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BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.
THY WILL BE DONE.
“ Have I forgotten,” said the chief ; “ my brave
old soldier? No!
And here's the hand I gave you then, and let it We see not, know not; all our way
tell you so; Is night: with Thee alone is day.
But you have done your share, my friend; From out the torrent's troubled drift,
you're crippled, old, and gray, Above the storm our prayer we lift,
And we have need of younger arms and fresher
blood to-day.” Thy will be done!
“But, general,” cried the veteran, a flush upon The flesh may fail, the heart may faint,
his brow, But who are we to make complaint, « The very men who fought with us, they say, Or dare to plead in times like these
are traitors now; The weakness of our love of ease ?
They've torn the flag of Lundy's Lane-our old Thy will be done!
red, white, and blue;
And while a drop of blood is left, I'll show that We take with solemn thankfulness
drop is true. Our burden up, nor ask it less, And count it joy that even we
" I'm not so weak but I can strike, and I've a May suffer, serve, or wait for thee,
good old gun Whose will be done!
To get the range of traitors' hearts, and pick
them one by one ; Though dim as yet in tint and line, Your Miniè rifles, and such arms, it aint worth We trace thy picture's wise design,
while to try; And thank thee that our age supplies I couldn't get the hang of them, but I'll keep The dark relief of sacrifice.
my powder dry.” Thy will be done!
“God bless you, comrade," said the chief; And if, in our unworthiness,
“ God bless your loyal heart; Thy sacrificial wine we press,
But younger men are in the field, and claim to If from thy ordeal's heated bars
have their part; Our feet are seamed with crimson scars,
They'll plant our sacred banner in each rebel
lious town, Thy will be done!
And woe, henceforth, to any hand that dares to
pull it down !” If, for the age to come, this hour of trial hath vicarious power,
' But, general,” still persisting, the weeping And, blest by thee, our present pain
veteran cried, Be Liberty's eternal gain,
“I'm young enough to follow, so long as you're Thy will be done!
And some, you know, must bite the dust, and Strike, thou, the Master, we thy keys,
that, at least, can I; The anthem of the destinies !
So give the young ones place to fight, but me a The minor of thy loftier strain
place to die. Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain, “If they should fire on Pickens, let the colonel Thy will be done !
nnon-smoke, or how the
shells may fly; SCOTT AND THE VETERAN.
I'll hold the Stars and Stripes aloft, and hold
them till I die! BY BAYARD TAYLOR.
“I'm ready, general, so you let a post to me be An old and crippled veteran to the War De
given, partment came,
Where Washington can see me as he looks from He sought the Chicf who led him on many a highest heaven, field of fame
And say to Putnam at his side, or, may be, GenThe chief who shouted “Forward !” where'er
eral Wayne, his banner roso,
• There stands old Billy Johnson, that fought at And bore his stars in triumph behind the flying
Lundy's Lane !! foes.
“And when the fight is hottest, before the trai“Have you forgotten, general,” the battered tors fly, soldier cried,
When shell and ball are screeching and bursting “ The days of eighteen hundred twelve, when I in the sky, was at your side?
If any shot should hit me, and lay me on my Have yon forgotten Johnson that fought at
face, Lundy's Lane?
My soul would go to Washington, and not to 'Tis true I'm old and pensioned, but I want to Arnold's place ! " fight again."
No. 908.—26 October, 1861.
1. Madame de Krudener-Worldly, Pious, Mystic, Bentley's Miscellany, 2. Homeopathy, by Sir Benj. Brodie,
Fraser's Magazine, 3. Captain John Brown,
Saturday Review, 4. Gone. By A. K. H. B.,
Fraser's Magazine, 5. Sir B. Bródie on Homeopathy,
London Review, 6. Size of Ships of War,
Examiner, 7. Bishop Wilkins' Prophetic Dreams,
All the Year Round, 8. How to Burn Powder,
London Review, 9. Discovery of a New Cod Depot, 10. The Painter and the Apparition,
All the Year Round, 11. Science and Passion,
Saturday Review, 12. England and the Southern States, .
