Part 19
7. Let the tyrant cajole and fondle, it avails not; let the tyrant rail and threaten, it is still as vain; let wife entreat, let children hang upon his neck, let friends beseech, let multitudes implore, he meets affection with affection; he weeps while others weep; but, fixed as the rock in the ocean, the tempest may crash about his head, and the waves strike against his breast, his foundation based unchangeably on the centre of eternal right, his head majestically erect, gloriously lifted up to heaven, bends not before the shock, and his breast receives the tempest only to shiver it.
8. Place him in the dungeon: shut him in from the fair earth and the open sky; wrench him from the delights of home; let him be loaded with years; let him be enfeebled by sickness; let him be wearied with confinement; let life hang by the finest thread that ever held a spirit from its God,—the unwavering faith of a true man upholds him, and his hope remains undimmed, and his peace remains unbroken.
9. Call him from the dungeon to his doom, he goes rejoicing to the scaffold; he looks cheerfully on the ax; he faces death almost with gayety; he forgives his enemies; he pities his destroyers; he wishes good to all men; he gives a moment to silent prayer; he meekly lays his head upon the block;—then, there is the echo of a blow that sends a soul to heaven. This character is not imaginary; it is real, it is practicable. The original is Sir Thomas Moore, of England.
C.—THE BATTLE FIELD.
BRYANT.
1. Once this soft turf, this rivulet’s sands, Were trampled by a hurrying crowd, And fiery hearts and arméd hands Encountered in the battle-cloud.
2. Ah, never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave,— Gushed, warm with hope and valor yet, Upon the soil they fought to save.
3. Now all is calm, and fresh, and still; Alone the chirp of flitting bird, And talk of children on the hill, And bell of wandering kine,[624] are heard.
4. No solemn host goes trailing by The black-mouthed gun and staggering wain;[625] Men start not at the battle-cry;— O, be it never heard again!
5. Soon rested those who fought; but thou, Who minglest in the harder strife For truths which men receive not now,— Thy warfare only ends with life.
6. A friendless warfare! lingering long Through weary day and weary year; A wild and many-weaponed throng Hang on thy front, and flank, and rear.
7. Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, And blench not at thy chosen lot! The timid good may stand aloof, The sage may frown—yet faint thou not!
8. Nor heed the shaft too surely cast, The hissing, stinging bolt of scorn, For with thy side shall dwell at last The victory of endurance born.
9. Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again; The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshipers.
10. Yea, though thou lie upon the dust, When those who helped thee flee in fear,— Die full of hope and manly trust, Like those who fell in battle here.
11. Another hand thy sword shall wield,[626] Another hand the standard wave, Till from the trumpet’s mouth is pealed[627] The blast of triumph o’er thy grave!
[624] KINE, cows.
[625] WAIN, a wagon.
[626] WIELD, use with the hand; handle.
[627] PEALˊ-ED, rung; resounded; sounded loudly.
CI.—THE RELIGION OF CATHOLICS.
DR. DOYLE.
Right Reverend James Doyle was born at New Ross, County Wexford, Ireland, in 1786; died in 1834. His letters written over the signature of J. K. on all the great topics of the day in Ireland, are classed among the ablest documents of the kind ever written.
1. It was the creed, my lord, of a Charlemagne and of a St. Louis, of an Alfred and an Edward, of the monarchs of the feudal times, as well as of the Emperors of Greece and Rome; it was believed at Venice and at Genoa, in Lucca and the Helvetic nations in the days of their freedom and greatness; all the barons of the middle ages, all the free cities of later times, professed the religion we now profess. You know well my lord, that the charter of British freedom, and the common law of England, have their origin and source in Catholic times.
2. Who framed the free constitutions of the Spanish Goths? Who preserved science and literature, during the long night of the middle ages? Who imported literature from Constantinople, and opened for her an asylum at Rome, Florence, Padua, Paris and Oxford? Who polished Europe by art, and refined her by legislation? Who discovered the New World and opened a passage to another? Who were the masters of architecture, of painting, and of music? Who invented the compass, and the art of printing? Who were the poets, the historians, the jurists, the men of deep research, and profound literature?
