To Brother Jonathan."Ho! brother, I'm a Britisher,A chip of heart of oak,That wouldn't warp or swerve or stirFrom what I thought or spoke;And you—a blunt and honest man,Straightforward, kind, and true,I tell you, brother Jonathan,That you're a Briton too!"
To Brother Jonathan.
"Ho! brother, I'm a Britisher,A chip of heart of oak,That wouldn't warp or swerve or stirFrom what I thought or spoke;And you—a blunt and honest man,Straightforward, kind, and true,I tell you, brother Jonathan,That you're a Briton too!"
I would copy more here, but as the whole ballad (equally with the two just following) is printed in my Miscellaneous Poems and still extant at Paternoster Square, I refer my reader thereto if he wants more of it. The next of note was one headed "Ye Thirty Noble Nations," and is remarkable for this strange fact, viz., that I composed about the half of those eighteen eight-line stanzas in a semi-slumber. I was as I thought asleep, but I got out of bed and pencilled the ballad (or most of it, for I added and amended afterwards) straight off, and went to bed again, of course to sleep profoundly; when I got up next morning and found the MS. on my table, it seemed like a dream, but it wasn't. Those who are curious may look out this piece of "quasiinspiration" in that poem-book aforesaid. But here is the opening verse for those who cannot get the volume in bulk:—
"Ye thirty noble NationsConfederate in one,That keep your starry stationsAround the Western sun,—I have a glorious mission,And must obey the call,A claim!—and a petition!To set before you all."
"Ye thirty noble NationsConfederate in one,That keep your starry stationsAround the Western sun,—I have a glorious mission,And must obey the call,A claim!—and a petition!To set before you all."
The claim being love for Mother Britain; the petition for freedom to the slave. It was published in 1851.
A third is chiefly noticeable for this. America had since my last address to her as "Thirty Nations" added three more States; and I was challenged to include them: which I did as thus; here are three of the Stanzas in proof:—
"Giant aggregate of Nations,Glorious Whole of glorious Parts,Unto endless generationsLive United, hands and hearts!Be it storm or summer weather,Peaceful calm, or battle jar,Stand in beauteous strength together,Sister States, as Now ye are!"Charmed with your commingled beautyEngland sends the signal round,'Every man must do his duty'To redeem from bonds the bound!Then indeed your banner's brightnessShining clear from every starShall proclaim your joint uprightness,Sister States, as Now ye are!"So a peerless constellationMay those stars together blaze!Three and ten-times threefold NationGo ahead in power and praise!Like the many-breasted goddessThroned on her Ephesian car,Be—one heart in many bodies,Sister States, as Now ye are!"
"Giant aggregate of Nations,Glorious Whole of glorious Parts,Unto endless generationsLive United, hands and hearts!Be it storm or summer weather,Peaceful calm, or battle jar,Stand in beauteous strength together,Sister States, as Now ye are!
"Charmed with your commingled beautyEngland sends the signal round,'Every man must do his duty'To redeem from bonds the bound!Then indeed your banner's brightnessShining clear from every starShall proclaim your joint uprightness,Sister States, as Now ye are!
"So a peerless constellationMay those stars together blaze!Three and ten-times threefold NationGo ahead in power and praise!Like the many-breasted goddessThroned on her Ephesian car,Be—one heart in many bodies,Sister States, as Now ye are!"
There are also several other like balladisms, and sundry sonnets, all of which I had from time to time to greet my American audiences withal. And thus before I paid my visits over there, the land was salted with ore and the water enriched with ground-bait, so that when the poetaster appeared he was welcomed by every class as a promoter of International Kindliness.
A vast volume is before me containing my first American journal, which I sent over piecemeal in letters and newspaper clippings to Albury, where my wife and daughters arranged them and kept them safely, till on my return after three months travel I pasted them duly into this big book. If I were to record a tithe of the myriad memorabilia there entered, the present volume now in progress would not afford space even for a tithe of that: and after all, the result would only appear as a record of numerous private hospitalities (which I object to making public), of sundry well-appreciated kindnesses, compliments, and tokens of honour from stranger friends in many cities, and the numerous incidents that a tourist visitor ordinarily experiences; most of which, although paragraphed in a gossiping fashion through hundreds of the 3000 American papers, are not worth recording here. In fact, I look at this enormous volume with despair,—the more so that there is its other equally bulky brother about my second visit,—and so intend to give only some samples of both. The world is too full of books, and does not call out for another American Journal. The main social interest of my two visits consisted in the contrast shown between the one in 1851 and that in 1876, just a quarter of a century after; between in factthe extreme drinking habits of one generation and the extreme temperance of another: mainly due, amongst other causes, to the overflowing prosperities of the middle of this century and the comparative adversities of its declining years. "Jeshurun once waxed fat, and kicked,"—but since then he has become one of the "lean kine:" wines and spirits were formerly in abundance as well as hard dollars, but have now been replaced by the cheaper water and discredited paper. Moreover, such shrewd and caustic writers as the Trollopes and Dixon and Charles Dickens have done great good service to their sensible and sensitive American brothers,—who, far from resenting strictures which for the moment stung, took the best advantage of their utterance in self-improvement. My first visit was hospitably redolent of all manner of seductive drinks,—wherein, however, I was (as they thought) too temperate; my second was as hospitably plentiful so far as eating went, but iced water (wherein I was temperate too) appeared solitarily for the universal beverage: though even in the most teetotal homes this English guest was always generously allowed his port or Madeira or even his whisky if he wished it. Temperance was a fashion, afurore, on my second visit, as its opposite had been on my first: and on each occasion, I persisted in a middle course, the golden mean,—which I know to be proverbially a wisdom though not at present universally so accepted.
