Iona to Erin!

What Saint Columba Said To The Bird
Blown Over From Ireland To Iona. [Footnote 21]

[Footnote 21: This is a very ancient legend of the great founder of Iona, and very characteristic of his exalted patriotism and loving tenderness for all creatures, in which he was an antitype of the seraphic St. Francis.]

I.
Cling to my breast, my Irish bird,
Poor storm-tost stranger, sore afraid!
How sadly is thy beauty blurred—
The wing whose hue was as the curd,
Rough as the seagull's pinion made!
II.
Lay close thy head, my Irish bird.
Upon this bosom, human still!
Nor fear the heart that still has stirred
To every tale of pity heard
From every shape of earthly ill.
III.
For you and I are exiles both;
Rest you, wanderer, rest you here!
Soon fair winds shall waft you forth
Back to our own beloved north—
Would God, I could go with you, dear!
IV.
Were I as you, then would they say,
Hermits and all in choir who join,
'Behold two doves upon their way;
The pilgrims of the air are they,
Birds from the Liffey or the Boyne!'
V.
But you will see what I am banned
No more, for my youth's sins, to see—
My Derry's oaks in council stand.
By Roseapenna's silver strand—
Or by Raphoe your flight may be.
VI.
The shrines of Meath are fair and far,
White-winged one! not too far for thee—
Emania, shining like a star,
(Bright brooch on Erin's breast you are!) [Footnote 22]
That I am never more to see.
[Footnote 22: It is said that Macha, the queen, traced out
the site of the royal rath of Emania, near Armagh, with the
pin of her golden brooch. See Mrs. Ferguson's "Ireland
before the Conquest," for this and other interesting
Celtic legends.]
VII.
You'll see the homes of holy men
Far west upon the shoreless main—
In sheltered vale, on cloudy Ben,
Where saints still pray, and scribes still pen
The sacred page, despising gain!
VIII.
Above the crofts of virgin saints.
There pause, my dove, and rest thy wing.
But tell them not our sad complaints!
For if they dreamt our spirit faints
There would be fruitless sorrowing.
IX.
Perch as you pass amid their trees,
At noon or eve, my travelled dove.
And blend with voices of their bees
In croft, or school, or on their knees—
They'll bind you with their hymns of love!
X.
Be thou to them, O dove! where'er
The men or women saints are found.
My hyssop flying through the air;
My seven-fold benedictions bear—
To them, and all on Irish ground.
XI.
Thou wilt return, my Irish bird—
I, Colum, do foretell it thee.
Would thou couldst speak as thou hast heard
To all I love—O happy bird!
At home in Eri soon to be!

Magas; or, Long Ago.
A Tale Of The Early Times.

Chapter VII.

Are there any souls who can read the gospels as they would a common history of an heroic being? Whose frames do not thrill at the sublime words the anointed Saviour uttered? Whose hearts do not glow with an unearthly warmth at the touching incidents which mark the divine footsteps? Who see in the miracles only a temporary relief from natural ailments? Who feel in the tremendous agony of the passion only the ordinary tide of human emotion in contemplating suffering? Such as these will not sympathize with Lotis, as she rose from the cleansing waters with one sole aspiration in her heart; one firm, unchangeable purpose in her will; one object of interest for her intellect; one single love to fill every affection she was conscious of. Long ago she had sought the truth, the light, the life, the way. She possessed them now; it remained for her to form herself upon the model, to think his thoughts, to act his deeds, to live in his sight, and be crucified in him; and all because she felt that here on earth it was the only life worth having, the only love worth loving. The perversion of the world had become to her the necessary result of its having forsaken God; and because it has forsaken God, and cannot recognize truth, it will ever persecute good; and they that live godly in Jesus Christ must necessarily suffer persecution—the persecution to which a blessing is promised. Day and night did Lotis meditate on the words of God; nor was it long ere she desired to bring them into action. After the example of the Christians of Jerusalem, she had placed her resources at the feet of the Bishop of Athens, and now she placed her services under his direction. But there was one thought that haunted her, and often she uttered one word in his presence; that word was Chione.

"And what do you think can be done for Chione, my child?" asked the good bishop one day.

"I do not know, father, (so let me call you, I beg;) I do not know; but I understand her struggle now, which I did not when I sat with her on the ruins; I see what she meant when she could not give up Magas, or the applause of the world. She dreaded slavery because she was not free in soul. Would I could win the interior freedom for her by wearing the exterior chain. Father, let me beg Chione's freedom, bodily freedom; hers is not a spirit to be coerced into discipline. Surveillance only exasperates her."

"I believe it, my child, when it is not of her own choosing. Remember, however, she obeys Magas."

"Because he flatters her, fosters her pride, and maintains her in her station; besides, she loves him, and a woman easily obeys where she loves."

"She has bound herself to follow Christ."

"But she does not feel free to do it. Perhaps, were exterior freedom granted to her, she might follow what she knows to be truth. I shall never forget her appearance in the ruins of Tiryns when first I accosted her. Chione has not lost her faith."

"Faith without works is dead," [Footnote 23] said the bishop; "for works are the expression of our love, of that divine charity without which we are nothing. [Footnote 24] Though we speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, we become as sounding brass or tinkling cymbals."

[Footnote 23: James ii. 20.]
[Footnote 24: I Cor. xiii. I, 2.]

"Chione knows this," said Lotis; "she feels it intensely; it is this feeling which occasions the struggle which she says is destroying her."

"Well, she shall have her freedom, my daughter, though I doubt its effecting a good result. It is scarcely in the redemptive order. Our Lord cured those only whose souls were turned to him. [Footnote 25]

[Footnote 25: "And he did not many mighty works there, because of their unbelief." Matt. xiii. 58.]