3. Who have exalted human nature, and made man appear again little less than the angels? Were they not almost exclusively the professors of our creed? Were they who created and possessed freedom under every shape and form, unfit for her enjoyment? Were men, deemed even now the lights of the world and the benefactors of the human race, the deluded victims of a slavish superstition? But what is there in our creed which renders us unfit for freedom?
4. Is it the doctrine of passive obedience? No, for the obedience we yield to authority, is not blind, but reasonable? our religion does not create despotism; it supports every established constitution which is not opposed to the laws of nature, unless it be altered by those who are entitled to change it. In Poland it supported an elective monarch; in France an hereditary sovereign; in Spain, an absolute or constitutional king indifferently; in England when the houses of York and Lancaster contended, it declared that he who was king _de facto_ was entitled to the obedience of the people.
5. During the reign of the Tudors, there was a faithful adherence of the Catholics to their prince, under trials the most severe and galling, because the constitution required it; the same was exhibited by them to the ungrateful race of Stuart; but since the expulsion of James (foolishly called an abdication), have they not adopted with the nation at large, the doctrine of the Revolution: “that the crown is held in trust for the benefit of the people; and that should the monarch violate his compact, the subject is freed from the bond of his allegiance?” Has there been any form of government ever devised by man to which the religion of Catholics has not been accommodated?
6. Is there any obligation, either to a prince, or to a constitution, which it does not enforce? What, my lord, is the allegiance of man divided who gives to Cæsar what belongs to Cæsar, and to God what belongs to God? Is the allegiance of the priest divided who yields submission to his bishop and his king?—of the son who obeys his parent and his prince? And yet these duties are more distinct than those which we owe our sovereign and spiritual head. Is there any man in society who has not distinct duties to discharge?
7. May not the same person be the head of a corporation, and an officer of the king? a justice of the peace, perhaps, and a bankrupt surgeon, with half his pay? And are the duties thus imposed upon him, incompatible one with another? If the Pope can define that the Jewish sabbath is dissolved, and that the Lord’s day is to be sanctified, may not this be believed without prejudice to the act of settlement, or that for the limitation of the crown? If the Church decree that on Fridays her children should abstain from flesh-meat, are they thereby controlled from obeying the king when he summons them to war?
CII.—A BIRTH-DAY OFFERING.
DR. NEWMAN.
Dr. John Henry Newman, a distinguished Catholic Ecclesiastic, was formerly a minister of the Established Church in England, and leader of what has been called the Puseyite movement. He is a man of very remarkable ability.
1. Dear Frank, this morn has ushered in The manhood of thy days; A boy no more, thou must begin To choose thy future ways; To brace thy arm, and nerve thy heart, For maintenance of a noble part.
2. And thou a voucher[628] fair hast given, Of what thou wilt achieve, Ere age has dimmed thy sunlit heaven In weary life’s chill eve; Should Sovereign Wisdom in its grace Vouchsafe to thee so long a race.
3. My brother, we are linked with chain That time shall ne’er destroy; Together we have been in pain, Together now in joy; For duly I to share may claim The present brightness of thy name.
4. My brother, ’tis no recent tie Which binds our fates in one, E’en from our tender infancy The twisted thread was spun;— Her deed, who stored in her fond mind Our forms, by sacred love enshrined.[629]
5. In her affection all had share, All six, she loved them all; Yet on her early-chosen Pair Did her full favor fall; And we became her dearest theme, Her waking thought, her nightly dream.
6. Ah! brother, shall we e’er forget Her love, her care, her zeal? We cannot pay the countless debt, But we must ever feel; For through her earnestness were shed Prayer-purchased blessings on our head.