It is hopeless for me to look through the multitudinous large quarto pages of my first diary and its letters, comments, paragraphs, &c.; they are only too full of compliments and kindnesses from friends in many instances passed away: and I will simply record two or three of the more public hospitalities which greeted me.
One of these was a grand dinner with the Maryland Historical Society at Baltimore, May 13, 1851, my late friend Mr. Kennedy in the chair as president, while Sir Henry Bulwer and myself supported him right and left, some hundreds of other guests also being present. Of course all was very well done, luxuriously and magnificently; but perhaps the best thing I can do (if my reader's patience and my present tired penmanship will approve it) is to extract from a newspaper, theBaltimore Clipperof the above date, aprécisof my speech on the occasion. Some distinguished gentleman having proposed my health,—"This brought to his feet Mr. Tupper, who, having expressed his thanks in an appropriate manner, and acknowledged his superior gratitude to the Author of all good, alluded to that international loving-kindness which he avowed to be one main errand of his life; and he very happily brought in Horace's prophetical description of England and America in their relation of mother and child, 'O matre pulchrâ filia pulchrior.' He followed by relating some striking incidents of the good feeling which pervades the old country in favour of her illustrious offspring. One we cannot fail to give was that the Royal Naval School at Greenwich had inserted his well-known ballad 'To Brother Jonathan' in a collection published for the use of the Royal Navy. The speaker then paid an eloquent compliment to the literature of America—her poets, statesmen, historians, and divines. He rejoiced that 'Insular America and Continental England' were so intimately and inseparably intermingled in the authorial productions of the human mind, as well as bound together by the strongest ties of nature and religion, of lineage, laws, and language. Adverting to thewise piety of such associations as the one before him, he exhorted to keep together the records of the past, that they may sanctify the present and be an encouragement to good and a warning against evil for the future. He commented severely upon the vandal act of the British troops under General Ross in burning the national archives at Washington. In this connection he introduced the beautiful lines from Milton:—
'Lift not thy spear against the Muse's bower;The great Emathian conqueror bid spareThe house of Pindarus, when temple and towerWent to the ground.'
'Lift not thy spear against the Muse's bower;The great Emathian conqueror bid spareThe house of Pindarus, when temple and towerWent to the ground.'
In conclusion, Mr. Tupper related an interesting fact, which in his mind suggested what should be to Americans a pleasing idea—possibly a discovery—as to the origin of the national flag. On making a pilgrimage just lately to Mount Vernon, he was forcibly struck by the circumstance that the ancient family coat-of-arms of the illustrious Washington consisted of three stars in the upper portion of the shield, and three stripes below; the crest represented an eagle's head, and the motto was singularly appropriate to American history, 'Exitus acta probat.' Mr. Tupper said he could not but consider this a most interesting coincidence. He thought the world might well congratulate America upon being the Geographical Apotheosis of that great unspotted character, who, while he yet lived, was prospectively her typical impersonation. The three stars by a more than tenfold increase have expanded into thirty-three; the glorious Issue has abundantly vindicated every antecedent fact; and your whole emergent eagle, fully plumed, is now long risen from its eyrie and soars sublimely to the sun in heaven." I may venture as anend to all this to quote a bit from my home letter. "At 6 o'clock, and thereafter till 12, I was the honoured guest at the enclosed splendid banquet. Our English ambassador sat on one side of the chairman and I on the other; the newspaper will save me all the trouble of a long account; but it was altogether one of the best triumphs I have ever achieved: see the papers. My dinner was very light, terrapin soup,paté de foie gras aux truffes, and sweetbread: with a deluge of iced water, and very little wine. My two speeches raised whirlwinds of applause, and took the company by storm. It was a most important opportunity for me, and, by God's help, I met it manfully. All the principal people of Maryland were there, besides our own minister; with Lady Bulwer in a side room and that nice young fellow Lytton; and there were many other distinguished strangers. You should have heard the shouts and cheers which greeted the points of my speech, and the after congratulations crowded about me. I begin to feel that if I had had common chances I should have been an orator. When I kindle up, my steam-horse goes off, and carries all his audience with him. While I was speaking, the people moved upen masse, and they gave me three cheers upstanding when I had done."
Another memorable event was a grand dinner given to Washington Irving and myself, as chief guests amongst others, by Prince Astor at his palatial residence in New York. As for the profusion of gold plate, glittering glass, innumerable yellow wax-candles in ormolu chandeliers, and general exhibition of splendid and luxurious extravagance, and all manner of costlywines and rarest gourmandise, I never have seen its like before or since; and more than this (if I may state the fact without much imputation of vaingloriousness), the intellectual treat was, to myamour propreat least, of a still more exquisite character, when our host protested to his company in a generous and genial speech that, if he could make the exchange, he would give all his wealth for half the literary glory of Washington Irving and Martin Tupper! We whispered to each other we heartily wished he could. I strangely missed visiting Irving at his own home, though urgently invited to it; but somehow other pressing engagements hindered, and so it was not to be.
On the same day with the Astorian dinner, Mr. Davis, a man of high social position, had urged me to dine with him, but I could not come as engaged till the evening. Now he, a local poet himself, had asked me in divers stanzas of fair rhyme; and so, not willing either to beat him in versification or to let him beat me, I made this epigrammatic reply in dog-Latin, which was taken to be rather 'cute:—
"Certes, amice Davis,Ibo quocunque mavis,Sed princeps Astor primoMe rapuit ad prandium;Cum me relinquit, imoIn me videbis handyum."
"Certes, amice Davis,Ibo quocunque mavis,Sed princeps Astor primoMe rapuit ad prandium;Cum me relinquit, imoIn me videbis handyum."
