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mon on Mars-hill. How is it to stand with the modern doctrine of diversity? We would especially ask the question of those evangelical theologians who, if they do not subscribe to the dogma, yet see no great harm in it, and who prudently advise the Church to have no opinion on this unimportant matter until it gets further light from science.
The absolute equality of each man, as man, comes directly from the idea of a common origin, and can be truly traced to no other source. One man is equal to another, not equally wise, equally good, equally strong, but equally a man; and this not on the ground of more or less resemblance in bodily or mental qualities, but because of a generic or genealogical fact. Each man is equal to every other man, because there was a period in time and space where the life which is now individually two or more was generically, and not only generically but actually one. This absolute equality of man, as man, is unaffected by that inequality of condition which grows out of the political relations. Without discussing here the right or wrong of this, it is enough for our argument, that it is essentially distinct from the other inequality which is supposed to have its ground in the very blood or nature. There may be monarch and subjects, rulers and ruled. These may be determined by institutes of longer or shorter, of more permanent or flexible duration. The distinctions they create may be hereditary or elective—for generations, for lives, or for years, according as the organic good may seem to require. They are the result of our dual existence —of the fact that we all live two lives, and are intended by God to live two lives, the individual and the social, and that the true and healthful organization of the latter necessitates diversities of condition. These may be master and servant, even SeOTtorTIc and dovTioc—we use the terms in their old political senses—and yet generic equality. One man may have power over another man more or less stringent, conferred by laws more or less just, and yet the two stand in the relation of brethren, and consistently and feelingly call each other brethren. This is the real Scripture test. Whatever relation allows the fraternal word and sentiment to stand unimpaired in their true generic force, that the Bible assails not, notwithstanding any outward diversities of condition or claim of magisterial authority; whatever theory, whether physical or political, would weaken and destroy them, that is unholy, inhuman, unchristian. The simple idea is worth more, and will do more to elevate mankind, than all the Magna Chartas, and Bills of Right, and Missouri Compromises that have ever been contrived as barriers to human oppression. Each member of the human fc)dy is equally flesh, and equal flesh, and all make one flesh, although the hands, the eyes, the feet, perform different offices, apparently and outwardly of different degrees of rank, yet all equally honorable, because all equally interdependent, when viewed in their catholic or organic relations. It is in fact this absolute equality which renders the organic relation possible. The latter could not exist between parts generically distinct. Animals of the highest class, or any species that arc not truly men, could no more belong to the constitution of the body politic than the rod in the hand, or the shoes beneath the feet, could be true members of the fleshly human organization.
Man, then, we say, may have dominion over man; he may even have a political lordship over him. There is nothing degrading or dehumanizing in this,
if the organic good of society require it; since it may possibly be the case that in this way, even the most subordinate parts may be raised to a higher absolute elevation than they could have ever attained in a state of relative equality with its possible consequences of savage anarchy and animal barbarism. Thus, then, would stand our argument; its application we would leave to the reader. Political and social inequalities, political and social relations of every kind, rest solely oh their expediencies, to be determined, not by abstract reasoning, but by a careful induction of facts. Whatever, on the other hand, denies, or is inconsistent with the true and proper humanity of any part of the one family of mankind, or, in other words, the great fact of brotherhood, that we bring to the bar of the universal human sentiment, and to the central truth of the divine Word. It is inhuman, antibiblical, antichristian—condemned of God, and to be abhorred by all who believe that man was created in His image.