Men try to penetrate the secrets of matter, and call their guesses science. The action of mind they observe not, or they would see that it obeys laws as unfalteringly as the insensate stone. A soul perfectly united to God is endowed with power that seems supernatural to those who know not that 'soul' is of divine origin, and even in its primal attributes towers above matter. The action of such a soul on one open to its influences is miraculous, as all action of grace is; but it was once Adam's privilege by conferred gift at creation; it is now the Christian's right, purchased for him by Christ. The apostles, as you know, heal those whom their shadow falls upon, not of their own power, but by virtue of the Holy Spirit that dwells in them; but the power of God thus manifests itself only when the recipient has at least some degree of recipient power, obtained by grace also. Christ is silent before his unbelieving judges, works no miracle for Herod; yet he cannot exist without grace flowing from him; but grace falling on souls who will not receive it, but hardens them the more. [Footnote 26] This is why an apostate is ever harder to reconvert than one who has never received the faith; this is why we are forbidden to cast our pearls before swine; this is why I tremble for Chione. Remorse was busy at her heart when you left her. If she listens to the voice of God thus speaking within her, she may yet be a saint; if she rejects the proffered voice, I fear, I fear the effect of grace rejected in such a mind as hers; it will demonstrate itself with no ordinary power."

[Footnote 26: "And God hardened the heart of Pharao." Exodus x. 27.]

"At the words she heard at Ephesus she fainted away," said Lotis.

"Better," answered the bishop, "better had she thrown herself at the feet of the apostle, and said simply, 'I repent me of my sin.' Of what service to her was her remorse? It stopped her eloquence, paralyzed her tongue. She could no longer mystify her hearers by vain terms of an unintelligible philosophy of which she held the key in her hand, though she would not use it. From what you have told me, it was remorse, and not repentance, she felt."

"Oh! that she might be saved, though it were as by fire," fervently ejaculated Lotis.

The bishop looked at her face beaming with heavenly charity, and the spirit of prophecy awoke within him.

"Lotis," said he, "all Christians are more or less sureties for one another, and must bear each other's burdens, even as our Master became surety for each one of us, and bore our sins upon the cross. It is a fearful burden Chione has to endure, more especially for one of her disposition. 'Twill be, indeed, a saving as if by fire, when salvation comes to her. Say, would you be willing to help her bear her burden? If the flames are kindled, and she shrinks from them, will you pass through them in her place?"

"To save her? Yes! Indeed I would! Father, I love Chione."

"Then offer yourself to God for her, my daughter, and strengthen yourself by prayer for the suffering you must look forward to. Chione will be granted to expiatory love."

......

Chapter VIII.

"Now, my Chione, we will go to Athens."

"No, not to Athens, Magas; anywhere rather than to Athens; I beg of you not to take me to Athens."

"Why, what caprice is this? Where in all the world will you find yourself likely to be appreciated so well as at Athens? What audience more intelligent, more refined, more susceptible of sublime emotions? I love Athens; you know I do, and you may judge of the depth of my love for you, that, to ensure your freedom, I have kept from it so long; but now, no one has a claim upon you save myself; so we will go to Athens."

"I thought you had set your heart on going to Rome."

"That was only when I deemed Athens was out of the question. But my—my Chione, you are free; we may go anywhere. My estates are suffering from want of my presence; besides, I will settle some of the revenues on you. You must come to Athens with me."

It was very unwillingly that Chione acceded; but what could she do? Was she less a slave now than before? Sometimes she thought she was more so; for had she gone to the Lady Damaris, resumed the practice of her religion, which clung to her inner being, although outwardly she gave no sign of faith, she knew she would have been not only freed, but placed in a position to render her independent of Magas. And why did she not do this now—why? Her fame had preceded her to the city, and she resolved to prove worthy of the reputation she had acquired. Poetry, art, mythic types, and Christian dogmas, blended in euphonic union in the discourses she delivered, while her impassioned verse thrilled every heart; everywhere she was greeted as the modern Sappho, everywhere honored as the tenth muse; and at last the acclamations of her fellow-citizens called her to the very temple of the muses in which we were first introduced to her, there to receive the crown of music, eloquence, and poesy. How could she refuse? How could she renounce the world? ... The throng was immense; not only the élite of Athens were there, but strangers came in crowds to hear the celebrated Leontium. The small temple had been somewhat injudiciously chosen, since not one half of the crowding throng could enter. The festival had been proposed as a private tribute of friendship from the most exalted citizens of Athens to their adorable muse; but Leontium (as her public name ran) was no longer a private person; it was found impossible to distance the crowds; and hastily a platform was erected outside the building in the sacred grove, that the public might be accommodated and have a chance of hearing their favorite sing the glories of Athens.

We will not attempt to describe the preparatory exercises; the beautiful intertwinings and graceful wreathings of the various myths represented on that day, when all the energies of the city seemed exhausted to impart glory to the classical allegories that were about to disappear from among mankind for ever. There was an elegance, a chastity about the performance never witnessed before, and an influence was felt impending that belonged not to the types before them. To the superior taste of Magas and Chione some of this atmosphere of exaltation was doubtless due; yet the audience felt as if something more than this was around them; as if the divinities themselves were present, and insisting on receiving the homage that for so many ages had been presented as their right.

But now it was nearly over. The walls of Thebes had risen to the lyre of Amphion, while the slow but untiring Hours had followed to its soft music the glorious chariot of Apollo; and so artfully was all contrived that the spectators could not discover by what magic the stones were moved, or the figures representing the hours supported as they moved on the mists away.

Hermes, instructing Cadmus in the art of letters; Minerva, introducing the distaff into the household; and Ceres, teaching man to sow the corn; all these had followed with appropriate poetry and music, with many others of a similar description. And then, as if to heighten the effect by contrast, came a hush, a calm, a silence; the stage was covered with clouds; the incense rendered every object indistinct; low, melancholy tones uttered at intervals, kept expectation on the stretch; then suddenly a blast of trumpets seemed to clear away the mists; and the clouds receding, disclosed Aurora opening the gates of the morning to the music of the spheres, who then passed slowly out of sight as a far more lovely vision broke upon the spectators—Venus Urania, borne by the graces into the company of the muses, descending from the skies to greet the votaries who, garlanded and wreathed, were waiting to receive her in a burst of celestial song. The illusion was complete; the daughter of Coelus and of Light was on her first appearance greeted with a tumult of applause; and as in wavy, measured movements, encircled by the graces, she floated down to earth, scattering her bright inspirations in sparks of fire upon the muses who were kindling into enthusiasm at her approach, the whole assembly caught the melody as it rose from the inspired sisterhood:

Beautiful daughter of Coelus and Light,
Coming in glory to gladden our sight.
Vision of loveliness! star of the day!
Grateful and glad is the homage we pay.
All girt by the graces, thou comest to earth;
With joy and with music we welcome thy birth.
Oh! stay, thou sweet goddess, to brighten our life,
To banish our sorrows, to still every strife.
O Venus Urania! we call upon thee,
Inspirer of gladness, of ecstasy!

