Life Without and Life Within Part 17

For ourselves, the months have brought much, though, perhaps, superficial instruction. Its scope has been chiefly love and hope for all human beings, and among others for thyself.

We have seen many fair poesies of human life, in which, however, the tragic thread has not been wanting. We have beheld the exquisite developments of childhood, and sunned the heart in its smiles. But also have we discerned the evil star looming up that threatened cloud and wreck to its future years. We have seen beings of some precious gifts lost irrecoverably, as regards this present life, from inheritance of a bad organization and unfortunate circ.u.mstances of early years. The victims of vice we have observed lying in the gutter, companied by vermin, trampled upon by sensuality and ignorance, and saw those who wished not to rise, and those who strove so to do, but fell back through weakness. Sadder and more ominous still, we have seen the good man--in many impulses and acts of most pure, most liberal, and undoubted goodness--yet have we noted a spot of base indulgence, a fibre of brutality canker in a vital part this fine plant, and, while we could not withdraw love and esteem for the good we could not doubt, have wept secretly in the heart for the ill we could not deny. We have observed two deaths; one of the sinner, early cut down; one of the just, full of years and honor--_both_ were calm; both professed their reliance on the wisdom of a heavenly Father. We have looked upon the beauteous shows of nature in undisturbed succession, holy moonlight on the snows, loving moonlight on the summer fields, the stars which disappoint never and bless ever, the flowing waters which soothe and stimulate, a garden of roses calling for queens among women, poets and heroes among men. We have marked a desire to answer to this call, and genius brought rich wine, but spilt it on the way, from her careless, fickle gait; and virtue tainted with a touch of the peac.o.c.k; and philosophy, never enjoying, always seeking, had got together all the materials for the crowning experiment, but there was no love to kindle the fire under the furnace, and the precious secret is not precipitated yet, for the pot will not boil to make the gold through your

"Double, double, Toil and trouble,"

if love do not fan the fire.

We have seen the decay of friendships unable to endure the light of an ideal hope--have seen, too, their resurrection in a faith and hope beyond the tomb, where the form lies we once so fondly cherished. It is not dead, but sleepeth; and we watch, but must weep, too, sometimes, for the night is cold and lonely in the place of tombs.

Nature has appeared dressed in her veil of snowy flowers for the bridal.

We have seen her brooding over her joys, a young mother in the pride and fulness of beauty, and then bearing her offspring to their richly ornamented sepulchre, and lately observed her as if kneeling with folded hands in the stillness of prayer, while the bare trees and frozen streams bore witness to her patience.

O, much, much have we seen, and a little learned. Such is the record of the private mind; and yet, as the bright snake-skin is cast, many sigh and cry,--

"The wiser mind Mourns less for what Time takes away Than what he leaves behind."

But for ourselves, we find there is kernel in the nut, though its ripening be deferred till the late frosty weather, and it prove a hard nut to crack even then. Looking at the individual, we see a degree of growth, or the promise of such. In the child there is a force which will outlast the wreck, and reach at last the promised sh.o.r.e. The good man, once roused from his moral lethargy, shall make atonement for his fault, and endure a penance that will deepen and purify his whole nature. The poor lost ones claim a new trial in a new life, and will there, we trust, seize firmer hold on the good for the experience they have had of the bad.

"We never see the stars Till we can see nought else."

The seeming losses are, in truth, but as pruning of the vine to make the grapes swell more richly.

But how is it with those larger individuals, the nations, and that congress of such, the world? We must take a broad and superficial view of these, as we have of private life; and in neither case can more be done. The secrets of the confessional, or rather of the shrine, do not come on paper, unless in poetic form.

So we will not try to search and mine, but only to look over the world from an ideal point of view.

Here we find the same phenomena repeated; the good nation is yet somehow so sick at heart that you are not sure its goodness will ever produce a harmony of life; over the young nation, (our own,) rich in energy and full of glee, brood terrible omens; others, as Poland and Italy, seem irrecoverably lost. They may revive, but we feel as if it must be under new forms.

Forms come and go, but principles are developed and displayed more and more. The caldron simmers, and so great is the fire that we expect it soon to boil over, and new fates appear for Europe.

Spain is dying by inches; England shows symptoms of having pa.s.sed her meridian; Austria has taken opium, but she must awake ere long; France is in an uneasy dream--she knows she has been very sick, has had terrible remedies administered, and ought to be getting thoroughly well, which she is not. Louis Philippe watches by her pillow, doses and bleeds her, so that she cannot fairly try her strength, and find whether something or nothing has been done. But Louis Philippe and Metternich must soon, in the course of nature, leave this scene; and then there will be none to keep out air and light from the chamber, and the patients will be roused and ascertain their true condition.

