Our God’s a fastness sure indeed,A trusty shield and weapon;He helps us free in every needThat unto us may happen.The old wicked foeNow in earnest doth go,Deep wiles and great mightIn his fell store unite,—The earth holds not his fellow.By strength of ours is nothing done,Full soon are we dejected!But on our side’s a championBy God himself elected.And who may that be?Christ Jesus is he,The Lord God of Hosts!All gods else are vain boasts,Our camp is in his keeping.Though demons rage both far and nearAnd gape our souls to swallow;Not all too great shall be our fear;Success our steps shall follow.The prince of this world,Though threats he hath hurled,To us can do nought,For if to judgment broughtOne word declares his sentence.To let the word stand they are fain,And small thereby their merit;He dwells among us on the plainWith gifts and with his spirit.What though they take life,Goods, name, child, and wife,We need not rebel—No profit those to hell,While ours must be the kingdom.
Our God’s a fastness sure indeed,A trusty shield and weapon;He helps us free in every needThat unto us may happen.The old wicked foeNow in earnest doth go,Deep wiles and great mightIn his fell store unite,—The earth holds not his fellow.By strength of ours is nothing done,Full soon are we dejected!But on our side’s a championBy God himself elected.And who may that be?Christ Jesus is he,The Lord God of Hosts!All gods else are vain boasts,Our camp is in his keeping.Though demons rage both far and nearAnd gape our souls to swallow;Not all too great shall be our fear;Success our steps shall follow.The prince of this world,Though threats he hath hurled,To us can do nought,For if to judgment broughtOne word declares his sentence.To let the word stand they are fain,And small thereby their merit;He dwells among us on the plainWith gifts and with his spirit.What though they take life,Goods, name, child, and wife,We need not rebel—No profit those to hell,While ours must be the kingdom.
Our God’s a fastness sure indeed,A trusty shield and weapon;He helps us free in every needThat unto us may happen.The old wicked foeNow in earnest doth go,Deep wiles and great mightIn his fell store unite,—The earth holds not his fellow.
Our God’s a fastness sure indeed,
A trusty shield and weapon;
He helps us free in every need
That unto us may happen.
The old wicked foe
Now in earnest doth go,
Deep wiles and great might
In his fell store unite,—
The earth holds not his fellow.
By strength of ours is nothing done,Full soon are we dejected!But on our side’s a championBy God himself elected.And who may that be?Christ Jesus is he,The Lord God of Hosts!All gods else are vain boasts,Our camp is in his keeping.
By strength of ours is nothing done,
Full soon are we dejected!
But on our side’s a champion
By God himself elected.
And who may that be?
Christ Jesus is he,
The Lord God of Hosts!
All gods else are vain boasts,
Our camp is in his keeping.
Though demons rage both far and nearAnd gape our souls to swallow;Not all too great shall be our fear;Success our steps shall follow.The prince of this world,Though threats he hath hurled,To us can do nought,For if to judgment broughtOne word declares his sentence.
Though demons rage both far and near
And gape our souls to swallow;
Not all too great shall be our fear;
Success our steps shall follow.
The prince of this world,
Though threats he hath hurled,
To us can do nought,
For if to judgment brought
One word declares his sentence.
To let the word stand they are fain,And small thereby their merit;He dwells among us on the plainWith gifts and with his spirit.What though they take life,Goods, name, child, and wife,We need not rebel—No profit those to hell,While ours must be the kingdom.
To let the word stand they are fain,
And small thereby their merit;
He dwells among us on the plain
With gifts and with his spirit.
What though they take life,
Goods, name, child, and wife,
We need not rebel—
No profit those to hell,
While ours must be the kingdom.
BY OLIVER W. LONGAN,Of the War Department.
In an article on the “War Department” inThe Chautauquanfor December, mention was made of the weather observations by the Signal Corps of the army. This novel service—novel both in its character and in its assignment to a military department—was commenced in 1870, under a resolution of Congress, approved February 9th of that year, which required the Secretary of War “To provide for taking meteorological observations at the military stations in the interior of the continent, and at other points in the states and territories of the United States, and for giving notice on the northern lakes and on the sea coast, by magnetic telegraph and marine signals, of the approach and force of storms;” and in June, 1872, the provisions of the service were extended to include “the agricultural and commercial interests” of the country. The plan of organization and the superintendence of the service were imposed upon the chief signal officer of the army, then General Albert J. Myer,[A]to whose memory the signal and the weather services are living monuments.
If failures are of value in guiding succeeding attempts in the same line, General Myer had the advantage of a number, both in this country and Europe, but attributing those failures to a want of proper agents rather than to mistakes of method, and being thoroughly imbued with the idea that efficient service from a body of men employed in the same enterprise can be obtained only by enrolling them under the oath of enlistment as subjects of military discipline, he could adopt all the methods of operation which had already been tried by others, and, uniting with them his own, could undertake the work with a confidence in men as much as in measures, and make sure progress over the same road that had been too difficult for others to travel. The signal service, which had been organized by him as a special and distinct department of the army, was well prepared to operate the most important agent in the work, the magnetic telegraph, and it has constructed its lines over a great extent of country not yet reached by civilization, connecting frontier military posts with each other and with the lines owned and operated by private companies.