Brother may have dominion over brother, even lordly or despotic dominion, and rightly exercise it. Philemon and Onesimus were master and servant, yet true brethren, both in nature and " in the Lord." The stringent social and domestic relation is as distinctly recognized by the Apostle as the natural and spiritual kinsmanship. But the assertion of title on the other ground is an indignity to the common honor of the race. We feel it as we would degradation of kin or family dishonor. Is the Negro a man? the dignity of the lord as well as of the vassal demands the clear recognition of such humanity. We have no scruple about his political bondage. Its expediency, its righteousness, its humanity, are all to be determined by circumstances apart from the question of race. But the other claim we would resent as a personal insult. Even the African, far-off cousin though he be, is a relative for whom we have some regard. He is of our blood, our kin, our kind; for the words are of the same stock. We trace them up into the oldest roots of the Saxon. We find them again in the Greek ytv, the Sanscritjan. We only lose sight of them where all history disappears—in the primitive state, and in that primitive language which was the vernacular when the whole human family obeyed one living ancestor, dwelt in the same palm grove, and perhaps slept beneath the covert of the same tent. The genealogy is yet preserved in the old Family Bible; and" that science and that political philosophy are the greatest enemies of the highest human good that would seek to obliterate or in any way impair the credit of the record.
Paul's declaration to the Athenians was only an inspired interpretation of elder Scripture. It was holding up before the Greek that authentic genealogical roll which had so long been familiar to the Jew, while he cites, by way of illustrat ion, the ancient poets of the nation in opposition to their extravagant claim of generic distinction and superiority. Nothing can be more idle than the attempt to make the term "blood," as thus employed, mean simply a resemblance in certain qualities. The interpretation is only worthy of such a philologist and biblical scholar as Mr. Nott. It is just what we would expect from a critic who denies that the authors of King James's translation of the Bible had any knowledge of Hebrew, and who furnishes such evidence of his own hermeneutical skill in his profound remarks about Samson's foxes. The use of "blood" for "kin" is common to all tongues. Whether the belief on which it seems to be grounded be true or not, there can be no mistake in respect to the idea. The blood, if not the life, is representative of the life. It denotes the ever-flowing river of human vitality, the stream of generation, however widely parted its numerous branches—the essential unity of being, however multifold its individual manifestations. It expresses the fact, and carries up the mind to a real point of unity, where all this diverging diversity was once one, actually one, numerically as well as ideally. Thus brothers are of one blood because they have the same father. Cousins are consanguinei, or of one blood, because they have the same grandfather. Recognized kindred are of the same blood, because their lines meet in a common proavus, or ancestor. Any two human beings—even the Anglo-Saxon and the Negro—are of kin, or possessed of a common life, on the ground that there was a time, an exact time of measurable though unknown degrees, when their individual streams parted from one parent fountain, and it could be said of them, in the clear language of the Latin poet—
"Sic genus amborum scindit se sanguine ab uno."
And this is the only true idea of a nature or species. It is not resemblance in appearance or in working, in cause or in effect. It is not likeness of process merely, be it ever so constant and ever so uniform. It is causativeof resemblance and classification, not constituted by them. Nature is birth, a scries of births. It is a being born, as its name (natura) implies, and an ever being about to be born of one thing from another. It is the unfolding of a life, of a germ, whose beginning must be out of itself, or supernatural, and this beginning, from the very idea, and the law of the idea, must be one. Here is the point at which our scientific naturalists so greatly stumble. It is their error here which makes them so incapable, many of them, of rightly appreciating the moral and theological positions that are connected with this higher idea. We might suppose Deity to have created beings in the form of men, and with such a degree of resemblance, material and spiritual, that no examination could detect the least appreciable difference in the length of a hair, the strength of a feeling, or the significance of a thought. Still, if they had never had with each other any connection of life, they could not be said to be of one nature, of one race, of one blood. For nature is a fact, it is community of vitality; and there must, therefore, be as many natures as there are distinct beginnings.
Neither would any contiguities of habitation at all alter the case in respect to beings thus originating. They would be as alien as the dwellers on separate planets. No remoteness in space or time could make them less of kin, less of the same nature, than the simple fact that there was not, and never had been, between them any community of life. There might indeed be said to be a connection, but only through God, the universal, uncreated centre of unity, and by whom they would be alike connected with all things else in the spiritual and material universe.