This skit was well appreciated. I met at his house divers celebrities, as indeed I did at many other splendid mansions, especially at the Mayor's, Mr. Kingsland: I hear he is the third personage in rank in the United States, and he lives with the grandeur of our London Lord Mayor. I went with him on the 22d of March1851 to one of the most magnificent affairs I ever attended. Here is an extract from my home-letter journal of same date:—
"Mr. Kingsland, the Mayor, came early to invite me to a grand day, being the inauguration of the Croton Waterworks. Went off with him at 10 from the City Hall in a carriage and four followed by forty new omnibuses and four, some with six horses, and caparisoned with coloured feathers and little flags, besides a number of private carriages; a gay procession, nearly a mile long, containing all the legislature and magnates of New York State and of the city—several hundreds." They visited in turn divers public institutions, and at most of them I had to speak or to recite my ballads, especially at a Blind Asylum, where, after an address from a blind lady (the name was Crosby), "at the request of the Governor of the State and the Mayor, I answered on the spur of the moment in a speech and a stave that took the room by storm," &c. &c. And so on for other institutions, and to the opening of the Croton Aqueduct. But there is no end to this sort of vainglorious recording. As Willis says in hisHome Journalat the time, "Mr. Tupper is among us, feeling his way through the wilderness of his laurels, and realising his share of Emerson's 'banyan' similitude,—the roots that have passed under the sea and come up on this side of the Atlantic rather smothering him with their thriftiness in republican soil." I suppose by thriftiness he meant thrivingness.
My first acquaintance with N. P. Willis arose in this, way. He had (as I have mentioned before) been in the habit of quoting month after month in his own paper passages from my "Proverbial Philosophy," believingthat book to be an obscure survival of the Shakespearean era, and that its author had been dead some three centuries. When he came to town, I called upon him at his lodging near Golden Square, walking in plainly "sans tambour et trompette" but simply announcing the then young-looking author as his old Proverbialist! I never saw a man look so astonished in my life; he turned pale, and vowed that he wouldn't believe that this youth could be his long-departed prophet; however, I soon convinced him that I was myself, and carried him off to dine in Burlington Street. Afterwards we improved into a friendship till he went the way of all flesh in Heaven's good time.
Perhaps another notable matter to record is that President Fillmore invited me to meet his Cabinet at dinner in the White House, and that I there "met and conversed immensely with Daniel Webster, a colossal unhappy beetle-browed dark-angel-looking sort of man, with a depth for good and evil in his eye unfathomable; also with Home Secretary Corwen, a coarse but clever man, who had been a waggon-driver; and with Graham, Secretary of the Navy, and with Conrad, Secretary at War, both gentlemen and having lofty foreheads; and with many more, including above all the excellent President," &c. &c. It was no small honour to meet such men on equal terms.
If I allowed myself to quote more from my first visit to America, it could only amount to variations of the same theme,—the great kindness of all around me to one, however humble, who had shown himself their friend both by tongue and pen. My books and my ballads had made the way to their affections, and so the author thereof reaped their love.
A little before my departure on this first visit this notable matter happened, and I will relate it in an extract from my last letter homeward.
"The happy thought occurred to me to call on Barnum, as I had brought him a parcel from Brettell; and, through him, to leave a card of respect for Jenny Lind. Barnum received me most graciously, and favoured me with two tickets for Jenny's concert to-night, whereof more anon. Meanwhile I thought of sending to Jenny, through Barnum, a pretty little copy of 'Proverbial Philosophy,' with a pretty little note,—whereof also more anon. Called on Edwards by good providence, and found that J. C. Richmond had misled me—he isn't to be married till next week. A nice visit to Major Kingsland and his good wife:—I find that my oratory has gone everywhere, and has made quite a sensation. Think of my stammering tongue having achieved such triumphs.—I do hope you get the papers I send. A card at Lester's, Union Hotel, as to Mary M. Chase.—Dined.—A full feast of reason with George Copway, the Redman chief, a gentleman, an author, and a right good fellow. Meeting also Gordon Bennett, the great New York Heraldist, who sat next me at dinner, when we had plenty of pleasant talk together; also Squier, the celebrated American Layard, who has discovered so much of Indian archæology, a small, good-looking, mustachioed, energetic man: also Tuckerman, the amiable poet: also Willis, a good sort of man, just now much calumniated for having shown up English society in his books,—but a kindly and a clever every way. Mrs. Willis called and carried off Willis, and I took Tuckerman under my wing to the monster concert at Castle Garden. The immense circularbuilding, full of heads (it holds 8000!) and lighted by 'cressets' of gas, put me in mind of Martin's illustration of Satan's Throne in Milton! The concert, as per programme, was a cold and dull affair enough,—though Lind did terrible heights and depths in the Italian execution line,—but after the concert came this beautiful episode. Barnum hunted me out from the two or three acres of faces,—because the fair and melodious Jenny had expressed to him an urgent wish to see me. When I got to her boudoir, where Barnum introduced me, I really thought she would have cried outright,—as feeling herself a stranger in a foreign land, and in the presence of an old unseen book-friend; for it seems,—as she told me in beautiful slightly broken English,—that my poor dear 'Proverbial Philosophy,'—which I never thought she had seen till I gave it to her,—has been to her 'such a comfort, such a comfort, many days;' and she was 'so glad, so ver glad,' to see me,—and she looked so unhappy,—though the immense hall was still echoing with those tumults of applause,—and she clasped my hand so often, and would hardly let it go, and made me sit and talk with her, for I was 'her friend,' and really seemed like a child clinging to its elder brother. I was quite sorry to leave her,—and when, putting aside all idle musical compliments, I tried to cheer her by the thought,—how nobly and generously for many good purposes she was using the melodious gift of God to her, poor Jenny only looked up devoutly, and shook her head, and sighed, and seemed unhappy. However, it was time to go, so with another hearty shake-hands, and 'my love todearEngland,' Jenny Lind and I took leave. This testimony as to my book's good use for comfort,—she will 'read more now she sees me,'—is very pleasing,—it is much to do poor Jenny good, who does good to so many others. I think I've forgotten to say that great old Webster, the Secretary of State, avows that he 'always after hard work refreshes his mind' with that book: and—I might fill volumes with the same sort of thing. God has blessed my writings to millions of the human race! And from prince to peasant good has been done through this hand, incalculable.—God alone be praised."
