Part 5
"They love their land because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why; Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his majesty; A stubborn race, fearing and nattering none. Such are they nurtured, such they live and die, All but a few apostates, who are meddling With merchandise, pounds, shillings, pence, and peddling!"
In the Western States, where Nature educates men on a liberal scale by giving them broad rivers, broad lakes, and broad prairies, we find a people characterized by broad and liberal views of things, large-heartedness, frank manners, generous sympathies; a philanthropy which regards all mankind as a brotherhood, and a public sentiment which rebukes intolerance. In truth, Western men despise "little things" and devise "liberal things," and would sooner sacrifice their lives than yield obedience to the mandates of either political or ecclesiastical oppression.
In the Southern States Nature has not as yet effected much in the exercise of her educational influences. In whatever she has attempted in this direction she seems to have been overruled by circumstances,--by the difference in races, and by the prejudices of caste. Though the South has produced intellectual men of a high order, she has contributed comparatively but little either to science or to standard literature. Yet it must be conceded that the South has always been justly distinguished for her hospitality, cordiality, and chivalric spirit.
Whatever human institutions may achieve, it is certain that Nature in the manifest wisdom of her works contributes largely to the education of all classes of men in all countries. In her great school, even the uncivilized man not unfrequently becomes a profound philosopher. The coinage of her mint has the true ring in it and passes current everywhere. Her light is the light of the world, yet the masses are too blind, or rather too ignorant, to see it. Without intending the least disrespect to the one thousand different theologies which distract mankind, it may be asserted that the Book of Nature is in itself a divine revelation, which has been divided by her own hand into chapter and verse, and may be read in the alphabet of the flowers, in the rocks of the hills, and in the stars. In its language it is not only beautiful, but every word is suggestive; in its doctrines it is pure and truthful; in its wide range of thought it treats principally of life, and of the conditions of life, and assures us that the silent process of creation--of eternal change--still goes on, now as ever; and that every particle of matter in the universe is constantly active, achieving something.
In a philosophical sense, there is nothing dead that does not live. Matter combines, dissolves, and re-combines. New forms of life and new conditions of life appear and disappear. The very dust under our feet has lived and breathed, and will live again. Nature waits to be gracious, and is ever ready to reveal her mysteries as fast as man can comprehend them. And though she speaks with a silent lip, she invites all to share her bounties. Her wealth is infinite.
In every star, in every flower, in every blade of grass, in every grain of sand, in everything visible and invisible, there is life, light, and beauty. In everything there is power. We cannot look at a grain of sand, insignificant as it may seem, without seeing in its composition the material which enables us to read the golden record of the heavens. In the falling raindrop, when converted into steam, we recognize the existence of a power which has revolutionized the world. In the kiss of the sunbeam we discover a magical influence which tints the flower, gives color to everything in Nature, and by its impress presents us with an exact and lifelike transcript of ourselves and of our friends. In the lightning's flash we have a language in which we can converse with our friends throughout the civilized world, at any moment we please.
When we consider what has been achieved in the way of scientific discovery during the last half-century, who can tell what may not be achieved in the next century, in the next ten centuries,--when the great mysteries of Nature shall be more fully revealed, and when new sciences, now unknown, shall disclose new principles, new forces, and still subtler agencies?
In her desire to advance human knowledge, Nature invokes interpreters--unborn interpreters--who, though far away in the distance, will yet come, and when they do come, will interpret in accordance with truth the mystical language in which her undiscovered secrets are written, and thus extend the empire of thought until it becomes infinite,--an empire in which man, still rising in the scale of intelligence, will acquire divine powers, and assume the dignity of a perfect manhood.
WOMAN AND HER SPHERE.
Woman, like a flower, sprang to life in a garden of flowers,--sprang from the side of her lord, and took her place at his side, as a meet companion to share his earth-life, his joys, and his sorrows.
The Greeks believed that the gods collected everything that is beautiful in Nature, out of which they formed the first woman, and having crowned her brow with sunshine, intrusted her with the irresistible power of fascination.
It is certainly not less pleasant than natural to believe that woman was made of a more refined material than man; and it is doubtless true that every sincere worshipper of the beautiful delights to regard the "angel of his dreams" not only as an incarnation of all that is lovable, but as a divine spirituality,--a vision from a brighter and holier sphere.