Whatever may be thought of it theoretically, we are satisfied that, practically and morally—and this is at present the aspect of the question on which we are mainly insisting—we can not overestimate the value of this idea of blood or kinsmanship. We have reference now, not only to the universal consanguinity of the race, but more especially to those nearer affinities to which we chiefly give the name of kindred, because we can trace chronologically and genealogically the originating unity from which it flows. It is the chief fault of this age of moral
and political generalizations, that we do not think enough and make enough of blood or kinsmanship. It is not too much to say that some of the strongest supports of human virt ue are failing in consequence of it. And yet, if we may judge from the abundant genealogies of the Scriptures, no human feeling was held in greater honor. Next to the Sacra Dei, were ever the saneti patres, and the brethren according to the flesh. But that is the Old Testament, it may be said; Christian love is grounded solely on tho class or moral relation. We would not rashly meddle here with themes so sacred; it may be permitted, however, to say that the question, Is it not something more than this? is the great problem for Out modern theology, the great question of a standing or falling Church. But to come down to our more natural and human sphere, we repeat it, we do not think enough of blood either as respects the whole human family, or even the narrower circles within which its currents can be more distinctly traced. Indeed we may say that the strength and purity of the former feeling will depend much on the degree in which we cherish the latter. Our philanthropy, our zeal for political and social rights, can never get above our love for kin without proving its own spuriousness. We suspect that cosmopolitanism which ignores the family, the neighborhood, the circle of known consanguinities, in its enthusiasm for the good of being in general. We have here again the sure testimony of the Scriptures, and that too as given by the "loving Apostle"—"He that Ioveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?" By parity of reasoning—he that loveth not his brother who is near him in the flesh, how can he truly love his brother who is far removed from the common fountain of life?
Ours is an age, and especially ours is a country, in which the mind should be especially recalled to these laws of nature and of nature's God. It is an age of rambling, of emigration, of the continual breaking up of family and kindred ties. The feeling and idea of home is getting to be almost lost. We need to be reminded of the mine of virtue there is in these genealogical remembrances, in the cherished thought of "the dear kindred blood," as Daniel Webster has so feelingly expressed it. It would do our national character no harm if we had more of this best and purest kind of " nativism"— if the feeling extended habitually to third, fourth, even fifth cousins, or those still remoter ties of traceable blood which we ridicule some of the older and more stable nations for so assiduously cherishing. We want no acquaintance with the man whose soul does not warm to one in whose veins he knows there runs the same stream of kindred life which not long since parted from his own, or who fails to recognize him as a kinsman whether in low or high station, in poverty, in rags, and even in ignominy.
At first view, one would very naturally think that by no class would the Nott and Agassiz doctrine have been more unequivocally condemned than by those who have declaimed the loudest about human rights, and whose motto has been, or ought to have been—" Am I not a man and a brother?" Some of this school have heartily denounced the book, and we give them all honor for consistency and sincerity. Others have obviously hesitated. The question has puzzled them by presenting two aspects. There is the dehumanizing side, which certainly seems at war with their professed philanthropy. But there is, again, the antibiblical side, and the antibiblical interest, that is in unison with their railing at the Church and the distrust with which they have come to regard the Scriptures as not teaching philanthropy on their grounds, and after their manner. And hence their cautious treatment. They would not burn their fingers with too close handling. They would not commit themselves, yet evidently show a disposition to commend the infidel speculation if they dared. They would not endorse it, not they; yet still it is a great work, a very remarkable work; its positions should be carefully considered by all candid and truth-loving minds. its direct opposition to the Scriptures, however, is hardly thought worthy of a remark.