After the long interval of five-and-twenty years, filled up with many more such volumes and fly-leaves, I called again by pressing invitation on my American constituency, and found them as warm and generous and hospitable as before. This time I was six months a guest among them,—literally so, for I found myself passed on from home to home, and almost never took my bed at an hotel. The chief feature of this visit was that I posed everywhere as a public "reader from my own works," and met with generally good success, in spite of the terrific winter weather manfully encountered half the time. Everybody knows what extremities of cold are endured both in the North-Eastern States and in Canada. At Baltimore I have seen the snow piled almost man-high on each side of the middle lane dug for the tramway,—in New York men skated to their offices; at Ottawa the thermometer was 25° below zero, and at Montreal it was everywhere deep snow (glorious for sleighing), icicles yard long outside the windows,—and of course smaller audiences to a frozen-up lecturer. Yet many came nevertheless, and I am pleased to remember among them good Bishop Oxenden and his family. In spite, then, of positively Arctic influences, as I had to do it, I did it bravely; and sent homeneedful dollars, and came back with a pocket full too. All this is surely part of an author's lifework; so I am writing appositely.
Among notabilia of this second visit, which was crowded like the former with abundance of private hospitality and of public honours,—I may record these briefly. Dr. Talmage, my kind and liberal host for two lengthened visits, gave a grand reception on October 26, 1876, to William Cullen Bryant and myself, which was attended by Peter Cooper, Judges Neilson and Reynolds, Mayor Schroeder, Professors Crittenden and Eaton, with some hundred more; the chief features of the evening being Bryant's poetical recitations and mine. On another occasion I read my Proverbial Essay on Immortality at the Tabernacle before 7000 people at Dr. Talmage's special request: and of course at Chickering Hall, the Brooklyn Theatre, and other places I had to give Readings to large audiences. The Lotos Club and other genial hosts gave me complimentary dinners. Mr. Hulbert, the well-known editor, made apartie carrée(only four of us to consume some of the rarest delicacies) for Lord Rosebery, Mr. Barnum and myself: and in fact my journal overflows with elaborate hospitalities. It was the Centennial Year, and at Philadelphia I found abundant welcome, especially as an inmate of the genial homes of Mr. Roberts, the eminent Dr. Levis, the excellent Mrs. Fisher, and of Mr. Pettit, the clever artist who painted my portrait complimentarily. Of course I did the Great Exhibition thoroughly, and was quite surprised at its splendour and extent; I think that the thirty-three States were represented by no fewer than 180 ornamental edifices full of special products andtreasures. At Niagara I stayed twice for a week each, with the kindest of hosts, the Rev. Mr. Fessenden and his good wife, and saw the great cataract in all the magnificence of winter as well as autumn. Also at the pleasant homes, of Mr. Lister in Hamilton, at Toronto, Kingston, and above all Montreal, my new but old book friends were full of liberal greetings, and everywhere I had to exhibit myself as a Reader from my own works; a specialty not common, as combining both author and orator. At Toronto, the ministers, Mr.—now Sir John—Macdonald, and Dr.—now Sir Charles—Tupper were my principal welcomers; and I dined then with the Cabinet, as in 1851 I had with Lord Elgin's in (I think) the same hall. At Ottawa I found myself full of friends, and visited Lord Dufferin. At Montreal the wealthy merchant, Mr. Mackay of Kildonan (since departed and gone up higher), was my generous host: and there in one of the hardest winters known I often made acquaintance with the splendid gallop of his sleighs, all furs and colour and delightful excitement: on one occasion having nearly had nose and ears frost-bitten till my neighbour with his fur gloves and snow rubbed life into them again. With Dr. Dawson of M'Gill University I had plenty of geological talk, especially about the new found Eozoa of the St. Lawrence stratum,—and with his clever son, and my cousin, Professor Selwyn. Thereafter I went south, the welcome guest of other cousins, the Vaughan-Tuppers of Brooklyn, among my most hospitable friends over there: and we routed out all about our family in America, as recorded for ten generations in Freeman's "History of Massachusetts." And I feasted at Mr. Trocke's on trout from "Tupper Lake" in the Adirondacks,—the namecoming from an ancestor, not as after me, though sometimes thought so; and I met with many points both of family and of authorial interest. Then I was entertained by the New England Society, which, amongst abounding luxuries, still produces as a characteristic dish the frugal pork and beans of Puritan times. And the Century and other Clubs made me free of them. And of course Longfellow, Bryant, Fields, Biglow, O. W. Holmes, and many others, opened their houses and hearts to me. And I met and dined in company with General Grant and all sorts of other celebrities,—and so did all I hoped to do. Going south, Brantz Mayer at Baltimore, my cousin the Rev. Dr. Tupper (Bishop of the Baptists), and many others are memorable. Stay, I will give a casual extract from my home-letter, No. 39, of my second visit, giving several names.