7. Though in the end of days she stood, And pain and weakness came, Her force of thought was unsubdued, Her fire of love the same; And e’en when memory failed its part, We still kept lodgment in her heart.
8. And when her Maker from the thrall[630] Of flesh her spirit freed, No suffering ’companied the call, —In mercy ’twas decreed,— One moment here, the next she trod The viewless mansion of her God.
9. Now then at length she is at rest, And, after many a woe, Rejoices in that Saviour blest, Who was her hope below; Kept till the day when he shall own His saints before His Father’s throne.
10. So it is left for us to prove Her prayers were not in vain; And that God’s grace-according love Has fallen as gentle rain, Which, sent in the due vernal[631] hour, Tints the young leaf, perfumes the flower.
11. Dear Frank, we both are summoned now As champions of the Lord;— Enrolled am I, and shortly thou Must buckle on thy sword; A high employ, nor lightly given, To serve as messengers of heaven!
12. Deep in my heart that gift I hide; I change it not away, For patriot-warrior’s hour of pride, Or statesman’s tranquil[632] sway; For poet’s fire, or pleader’s skill To pierce the soul and tame the will.
13. O! may we follow undismayed[633] Where’er our God shall call! And may His Spirit’s present aid Uphold us lest we fall! Till in the end of days we stand, As victors in a deathless land.
[628] VOUCHˊ-ER, a warrant; a testimony.
[629] EN-SHRINˊ-ED, enclosed.
[630] THRALL, bondage.
[631] VERˊ-NAL, belonging to Spring.
[632] TRANˊ-QUIL, peaceful; undisturbed.
[633] UN-DIS-MAYEDˊ, with courage.
CIII.—SPEECH OF LOGAN, CHIEF OF THE MINGOES.
JEFFERSON.
1. I may challenge the whole of the orations of Demosthenes and Cicero, and, indeed, of any more eminent orators, if Europe, or the world, has furnished more eminent, to produce a single passage superior to the speech of Logan, a Mingo chief, delivered to Lord Dunmore, when governor of Virginia. As a testimony of Indian talents in this line, I beg leave to introduce it, by first stating the incidents necessary for understanding it.
2. In the spring of the year 1774, a robbery was committed, by some Indians, upon certain land adventurers[634] on the Ohio river. The whites in that quarter, according to their custom, undertook to punish this outrage in a summary[635] way. Captain Michael Cresap, and one Daniel Greathouse, leading on these parties, surprised, at different times, traveling and hunting parties of the Indians, who had their women and children with them, and murdered many. Among these, were unfortunately the family of Logan, a chief celebrated in peace and war, and long distinguished as the friend of the whites.
3. This unworthy return provoked his vengeance. He accordingly signalized[636] himself in the war which ensued. In the autumn of the same year a decisive battle was fought at the mouth of the Great Kanhawa, between the collected forces of the Shawnees, the Mingoes, and the Delawares, and a detachment[637] of the Virginia militia. The Indians were defeated, and sued for peace. Logan, however, disdained to be seen among the suppliants: but, lest the sincerity of a treaty from which so distinguished a chief absented himself, should be distrusted, he sent by a messenger, the following speech to be delivered to Lord Dunmore.
4. “I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered Logan’s cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said ‘Logan is the friend of the white men.’ I had even thought to live with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, last spring in cold blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the relatives of Logan, not sparing even my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed many. I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace: but do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one.”
[634] AD-VENTˊ-UR-ERS, those who attempt difficult enterprises.
[635] SUMˊ-MA-RY, short; brief.
[636] SIGˊ-NAL-I-ZED, made remarkable.
[637] DE-TACHˊ-MENT, a party sent off from the main body.
CIV.—GOD IS EVERY WHERE.
1. Oh! show me where is He, The high and holy One, To whom thou bend’st the knee, And pray’st, “Thy will be done!” I hear thy song of praise, And lo! no _form_ is near: Thine _eyes_ I see thee raise, But where doth God appear? Oh! teach me who _is_ God, and where his glories shine, That I may kneel and pray, and call _thy_ Father _mine_.
