakhande", of the Bundelkhand ; the 
 Mogadhe, of Behar; the Maharachtre", of the country 
 south of the Vindhyas ; the " 
 
 " It gives me pain to interrupt you, Bhima Gand- 
 harva," I said (fervently hoping that this portion of my 
 remark might escape the attention of the recording 
 angel), "but I think we are at Jabalpur." 
 
 Apropos of Jubbulpoor, it is well enough to remark 
 that by the rules of Indian orthography which are now 
 
Sketches of India 167 
 
 to be considered authentic, the letter " a " without an 
 accent has a sound equivalent to short "u," and a 
 vowel with an acute accent has what is usually called its 
 long sound in English. Accordingly, the word written 
 "Jabalpur" should be pronounced as if retaining the 
 " u " and the " oo " with which it was formerly written, 
 " Jubbulpoor." The termination pur, so common in 
 the designation of Indian places, is equivalent to that 
 of ville in English, and means the same. The other 
 common termination, abad, means " dwelling " or " resi 
 dence " : e. g. t Ahmedabad, the residence of Ahmed. 
 
 Jabalpur is but about a mile from the right bank of 
 the Nerbada (Nerbudda) River ; and as I wished to see 
 the famous Marble Rocks of that stream, which are 
 found a short distance from Jabalpur, my companion 
 and I here left the railway, intending to see a little of 
 the valley of the Nerbada and then to strike across the 
 Vindhyas, along the valley of the Tonsa, to Bhopal, 
 making our journey by such slow, irregular and easy 
 stages as should be compatible with that serene and 
 philosophic disposition into which the Hindu s beautiful 
 gravity had by this time quite converted my American 
 tendencies toward rushing through life at the killing 
 pace. 
 
 It was a little past midday when we made our first 
 journey along the river between the Marble Rocks. 
 Although the weather was as nearly perfect as weather 
 could be, the mornings being deliciously cool and brac 
 ing and the nights cold enough to produce often a thin 
 layer of ice over a pan of water left exposed till daybreak, 
 yet the midday sun was warm enough, especially after a 
 walk, to make one long for leaves and shade and the 
 like. It would be difficult, therefore, to convey the 
 
1 68 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 sensations with which we reclined at our ease in a flat- 
 bottomed punt while an attendant poled us up toward 
 the " Fall of Smoke/ where the Nerbada leaps out 
 eagerly toward the low lands he is to fertilize, like a 
 young poet anxious to begin his work of grace in the 
 world. On each side of us rose walls of marble a hun 
 dred feet in height, whose pure white was here and there 
 striped with dark green or black : all the colors which 
 met the eye the marmoreal whites, the bluish grays of 
 the recesses among the ledges, the green and black 
 seams, the limpid blue of the stream were grateful, 
 calm-toned, refreshing ; we inhaled the coolness as if it 
 had been a mild aroma out of a distant flower. This 
 pleasant fragrance, which seemed to come up out of all 
 things, was presently intensified by a sort of spiritual 
 counterpart, a gentle breath that blew upon us from 
 the mysterious regions of death ; for on a ghat we saw a 
 small company of Hindus just launching the body of a 
 pious relative into the waters of Mother Nerbadd in all 
 that freedom from grief, and even pleasant contempla 
 tion, with which this singular people regard the transition 
 from present to future existence. These corpses, how 
 ever, which are thus committed to the wave, do not 
 always chime so happily in with the reveries of boating- 
 parties on the Nerbada. The Marble Rocks are often 
 resorted to by picnic parties in the moonlit evenings ; 
 and one can easily fancy that to have a dusky dead body 
 float against one s boat and sway slowly round alongside 
 in the midst of a gay jest or of a light song of serenade, 
 as is said to have happened not unfrequently here, is not 
 an occurrence likely to heighten the spirits of revellers. 
 Occasionally, also, the black, ugly double snout of the 
 magar (or Nerbada crocodile) may pop up from the 
 
Sketches of India 169 
 
 surface, which may here serve as a warning to the young 
 lady who trails her hand in the water and I have yet 
 to be in a boating-party where the young lady did not 
 trail her hand in the water that on the Nerbada it is 
 perhaps as well to resign an absent-minded hand to the 
 young officer who sits by her in the boat lest Magar 
 should snap it off. 
 
 Leaving the Nerbada we now struck off northward 
 toward the Tonsa, intending to pass round by way of 
 Dumoh, Sangor, Bhilsa, and Sanchi to Bhopal. We 
 might have pursued a route somewhat more direct by 
 following directly down the valley of the Nerbada to 
 Hoshangabad, and thence straight across to Bhopal, but 
 my companion preferred the circuitous route indicated, 
 as embracing a greater variety of interesting objects. 
 He had procured for our conveyance a vehicle which 
 was in all respects suitable to the placidity of his temper ; 
 and I make bold to confess that, American as I am 
 born on the railroad, so to speak I have never enjoyed 
 travelling as I did in this novel carriage. It was what is 
 called a chapaya. It consisted of a body nearly ten feet 
 in length by more than five in breadth, and was canopied 
 by a top supported upon sculptured pillars of wood. 
 The wheels were massive and low. There were no 
 springs ; but this deficiency was atoned for by the thick 
 cushionment of the rear portion of the vehicle, which 
 allowed us to lie at full length in luxurious ease as we 
 rolled along. Four white bullocks, with humps and 
 horns running nearly straight back on the prolongation 
 of the forehead line, drew us along in a very stately 
 manner at the rate of something like a mile and a half 
 an hour. 
 
 We were now in the G6ndwana, in some particulars 
 
170 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 one of the most interesting portions of the country. 
 Here are the Highlands of Central India ; here rise the 
 Nerbada and the Tapti which flow to the westward 
 in a generally parallel direction, and empty into the 
 Gulf of Cambaye, the one at Broode and the other at 
 Surat as well as the Son, the Keyn (or Cane) and the 
 Tonsa, which flow northward into the Jumna. The 
 valley of the Keyn and that of the Tonsa here run across 
 the Vindhyas, which are known to the eastward of this 
 as the Kyrmores, and afford communication between 
 Northern and Southern India. It is along the depres 
 sion of the latter stream that the railway has been built 
 from Jabalpur to Allahabad. 
 
 The eight hundred thousand G6nds of the G6ndwana 
 are supposed to be members of the great autochthonal 
 family of ancient India. These hills of the G6ndwana 
 country appear to have been considered by the incoming 
 Aryans for a long time as a sort of uncanny land, whose 
 savage recesses were filled with demons and snakes ; 
 indeed, in the epics of the Mahabharata and Ramayana 
 this evil character is attributed to that portion of India 
 lying south of the Vindhyas. The forest of Spenser s 
 Fairy Queen, in which wandering knights meet with 
 manifold beasts and maleficent giants and do valorous 
 battles against them in the rescue of damsels and the 
 like such seem to have been the G6ndwana woods to 
 the ancient Hindu imagination. It was not distressed 
 damsels, however, whom they figured as being assisted 
 by the arms of the errant protectors, but religious 
 devotees who dwelt in the seclusion of the forest, and 
 who were protected from the pranks and machinations 
 of the savage denizens by opportune heroes of the 
 northern race. It appears, however, that the native 
 
Sketches of India 171 
 
 demons of the G6ndwana had fascinating daughters; 
 for presently we find the rajahs from the north coming 
 down and marrying them ; and finally, in the fourteenth 
 and fifteenth centuries, the keen urgency of the con 
 quering Mohammedans sends great numbers of Rajputs 
 down into the G6ndwana, and a considerable mixture of 
 the two bloods takes place. With this incursion of 
 Hindu peoples come also the Hindu gods and tenets ; 
 and Mahadeo, the " great god," whose home had been 
 the Kailas of the Himalayas, now finds himself domesti 
 cated in the mountains of Central India. In the Maha 
 deo mountain is still a shrine of Siva, which is much 
 visited by pilgrims and worshippers. 
 
 The G6nd he who lives back in the hills far off from 
 the neighborhood of the extensive planting districts, 
 which have attracted many of those living near them to 
 become at least half-civilized laborers in harvest- time 
 is a primitive being enough. 
 
 "Only look," said Bhima Gandharva, "at that hut if 
 you desire to see what is perhaps one of the most prim 
 itive houses since ever the banyan tree gave to man (as 
 is fabled) the idea of sheltering himself from the elements 
 artificially." It was simply made of stakes driven into 
 the ground, between which were wattled branches. This 
 structure was thatched with grass, and plastered with mud. 
 
 The G6nd, like the American Indian, has his little 
 patch of grain, which he cultivates, however, in a fashion 
 wholly his own. His sole instrument of agriculture 
 seems to be the axe. Selecting a piece of ground which 
 presents a growth of small and easily-cut saplings and 
 perhaps, by the way, thus destroying in a few hours a 
 whole cargo of teak trees worth more than all the crops 
 of his agricultural lifetime he hews down the growth, 
 
172 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 and in the dry season sets fire to the fallen timber. The 
 result is a bed of ashes over a space of two or three 
 acres. His soil is now ready. If the patch thus pre 
 pared happens to be level, he simply flings out a few 
 handfuls of grain, coarse rice, kutki (ponicum) or k6don 
 (paspalum), and the thing is done. The rest is in the 
 hands of the god who sends the rains. If the patch be 
 on a declivity, he places the grain at the upper part, 
 where it will be washed down by the rains over the bal 
 ance of the field. Next year he will burn some more 
 wood the first burning will have left many charred 
 stumps and trunks, which he supplements with a little 
 wood dragged from other parts of the forest on the 
 same spot, and so the next year, by which time it will 
 become necessary to begin a new clearing, or dhya. 
 The dhya thus abandoned does not renew the original 
 growth which clothed it, like the pinelands of the 
 Southern United States, which, if allowed to run waste 
 after having been cleared and cultivated, clothe them 
 selves either with oaks or with a wholly different species 
 of pine from the original growth. The waste dhya, 
 which may have perhaps nourished a splendid growth of 
 teak, becomes now only a dense jungle. 
 
 The G6nd also raises pumpkins and beans ; and this 
 vegetable diet he supplements with game ensnared in 
 the dhyas, to which peafowl, partridges, hares, and the 
 like resort. Many of the villages, however, have a 
 professional huntsman, who will display the most in 
 credible patience in waiting with his matchlock for the 
 game to appear. 
 
 Besides these articles of diet the aborigines of the 
 G6ndwana have their mhowa tree, which stands them in 
 much the same multifarious stead as the palm does to 
 
Sketches of India 173 
 
 its beneficiaries. The flowers of the mhowa fall and 
 are eaten, or are dried and pressed, being much like 
 raisins : they also produce a wine by fermentation and 
 the strong liquor of the hill-people by distillation. Of 
 the seed, cakes are made and an oil is expressed from 
 them which is an article of commerce. 
 
 In addition, the poor G6nd appears to have a periodi 
 cal godsend resulting from a singular habit of one of the 
 great Indian plants. The bamboo is said to undergo 
 a general seeding every thirty years; at this period, 
 although, in the mean time, many individual bamboos 
 may have passed through the process of reproduction, 
 it is said that the whole bamboo growth of a section will 
 simultaneously drop its leaves and put forth large pan 
 icles of flowers, after which come great quantities of 
 seeds much like rice. These are gathered for food by 
 the inhabitants with all the greater diligence in conse 
 quence of a tradition which, however, does not seem 
 to be at all supported by facts that the general seed 
 ing of the bamboo portends a failure of the regular 
 crops. The liberal forests of the G6ndwana furnish 
 still other edibles to their denizens. The ebony plums, 
 the wild mango, the seeds of the sal tree, the beans 
 of the giant bauhinia creeper, a species of arrowroot, 
 and a wild yam, are here found and eaten. 
 
 It is not long since the G6nds had arrived at a mel 
 ancholy condition under the baleful influences of the 
 kulars, or liquor-dealers, who resided among them and 
 created an extraordinary demand for their intoxicating 
 wares by paying for service and for produce in liquor. 
 The kulars have, however, been thrown into the back 
 ground by wise efforts toward their suppression, and 
 matters have improved for the poor autochthones. 
 
174 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 We spent our first night in our chapaya, my com 
 panion having so arranged matters that we were quite 
 independent of the bungalows which the Englishmen 
 have erected at suitable distances along the great roads 
 for the convenience of travellers. The night was clear ; 
 betwixt the corner pillars which upheld our canopy a 
 thousand friendly salutations from the stars streamed in 
 upon us ; the tranquil countenance of my friend seemed, 
 as he lay beside me, like the face of the Past purified of 
 old errors and calm with great wisdom got through 
 great tribulation, insomuch that betwixt the Hindu and 
 the stars I felt myself to be at once in communication 
 with antiquity and with eternity. 
 