The singers were the multitude; the sound of the voices of the muses, or those who personified them, was lost in the thrilling greeting which that multitude gave to their favorite—Chione.

Dressed in a dazzling robe spangled with gold, crowned with rays so artificially disposed that they seemed to emit light as she was descending, Chione came forward as the Venus Urania of the Temple.

The throng hushed as she raised her arm to speak; among the thousands there, scarce a sound was heard; the very breathing was suppressed, for fear one tone of that eloquent voice should be unheard. "My friends," she began.

Suddenly a low, piercing wail broke upon the throng, like the moan of a distressed spirit, so unearthly was the sound. Again it rang through the echoes, under ground, over head. Chione started, and the throng was awed. Then, in the fearful silence, these words were heard. Distinctly they came forth, though uttered in a wild, unearthly cadence, as if they were spoken by one of another world:

Once for silver, now for gold,
Is the Lord of glory sold!
Woe, deep woe!
Judas went to his own place;
Nor shall time the sin efface.
He must every joy forego!
For ever, woe! [Footnote 27]

[Footnote 27: It is on record that, at the first preaching of the Gospel, numerous signs, sounds, and words were uttered in the pagan temples, at the times of worship, to the confusion of the multitudes therein assembled. I leave the fact as I found it, to the construction of my readers, each one for himself!]

Every heart was chilled; Chione paled and trembled. Magas sprang to her relief. "It is but a trick of your own devising; you are paid back in your own coin. Compose yourself, it is nothing." The crowd was too dense to allow a search to be made. There was a long pause, but at length Chione was called upon to proceed. Her theme was, "The Glory of Athens—of Athens, the Civilizer of the Nations."

The tremor which was still slightly apparent in the frame of the Venus Urania when led forward by Magas, (now habited as Apollo, that he might consistently bear a part in the scene, and watch over any demonstration that should again affect the goddess he worshipped with so intense a devotion,) gave an increased interest to her appearance; the look of appeal she seemed to cast over that mighty throng, as if to claim protection from some invisible enemy of her peace, imparted an additional tenderness to the sympathies of the audience. Chione regained her courage, as she inhaled the moral atmosphere that surrounded her; she forced back the unwelcome shades of thought that had been called from their tombs, where she intended them to lie buried for ever. She gazed around. The scene at the back of the stage had been changed. The citadel of Athens had been introduced, and hovering above it was Minerva, the tutelary divinity of the place. Chione was evidently surprised; perhaps again she suspected an interruption; but Magas whispered, "By my command," and she at length made a gesture, as if to begin. There was, however, a marked change in her inspiration; she was no longer the commanding genius of the temple. It was evident to all that she was under some irrepressible, some irresistible influence. Magas looked anxious; his whole soul was bound up in Chione's success. She was his pride, his glory, his Aspasia, his Sappho. Never yet had he known her to fail; and he watched her words as if his very life depended upon them. She commenced:

"Athenians, you have asked me to speak to you of the glory of our city. Behold it! Wisdom is watching over its citadel. The glorious Minerva, issuing from the head of the immortal father of gods and men, presides over the welfare of Athens—has ever presided over it! This is our crown, this our glory. The history of this our Athens, is unlike the history of any other city in the world; for it forms a chain of glory, a long-continued tissue of renown. Her history is, a web of varied dyes, introducing characters of every degree of virtue, talent, heroism, or nobility.

"Time was, Athenians, that this beautiful land, now covered with fertile fields and richly ornamented villas; now the splendid resort of intelligence, philosophy, and science—time was, that Athens, the enlightened, the refined, the artistic; Athens, whose works of beauty will supply all time with models; Athens, whose pathways throughout the whole region round, even to the Piraeus, are adorned with statues of her illustrious sons—the poets, painters, warriors, and statesmen she has produced; Athens, within whose citadel arises the Parthenon, which would itself be the wonder of the world, were not that wonder exhausted on beholding the gigantic statue of our tutelary-goddess which it contains; time was, that Athens was a drear and sandy waste, the resort of savages who knew not the use of fire—who were clothed in skins, and lived on roots and acorns. [Footnote 28] But Minerva looked with complacency on the spot she had selected for the dwelling-place of her chosen people. She sent Theseus to Attica, to clear the land from the pirates that infested it; to enact laws, and teach the uncultured men to submit to righteous rule. It was first the law of force, though not unmixed; for men unused to government must be coerced until their powers of mind expand; until they feel what lawful government can effect; until they know that lawlessness is not true liberty. But not long was Athens ruled by one. Athenae, Queen, who loves this citadel, had other views. Her chosen city was to bear the glorious palm of an enlightened freedom.

"A deed unparalleled in the annals of nations occurred. Codrus, her king, inspired by that sublime divinity who hath care of Athens, devoted himself to destruction, that the favored city of Minerva might be saved. Codrus died! more sublime in his death than the loftiest monarch ever was in life. Who does not bow before the shade of Codrus? Who does not feel that, by his patriotism, his disinterestedness, his heroism, he laid the foundation of his country's greatness?

His death—our life!

"Bear with me; I must pause a moment here."

Music filled up that pause; but music so solemn, so grand, that the audience felt as if the spirit of the mighty dead were hovering over them. Chione resumed:

"To so great a hero, it was impossible to find a worthy successor! 'Man is not fit for irresponsible power. Too commonly he uses it but to give the reign to his own passions, while he represses in his subjects the development of those lofty qualities of soul which distinguish man from the brutes that scour our plains. No other king ever wielded the sceptre in Athens; for Minerva intended that a people should be formed, and not a single individual. She wished a body of men to rise to greatness, not a crowned monarch to acquire renown by the extirpation of millions.