And yet the bearing of this upon the slavery question, and other questions of social and political reform, is too obvious to be ignored or denied. It will not do to trust too implicitly to what we call "natural right" until we know something more about nature than we can learn from nature herself. We may have to come back to the old Bible after all. If pressed for our title to property even in the animal races, it would be difficult to make it out unless we threw ou/selves upon the old grant of sovereignty so clearly set forth in the Scriptures. Admitting, however, for the sake of the argument, the existence of such natural title, it would be still more difficult to show why it would not include races once thought human, but at length discovered to be only steps in the scale between us (whoever we may be) and the long list of descending animalities. It would be impossible to show why a man, a real man, might not have property, and the same kind of property, in a Negro, or a Papuan, or one of the miserable Esquimaux, as well as in a sheep or a reindeer. The former might be possessed of somewhat higher faculties, it is true, but then they could be put to higher uses. The political authority might show them some kindness, as in the law against cruelty to animals, but it could not know them as subjects, or even as servants. They could not be tiovAoi, or olxirai, or uvipdnoda, all of which names, even the most servile, have some recognition of humanity, and the first two an implied political relation. They would not even be bondsmen. They would not be men at all.
We do not wish to meddle here with the direct or indirect bearings of these views upon the political question of servitude; but it may be mentioned, by the way, as a striking fact, that the chief opponent of this dehumanizing doctrine of diversity has been found in a Southern clergyman* —one who is a defender of the political relation of slavery as a matter of necessity under present circumstances, while he earnestly contends for the true human dignity, and human equality of the colored brother. To that noble band who have so long suffered between the cross-fires of unreasoning ultraists—to the clergymen and Christians of the South—would we appeal to sustain him in this defense of the universal brotherhood of men. It will be found in the end to be the true conservatism. The Christian defenders'of slavery as an existing institution would certainly not wish to place it on a ground that can only be held with the loss of a truth so precious—that can only be sustained at a sacrifice so dear as the denial of manhood to any part of the human race—and at the same time throwing an infidel suspicion, a painful doubt, over the whole question of humanity.
The confusion arising does not affect merely one or two varieties. It casts a cloud over the birth of
* The Rev, Dr. Smyth, of Charleston, S. C.
us all. There is no telling who is perfectly legitimate, who is the true homo, who has least of the beast in his origin and descent. The most modern authors of the diversity doctrine venture to speak, though very cautiously, of different creations. But this multiplication of the supernatural beyond the supernatural of the Bible is, to say the least, liable to suspicion when we consider the source from whence it comes. It is a sudden affectation of piety which there is some reason to distrust. Take away our sure hold on express revelation—take away this " light shining in a dark place," and the next most reliable and most rational theory is that of development. If we can not retain the simple, sublime, and most credible account of the Scriptures, we see no stopping place short of that furnished in the "Vestiges of Creation," much as it may serve the purposes of some naturalists at present to contemn that book. And who knows what nature may next develop? What science can give us any assurance about it? Of course, we think ourselves at the top of the scale, but lay aside revelation, reject what it teaches us of the origin and destiny of man, and what security is there that the descendants of Mr. Nott, and Mr. Agassiz, and of those who are for re-opening the slave trade, may not be among the Yahoos of a coming generation?
If such be now the use and tendency of the doetrine, while the old associations are yet strong, who can reckon its moral mischief when it shall have obtained full possession of the world—when then shall have been wholly lost the humanizing effect of the belief in a common fall and a common redemption—when, too, the feeling which the dogma would naturally generate is aided and driven on by that depraved love of domination and oppression which would then have no check either in nature or a trusted Bible? It is now, perhaps, the plaything of the sciolist; but it will be a far more serious matter, when the distinctions which now clothe themselves in scientific names shall have come down and mingled in the common speech— when instead of anthropoids we shall have half-men, when in place of the scientific semi-simii, caudati, the vulgar shall have their man-ape, or their manoutang, or their man-kangaroo, or the Laponian mannikin, or the man-faced Esquimaux, or the blubbereating resemblances of humanity that burrow in the earth and snows of the Arctic circle. And then, too, who that knows any thing of man (w« mean the highest race of man) can doubt that the widening distinction would go on, until one despotic tribe would come to regard itself as the only real homo, and in the maintenance of such a claim treat all the rest as the legitimate instruments of its pleasure or its profit? The Negro, the Papuan, the Hottentot, the Laplander—these surely are not men; but how long before the Anglo-Saxon pride would assume a similar attitude toward the Celt, and the idealizing Teuton dream himself into a generic superiority to the Sclave?