 Thus we pursued our ambulatory meditations through 
 the G6ndwana. If we had been sportsmen, we should 
 have found full as varied a field for the bagging of game 
 as for that more spiritual hunt after new ideas and sen 
 sations in which we were engaged. Gray quail, gray 
 partridges, painted partridges (Francolinus pictus} y snipe, 
 and many varieties of water-fowl, the sambor, the black 
 antelope, the Indian gazelle or ravine deer, the gaur or 
 Indian bison, chewing the cud in the midday shade or 
 drinking from a clear stream, troops of nilgae springing 
 out from the long grass and dwarf growth of polas and 
 jujube trees which covered the sites of abandoned vil 
 lages and fields, all these revealed themselves to us 
 in the most tempting situations. But although I had 
 been an ardent devotee of the double-barrel, the large 
 and manly tenderness which Bhima Gandharva invari 
 ably displayed toward all animals, whether wild or tame, 
 had wrought marvels upon me, and I had grown fairly 
 ashamed nay, horrified at the idea that anything 
 which a generous and brave man could call sport should 
 
Sketches of India 175 
 
 consist wholly in the most keen and savage cruelties 
 inflicted upon creatures whom we fight at the most un- 
 knightly odds, we armed, they unarmed. While I knew 
 that our pleasures are by the divine order mostly dis 
 tillations from pain, I could not now help recognizing at 
 the same time that this circumstance was part of an 
 enormous plan which the slaughter of innocent creatures 
 in the way of " sport " did in no wise help to carry out. 
 
 The truth is, although I had been for some days waver 
 ing upon the brink of these conclusions in a quiet way, 
 I found the old keen ardor of the sportsman still burning 
 too strongly, and I had started out with a breech-loader, 
 intent upon doing much of the G6ndwana route gun in 
 hand. It was not long before a thoughtless shot operated 
 to bring my growing convictions sharply face to face 
 with my decreasing practice, and thus to quite frown the 
 latter out of existence. It happened in this wise : One 
 day, not far from sunset, I was walking idly along behind 
 the chapaya, in which Bhima Gandharva was dreamily 
 reclining, when suddenly a pair of great saras cranes 
 rose from the low banks of a small stream and sailed 
 directly across the road. Quick as thought indeed, 
 quicker than thought ; for if I had thought, I would not 
 have done it I fired, and brought down one of the 
 monstrous birds. As I started to approach it, Bhima 
 Gandharva said, in a tone just a trifle graver than usual, 
 " Stop ! wait a moment," and at the same time halted 
 the chapaya. The mate of the bird I had shot, seeing 
 him fall, alighted on the same spot, then flew up, then 
 returned, flew up again, returned again, with an exhibi 
 tion of sad and lingering affection of which I had not 
 dreamed, and which penetrated me beyond expression ; 
 so I stood half stolid outwardly and wholly ashamed and 
 
176 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 grieved inwardly. "The saras," said my friend, "is the 
 type of conjugal affection among the Hindus. The birds 
 nearly always go in pairs ; and when one is killed, the 
 other invariably makes those demonstrations of tender 
 ness which you have just seen." 
 
 As we journeyed along in the dusk came notes from 
 another pair of feathered lovers, " chukwa, chukwi," 
 " chukwa, chukwi," in a sort of mournful alternation. 
 They were the branning ducks, he on one side, she on 
 the other side of the stream, as is their habit, whence 
 they are fabled to be a pair of lovers who must yearn 
 unavailingly through the long nights from opposite banks 
 of the river. 
 
 That night, when Bhima Gandharva was asleep, I 
 gently arose, took my double-barrel thou dear Man- 
 ton ! how often has not Jonesville admired thee returning 
 from the field at late evening slanting at a jaunty angle 
 high above my bagful of snipe or of quail as the case 
 might be! yes, I took this love of a gun, together 
 with the cartridges, accoutrements, and all other rights, 
 members, and appurtenances thereunto belonging or in 
 any wise appertaining, and slid the whole lot softly into 
 a deep green pool of the very stream from which had 
 flown my saras. 
 
 The taste of gypsy life which I was now enjoying con 
 tributed to add a sort of personal element to that gen 
 eral interest which hangs about the curious Banjaris, 
 whom we met constantly, with their families and their 
 bullocks, along our road. Banjara is literally "forest- 
 wanderer." The women were especially notable for 
 their tall stature, shapely figures, and erect carriage ; 
 which circumstances are all the more wonderful from 
 the life of hardship which they lead, attending as they 
 
Sketches of India 177 
 
 do at once to the foraging of the cattle, the culinary 
 preparations for the men, and the cares of the children. 
 From the profusion of ornaments which they wore one 
 may imagine, however, that they were well cared for by 
 their lords in return for their affectionate labors; and 
 the general bearing of .the tall Banjara who bore a long 
 two-handed sword gave evidence of a certain inward 
 sense of protection over his belongings which probably 
 found vent in many an affectionate gift of rings and 
 bracelets to his graceful partner. It must be confessed 
 that the gypsy ing of these Eastern Bohemians is not so 
 free a life as is popularly supposed. The naik, or sov 
 ereign, of each tanda, or camp, seems to be possessed of 
 absolute power, and in this connection the long two- 
 handed sword suggested much less gentle reflections. 
 The Banjara, however, though a nomad, is a serviceable 
 one, for he is engaged in trade. With his bullocks he 
 is the carrier of Central India, and is to be met with 
 all over that section bringing salt and other commod 
 ities and returning with interior produce. 
 
 Ill 
 
 THUS we fared leisurely along. We passed Cabul 
 merchants peddling their dried fruit on shaggy- haired 
 camels ; to these succeeded in more lonesome portions 
 of the road small groups of Korkas, wretched remnants of 
 one of the autochthonal families of Central India even 
 lower in the scale of civilization than the G6nds among 
 whom they are found; and to these the richly-capari 
 soned elephants of some wealthy Bhopal gentleman mak 
 ing a journey. We lingered long among the marvellous 
 old Buddhistic topes or tumuli of Sanchi, and I interestecl 
 
 12 
 
178 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 my companion greatly in describing the mounds of the 
 United States, with which I was familiar, and whose re 
 semblance to these richly-sculptured and variously orna 
 mented ruins, though rude and far off, was quite enough 
 to set his active fancy to evolving all manner of curious 
 hypotheses going to explain such similarity. The whole 
 way, by Sangor, Gharispore, Bhilsa, Sanchi, Sonori, pre 
 sented us with the most interesting relics of the past, and 
 the frequent recurrence of the works of the once prevalent 
 Buddhistic faith continually incited us to new discussions 
 of the yet unsolved question, Why has Buddha s religion, 
 which once had such entire possession of this people s 
 hearts, so entirely disappeared from the land? 
 
 And, as nothing could be more completely contrasted 
 with the desert asceticism which Buddha s tenets incul 
 cated than the luxury into which Mohammed s creed has 
 flowered, so nothing could have more strikingly broken 
 in upon our discussions of the Buddhistic monuments 
 than the view which we at last obtained of the lovely 
 Mohammedan city of Bhopal. To the south and east 
 ran a strip of country as barren and heartacheish as if the 
 very rocks and earth had turned Buddhist, beyond which 
 a range of low rounded hills, not unlike topes, completed 
 the ascetic suggestion. But, turning from this, we saw 
 Mohammedanism at its very loveliest. Minarets, domes, 
 palaces, gardens, the towers of the citadel, waters of 
 lovely lakes, all mingled themselves together in the volup 
 tuous light of the low sun : there was a sense of music, 
 of things that sparkled, of pearly lustres, of shimmering 
 jewels, of softness, of delight, of luxury. Bhopal looked 
 over the ragged valley like a sultan from the window of 
 his zenana regarding afar off an unkempt hermit in his 
 solitude. 
 
Sketches of India 179 
 
 My companion had arranged for permission to enter 
 the town, and it was not long ere we were installed in the 
 house of a friend of Bhima Gandharva s, whose guests we 
 remained during our stay in Bhopal. 
 
 On a rock at the summit of a hill commanding this 
 interesting city stands the fort of Fatehgarh, built by a 
 certain Afghan adventurer, Dost Mohammed Khan, who, 
 in a time when this part of India must have been a per 
 fect paradise for all the free lances of the East, was so for 
 tunate as to win the favor of Aurungzebe, and to receive 
 as evidence thereof a certain district in Malwa. The 
 Afghan seems to have lost no time in improving the 
 foothold thus gained, and he thus founded the modern 
 district of Bhopal, which was formerly divided between 
 Malwa and G6ndwana, one gate of the town standing in 
 the former and one in the latter country. Dost Moham 
 med Khan appears, indeed, to have been not the only 
 adventurer who bettered his fortunes in Bhopal. It is a 
 curious fact, and one well illustrating the liberality which 
 has characterized much of the more modern history of 
 the Bhopal government, that no long time ago it was 
 administered by a regency consisting of three persons, 
 one a Hindu, one a Mohammedan, and the other a 
 Christian. This Christian is mentioned by Sir John 
 Malcolm as " Shahzed Musseah, or Belthazzar Bour- 
 bona " (by which Sir John means Shahzahad Messiah 
 a native appellation signifying " the Christian prince ") , 
 or Balthazar of Bourbon, and is described by that 
 officer, to whom he was well known, as a brave soldier 
 and an able man. He traced his lineage to a certain 
 Frenchman calling himself John of Bourbon, who in the 
 time of Akbar was high in favor and position at Delhi. 
 His widow, the princess Elizabeth of Bourbon, still 
 
180 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 resides at Bhopal in great state, being possessed of abun 
 dant wealth and ranking second only to the Begum. She 
 is the acknowledged head of a large number of descend 
 ants of John of Bourbon, amounting to five or six hun 
 dred, who remain at Bhopal and preserve their faith 
 having a church and Catholic priest of their own as 
 well as the traditions of their ancestry, which, according 
 to their claim, allies them to the royal blood of France. 
 
 No mention of Bhopal can fail to pay at least a hasty 
 tribute in commemoration of the forcible character and 
 liberal politics of the Begum, who has but of late gone to 
 her account after a long and sometimes trying connection 
 with the administration of her country s affairs. After 
 the death of her husband who was accidentally killed 
 by a pistol in the hands of a child not long after the 
 treaty with the English in 1818 their nephew, then in 
 his minority, was considered as the future nawab, and 
 was betrothed to their daughter, the Begum being regent 
 during his minority. When the time came, with his 
 majority, for the nuptials, the Begum refused to allow the 
 marriage to take place, for reasons which need not here 
 be detailed. After much dispute a younger brother of 
 the nephew was declared more eligible, but the Begum 
 still managed in one way or another to postpone matters, 
 much to his dissatisfaction. An arbitration finally resulted 
 in placing him on the throne, but his reign was short 
 and he died after a few years, leaving the Begum again 
 in practical charge of affairs, a position which she 
 improved by instituting many wise and salutary reforms 
 and bringing the state of Bhopal to a condition of great 
 prosperity. The Pearl Mosque (Monti Masjid} , which 
 stands immediately in front of the palace, was built at 
 her instance in imitation of the great cathedral-mosque 
 
Sketches of India 181 
 
 of Delhi, and presents a charming evidence of her 
 taste, as well as of the architectural powers still existing 
 in this remarkable race. 
 
 The town proper of Bhopal is inclosed by a much- 
 decayed wall of masonry some two miles in circuit, within 
 which is a fort similar both in its condition and material 
 to the wall. Outside these limits is a large commercial 
 quarter (gunge) . The beautiful lake running off past the 
 town to the south is said to be artificial in its origin, 
 and to have been produced at the instance of Bho Pal, 
 the minister of King Bohoje, as long ago as the sixth 
 century, by damming up the waters of the Bess (or Besali) 
 River, for the purpose of converting an arid section into 
 fertile land. It is still called the Bhopal Tal. 
 
 If this were a ponderous folio of travel, one could 
 detail the pleasures and polite attentions of one s Bho- 
 palese host ; of the social utter-pan f of the sprinklings 
 with rose-water; of the dreamy talks over fragrant 
 hookahs ; of the wanderings among bazaars filled with 
 moving crowds of people hailing from all the ports that 
 lie between Persia and the G6ndwana ; of the fetes where 
 the nautch-girl of Baroda contended in graceful emula 
 tion with the nautch-girl of Ulwur, and the cathacks (or 
 male dancers) with both ; of elegantly-perfumed Bho- 
 palese young men ; of the palaces of nobles guarded by 
 soldiers whose accoutrements ranged from the musket to 
 the morion ; of the Moharum, when the Mohammedan 
 celebrates the New Year. But what would you have? 
 A sketch is a sketch. We have got only to the heart of 
 India : the head and the whole prodigious eastern side 
 are not yet reached. It is time one were off for Jhansi. 
 
 At Bioura we encountered modern civilization again in 
 the shape of the southwest branch of the Grand Trunk 
 
1 82 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 road, which leads off from the main stem at Agra. The 
 Grand Trunk is not a railroad but a firm and smooth 
 highway with which the English have united Calcutta to 
 the Northwest Provinces and to the west of India. 
 Much of this great roadway is metalled with kunkur, an 
 oolitic limestone found near the surface of the soil in 
 Hindustan ; and all Anglo-India laughed at the joke of 
 an irreverent punster, who, apropos of the fact that 
 this application of kunkur to the road-bed was made 
 under the orders of Lord William Bentinck, then gov 
 ernor-general, dubbed that gentleman William the 
 Kunkurer. 
 