"Athenae loved her children, and she gave them a law-giver whose first act relieved the poor of their burdens; released them from the oppression of the rich. Solon knew that the poor are the sinews of a nation; he knew too, that there is a point in which the crushing power of debt destroys the qualities that form the man, the free-man so dear to wisdom; and Athens shook off this oppression beneath his righteous sway. The laws of Solon shall be honored as long as rectitude itself is honored, because they recognize that principle of individual development which alone can form a great people. Particular modes of bringing out this principle may change, may pass into other modes; but the principle itself is eternal, it is worthy of Solon, worthy of the descendant of the immortal Codrus; it was a direct inspiration of that wisdom which has so unweariedly watched over the formation of the Athenian people.

"Such a principle was it to which we owe the sages and the heroes that adorn our annals. What heart does not thrill on hearing the name of Miltiades, of Themistocles, of Cimon, or Aristides? Who does not glow with rapture at beholding the works of Phidias, of Praxiteles, Apelles? Who can study with Anaxagoras, converse with Socrates, or speculate with Plato and Aristotle, nor feel the divine inspiration communicated to themselves? Who can read the annals of Xenophon and Thucydides, without feeling proud that he himself is a citizen of Athens; and which of us has not wept tears of ecstatic emotion at beholding a tragedy of Euripides or of Sophocles? What country in the world could ever boast of such a galaxy of celebrated names?

"Tell me not that these men were not all of Athenian origin. What if some few of them first saw the light in some other city than that of Athens. Not the less to Athens do they owe their genius and their fame; none the less from her did they receive their inspiration, their culture, and development. The influence of Athens is not limited to her own domain. Her great men live for ever to kindle thoughts of greatness throughout the world. Many far distant, both in time and space, will, to endless ages, love to muse with Pericles on the banks of the Ilissus, while he is planning those exquisite creations which have linked his name with all that is sublime and beautiful in human art. Many will rejoice with him as gently he sinks to rest, sustained by the sublime consciousness that, during the whole of his long career, he had never caused an Athenian to shed a tear.

"His career was for humanity, and in this he resembled Athens; for unlike the vulgar glory that crowns the conqueror's arms, the boast of Athens is that, although so many deeds of prowess attest the heroic valor of her children, yet never, never did she enter on an aggressive war for the mere sake of conquest, for the vain-glorious motive of adding by injustice another territory to her own. No, Athens has shed her benefits abroad; has made known to the nations all the virtues of the earth. She has proved herself capable of great acts, alike in war as in peace. Her genius is godlike, it is diffusive. The very site Minerva chose for her citadel betokens this destiny. Athens is compelled by circumstance to seek by peaceful commerce the corn necessary for her subsistence. The goddess gave her the honey of Hymettus, the Pentelic marble, and the silver mines of Laurion, that her eloquence might be sweet, her courage firm, and her commerce gainful; but she denied her corn, that corn which is the nutriment of the body, that, by fetching it from foreign lands, she might, in doing so, communicate to the world those sublime ideas which form the nobler nutriment of the soul.

"Thus is it that wisdom is the glory of Athens; it explains the history of the past; it affords a key to our present position.

"The mighty genius of force now bestrides the nations; it keeps down the surging emotions of half-savage men; itself, with its stoical insensibility to beauty, with its gladiatorial slaughters, betokening that it is hardly yet emerged from barbarism. Is this constrained calm to effect no purpose in the decrees of wisdom? Examine, and you will find that the glory of Athens is still increasing, even under a supposed subjection. [Footnote 29]

[Footnote 29: The Romans, out of reverence to letters, left to Athens a nominal freedom a long time after they had virtually subjugated her. It was not till the reign of Severus that her civilization was crushed. Chione is supposed to speak one hundred and fifty years before that period.]

"The nominal dependent refines and civilizes her conqueror. The wisdom of Athens, which, confined within its own narrow domain, could but have enlightened the inhabitants of a few cities, is now spreading over the entire earth; the words of its sages are instructing our haughty rulers; the myths of our poets are civilizing Rome. This, then, is the glory of Athens; and such glory must needs be eternal. Lands may change owners, and physical force give a momentary, a seeming nobility to a barbarian; but mind is immortal! the empire of ideas lasts for ever. Thus is Athens the civilizer of the nations.

"Sons of Athens! heirs of the philosophic ages! children of the poets! to you I need not explain how the beautiful devices which surround us are types of a higher knowledge—how many a glorious idea lies hidden under the name Minerva. The veiled Isis of Egypt, upon whose statue was inscribed, 'I am all that has been, all that shall be, and none among mortals has ever yet lifted my veil,' was, as you know, but another form of our loved Deity. Wisdom must preside at every institution designed to last. The precepts of Anaxagoras, the reveries of the divine Plato, alike instruct us in the eternity of ideas. Truth goes by different names upon this earth; it is represented by the nations under different myths, according to the conception men form of it. It requires a high intellect to contemplate truth in the abstract; to most minds it is simplified, endowed with power by being personified; hence our worship. Isis in Egypt, in Athens becomes Minerva; the veil, if not lifted, is at least rendered more transparent; and it may be that the time of its lifting is at hand. Portents of wondrous power are working in men's hearts; the principle of development evolved in Athens is becoming spread over the earth. Let us take courage. Athens is still at the head of civilization; it remains with her children that she so continue.

"Three words are awakened within my breast, [Footnote 30]
While dwelling on Athena's story;
Three words are a key unlocking the rest,
Illustrating Attica's glory.
These words proceed from no outward cause,
Within us they write their immortal laws.
"Man was created all free, all free,
Chains seen at his birth were never;
Believe it, in spite of the enmity
And folly of men put together.
I fear not the slave who has broken his chain,
'Tis the Godlike resuming his own again.
"And Virtue is more than an empty call.
It may guidance and practice be.
Though man may stumble, and totter, and fall,
He may strive for divinity.
And what unto reason doth seem unreal.
Full oft, to the child-like, doth Wisdom reveal.
"For a God doth exist; and a Holy Will
Is there still, though the human will palters;
Over time, over space, the high thought floateth still.
All glowing with life that ne'er falters;
While all things move round in unceasing change,
That spirit breathes peace through the heavenly range.
"Oh! guard well these words within every breast,
For on them rests Attica's glory;
Proclaim and observe them, with increasing zest,
They're the keys of Athena's story.
No man can e'er forfeit his inward worth.
While wisdom within to these words giveth birth."