"Jan. 18, 1877, evening. Took an oyster tea at Brantz Mayer's, and read to a party several things by request, especially as to the souls of animals. Judge Bond called for me there in his carriage, and took me (as invited by the President) to a great assemblage of Baltimore magnates (inaugurating the John Hopkins University), where I had casually quite an ovation, meeting literally hundreds of friends: I cannot pretend to remember many names, but these will remind me of others: General McClellan, General Ellicott (cousin to our Bishop), Carroll, the State Governor, no end of professors, among them Sylvester, who knew my brother Arthur at the Athenæum, plenty of judges, presidents of institutions, doctors, journalists, lawyers, and many fine figure-heads of elderly magnates; each and all knew me as an early book friend, and I had quite to hold a court for two hours, receiving each asintroduced, and having to say something pretty to him. Mr. Weld (of Lulworth), married to a rich Baltimorean, takes to me monstrously, and with Mr. President Gilman is going to manage a Reading here for me on my return from the South. He took me after the great event to the Maryland Club (making me a member for a month), and we had a glass of wine together, meeting again several of the bigwigs migrated like ourselves for something better than iced-water! for the odd thing is that, although the eating luxuries were profuse at this grand banquet,—whole salmons, bolsters of truffled turkey, oysters in every form, and plenty of terrapines, canvas-back ducks, and other costly comestibles,—not a drop of anything but water (except indeed tea and coffee) was to be had, the excuse being that at least some of the party would be sure to take too much; so all are mulcted for a few as usual." But my American journals are full of that sort of thing, and this honest extract may serve as a sample. I never guessed how crowded up by popularities a poor author may be till I had crossed the Atlantic and reaped the kindness of Greater Britain.
After all this, I went down South,—where I have seen brilliant humming-birds flying about, some two or three days after I had waded through deep snow northwards; my chief host, and a right worthy one, being a good cousin, S. Y. Tupper, President of the Chamber of Commerce at Charleston, S.C. With him and his I had what is called over there a good time, and indited several poetical pieces under his hospitable roof, in particular "Temperance" (see a former page). Also I wrote there another stave of mine which caused great discussion in the States, because I, reputed a Liberianand Emancipator, was supposed to have recanted and turned to be South instead of North; but I was only just and true, according to my lights. Here is the peccant stave, only to be found in Charleston and other American papers of February 1877, therefore will I give it here:—
To the South."The world has misjudged you, mistrusted, maligned you,And should be quick to make honest amends;Let me then speak of you just as I find you,Humbly and heartily, cousins and friends!Let us remember your wrongs and your trials,Slander'd and plunder'd and crush'd to the dust,Draining adversity's bitterest vials,Patient in courage and strong in good trust."You fought for Liberty, rather than Slavery!Well might you wish to be quit of that ill,But you were sold by political knavery,Meshed in diplomacy's spider-like skill:And you rejoice to see Slavery banished,While the free servant works well as before,Confident, though many fortunes have vanished,Soon to recover all—rich as before!"Doubtless, there had been some hardships and cruelties,Cases exceptional, evil and rare,But to tell truth—and trulythejewel 'tis—Kindliness ruled, as a rule, everywhere!Servants, if slaves, were your wealth and inheritance,Born with your children, and grown on your ground,And it was quite as much interest as merit henceStill to make friends of dependents all round."Yes, it is slander to say you oppressed them;Does a man squander the price of his pelf?Was it not often that he who possessed themRather was owned by his servants himself?Caring for all, as in health so in sicknesses,He was their father, their patriarch chief;Age's infirmities, infancy's weaknessesLeaning on him for repose and relief."When you went forth in your pluck and your bravery,Selling for freedom both fortunes and lives,Where was that prophesied outburst of slaveryWreaking revenge on your children and wives?Nowhere! you left all to servile safe keeping,And this was faithful and true to your trust;Master and servant thus mutually reapingDouble reward of the good and the just?"Generous Southerners! I who address youShared with too many belief in your sins;But I recant it,—thus, let me confess you,Knowledge is victor and every way wins:For I have seen, I have heard, and am sure of it,You have been slandered and suffering long,Paying all Slavery's cost, and the cure of it,—And the great world shall repent of its wrong."
To the South.
"The world has misjudged you, mistrusted, maligned you,And should be quick to make honest amends;Let me then speak of you just as I find you,Humbly and heartily, cousins and friends!Let us remember your wrongs and your trials,Slander'd and plunder'd and crush'd to the dust,Draining adversity's bitterest vials,Patient in courage and strong in good trust.
"You fought for Liberty, rather than Slavery!Well might you wish to be quit of that ill,But you were sold by political knavery,Meshed in diplomacy's spider-like skill:And you rejoice to see Slavery banished,While the free servant works well as before,Confident, though many fortunes have vanished,Soon to recover all—rich as before!
"Doubtless, there had been some hardships and cruelties,Cases exceptional, evil and rare,But to tell truth—and trulythejewel 'tis—Kindliness ruled, as a rule, everywhere!Servants, if slaves, were your wealth and inheritance,Born with your children, and grown on your ground,And it was quite as much interest as merit henceStill to make friends of dependents all round.
"Yes, it is slander to say you oppressed them;Does a man squander the price of his pelf?Was it not often that he who possessed themRather was owned by his servants himself?Caring for all, as in health so in sicknesses,He was their father, their patriarch chief;Age's infirmities, infancy's weaknessesLeaning on him for repose and relief.
"When you went forth in your pluck and your bravery,Selling for freedom both fortunes and lives,Where was that prophesied outburst of slaveryWreaking revenge on your children and wives?Nowhere! you left all to servile safe keeping,And this was faithful and true to your trust;Master and servant thus mutually reapingDouble reward of the good and the just?
"Generous Southerners! I who address youShared with too many belief in your sins;But I recant it,—thus, let me confess you,Knowledge is victor and every way wins:For I have seen, I have heard, and am sure of it,You have been slandered and suffering long,Paying all Slavery's cost, and the cure of it,—And the great world shall repent of its wrong."