The office division first established under the law of Congress, which has been mentioned, was called by the appropriate but too extensive name of “Division of Telegrams and Reports for the Benefit of Commerce,” but great works which have been proved and not found wanting may, like great men, afford to adopt simpler titles without loss of favor, or if they will not do so voluntarily, such titles will be fashioned for them and fastened to them by the people, who have not time to regard the official proprieties that would hold them off at a respectful distance by an appearance of gravity of demeanor or by an impressive name, so the office has come to be familiarly known as the “Weather Bureau,” and the officials in charge have accepted the designation without objection. It detracts nothing from the appreciation of the work they accomplish in giving information—premonitory—of wind and rain, heat and cold, frost and snow, river flood and ocean tide, and much more of interest and value day by day—yes, and night by night as well—for the inhabitants of this continent, and in adding to the knowledge of meteorology which is eagerly sought by the scientists of the world.
The service contemplated by Congress was at first intended—if we may judge by the language of the law—only to benefit persons interested in the commerce upon the great lakes and the ocean. Then the agriculturists were permitted to take share in the advantage afforded by a prevision of the weather. But we are all too greatly interested personally in the kind of weather expected to-morrow or the next day not to seek to profit by the work done for those engaged in special business when there may be great gain for us as individuals without robbery of their peculiar rights. Our interest moves us to speech almost unconsciously, as we meet our friends by the way and tell them, what they already know as well as we, about the kind of weather then prevailing, or express our hopes or fears for what soon will be. Work and play are sources of profit and pleasure, according to the influences of the weather, and the signs of olden time are numberless, to which we give our confidence, whether they come from the beasts of the field, or the fowls of the air, or the fishes of the sea, or are indications based upon a correct philosophy, well known but not well understood. The masses of the people will not give up their attachment to these signs, nor for the old-fashioned almanac which their fathers consulted for their weather predictions, but now that they have the aid of a great government institution conducted by men who study the weather as a science, and who have patiently held out to them the benefit of their investigations until the good natured skepticism and the raillery of the multitude who dubbed the genius of the weather service “Old Probabilities,” has all been banished and has given place to full faith and credit, they ought to acknowledge, and no doubt do, that their personal wants in this respect have been recognized, and they will take interest in the methods by which they are met and satisfied.
Every feature of the signal service has been brought into requisition and use for the work of weather observations and storm warnings, and the original bureau seems to have been so wholly absorbed in the new one that the corps will be known, except perhaps in official circles, only by its operations in this special field, until war shall call for the more frequent use of the flags and rockets and lights, by the aid of which a great part of the rapid communication pertaining to the business of warfare is carried on. Thepersonnelof the corps comprises a chief signal officer (brigadier-general), twelve second lieutenants, one hundred and fifty sergeants, thirty corporals, and three hundred and twenty privates. Prior to 1878 there were no signal officers in the regular establishment except the chief, but in that year authority was given to appoint two second lieutenants annually from the sergeants, and the selection for these appointments is made by competitive examination. Officers are assigned to duty with the corps by detail from the regiments of the army, and after a course of instruction return to their proper stations, and are succeeded by others. A few civilians are employed in the office in Washington city, in various capacities, including that of professional scientist and instructor, but the great work of observation is done by the army force, so called because every member of it is ready at any moment to lay aside his special duties and take up arms for any emergency. The pay of the officers is that of their grade in the army: $5,500 per annum for a brigadier-general; $1,400 for a second lieutenant, with an increase of ten per centum after each five years of service, until the increase reaches forty per centum (after twenty years’ service), when no more is added. (This increase, called longevity pay, is not given to any officer above the rank ofcolonel.) As the government is supposed to furnish a habitation of a certain number of rooms for each commissioned officer, there is quite an augmentation of the pay when the duty requires a station where there are no public quarters, as is the case in most of the service for the weather bureau, and commutation is paid. The pay of the enlisted men varies according to their rank and station of duty, but is based upon the army pay table. The pay of a sergeant, including all allowances, averages monthly within a few cents of the following amounts: At a military post where quarters and rations are provided in kind, $40; at an observing station, $80; at the office in Washington city, $100; that of a corporal $25, $65, and $85; that of a first class private $22, $62 and $82, and a decrease of four dollars for a second class private, the respective stations being those mentioned for the sergeant. The great difference in the pay of the same man at different places is made by the “extra duty pay,” and commutation of allowances (rations, quarters, fuel and clothing) when they can not be furnished in kind. The entrance into the service is by an enlistment of five years. Every man must pass a rigid examination into his physical and educational qualifications. The service presents advantages not found in any other branch of the army. The inducements attract a well educated class of men, many of them graduates of colleges, who find in the scientific part of the work at least, a congenial pursuit.
