Part 3

Next to a gallery of portraits in oil, must be reckoned a cabinet of miniatures, and indeed if these are by masters like Oliver and Cooper and Petitôt, they are of equal value, both as portraits and pictures, with the larger works. But now, nearly all the works of these celebrated artists are gathered into collections such as that of the Duke of Buccleugh, whence no collector can hope to charm them, charm he never so wisely. The first large collection of miniatures formed was that of Walpole. Until recently few persons sought for more than family portraits, or those of friends, and Walpole was enabled therefore to form his matchless collection of miniatures with comparative ease and at a comparatively moderate expense. At that time, he says, they were “superior to any other collection whatever,” and particularly as regards the works of Peter and Isaac Oliver, “the best extant, and as perfect as when they came from the hand of the painter.”

To collect all the portraits that have ever been engraved is of course a hopeless task, and there would necessarily be so many important hiatuses, that no one probably now-a-days will enter on the undertaking. Yet it was attempted, and it must have been an exciting occupation, too serious for an amusement or recreation, for the several collectors, who then all ran for the same goal, to outdo and outbid each other in forming their collections. It is astonishing how interesting a collection may be made of portraits of a more limited range. Walpole’s Royal and Noble Authors, or Lodge’s Memoirs, are more readable than the Biographia Britannica, or Bayle’s Dictionary; and two or three folios of portraits of a particular class, or of a particular era, well arranged and annotated may be made much more amusing, recreative, and interesting than dozens of cabinets filled with a miscellaneous assemblage of portraits of people of all sorts who have lived “everywhen” and everywhere. The collector may himself make a book by collecting some series of portraits, as of statesmen, poets, actors, etc., etc., of some particular period, and placing opposite to each a few salient biographical paragraphs. A few dates should be given, as of birth, death, etc., but no attempt need be made to furnish a full biography. It should be endeavored rather to heighten our interest in the portrait by recalling or recording a few anecdotes, than to attempt to vie with a biographical dictionary. Just as in passing along a gallery of portraits, or noticing those in a great house, we pause not only to criticise the figure, or the complexion and expression of the face, but to remark such and such an event in the life of him or her who is before us. What is wanted in these inscriptions is not a serious biography of the individual, but, besides a few special facts and dates, some short characteristic anecdotes not generally met with in biographies, but to be picked up in “_Memoires pour servir_”—and similar ana.

Almost the first great or systematic collectors of engraved portraits in England were Evelyn and Pepys; the former having the start. It was not till about 1668 that Pepys began collecting portraits, getting many of Nanteuil, etc., from France, and being helped with the advice of Evelyn, as well as with specimens from his collection. In 1669 he went to France, and doubtless collected there many things (which are now in the Pepysian Library) on the recommendation of his friend, who says in one of his letters at this time, printed by Lord Braybrooke, “They will greatly refresh you in your study, and by your fireside, when you are many years returned.”

Yes, they will indeed refresh you! This is one of the great charms of such reminiscences of travel, that when you come home you are constantly traveling again in looking over sketches, pictures, and books. You see an engraving of the Madonna della Sedia, and away you are at once, quicker than the telegraph, to Florence the Fair, and to that sunny day, when crossing the Arno by the Ponte Vecchio, you first came to the Palazzo Pitti, and, passing by wonders and wonders of art, you stopped at last by _the_ Raffaelle and forgot the world, absorbed by that which is indeed “a joy forever.” In the same way you turn over a folio of portraits. Here are Elizabeth, Leicester, Raleigh, Shakspere, Melville, and Mary of Scots—and you walk about London and Greenwich, and visit the world of three hundred years ago! Or you take up a folio of a later period, where are Charles the Second, Buckingham, Rochester, Grammont, Sedley, Killigrew, York, Clarendon, Dryden, Lely, Castlemaine, Stewart, Nelly, and the Queen—and you are dining at one o’clock with the learned Mr. Evelyn and the wondrous Pepys, talking and telling anecdotes (with a good deal of relish) of the bad goings on of those times, A. D. 1666. Or, whisking out another folio, you rush off to Sir Joshua Reynolds’s and laugh and criticise, mourn and moralize with Goldsmith, Johnson, Burke, and Garrick, and think of Hogarth “over the way,” and of Chesterfield, Walpole, the Gunnings, Kitty Clive, Nelly O’Brien, and many more who have, unconsciously to themselves and to us, moved the world a step forward. These are among the charms, the pleasures and advantages of collections of portraits.

BEYOND.

By MRS. EMILY J. BUGBEE.

Oh! depths unknown, Oh! wide unfathomed seas, That circle round His throne, Who dwellest high and lone, Where noise and tumult cease, In the eternal peace.