 We had abandoned our chapaya which, we may 
 add for the benefit of future travellers, we had greatly 
 improved as against jolting by causing it to be suspended 
 upon a pair of old springs which we found, a relic of 
 some antique break-down, in a village on the route 
 and after a short journey on elephants were travelling 
 dak, that i3 } by post. The ddk-gharri is a comfortable- 
 enough long carriage on four wheels, and constitutes the 
 principal mode of conveyance for travellers in India 
 besides the railway. It contains a mattress inside, for it 
 goes night and day, and one s baggage is strapped on 
 top, much as in an American stage-coach after the " boot " 
 is full. Frequent relays of horses along the route 
 enable the driver to urge his animals from one station 
 to the other with great speed, and the only other stop 
 pages are at the ^^-bungalows. 
 
 " I have discovered," I said to Bhima Gandharva, 
 after a short experience of the ddk-gharri and the ddk- 
 bungalows "I have discovered a general remark about 
 India which is not absurd : all the horses are devils and 
 all the d#-bungalow servants are patriarchs." 
 
Sketches of India 183 
 
 " If you judge by the heels of the former and the 
 beards of the latter, it is true," he said. 
 
 This little passage was based on the experience of the 
 last relay, which was, however, little more than a repeti 
 tion of many previous ones. My friend and I having 
 arranged ourselves comfortably in the dak-gharri as soon 
 as it was announced ready to start, the long and mar 
 vellously lean Indian who was our driver signified to his 
 team by the usual horse-language that we should be glad 
 to go. The horse did not even agitate his left ear 
 a phenomenon which I associate with a horse in that 
 moment when he is quietly making up his mind to be 
 fractious. "Go, my brother," said the driver, in a melli 
 fluous and really fraternal tone of voice. The horse 
 disdained to acknowledge the tie : he stood still. 
 
 Then the driver changed the relationship, with an 
 access of tenderness in voice and in adjuration. " Go, 
 my son," he entreated. But the son stood as immov 
 able as if he were going to remain a monument of filial 
 impiety to all time. 
 
 "Go, my grandson, my love." This seemed entirely 
 too much for the animal, and produced apparently a sense 
 of abasement in him which was in the highest degree un 
 complimentary to his human kinsman and lover. He 
 lay down. In so doing he broke several portions of the 
 ragged harness, and then proceeded with the most deli 
 berate absurdity to get himself thoroughly tangled in the 
 remainder. 
 
 " I think I should be willing," I said to my com 
 panion, "to carry that horse to Jhansi on my own 
 shoulders if I could have the pleasure of seeing him 
 blown from one of the rajah s cannon in the fort." 
 
 But the driver without the least appearance of dis- 
 
184 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 composure had dismounted, and with his long deft 
 Hindu fingers soon released the animal, patched up his 
 gear, replaced him between the shafts, and resumed 
 his place. 
 
 Another round of consanguinities : the animal still 
 remained immovable, till presently he lunged out with 
 a wicked kick which had nearly obliterated at one blow 
 the whole line of his ancestry and collateral relatives as 
 represented in the driver. At this the latter became as 
 furious as he had before been patient : he belabored the 
 horse, assistants ran from the stables, the whole party 
 yelled and gesticulated at the little beast simultaneously, 
 and he finally broke down the road at a pace which the 
 driver did not suffer him to relax until we arrived at the 
 bungalow where we intended to stop for supper. 
 
 A venerable old Mohammedan in a white beard that 
 gave him the majesty of Moses advanced for the purpose 
 of ascertaining our wants. 
 
 "Had he any mutton-chops?" asked Bhima Gand- 
 harva in Hindustani, the lingua franca of the country. 
 
 " Cherisher of the humble ! no." 
 
 "Any beefsteak?" 
 
 " Nourisher of the poor ! no." 
 
 " Well, then, I hear a chicken," said my friend, 
 conclusively. 
 
 "O great king," said the Mohammedan, turning to 
 me, "there is a chicken." 
 
 In a twinkling the cook caught the chicken ; its head 
 was turned toward Mecca. Bismillah ! O God the 
 Compassionate, the Merciful ! the poor fowl s head flew 
 off, and by the time we had made our ablutions supper 
 was ready. 
 
 Turning across the ridges to the northeastward from 
 
Sketches of India 185 
 
 Sipri, we were soon making our way among the tanks 
 and groves which lie about the walls of Jhansi. Here, 
 as at Poona, there was ever present to me a sense of 
 evil destinies, of blood, of treacheries, which seemed to 
 linger about the trees and the tanks like exhalations 
 from the old crimes which have stained the soil of the 
 country. For Jhansi is in the Bundelcund, and the 
 Bundelcund was born in a great iniquity. The very 
 name which properly is Bundelakhand, or " the coun 
 try of the Bundelas " has a history thickly set about 
 with the terrors of caste, of murder and of usurpation. 
 Some five hundred years ago a certain Rajput prince, 
 Hurdeo Sing, committed the unpardonable sin of marry 
 ing a slave (bundi) , and was in consequence expelled 
 from the Kshatriya caste to which he belonged. He 
 fled with his disgrace into this region, and after some 
 years found opportunity at least to salve his wounds 
 with blood and power. The son of the king into whose 
 land he had escaped conceived a passion for the 
 daughter of the slave wife. It must needs have been 
 a mighty sentiment, for the conditions which Hurdeo 
 Sing exacted were of a nature to try the strongest love. 
 These were, that the nuptial banquet should be pre 
 pared by the unmentionable hands of the slave wife 
 herself, and that the king and his court should partake 
 of it, a proceeding which would involve the loss of 
 their caste also. But the prince loved, and his love 
 must have lent him extraordinary eloquence, for he 
 prevailed on his royal father to accept the disgrace. If 
 one could only stop here and record that he won his 
 bride, succeeded his magnanimous old parent on the 
 throne, lived a long and happy life with his queen, and 
 finally died regretted by his loving people ! But this is 
 
1 86 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 in the Bundelcund, and the facts are, that the treacherous 
 Hurdeo Sing caused opium to be secretly put into all 
 the dishes of the wedding-feast, and when the unsus 
 pecting revellers were completely stupefied by the drug, 
 had the whole party assassinated, after which he pos 
 sessed himself of the throne and founded the Bundel- 
 cund. 
 
 One does not wonder that the hills and forests of 
 such a land became the hiding-places of the strangling 
 Thugs, the home of the poisoning Dacoits, the refuge 
 of conspirators and insurgents, and the terror of Central 
 India. 
 
 As for Jhansi, the district in whose capital we were 
 now sojourning, its people must have tasted many of the 
 sorrows of anarchy and of despotism even in recent 
 times. It was appurtenant no long time ago to the 
 Bundela rajah of Ourcha ; from him it passed by con 
 quest into the possession of the Peishwa. These small 
 districts were all too handy for being tossed over as 
 presents to favorites : one finds them falling about 
 among the greedy subordinates of conquerors like nuts 
 thrown out to school-boys. The Peishwa gave Jhansi to 
 a soubahdar; the British government then appeared, 
 and effected an arrangement by which the soubahdar 
 should retain it as hereditary rajah on the annual pay 
 ment of twenty-four thousand rupees. This so-called 
 rajah, Ramchund Rao, died without issue in 1835. 
 Amid great disputes as to the succession the British 
 arbitrators finally decided in favor of Rugonath Rao; 
 but new quarrels straightway arose, a great cry being 
 made that Rugonath Rao was a leper, and that a leper 
 ought not to be a rajah. His death in some three years 
 settled that difficulty, only to open fresh ones among the 
 
Sketches of India 187 
 
 conflicting claimants. These perplexing questions the 
 British finally concluded quite effectually by assuming 
 charge of the government themselves, though this was 
 attended with trouble, for the stout old mother of Ram- 
 chund Rao made armed resistance from the fort or 
 castellated residence of the rajahs, which stands on its 
 great rock overlooking the town of Jhansi. A com 
 mission finally decreed the succession to Baba Gungha- 
 dar Rao, but retained the substantial power until the 
 revenues had recovered from the depression consequent 
 upon these anarchic disturbances. 
 
 " At any rate," I said, as Bhima Gandharva finished 
 this narrative while we were walking about the burial- 
 place of the rajahs of Jhansi, and occupying ourselves 
 with tracing the curious admixture of Moslem with 
 Hindu architecture presented by the tombs, " these 
 rajahs, if they loved each other but little in life, appear 
 to have buried each other with proper enough obser 
 vances : the cenotaphs are worthy of tenderer remem 
 brances." 
 
 " Yes," he said ; " this part of India is everywhere a 
 land of beautiful tombs which enclose ugly memories. 
 I recall one tomb, however, near which I have spent 
 many hours of tranquil meditation, and which is at once 
 lovely without and within : it is the tomb of the Moslem 
 saint Allum Sayed at Baroda. It was built of stones 
 taken from an old Jain temple, whose ruins are still 
 visible near by ; and with a singular fitness, in view of 
 its material, the Moslem architect has mingled his own 
 style with the Hindu, so that an elegant union of the 
 keen and naked Jain asceticism with the mellower and 
 richer fancy of the luxurious Mohammedan has resulted 
 in a perfect work of that art which makes death lovely 
 
1 88 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 by recalling its spiritual significance. Besides, a holy 
 silence broods about the cactus and the euphorbian 
 foliage, so that a word will send the paroquets, ac 
 customed to such unbroken stillness, into hasty flights, 
 The tomb proper is in the chamber at the centre, 
 enclosed by delicately-trellised walls of stone. I can 
 easily fancy that the soul of Allum Sayed is sitting by 
 his grave, like a faithful dog loath to quit his dead 
 master." 
 
 Jhansi was once in the enjoyment of a considerable 
 trade. The caravans from the Deccan to Furruckabad 
 and other places in the Douab were in the habit of 
 stopping here, and there was much trafficking in the 
 cloths of Chanderi and in bows, arrows, and spears 
 the weapons of the Bundela tribes which were here 
 manufactured. Remnants of the wealth then acquired 
 remain ; and on the evening of the same day when we 
 were wandering among the rajahs tombs, we proceeded 
 to the house of a rich friend of Bhima Gandharva s 
 where we were to witness a nautch, or dance, executed 
 by a wandering troop of Mewati bayaderes. We arrived 
 about nine o clock. A servant sprinkled us with rose- 
 water, and we were ushered into a large saloon, where 
 the bayaderes were seated with a couple of musicians, 
 one of whom played the tam-tam and another a sort 
 of violin. When the family of our host, together with 
 a few friends, were seated at the end of the room 
 opposite the bayaderes, the signal was given and the 
 music commenced with a soft and indescribably lan 
 guorous air. One of the bayaderes rose with a lithe and 
 supple movement of the body not comparable to any 
 thing save the slow separating of a white scud from the 
 main cloud which one sees on a summer s day high up 
 
Sketches of India 189 
 
 in the cirrus regions. She was attired in a short jacket, 
 a scarf, and a profusion of floating stuff that seemed at 
 once to hide and expose. Presently I observed that 
 her jewelry was glittering as it does not glitter when one 
 is still, yet her feet were not moving. I also heard a 
 gentle tinkling from her anklets and bracelets. On 
 regarding her more steadily, I saw that her whole body 
 was trembling in gentle and yet seemingly intense 
 vibrations, and she maintained this singular agitation 
 while she assumed an attitude of much grace, extending 
 her arms and spreading out her scarf in gracefully- 
 waving curves. In these slow and languid changes of 
 posture which accommodated themselves to the music 
 like undulations in running water to undulations in the 
 sand of its bed, and in the strange trembling of her 
 body, which seemed to be an inner miniature dance of 
 the nerves, consisted her entire performance. She 
 intensified the languid nature of her movements by the 
 languishing coquetries of her enormous black eyes, from 
 which she sent piercing glances between half-closed lids. 
 It was a dance which only southern peoples understand. 
 Any one who has ever beheld the slow juba of the negro 
 in the Southern United States will recognize its affinity 
 to these movements, which, apparently deliberate, are 
 yet surcharged with intense energy and fire. 
 
 Her performance being finished, the bayadere was 
 succeeded by others, each of whom appeared to have 
 her specialty, one imitating by her postures a serpent- 
 charmer; another quite unequivocally representing a 
 man-charmer; another rapidly executing what seemed 
 an interminable pirouette. Finally, all joined in a song 
 and a closing round, adding the sound of clapping hands 
 to the more energetic measures of the music. 
 
190 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 " I can now understand," I said when the nautch was 
 finished, " the remark of the shah of Persia which set 
 everybody laughing not long ago in England. During 
 his visit to that country, being present at a ball where 
 ladies and gentlemen were enjoying themselves in a 
 somewhat laborious way in dancing, he finally asked, 
 Why do you not make your servants do this for you ? 
 It is at least entertaining to see a nautch, but to wade 
 through the English interpretation of a waltz, hie labor 
 hoc opus est, and the servants ought to perform it." 
 