An old writer remarks that in order to make an entirely beautiful woman, it would be necessary to take the head from Greece, the bust from Austria, the feet from Hindostan, the shoulders from Italy, the walk from Spain, and the complexion from England. At that rate she would be a mosaic in her composition; and the man who married her might well be said to have "taken up a collection."
However mystical may be the origin of woman, it is certain that we should look to the moral beauty of her life, rather than to her personal charms, in estimating the true value of her character. In her nature woman is a loyalist,--loyal to man and loyal to God. In all ages of the world, in all countries and under all circumstances, she has ever been distinguished for her patience, her fortitude, and her forbearance, as well as for those still higher and diviner attributes, her love and her devotion.
Endowed with charms which give her the power of conquest, woman ever delights in making conquests; and though she may sometimes "stoop to conquer," she never fails to elevate the conquered. With the smile of love resting on her brow, she aims to fulfil her mission by scattering flowers along the pathway of life, and inspiring the sterner sex with reverence for her virtues and for the angelhood of her nature.
The true woman exhibits a true womanhood in all she does, in all she says,--in her heart-life and in her world-life. Her love, once bestowed on him who is worthy of it, increases with her years and becomes as enduring as her life,--
"In death, a deathless flame."
Not only in the sincerity of her love, but in all her sympathies, in her quick sense of duty, and in her devotion to all that is good, right, and just, she discloses without being conscious of it the divinity of her character.
It is in sacred history that we find the earliest record of woman's virtues, acquirements, and achievements. It is there that we read of women who were not only distinguished for their exalted piety and exemplary habits of life, but who often excelled even the great men of renown in sagacity of purpose and in the exercise of sceptred power. It is in sacred history that we have the earliest account of the social and domestic relations of the human family, the most prominent of which is the institution of marriage.
The first marriage of which we have any account took place in a garden, without the usual preliminaries and ceremonies which have marked its solemnization in subsequent periods of the world's history; yet we must believe that it was the most august and sublime wedding that ever occurred. The witnesses of the ceremony were none other than the angels of God. Nature presented her choicest flowers, and the birds of Paradise sang the bridal hymn, while earth and sky rejoiced in the consummation of the "first match made in heaven."
It may be presumed, perhaps, that all matches are made in heaven; yet somehow or other, sad mistakes occur when least expected. Even our first parents, though placed in a garden of innocence, encountered a serpent in their pathway. It need not seem very strange, therefore, that "the course of true love never did run smooth." Yet there are but few who would not concur with Tennyson in thinking--
"'Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all."
In affairs of the heart there is no such thing as accounting for the freaks of fancy, or the choice of dissimilar tastes. Singular as it may be, most people admire contrasts. In other words, like prefers unlike; the tall prefer the short; the beautiful the unbeautiful; and the perverse the reverse. In this way Nature makes up her counterparts with a view to assimilate her materials and bring harmony out of discord. It is from accords and discords that we judge of music and determine its degree of excellence. In wedded life even discords have their uses, since a family jar now and then is often attended with the happiest results, by bringing into timely exercise a higher degree of mutual forbearance, and inspiring the heart with a purer, sincerer, and diviner appreciation of the "silken tie."
There is no topic, perhaps, of deeper interest to a woman than that of wedlock. It is an event, when it does occur, which brightens or blasts forever her fondest hopes and her purest affections. The matrimonial question is therefore the great question of a woman's life. In deciding it, she takes a risk which determines the future of her heart-life. When the motive is stamped with the imperial seal of Heaven, it is certain the heart will recognize it as genuine, and trust in it. The language of love speaks for itself, sometimes in mysteries, sometimes in revelations. It is a telegraphic language which every woman understands, though written in hieroglyphics. Hence the preliminaries to wedlock, usually called courtships, are as various in their methods as the whims of the parties. In many parts of the world these methods are as amusing as they are singular.
In royal families matrimonial alliances are controlled by State policy, and the negotiations conducted through the agencies of ministerial confidants. In some Oriental countries, parents contract their sons and daughters in marriage while yet in their infancy, nor allow the parties an interview until of marriageable age, when the wedding ceremonies are performed, and the happy pair unveiled to behold each other for the first time. At such a moment "a penny for their thoughts" would be cheap enough. The philosophy of this absurd custom seems to be based on the classical idea that "love is blind." This may be true; yet blind though it be, the heart will always have its preference, and contrive some way or other to express it.
