Part 2

THE GOTHIC MIGRATION--SCANDINAVIAN PIRATES--THEIR FOOT-PRINTS ON ENGLISH SOIL--NORMANS HOTLY RECEIVED BY THEIR KINDRED, THE DANES--OLD GOTHIC WARS--"THE YENGHEES AND THE DIXEES"--WESTWARD MARCH OF THE TEUTON AND THE GOTH--GENESIS OF THE SCANDINAVIAN--CRADLE OF THE RACE--ROLF GANGER A POTENTIAL FORCE--RECONSTRUCTION OF THE MODERN WORLD--WILLIAM OF NORMANDY 108

XV

STRAGGLERS IN THE GOTHIC MIGRATION--JUTES, ANGLES, SAXONS--THE TWO GREAT RACES; TEUTONS AND SCANDINAVIANS--"MIXED RACES" PLANTED ON THE SOUTHERN SHORES OF THE NORTH SEA 114

XVI

AUTHENTIC LISTS OF OLD NORMAN NAMES--DESCENDANTS OF ILLUSTRIOUS FAMILIES--THE NORMAN CAPACITY FOR LEADERSHIP NOT "LOST"--ALPHABETICAL SERIES OF NAMES (FROM "THE NORMAN PEOPLE"); ENGLISH NAMES ORIGINALLY NORMAN--FAMILIAR AS HOUSEHOLD WORDS IN KENTUCKY--A LEGAL MAXIM--ELEMENTS OF THE ENGLISH RACE--PREPONDERANCE OF SCANDINAVIAN BLOOD--STEVENSON AND DISRAELI--LORD LYTTON--MALTEBRUN--SCANDINAVIAN CHARACTERISTICS--PHYSIQUE--SOCIAL TRAITS--PASSION FOR "STRONG LIQUOR"--HOSPITALITY 117

XVII

CAPTAIN SHALER QUOTED--MEASUREMENTS OF AMERICAN SOLDIERS BY THE MATHEMATICIAN GOULD--SUPERIOR PHYSICAL VIGOR OF THE "REBEL EXILES"--GENERAL HUMPHREY MARSHALL--HIS AIDE CAPTAIN GUERRANT--GENERAL WILLIAM NELSON--"THE ORPHAN BRIGADE"--HEREDITARY SURNAMES AS MEMORIALS OF RACE--EVERY STEP OF NORMAN MIGRATION NOTED BY THE HISTORIC EYE--MONTALEMBERT--"MONKS OF THE WEST"--THE RUDE SAXON TRANSFIGURED BY THE ELOQUENCE OF THE GIFTED WRITER--A FIELD FOR THE PHILOLOGIST 123

XVIII

THE ALPHABETICAL SERIES OF NAMES--ANGLO-NORMAN SURNAMES--NAMES OF OBVIOUS SCANDINAVIAN DERIVATION--THE ORIGINAL DISCUSSION OF THE GENERAL QUESTION--AN EXCERPT FROM SIR WALTER SCOTT--THE "ELIZABETHAN" A PRODUCT OF A BALANCED RACE--THE MARCH OF THE GOTH RESUMED--THE VIRGINIAN HUNTER--THE YANKEE SKIPPER--A MAN OF OAK AND BRONZE 126

XIX

NORMAN CRAFT--MR. FREEMAN QUOTED--POPULAR ATTRIBUTION OF THE QUALITY--ITS VALUE IN MEDIÆVAL DAYS--ITS PREVALENCE TO-DAY 131

XX

NAMES AND NOTES--KENTUCKIAN AND NORMAN--CHARACTERISTICS IN COMMON--NORMAN TRAITS AND SAXON NAMES--ESTIMATE OF THE KENTUCKIAN FROM AN ENGLISH SOURCE 133

XXI

SHADOWS IN "ARCADY"--BRIEF PREFACE TO THE ALPHABETICAL LIST 136

APPENDIX

ALPHABETICAL SERIES OF NORSE, NORMAN, AND ANGLO-NORMAN, OR NON-SAXON, SURNAMES 141

THE QUEST FOR A LOST RACE

BY

THOMAS E. PICKETT, M. D.