We have as yet had chiefly in view the moral bearings of the question. But what, it may be said, has all this to do with the argument? We arc told again, it is a pure question of science, and we answer as before—define the bounds of your science. Tell us where the natural, the scientifie, in your sense of the word, separates itself from the moral and the spiritual. Tell us on what grounds you claim the right to make the higher in all these great questions give way to the lower, and demand that moral certainties, and the consideration of undeniable moral consequences, shall yield to the probabilities, often the merest guesses, of a most limited physical empiricism? If your science has mounted »p beyond all history to the great question of origin, and settled beyond a peradventure the chronological fact of diversity, then, to be sure, there is no more to be said. If some of your scientific'theories be true, whether they land us in a universal developed and ever developing unity, or in a chaotic unrelated diversity, it may become a question, not simply whether this or that is consistent with a moral scheme, but whether your physies leaves any place for morality at all. Assuming, however, that there is such a thing, we argue from it, and this is the manner and outline of our reasoning. Our first position is, that setting aside revelation, the fact and manner of the human origin can never be certainly known from any induction. And so in every department. From its very nature, every such fact of origin transcends science, which must always assume a cause, or an appearance, before every change, and can never ascend to an absolute beginning. It may guess, it may balance inductions, it may classify appearances, but the certainty, the fact, of origin it can never reach. It can never be sure that there may not be ten thousand things in a present nature, and ten thousand times ten thousand things in the natures of all past ages, that are unknown to it, and which would modify, change, or wholly reverse all its caleulations in matters so remotely beyond its immediate ken. Such too is the conclusion to which some of the most scientific as well as the most philosophic minds have arrived. Says that profound naturalist Johannes Muller, in his Physiologic det Mentchen, "The different races of mankind are forms of one sole species by the union of two of whose members descendants are propagated; but whether the human races have descended from several primitive races of men, or from one alone, is a question that con not be determined from experience alone." If there was ever a matter for revelation this is one. It can not be determined from experience, that is from science, or any induction of phenomena. To the same effect Wilhelm von Humboldt in his work on the " Varieties of Languages." Ho argues most powerfully in favor of unity, but comes to the conclusion that "a solution of these difficult questions can never be determined by experience or inductive reasoning." Now these are greater authorities than Mr. Nott, even with all his wondrous biblical learning. They are the equals of Agassiz in science, but they were also something more. They were philosophers as well as scientific men ; and though not theologians, nor professing any superstitious regard for the Scriptures, but rather inclined, on the other hand, to pursue these questions on independent grounds, they had philosophy enough to make them treat with reverence those great ideas of revelation and theology that are so intimately connected with them, and to despise the trifling that would settle them by the measurement of a heel or a jaw-bone, or by the most skillful use of the microscope or the dissecting-knife.
Thus then stands the outline of the argument. Science can not settle the question. It can only givo us seeming probabilities, some for and some against. But there is another wide department of ideas that furnishes weapons of the same kind, though of a higher temper and a keener edge. Morals also has its probabilities, and these (supposing revelation to be silent, and omitting for the present the unanswerable argument from both its letter and its spirit) must come to our aid in determining the
fact of the divine action, and the probability of its taking this or that course. There is a physical probability in favor of the simpler and sublimer mode of one creation, one germ of life left to unfold itself in all humanity; but there is also something higher still. Are there some of the most precious moral truths intimately connected with this question? Is it so that we can not take them away without untuning the most valuable and most vital of the social harmonies! Then, if God had a scheme, a moral purpose, in the creation of man. the antecedent probability is all in favor of that unity of life and origin which is so conservative of the deeper moral affections. Then is it most probable, as the Apostle has proclaimed to us, that " He made of one blood all nations of men to dwell upon all the face of the earth."