 " Do you know," said Bhima Gandharva, " that much 
 the same national mode of thought which prompts the 
 Hindu to have his dancing done by the nautch-girls also 
 prompts him to have his tax-gathering and general gov 
 erning done by the English ? We are often asked why 
 the spectacle has so often been seen of our native princes 
 quietly yielding up their kingdoms to strangers, and even 
 why we do not now rise and expel the foreigner from 
 power over us. The truth is, most Hindus are only 
 glad to get some one else to do the very hard work of 
 governing. The Englishman is always glad to get a 
 French cook, because the French can cook better than 
 the English. Why should not we be also glad to get 
 English governors, when the English govern so much 
 better than the Hindus ? In truth, governing and cook 
 ing are very like the successful ruler, like the success 
 ful cook, has only to consult the tastes of his employers ; 
 and upon any proper theory of politics government be 
 comes just as purely an economic business as cooking. 
 You do not cook your own dinner : why? Because you 
 desire to devote your time to something better and 
 higher. So we do not collect taxes and lay them out 
 for the public convenience, because there are other 
 
Sketches of India 191 
 
 things we prefer to do. I am amazed at the modern 
 ideas of government : it is looked upon as an end, as an 
 objective result in itself, whereas it is really only the 
 merest of means toward leaving a man at leisure to attend 
 to his private affairs. The time will come " and here 
 the Hindu betrayed more energy than I had hitherto 
 ever seen him display " when the world will have its 
 whole governing work done upon contract by those best 
 fitted for it, and when such affairs will be looked upon 
 as belonging simply to the police function of existence, 
 which negatively secures us from harm without at all 
 positively touching the substantial advancement of man s 
 life." 
 
 The next day we fared northward toward Agra, by 
 Duttiah, Gwalior, and Dholepore. Learning at Agra that 
 the northward-bound train for here we had come upon 
 complete civilization again in the East Indian Railway 
 would pass in an hour, we determined to reserve the 
 Taj Mahal (the lovely Pearl Mosque of Agra) until we 
 should be returning from Delhi to Calcutta. Bhima 
 Gandharva desired me, however, to see the Douab 
 country and the old sacred city of Mattra ; and so when 
 we had reached Hatras Station, a few miles north of 
 Agra, we abandoned the railway and struck across to the 
 southwestward toward Mattra, in a hired carriage. 
 
 We were now veritably in ancient Hindustan. It was 
 among these level plains through which we were rolling 
 that the antique Brahmins came and propounded that 
 marvellous system which afterward took the whole 
 heart of the land. Nothing could have been more strik 
 ing than to cast one s eye thus over the wide cotton- 
 fields for one associates cotton with the New and 
 find them cultivated by these bare-legged and breech- 
 
192 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 clouted peasants of the Douab, with ploughs which 
 consisted substantially of a crooked stick shod with iron 
 at the end, and with other such farming-implements out 
 of the time that one thinks of as forty centuries back. 
 Yet in spite of this primitive rudeness of culture, and 
 an aridity of soil necessitating troublesome irrigation, 
 these plains have for a prodigious period of time sup 
 ported a teeming population ; and I could not help 
 crying out to Bhima Gandharva that if we had a few 
 millions of these gentle and patient peasants among the 
 cotton-fields of the United States, the South would 
 quickly become a Garden of Delight, and the planters 
 could build Jammah Masjids with rupees for marble. 
 
 The conservatism which has preserved for so long a 
 time the ancient rude methods of industry begins to 
 grow on one as one passes between these villages of 
 people who seem to be living as if they were perfectly 
 sure that God never intended them to live any other 
 way. 
 
 "It is not long," said my friend, "since a British 
 officer of engineers, on some expedition or other, was 
 encamped for the night at no great distance from here. 
 His tent had been pitched near one of those Persian 
 water-wheels such as you have seen, which, although of 
 great antiquity, are perhaps as ingeniously adapted to 
 the purpose of lifting water as any machine ever invented. 
 The creaking of the wheel annoyed him very much, and 
 after a restless night owing to that cause, he rose and 
 went out of his tent and inquired of the proprietor of 
 the wheel (a native) why in the name of Heaven he 
 never greased it. Because, said the conservative 
 Hindu, I have become so accustomed to the noise that 
 I can only sleep soundly while it is going on \ when it 
 
Sketches of India 193 
 
 stops, then I wake, and knowing from the cessation of 
 the sound that my bullock-driver is neglecting his duty, 
 I go out and beat him. Thus, even the conservation of 
 the useless comes in time to create habits which are 
 useful." 
 
 "It is true," I replied, "and it recalls to me a some 
 what unusual illustration. A summer or two ago a legal 
 friend of mine who is the possessor of a large family of 
 children, came into the court-room one morning with 
 very red eyes, and to my inquiry concerning the cause 
 of the same he replied : To tell you the truth, I can t 
 go to sleep unless a child is crying about the house 
 somewhere ; but my wife left town yesterday for the 
 summer with all the children, and I have n t had a wink 
 the whole night. " 
 
 A drive of some five hours brought us to Mattra after 
 dark, and as we crossed the bridge of boats over the 
 sacred Jumna (the Yamuna of the Sanskrit poems) he 
 seemed indeed thrice holy with his bosom full of stars. 
 Mattra, which lies immediately on the western bank of 
 the river, stands next to Benares among the holy cities 
 of the Hindus ; here both the soil and the river- water 
 are consecrated, for this was the birthplace of Krishna, 
 or, more properly speaking, the scene of that avatar of 
 Vishnu which is known as Krishna. When we rose 
 early in the morning and repaired to the river- bank, 
 hundreds of the faithful were ascending and descending 
 the numerous ghats leading down the high bank to the 
 water, while a still more animated crowd of both sexes 
 were standing up to their middle in the stream, throwing 
 the water in this direction and that, and mingling their 
 personal ablutions with the rites of worship in such a 
 way as might at once clean both souls and bodies. 
 
 13 
 
194 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 Evidences of the holy character of the town met us 
 everywhere as we strolled back to our lodgings. Sacred 
 monkeys, painted red over their hind quarters in con 
 secration to the monkey-god Hanuinan, capered and 
 grinned about us, and sacred bulls obstructed our way 
 along the narrow and dirty streets, while everywhere we 
 saw pictures representing Krishna, sometimes much 
 like an Apollo in the guise of a youthful shepherd play 
 ing the flute to a group of young girls who danced 
 under a tree ; sometimes as a Hercules strangling a ser 
 pent or performing other feats of physical strength. 
 
 Fabulous stories are told of the early wealth and 
 glory of Mattra. Ferishta relates that when Mahmoud 
 of Ghazni had arrived with his troops in the neighbor 
 hood in the year 1017, he heard of this rich city 
 consecrated to Krishna Vasu-Deva, and straightway 
 marching upon it captured it and gave it up to plunder. 
 Writing of it afterward to the governor of Ghazni, he 
 declared that such another city could not be built within 
 two centuries; that it contained one thousand edifices 
 "as firm as the faith of the faithful," and mostly built 
 of marble ; that in one of the temples had been found 
 five golden idols in whose heads were ruby eyes worth 
 fifty thousand dinars; that in another was a sapphire 
 weighing four hundred miskals (the present miskal of 
 Bosrah is seventy two grains), the image itself pro 
 ducing after being melted ninety-eight thousand three 
 hundred miskals of pure gold ; and that besides these 
 there were captured one hundred silver idols, each of 
 which was a camel s load. 
 
 We spent a pleasant morning in wandering about the 
 old ruined fort which was built here by Jey Singh (or 
 Jaya Sinha), the famous astronomer, and we were par- 
 
Sketches of India 195 
 
 ticularly attracted, each in his own contemplative and 
 quiet way, by the ruins of an observatory which we 
 found on the roof of one of the buildings, where the 
 remains of old dials, horizontal circles, and mural in 
 struments lay scattered about. I think the only remark 
 made by either of us was when Bhima Gandharva de 
 clared in a voice of much earnestness, from behind a 
 broken gnomon where he had esconced himself, that he 
 saw Time lying yonder on his back with his head on a 
 broken dial, nearly asleep. 
 
 Returning to Hatras Station on the same day, we 
 again took the train, and this time did not leave it until 
 we had crossed the great tubular bridge over the Jumna 
 and come to a standstill in the station at Delhi. Here 
 we found one of the apparently innumerable friends of 
 Bhima Gandharva, a banker of Delhi, awaiting us with 
 a carriage, and we were quickly driven to his residence, 
 a circumstance, by the way, which I discovered next 
 day to be a legitimate matter of felicitation to myself, 
 for there is, strange to say, no hotel in Delhi for Eu 
 ropeans, travellers being dependent upon the accommo 
 dations of a tf^/-bungalow where one is lodged for a 
 rupee a day. 
 
 In the morning we made an early start for the palace 
 of the padishahs, which stands near the river and indeed 
 may be said to constitute the eastern portion of the 
 city, having a wall of a mile in extent on its three sides, 
 while the other abuts along the offset of the Jumna upon 
 which Delhi is built. Passing under a splendid Gothic 
 arch in the centre of a tower, then along a vaulted aisle 
 in the centre of which was an octagonal court of stone, 
 the whole route being adorned with flowers carved in 
 stone and inscriptions from the Koran, we finally gained 
 
194 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 Evidences of the holy character of the town met us 
 everywhere as we strolled back to our lodgings. Sacred 
 monkeys, painted red over their hind quarters in con 
 secration to the monkey-god Hanuman, capered and 
 grinned about us, and sacred bulls obstructed our way 
 along the narrow and dirty streets, while everywhere we 
 saw pictures representing Krishna, sometimes much 
 like an Apollo in the guise of a youthful shepherd play 
 ing the flute to a group of young girls who danced 
 under a tree ; sometimes as a Hercules strangling a ser 
 pent or performing other feats of physical strength. 
 
 Fabulous stories are told of the early wealth and 
 glory of Mattra. Ferishta relates that when Mahmoud 
 of Ghazni had arrived with his troops in the neighbor 
 hood in the year 1017, he heard of this rich city 
 consecrated to Krishna Vasu-Deva, and straightway 
 marching upon it captured it and gave it up to plunder. 
 Writing of it afterward to the governor of Ghazni, he 
 declared that such another city could not be built within 
 two centuries; that it contained one thousand edifices 
 "as firm as the faith of the faithful," and mostly built 
 of marble ; that in one of the temples had been found 
 five golden idols in whose heads were ruby eyes worth 
 fifty thousand dinars ; that in another was a sapphire 
 weighing four hundred miskals (the present miskal of 
 Bosrah is seventy two grains), the image itself pro 
 ducing after being melted ninety-eight thousand three 
 hundred miskals of pure gold ; and that besides these 
 there were captured one hundred silver idols, each of 
 which was a camel s load. 
 
 We spent a pleasant morning in wandering about the 
 old ruined fort which was built here by Jey Singh (or 
 Jaya Sinha), the famous astronomer, and we were par- 
 
Sketches of India 195 
 
 ticularly attracted, each in his own contemplative and 
 quiet way, by the ruins of an observatory which we 
 found on the roof of one of the buildings, where the 
 remains of old dials, horizontal circles, and mural in 
 struments lay scattered about. I think the only remark 
 made by either of us was when Bhima Gandharva de 
 clared in a voice of much earnestness, from behind a 
 broken gnomon where he had esconced himself, that he 
 saw Time lying yonder on his back with his head on a 
 broken dial, nearly asleep. 
 
 Returning to Hatras Station on the same day, we 
 again took the train, and this time did not leave it until 
 we had crossed the great tubular bridge over the Jumna 
 and come to a standstill in the station at Delhi. Here 
 we found one of the apparently innumerable friends of 
 Bhima Gandharva, a banker of Delhi, awaiting us with 
 a carriage, and we were quickly driven to his residence, 
 a circumstance, by the way, which I discovered next 
 day to be a legitimate matter of felicitation to myself, 
 for there is, strange to say, no hotel in Delhi for Eu 
 ropeans, travellers being dependent upon the accommo 
 dations of a rt^/fc-bungalow where one is lodged for a 
 rupee a day. 
 
 In the morning we made an early start for the palace 
 of the padishahs, which stands near the river and indeed 
 may be said to constitute the eastern portion of the 
 city, having a wall of a mile in extent on its three sides, 
 while the other abuts along the offset of the Jumna upon 
 which Delhi is built. Passing under a splendid Gothic 
 arch in the centre of a tower, then along a vaulted aisle 
 in the centre of which was an octagonal court of stone, 
 the whole route being adorned with flowers carved in 
 stone and inscriptions from the Koran, we finally gained 
 
196 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 the court of the palace in which is situated the Dewani 
 Khas, the famous throne -room which contained the 
 marvellous " peacock throne." I found it exteriorly a 
 beautiful pavilion of white marble crowned by four 
 domes of the same material, opening on one side to the 
 court, on the other to the garden of the palace. On 
 entering, my eye was at first conscious only of a confused 
 interweaving of traceries and incrustations of stones, 
 nor was it until after a few moments that I could bring 
 myself to any definite singling out of particular elements 
 from the general dream of flowing and intricate lines ; 
 but presently I was enabled to trace with more dis 
 criminating pleasure the flowers, the arabesques, the 
 inscriptions which were carved or designed in incrusta 
 tions of smaller stones, or inlaid or gilt on ceiling, arch, 
 and pillar. 
 