I

Upon the northern border of Mr. James Lane Allen's "Arcady" there rises with picturesque distinctness against a range of green hills the pleasant old Kentucky town of Maysville, which, unlike the typical town of the South, is neither "sleepy" nor "quaint," but in a notable degree animated, bustling, ambitious, advancing, and up-to-date. It must be confessed, however, that here and there, in certain secluded localities, it is architecturally antique. Constructed almost wholly of brick, and planted solidly upon the lower slopes of the wooded hills, the site is indescribably charming, and, looked at from a distant elevation in front or from the elevated plateau of the environing hills, presents a pleasing completeness and finish in the _coup d'oeil_. At one glance the eye takes in the compact little city, set gem-like in the crescentic sweep of the river that flows placidly past the willow-fringed shore and the walled and graded front. The scene is likewise suggestive, since it marks the northern limit of the "phosphatic limestone" formation which assures the permanent productiveness of the overlying soil--a natural fertilizer which by gradual disintegration perpetually renews the soil exhausted by prolonged or injudicious cultivation.

The town is of Virginian origin. At one time, indeed, it was a Virginian town. The rich country to the south of it was peopled chiefly by tobacco planters from "Piedmont" Virginia, slaveholding Virginians of a superior class.

In the infancy of this early Virginian settlement it was vigilantly guarded by the famous Occidental hunters, Kenton and Boone; the former a commissioner of roads for the primitive Virginian county, then ill-cultivated and forest clad: the latter, a leading "trustee" of the embryonic Eighteenth Century town. As we pass through the streets near the center of the place to-day we note the handsome proportions of a public edifice which has come down to us from the early mid-century days--an imposing "colonial" structure with a lofty, well-proportioned cupola and a nobly columned front. It is that significant symbol of Southern civilization--the Courthouse. To the artistic and antiquarian eye the building is the glory of the old "Virginian" town, since it appeals at once to civic pride and superior critical taste.

It was here--in the capacious auditorium of the Courthouse, and in the closing quarter of the last century--that a large and enthusiastic gathering of really typical Kentuckians, familiar from childhood with tales of wild adventure, greeted with rapturous applause the renowned hunter and explorer, Paul Du Chaillu, a native of Paris, France. A common taste for woodcraft had brought the alien elements in touch. The Frenchman was a swell hunter of big game, and had come hither to repeat his graphic recital of experiences in the equatorial haunts of that formidable anthropoid--the Gorilla. Du Chaillu's discovery of the gorilla and the Obonga dwarfs was so astounding to modern civilization that strenuous efforts were made to discredit it, notably by Gray and Barth. But later explorations amply vindicated the Frenchman's claims.

He had a like experience later. The adventurous explorer had come to Kentucky in prompt response to an invitation from a local club, a social and literary organization which owed its popularity and success chiefly to the circumstance that the genial members, though sometimes intemperately "social," were never obtrusively "literary." The social feature was particularly pleasing to the accomplished Frenchman, who was a man of the world in every sense, and who dropped easily into congenial relations with gentlemen who had an hereditary and highly cultivated taste for _le sport_ in all its phases. Take them when or where you might, the spirit of _camaraderie_ was in them strong. They told a good story in racy English and with excellent taste. They had studied with discrimination the composition of a Bourbon "cocktail." They had a distinctly connoisseurish appreciation of the flavor, fragrance, and tints of an Havana cigar. They had a traditional preference for Bourbon in their domestic and social drinking, but they always kept ample supplies of imported wines for their guests.

The genial Frenchman was very indulgent to the generous tipple of his hosts. He drank their Bourbon without apparent distaste; he praised their imported Mumm and Clicquot. He did better still; he drank the imported champagne with appreciation--a high compliment from such a source.

Clearly enough the harmony between the guest and his environment was complete. These courteous and loquacious Kentuckians were not only brilliant and audacious _raconteurs_, but with their varied experiences as sportsmen had a variety of marvelous stories to tell. When their stock of pioneer exploits fell short, they would listen with polite interest to their guest's weird stories of the African jungle, and cleverly cap them with reminiscences of a miraculous outing on Reelfoot Lake or Kinniconick. They were themselves experts with the rifle and the long bow, and were loaded to the muzzle with authentic traditions of the rod and gun.