Insatiate, unrepressed, Our longings still arise, Our weariness confessed, Far reaching after rest, Where the full ocean lies Beyond the veiling skies.

How scant the store Of knowledge gathered here; Small pebbles on the shore, The soul cries out for more. Doth God bend down his ear, Our longing cry to hear?

Nearer to thee, Great source of life and light, The child upon our knee, From pride and doubting free, Than man, from boasted height Of intellectual might.

SONNET OF PETROCCHI.

Translated by STRONG.

I ask’d of Time, to whom arose this high Majestic pile, here mouldering in decay? He answered not, but swifter sped his way With ceaseless pinions winnowing the sky. To Fame I turn’d: “Speak thou, whose sons defy The waste of years, and deathless works essay.” She heaved a sigh, as one to grief a prey And silent, downward cast her tearful eye. Onward I pass’d, but sad and thoughtful grown, When, stern in aspect o’er the ruin’d shrine I saw Oblivion stalk from stone to stone. “Dread power,” I cried, “Tell me whose vast design.” He check’d my further speech, in sullen tone: “Whose once it was, I care not; now ’tis mine.”

RESULTS OF THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA.

By JOHN LORD, LL.D.

The _material_ consequences of the discovery of America were brilliant and important. They first stimulated the passion for further explorations, and among all the maritime nations of Europe. Hence the voyages of Ojeda, of Nino, of Puiza, of Balboa, of Vespucci, of Cabot, of Raleigh, and various other men of enterprise. They did not rest until they had explored the coasts and rivers of the whole American continent, north and south. The Spaniards took the lead, and, following in their steps, the Portuguese doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and established their factories in the islands of the Indian Ocean. The Dutch and English were animated by the same zeal, until the East and West Indies were known to travelers and merchants. The French missionaries explored the wilds of the North, and sailed down the Mississippi and the St. Lawrence. In a few years the grand outlines of North and South America were known to geographical scholars. A new world was opened to the enterprise of Europeans. Then followed the conquest of such parts of America as stimulated the ambition and avarice of the Europeans, especially of Spain, who claimed the quarter part of the American continent. These conquests were atrocious, from the cruelties inflicted on the unsuspecting natives, to whom the country belonged. The discovery of the precious metals in Brazil, Peru, and Mexico, and the repute of their abundance, was the cause of these conquests.

At last followed colonization, not so much with a view of permanent settlement or agricultural improvements, as the desire and hope of getting rich in the mines. Colonization had no dignity until the English settled in Virginia and in New England. Gold was the first stimulus, a fertile country the second, and religious liberty the third. The views of those who colonized Virginia were different from those who landed on Plymouth Rock. But all the colonists doubtless sought to improve their condition; and for two hundred years and more the stream of emigration has flowed toward the West. The poor, the miserable, as well as the intelligent and enterprising in all parts of Europe, have regarded America as a refuge and a home.

We next notice an amazing stimulus to commerce, and the enrichment of Spain by the possession of the new mines of silver and gold. Wealth flowed in a steady stream to Spain, and that country became the richest and most powerful in Europe. The Spanish navy became the greatest in the world, and Spain prospered beyond all precedent.

Another interesting inquiry arises, how far the nations of Europe were really enriched by the rapid accumulation of gold and silver. The search for the precious metals may have stimulated commercial enterprise, but it is not so clear that they added to the substantial wealth of Europe, except so far as they promoted industry. Gold is not wealth; it is the exponent of wealth. Real wealth is in farms, and shops, and ships—in the various channels of industry, in the results of human labor.

So far as the precious metals enter into useful manufactures, or into articles of beauty and taste, they are indeed inherently valuable. Mirrors, plate, jewelry, watches, gilded furniture, the adornments of the person, in an important sense constitute wealth, since all nations value them and will pay for them as they do for corn and oil. So far as they are connected with art, they are valuable in the same sense as statues and pictures on which labor has been expended. There is something useful and even necessary besides food and raiment and houses. The gold which ornamented Solomon’s temple, or the Minerva of Phidias, or the garments of Leo X., had a value. The ring which is a present to brides is a part of a marriage ceremony. The gold watch, which never tarnishes, is more valuable inherently than a pewter one, because it remains beautiful. Then when gold enters into ornaments, deemed indispensable, or into manufactures which are needed, it has an inherent value. It is wealth. But when it is a mere medium of exchange—its chief use—then it has only a conventional value. I mean it does not make a nation rich or poor, since the rarer it is the more it will purchase of the necessities of life. A pound weight of gold in ancient Greece, or in mediæval Europe, would purchase as much wheat as twenty pounds weight would purchase to-day. If the mines of Mexico, or Peru, or California had never been worked, the gold in the civilized world three hundred years ago would have been as valuable for banking purposes, or as an exchange for agricultural products, as twenty times its present quantity, since it would have bought as much as twenty times the quantity would buy to-day. Make diamonds as plenty as crystals, they would be worth no more than crystals, if they were not harder and more beautiful than crystals. Make gold as plenty as silver, it would be worth no more than silver, except for manufacturing purposes. It would be worth no more than silver to bankers and merchants. The vast increase in the production of the precious metals simply increased the value of the commodities for which they were exchanged. A laborer can purchase no more bread with a dollar to-day than he could with five cents three hundred years ago. Five cents were really as much wealth three hundred years ago as a dollar is to-day. Wherein, then, has the increase in the precious metals added to the wealth of the world, if a twentieth part of the gold and silver now in circulation would buy as much land, or furniture, or wheat, or oil, three hundred years ago, as twenty times the quantity of gold and silver would buy to-day? Had no gold or silver mines been discovered in America, the gold and silver would have appreciated in value in proportion to the wear of them. In other words, the scarcer the gold and silver the more the same will purchase of the fruits of human industry. So industry is the wealth, not the gold. It is the cultivated farms and the manufactures, and the buildings, and the internal improvements of a country, which constitute its real wealth, since they represent its industry—the labor of men.