 Yet what a sense of utter reverse of fortune comes 
 upon one after the first shock of the beauty of these 
 delicate stone fantasies ! Wherever we went in the 
 Dewani Aum, or hall of audience ; in the Akbari Ham- 
 mun, or imperial baths ; in the Sammam Burj, or private 
 palace of the padishahs, that famous and beautiful palace 
 over whose gate the well-known inscription stands, " If 
 there is a Paradise on earth, it is here ; " in the court, 
 in the garden everywhere was abandonment, every 
 where the filthy occupations of birds, everywhere dirt, 
 decay, desolation. 
 
 It was therefore a prodigious change when, emerging 
 from the main gate of the palace, we found ourselves in 
 the great thoroughfare of Delhi, the Chandni Chowk 
 (literally "Shining street"), which runs straight to the 
 Lahore gate of the city. Here an immense number of 
 daily affairs were transacting themselves, and the Present 
 
Sketches of India 197 
 
 eagerly jostled the Past out of the road. The shops 
 were of a size which would have seemed very absurd to 
 an enterprising American tradesman, and those dealing 
 in the same commodities appeared to be mostly situated 
 together here the shoemakers, there the bankers, and 
 so on. 
 
 The gold-embroidered cloths Delhi is famous for 
 them made me think of those embroidered in stone 
 which we had just seen in the Dewani Khas. These 
 people seem to dream in curves and flowing lines, as 
 the German dreams in chords and meandering tones, 
 the Italian in colors and ripe forms. 
 
 ("And as the American ?" said Bhima Gandharva, 
 with a little smile as we were walking down the Chandni 
 Chowk. 
 
 "The American does not dream yet," I answered.) 
 
 We saw much of the embroidered fabrics known as 
 " kincob " (properly, kunkhwab} and " kalabatu ; " and 
 Bhima Gandharva led me into an inner apartment where 
 a nakad was manufacturing the gold thread (called 
 kalabatoori) for these curious loom embroideries. The 
 kalabatoon consists of gold wire wound about a silk 
 thread ; and nothing could better illustrate the deftness 
 of the Hindu fingers than the motions of the workman 
 whom we saw. Over a polished steel hook hung from 
 the ceiling the end of a reel of slightly twisted silk 
 thread was passed. This end was tied to a spindle with 
 a long bamboo shank, which was weighted and nearly 
 reached the floor. Giving the shank of the spindle a 
 smart roll along his thigh, the workman set it going with 
 great velocity; then applying to the revolving thread 
 the end of a quantity of gold wire which was wound upon 
 a different reel, the gold wire twisted itself in with the 
 
198 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 silk thread and made a length of kalabatoon about as 
 long as the workman. The kalabatoon was then reeled off 
 on a separate reel, and the process continually repeated. 
 
 We stopped at the office of our banker for a moment 
 on our way along the Chandni Chowk in order to effect 
 some changes of money. As we were leaving, Bhima 
 Gandharva inquired if I had observed the young man in 
 the red cotton turban who had politely broken off in our 
 favor a long negotiation with our banker, which he 
 resumed when we had finished our little business. 
 
 "Of course I did," I replied. "What a beautiful 
 young man he was ! His aquiline nose, his fair com 
 plexion, his brilliant eyes, his lithe form, his intelligent 
 and vivacious expression, all these irresistibly attracted 
 me to him." 
 
 " Ha ! " said Bhima Gandharva, as if he were clearing 
 his throat. He grasped my arm : " Come, I thought I 
 saw the young man s father standing near the door as 
 we passed out. I wonder if he will irresistibly attract 
 you?" He made me retrace my steps to the banker s 
 office. "There he is." 
 
 He was the image of the son in feature, yet his face 
 was as repulsive as his son s was beautiful : the Devil 
 after the fall, compared with the angel he was before it, 
 would have presented just such a contrast. 
 
 " They are two Vallabhacharyas," said my companion, 
 as we walked away. " You know that the trading com 
 munity of India, comprehended under the general term 
 of Baniahs, is divided into numerous castes which trans 
 mit their avocations from father to son and preserve 
 themselves free from intermixture with others. The two 
 men you saw are probably on some important business 
 negotiation connected with Bombay or the west of India ; 
 
Sketches of India 199 
 
 for they are Bhattias, who are also followers of the most 
 singular religion the world has ever known, that of the 
 Vallabhacharya or Maharaja sect. These are Epicureans 
 who have quite exceeded, as well in their formal creeds 
 as in their actual practices, the wildest dreams of any of 
 those mortals who have endeavored to make a religion 
 of luxury. They are called Vallabhacharyas, from Valla 
 bha, the name of their founder, who dates from 1479, 
 and dchdrya, a " leader." Their Pushti Marga, or eat- 
 and-drink doctrine, is briefly this : in the centre of 
 heaven (Gouloka) sits Krishna, of the complexion of a 
 dark cloud, clad in yellow, covered with unspeakable 
 jewels, holding a flute. He is accompanied by Roaha, 
 his wife, and also by three hundred millions of Gopis, or 
 female attendants, each of whom has her own palace 
 and three millions of private maids and waiting-women. 
 It appears that once upon a time two over-loving Gopis 
 quarrelled about the god, and, as might be expected in 
 a place so given over to love, they fell from heaven as a 
 consequence. Animated by love for them, Krishna 
 descended from heaven, incarnated himself in the form 
 of Vallabha (founder of the sect), and finally redeemed 
 them. Vallabha s descendants are therefore all gods, 
 and reverence is paid them as such, the number of them 
 being now sixty or seventy. To God belong all things 
 Tan (the body), Man (the mind) and Dhan (earthly 
 possessions). The Vallabhacharyas therefore give up 
 all first to be enjoyed by their god, together with his 
 descendants (the Maharajas, as they royally term them 
 selves) and his representatives, the gosains or priestly 
 teachers. Apply these doctrines logically, and what a 
 carnival of the senses results ! A few years ago one 
 Karsandas Mulji, a man of talent and education, was 
 
2oo Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 sued for libel in the court at Bombay by this sect, whose 
 practices he had been exposing. On the trial the evi 
 dence revealed such a mass of iniquity, such a complete 
 subversion of the natural proprietary feelings of manhood 
 in the objects of its love, such systematic worship of 
 beastly sin, as must forever give the Vallabhachdryas 
 pre-eminence among those who have manufactured 
 authority for crime out of the laws of virtue. For the 
 Vallabhacharyas derive their scriptural sanction from the 
 eighth book of the Bhagavata Purana, which they 
 have completely falsified from its true meaning in their 
 translation called the Prem Sagar, or Ocean of Love. 
 You saw the son ? In twenty years for these people 
 cannot last long trade and cunning and the riot of all 
 the senses will have made him what you saw the father." 
 On the next day we visited the Jammah Mas] id, the 
 " Great Mosque of Shah Jehan the renowned, and the 
 glory of Delhi. Ascending the flight of steps leading to 
 the principal entrance, we passed under the lofty arch of 
 the gateway and found ourselves in a great court four 
 hundred and fifty feet square, paved with red stone, in 
 the centre of which a large basin supplied by several 
 fountains contained the water for ceremonial ablutions. 
 On three sides ran light and graceful arcades, while the 
 fourth was quite enclosed by the mass of the mosque 
 proper. Crossing the court and ascending another mag 
 nificent flight of stone steps, our eyes were soon com 
 manding the facade of the great structure, and revelling 
 in those prodigious contrasts of forms and colors which 
 it presents. No building could, for this very reason, 
 suffer more from that lack of simultaneity which is in 
 volved in any description by words ; for it is the vivid 
 shock of seeing in one stroke of the eye these three 
 
Sketches of India 201 
 
 ripe and luxuriant domes (each of which at the same 
 time offers its own subsidiary opposition of white and 
 black stripes), relieved by the keen heights of the two 
 flanking minarets, it is this, together with the noble 
 admixtures of reds, whites and blacks in the stones, 
 crowned by the shining of the gilded minaret-shafts, 
 which fills the eye of the beholder with a large content 
 of beautiful form and color. 
 
 As one s eye becomes cooler one begins to distinguish 
 in the front, which is faced with slabs of pure white mar 
 ble, the divisions adorned by inscriptions from the Koran 
 inlaid in letters of black marble, and the singularly airy 
 little pavilions which crown the minarets. We ascended 
 one of the minarets by a winding staircase of one hun 
 dred and thirty steps, and here, while our gaze took flight 
 over Delhi and beyond, traversing in a second the 
 achievements of many centuries and races, Bhima Gand- 
 harva told me of the glories of old Delhi. Indranechta 
 as Delhi appears in the fabulous legends of old India, 
 and as it is still called by the Hindus dates its own 
 birth as far back as three thousand years before our era. 
 It was fifty-seven years before the time of Christ that the 
 name of Delhi began to appear in history. Its successive 
 destructions (which a sketch like this cannot even name) 
 left enormous quantities of ruins, and as its successive 
 rebuildings were accomplished by the side of (not upon) 
 these remains, the result has been that from the garden 
 of Shahlimar, the site of which is on the northwest of 
 the town, to beyond the Kantab Minar whose tall 
 column I could plainly distinguish rising up nine miles 
 off to the southwest, the plain of Delhi presents an ac 
 cumulation and variety of ruins not to be surpassed in 
 the whole world. 
 
2O2 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 IV 
 
 THE Koutab Minar, which I had first viewed nine 
 miles off from one of the little kiosquelets crowning the 
 minarets of the Jammah Masjid, improved upon closer 
 acquaintance. One recognizes in the word " minaret " 
 the diminutive of " minar," the latter being to the former 
 as a tower to a turret. This minar of Koutab s it was 
 erected by the Mussulman general Koutab- Oudeen- 
 Eibeg in the year 1200 to commemorate his success 
 over the Rajput emperor Pirthi-Raj is two hundred 
 and twenty feet high, and the cunning architect who 
 designed it managed to greatly intensify its suggestion 
 of loftiness by its peculiar shape. Instead of erecting a 
 shaft with unbroken lines, he placed five truncated cones 
 one upon another in such a way that the impression of 
 their successively lessening diameters should be length 
 ened by the four balconies which result from the pro 
 jection of each lower cone beyond the narrower base of 
 the cone placed on it thus borrowing, as it were, the 
 perspective effects of five shafts and concentrating them 
 upon one. The lower portion, too, shows the near 
 color of red it is built of the universal red sandstone 
 with which the traveller becomes so familiar, while the 
 upper part reveals the farther color of white from its 
 marble casing. Each cone, finally, is carved into reeds, 
 like a bundle of buttresses supporting a weight enormous 
 not by reason of massiveness, but of pure height. 
 
 The group of ruins about the Koutab Minar was also 
 very fascinating to me. The Gate of Aladdin, a verit 
 able fairy portal, with its bewildering wealth of ara 
 besques and flowing traceries in white marble inlaid 
 upon red stones ; the Tomb of Altamsh ; the Mosque of 
 
Sketches of India 203 
 
 Koutab, all these, lying in a singular oasis of trees 
 and greenery that forms a unique spot in the arid and 
 stony ruin-plain of Delhi, drew me with great power. I 
 declared to Bhima Gandharva that it was not often in a 
 lifetime that we could get so many centuries together 
 to talk with at once, and wrought upon him to spend 
 several days with me, unattended by servants, in this 
 tranquil society of the dead ages which still live by 
 sheer force of the beautiful that was in them. 
 
 "Very pretty," said my companion, " but not by force 
 of the beautiful alone. Do you see that iron pillar?" 
 We were walking in the court of the Mosque of Koutab, 
 and Bhima pointed, as he spoke, to a plain iron shaft 
 about a foot in diameter rising in the centre of the en 
 closed space to a height of something over twenty feet. 
 " Its base is sunken deeper in the ground than the 
 upper part is high. It is in truth a gigantic nail, which, 
 according to popular tradition, was constructed by an 
 ancient king who desired to play Jael to a certain Sisera 
 that was in his way. It is related that King Anang Pal 
 was not satisfied with having conquered the whole of 
 Northern India, and that a certain Brahman, artfully seiz 
 ing upon the moment when his mind was foolish with the 
 fumes of conquest, informed him there was but one 
 obstacle to his acquisition of eternal power. What is 
 that ? said King Anang Pal. It is, said the Brah 
 man, the serpent Sechnaga, who lies under the earth 
 and stops it, and who at the same time has charge of 
 Change and Revolution. < Well, and what then? 
 said King Anang Pal. If the serpent were dead there 
 would be no change, said the Brahman. Well, and 
 what then? said King Anang Pal. If you should 
 cause to be constructed a great nail of iron, I will show 
 
204 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 you a spot where it shall be driven so as to pierce the 
 head of the serpent. It was done; and the nail 
 being this column which you now contemplate was 
 duly driven. Then the Brahman departed from the 
 court. Soon the king s mind began to work, to ques 
 tion, to doubt, to harass itself with a thousand specula 
 tions, until his curiosity was inflamed to such a degree 
 that he ordered the nail to be drawn out. With great 
 trouble and outlay this was done ; slowly the heavy mass 
 rose, while the anxious king regarded it. At last the 
 lower end came to his view. Rama ! it was covered 
 with blood. Down with it again ! cries the joyful 
 king ; perhaps the serpent is not yet dead, and is 
 escaping even now. But, alas ! it would not remain 
 stable in any position, pack and shove howsoever they 
 might. Then the wise Brahman returned. O king, 
 said he, in reply to the monarch s interrogatories, your 
 curiosity has cost you your kingdom : the serpent has 
 escaped. Nothing in the world can again give stability 
 to the pillar or to your reign. And it was true. Change 
 still lived, and King Anang Pal, being up, quickly went 
 down. It is from this pillar that yon same city gets its 
 name. In the tongue of these people dilha is, being 
 interpreted, tottering ; and hence Dilhi or Delhi. It 
 must be confessed, however, that this is not the account 
 which the iron pillar gives of itself, for the inscription 
 there declares it to have been erected as a monument of 
 victory by King Dhara in the year 317, and it is known 
 as the Lath (or pillar) of Dhara." 
 