The jungle stories were all right, but the African hunter was never allowed to forget that he was in the land of the hunter Boone. The very ground upon which they commemoratively wassailed had been consecrated by the footsteps of the great explorer of the West. The beastly "anthropoids" that confronted _him_ were armed with tomahawks and guns. A salient point of difference indeed. The clever and daring Frenchman listened with smiling interest to their characteristic spurts of "brag," and was silently remarking, no doubt, its curious affinity to the gasconade of France. He seemed to feel perfectly at home. And who of us that were present can ever forget the impression of that dark, resolute face, the illumining smile, the gleaming teeth, and the kindly, humorous glance of the piercing eye? His experiences at the clubroom only partially prepared him for the peculiar impressiveness of the audience that greeted him at the stately old Courthouse. There were the same men, to be sure, handsome, graceful, courteous, smiling, and soft of speech; but the women!--with their lovely faces, their handsome dresses, their enchanting manners, their distinction, ease and charm! The Frenchman was never more of a philosopher than when he gazed upon this scene.

He told his tale of the jungle simply, but with a vividness that was realistic and startling to a degree. The fascination of the audience was complete. He not only described that strange encounter in the African forest, but he re-enacted the part, a representation which gave a curiously thrilling quality to the tale not appreciable when told in print, admirably as it is told in the author's famous book.

When the voice of the speaker ceased, as it did all too soon, the silent, fascinated audience, aroused from its strange African dream, broke into round after round of hearty, appreciative applause. For several moments the lecturer stood in a grave, thoughtful attitude, gazing intently upon the moving throng, not as though idly observing the dispersion of a village gathering, but as some philosophic tourist from another sphere, studying the aspect, the attitude, characteristic manner and physiognomical traits of an alien race. He asked but one question. Turning eagerly to the gentleman who accompanied him, he inquired with an expression of intense interest, as his glance fell upon a graceful Kentuckienne near the center of the throng--a lovely blonde with exquisite complexion, hair and eyes--"Who is our beautiful Scandinavian?"[2] The answer seemed to please him, and he walked thoughtfully toward the door, an object of respectful attention from the slow-moving throng, lingering as if it longed to stay. Though of small stature, he would have attracted attention anywhere. His figure was compact, lithe, elastic, and perfectly erect, his cranial outline (typically French) denoted intellectual strength and physical vigor, his facial contour was bold, regular, and pleasing--a singularly virile countenance softened and dignified by the discipline of thought. The crowd of which he is now the central figure is composed largely of men wholly different from Du Chaillu in air, stature, carriage, countenance, complexion, and racial type. Yet Nature seldom evolves from any source a solider bit of man than this gallant Frenchman from the heart of France.

[2] OUR BEAUTIFUL SCANDINAVIAN.--It may interest the general public to know that "The Beautiful Scandinavian" of the French traveler was Mrs. Elizabeth Wall, wife of that popular gentleman, Judge Garrett S. Wall. Her maiden name was BUCKNER--Elizabeth Buckner--a native of Kentucky and daughter of a famous Southern house. That she was a very beautiful woman, her portrait (taken years after marriage) amply attests; and until her ill-health came, her beauty retained, in almost ideal perfection, its characteristic grace and charm. The Beautiful Scandinavian, from whose portrait in oil a halftone likeness is presented in this book, now takes her place in history and moves down its interminable lines with an escort that recalls the "bands of gallant gentlemen" attendant upon FAIR INEZ when she "went into the West."