This is the clear distinct etknology of the Bible. We should like to dwell further upon it, and the other topies, political, moral, and scientifie, that grow out of the inquiry; but it would carry our Editor's Tabic to inordinate limits.
iiitnr's Cnst| Clinir.
THE very legs of our Easy Chair creaked under the presence of the long drought. Whether it was sympathy with the trees, part of which they had once been, or commiseration for our unhappy selves, who sat dry, listless, and suffering in the general drying up of Nature, we do not yet know. If chairs could only speak! If some poet could give a voice to the moon, and tell what it has seen and heard! If all the inanimate surroundings of our little actions, at times when we are not in full dress for the observation of the world, could say not only what they saw but what they thought of what they saw —perhaps we should be severely criticised. It it a possibility which only those of a singular rectitude of life (like all old gentlemen in Easy Chairs) can contemplate with any complacency. How much a man's table knows about him! How many more things he puts in his bureau drawer than old gloves! Let some essayist give us the autobiography of a bureau drawer, and so do up his name in lavender forever. What a friend your chair is, especially if it be an easy one! Goetho used to pride himself that he had never sat in an easy chair. All the fourscore years and more of his brilliant and successful life he sat on hard seats. In Strasbourg he used to climb the dizzy tower of the cathedral so that he might conquer his giddiness. But the great Goethe was a solitary man. Thero is no trace in all his manifold writing of the friendly geniality of an Easy Chair. It is all hard, cool, precise, as if he had always been sitting and writing on a peculiarly hard and high wooden throne. There is no indication of the head thrown back, and the hand gently dropped in reverie as he wrote. How could a man pause and dream sitting upon a hard bench? How could he confide to it his doubts and despairs, his half hopes and dawning confidences? An Easy Chair enfolds him like a friend. It holds him in tender embrace. It begets that languor of mood which gives to his writing soft atmosphere and airy distance. Labor ceases to be work. He falls into his chair as into a dream. Thoughts and fancies come welling up and break like rainbow bubbles upon the surface of the paper. His Easy Chair is his friend. It takes his shape. His grandchildren say that it looks like grandpa, as we say of children's clothes, that they are full of their character and impress.
It was with sorrow, therefore, that we heard our legs creaking—meaning, of course, the legs of our Chair. Yet we wer» glad, for it showed their sympathy with Nature, as we felt it already with ourselves. The Millerites, who are not, perhaps, the wisest of philosophers nor the best of prophets, said that the drought was but the beginning of the end. It was a safe prophecy—only it was a dry beginning for a wet end. The good Hitlerites stepped up-stairs and took out their ascension-robes, that went off suddenly at such a discount some years since, and aired them, and surveyed them, and glanced out of window at dusty roads and parched fields with a savage satisfaction. Dust was about returning to dust. The Eastern War, the Bashi Bazouk business, the financial embarrassments, the desultory cholera—all these were signs of the fullness of time. The earth had grown too bad altogether, and this time with fire, as once before with water, was to be utterly purged.
"Beyond this vast range of mountains," said an elderly mole to an admiring and gaping group of moles junior, " lies the unfathomable chaos."
The young moles looked in awe and silence upon the vast range of mountains.
It was only a celery bed with an acre of cabbages beyond it.
And yet, without doubt, a war in the East, and * drought in the West, will have a serious effect upon our prosperity for the next twelvemonth. If the corn crop, as the wise men say, is only half as abundant as last year, that one premiss is enough for many grave conclusions. Money will be dearer, the wise men say; which means that you young men, who have so recently returned from the gay summer resorts which you have so handsomely ornamented, must dine more discreetly, and less often; and when you have resolved to send Aminta Jane a diamond necklace, you must content yourselves with a pearl bracelet. It will be hard, of course. It is so much pleasanter to deal with diamonds than with any stone less precious.
It means that Aminta Jane, who grieves so bitterly that she has been educated in a style of luxury which makes it impossible for her to marry any body but a Prince Royal, or any Dummy with a Prince Royal's fortune, must curtail her flounces and consider her gloves. There are limits to luxurious wardrobes, as she will learn from this long, long drought.