The school of instruction is at Fort Myer (formerly Fort Whipple), a military station in Virginia, on the bank of the Potomac river, nearly opposite Washington city. The course embraces the drill and discipline of the soldier, the code of signals, the construction and operation of telegraph lines, the use of meteorological instruments, and the method of taking observations. The central office in Washington occupies an ordinary looking brick building of uncertain age, half a square west of the War Department building. It was originally two two-story dwelling houses, but has received an additional story and “Mansard” roof, and has been fitted for its present use. The plain and dingy exterior escapes critical notice by the display of the mysterious looking machinery and fixtures upon the roof. An immense arrow (anemoscope), with broad feather-tip end, turns its point ever “in the wind’s eye,” and is imitated by two smaller ones at a lower elevation. Several sets of spinning instruments of various sizes stand in different places. These are the anemometers for measuring the velocity of the wind. The part of each visible from the ground is simply a vertical rod with four branches on the top, each branch having a hemispherical shaped cup upon its outer end, so placed as to catch the wind in its convex side. The force of the wind gives the cups a rotary motion in a horizontal plane, which causes the vertical rod to revolve and record by connecting mechanism and dials the velocity of the wind in miles per hour. Near the center of the roof may be seen a vessel with a funnel shaped top into which the rain falls and is measured to ascertain the depth in inches, of which accurate record is kept. Close by is a framework supporting a small cage-like structure with lattice sides and tight roof, within which are hung the thermometers, barometers, and other instruments consulted regularly at intervals, to ascertain the temperature, pressure, and humidity of the atmosphere. These fixtures and instruments are used for the purpose of obtaining indications of the weather, and for the instruction of “Observers,” and serve as well for standards by which instruments to be sent to other places may be tested. Only a portion, however, of the business of the office is done in the building mentioned, a number of others in the vicinity being occupied for the several departments of the work.
The central office is connected by telegraph with stations in the principal cities of the country, at the sea and lake ports, and at points along the Atlantic and gulf coasts, uniting with stations of the United States Life Saving Service, for it is there that the work of greatest value, the saving of human life, is done. The number of stations is limited only by the amount of money provided by Congress for their maintenance. The top of Pike’s Peak and the summit of Mount Washington both contribute their share of upper air phenomena, and the lowest valleys in the interior give up their secrets of the atmosphere at its greatest depth. What an ocean it is, with its surface which we are told is a certain number of miles above us, and its bottom, which we know is under our feet, its shoreless currents, some as gentle as the breath of an infant, others more fierce and swift than the whirlpool rapids of Niagara. To learn of these currents their force and direction, whence they come and whither they go, the laws to which they are subject, has been the fascinating study of amateur meteorologists and the pursuit of men of professional attainments in science for many years. But their discoveries were of little practical value before Professor Morse, on a May day forty years ago, sent over a telegraph wire between Washington and Baltimore, his first message in the form of a question which since has been answered in wonders by the same agent then employed, and the same now used to send warning of the coming storm, whose swift wings have no other rival.
The weather stations are distinguished under a classification made by a special service performed at each, and are known as telegraph, printing, display, special river, cotton region, and sunset stations. A number of them may have all the special features indicated by the different names, while others may have but the one feature which gives it its place in the class. The last mentioned are so called, not, as the name may possibly suggest, because they are located away off toward sundown, but because of the special observation taken at the time of sunset which affords so good an indication of the probable weather for to-morrow. It recalls the fact that the Jews were reminded more than eighteen hundred years ago of their habit of observation in this particular, which was a rebuke for their failure to read “the signs of the times.” A great number of reports are received at the Weather Bureau weekly and monthly, by mail from volunteer observers, from medical officers at military posts, from agricultural and scientific societies, and at regular times from meteorological societies in the old world, but as none but the telegraphic reports have more than a relative connection with the work of weather indications for which we are looking day after day, it is sufficient for the purposes of this article to simply mention the fact that there are several hundred of these mail reports from which record of permanent and daily increasing value is made for study and information of the climate in various sections of the country.
The station service necessarily commenced under the disadvantage of having no observers of experience, but there was only one way to get them, and the beginning of the work was the commencement of the education of the men who were to perform it. At this time there is not only the course of instruction at Fort Myer, but men as assistants at stations are perfecting themselves to occupy the places of those who have become masters in the profession, or to take charge of new places. The telegraph stations number about one hundred and fifty, and at each one is an “Observer Sergeant,” with one or more assistants. Their equipment in instruments is similar to that which has been mentioned in connection with the central office, viz.: For ascertaining the temperature of the air; the weight or pressure and relative humidity of the atmosphere; the direction, force, and velocity of the wind; and the depth of the rainfall; also at river stations for taking the temperature of the water, and for measuring its rise or fall; and at display stations signal flags and lanterns are included. The observers take the record from their instruments at regular intervals every day and night, Sundays and holidays included. There are three of these observations—taken at 7:00 a. m., 3:00 p. m., and 11:00 p. m., Washington time—telegraphed to the central office. Those taken at other hours are not telegraphedunless called for, but are recorded and enter into the weekly and monthly mail reports. The dispatch is in cipher, which permits the sending of a long message in from five to twelve words, giving pressure, temperature, direction, and velocity of wind, depth of rain or snow fall, appearance and movement of clouds and any special meteorological phenomena present, and adding from river and coast stations the stage of water in the rivers and the ocean swell. By preconcerted arrangements with telegraph companies, the reports pass over the wires without delay or interruption, and all reach the central office within about forty minutes after the observations are taken. They are at once translated and entered upon graphic charts—outline maps of the United States—on which each station is marked by its geographical location. By the use of symbols and figures all the meteorological conditions of each locality are exhibited, and so perfect is the system of arrangement for reporting and drafting that in less than two hours from the time the record was taken by the “Observers,” the officer who is to make the weather predictions has all the reports before him in the central office.