[Footnote 30: The German student will here recognize that this song is an imitation, or rather a translation adapted to the subject of Schiller's "Drei Worte neun' ich Euch, inhaltschwer." The infidelity of Chione, like that of modern times, does not hesitate to avail itself of truths learned from Christianity, when such truths can adorn their unsound philosophy; in fact, the truth that is in it, saves their theory; error cannot stand of itself.]

Chione ceased. She had not shone as she was wont to do; she felt conscious that in palliating paganism to please the audience, she was paltering with her own conscience. When she proposed first to speak her address, she had intended to give a synopsis of the philosophy and poetry of Greece, and to avoid mythology; but the words she had heard had embittered her spirit, rendered it defiant; and half-angrily, half-sarcastically, had she uttered the sentiments we have recorded. There was not, however, the mesmeric sympathy between her and the assembled crowd that was wont to produce electric bursts of enthusiasm, albeit they agreed with the sentiments expressed. Her own enthusiasm had been quelled before commencing; she could not then communicate what she did not possess. But it had been previously arranged that she was to be crowned; she had been invited there for that purpose; therefore the figure representing Minerva ceased to hover in the air, came forward, and, to very sweet music, placed the crown on Chione's head.

Beauty, crowned by Wisdom's hand,
Reigns triumphant in the land.
Her scented dower
Is music linked to poesy,
In tones of heavenly harmony,
Attuned to earth's necessity by Eloquence,
bright power!

The pause that succeeded was filled up with throwing of bouquets and shouts of congratulation. When a lull came, and Chione was about to give a parting salute to the spectators, these words came distinctly to her ear, though in so low a tone that they were inaudible to any but herself and those close to her:

Earth's crown of glory is a crown of thorns;
Such the Saviour's head adorns,
Who died for thee.
Crowned with thorns, for thee he bled.
On the cross his life-blood shed.
All for thee!

Chione became very pale; she attempted to come forward, but fell back in the arms of her attendants; she had fainted.

Translated From The French.
The Unity Of The Human Race.

This is one of a series of popular discourses given at the Imperial Asylum of Vincennes, France, by A. de Quatrefages, member of the Institute, and Professor of Natural Science. After some preliminary remarks to his audience, he proceeds to the question, What is man? "It is not difficult to perceive that man is neither a mineral nor a vegetable, neither a plant nor a stone. But is he an animal? Not likely, when we reflect upon all his attributes.

"None of you would like to be compared to those animals who feed on grass, to the hog who wallows in the mire, nor to the dog, in whom man has found the qualities of both friend and companion; nor further, to the horse, though he were as celebrated as the famous Gladiator.

"Man is not an animal. He is distinguished above the brute creation by numerous and important attributes. We have only to consider his intellectual capacity, the power of articulation, which gives to every people a special language, the capacity to write, which reproduces language; the aid of the fine arts, to explain and materialize the conceptions of his imagination. He is also distinguished above animals by two fundamental characters which belong solely to him. Man is the only organized and living being who has the abstract sentiment of both good and evil, the only being in whom there exists a moral sense, the only one who believes in a future state, and who recognizes the existence of beings superior to himself, having influence upon him for good or evil. It is this two-fold conviction which grasps and holds the great truths which are called religion.

"At a later period I will return to these two questions of morality and religion, not as a theologian, but as a naturalist. At present I limit myself to this fact, that man, however savage he may be, shows signs of morality and religion that are not found in any animal. Consequently, man is a being apart, separated from animals by two great distinctions which are his own, and also by his incontestable superiority. There the difference ceases. With regard to his body, man is nothing more or less than an animal. Apart from some differences of form and disposition, he is no more than equal to the superior animals that surround us. If we take for comparison those that assimilate to our general form, anatomy shows us that our organs are the same as theirs; we find in them muscle for muscle, nerve for nerve, that is found in man himself. Physiology, in turn, has demonstrated that, in the body of man, the organs, the muscles, the nerves, have the same animal functions.

"This fact is indisputable, taken from a purely scientific and practical view. We cannot experiment upon man, but it is possible to do so upon animals. Human physiology employs the means to enlighten us upon our organic functions. Physicians have carried to the sick-bed the result of their investigations upon animal life. Anthropology also, we shall see, has derived useful lessons from beings who are essentially our inferiors. Anthropology should descend still lower than animals to enlighten us thoroughly. Vegetables are not animals any more than animals are men; but man, animals, and vegetables are linked together in the same living organization. By this only, they are distinguished from the minerals, which are neither the one nor the other, and by certain general facts known to all.

"All organized beings have a limited duration, all are created small and weak, all grow and become strong; during a part of their existence, all decrease in energy and vitality, sometimes also in size, then die. During life, all organized beings have need of nourishment. Before dying, all produce, either by a seed or by an egg, (I speak of species, not individuals,) which is true of the species that seem to come directly from a shoot, a layer, or a graft; all proceed from a grain, or an egg. Thus, all these great phenomena, common to all living organized beings, including man as well as plants, suppose a general law for their government. Science confirms this conclusion every day, which is not an invention of reasoning alone, but is regarded as an experienced fact. Further explanations are not necessary to show the magnificent result.

"How admirable, that man and the smallest insect, that the lord of the soil and the smallest plant, are attached one to the other, by the same links, and that the entire living creation forms together a perfect harmony!

"In this communion, and in certain phenomena of this accordance with certain laws, equally common, there results one consequence upon which I would not too strongly insist. Whatever may be the questions relating to man, that we have to examine whenever these touch upon any one of the phenomena that are common to all living organized beings, we must not only investigate animal life, but also vegetable life, if we would wish to find the truth.

"When one of these questions is proposed, what can we truthfully urge in reply? We must examine man under the general laws that govern other living organized beings. If the investigation tends to make man an exception to these general laws, we shall know it is false. If you resolve the problem so as to include man in the general laws, you may be sure that you are scientific and correct. With these proofs, and these only, I proceed to the second question of anthropologists. Are there several species of men, or does there exist but one, comprising several races?