Spectator, 13. English Law and Justice in India,
London Review, 14. The Golden Treasury,
PAGR. 147 157 161. 167 171 173 174 177 179 181 183 186 188 190
POETRY.–Vive la France, 146. Kentucky Now, 146. Napoleon to Nono, 146. Prayer for the Union, 166. Memory of Monboddo, 166.
SHORT ARTICLES.—No Pent-up Utica, 156. A New Stimulant, 160. Philosophia Ultima, 165. Extemporaneous Speaking, 170. _Ancient Cities of Phoenicia, 170. New Anæsthetic, 172. Daily Weather Maps, 172. Lucifer Matches, 180. Aich's Metal, 189. Jewish Marriages, 192.
NEW BOOKS. REBELLION RECORD.-G. P. Putnam, New York. This work goes on every week. Here we have a number containing handsome portraits of Gen. Dix ; dear Gen. Lyon; a good likeness of Gen. McClellan; Secretary Cameron, looking like Ahithophel or Burleigh; The President, solemn and firm; and the gallant young Governor of R. I., Gen. Sprague. Patriotically, we suppose, Alex. H. Stephens is done in wood; and so is P. G. T. Beauregard, late Major U.S.A.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LIT TELL, SON, & CO., BOSTON.
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BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
VIVE LA FRANCE.
OLIVE-CROWNED but yesterday, A sentiment offered at the Dinner to H.I.H. the
High among the stars she stood, Prince Napoleon, at the Revere House, Sept. 25, Deprecating, interceding! 1861.
Pointing down to those who lay
Women wailing, brothers bleeding! The land of sunshine and of song!
Last night while her children slept, Her name your hearts divine ;
From the land where Terror reigns, To her the banquet's vows belong
Ruthless train-bands swept upon her. Whose breasts have poured its wine; Then she woke, and groaned, and wept, Our trusty friend, our true ally
Seeing on her peaceful plains
The flag of treason and dishonor!
There among the stars she stands,
There despoiled she stands in sorrow! Above our hosts in triple folds
And the self-same shameless hands, The self-same colors spread,
That have torn her olive down, Where Valor's faithful arm upholds
Will try to tear her down to-morrow! The blue, the white, the red ;
-Louisville Jou nal. Alike each nation's glittering crest
Reflects the morning's glance,Twin eagles, soaring east and west; Once more then, Vive la France !
NAPOLEON TO NONO. Sister in trial! who shall count
ON THE EVE OF THE REMOVAL OF THE Thy generous friendship's claim,
FRENCH ARMY FROM ROME.
Holy Father, ere we part,
Take, oh, take my words to heart;
And if they disturb thy rest,
Think them uttered for the best.
Hear my counsel ere I
Shut up shop, Pio Nono ! O land of heroes! in our need
By thy saints, whose pictures wink One gift from heaven we crave
While thou art on destruction's brink : To stanch these wounds that vainly bleed : By thy priests, who in their sleeve The wise to lead the brave !
Deride thee, though they feign to grieve : Call back one captain of thy past
By thy “ friends” I bid thee go,
Shut up shop, Pio Nono!
By thy brigands unconfined,
By the hate their deeds have sown
For thee, and for thy rotten throne : Wake up stout Charles Martel,
By thy foes, I bid thee go,
Shut up shop, Pio Nono!
By thy want of common sense,
By thy lack of Peter's pence: Nay, call Marengo's chief again
By the cropper thou wilt come To lead us ! Vive la France !
When French support is ordered home,
Away thy temporal power throw: Ab hush! our weleome guest shall hear
Shut up shop, Pio Nono! But sounds of peace and joy;
Holy Father, when I'm gone, No angry echo vex thine ear,
Fly to England quick, alone : Fair Daughter of Savoy !