The ever-changing conditions of weather are in a manner photographed, and serve as guides for the work which immediately follows the making up of the charts. First the “synopsis” of conditions is made up, then the predictions or “indications” of the kind of weather expected, and the places where storm warnings are to be shown are determined, and in the form of a bulletin they are telegraphed to all parts of the country as the “Press Report,” to observing stations to be reproduced and furnished to local papers, posted in public offices and mailed to postmasters for exhibition in their offices, several hundred postoffices in some instances being supplied from one station. They are also placed in railroad stations and distributed from trains at points along their lines. Thus the people are advised of the kind of weather prevailing over the district of country in which they live, and informed of the changes that may be expected within twenty-four or forty-eight hours.
“Observers” at their several stations publish in connection with the “indications” telegraphed from the central office, the conditions prevailing in their own localities, and in large cities where weather maps are hung in the rooms of boards of trade, merchants’ exchange, or other important offices, they place or change the symbols used to indicate the conditions at all the stations, as they receive them from reports passing them to the central office or repeated from the latter.
The development and progress of all storms are as clearly delineated upon the charts prepared in the central office as it is possible for sensitive instruments to reveal them, and special attention is given to indications of high winds approaching the coasts. Orders are sent by telegraph to the maritime stations within a region likely to be visited by dangerous winds, and a “cautionary signal”—a square white flag with a square red center by day, or a red-center light by night—is displayed, remains out until notice is received from the central office that the danger has passed. This signal is used as the storm approaches. As the general direction of storms upon the Atlantic coast, or approaching it, is easterly or northeasterly, and the direction of the wind is circular and opposite to the motion of the hands upon a watch, with an inward tendency toward the “storm center,” as the storm departs from a station the wind will probably blow from the north or west, and a “cautionary off-shore signal,” a square white flag with square black center above the red flag, by day, or a white light above the red by night, may be ordered. Special record of the velocity of the wind is made at the stations when storm signals are ordered, and if it reaches twenty-five miles an hour the display of the signal is regarded as “justified.” These signals have become a necessity, and the occasions are exceedingly rare in which a vessel will leave port with one in sight until the captain or master has first made inquiry at the station for “particulars.” Coasting vessels are dependent in a great measure upon them; if they pass a station with the storm-signal displayed, they frequently escape encountering destructive gales by putting into the nearest port until the danger has passed.
The coast telegraph lines connecting the signal and the life saving stations have been constructed by the government, and are operated by the signal corps. The weather stations are equipped for making connections with the main line at any point, and many instances may be found recorded in the official reports, of shipwrecks on the coast to which relief has been brought in a very few hours by the prompt action of “Observers” opening telegraphic communication from a point abreast the wreck, direct to the central office in Washington, and sending information to be repeated, with the weight of official authority, to the nearest port from which steamers could be sent to the rescue. A vessel in distress, or in need of any information, if in possession of the international code of marine signals—a number of nations have adopted the American code—may communicate with the shore stations. By this code a number of small flags of various shapes and colors, used singly or together, answer to certain words and sentences, and these being translated into other languages, convey from the American or Englishman to the Frenchman, German, or Spaniard the question or answer desired, as plainly as an affirmative nod of the head from one to the other would mean yes.
The river reports are an important feature of the service. The temperature of the waters, surface and deep, taken regularly, makes a record for the benefit of those engaged in the propagation of food fishes, which is becoming an important government work. The stage of water taken in connection with the reports of rainfall and temperature of the atmosphere in their influence upon deep beds of snow and ice-locked streams affords ground for warnings, when needed, to persons engaged in any river traffic, or exposed to floods upon the banks.
The “waves” of temperature have become as real to us as those upon the ocean, and the prosecution of very many kinds of business, or the transportation of perishable produce is guided by the reports of the Weather Bureau, as it foretells the coming of heat or cold. The interior of the country will no doubt soon have the benefit of signals, as well as “bulletins.” A large, white flag, with a square black center, is now displayed at stations in advance of an expected “cold wave,” and before a great while we may expect the “limited express” upon the different railroads will be made the bearer of signals to forewarn the inhabitants of the country through which it passes of the change of weather rapidly following its track. The possibilities of the service seem to be unlimited, but the most careful watchfulness of the “Observers,” and the keen vigilance of the officers who direct them have not yet brought the elements to reveal all their movements. Sometimes, as a wary foe, a storm will steal in between the sentinels, or descend from the upper air, and gathering all its strength into one narrow channel, will drive destruction through town and country, and leave behind it evidences of power which we can hardly credit, except by sight.