Mines indeed employ the labor of men, but they do not furnish food for the body, or raiment to wear, or houses to live in, or fuel for cooking, or for any purpose whatever of human comfort or necessity—only material for ornament, which I grant is wealth so far as ornament is for the welfare of man. The marbles of ancient Greece are very valuable for the labor expended on them either for architecture or ornament.

Gold and silver were early selected as a useful and convenient article of exchange, like bank notes, and so have inherent value as they supply that necessity, but if a quarter part of the gold and silver in existence would supply that necessity, the remaining three-fourths would be as inherently valueless as the paper on which bank notes are engraved. Value consists in what they represent of the labors and industries of men.

Now Spain ultimately became poor, in spite of the influx of gold and silver from the American mines, because industries of all kinds declined. People were diverted from useful callings by the mighty delusion which gold discoveries created. These discoveries had the same effect on industry, which is the wealth of nations, as the support of standing armies in our day. They diverted men from legitimate callings. The miners had to be supported like soldiers, and the sudden influx of gold and silver, intoxicated men and stimulated speculation. An army of speculators does not enrich a nation, since they rob each other. They earn money to change hands. They do not stimulate industry. They do not create wealth, they simply make it flow from one person to another.

But speculations sometimes create activity in enterprise. They inflame desire for wealth and cause people to make greater exertions. In that sense, the discovery of American mines gave a stimulus to commerce and travel and energy. People rushed to America for gold. Those people had to be fed and clothed. Then farmers and manufacturers followed the gold-hunters. They tilled the soil to feed the mines. The new farms which dotted the region of the gold diggers added to the wealth of the country in which the mines were located. Colonization followed gold-digging. But it was America that became enriched, not the old countries from which the miners came, except so far as the old countries furnished tools and ships and fabrics. Doubtless commerce and manufactures were stimulated. So far the wealth of the world increased. But the men who returned to riot in luxury and idleness did not stimulate enterprise. They made others idle also. The necessity of labor was lost sight of.

And yet if one country became idle, another country may have become industrious. There can be but little question that the discovery of American mines gave commerce and manufactures and agriculture, on the whole, a stimulus. This was particularly seen in England. England grew rich from industry and enterprise, as Spain became poor from idleness and luxury. The silver and gold, diffused through Europe, ultimately found their way into the pockets of Englishmen who made a market of their manufactures. It was not the precious metals which enriched England, but those articles of industry for which the rest of the world parted with their gold and silver. What has made France rich since the revolution? Those innumerable articles of taste and elegance, fabrics for which all Europe parted with its specie, not war, not conquest, not mines. Why, till recently, was Germany so poor?—because it had so little to sell to other nations—because industry was cramped by standing armies and despotic government.

One thing is certain, that the discovery of America opened a new field for industry and enterprise to all the discontented and impoverished and oppressed Europeans who emigrated. At first they emigrated to dig silver and gold. The opening of mines required labor, and miners were obliged to part with their gold for the necessities of life. Thus California, in our day, has become peopled with farmers and merchants and manufacturers as well as miners. Many came to America expecting to find gold and were disappointed and were obliged to turn agriculturists, as in Virginia. Many came to New England from political and religious motives. But all came to better their fortunes. Gradually the United States and Canada became populated from east to west, and from north to south. The surplus population of Europe poured itself into the wilds of America. Generally the emigrants were farmers. With the growth of agricultural industry was developed commerce and manufactures. Thus, materially, the world was immensely benefited. A new continent was opened for industry. No matter what the form of government may be—I might almost say no matter what the morals and religion of the people may be—so long as there is land to occupy, and to be sold cheap, the continent will fill up, and will be as densely populated as Europe or Asia, because the natural advantages are good. The rivers and the lakes will be navigated. The products of the country will be exchanged for European and Asiatic products. Wealth will certainly increase, and increase indefinitely.