2. “Gaze on that arch above: The glittering vault admire. _Who_ taught these orbs to move? _Who_ lit their ceaseless fire? _Who_ guides the moon to run In silence through the skies? _Who_ bids that dawning sun In strength and beauty rise? There view immensity! behold! my God is there: The sun, the moon, the stars, his majesty declare.
3. “See where the _mountains_ rise; Where thundering _torrents_ foam; Where, vailed in towering skies, The _eagle_ makes his home: Where savage nature dwells, My God is present too; Through all her wildest dells His footsteps I pursue: _He_ reared those giant cliffs, supplies that dashing stream, Provides the daily food which stills the wild bird’s scream.
4. “Look on that world of _waves_, Where finny nations glide; Within whose deep, dark caves The ocean-monsters hide: His power is sovereign there, To raise, to quell the storm; The depths His bounty share, Where sport the scaly swarm; Tempests and calms obey the same almighty voice, Which rules the earth and skies, and bids far worlds rejoice.
5. “No human thoughts can soar Beyond His boundless might; _He_ swells the thunder’s roar, _He_ spreads the wings of night. Oh! praise His works divine! Bow down thy soul in prayer; Nor ask for other sign, That God is everywhere: The viewless spirit, He—immortal, holy, blest— Oh! worship Him in faith, and find eternal rest!”
CV.—CHARACTER OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY.
BARRINGTON.
Sir Jonah Barrington was born in Ireland in 1767, and died in 1834. He was a member of the Irish Parliament which met in Dublin before the act of Union in 1800, and which numbered among its members a great many men of distinguished character and brilliant talents, such as Grattan, Curran, Plunkett, Flood, and others. His “Personal Sketches” are racy, humorous, and full of interesting anecdotes.
1. The Irish people have been as little known, as they have been grossly defamed, to the rest of Europe. The lengths to which English writers have proceeded in pursuit of this object would surpass all belief, were not the facts proved by histories written under the immediate eye and sanction of Irish governments; histories replete with falsehood, which, combined with the still more mischievous misrepresentations of modern writers, form altogether a mass of the most cruel calumnies that ever weighed down the character of a meritorious[638] people.
2. This system, however, was not without its meaning. From the reign of Elizabeth, the policy of England has been to keep Ireland in a state of internal division; perfect unanimity among her inhabitants has been considered as likely to give her a population and a power incompatible[639] with subjection,[640] and there are not wanting natives of Ireland, who, impressed with that erroneous idea, zealously plunge into the same doctrine, as if they would best prove their loyalty to the king by vilifying their country.
3. The Irish peasantry, who necessarily compose the great body of the population, combine in their character many of those singular and repugnant[641] qualities which peculiarly designate the people of different nations; and this remarkable contrariety of characteristic traits pervades almost the whole current of their natural dispositions. Laborious, domestic, accustomed to want in the midst of plenty, they submit to hardships without repining, and bear the severest privations with stoic fortitude. The sharpest wit, and the shrewdest subtilty, which abound in the character of the Irish peasant, generally lie concealed under the semblance of dullness, or the appearance of simplicity; and his language, replete with the keenest humor, possesses an idiom of equivocation,[642] which never fails successfully to evade a direct answer to an unwelcome question.
4. Inquisitive, artful, and penetrating, the Irish peasant learns mankind without extensive intercourse, and has an instinctive knowledge of the world, without mingling in its societies; and never, in any other instance, did there exist a people who could display so much address and so much talent in the ordinary transactions of life as the Irish peasantry.
5. The Irish peasant has, at all periods, been peculiarly distinguished for unbounded but indiscriminate[643] hospitality, which, though naturally devoted to the necessities of a friend, is never denied by him even to the distresses of an enemy.[644] To be in want or misery, is the best recommendation to his disinterested protection; his food, his bed, his raiment, are equally the stranger’s and his own; and the deeper the distress the more welcome is the sufferer to the peasant’s cottage.