One of the many specimens exhibited in the National Museum at Washington is a section of a young oak tree four inches in diameter, with a pine board, one inch thick, four inches wide at one end, and twelve inches wide at the other, which has been driven through the tree more than half its length (eight feet, the label states), and is now held as in a vise, the tree above and below the board being unbroken. This has been deposited in the Museum as an evidence of the force of the wind in a tornado that visited the vicinity of Wesson, Mississippi, April 22, 1883.
The progress of work in the Weather Bureau has been first toward encompassing great interests in the fields indicated by law, then to take up the smaller needs pertaining to individual benefit and pleasure, and as time passes and the service widens there will be personal contact that will give an intimate knowledge and impression of its value which narrative can not.
FOOTNOTES[A]Died at Buffalo, New York, August 24, 1880.
[A]Died at Buffalo, New York, August 24, 1880.
[A]Died at Buffalo, New York, August 24, 1880.
BY FRANCES E. WILLARD,President National W. C. T. U.
Last month, taking the Past for a background, I tried to picture the opportunity which the Present holds up before the daughters of America. Let me now, for a brief space, coming freshly from the field of active service, where banners wave and squadrons wheel, try to talk about the conditions of success, in this wonderful battle of life. First, then, I would give this not at all startling bit of advice:Keep to your specialty; to the doing of the thing that you accomplish with most of satisfaction to yourself, and most of benefit to those about you. Keep to this, whether it is raising turnips or tunes; painting screens or battle pieces; studying political economy or domestic receipts; for, as we read in a great author who has a genius for common sense: “There is not one thing that men ought to do, there is not one thing that ought to be done, which a woman ought not to be encouraged to do, if she has the capacity for doing it. For wherever there is a gift, there is a prophecy pointing to its use, and a silent command of God to use it.” Such utterances as these are assertions of the “natural and inalienable rights” of the individual as such. They are deductions of the Christian philosophy which regards you and me, first and chiefly, as human beings, and makes the greatest possible account of personal identity. In all ages there have been minds that saw this truth. The intellects which towered like Alpine peaks above the mass of men, were the first to reflect its blessed light. Two thousand years ago, Juvenal made the heroine of a famous “Satire” say to the hero: “I like our Latin word forman, which equally includes your sex and mine. For you should not forget that, in all things highest, best, and most enduring in our natures, I am as much a man as you are.” The sun of truth looms high above the far horizon in our day, and even the plains of human thought and purpose are glowing with the light of this new inspiration. “Personal value,” “personal development,” these will be the noontide watchwords, “when the race out of childhood has grown.” Only yesterday I heard a fashionable butterfly, in the surroundings of a luxurious home, saying with sudden enthusiasm: “Of one thing I am sure; every woman that lives is bound to find out what is the very best thing she can do with her powers, and then she’s bound to do it.” In creating each of us with some peculiar talent, God has given us each “a call” to some peculiar work. Indeed, the time is almost here when the only call that will be recognized as valid, in any field, must involve in him who thinks he hears it, both adaptation and success. Each one of us is a marvelous bundle of aptitudes and of capacities. But, just as I prefer the active to the passive voice, I prefer to put the aptitudes first in my present inventory. Besides, the world has harangued us women on our capacities, from the beginning, and it is really refreshing to take the dilemma of our destiny by the other horn, at last! Civilization (by which I mean Christianity’s effect on the brains and hands of humanity), wonderfully develops and differentiates our powers.
Among the Modocs there are but four specialties—assigned with remarkable fairness, in the proportion of two for the squaws and two for the braves. The last hunt and fight; the first do the drudgery and bring up the pappooses. Among the Parisians, on the contrary, the division of labor is almost infinite, so that the hand perfectly skilled in the most minute industry (as, for instance, in moulding the shoestrings of a porcelain statuette), needs no other resource to gain a comfortable livelihood. Among the Modocs, skins are about the only article of commerce. Among the Parisians, evolution has gone so far in the direction of separating employments formerly blended, that you can not buy cream and milk in the same shop.
By some unaccountable perversion of good sense, the specialties of human beings who are women, have been strangely circumscribed. But they werethere, all the same, and now, under the genial sun of a more enlightened era, they are coming airily forth, like singing birds after a thunder storm. And wonderfully do they help some of us to solve the toughest of all problems:What is life for?