I need not say what a riot that honest bit of verse raised among the enthusiasts on both sides. I spoke from what I saw, and soon had reason to corroborate my judgment: for I next paid a visit on my old Brook Green school-friend, Middleton, at his burnt and ruined mansion near Summerville: once a wealthy and benevolent patriarch, surrounded by a negro population who adored him, all being children of the soil, and not one slave having been sold by him or his ancestors for 200 years. According to him, that violent emancipation was ruin all round: in his own case a great farm of happy dependants was destroyed, the inhabitants all dead through disease and starvation, a vast estate once well tilled reverted to marsh and jungle, and himself and hisreduced to utter poverty,—all mainly because Mrs. Beecher Stowe had exaggerated isolated facts as if they were general, and because North and South quarrelled about politics and protection. Mrs. Stowe, I hear, has learnt wisdom, as I did,—and now like me does justice to both sides. There is no end to extracts from my journals, if I choose to make them; but I think I will transcribe four stanzas which I gave to Williams Middleton in February 1877, on my departure, as they bring together past and present:—
"Ancient schoolmate at Brook GreenHalf a century ago(Nay, the years that roll betweenCount some fifty-eight or so),—Oh, the scenes 'twixt Now and Then,Life in all its grief and joys,—Meeting Now as aged menSince the Then that saw us boys!"There's a charm, a magic strange,Thus to recognise once more,Changeless in the midst of changeMind and spirit as of yore;Even face and form discernedEasily and greeted well,While our hearts together burnedAt school-tales we had to tell."Mostly dead, forgotten, gone,—Few old Railtonites of fame(Here and there we noted one),Yet we find ourselves the same!Sons of either hemisphereWe can never stand apart,With to me Columbia dearAnd my England in your heart."You, of good old English stock,—I—some kindred of mine ownPound themselves on Plymouth Rock,Five times fifty years agone;So, I come at sixty-six,All across the Atlantic main,With my kith and kin to mix,And to greet you once again!"
"Ancient schoolmate at Brook GreenHalf a century ago(Nay, the years that roll betweenCount some fifty-eight or so),—Oh, the scenes 'twixt Now and Then,Life in all its grief and joys,—Meeting Now as aged menSince the Then that saw us boys!
"There's a charm, a magic strange,Thus to recognise once more,Changeless in the midst of changeMind and spirit as of yore;Even face and form discernedEasily and greeted well,While our hearts together burnedAt school-tales we had to tell.
"Mostly dead, forgotten, gone,—Few old Railtonites of fame(Here and there we noted one),Yet we find ourselves the same!Sons of either hemisphereWe can never stand apart,With to me Columbia dearAnd my England in your heart.
"You, of good old English stock,—I—some kindred of mine ownPound themselves on Plymouth Rock,Five times fifty years agone;So, I come at sixty-six,All across the Atlantic main,With my kith and kin to mix,And to greet you once again!"
I may here record that, accompanied by Middleton, I watched at an alligator's hole with a rifle, but the beast would not come out, perhaps luckily for me, if I missed a stomach shot; that I was prevented from bringing down a carrion vulture, it being illegal to kill those useful scavengers; that I caught some dear little green tree frogs; that I noted how the rice-fields had become a poisonous marsh; that I noticed the extensive strata of guano and fossil bone pits, securing some large dragon's teeth, and with them sundry flint arrow-heads, suggestive of man's antiquity; that I lamented over the desolation of my friend's mansion and estate, and in particular to have seen how outrageously the Federals had destroyed his family-mausoleum, scattering the sacred relics of his ancestors all round and about. This was simply because he had been a Confederate magnate, and had owned patriarchally a multitude of slaves, born on the spot through two centuries. He and his kind brother, the Admiral,—my friendly host at Washington,—have joined the majority elsewhere; but I heard from him and others down South the truth about American slavery.
For remainder rapid notice. Paul Hayne the poet is remembered well; and the fine old great-grandmother with eighty-six descendants of my name; and thereafter came the inauguration of President Hayes, anaccount whereof I wrote to the English papers; and hospitalities at the White House, and records of plenty more Readings and receptions; and all about Edgar Poe at Baltimore, and my acquaintance with Henry Ward Beecher, and my final New York hospitalities, and my pamphlet "America Revisited," written on board the return steamer theBatavia,—and so an end hurriedly.
This was my last farewell to my million friends, published in Bryant's paper;—
Valete!"A last Farewell—O many friends!I leave your love with saddened heart;And so my grateful spirit sendsThis answering love before we part:I thank you tenderly each one,I praise your goodness, dear to tell,And, well-remembered when I'm gone,Alike will yearn on you as well."A last Farewell—O my few foes!I fear'd you not, by mouth or pen,But to the battle bravely rose,A man to fight his fight with men:And though the gauntlet I have runYou shall not say he fail'd or fell,Truly recording when I'm gone,He fought and won his victories well."My last Farewell—O brothers both!No foes at all, but friends all round;Albeit now homeward, little loth,To dear old England I am bound—Accept this short and simple prayer(A cheerful verse, no parting knell),To every one and everywhereMy thankful blessing, and Farewell!"
Valete!
"A last Farewell—O many friends!I leave your love with saddened heart;And so my grateful spirit sendsThis answering love before we part:I thank you tenderly each one,I praise your goodness, dear to tell,And, well-remembered when I'm gone,Alike will yearn on you as well.
"A last Farewell—O my few foes!I fear'd you not, by mouth or pen,But to the battle bravely rose,A man to fight his fight with men:And though the gauntlet I have runYou shall not say he fail'd or fell,Truly recording when I'm gone,He fought and won his victories well.
"My last Farewell—O brothers both!No foes at all, but friends all round;Albeit now homeward, little loth,To dear old England I am bound—Accept this short and simple prayer(A cheerful verse, no parting knell),To every one and everywhereMy thankful blessing, and Farewell!"