No power is in the ascending course except the Russian; and that has such a condensation of brute force, animated by despotic will, that it seems sometimes as if it might by and by stride over Europe and face us across the water. Then would be opposed to one another the two extremes of Autocracy and Democracy, and a trial of strength would ensue between the two principles more grand and full than any ever seen on this planet, and of which the result must be to bind mankind by one chain of convictions. Should, indeed, Despotism and Democracy meet as the two slaveholding powers of the world, the result can hardly be predicted.

But there is room in the intervening age for many changes, and the czars profess to wish to free their serfs, as our planters do to free their slaves, and we suppose with equal sincerity; but the need of sometimes professing such desires is a deference to the progress of principles which bid fair to have their era yet.

We hope such an era steadfastly, notwithstanding the deeds of darkness that have made this year forever memorable in our annals. Our nation has indeed shown that the l.u.s.t of gain is at present her ruling pa.s.sion. She is not only resolute, but shameless, about it, and has no doubt or scruple as to laying aside the glorious office, a.s.signed her by fate, of herald of freedom, light, and peace to the civilized world.

Yet we must not despair. Even so the Jewish king, crowned with all gifts that Heaven could bestow, was intoxicated by their plenitude, and went astray after the most worthless idols. But he was not permitted to forfeit finally the position designed for him: he was drawn or dragged back to it; and so shall it be with this nation. There are trials in store which shall amend us.

We must believe that the pure blood shown in the time of our revolution still glows in the heart; but the body of our nation is full of foreign elements. A large proportion of our citizens, or their parents, came here for worldly advantage, and have never raised their minds to any idea of destiny or duty. More money--more land! are all the watchwords they know. They have received the inheritance earned by the fathers of the revolution, without their wisdom and virtue to use it. But this cannot last. The vision of those prophetic souls must be realized, else the nation could not exist; every body must at least "have soul enough to save the expense of salt," or it cannot be preserved alive.

What a year it has been with us! Texas annexed, and more annexations in store; slavery perpetuated, as the most striking new feature of these movements. Such are the fruits of American love of liberty! Mormons murdered and driven out, as an expression of American freedom of conscience; Ca.s.sius Clay's paper expelled from Kentucky; that is American freedom of the press. And all these deeds defended on the true Russian grounds, "We (the stronger) know what you (the weaker) ought to do and be, and it _shall_ be so."

Thus the principles which it was supposed, some ten years back, had begun to regenerate the world, are left without a trophy for this past year, except in the spread of Ronge's movement in Germany, and that of a.s.sociative and communist principles both here and in Europe, which, let the worldling deem as he will about their practicability, he cannot deny to be animated by faith in G.o.d and a desire for the good of man. We must add to these the important symptoms of the spread of peace principles.

Meanwhile, if the more valuable springs of action seem to lie dormant for a time, there is a constant invention and perfection of the means of action and communication which seems to say, "Do but wait patiently; there is something of universal importance to be done by and by, and all is preparing for it to be universally known and used at once." Else what avail magnetic telegraphs, steamers, and rail-cars traversing every rood of land and ocean, phonography and the mingling of all literatures, till North embraces South and Denmark lays her head upon the lap of Italy?

Surely there would not be all this pomp of preparation as to the means of communion, unless there were like to be something worthy to be communicated.

Amid the signs of the breaking down of barriers, we may mention the Emperor Nicholas letting his daughter pa.s.s from the Greek to the Roman church, for the sake of marrying her to the Austrian prince. Again, similarity between him and us: he, too, is shameless; for while he signs this marriage contract with one hand, he holds the knout in the other to drive the Roman Catholic Poles into the Greek church. But it is a fatal sign for his empire. 'Tis but the first step that costs, and the Russians may look back to the marriage of the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Olga, as the Chinese will to the cannonading of the English, as the first sign of dissolution in the present form of national life.

A similar token is given by the violation of etiquette of which Mr. Polk is accused in his message. He, at the head of a government, speaks of governments and their doings straightforward, as he would of persons, and the tower, stronghold of the idea of a former age, now propped up by etiquettes and civilities only, trembles to its foundation.

Another sign of the times is the general panic which the decay of the potato causes. We believe this is not without a providential meaning, and will call attention still more to the wants of the people at large.

New and more provident regulations must be brought out, that they may not again be left with only a potato between them and starvation. By another of these whimsical coincidences between the histories of Aristocracy and Democracy, the supply of _truffles_ is also failing.

The land is losing the "nice things" that the queen (truly a young queen) thought might be eaten in place of bread. Does not this indicate a period in which it will be felt that there must be provision for all--the rich shall not have their truffles if the poor are driven to eat nettles, as the French and Irish have in bygone ages?

The poem of which we here give a prose translation lately appeared in Germany. It is written by Moritz Hartmann, and contains the _gist_ of the matter.

MISTRESS POTATO.

