FOOTNOTES:
[E] Copyright, 1884, by Frances C. Sparhawk.
EDITOR'S TABLE.
Brutal and inhuman deeds are not changed in character or color by differences in latitude or longitude. The people of Quitman, Ga., committed a deed of this character when they put the torch of the incendiary to a school-house where ignorant colored children, in charity's sweet name, were being nurtured into nobler manhood and womanhood. This act of inhumanity, clearly inspired if not wholly sanctioned by a majority sentiment in the community, is not a solecism in history. In 1832-3, Prudence Crandall taught a successful school for girls in Canterbury, Conn., to which she admitted a colored girl, an intelligent church member, who desired to prepare herself to teach children of her own color. All Canterbury was thrown into a state of intense excitement and indignation by this act, and Miss Crandall had to choose between the expulsion of her colored pupil and the loss of her white ones. She pluckily faced the tumult, refused to sacrifice what she regarded as a principle, and her fashionable school opened its doors as an institution for colored girls only.
Increased excitement followed. A local politician, afterward a member of Congress, became the leader in a bitter and disgraceful prosecution of the brave woman, and, when they found it impossible to drive her from her position by ordinary measures, secured the passage of a law making it a crime to open a school for colored children without the consent of the selectmen of the town. The power of the State of Connecticut was thus invoked, and used for the crushing of one brave little Quakeress. Miss Crandall was arrested, and imprisoned in a cell from which a murderer had just gone to the gallows. Her case was tried in August, 1833. One jury failed to agree. Another found her guilty. The case was appealed, and proceedings quashed on the ground of an informality, the higher court thus evading the question raised as to the constitutionality of the law. An attempt to burn Miss Crandall's house followed, and on the night of Sept. 9, 1834, it was made untenantable under the assaults of a mob.
The subject of this bitter and relentless persecution, Mrs. Prudence (Crandall) Philleo, is still living, and tardy justice comes forward to recognize the wrong of a half century ago. The children of her persecutors unite with others in a petition to the lawmaking power which was induced to brand her as a criminal, to atone for past wrongs by present relief.
It is safe to say that the Canterbury of to-day would gladly blot from history this story of the Canterbury of a half century ago.
It is equally safe to say that the Quitman of fifty years to come (and much sooner) will gladly bury in oblivion the story of the burning school-house and frightened and helpless females and children, which the Quitman of to-day has put upon the page of current history.
There is a very patent moral to this "Canterbury tale." It reads about as follows: Twenty-five years after the Canterbury persecution, its repetition would have been an impossibility. Twenty-five years after the Quitman persecution—or any other acts, in any southern state, of like character—what?
Let us, who are only fifty years away from similar deeds at our own doors, go our way, doing the works of charity, humanity, patriotism, and wait and see.
For present wrongs atonement comes in bitter tears,
By children shed for deeds of sires in other years;
Brute passion rules but for a day, then hides its head,
And justice, born of love and mercy, rules instead.
Archdeacon Farrar, in a recent article in the North American Review, pays a tribute to the virtues of the founders of New England which has been rarely excelled in fervor of rhetoric and laudatory statement by the most gifted of after-dinner orators among the sons of Puritans and Pilgrims.
"Those virtues," he says, "gave to James Otis and to Patrick Henry the prophet's tongue of flame. They nerved the arm of Washington in battle, and kindled the embattled farmers to fire 'the shot heard round the world.' They kindled the eloquence of Phillips and the song of Longfellow. They gave to Abraham Lincoln the faith at whose bidding a hundred thousand men sprang to their feet as one—the faith which brightened the six and thirty stars round the forehead of liberty, and flung the broken fetters of the last slave beneath her feet. If the church keep the people in their allegiance to those awful virtues, America shall still be the enlightener of the nations, the beautiful pioneer in the vanguard of the progress of the world. But if she spread a table to Fortune, or enshrine Mammon above her altars, if her commerce become dishonest, and her press debased, and her society frivolous, and her religion a mere twilight of wilful and self-induced delusion—she in her turn shall fall like Lucifer, son of the morning, and the double oceans which sweep her illimitable shores shall only plash to future empires a more sad, a more desolate, and a more unending dirge."
We suspect that this eloquence is expressive not only of impartial admiration, but of the pride that is partial. The parties concerned have common interests in the matter of grandfathers.