Let us see. Lift the cover of your sewing basket; there are thimble, scissors, spools of thread, and all the neat outfit needful to a seamstress, but minus the needle they have no explanation and no efficiency. Unlock your writing desk: what are paper, ink, and sealing-wax, without the pen? They are nothing but waste material and toys. So it is with you and me. We have no explanation that is adequate; we have no place in the work-box and portfolio of to-day; no place in the great humming hive of the land we live in, save as some predominating aptitude in each of us explains why we are here, and in what way we are to swell the inspiring song of voluntary toil and beneficent success. Suppose that here, and now, you proceed to take an “inventory of stock,” if you have not been thoughtful enough to do that already. Made up as you are, what is yourforte, your “specialty,” your “best hold,” as men phrase it? Be sure of one thing, at the outset: The great Artificer, in putting together your individual nature, did not forget this crowning gift, any more than he forgets to add its own peculiar fragrance to the arbutus, or its own song to the lark. It may not lie upon the surface, this choicest of your treasures; diamonds seldom do. Miners lift a great deal of mere dust, before the sparkling jewel they are seeking gladdens the eye. Genius has been often and variously defined. I would call itan intuitionof one’s own best gift. Rosa Bonheur knew hers; Charlotte Cushman recognized hers; George Eliot was not greatly at a loss concerning hers. As for us, of less emphatic individuality, sometimes we wait until a friend’s hand leads us up before the mirror of our potential self; sometimes we see it reflected in another’s success (as the eaglet, among the flock of geese, first learned that he could fly, when he recognized a mate in the heaven-soaring eagle, whose shadow frightened all the geese away); sometimes we come upon our heritage unwittingly, as Diana found Endymion, but always it is there, be sure of that, and “let no man take thy crown.” As iron filings fall into line around a magnet, so make your opportunities cluster close about your magic gift. In a land so generous as ours, this can be done, by every woman who reads these lines. A sharpened perception of their own possibilities is far more needed by “our girls” than better means for education. But how was it in the past? If there is one thought which, for humanity’s sake, grieves me as no other can, it is this thought of God’s endowment bestowed upon us each, so that we might in some especial manner gladden and bless the world, by bestowing upon it our best; the thought of his patience all through the years, as he has gone on hewing out the myriad souls of a wayward race, that they might be lively stones in the temple of use and of achievement, and side by side with this, the thought of our individual blindness, our failure to discern the riches of brain, heart and hand, withwhich we were endowed. But most of all, I think about the gentle women who have lived, and died, and made no sign of their best gifts, but whose achievements of voice and pen, of brush and chisel, of noble statesmanship and great-hearted philanthropy, might have blessed and soothed our race through these six thousand years.
There is a stern old gentleman of my acquaintance, who, if he had heard what I have felt called upon to say, would have entered his demurrer, in this fashion: “That’s all fol-de-rol, my friend; a mere rhetorical flourish. If women could have done all this, why didn’t they, pray tell? If it’s in it’s in, and will come out, but what’s wanting can’t be numbered. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes with your vague generalities. I went to the Centennial; I saw Machinery Hall, and what’s more for my argument (and less for yours), I saw the ‘Woman’s Pavilion,’ too.”
He would then proceed to ask me, with some asperity, if I thought that any of my “gentle myriads” could have invented a steam engine? Whereupon I would say to him, what I now say to you, “most assuredly I think so; why not?” And I would ask, in turn, if my old friend had studied history with reference to the principle that, as a rule, human beings do not rise above the standard implied in society’s general estimate of the class to which they belong. Take the nations of Eastern Europe and Western Asia; “civilized” nations, too, be it remembered; study the mechanic of Jerusalem, the merchant of Damascus and Ispahan; in what particular are the tools of the one or the facilities of commerce familiar to the others, superior to those of a thousand years ago? Surely, so far as oriental inventions are concerned, they have changed as little as the methods of the bee or the wing-stroke of the swallow. We hear no more of man’s inventiveness in those countries than of woman’s. Why should we, indeed, when we remember that both are alike untaught in the arts and sciences which form the basis of mechanical invention? They are inspired by no intellectual movement; no demand; no “modern spirit.” It is not “in the air” thatmenshall be fertile of brain and skilled of hand as inventors there, any more than it is here that women shall be, and where both knowledge and incentive are not present, achievement is evermore a minus quantity. None but a heaven-sent genius, stimulated by a love of science, prepared by special education and inspired by theprestigeof belonging to the dominant sex, ever yet carved types, tamed lightning or imprisoned steam. Besides, in ages past, if some brave soul, man or woman, conscious of splendid powers, strove to bless the world by their free exercise, what dangers were involved! Was it Joan of Arc? the fagot soon became her portion; or Galileo? on came the rack; or Christopher Columbus? the long disdain of courtiers and jealousy of ambitious coadjutors followed him; or Stephenson? his fetter was the menace of the law; or Robert Fulton? he faced the sarcasm of the learned and the merriment of boors. Even for the most adventurous inventors of to-day (as the aeronaut experimenters), what have we but bad puns and insipid conundrums, until he wins, and then ready caps tossed high in air and fame’s loud trumpet at his ear—when death’s cold finger has closed it up forever.