There was a great stately house full of people, who have been running in and out of its lofty gates ever since the gray times of Olympus. There they wept, laughed, shouted, mourned, and, like day and night, came the usual changes of joys with plagues and sorrows. Haunting that great house up and down, making, baking, and roasting, covering and waiting on the table, has there lived a vast number of years a loyal serving maid of the olden time--her name was Mrs. Potato. She was a still, little, old mother, who wore no bawbles or laces, but always had to be satisfied with her plain, every-day clothes; and unheeded, unhonored, oftentimes jeered at and forgotten, she served all day at the kitchen fire, and slept at night in the worst room. When she brought the dishes to table she got rarely a thankful glance; only at times some very poor man would in secret shake kindly her hand.

Generation after generation pa.s.sed by, as the trees blossom, bear fruit, and wither; but faithful remained the old housemaid, always the servant of the last heir.

But one morning--hear what happened. All the people came to table, and lo! there was nothing to eat, for our good old Mistress Potato had not been able to rise from her bed. She felt sharp pains creeping through her poor old bones. No wonder she was worn out at last! She had not in all her life dared take a day's rest, lest so the poor should starve.

Indeed, it is wonderful that her good will should have kept her up so long. She must have had a great const.i.tution to begin with.

The guests had to go away without breakfast. They were a little troubled, but hoped to make up for it at dinner time. But dinner time came, and the table was empty; and then, indeed, they began to inquire about the welfare of Cookmaid Potato. And up into her dark chamber, where she lay on her poor bed, came great and little, young and old, to ask after the good creature. "What can be done for her?" "Bring warm clothes, medicine, a better bed." "Lay aside your work to help her." "If she dies we shall never again be able to fill the table;" and now, indeed, they sang her praises.

O, what a fuss about the sick bed in that moist and mouldy chamber! and out doors it was just the same--priests with their ma.s.ses, processions, and prayers, and all the world ready to walk to penance, if Mistress Potato could but be saved. And the doctors in their wigs, and counsellors in masks of gravity, sat there to devise some remedy to avert this terrible ill.

As when a most ill.u.s.trious dame is recovering from birth of a son, so now bulletins inform the world of the health of Mistress Potato, and, not content with what they thus learn, couriers and lackeys besiege the door; nay, the king's coach is stopping there. Yes! yes! the humble poor maid, 'tis about her they are all so frightened! Who would ever have believed it in days when the table was nicely covered?

The gentlemen of pens and books, priests, kings, lords, and ministers, all have senses to scent our famine. Natheless Mistress Potato gets no better. May G.o.d help her for the sake, not of such people, but of the poor. For the great it is a token they should note, that all must crumble and fall to ruin, if they will work and weary to death the poor maid who cooks in the kitchen.

She lived for you in the dirt and ashes, provided daily for poor and rich; you ought to humble yourselves for her sake. Ah, could we hope that you would take a hint, and _next time_ pay some heed to the housemaid before she is worn and wearied to death!

So sighs, rather than hopes, Moritz Hartmann. The wise ministers of England, indeed, seem much more composed than he supposes them. They are like the old man who, when he saw the avalanche coming down upon his village, said, "It is coming, but I shall have time to fill my pipe once more." _He_ went in to do so, and was buried beneath the ruins. But Sir Robert Peel, who is so deliberate, has, doubtless, manna in store for those who have lost their customary food.

Another sign of the times is, that there are left on the earth none of the last dynasty of geniuses, rich in so many imperial heads. The world is full of talent, but it flows downward to water the plain. There are no towering heights, no Mont Blancs now. We cannot recall one great genius at this day living. The time of prophets is over, and the era they prophesied must be at hand; in its couduct a larger proportion of the human race shall take part than ever before. As prime ministers have succeeded kings in the substantiate of monarchy, so now shall a house of representatives succeed prime ministers.

Altogether, it looks as if a great time was coming, and that time one of democracy. Our country will play a ruling part. Her eagle will lead the van; but whether to soar upward to the sun or to stoop for helpless prey, who now dares promise? At present she has scarce achieved a Roman n.o.bleness, a Roman liberty; and whether her eagle is less like the vulture, and more like the Phoeix, than was the fierce Roman bird, we dare not say. May the new year give hopes of the latter, even if the bird need first to be purified by fire.

_Jan. 1, 1846._

NEW YEAR'S DAY.

It was a beautiful custom among some of the Indian tribes, once a year, to extinguish all the fires, and, by a day of fasting and profound devotion, to propitiate the Great Spirit for the coming year. They then produced sparks by friction, and lighted up afresh the altar and the hearth with the new fire.

And this fire was considered as the most precious and sacred gift from one person to another, binding them in bonds of inviolate friendship for that year, certainly; with a hope that the same might endure through life. From the young to the old, it was a token of the highest respect; from the old to the young, of a great expectation.