The distinguished guest took his departure on the following day, not with a cold adieu, but with an airy _au revoir_--as of one who, charmed with his welcome, was meditating an early return. But was he pleased? Apparently he _was_, and if not, he had the Frenchman's happy art of _seeming to be_. If here simply for observation, he certainly found no degeneracy, but rather, we should say, certain pleasing lines of variation in the Occidental evolution of the race. It seems impossible that he should not have had a pleasant impression of his hosts--these genial sons of "Arcady," forever piping their minty elixirs with oaten straws, whose drinks even when "straightest" were not stronger than their steady heads--so hospitable to strangers, so chivalrous to women, so courteous to men, so gracious in manner, so happy in speech, so loyal to kin, so proud of their Commonwealth, their ancestral traditions, and their indomitable race. They drank naught from the skulls of their enemies, but they were adepts in filling their own. Their potations were pottle deep, and the intervals between were not needlessly prolonged. And yet they rose refreshed from their heady cups, ordered their stud a drench, and sighed for work.

The adventurous Frenchman was no glutton in debauch, but in a modest symposium could always hold his own, and doubtless imagined in this festal reunion of Bourbon and Champagne that he had re-discovered the _Nouvelle France_ of the royal days when Louis le Grand was King.[3]

[3] M. Paul Du Chaillu's visit to Maysville (which is here described) took place in February, 1876. His arrival was handsomely noticed in the local papers--in the _Eagle_, edited by Mr. Thomas Marshall Green, the author of "The Spanish Conspiracy"; the _Ledger_, edited by Mr. Thomas A. Davis, who still presides over its columns with all the old-time ability; and the _Bulletin_, edited by Mr. Clarence L. Stanton, a son of Judge R. H. Stanton, and a gallant officer in the Confederate Navy during the Civil War. All these gentlemen were present at the lecture, and the distinguished traveler was introduced to the audience by Colonel Thomas M. Green. The lecture was followed by an entertainment at the Limestone Club, which was pleasantly noticed by Captain Stanton in his paper of the following day. The Committee of Reception and Entertainment was composed of Major Thomas H. Mannen, Judge Garrett S. Wall, Colonel Francis P. Owens, and Doctor Thomas E. Pickett (the President of the Club).

II

In the early autumn of 1889, the writer of this paper had the good fortune to be present at the Newcastle meeting of the British Association. Newcastle-upon-Tyne, standing at the very gateway of Scotland and looking out from the Tyne upon the great North Sea, is a famous old city in English history, that lay directly in the path of conquest and migration and was literally cradled in war, alternately rocked by Scandinavian or Dane, Saxon or Norman, Englishman or Scot. To-day it is big, prosperous, and progressive; even in the midst of peace perpetually sounding the note of preparation for war. True to its oldest and best traditions it is staunchly loyal to the Crown, proudly proclaiming its fealty on every coast, from the mouths of mighty guns cast in its own Cyclopean shops. From the days of the Scandinavian sea-rover through centuries of ruthless conflict she has stood out stoutly against the enemies of England, just as to-day her long sea-front of solid wall resists the encroachments of the Northern sea.

Here the shipbuilder is ceaselessly busy, constructing in his immense yards the great modern ship with its heart of fire and frame of steel. In any large yards the whole scheme of construction in all its branches may be seen at a glance, from the laying of the keel to the launching of the ship. The best work in modern engineering can be seen on the Tyne; and this is not surprising when we remember that upon the banks of this river the Locomotive was born, giving to this aggressive contemporary people a command of the earth as complete as their immemorial mastery of the sea. So enormous is the demand for fuel in the shipyards of the North-east Coast that it will take but a few centuries of work in these busy shops to exhaust the supply. The old proverb has lost its point. The most careless or unobservant tourist may see the steam-drawn trains "carrying their coals" to Newcastle, _now_, at all hours.

Nor does the Northern farmer sit with idle hands. All industries rest upon him. The farms are small, but the joint product is large. Thousands of farm laborers in Northumberland have each their "three acres and a cow." The Northern cattle-market in Newcastle would have filled the Highland caterans with delight. The weekly supply of cattle exceeds two thousand; the number of sheep is not less than twenty thousand. This was nearly twenty years ago. What must it be now? But even thus, how it speaks for the varied gifts and exhaustless vigor and vitality of this old Northumbrian race! Their rage for "river improvement" carries a lesson for men of their blood elsewhere. Between 1860 and 1889 the material dredged from the bed of the river Tyne amounted to more than _eighty millions_ of tons. "Now,"--it was said at the Newcastle meeting--"there are more vessels entering and leaving this port _than any other in the world_." Among the outgoing vessels at that time was a gallant Norwegian barque which bore the name of "Longfellow." A few years before--a score, perhaps--the writer had seen upon a famous track in Kentucky a racer of great note who bore the same illustrious name--almost a contemporaneous compliment from widely separate branches of the same race. But what more enduring than the singer's own verse?--

"Once as I told in glee Tales of the stormy sea."