In some of the Molucca Islands, when a young man is too bashful to speak his love, he seizes the first opportunity that offers of sitting near the object of his affection, and tying his garments to hers. If she allows him to finish the knot, and neither cuts nor loosens it, she truly gives her consent to the marriage. If she merely loosens it, he is at liberty to try his luck again at a more propitious moment; but if she cuts the knot, there is an end of hope.
In Lapland it is death to marry a girl without the consent of her friends. When a young man proposes marriage, the friends of both parties meet to witness a race between them. The girl is allowed, at starting, the advantage of a third part of the race; if her lover does not overtake her, it is a penal offence for him ever to renew his offers of marriage. If the damsel favors his suit, she may run fast at first, to try his affection; but she will be sure to linger before she comes to the end of the race. In this way all marriages are made in accordance with inclination; and this is the probable reason of so much domestic contentment in that country.
In ancient times marriageable women were the subjects of bargain and sale, and were more generally obtained by purchase than courtship. The prices paid in some instances seem incredible, if not extortionate. Of course, "pearls of great price" were not to be had for the mere asking. Jacob purchased his wife, Rachel, at a cost of fourteen years hard labor.
The Babylonians, who were a practical people, gathered their marriageable daughters once a year from every district of their country, and sold them at auction to bachelors, who purchased them for wives, while the magistrates presided at the sales. The sums of money thus received for the beautiful girls were appropriated as dowries for the benefit of the less beautiful. Of course rich bachelors paid liberal prices for their choice, while poor bachelors, in accepting the less beautiful, generally obtained the best wives, with the addition of a handsome sum of money. In this way all parties were accommodated who aspired to matrimonial felicity.
But in these modern times most of our young men, instead of purchasing their wives, prefer to sell themselves at the highest price the market affords. Fortune-hunting is therefore regarded as legitimate. In the mind of a fast young man wealth has a magical influence, which is sure to invest the possessor, if a marriageable young lady, however unattractive, with irresistible charms. If his preliminary inquiry--Is she rich?--be answered in the affirmative, the siege commences at once. Art is so practised as to conceal art, and create, if possible, a favorable impression. An introduction is sought and obtained. Interview follows interview in quick succession. The declaration is made; the diamond ring presented and graciously accepted; consent obtained, and the happy day set. Rumor reports an eligible match in high life, and the fashionable world is on tiptoe with expectation.
But instead of its being an "affair of the heart," it is really a very different affair,--nothing but a hasty transaction in fancy stocks. And if the officiating clergyman were to employ an appropriate formula of words in celebrating the nuptials, he would address the parties thus:--
"Romeo, wilt thou have this delicate constitution, this bundle of silks and satins, this crock of gold, for thy wedded wife?"--"I will." "Juliet, wilt thou have this false pretence, this profligate in broadcloth, this unpaid tailor's bill, for thy wedded husband?"--"I will."
The happy pair are then pronounced man and wife. And what is the result? A brief career of dissipation, a splendid misery, a reduction to poverty, domestic dissension, separation, and finally a divorce. But how different is the result when an honest man, actuated by pure motives, marries a sincere woman, whose only wealth consists in her love and in her practical good sense!
It is man who degrades woman, not woman who degrades man. Asiatic monarchs have ever regarded woman, not as a companion, but as a toy, a picture, a luxury of the palace; while men of common rank throughout Asia and in many parts of Europe treat her as a slave, a drudge, a "hewer of wood and a drawer of water," and make it her duty to wait, instead of being waited on; to attend, instead of being attended. Out of this sordid idea of woman's destiny has grown in all probability the custom of regarding her as property. Influenced by this idea, there are still some persons to be found among the lower classes, even in our own country, who do not hesitate to sell, buy, or exchange their wives for a material consideration. Some of our American forefathers, in the early settlement of Jamestown, purchased their wives from England, and paid in tobacco, at the rate of one hundred and fifty pounds each, and thought it a fair transaction. Perhaps this is the reason why ladies are so generally disgusted with the use of the "Virginia weed."
But the doctrine that woman was created the inferior of man, though venerable for its antiquity, is not less fallacious than venerable. It is simply an assertion which does not appear to be sustained by historical facts. It is true that woman is called in Scripture the "weaker vessel;" weaker in physical strength she may be, but it does not follow that she is weaker in mind, wit, judgment, shrewdness, tact, or moral power.