"Some explanations are necessary. Examine the designs before you, and you will discover the principal varieties exhibited in the human type. You have there individuals from all parts of the world; you see that they differ considerably in color, some in their hair, others in their size, or in their peculiar features. It behooves us to ascertain if the differences that present themselves in these human groups are those of species, or if they merely indicate the existence of races belonging to the same species.

"In order to reply to this question, you must ascertain the true significance of the words species and race. The result of the discussion depends upon these two words. Unhappily, they are often confounded and badly defined, and we become enveloped in mystery when we wish to consider them more closely. Let us then form a precise idea before entering into otherwise profitless details.

"None of you certainly confound the horse with the ass; though the horse may be no larger than the dogs of Newfoundland, or though the ass should attain the size of an ordinary horse—for example, the large asses of Poitou. You will immediately say they are different species. You will say the same if you place a dog and a wolf side by side.

"We call by the one name of dogs the different types, such as the spaniel, the greyhound, the lap-dog, the Newfoundland, the King Charles; and we are right. However, if we were to judge by the eyes only, and even after more minute observations, there is between the dogs I have named greater differences of color, proportion, and size, than between the horse and the ass. The latter have certainly more similarity between them than the types of dogs I have named.

"If I should place a black and a white water-spaniel side by side, you would call them both spaniels, though of a different color. When we examine vegetables, it is the same thing; a red and a white rose are equally roses; pears that are sold two for a penny, are the same species as those sold at twenty cents each.

"Without any doubt you have arrived at the exact conclusion of the naturalists; like them, you have resolved the questions of species and race, which at first sight seemed, for the reasons I have given, more or less confused.

"These examples fully prove that popular observation and common sense are in many things fully as reliable as the investigations of science. Were such deductions generalized into scientific language, I feel sure there would be found few if any mistakes.

"These investigations prove that animals and vegetables vary within certain limits. The dog remains but a dog, whatever may be his general form, color, or his shape. The pear is but a pear, whatever may be its flavor or the color of its skin. It is from these facts that I am led to believe that variations can be transmitted through generations. The union of two spaniels produces spaniels, the union of two mastiffs produces mastiffs. Thus, in a general manner, the result is, that beings of the same species can cease to resemble each other absolutely; moreover, take exteriorly different characters, without isolating or forming different species; as I have said, the dog remains a dog, whatever may be the modifications he presents. These are precisely the groups formed by individuals which we have spoken of as the remote primitive types of species that have formed distinct secondary groups, which naturalists call races.

"You will understand, then, what is meant in speaking of the races of beeves, horses, etc. We have domesticated but one kind of beeves, which have generated the Breton race, the great beeves of Uri, of such savage aspect, and also the gentle Durhams. We have but one kind of domestic horse, and this has given us the pony, as well as the enormous horses that are seen in the streets of London, commonly used by the brewers; finally, the several races of sheep, goats, etc., belong to one and the same species. I place this assemblage of proof vividly before you to avoid vagueness in your investigations, which would be attended with serious mistakes. I will now cite examples from the vegetable kingdom, which will be as familiar to you as the foregoing.

"Let us take the coffee-tree. Its history is quite interesting. The coffee-tree was originally from Africa. It has from time immemorial been cultivated in Abyssinia, on the borders of the Red Sea. It was not until toward the fifteenth century that the seed migrated from this sea and penetrated into Arabia, where it has been cultivated since that epoch. It is from there in particular that we get the famous Mocha. The use of coffee became common immediately. From the east it was introduced into Europe at a later period, and it was at Marseilles that it was used for the first time in France.

"The first cup of coffee that was drank in Paris, was in the year 1667. A few grains were brought over by a French sailor called Thevenot. Two years after, Soliman Aga, ambassador of the Porte, under Louis XIV., gave an entertainment to some friends of the king, where it was introduced, and the beverage pronounced delightful. The use of coffee, however, did not become general in France until the eighteenth century. You see, then, that coffee has not been very long in use. It was almost a century and a half before it became general among Europeans.

"During this time Europe became tributary to Arabia for this luxury. All the coffee that was used in Europe came from Arabia, and particularly from Mocha. Toward the beginning of the eighteenth century the Dutch tried to import it to Batavia, one of their Indian colonies. They succeeded. From Batavia, some plants were sent to Holland, and planted in heated earth. This also proved a success.

"One of these plants was carried to Paris in 1710, and was placed in one of the beds of the Jardin des Plantes. It flourished, and supplied numberless plants. Toward 1720 or 1725, a French marine officer named Captain Destiaux, thought that, as Holland had cultivated coffee in Batavia, it could also be acclimated in the French colonies in the Gulf of Mexico. At the moment of embarking for Martinique he took three plants from the Jardin des Plantes, and carried them with him. The voyage was long and impeded by head-winds. Water becoming scarce, it became necessary to put the crew upon short rations. Captain Destiaux, like the others, had but a small allowance for each day, and this he shared with his coffee-plants. Notwithstanding all his care, two of them died in their transit. One only arrived safe and sound at Martinique. Planted immediately, it prospered wonderfully, and from it have descended all the coffee-trees in the Antilles, and in South-America.

"Thirty years after, our western colonies exported millions of pounds each year. You see that the plant, starting from Africa, reached the east, the extremity of Asia, then America and the west. It has consequently made almost the tour of the world. In this long passage it has changed.

"Laying aside the plant that we are not familiar with, let us take merely the grain. It is not necessary to be a planter to distinguish its different qualities and their provinces. No one will confound the Mocha with the Bourbon, the Rio Janeiro with the Martinique. Each grain carries in its form, in its proportions and aroma, its extraction, so to speak.

"From whence came these changes? We cannot certainly explain the why or the wherefore, and follow rigorously the relation of cause and effect; but in taking these phenomena together, it is evident that these modifications result from the differences of temperature, climate, and cultivation.

"This example, taken from the vegetable kingdom, shows us that by transporting the same vegetable to different places, and subjecting it to different culture, diverse races are obtained.

"Tea that was transported to South America several years since presents the same results.

"Now take an example from among the animals. You know that the turkey is a native of America. Its introduction into Europe is quite recent.