6. His attachments to his kindred are of the strongest nature. The social duties are intimately blended with the natural disposition of an Irish peasant; though covered with rags, oppressed with poverty, and perhaps with hunger, the finest specimens of generosity and heroism are to be found in his unequaled character.
7. An enthusiastic attachment to the place of their nativity is another striking trait of the Irish character, which neither time nor absence, prosperity nor adversity, can obliterate or diminish. Wherever an Irish peasant was born, there he wishes to die; and, however successful in acquiring wealth or rank in distant places, he returns with fond affections to renew his intercourse with the friends and companions of his youth and his obscurity.
8. An innate spirit of insubordination to the laws has been strongly charged upon the Irish peasantry; but a people to whom the punishment of crimes appears rather as a sacrifice to revenge than a measure of prevention, can never have the same deference to the law as those who are instructed in the principles of justice and taught to recognize its equality. It has, however, been uniformly admitted by every impartial writer on the affairs of Ireland, that a spirit of strict justice has ever characterized the Irish peasant.[645]
9. Convince him by plain and impartial reasoning, that he is wrong; and he withdraws from the judgment-seat, if not with cheerfulness, at least with submission: but, to make him respect the laws, he must be satisfied that they are impartial; and, with that conviction on his mind, the Irish peasant is as perfectly tractable as the native of any other country in the world.
10. An attachment to, and a respect for females, is another characteristic of the Irish peasant. The wife partakes of all her husband’s vicissitudes; she shares his labor and his miseries, with constancy and with affection. At all the sports and meetings of the Irish peasantry, the women are always of the company; they have a great influence; and, in his smoky cottage, the Irish peasant, surrounded by his family, seems to forget all his privations. The natural cheerfulness of his disposition banishes reflection; and he experiences a simple happiness, which even the highest ranks of society might justly envy.
[638] MERˊ-I-TOˊ-RI-OUS, having merit, deserving well.
[639] IN-COM-PATˊ-I-BLE, inconsistent.
[640] SUB-JECˊ-TION, under control, being subject to.
[641] RE-PUGˊ-NANT, opposite; inconsistent.
[642] E-QUIVˊ-O-CA-TION, ambiguity of speech.
[643] IN-DIS-CRIMˊ-IN-ATE, not making distinction.
[644] It has been remarked that the English and Irish people form their judgment of strangers very differently:—an Englishman suspects a stranger to be a rogue, till he finds that he is an honest man; the Irishman conceives every person to be an honest man till he finds him out to be a rogue; and this accounts for the very striking difference in their conduct and hospitality to strangers.
[645] Sir John Davis, attorney-general of Ireland, who, in the reign of James the First, was employed by the king to establish the English laws throughout Ireland, and who made himself perfectly acquainted with the character of the inhabitants, admits that “there were no people under heaven, who loved equal and impartial justice better than the Irish.”
CVI.—ADVICE TO A YOUNG CRITIC.
POPE.
1. ’Tis not enough, taste, judgment, learning join; In all you speak, let truth and candor shine; That not alone what to your sense is due All may allow, but seek your friendship too. Be silent always, when you doubt your sense, And speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence.[646]
2. Some positive, persisting[647] fops we know, Who, if once wrong, will needs be always so: But _you_, with pleasure, own your errors past, And make each day a critic on the last. ’Tis not enough your counsel to be true: Blunt truths more mischief than slight errors do; Men must be taught, as if you taught them not, And things unknown proposed, as things forgot.
3. Without good breeding truth is disapproved; That only makes superior sense beloved. Be niggard[648] of advice on no pretense; For the worst avarice is that of sense. With mean complacence[649] ne’er betray your trust Nor be so civil as to prove unjust. Fear not the anger of the wise to raise; Those best can bear reproof, who merit praise.