The sterner sex need not flatter themselves, therefore, that superiority of muscle necessarily implies superiority of mind. History sufficiently discloses the fact that woman has often proved herself not only a match, but an over-match, for man, in wielding the sceptre, the sword, and the pen, to say nothing of the tongue. Illustrations of this great fact, like coruscations of light, sparkle along the darkened track of the ages, and abound in the living present.
But in looking into the broad expanse of the historical past, we cannot attempt to do more than glance here and there at a particular star, whose undiminished lustre has given it a name and a fame, not only glorious, but immortal. As in all ages there have been representative men, so in all ages there have been representative women, who crowned the age in which they lived with honor, and gave tone to its sentiment and character.
In the career of Semiramis, who lived about two thousand years before the Christian era, we have a crystallization of those subtle attributes of female character, which are not less remarkable for their diversity than extensive in their power and influence. It will be remembered that she was the reputed child of a goddess, a foundling exposed in a desert, fed for a year by doves, discovered by a shepherd, and adopted by him as his own daughter. When grown to womanhood, she married the governor of Nineveh, and assisted him in the siege and conquest of Bactria. The wisdom and tact which she manifested in this enterprise, and especially her personal beauty, attracted the attention of the King of Assyria, who mysteriously relieved her of her husband, obtained her hand in wedlock, resigned to her his crown, and declared her queen and sole empress of Assyria. The aspirations of Semiramis became at once unbounded; and fearing her royal consort might repent the hasty step he had taken, she abruptly extinguished his life, and soon succeeded in distinguishing her own. She levelled mountains, filled up valleys, built aqueducts, commanded armies, conquered neighboring nations, penetrated into Arabia and Ethiopia, amassed vast treasures, founded many cities, and wherever she appeared, spread terror and consternation. Under her auspices and by means of her wealth, Babylon, the capital of her empire, became the most renowned and magnificent city in the world. Her might was invincible; her right she regarded as co-extensive with her power. Her prompt action was the secret of her success.
When she was informed, on one occasion, that Babylon had revolted, she left her toilet half made, put herself at the head of an armed force, and instantly quelled the revolt. She was a woman of strong passions and of strong mind, and, what is now very uncommon, of strong nerves. And yet her peerless beauty and the fascination of her manners appear to have been as irresistible as the sway of her sceptre. The fatality of her personal charms, her inordinate love of power, and the evils which arise from the indulgence of vain aspirations, indicate the lessons which are taught by her career. In the twenty-fifth year of her reign, her life was suddenly terminated by the violent hand of her own son. After death she was transformed, as it was believed, into a dove, under the symbol of which she received divine honors throughout Assyria.
It would seem that literary women were not less known in ancient times than at the present day. Sappho took her place in the galaxy of literary fame six hundred years before Christ. So sublime, and yet so sweet, were her lyric strains that the Greeks pronounced her the tenth Muse. Longinus cites from her writings specimens of the sublime, and extols her genius as unrivalled. Beneficent as talented, she instituted an academy of music for young maidens, wrote nine books of lyric verse, and many other compositions of great merit. But of all her writings, however, only one or two of her odes have survived. Her fate was an unhappy one. She became violently enamoured of a young man of Mitylene, who was so ungallant as not to reciprocate her attachment; and being reduced to a state of hopeless despair, she precipitated herself into the sea from the steep cliff of Leucate, ever since called the "Lover's Leap."
In this connection we ought not to omit the name of Aspasia, who, at a period two centuries later than Sappho, emerged like a star in a darkened sky and charmed the age in which she lived with the fascinations of her rhetoric. She was not less stately and queen-like in her person than accomplished in her manners. It is said of her, that she possessed rhetorical powers which were unequalled by the public orators of her time; she was as learned as eloquent. Plato says she was the instructress of Socrates. She also instructed Pericles in the arts of oratory, and afterwards married him. He was largely indebted to her for his finish of education and elegance of manners, for which he was so much distinguished.
So charming were Aspasia's conversational powers that the Athenians sought every opportunity to introduce their wives into her presence, that they might learn from her the art of employing an elegant diction. On one occasion when the Athenian army had been disheartened, she appeared in the public assembly of the people and pronounced an oration, which so thrilled their breasts as to inspire new hopes, and induce them to rally and redeem their cause.