"In America the turkey is wild; and there, in the condition of its natural existence, it presents several characteristics which distinguish it from the domestic bird. The wild turkey is beautiful. Of a rich brown color, its plumage presents the reflections of blue, copper, and gold, making it truly a beautiful ornament. It was on account of its plumage that it was first brought to France. No one dreamed of eating it, and the first one that was served upon a table in France, was in the year 1570, and upon the occasion of the nuptials of King Charles IX.

"When found to be such a luxury, it was considered too good to be merely looked at, and it passed from the court to the farm-yard, from farm to farm, from east to west, from north to south. At this present time it is an article of commerce all over France.

"In going from farm to farm, and from country to country, this bird has sustained different conditions of existence, nourishment, and temperature, but never a continuation of its primitive condition that was natural to it in America. The result is, that it has changed, and at this present time the turkey in France bears no resemblance to its savage source. In general, it is smaller, and its rich plumage has undergone a marked change. Some are yellow, others white, some mixed with black, gray, and yellow. Almost all the localities devoted to raising the fowl have caused several new varieties, which have transformed them into races.

"To have thus changed their habits so as to lose resemblance to their first parents, are our French fowls any the less descendants of the wild turkeys of America? Are they less the brothers, or cousins, if you like the term better? Have they ceased to be of the same species? Certainly not!

"That which is characteristic of the turkey is also true of the rabbit. The wild rabbit lives around and about us, on our downs, and in our woods. It resembles our domestic rabbits but little. Among the latter you will see the large and the small, the smooth-haired and the silky; the black and the white, the yellow and the gray, and the mixed. In a word, this species comprises a great number of different races, all constituting one and the same kind with the wild races we see around us. From these facts, which I could multiply, we can deduce an important consequence to which I call your attention. A pair of rabbits left unmolested in a field, would, in a few years, people entire France with their descendants. We have seen how the single coffee-plant, carried by Captain Destiaux, has propagated all the plants now found in America.

"The wild turkeys and their domestic descendants, the wild rabbits and theirs, reduced to captivity, could then be considered by naturalists as all proving equally their descent from one primitive pair.

"This is the secret of species. Having always before our eyes numbers of single groups of animals or vegetables, for one reason or other we hardly consider them as descendants of one only primitive pair; we call what we see a species; if there are differences observable among these groups, they are the races of this species.

"Observe that, in my explanations, I have not given for a certainty the existence of one primitive source for rabbits and turkeys. I do not affirm the fact, as neither observation nor experience—the two guides we must follow in science—teaches anything in this regard. I simply say, all are as though descended from one only primitive pair.

"In summing up the question of species and race, it is not difficult to understand nor to believe, when we know the savage type, and have historical authority which permits us to attach to this type the groups, more or less different, according to their domestication. But when we are ignorant of the savage type, and in want of historical authority, the question becomes extremely difficult at first, because the differences we find in one and the other, and above all, in the different groups, could hardly be considered other than such as characterize different species.

"Happily, physiology comes then to our relief. We find in this science one of those grand and beautiful general laws, which holds and maintains the established order, and which we admire the more we study it. It is the law of crossing, which governs animals as well as vegetables, and is, consequently, applicable to man himself.

"We understand by the term crossing, all unions effected between animals belonging to different species or to two different races. The result of the unions obeying these laws is, that if the animals of different species unite, in the majority of cases the union is barren.

"Thus, for example, it has been tried a million of times all over the world, to effect a union between rabbits and hares. It is said to have succeeded twice.

"Much doubt is cast upon this operation by the testimony of a man of undoubted talent, habituated to experiments, who believed these unions to be possible. Though availing himself of all possible means of proof, he was not more fortunate than his predecessors, Buffon and the brothers Geoffrey St. Hilaire. Thus, the rabbit and the hare, though presenting a great conformity in appearance, cannot reproduce. Such is the general result of crossing two different species.

"In a few cases, the union between two different species may be fruitful, but the offspring cannot reproduce. For example, the union between a horse and an ass. The product of this union is the mule. All the mules in the world are the descendants of the ass and the mare. These animals are so numerous in Spain and South America that they are preferred to horses, on account of their great strength and powers of endurance. The genet, which is less desirable because it is not so robust, is the fruit of the inverse crossing of the horse and the female ass. The genet, no more than the mule, can reproduce. If one or the other is desired, of necessity recourse is had to the two species. In extremely rare cases, fecundity remains among some of their descendants, but it diminishes gradually from the second generation down to the third, fourth, and fifth. The same result is shown in the union of the canary bird. I could here accumulate a crowd of analogous details. Above all, two great general facts appear that comprehend all, and are the expression of the law; they are that, notwithstanding the accumulated observations of years, made from experiments on certain species, not a single example is known of an intermediate species being obtained by the crossing of animals belonging to two different species.

"This general fact explains how order is maintained in the actual living creation. Were it otherwise, the animal and vegetable world would have been filled with intermediate groups, passing from one to the other insensibly, and in the confusion, it would be impossible for naturalists to recognize them. The general conclusion to draw from these precedents is, that infecundity is the law of union between animals of different species.

"Unions are always more fruitful when between two animals of the same race. Their descendants are as fruitful as the parents and the grandparents, where pains are taken to preserve the race pure, and to prevent strange blood from debasing it.

"When, on the contrary, a union is effected between two different races belonging to the same species, producing a mongrel race, the contrary takes place.

"There is no difficulty in obtaining a mongrel race—the result of a crossing of races; but the difficulty is when there is a pure race, and it is desirable to have it maintained, that great care is needed to prevent strange blood from changing it.

"Races crossed by mongrels—that is to say, by animals of the same species, but belonging to different races, multiply around us. There are the dogs in the streets, the cats of the alleys, the coach-horses; all beasts among whom the race is undecided in consequence of crossing indiscriminately, their characteristics becoming confounded.

"Far from endeavoring to obtain cross races, men who are occupied in raising stock, also bird-fanciers, know with what care they endeavor to preserve the purity of the races they keep. This is the general fact, and the result is, that infecundity is the law of unions between animals belonging to different races.