There is no calculating the future greatness and wealth of the new world, especially in the United States. There are no bounds to commerce, manufactures, and agricultural products. We can predict with certainty the rise of new cities, villas, palaces, material splendor limited only to the increasing resources and population of the country. Who can tell the number of miles of new railroads yet to be made, the new inventions to abridge human labor? What great empires are destined to rise! What unknown forms of luxury will be found out! What new and magnificent trophies of art and science will gradually be seen! What mechanisms, what material glories are sure to come! This is not speculation. Nothing can retard the growth of America in material wealth and glory. The tower of the new Babel will rise to the clouds, and be seen in all its glory throughout the earth and sea. No Fourth of July orator ever exaggerated the future destinies of America in a material point of view. No “spread eagle” politician ever conceived what is sure to come.

And what then? Grant the most indefinite expansion—the growth of empires whose splendor and wealth and power shall utterly eclipse the glories of the old world. All this is probable. But when we have dwelt on the future material expansion—when we have given wings to imagination, and feel that even imagination can not reach the probable realities, in a material aspect, then our predictions and calculations stop. Beyond material glories we can not count with certainty.

The world has witnessed many powerful empires which have passed away, “leaving scarcely a wreck behind.” What remains of the antediluvian world? Not even a spike of Noah’s Ark, larger and stronger than any modern ship. What remains of Babylon, of Thebes, of Tyre, of Carthage—those great cities of wealth and power? What remains of Roman greatness, even, except in laws and literature, and renovated statues? Remember, there is an undeviating uniformity in the past history of nations. What is the simple story of all the ages?—industry, wealth, corruption, decay and ruin. What conservative power has been strong enough to arrest the ruin of the nations of antiquity? Have not material forces and glories been developed and exhibited, whatever the religion and morals of the fallen nations? Can not a country grow materially to a point under the most adverse influence in a religious and moral point of view? Yet for lack of religion and morals the nations perished, and their Babel towers were buried in the dust. They perished for lack of true conservative forces—at least that is the judgment of historians. Nobody doubts the splendor of the material glories of the ancient nations. The ruins of Baalbec, of Palmyra, of Athens, prove this, to say nothing of history. The material glories of the ancient nations may be surpassed by our modern wonders, but yet all the material glories of the ancient nations passed away.

Now, if this is to be the destiny of America—an unbounded material growth, followed by corruption and ruin, then Columbus has simply extended the realm for men to try material experiments. Make New York a second Carthage, and Boston a second Athens, and Philadelphia a second Antioch, and Washington a second Rome, and we simply repeat the old experiment. Did not the Romans have nearly all we have, materially, except our modern scientific inventions? But has America no higher destiny than to repeat the old experiments, and improve upon them and become rich and powerful? Has she no higher and nobler mission? Can she lay hold of forces that the old world never had, such as will prevent the uniform doom of nations? I maintain that there is no reason that can be urged, based on history and experience, why she should escape the fate of the nations of antiquity, unless new forces arise on this continent, different from what the world has known, and which have a conservative influence. If America has a great mission to declare and to fulfill, she must put forth altogether new forces, and they not material. That alone will save her, and save the world. It is mournful to contemplate even the future material glories of America, if they are not to be preserved—if these are to share the fate of ancient wonders. It is obvious that the real glory of America is to be something entirely different from that of which the ancients boasted. And this is to be to the moral and spiritual, that which the ancients lacked. And this leads me to speak of the moral consequences of the discovery of America—infinitely grander than any material wonders, of which the world has been full, of which nearly every form of paganism has boasted, and which must necessarily perish, everywhere, without new forces to preserve them. In a moral point of view scarcely anything good resulted, at least to Europe, by the discovery of America. It excited the wildest spirit of adventure, the most unscrupulous cupidity, the most demoralizing speculations. It created jealousies and wars. The cruelties and injustices inflicted on the Indians were revolting. Nothing in the annals of the world exceeded the wickednesses of the Spaniards in the conquest of Peru and Mexico. That conquest is the most dismal and least glorious in human history. We see no poetry or heroism or necessity. We read of nothing but crimes. The Jesuits, in their missionary zeal, partly redeemed the cruelties, but they soon imposed a despotic yoke and made their religion pay. Monopolies scandalously increased, and the New World was regarded only as spoil. The tone of moral feeling was lowered everywhere, for the natives were crazed with the hope of sudden accumulation. Spain became enervated and demoralized.