 Next day we took train for Agra, which might be 
 called Shah Jehan s " other city," for it was only after 
 building the lovely monument to his queen the Taj 
 Mahal which has made Agra famous all over the world, 
 
Sketches of India 205 
 
 that he removed to Delhi, or that part of it known as 
 Shahjehanabad. Agra, in fact, first attained its grandeur 
 under Akbar, and is still known among the natives as 
 Akbarabad. 
 
 " But I am all for Shah Jehan," I said, as, after wan 
 dering about the great citadel and palace at the south of 
 the city, we came out on the bank of the Jumna and 
 started along the road which runs by the river to the 
 Taj Mahal. " A prince in whose reign and under whose 
 direct superintendence was fostered the style of archi 
 tecture which produced that little Mouti Mas] id (Pearl 
 Mosque) which we saw a moment ago not to speak 
 of the Jammah Masjid of Delhi which we saw there, or 
 of the Taj which we are now going to see must have 
 been a spacious-souled man, with frank and pure eleva 
 tions of temper within him, like that exquisite white 
 marble superstructure of the Mouti Masjid which rises 
 from a terrace of rose, as if the glow of crude pas 
 sion had thus lifted itself into the pure white of tried 
 virtue." 
 
 A walk of a mile during which my companion 
 reviewed the uglinesses as well as the beauties of the great 
 Mogol reign with a wise and impartial calmness that 
 amounted to an affectionate rebuke of my inconsiderate 
 effusiveness brought us to the main gate of the long 
 red stone enclosure about the Taj. This is itself a work 
 of art in red stone banded with white marble, sur 
 mounted by kiosques, and ornamented with mosaics in 
 onyx and agate. But I stayed not to look at these, nor 
 at the long sweep of the enclosure, crenellated and 
 pavilioned. Hastening through the gate, and moving 
 down a noble alley paved with freestone, surrounded on 
 both sides with trees, rare plants, and flowers, and hav- 
 
206 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 ing a basin running down its length studded with water- 
 jets, I quickly found myself in front of that bewilderment 
 of incrustations upon white marble which constitutes 
 the visitor s first impression of this loveliest of Love s 
 memorials. 
 
 I will not describe the Taj. This is not self-denial : 
 the Taj cannot be described. One can, it is true, inform 
 one s friends that the red stone platform upon which the 
 white marble mausoleum stands runs some nine hundred 
 and sixty feet east and west by three hundred and twenty 
 north and south; that the dome is two hundred and 
 seventy feet high ; that the incrustations with which the 
 whole superstructure is covered without and within are 
 of rock-crystal, chalcedony, turquoise, lapis-lazuli, agate, 
 carnaline, garnet, oynx, sapphire, coral, Pannah, dia 
 monds, jasper, and conglomerates, brought respectively 
 from Malwa, Asia minor, Thibet, Ceylon, Temen, Broach, 
 Bundelcund, Persia, Colombo, Arabia, Pannah, the Pan- 
 jab, and Jessalmir ; that there are, besides the mausoleum, 
 two exquisite mosques occupying angles of the enclosure, 
 the one built because it is the Moslem custom to have a 
 house of prayer near the tomb, the other because the 
 architect s passion for symmetry demanded another to 
 answer to the first, whence it is called Jawab (" the 
 answer " ) ; that out of a great convention of all the 
 architects of the East one Isa (Jesus) Mohammed was 
 chosen to build this monument, and that its erection 
 employed twenty thousand men from 1630 to 1647, at a 
 total cost of twelve millions of dollars ; and, finally, that 
 the remains of the beautiful queen variously known as 
 Mumtazi Mahal, Mumtazi Zemani, and Taj Bibi, as well 
 as those of her royal husband Shah Jehan, who built this 
 tomb to her memory, repose here. 
 
Sketches of India 207 
 
 But this is not description. The only way to get an 
 idea of the Taj Mahal is to go and see it. 
 
 " But it is ten thousand miles ! " you say. 
 
 " But it is the Taj Mahal," I reply with calmness. And 
 no one who has seen the Taj will regard this answer as 
 aught but conclusive. 
 
 But we had to leave it finally it and Agra and 
 after a railway journey of some twelve hours, as we were 
 nearing Allahabad, my companion began, in accordance 
 with his custom, to give me a little preliminary view of 
 the peculiarities of the town. 
 
 "We are now approaching," he said, " a city which 
 distinguishes itself from those which you have seen by the 
 fact that besides a very rich past it has also a very bright 
 future. It is situated at the southern point of the Lower 
 Douab, whose fertile and richly-cultivated plains you have 
 been looking at to-day. These plains, with their wealth, 
 converge to a point at Allahabad, narrowing with the 
 approach of the two rivers the Ganges and the Jumna 
 that enclose them. The Douab, in fact, derives its 
 name from do, "two," and ab, "rivers." But Allahabad, 
 besides being situated at the junction of the two great 
 water-ways of India for here the Jumna unites with 
 the Ganges is also equally distant from the great 
 extremes of Bombay, Calcutta, and Lahore, and here 
 centres the railway system which unites these widely- 
 separated points. Add to this singular union of com 
 mercial advantages the circumstance so important in 
 an India controlled by Englishmen that the climate, 
 though warm, is perfectly wholesome, and you will see 
 that Allahabad must soon be a great emporium of trade." 
 
 " Provided," I suggested, " Benares yonder Benares 
 is too close by to feel uninterested will let it be so." 
 
2o8 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 " Oh, Benares is the holy city. Benares is the blind 
 Teiresias of India ; it has beheld the Divine Form, and 
 in this eternal grace its eyes have even lost the power of 
 seeing those practical advancements which usually allure 
 the endeavors of large cities. Allahabad, although 
 antique and holy also, has never become so wrapped up 
 in religious absorption." 
 
 On the day after our arrival my companion and I were 
 driven by an English friend engaged in the cultivation of 
 indigo to an indigo-factory near the town, in compliance 
 with a desire I had expressed to witness the process of 
 preparing the dye for market. 
 
 " Not long ago," I said to our friend as we were roll 
 ing out of the city, " I was wandering along the banks of 
 that great lagoon of Florida which is called the Indian 
 River, and my attention was often attracted to the 
 evidences of extensive cultivation which everywhere 
 abounded. Great ditches, growths of young forests 
 upon what had evidently been well-ploughed fields within 
 a century past, and various remains of settlements con 
 stantly revealed themselves. On inquiry I learned that 
 these were the remains of those great proprietary indigo- 
 plantations which were cultivated here by English 
 grantees soon after Florida first came under English 
 protection, and which were afterward mournfully aban 
 doned to ruin upon the sudden recession of Florida by 
 the English government." 
 
 " They are ruins of interest to me," said our English 
 friend, " for one of them perhaps some one that you 
 beheld represents the wreck of my great-great-grand 
 father s fortune. He could not bear to stay among the 
 dreadful Spaniards and Indians ; and so, there being 
 nobody to sell to, he simply abandoned homestead, plan- 
 
Sketches of India 209 
 
 tations and all, and returned to England, and, finding 
 soon afterward that the East India Company was earn 
 estly bent upon fostering the indigo-culture of India, he 
 came here and recommenced planting. Since then 
 we Ve all been indigo-planters genuine blue blood, 
 we call ourselves." 
 
 Indigo itself had a very arduous series of toils to 
 encounter before it could manage to assert itself in the 
 world. The ardent advocates of its azure rival, woad, 
 struggled long before they would allow its adoption. In 
 1577 the German government officially prohibited the 
 use of indigo, denouncing it as that pernicious, deceitful, 
 and corrosive substance, the Devil s dye. It had, indeed,, 
 a worse fate in England, where hard names were supple 
 mented by harsh acts, for in 1581 it was not only pro 
 nounced anathema maranatha by act of Parliament, but 
 the people were authorized to institute search for it in 
 their neighbors dye-houses, and were empowered to 
 destroy it wherever found. Not more than two hundred 
 years have passed since this law was still in force. It 
 was only after a determined effort, which involved steady 
 losses for many years, that the East India Company 
 succeeded in re-establishing the culture of indigo in 
 Bengal. The Spanish and French in Central America 
 and the West Indies had come to be large growers, and 
 the production of St. Domingo was very large. But the 
 revolt in the latter island, the Florida disasters, and the 
 continual unsettlement of Mexico, all worked favorably 
 for the planters of India, who may now be called the 
 indigo-producers of the world. 
 
 The seed is usually sown in the latter part of October in 
 Bengal, as soon as the annual deposit of the streams has 
 been reduced by drainage to a practicable consistency, 
 
2io Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 though the sowing- season lasts quite on to the end 
 of November. On dry ground the plough is used, the 
 ryots, or native farm- laborers, usually planting under 
 directions proceeding from the factory. There are two 
 processes of extracting the dye, known as the method 
 "from fresh leaves" and that "from dry leaves." I 
 found them here manufacturing by the former process. 
 The vats or cisterns of stone were in pairs, the bottom 
 of the upper one of each couple being about on a level 
 with the top of the lower, so as to allow the liquid con 
 tents of the former to run freely into the latter. The 
 upper is the fermenting vat, or " steeper," and is about 
 twenty feet square by three deep. The lower is the 
 " beater," and is of much the same dimensions with the 
 upper, except that its length is five or six feet greater. 
 As the twigs and leaves of the plants are brought in 
 from the fields the cuttings are placed in layers in the 
 steeper, logs of wood secured by bamboo withes are 
 placed upon the surface to prevent overswelling, and 
 water is then pumped on or poured from buckets to 
 within a few inches of the top. Fermentation now 
 commences, and continues for fourteen or fifteen hours, 
 varying with the temperature of the air, the wind, the 
 nature of the water used, and the ripeness of the plants. 
 When the agitation of the mass has begun to subside, 
 the liquor is racked off into the lower vat, the " beater," 
 and ten men set to work lustily beating it with paddles 
 (busquets), though this is sometimes done by wheels 
 armed with paddle-like appendages. Meanwhile the 
 upper vat is cleaned out, and the refuse mass of cuttings 
 stored up to be used as fuel or as fertilizing material. 
 After an hour and a halfs vigorous beating the liquor 
 becomes flocculent. The precipitation is sometimes 
 
Sketches of India 21 1 
 
 hastened by lime-water. The liquor is then drained off 
 the dye by the use of filtering-cloths, heat being also 
 employed to drain off the yellow matter and to deepen 
 the color. Then the residuum is pressed in bags, cut 
 into three-inch cubes, dried in the drying-house, and 
 sent to market. 
 
 The dry-leaf process depends also upon maceration, 
 the leaves being cropped from the ripe plant, and dried 
 in the hot sunshine during two days, from nine in the 
 morning until four in the afternoon. 
 
 On the next day, at an early hour in the morning, my 
 companion and I betook us to the Plain of Alms. I 
 have before mentioned that Allahabad, the ancient 
 city of Prayaga, is doubly sanctified because it is at the 
 junction of the Jumna and the Ganges, and these two 
 streams are affluents of its sanctity as well as of its 
 trade. The great plain of white sand which is enclosed 
 between the blue lake-like expanses of the two meeting 
 rivers is the Plain of Alms. In truth, there are three 
 rivers which unite here the Ganges, the Jumna and 
 the Saravasti and this thrice- hallowed spot is known 
 in the Hindu mythologic system as the Triveni. 
 
 "But where is the third?" I asked as we stood 
 gazing across the unearthly-looking reaches of white 
 sand far down the blue sweep of the mysterious waters. 
 
 "Thereby hangs a tale," replied my companion. "It 
 is invisible here, but I will show you what remains of it 
 presently when we get into the fort. Here is a crowd 
 of pilgrims coming to bathe in the purifying waters of 
 the confluence : let us follow them." 
 
 As they reached the shore a Brahman left his position 
 under a great parasol and placed himself in front of the 
 troop of believers, who, without regard to sex, immedi- 
 
212 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 ately divested themselves of all clothing except a 
 narrow cloth about the loins, and followed him into the 
 water. Here they proceeded to imitate his motions, 
 just as pupils in a calisthenic class follow the movements 
 of their teacher, until the ceremonies of purification 
 were all accomplished. 
 