"This is the fundamental distinction between species and race. This distinction ought to be the more known and considered, as it is borrowed from experience.

"When there are two animals, or two vegetables, of whom we are uncertain as to whether they are two distinct species, we have but to observe if their union is fruitful; and if this quality attaches to their descendants, we can then affirm that, despite the differences that separate them, they are the races of the same species. If, on the contrary, their offspring diminishes in a remarkable manner at the end of several generations, we can then, without hesitation, declare them to belong to distinct species. In citing these examples, I have not overlooked the subject of my discourse, or the question at its commencement.

"In referring to the designs before our eyes, they show us that between the human groups the differences are marked enough, though to all appearance less considerable than they appeared at first. We do not know the types, or the primitive types, of the several groups.

"When we meet with one or several men presenting the characteristics of these types, and we cannot recognize them in spite of historical explanations, we are led to judge by our eyes. Without taking man himself into account, we cannot decide if these several differences that present themselves in the human family are those of race or of species; if man can be considered as having had but one primitive source only, or if he should have been derived from several primitive sources.

"I have said before, and repeat again, man is an organized and living being. Under this head he obeys all the general laws to which are attached all organized and living beings; he obeys, consequently, the law of crossing. He must then apply this law to ascertain if there is one or several species of men. Take, for example, the two types farthest removed—those which seem more separated than the others by the greatest differences—namely, the white and the black.

"If these types really constitute distinct species, the union between these species should follow the proof that we have seen characterize the unions between animals, and vegetables, of different species. They should be unfruitful in the majority of cases, or nearly so. Fecundity should disappear at the end of a short period, and they could not form intermediate families between the negroes and the whites. If these are only the races of one and the same species, then unions, on the contrary, should be quite fruitful, and fecundity should be found among their descendants, and they should form intermediate races.

"These facts are decisive, and admit of no doubt.

"For three centuries the whites, par excellence, the Europeans, have achieved, so to say, the conquest of the world. They have gone everywhere. Everywhere they have found local races who have borne them no resemblance. Whenever they have crossed with them, these unions have been fruitful; more so than with those indigenous to themselves.

"Man, from the result of the institution of slavery—which happily has never stained the soil of France—has transported the negro everywhere; everywhere he has crossed with his slaves, and everywhere they have formed a population of mulattoes. Wherever the negro has crossed with local groups or families, there has arisen an intermediate race, who in character manifest their two-fold origin. The whites have finally crossed with the mongrels of all origins, and the result is, that in certain quarters of the globe—particularly in South America—there is an inextricable mixture of people, comparable, under the class, to the dogs in our streets and the cats of our alleys.

"The rapidity with which these mongrel races cross and multiply is really remarkable. It is scarcely three centuries—hardly twelve generations—since Europeans penetrated into different parts of the world. It is estimated that already the number of mongrels resulting from the crossing of whites with natives, is a seventieth of the whole population of the globe. Experience is indisputable, if we even deny modern science, or at least, wish to make man an exception to all living and organized beings. We must admit that all men form but one species, composed of a certain number of different races; consequently, all men can only be considered as having descended from one primitive pair.

"We arrive at this conclusion in despite of all kinds of dogmatical, theological, philosophical, and metaphysical considerations. Observation and experience alone, applied to the animal and vegetable kingdoms, in a word, science, conducts us to the conclusion, there exists but one species of man.

"This result, I do not fear to say, is of great and serious importance; for it creates in our minds an idea of the universal fraternity of science and reason, the only schools that many persons recognize at this present time.

"I hope that my demonstrations will have convinced you; meanwhile, I am not ignorant, and you all know, that anthropologists differ. There are among my contemporaries a number of men, even of great merit, who believe in the plurality of the human species. You may possibly come into contact with them. Listen attentively, then, to the reasons they will urge to make you see with their eyes. You will find that their reasonings all tend to prove that there is too great a difference between the negro and the white for them to be of the same species. In reply, state that between the black and the white spaniel, the lap-dog and the mastiff, there exist greater differences than exist between the European and the African. Yet these animals are all dogs. They may argue, perhaps, that man, whatever may have been his characteristics, could not have generated both blacks and whites. Then ask why the wild turkey, whose origin, and that of its ancestors, we are acquainted with, and the wild rabbit, which we find everywhere, could have generated all our domestic races?

"We cannot, I repeat, explain perfectly the how and the wherefore; but what we know is, that the fact exists, and we shall find a general explanation in all states of existence—in all conditions of people.

"It is not, then, surprising that man presents, in the different groups, the differences herein depicted; man who trod the earth long before the turkey and the rabbit; man, who for centuries has existed upon the surface of the globe, submitting to the most diverse and opposite conditions of existence, multiplying again the causes of those modifications by his manners and habits, by his ways of living, by more or less care in his own preservation; man, finding himself in more marked and varied conditions than those sustained by the animals we have quoted. If anything surprises us, it is that the distinctions are not more considerable.

"In turn, ask the polygenists—as those savans are called who believe in the multiplicity of the human species—how it is that when the white man locates in any country, from the antipodes, if you will, or from America or Polynesia—that if he unites with the natives, who differ the most completely from him, these unions are fruitful, and that, above all, there remains traces of this alliance in producing a mongrel race?

"If you press the question more closely, you will find them denying the truth of species; by so doing, placing themselves in contradiction with all naturalists, botanists, or zoologists, without exception; consequently, with all the eminent minds who have followed in the wake of Buffon, Tournefort, Jussieu, Cuvier, and Geoffrey St. Hilaire, who made the animal and vegetable kingdoms their study, without discussion, or dreaming of its connection with man. In agitating these doctrines, polygenists place themselves in opposition to the most firmly established science. You will hear them declare that man, above all, is an exception; that he is guided by laws peculiar to himself; and that arguments deduced from the study of animals and plants, are not applicable to him. Then reply that, in the name of all the natural sciences, they are certainly in error, and that it is an impossibility that a living and organized being can escape the laws of organization and of life, having a body fortified against the laws that govern inorganic matter; that man, to be living and organized, obeys, under this title, all general laws, and those of intersection like all the others. The conclusion that we have attained is, then, legitimate, and the nature of the arguments employed to combat them, is a proof the more in its favor.