I have another vast volume before me, recounting my English and Scotch Reading Tours, with full details of innumerable home kindnesses and hospitalities, from Ventnor in the South to Peterhead in the North, which I need not particularise. I gave twenty-one "Readings from my own Works" southward, in a dozen towns with a regularentrepreneur, who was myavant couriereverywhere, making all arrangements, placarding, advertising, hiring halls, engaging reporters, and the like; when all was ready, I used to come forward, as the General does at a review,—and then succeeded the sham-fight and division of the spoils of war—if any; for, to say truth, our partnership did not prove lucrative, so we parted with mutual esteem, and I resolved to accomplish all the rest of my projected tour alone; a great effort and a successful one, for I "orated" all through Scotland, from Ayr to Peterhead (far north of Aberdeen), often to very large audiences (as at Glasgow, where the number was said to be three thousand) and always to fair ones, the Scotch being much more given to literature than the West of England. I could give innumerable anecdotes of the splendid as well as kindly welcome I received from great and small,—for as I now had no attending agent I was all the more eagerlytreated as a solitary guest,—and I found myself handed on from one rich host to another all through the land, with numerous book friends everywhere ready and willing to make all arrangements freely at each town and city. So the tour paid better every way, albeit the toil and excitement of being always to the front, either on platforms or at dinner-parties, was excessive though not exhausting. It is astonishing what one can do if one tries, and if the sympathy of friends and a really good success are at hand to cheer one. I wish there was space here to say more about all this; but the great book before me would print up into several volumes. I will only, add, as below, an interesting extract from this diary, just before I had parted with my worthy agent aforesaid:—"He has told me some curious anecdotes about eminentartisteswhom he has chaperoned,e.g.Thackeray came to Clifton to give four readings on the Georges; the first reading had only three auditors, the second not one; so Thackeray went away. Bellew is uncertain; sometimes having empty benches, sometimes overflowing ones, according to the programme, whether serious or laughable. Tom Hood gave a lecture on Humour, which was so dull that the audience left him. Miss Glyn Dallas often reads 'Cleopatra,' magnificently too, to empty benches. Sims Reeves draws a vast audience, but sometimes at the last moment refuses to sing (probably paying forfeit) because he is always afraid of something giving way in his throat. Dickens, though with crowded audiences, was not liked, nor nearly so good as Mr.—— expected: he carried about with him a sort of show-box, set round with lights and covered with purple cloth, in the midst of which he appeared in full evening costume withbouquet in button-hole, and, as Mr.—— said, 'very stiff.' Mr.—— has just engaged Madame Lemmens Sherrington and six others for sixty-three concerts at a cost of £4000, for he says that good music—after low humour—is the best thing to pay. May his spirited speculation prosper!" Thus much for my quotation of Mr.—— 's experiences.
It may interest a reader if I give, quite at haphazard, a list of one of my readings: "Welcome; Adventure; Yesterday, To-day, and To-morrow; All's for the Best; Energy; Success; Warmth; Be True; Of Love; The Lost Arctic; The Way of the World; Cheerfulness." All these may be found in my Miscellaneous Poems and "Proverbial Philosophy." I varied the programme—of about an hour and a half each (sometimes two)—frequently through my fifty readings on this side of the Atlantic, as well as through my hundred over there. How strange that the stammerer should have so become the orator!—I thank God for this.
Before a final end to this brief record of my home-readings, I will add another page of short extracts from this diary: "Though I continually read for nearly two hours at a stretch (and that sometimes twice a day too) I take no intervals, and hardly anything but a sip of water. Energy and electrical effort are stimulants enough." "I always exert myself quite as much for few as for many; perhaps more so." "No one ever can read well or hold his audience if he doesn't feel what he reads." "Some of the clergy are no great friends of mine; one told me to-day that 'perpetual dearly beloved brethren had spoilt him for eloquence, and he didn't care to hear mine.'" This was at Salisbury, in a coffee-room. "Cathedral towns are always dullest and leastsympathetic with lecturing laymen; for example, at Bristol, Salisbury, Worcester, Gloster, and the like. Are the clerics jealous of lay spouters? Dissenting ministers and Presbyterians seem far more genial." "I travelled about fifteen hundred miles by rail, besides coaches and carriages. My aggregate of paying hearers was about sixteen thousand, the bulk being old book-likers. The gain was nearly four times as much as the cost, good hospitality having been the rule." "I read publicly (private readings additional, as often asked after dinners, &c.) twenty-nine proverbial essays and thirty-eight poems; repeated according to popularity by request to two hundred." I only do not name some of my generous Scotch and English hosts for fear of seeming to have forgotten others by omission; and the list is too lengthy for full insertion; as also is the long story of my adventures and experiences in the hospitable North.
Before dismissing thus curtly, my great Scottish exploit (which, by the way, anticipated by three years my second American visit, but I would not disjoin that from my first) I ought to give some account of the publication of my Miscellaneous Poems by Gall & Inglis at Edinburgh, and of some few of the hospitalities connected therewith, though not revealing domesticities, as against my wholesome rule.
An odd thing happened to me at Mr. Inglis's dinner-table, where I met several literary celebrities. I had just read, and was loud in my praises of a then anonymous work, "Primeval Man Unveiled," and I asked my neighbour, an aged man, if he knew that extraordinarybook? Whereupon the whole table saluted the questioner with a loud guffaw; for I was speaking to its author, whom I had innocently so bepraised. However, my mistake was easily forgiven, as may be imagined. I found that the said author was Mr. Inglis's near relative, Mr. Gall,—so my new publisher and I were immediatelyen rapport.