 " A most villainous- faced penitent ! " I exclaimed as 
 one of their number came out, and, as if wearied by 
 his exertions, lay down near us on the sand. 
 
 Bhima Gandharva showed his teeth : " He is what 
 your American soldiers called in the late war a substitute. 
 Some rich Hindu, off somewhere in India, has found the 
 burden of his sins pressing heavily upon him, while at 
 the same time the cares of this world, or maybe bodily 
 infirmities, prevent him from visiting the Triveni. 
 Hence, by the most natural arrangement in the world, 
 he has hired this man to come in his place and accom 
 plish his absolution for him." 
 
 Striking off to the westward from the Plain of Alms, 
 we soon entered the citadel of Akbar, which he built 
 so as to command the junction of the two streams. 
 Passing the Lath (pillar) of Asoka, my companion led 
 me down into the old subterranean Buddhistic temple 
 of Patal Pouri and showed me the ancient Achaya Bat, 
 or sacred tree-trunk, which its custodians declare to be 
 still living, although more than two thousand years old. 
 Presently we came to a spot under one of the citadel 
 towers where a feeble ooze of water appeared. 
 
 " Behold," said my friend, " the third of the Triveni 
 rivers ! This is the river Saravasti. You must know 
 that once upon a time, Saravasti, goddess of learning, 
 was tripping along fresh from the hills to the west of 
 Yamuna (the Jumna), bearing in her hand a book. 
 
Sketches of India 213 
 
 Presently she entered the sandy country, when on a 
 sudden a great press of frightful demons uprose, and so 
 terrified her that in the absence of other refuge she 
 sank into the earth. Here she reappears. So the 
 Hindus fable." 
 
 On our return to our quarters we passed a verandah 
 where an old pedagogue was teaching a lot of young 
 Mussulmans the accidence of Oordoo, a process which 
 he accomplished much as the " singing geography " man 
 used to impart instruction in the olden days when I was a 
 boy, to wit, by causing the pupils to sing in unison the 
 A, B, C. Occasionally, too, the little, queer-looking 
 chaps squatted tailorwise on the floor would take a 
 turn at writing the Arabic character on their slates. A 
 friendly hookah in the midst of the group betrayed 
 the manner in which the wise man solaced the labors 
 of education. 
 
 On the next day, as our indigo-planter came to drive 
 us to the gardens of Chusru, he said, "An English 
 friend of mine who is living in the Moffussil the 
 Moffussil is anywhere not in Calcutta, Bombay, or 
 Madras not far from Patna has just written me that 
 word has been brought from one of the Sontal villages 
 concerning the depredations of a tiger from which the 
 inhabitants have recently suffered, and that a grand 
 hunt, elephant-back, has been organized through the 
 combined contributions of the English and native 
 elephant-owners. He presses me to come, and as an 
 affair of this sort is by no means common for it is no 
 easy matter to get together and support a dozen 
 elephants and the army of retainers considered neces 
 sary in a great hunt I thought perhaps you would be 
 glad to accompany me." 
 
214 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 Of course I was ; and Bhima Gandharva, though he 
 would not take any active part in the hunt, insisted 
 upon going along in order to see that no harm came 
 to me. 
 
 On the next day, therefore, we all took train and 
 fared southeastward toward Calcutta as far as to 
 Bhagalpur, where we left the railway, sending our 
 baggage on to Calcutta, and took private conveyance 
 to a certain spot among the Rajmahal Mountains, 
 where the camp had been fixed by retainers on the day 
 before. It was near a village of the Sontals that we 
 passed before reaching it, a singular- enough spectacle 
 this last, with its round-roofed huts and a platform 
 at its entrance upon which and under which were 
 ghastly heaps of the skulls of animals slain by the 
 villagers. These Sontals reminded me of the G6nds 
 whom I had seen, though they seemed to be far manlier 
 representatives of the autochthonal races of India than 
 the former. They are said to number about a million, 
 and inhabit a belt of country some four hundred miles 
 long by one hundred broad, including the Rajmahal 
 Mountains, and extending from near the Bay of Bengal 
 to the edge of Behar. So little have they been known 
 that when in the year 1855 word was brought to Cal 
 cutta that the Sontals had risen and were murdering 
 the Europeans, many of the English are said to have 
 asked not only Who are the Sontals? but What are 
 the Sontals? 
 
 The more inaccessible tops of the same mountains, 
 the Rajmahal, are occupied by a much ruder set of 
 people, the Malers, who appear to have been pushed up 
 here by the Sontals, as the Sontals were themselves 
 pressed by the incoming Aryans. 
 
Sketches of India 215 
 
 As we arrived at the camp I realized the words of 
 our English friend concerning the magnitude of the 
 preparations for a tiger-hunt undertaken on the present 
 scale. The tents of the sportsmen, among whom were 
 several English army officers and civil officials, besides 
 a native rajah, were pitched in a beautiful glade canopied 
 by large trees, and near these were the cooking-tents 
 and the lodging-places of the servants, of whom there 
 was the liberal allowance which is customary in India. 
 Through the great tree-trunks I could see elephants, 
 camels, and horses tethered about the outskirts of the 
 camp, while the carts, elephant-pads and other impedi 
 menta lying about gave the whole the appearance of an 
 army at bivouac. Indeed, it was not an inconsiderable 
 force that we could have mustered. There were fifteen 
 or twenty elephants in the party. Every elephant had 
 two men, the mahaut and his assistant; every two 
 camels, one man ; every cart, two men ; besides whom 
 were the kholassies (tent-pitchers) , the chikarries (native 
 huntsmen to mark down and flush the tiger), letter- 
 carriers for the official personages, and finally the per 
 sonal servants of the party, amounting in all to something 
 like a hundred and fifty souls. The commissary ar 
 rangements of such a body of men and beasts were no 
 light matter, and had on this occasion been placed by 
 contract in the hands of a flour-and-grain merchant 
 from Patna. As night drew on the scene became strik 
 ing in the extreme, and I do not think I felt the fact 
 of India more keenly at any time than while Bhima 
 Gandharva and I, slipping away from a party who were 
 making merry over vast allowances of pale ale and 
 cheroots, went wandering about under the stars and 
 green leaves, picking our way among the huge forms of 
 
2i 6 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 the mild-countenanced elephants and the bizarre figures 
 of the camels. 
 
 On the next day, after a leisurely breakfast at eight 
 the hunt was to begin at midday my kind host as 
 signed me an elephant, and his servants proceeded to 
 equip me for the hunt, placing in my howdah brandy, 
 cold tea, cheroots, a rifle, a smooth-bore, ammunition, 
 an umbrella, and finally a blanket. 
 
 " And what is the blanket for? " I asked. 
 
 " For the wild-bees ; and if your elephant happens to 
 stir up a nest of them, the very best thing in the world 
 you can do is to throw it incontinently over your head," 
 added my host, laughing. 
 
 The tiger had been marked down in a spot some 
 three miles from camp, and when our battle-array, 
 which had at first taken up the line of march in a very 
 cozy and gentleman-militia sort of independence, had 
 arrived within a mile of our destination, the leader who 
 had been selected to direct our movements caused us 
 all to assume more systematic dispositions, issued orders 
 forbidding a shot to be fired at any sort of game, no 
 matter how tempting, less than the royal object of our 
 chase, and then led the way down the glade, which now 
 began to spread out into lower and wetter ground cov 
 ered by tall grasses and thickets. The hunt now began 
 in earnest. Hot, flushed, scratched as to the face by 
 the tall reeds, rolling on my ungainly animal s back as 
 if I were hunting in an open boat on a chopping sea, 
 I had the additional nervous distraction of seeing many 
 sorts of game deer, wild-hogs, pea-fowl, partridges 
 careering about in the most exasperating manner imme 
 diately under my gun -muzzle. To add to my dissatis 
 faction, presently I saw a wild-hog dash out of a thicket 
 
Sketches of India 217 
 
 with her young litter immediately across our path, and 
 as my elephant stepped excitedly along one of his big 
 fore feet crunched directly down on a beautiful little 
 pig, bringing a quickly- smothered squeak which made 
 me quite cower before the eye of Bhima Gandharva as 
 he stood looking calmly forward beside me. So we 
 tramped on through the thickets and grasses. An hour 
 passed ; the deployed huntsmen had again drawn in 
 together, somewhat bored; we were all red-faced and 
 twig-tattooed ; no tiger was to be found ; we gathered 
 into a sort of circle and were looking at each other with 
 that half-foolish, half-mad disconsolateness which men s 
 faces show when they are unsuccessfully engaged in a 
 matter which does not amount to much even after it is 
 successfully achieved, when suddenly my elephant 
 flourished his trunk, uttered a shrill trumpeting sound, 
 and dashed violently to one side, just as I saw a grand 
 tiger, whose coat seemed to be all alive with throbbing 
 spots, flying through the air past me to the haunches 
 of the less wary elephant beside which mine had been 
 walking. Instantly the whole party was in commotion. 
 " Bagh ! bagh /" yelled the mahauts and attendants; 
 the elephants trumpeted and charged hither and thither. 
 The tiger seemed to become fairly insane under the 
 fusillade which greeted him; he leapt so desperately 
 from one side to the other as to appear for a few 
 moments almost ubiquitous, while at every discharge 
 the frantic natives screamed " Lugga f lugga !" without 
 in the least knowing whether he was hit (lugga) or not, 
 till presently, when I supposed he must have received 
 at least forty shots in his body, he fell back from a 
 desperate attempt to scale the back of the rajah s 
 elephant, and lay quite still. 
 
2i 8 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 " I thought that last shot of mine would finish him," 
 said one of the English civil officials as we all crowded 
 around the magnificent beast. 
 
 " Whether it did or not, I distinctly saw him cringe 
 at my shot," hotly said another. "There s always a 
 peculiar look a tiger has when he gets his death-wound : 
 it s unmistakable when you once know it." 
 
 "And I 11 engage to eat him," interjected a third, "if 
 I didn t blow off the whole side of his face with my 
 smooth-bore when he stuck his muzzle up into my how- 
 dah." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said our leader, a cool and model 
 old hunter, "the shortest way to settle who is the 
 owner of this tiger-skin is to examine the perforations 
 in it." 
 
 Which we all accordingly fell to doing. 
 
 " B , I m afraid you ve a heavy meal ahead of 
 
 you : his muzzle is as guiltless of harm as a baby s," said 
 one of the claimants. 
 
 " Well," retorted B , " but I don t see any sign of 
 
 that big bore of yours, either." 
 
 " By Jove ! " said the leader, in some astonishment as 
 our search proceeded unsuccessfully, " has anybody hit 
 him? Maybe he died of fright." 
 
 At this moment Bhima Gandharva calmly advanced, 
 lifted up the great fore leg of the tiger and showed us a 
 small blue hole just underneath it ; at the same time he 
 felt along the tiger s skin on the opposite side to the 
 hole, rolled the bullet about under the cuticle where it 
 had lodged after passing through the animal, and deftly 
 making an incision with his knife drew it forth betwixt 
 his thumb and finger. He handed it to the gentleman 
 whose guests we were, and to whom the rifle belonged 
 
Sketches of India 219 
 
 which had been placed in our howdah, and then 
 modestly withdrew from the circle. 
 
 "There isn t another rifle in camp that carries so 
 small a bullet," said our host, holding up the ball, " and 
 there can t be the least doubt that the Hindu is the man 
 who killed him." 
 
 Not another bullet-hole was to be found. 
 
 " When did you do it ? " I asked of Bhima. " I knew 
 not that you had fired at all." 
 
 "When he made his first leap from the thicket," he 
 said quietly. " I feared he was going to land directly 
 on you. The shot turned him." 
 
 At this the three discomfited claimants of the tiger- 
 skin (which belongs to him who kills) with the heartiest 
 English good-nature burst into roars of laughter, each at 
 himself as well as the others, and warmly shook Bhima s 
 hand amid a general outbreak of applause from the 
 whole company. 
 
 Then amid a thousand jokes the tiffin-baskets were 
 brought out, and we had a royal lunch while the tiger 
 was " padded " i. e., placed on one of the unoccupied 
 elephants ; and finally we got us back to camp, where 
 the rest of the day was devoted to dinner and cheroots. 
 
 From the tiger to the town, from the cries of jackals 
 to those of street-vendors this is an easy transition in 
 India ; and it was only the late afternoon of the second 
 day after the tiger-hunt when my companion and I were 
 strolling along the magnificent Esplanade of Calcutta, 
 having cut across the mountains, elephant-back, early in 
 the morning to a station where we caught the down- 
 train. 
 