Times are changing, though. The world grows slowly better and more brotherly. The day is near when women will lack no high incentive to the best results in every branch of intellectual endeavor and skilled workmanship. Not a week passes but from the Patent Office comes some favorable verdict as to woman’s inventive power. Wisdom’s goddess deems herself no longer compromised because places are assigned us in her banquet hall. “The world is all before us where to choose,” and I, for one, appeal from the “Woman’s Pavilion” of the first, to that which shall illustrate the second hundred years of this republic.
BY EDITH SESSIONS TUPPER.
It is believed by many that the Tower of London is, as its name would seem to indicate, but a single lofty pile, while in reality it is a vast collection of grim towers and frowning bastions; a great walled town in the heart of busy London.
The Tower, or the White Tower, built in the time of the Conqueror, is surrounded by twelve smaller towers—Bloody, Bell, Beauchamp, Devereux, Flint, Bowyer, Brick, Martin, Constable, Broadarrow, Salt and Record. In turn, these are environed by the ballium walls and bastions, and the moat guarded by Middle, Byward, St. Thomas, Cradle, Well and Devlin towers.
As one descends Tower Hill, the eye takes in the whole immense and hoary mass, fit emblem of the stormy and tempestuous times in which each separate tower arose. Like black shadows of the past casting their gloom over the present, rise the lofty turrets above the roofs of modern buildings. Sternly they look down upon throbbing London, each with its own history, each with its own awful secrets locked in its stony breast.
Amid the terrific conflict of the days when the Norman was trampling the Saxon under foot, the Tower, the Great Tower, or the White Tower, as it was variously called, arose.
William the Conqueror caused it to be built as a fortress for himself in case his Saxon subjects might rebel against his hard and iron rule. Among the ecclesiastics who possessed the richest sees of those days was Gundulph, bishop of Rochester, who was also a fine military architect. To him the Conqueror gave the commission to build his New Fortress in 1079-80. Gundulph selected the site just without the city then, and to the east, on the northern side of the Thames. The tower is quadrangular in shape, one hundred and sixteen feet from north to south, ninety-six from east to west, ninety-two feet in height, and its external walls are fifteen feet in thickness—an imposing and superb specimen of Norman architecture. It is three stories high, not counting the vaults. There are some slight traces remaining of the grand entrance on the north side, but visitors enter by modern doors on both the north and south sides.
In the northeast corner of the White Tower is a massive staircase, connecting the three stories. The column around which the stairs wind is a remarkable and well preserved specimen of ancient masonry. A wall seven feet in thickness runs north and south, which divides the tower from base to summit. Another wall extending east and west subdivides the southern portion into unequal parts, forming in each story one large and two small rooms. The smallest division on the ground floor is called Queen Elizabeth’s Armory, being filled with armor and trappings of her day. On the north side of this room, one is shown a cell formed in the thickness of the wall, ten feet long and eight wide, receiving no light save from the entrance. In this dark and dismal room was imprisoned for twelve long years the gay and brilliant courtier, Sir Walter Raleigh, on suspicion merely of being implicated in a plot to place the Lady Arabella Stuart, the niece of the unfortunate Queen of Scots, on the throne of England. This ill-fated lady also perished in the tower, her reason having been dethronedby her long and cruel captivity. In the year she died, Sir Walter was released and sent to South America to search for gold mines; returning unsuccessful he was remanded to the Tower, and beheaded in 1618 to please the Spaniards. James First wished to gain their favor, as his son Prince Charles was to be married to the Infanta. Raleigh’s bravery and valor had been too often directed against the Spaniards for them not to exult over his cruel fate. In this wretched and gloomy cell, it is said, he wrote his “History of the World.” In the center of this armory are various instruments of torture; about the room are stands of weapons, halberds, battle axes, maces and bills, and military instruments for cutting the bridles of horses; at the end of the room is a figure on horseback, representing Queen Bess. Her dress is copied from an ancient portrait, and she is attended by officers and pages. Just back of these figures hangs a very old picture of St. Paul’s cathedral. But the most terribly fascinating objects in this room are the block, the headsman’s hideous, grinning mask and the original axe. With horror the visitor looks upon the block, dented here and there where the executioner’s nervous blows struck wide of the mark, and upon the ponderous axe, whose blade has cleft the necks of so many royal and noble victims.
One is glad to leave this chamber of horrors and go above into St. John’s Chapel, which is considered one of the finest specimens of Norman architecture left in the kingdom. It terminates in a semi-circle, and the twelve enormous pillars are arranged in similar fashion. These pillars are united by arches which admit the light into the nave from the windows. In the reign of Henry III. three immense windows of stained glass were added to the chapel. It is not known at what time or from what cause it ceased to be used for religious purposes. A large room directly above, on the third floor, was used as a council chamber by the kings, when they held their court in the Tower. It was in this room that the infamous Richard, Duke of Gloucester, ordered Lord Hastings to instant execution in front of St. Peter’s Chapel.