Hire a cosy lodging there, Once more! the land of arms and arts,
A three-pair back in Leicester Square : Of glory, grace, romance ;
There at thire case thy 'bacca blow, Her love lies warm in all our hearts;
And die in peace, Pio Nono ! God bless her! Vive la France !
From Bentley's Miscellany. herself away from the horrors of a weariMADAME DE KRUDENER.
ness that set upon her like a nightmare. WOMAN OF THE WORLD, AUTHOR, PIETIST, It may be imagined from this what influAND ILLUMINIST.
ence such conditions of existence had upon JULIA BARONESS OF VIETINGHOFF, was the youth of Mademoiselle de Vietinghoff, born in 1766, at Riga. Her father who at especially as from her earliest years she was one period had enjoyed a high place at court, of a highly imaginative, impressionable and had withdrawn from thence, and lived like somewhat fantastic nature. Those born and a feudal baron of old at his château in Cour- bred in the tumult of great cities never have land. It requires to have seen these castles of the same susceptibilities ; they are blunted, the nobility on the Baltic to understand what or they perish in the bud. A single incia sense of grandeur and of solitude might be dent of early life will serve to portray its imbibed by a child brought up in such a general tone and character. She had for place. Immense plains, only dotted here great-grandmother an elderly and august and there by some struggling colony of Ger- personage who monopolized all the respect mans, or by the miserable huts of the na- of the house, and who uttered nothing but tive peasants, stretch far away boyend the oracles. With regard to family matters she horizon around the seignorial residence, was an unquestioned authority; she had which is itself often of an imposing grandeur every event that had happened for the last and extravagant proportions. Already, in hundred years at her fingers' ends. Nor the time of Catherine and of Elizabeth, the was she much less intimately versed in the nobles began to build palaces in these arid history of her country, especially in so far as steppes, or amid the dark pine forests. her family was concerned in it. The best
The life of such a feudal lord was as curi- point about the old lady was, that with all ous within as its contrasts were great with her pride she doted upon her children, her out. In the time of the Empress Anne-grandchildren, and grandchildren's children. whose husband was himself Duke of Cour- Nevertheless, the day came when this land such barons had all the pride and in- grand old lady was to go, like her predesolence of petty tyrants; and they avoided cessors. She had already disposed of her the court of St. Petersburg, where, however worldly goods. Peter had this domain, Jean haughty they might be, they were forced to Casimir the other; the capital went to Burbend. It was in vain that Anne and Eliza- chard, and the plate and jewels to Lebrechtbeth summoned the young nobility to court. Antony; but she had not decided to which It was not till the Princess of Anhalt Zerbst of her four sons she should confide her mortook with her the love of the fine arts and tal remains. Jean Casimir had just erected of science, intellectual life and vigor, to the a new family mausoleum, and he claimed the court of the North, that the representatives honor of possessing his mother's body; but of the great families of Courland, of Es- Peter had also his family vault, and if Burthonia, and of Livonia, also found their way chard and Lebrecht-Antony had no mausolea, to St. Petersburg. But nothing could be they offered their own castles for a last home more monotonous than life at the castle. to their mother's relics. Tradition in these You might walk ten miles without meeting gloomy and superstitious regions will have a person with whom to exchange a word. it that the mother takes happiness with her, The major-domo might be a perfect example and where the bones lay would be the head of German civilization, the governess from and the support of the family. Paris or Geneva might represent either city The struggle for the possession of the in miniature; still their resources were soon body, ere the soul had departed from it, beexhausted. Winter would bring, with sledge came so oppressive, that in order that it and skating, parties on the great frozen lakes; might not be said that she died at Jean but a winter's evening in one of these feudal Casimir's because he had a new mausoleum solitudes of Courland was a terrible affair. erected, she had herself removed in a dying The châtelian would go to sleep over his state, and in midwinter, in a sledge, to the chess or his backgammon, and the châtelaine house of Peter, who received her in triumph; would pretend to have instructions to give but she had scarcely got into her bed than to her household, but in reality would tear Lebrecht-Antony, his wife, and daughter, managed so effectually as to get her carried sying; and to her father, who was deeply away by another sledge. But if Lebrecht imbued with the " philosophical ” doctrines had proved himself sharp, Burchard was no of the day, the manifestations of such pious less so, and he succeeded in ravishing the mysticism were as disagreeable as they were moribund old lady from his possession. unintelligible. When he would have enThus it was that in the depth of a Baltic gaged her in a discussion upon an article in winter, amid snow, ice, and wind, the fan- the Encyclopædia, she would seek the solitastic sledge that bore this half-animate body tudes of a cloister, and meditate there upon was dragged about dark forests and over the imaginary charms of monastic seclusion. boundless plains, by day and by night, un- But every thing has its time, and Baron able to find a resting-place.