There are two simultaneous editions of this book of my poetry—one called the Redlined and the other the Landscape; the first on thick paper, and with eight steel engravings, the latter having every page decorated in colours with beautiful borderings of scenery. The volume contains about one-half or less of all the mass of lyrics I have written, some of the pieces having been in earlier books of my poetry, as Ballads and Poems, Cithara, Lyrics of the Heart and Mind, Hactenus, A Thousand Lines, &c. &c.; and they date, though not printed in systematic order, from my fifteenth year to beyond my sixtieth. Fly-leaf lyrics have been continually growing ever since now to my seventy-sixth.
Here are a few further random, extracts from my Scotch diary:—"Arbroath,Sunday, Nov. 2, 1873.—What a comfort it is for once to feel utterly unknown; for even my luggage has only a monogram, and here at the White Hart I am No. 15, and a commercial gent to all appearance: really, it is quite a relief to be some one else than Martin Tupper."
"Read J. S. Mill's autobiography; poor wretch! from his cradle brought up as an atheist by a renegade father, he can have been hardly more responsible for his no faith than a born idiot. However, in these infidel last times, and with our very broad-church and no-church teachings, a man has only to be utterly godless(so he be moral) to make himself a name for pure reason. I'd sooner be the most unenlightened Christian than such a false philosopher. Let a Goldsmith say of me, 'No very great wit, he believed in a God,' for I refuse to deny one, like the Psalmist's fool." "I throw myself so into my readings, that I almost forget my audience, till their cheering, as it were, wakes me up,—and I feel every word I say: if I didn't, that word would fall dead. There is a magnetism in earnestness,—an electric power; I am in a way full of it when reciting, and I am aware of it flowing through the mass of my audience." "It was a touching thing to me to hear the aged Mr. B—— conduct his family worship, singing like an old Covenanter the harmonious Puritan dirgy hymn, reading the Bible most devoutly, and praying (as only Presbyterians can pray) from the heart and not from a formal liturgy, earnestly and eloquently; he prayed also for me and mine, and I thank God and him for it." "My host at Ayr drove me in his waggonette to see the mausoleum at Hamilton Palace, with its wonderful bronze doors after Ghiberti, and its inlaid marble floor, much of which is of real verd antique in small pieces. Then we went down among the dead men, and inspected the coffins of nearly all the Dukes of Hamilton. It is an outrage to have expended so much (£100,000) on this senseless mausoleum, and to have left close by and within sight of the great Grecian palace those filthy crowded streets of poverty and disease—the wretched town of Hamilton—as a contrast to profuse extravagance. The last Duke, the very Lord Douglas who was in the same class with me at Christ Church, and is supposed to have personated me in Tom Quad, has a very graceful temple of Vesta all to himself, with his bust in the middle: his father lies, of all heathenish absurdities, in a real antique Egyptian sarcophagus, into which it is said he was fitted by internal scoopings, the Duke being taller than its former tenant, the Pharaoh. All this done, we drove through some rugged parts of the High Park, to see magnificent oaks, much like some at Albury, in hopes of coming upon the famous wild cattle, grey, with black feet, ears, tail, and nose, and stated to be untameable. To our great satisfaction we did see a herd of thirty-four feeding quietly enough; had we been walking instead of driving we might have fared poorly as hunted ones: though I confess I saw at first no fierceness in the lot of them; but when the herd sighted us, and began ominously to commence encircling our gig, under the guidance of a terrible bull, we turned and fled, as the discreeter part of wisdom; Captain Hamilton, my host, telling me that if they charged us we must jump out and swarm up a tree! I was glad to be out of such a fearful escapade as that." "As to diversities in the Scotch Church, after seeing many clerical specimens of each kind, I judge that (generally) the Established Scotch gives itself the superior airs of the Established English; the Frees are the most intellectual; the U.P.s most pious; the Scottish Episcopal getting excessively high; and some other varieties growing far too broad and pantheistic. I don't wonder to hear Papists say that Protestantism is breaking up; no two parsons are agreed on all points, some on none."
As for social hospitalities, I found them either splendid or kindly—or both—everywhere; and will only name Captain Hamilton of Rozelle, Sir Michael Shaw Stewart of Ardgowan, Mr. Boyd of Glasgow, Mr. Galland Mr. Nelson of Edinburgh, Mr. Arthur of Paisley, and such other millionaire hosts as James Baird, William Dickson, and the like, as among my wealthiest and kindest welcomers.
Of course, when a guest for a week at Rozelle, I paid due homage to Burns in his own territory; visiting his natal cottage, his funeral cenotaph, Alloway Kirk, the Auld Brig, &c. &c.—all these in company with the millionaire iron-master and most enthusiastic admirer of Tam-o'-Shanter, Mr. James Baird. When he took me to his magnificent castle hard by, he said to me "Ye're vera welcome to ma hoose,"—and I entered to inspect his gallery of pictures: among them I noticed, with surprise at such an incongruous subject for a painting, an ugly red factory in course of building, and a man on a ladder leaning against it, with a hod on his shoulder. To my inquiry about this, he replied, "Yon's mysel',—I'm proud to say; that's what I was, and this is what I am." He had made, while yet a workman, some discovery about cold blast or hot blast (I don't know which) and gained enormous wealth thereby. He is the man who gave half a million of money to the Scotch Established Church.
I have something of interest to say about the first laying of the electric telegraph across the Atlantic. Sir Culling Eardley invited a number of savants, among them Wheatstone and Morse, and others, both English and American, to a great feast inaugurating the completion of the cable: and I, amongst other outsiders, had the honour of being asked. I had written, and after dinner I read, the verses following, which had the good and great effect of originating the first message (see the seventh stanza) which was adopted by acclamation and sent off at once; being only preceded, for courtesy-sake, by a short friendly greeting from Queen to President, and President to Queen. The heading runs in my book as "The Atlantic Telegraph."