A fit place of meeting--this old gateway of the North--for a select body of England's brilliant, busy, clear-headed and practical savants, and especially for that marvelously fruitful mid-century "section" which here first received supreme scientific recognition, having been organized at the Newcastle meeting by the British Association in 1863.

Though the youngest of the sections, its proceedings are singularly fascinating and the attendance always large. The meeting was held in the reading-room of the Free Library. Upon a long, low platform to the left of the entrance there sat facing the audience, a group, not of "scientists," but of really scientific men, their names as familiar to the English reading world as household words. The central figure of the group, Sir William Turner of Edinburgh, was the chairman of the section--a man of striking personality, who read a paper on Weismann and his theories which was listened to with closest attention, the novelty of the doctrines eliciting many expressions of doubt or dissent, though presented by the author of the paper with singular lucidity, fairness, and force. Sir William graced his position well, not merely by reason of intellectual gifts, but by virtue of a personal dignity which admirably comported with his commanding presence. He was a large, handsome man, with a robust frame, an erect carriage, and a notably aggressive air. Seated near him, and firmly supporting his somewhat heavy presence, were a number of men with world-renowned names--Francis Galton, famous for his studies in heredity and the publication of an epochal work; Sir Henry Acland, a learned anthropologist and medical scholar--a thinker of deep and varied scientific resource; Boyd Dawkins, the pioneer "Cave Hunter" and writer upon prehistoric archæology; John Evans, an able, learned, and industrious writer upon archæological themes; Doctor Bruce, the eminent historian of the Roman Wall; General Pitt Rivers, equally famous as soldier and savant, a quiet, dark-faced gentleman of easy, pleasant manners, dressed in the plainest fashion and judiciously expending an income of £30,000 a year. His large benefactions for scientific purposes made him truly a Prince of Science, gracious, munificent, and wise. The most striking and conspicuous figure in this solid English line was George Romanes, then in his prime and in apparently perfect health, tall, erect, dark-haired, with pale, handsome features and scholarly, high-bred air--a most impressive personification of intellectual pride and strength. As he sat in the midst of that animated group, cold, proud, silent but keenly observant, he vividly recalled the figure of the famous Kentuckian who once presided over the United States Senate, calmly noting the portents of impending war. In both, one easily discerned the same high qualities of intellect, resolution, and reserved force. By the side of the stately Romanes there sat the learned and vivacious Canon Isaac Taylor, slender, gray-haired, keen-eyed, alert, humorous, and full of tact--one of those clerical scholars and gentlemen who have done so much for English literature and have been a characteristic charm of English social life--men most admirably depicted by the novelist Bulwer in his better moods. Canon Taylor was the most animated figure in this noble English group. Near him sat two foreigners, each in curiously striking contrast with the other; one of these, a tall, ruddy, broad-shouldered blonde, with a strong, lithe, well-knit frame, an eager, alert expression, and a somewhat restless air, was the celebrated Scandinavian explorer Fridjof Nansen, then just twenty-six years of age, but already made world-famous by his recent explorations in the polar seas. At the left of the young Scandinavian, and presenting a remarkable contrast to that impressive figure, there sat a somewhat older man of small stature, of compact, vigorous frame, of clear, dark complexion, keen, clear, thoughtful eyes, and features typically French. The reader recognizes the description at once. It is our old friend, Du Chaillu, who has come to the northern coast of England, and standing in the very pathway of old Scandinavian invasions and confronting some of England's best thinkers upon their own ground, has calmly looked out upon the "grim--troubled" sea of England's Saxon King and boldly proclaimed his theory of the direct Scandinavian origin of the English race.