This room is now used as a depository for small arms, and the arrangement of weapons in the form of various flowers is wonderful and artistic, the entire ceiling being covered by curious and intricate combinations of these arms.
Encircling the great White Tower, as has been said, is a row of twelve smaller towers. Perhaps the one first in interest is that directly opposite the Traitor’s Gate, and rightly named, known as the Bloody Tower. It is rectangular in form, being the only one of that shape in the inner ward. It closely joins Record or Wakefield Tower on the west. Its grand gateway was built in the reign of Edward III., and is the entrance proper to the inner ward. The massive portcullis gives signs of immense age. It was in this tower in 1483, that the most infamous order of the hateful Gloucester, the murder of the innocent princes, the children of Edward IV., was consummated.
“The tyrannous and bloody act is done—The most arch deed of piteous massacreThat ever yet this land was guilty of.”
“The tyrannous and bloody act is done—The most arch deed of piteous massacreThat ever yet this land was guilty of.”
“The tyrannous and bloody act is done—The most arch deed of piteous massacreThat ever yet this land was guilty of.”
“The tyrannous and bloody act is done—
The most arch deed of piteous massacre
That ever yet this land was guilty of.”
The little victims are supposed to have been buried at the foot of the staircase in the White Tower, but a strange mystery surrounds their fate.
Joining Bloody Tower is the tower next in size to the Great or White Tower, known as the Record Tower, from its having been for many centuries the depository for the records of the nation, and Wakefield Tower, from the imprisonment there of the Yorkists, after the victory of Margaret of Anjou, the Amazonian queen of the good but weak Henry VI., at Wakefield, in 1460. This victory gave the House of Lancaster the ascendency for a short time. The next year the Yorkists were successful, Henry was remanded to the tower, and was soon after found dead, murdered by Gloucester’s command, it is supposed.
“Within the hollow crownThat rounds the mortal temples of a kingKeeps death his court; and there the antic sits,Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp;Allowing him a breath, a little scene,To monarchise, be fear’d and kill with looks;Infusing him with self and vain conceit,As if this flesh which walls about our lifeWere brass impregnable; and humor’d thus,Comes at the last, and with a little pinBores through his castle wall—and farewell, king!”
“Within the hollow crownThat rounds the mortal temples of a kingKeeps death his court; and there the antic sits,Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp;Allowing him a breath, a little scene,To monarchise, be fear’d and kill with looks;Infusing him with self and vain conceit,As if this flesh which walls about our lifeWere brass impregnable; and humor’d thus,Comes at the last, and with a little pinBores through his castle wall—and farewell, king!”
“Within the hollow crownThat rounds the mortal temples of a kingKeeps death his court; and there the antic sits,Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp;Allowing him a breath, a little scene,To monarchise, be fear’d and kill with looks;Infusing him with self and vain conceit,As if this flesh which walls about our lifeWere brass impregnable; and humor’d thus,Comes at the last, and with a little pinBores through his castle wall—and farewell, king!”
“Within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps death his court; and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchise, be fear’d and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable; and humor’d thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall—and farewell, king!”
Wakefield Tower is very ancient, having been built in the time of William Rufus, in 1087.
On the opposite side of the inner ward looms up the gloomy and famous Bowyer Tower, so named from its having been the residence of the Master Provider of the King’s Bows. In a dungeon-like room of this tower, “false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,” younger brother of Edward IV., was drowned in a butt of Malmsey. Together with the detestable Gloucester, he stabbed the young son of Henry VI. in the field at Tewkesbury, but retribution was swift. He soon incurred the displeasure and jealousy of his royal brother, and perished in this wretched manner.
“O Brackenbury, I have done these thingsThat now give evidence against my soul—For Edward’s sake, and see, how he requites me.”
“O Brackenbury, I have done these thingsThat now give evidence against my soul—For Edward’s sake, and see, how he requites me.”
“O Brackenbury, I have done these thingsThat now give evidence against my soul—For Edward’s sake, and see, how he requites me.”
“O Brackenbury, I have done these things
That now give evidence against my soul—
For Edward’s sake, and see, how he requites me.”
But a short distance from the Bowyer is the Brick Tower, which acquires a mournful interest from the fact that tradition has assigned this as the prison of the martyr of ambition, the lovely Lady Jane Grey. Fuller says of her that at eighteen she possessed the innocence of childhood, the sedateness of age, the learning of a clerk, and the life of a saint. Gentle, modest and retiring, fond of her studies and books, little dreamed she of her short-lived honor and cruel fate. Forced upon the throne by the insatiable ambition of Northumberland, she ruled for ten days. It is asserted that Mary wished to spare her cousin’s life, but that Wyatt’s rebellion so alarmed her that she determined to make an example of Lady Jane and her boy husband, Guildford Dudley.
Not only her piety, grace and beauty excite our admiration, but also her sublime heroism, which caused her to refuse to bid her young lover and husband farewell, lest the parting should unman him. Dudley was executed on Tower Hill, and the same day the lofty spirit of his wife joined his.