de Vietinghoff had the satisfaction of seeing It can be easily imagined what an effect his daughter become one of the most frivo80 strange an event had upon a young and lous women of the world, and with so peculsusceptible person as Julia. Alluding to it iar a nature, she at once went to such exin after life, she said, “What a pity that I tremes as to terrify the more sedate as to her cannot, as this noble lady did for her race, future. She was the mere child of grace also give my heart to humanity, especially and fantasy, and yet so seductive in her wayto that portion of humanity that suffers ! wardness, that she seemed to have the gift Would to Heaven that the poor should thus of bewitching all whom she approached. dispute the possession of my remains among Her marriage with Baron de Krudener was, themselves, that each were to wish, as being however, less a matter of feeling than a conhis own, to bury me near his hut! What a cession made to her parent's wishes. Her happy rest it would be !"
husband could not understand her, and she The father of our heroine--Baron de Viet- did not love him ; hence the tie led only to inghoff-was, of all the feudal lords of his weariness and indifference. All she seemed epoch and of his country, the one who least to care for was movement. She went first appreciated the pleasures of that system of to Venice, where her husband filled the posilife. Given to study, and to literary and tion of Russian ambassador, thence she rescientific pursuits, he might have felt the iso- turned as quickly to Paris. But she seemed lation less than others, were it not that his to be devoured by an unconquerable restinstincts as a man of the world predominated, lessness. Her father scolded in vain. She and led him to seek for gratification in even declared her lover, the singer Garat, to the metropolis of Russian predilection - be without soul or intelligence. Nothing Paris. On the occasion of his first visit to seemed to satisfy her ; she seemed to seek that brilliant capital, his daughter was a mere for gratification only in contradiction and child ;
but on the occasion of the second, trouble. She could not live, love, sin, and she was
a grown-up girl. Among those repent like the rest of the world ; she would who frequented his house were D'Alembert, have sold herself to Satan, but only on the Buffon, Grimm, D'Holbach, and Marmontel. condition that the archangel would have Julia, young as she was, was distinguished made it worth her while. Paris abounded by these notabilities, and her father was at that epoch in women anxious to obtain justly proud of her. Soon, however, her notoriety, no matter at what expense, but peculiar and strange instincts began to re- few went to such extremes as did Madame veal themselves, and gave much anxiety to de Krudener. Her greatest annoyance was her parent. She became discontented and that joy and grief, love and hatred, glory melancholy, wished to return to the soli- and humiliation, should be allotted to her tudes of the North, had dreams and visions, only in common with others. One evening at first at intervals, and then so frequently she was told that Madame de Genlis was the that her father tried what change of scene first person who had attained. perfection on would do, and took her to Germany, to the harp in Paris, and that it had given her Switzerland, and to the south of France. much celebrity. “It appears to me," she But the peculiar idiosyncrasy of her charac- observed, “ that it is sufficient to make one's ter remained unchanged ; she would set upon self ridiculous in France to become celea rock, or wander alone at undue hours in brated. As to that, I also will learn the some romantic solitude, weeping or prophe- , harp.” She did not learn the harp, but she