 Solidity, wealth, trade, ponderous ledgers, capacious 
 ships bottoms, merchandise transformed to magnificence, 
 
22O Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 an ample-stomached bourgeoisie, this is what comes 
 to one s mind as one faces the broad walk in front of 
 Fort William and looks across the open space to the 
 palaces, the domes, the columns of modem and English 
 Calcutta ; or again as one wanders along the strand in 
 the evening when the aristocrats of commerce do con 
 gregate, and, as it were, gazette the lengths of their 
 bank-balances in the glitter of their equipages and ap 
 pointments ; or again as one strolls about the great 
 public gardens or the amplitudes of Tank Square, whose 
 great tank of water suggests the luxury of the dwellers 
 hereabout ; or the numerous other paths of comfort 
 which are kept so by constant lustrations from the skins 
 of the water-bearers. The whole situation seems that of 
 ease and indulgence. The very circular verandahs of 
 the rich men s dwellings expand like the ample vests 
 of trustees and directors after dinner. The city extends 
 some four and a half miles along the left bank of the 
 Hooghly, and its breadth between the " Circular Road " 
 and the river is about a mile and a half. If one cuts off 
 from this space that part which lies south of a line drawn 
 eastward from the Beebee Ross Ghat to the Upper Cir 
 cular Road the northern portion thus segregated being 
 the native town one has a veritable city of palaces ; 
 and when to these one adds the magnificent suburbs 
 lying beyond the old circumvallation of the " Mahratta 
 Ditch " Chitpore, Nundenbagh, Bobar, Simla, Sealdah, 
 Entally, Ballygunge, Bhovaneepore, Allypore, Kidder- 
 pore together with the riverward-sloping lawns and 
 stately mansions of " Garden Reach " on the sea-side of 
 town, and the great dockyards and warehouses of the 
 right bank of the river opposite the city, one has en 
 closed a space which may probably vie with any similar 
 
 
I 
 
 Sketches of India 221 
 
 one in the world for the appearances and the realities of 
 wealth within it. 
 
 But if one should allow this first impression of Calcutta 
 an impression in which good eating and the general 
 pampering of the flesh seem to be the most prominent 
 features to lead one into the belief that here is noth 
 ing but moneymaking and grossness, one would commit 
 a serious mistake. It is among the rich babous, or 
 commercial natives, of Calcutta that the remarkable 
 reformatory movement known as " Young India " has 
 had its origin, and it would really seem that the very 
 same qualities of patience, of prudence, of foresight, and 
 of good sense which have helped these babous to ac 
 cumulate their wealth are now about being applied to the 
 nobler and far more difficult work of lifting their country 
 men out of the degradations of old outworn customs and 
 faiths upon some higher plane of reasonable behavior. 
 
 " In truth," said Bhima Gandharva to me one day as 
 we were taking our customary stroll along the Esplanade, 
 "you have now been from the west of this country to 
 the east of it. You have seen the Past of India ; I wish 
 that you may have at least a glimpse of its Future. 
 Here comes a young babou of my acquaintance to 
 whom I will make you known. He is an enthusiastic 
 member of Young India ; he has received a liberal 
 education at one of the numerous schools which his 
 order has so liberally founded in modern years, and you 
 will, I am convinced, be pleased with the wisdom and 
 moderation of his sentiments." 
 
 Just as I was reaching out my hand to take that of 
 the babou, in compliance with Bhima s introduction, an 
 enormous adjutant one of the great pouched cranes 
 (arghilahs) that stalk about Calcutta under protection 
 
222 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 of the law, and do much of the scavenger- work of the 
 city walked directly between us, eyeing each of us 
 with his red round eyes in a manner so ludicrous that 
 we all broke forth in a fit of laughter that lasted for sev 
 eral minutes, while the ungainly bird stalked away with 
 much the stolid air of one who has seen something 
 whereof he thinks but little. 
 
 The babou addressed me in excellent English, and 
 after some preliminary inquiries as to my stay in Cal 
 cutta, accompanied by hospitable invitations, he grad 
 ually began, in response to my evident desire, to talk of 
 the hopes and fears of the new party. 
 
 " It is our great misfortune," said he, " that we have 
 here to do with that portion of my countrymen which is 
 perhaps most deeply sunk in the mire of ancient custom. 
 We have begun by unhesitatingly leading in the front 
 ourselves whenever any disagreeable consequences are 
 to be borne by reason of our infringement of the old 
 customs. Take, for example, the problem of the pecu 
 liar position of women among the Hindus. Perhaps " 
 and here the babou s voice grew very grave and 
 earnest " the human imagination is incapable of con 
 ceiving a lot more wretched than that of the Hindu 
 widow. By immemorial tradition she could escape it 
 only through the flames of the satti, the funeral-pile 
 upon which she could burn herself with the dead body 
 of her husband. But the satti is now prohibited by the 
 English law, and the poor woman who loses her husband 
 is, according to custom, stripped of her clothing, arrayed 
 in coarse garments, and doomed thenceforth to perform 
 the most menial offices of the family for the remainder 
 of her life, as one accursed beyond redemption. To 
 marry again is impossible : the man who marries a 
 
Sketches of India 223 
 
 widow suffers punishments which no one who has not 
 lived under the traditions of caste can possibly com 
 prehend. The wretched widow has not even the con 
 solations which come from books: the decent Hindu 
 woman does not know how to read or write. There 
 was still one avenue of escape from this life. She might 
 have become a nautchni. What wonder that there are 
 so many of these? How, then, to deal with this fatal 
 superstition, or rather conglomerate of superstitions, 
 which seems to suffer no more from attack than a 
 shadow? We have begun the revolution by marrying 
 widows just as girls are married, and by showing that 
 -the loss of caste which indeed we have quite abolished 
 among ourselves entails necessarily none of those 
 miserable consequences which the priests have de 
 nounced ; and we strike still more deeply at the root of 
 the trouble by instituting schools where our own daugh 
 ters, and all others whom we can prevail upon to send, 
 are educated with the utmost care. In our religion we 
 retain Brahma by whom we mean the one supreme 
 God of all and abolish all notions of the saving efficacy 
 of merely ceremonial observances, holding that God has 
 given to man the choice of right and wrong, and the 
 dignity of exercising his powers in such accordance with 
 his convictions as shall secure his eternal happiness. To 
 these cardinal principles we subjoin the most unlimited 
 toleration for other religions, recognizing in its fullest 
 extent the law of the adaptation of the forms of belief to 
 the varying moulds of character resulting from race, 
 climate, and all those great conditions of existence which 
 differentiate men one from another." 
 
 " How," I asked, " do the efforts of the Christian 
 missionaries comport with your own sect s? " 
 
224 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 " Substantially, we work together. With the sincerest 
 good wishes for their success for every sensible man 
 must hail any influence which instils a single new idea 
 into the wretched Bengalee of low condition I am yet 
 free to acknowledge that I do not expect the mission 
 aries to make many converts satisfactory to themselves, 
 for I am inclined to think them not fully aware of the 
 fact that in importing Christianity among the Hindus 
 they have not only brought the doctrine, but they have 
 brought the Western form of it, and I fear that they do 
 not recognize how much of the nature of substance this 
 matter of form becomes when one is attempting to put 
 new wine into old bottles. Nevertheless, God speed 
 them ! I say. We are all full of hope. Signs of the day 
 meet us everywhere. It is true that still, if you put 
 yourself on the route to Orissa, you will meet thousands 
 of pilgrims who are going to the temple at Jaghernath 
 (what your Sunday-school books call Juggernaut) for 
 the purpose of worshipping the hideous idols which it 
 contains; and although the English policemen accom 
 pany the procession of the Rattjattra when the idol is 
 drawn on the monstrous car by the frenzied crowd of 
 fanatics and enforce the law which now forbids the 
 poor insane devotees from casting themselves beneath 
 the fatal wheels, still it cannot be denied that the de 
 votees are there, nor that Jaghernath is still the Mecca 
 of millions of debased worshippers. It is also true that 
 the pretended exhibitions of the tooth of Buddha can 
 still inspire an ignorant multitude of people to place 
 themselves in adoring procession and to debase them 
 selves with the absurd rites of frenzy and unreason. 
 Nor do I forget the fact that my countrymen are broken 
 up into hundreds of sects, and their language frittered 
 
Sketches of India 225 
 
 into hundreds of dialects. Yet, as I said, we are full of 
 hope, and there can be no man so bold as to limit the 
 capabilities of that blood which flows in English veins as 
 well as in Hindu. Somehow or other, India is now not 
 so gloomy a topic to read of or to talk of as it used to be. 
 The recent investigations of Indian religion and phi 
 losophy have set many European minds upon trains of 
 thought which are full of novelty and of promise. India 
 is not the only land you who are from America know 
 it full well where the current orthodoxy has become 
 wholly unsatisfactory to many of the soberest and most 
 practically earnest men ; and I please myself with be 
 lieving that it is now not wholly extravagant to speak of 
 a time when these two hundred millions of industrious, 
 patient, mild-hearted, yet mistaken Hindus may be 
 found leaping joyfully forward out of their old shackles 
 toward the larger purposes which reveal themselves in 
 the light of progress." 
 
 At the close of our conversation, which was long and 
 to me intensely interesting, the babou informed us that 
 he had recently become interested with a company of 
 Englishmen in reclaiming one of the numerous and 
 hitherto wholly unused islands in the Sunderbunds for the 
 purpose of devoting it to the culture of rice and sugar-cane, 
 and that if we cared to penetrate some of the wildest and 
 most picturesque portions of that strange region he would 
 be glad to place at our disposal one of the boats of the 
 company, which we would find lying at Port Canning. I 
 eagerly accepted the proposition j and on the next day, 
 taking the short railway which connects Calcutta and 
 Port Canning, we quickly arrived at the latter point, and 
 proceeded to bestow ourselves comfortably in the boat 
 for a lazy voyage along the winding streams and canals 
 15 
 
226 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 which intersect the great marshes. It was not long after 
 leaving Port Canning ere we were in the midst of the 
 aquatic plants, the adjutants, the herons, the thousand 
 sorts of water-birds, the crocodiles, which here abound. 
 
 The Sunderbunds as the natives term that alluvial 
 region which terminates the delta of the Ganges can 
 scarcely be considered either land or sea, but rather a 
 multitudinous reticulation of streams, the meshes of 
 which are represented by islands in all the various stages 
 of consistency between water and dry land. Sometimes 
 we floated along the lovely curves of canals which flowed 
 underneath ravishing arches formed by the meeting 
 overhead of great trees which leaned to each other from 
 either bank ; while again our course led us between shores 
 which were mere plaits and interweavings of the long 
 stems and broad leaves of gigantic water-plants. The 
 islands were but little inhabited, and the few denizens we 
 saw were engaged either in fishing or in the manufacture 
 of salt from the brackish water. Once we landed at a 
 collection of huts where were quartered the laborers of 
 another company which had been successfully engaged 
 in prosecuting the same experiment of rice-culture which 
 our friend had just undertaken. It was just at the time 
 when the laborers were coming in from the fields. The 
 wife of the one to whose hut my curiosity led me had 
 prepared his evening meal of rice and curry, and he was 
 just sitting down to it as I approached. With incredible 
 deftness he mingled the curry and the rice together 
 he had no knife, fork, or spoon by using the end-joints 
 of his thumb and fingers ; then, when he had sufficiently 
 amalgamated the mass, he rolled up a little ball of it, 
 placed the ball upon his crooked thumb as a boy does a 
 marble, and shot it into his mouth without losing a grain. 
 
Sketches of India 127 
 
 Thus he despatched his meal, and I could not but marvel 
 at the neatness and dexterity which he displayed, with 
 scarcely more need of a finger-bowl at the end than the 
 most delicate feeder you shall see at Delmonico s. 
 
 The crops raised upon the rich alluvium of these 
 islands were enormous, and if the other difficulties attend 
 ing cultivation in such a region could be surmounted, 
 there seemed to be no doubt of our friend the babou s 
 success in his venture. But it was a wild and lonesome 
 region, and as we floated along, after leaving the island, 
 up a canal which flamed in the sunset like a great illum 
 inated baldric slanting across the enormous shoulder of 
 the world, a little air came breathing over me as if it had 
 just blown from the mysterious regions where space and 
 time are not, or are in different forms from those we 
 know. A sense of the crudity of these great expanses of 
 sea-becoming-land took possession of me ; the horizon 
 stretched away like a mere endless continuation of 
 marshes and streams; the face of my companion was 
 turned off seaward with an expression of ineffably mellow 
 tranquillity ; a glamour came about as if the world were 
 again formless and void, and as if the marshes were 
 chaos. I shivered with a certain eager expectation of 
 beholding the shadowy outline of a great and beautiful 
 spirit moving over the face of the waters to create a new 
 world. I drew my gaze with difficulty from the heavens 
 and turned toward my companion. 
 
 He was gone. The sailors also had disappeared. 
 
 And there, as I sat in that open boat, midst of the Sun- 
 derbunds, at my domestic antipodes, happened to me the 
 most wondrous transformation which the tricksy stage-car 
 penters and scene-shifters of the brain have ever devised. 
 For this same far-stretching horizon, which had just been 
 
 
228 Retrospects and Prospects 
 
 my soul into the depths of the creative period, 
 suddenly contracted itself four-square into the somewhat 
 yellowed waOs of a certain apartment which I need not 
 now farther designate, and the son and his flaming clouds 
 
 no more nor less than a certain half dozen of 
 pictures upon these same yellowish waDs ; 
 and the boat wherefrom I was about to view the birth of 
 continents degraded itself unto a certain or, I had 
 
 wherein I sit writing these fines ad mourning for my 
 
 ii-6. 
 

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