But if she only knew it, there is a worse drought than that which ruins the hopes of the farmer, and makes his grain fields ashes. As his acres have other crops than he reaps with sickle and scythe, so there are sadder droughts that desolate fairer fields. We heard of Aminta Jane at Saratoga, and during the final days of the expiring season there, we jumped down from our Chair and ran to see her. She is certainly very handsome. She has the fascination of a calm presence, and a glow of perpetual sunshine in her eyes. It is an autumn sun that shines in them, however; they are sweet, but clear and cold. There is a sumptuous air of self-satisfaction about Aminta Jane which is never unpleasant to see, because it is the natural aplomb which belongs to great and acknowledged beauty. Wherever she moves all eyes follow her. We remarked that it was not so much with homage as with curiosity. A poet, who did not know her, and whose seedy raiment entirely precluded all thought of his ever aspiring to be presented to her (while Thomas Noddy, with his exquisite boots, and the gentlemanly Mr. Glace, with his superb indifference of manner.
were in constant attendance upon her), might have seen her afar off and loved her distantly—in the way that Charles Lamb describes love for the " high-born Helen," the essence of which consisted in the perpetual distance and absence of the object. We saw how surrounded with admirers was the brilliant Aminta Jane—how she drove to the Lake with the choicest men in the reddest-wheeled wagons—how she promenaded, while the band played, with her own band of suitors playing around herself—how she glided swan-like into the dance, while we grave seniors who stood by and looked on entranced, were but the living shores of the sea of grace which her movement created, and which were so tenderly laved by its ripples.
Yet, somehow, we could not see her to be truly beautiful. The youth and charm which she had were sadly like a rouge which colored brightly for the moment, but would leave the cheek palid tomorrow. She had the appearance, but not the real soul of youth. When years fell upon her, and she no longer glided, swan-like, into the dance, we felt that there would not be youth in her heart, but age and bitter regret, and a wailing like a midnight wind in an autumn garden.
It was because the drought of feeling and faith had so early set in. The real flowers had faded in the hot air of false excitement, and there rose only painted counterfeits, tied on to the stalks, in their places. She preferred lace to love. It is a fearful thing to say of any woman, but when she told her dearest friend, who told it to all the rest of us at Saratoga, in order to remove from our hearts any skepticism of Aminta Jane's sorrow that she could not think of marrying the youth whom she loved, because they had both been too expensively educated, it did not seem fearful; it seemed only funny, and it was a great deal better thing to laugh at the whole matter, as we all did at Saratoga, over our cigar*. Aminta Jane's heart will naver ruin her happiness. A tiara of diamonds applied to her head will always cure any affection lower down.
Yet because she is a woman it was sad, as it is to see a luxuriant rose tree that bears no roses. When we first traveled upon the Continent and saw an imperial palace, it was so fair and fine that we could not restrain our impatience to behold the Emperor; for we said to ourselves, if the house is so fine what will the owner be 7 Presently there was a flourish of trumpets, and a brilliant parade of stately soldiers, with flashing helmets and nodding plumes, and magnificent bursts of martial musie, so that our excitement was wound to the highest pitch of expectation, and then—then came a small, shriveled idiot, idly staring and vacantly shambling along, and we all removed our hats, and bowed very low to his majesty the Emperor.
There had been a fearful drought of royalty. The heroism, the manliness, the soul of the thing had all died out; and when in the midst of the parched fields and the arid landscape of Saratoga we saw this superb Aminta Jane, and presently perceived how terribly she also had suffered from another kind of drought, then the landscape seemed in comparison to be lovely; and even in the spacious corridors of the "United States," while the band played and the summer sun shone, there came a returning vision of an imperial idiot issuing from a palace.
We returned to our Chair, which did not seem as easy after that visit, and determined to ask whether of all the beaux and belles who have been so thoroughly dusted in the doleful driving of this summer