The presidential message has met, as might have been anticipated, with a very varied reception from the great political parties, from the many-minded press, and from what may be designated the non-partisan or politically colorless section of the American people. Nor has it been more fortunate in securing unanimity of judgment as to its political merits and significance from the public organs which reflect with more or less precision and exactitude the opinions of the great community of nations on the other side the Atlantic. Party feeling, unless it be of a very enlightened, patriotic, and unselfish kind, is apt to breed the worst types of mental perversity, and give birth to paradoxes of the most startling character. And when a great national document, discussing matters vital to the well-being, prosperity and political advancement of the republic is declared by one influential paper to contain "no pregnant thought of statesmanship, no conspicuously original idea, no new issue to inspire discussion in Congress and among the people," and by another equally competent to frame a judgment to be "a model of good English, and forcible statement," while a third hesitates not to pronounce it "a message that will rank among the best documents of its kind," one naturally wonders what can be the cause of this curious conflict of sentiment; and after looking at the matter for a moment one is driven to the conclusion that the reference of the phenomenon to an invincible and uncompromising party sentiment is probably as scientific, comprehensive, and correct an explanation as any that can be thought of.
We are not disposed, however, to discuss the general merits of the recent message. We will only say that, in our opinion, the patriotic American citizen, whatever political party may enjoy his allegiance and support, will never have reason to complain—nay more—will never be without just occasion to feel proud of his country so long as she can produce a style of statesmanship, and a power of political exposition like those displayed by the present Chief Magistrate of the Republic.
One noteworthy excellence President Cleveland's message possesses, which has not excited as much remark as it deserves: we allude to the strenuous endeavor it exhibits to maintain, in spite of some recent difficulties, a peaceable and friendly attitude towards European nations, particularly Italy and Austria. It is not too much to hope that the conciliatory yet dignified tone and temper of the message in this regard may do something as a conspicuous example, to abate the war frenzy, and cool the morbid passion for "gunpowder and glory," which has been such a disturbing and dangerous element in European statesmanship and diplomacy for many years past, and is perhaps more menacing to the quiet of the world and the peaceful advancement of civilization at the present moment than at any period since the days of the first Napoleon. Occupying her proud and promising position between the two great oceans; commanding, as a consequence, these great highways of "commerce, trade and travel"; enjoying a stretch of territory which not only affords scope for unlimited development of her great resources in a hundred different directions, but also acts as a check to any passion that might arise for territorial annexation or conquest; separated from the older nations by thousands of miles, she can afford to regard with comparative indifference the exciting game of European politics, and contemplate the deep designs of jealous and jarring diplomatists without any fear that her own house may catch fire.
There is, after all, something deeply pathetic in the terrible necessity which exposes persons of wealth, culture and exalted station to the unpitying penalties of greatness. A lesson ever needed, ever present, and yet constantly disregarded and defied, has just received a new and somewhat startling illustration in the sudden death of the amiable daughter and much-beloved wife of Secretary Bayard. Can it be necessary that society should sacrifice its brightest ornaments, and literally do itself to death, in order to maintain its existence? "Come ye yourselves into a desert place, and rest a while," reveals a law of health and happiness as inexorable and exacting in its demands, and as universal in its sway and scope, as any at work in the frame of material nature. Let us learn the truth and value of this ancient hint over the tear-bedewed grave of Kate Bayard.
Still streams
Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird
That flutters least is longest on the wing.
The inevitable sequel of the English Parliamentary elections has come a little sooner than the twin foes of Lord Salisbury's ministry had ventured to anticipate. The "Constitutional" party, as English Toryism loves to style itself, has suffered signal and humiliating defeat, after a brief and precarious career of a few months; and the collapse is quite as complete as it is sudden. Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Parnell on the one hand, and the Marquis of Salisbury and Sir Michael Hicks-Beach on the other, must have been equally unprepared for what has happened. The Queen, caring not to conceal her political predilections, hesitated not to give her ostentatious approval and powerful endorsement to Tory management by consenting to open Parliament, as she had previously done for Lord Beaconsfield after his return from Berlin. A phenomenally large and brilliant assemblage of dukes, marquises, earls and viscounts, at Lord Salisbury's parliamentary dinner had made a similar attempt, a few days before, to awe and fascinate by a spectacle of pomp and pageantry the too impressionable Briton. Nothing has been omitted that could in any way buttress the insecure and tottering fabric of aristocratic power. But as the ancient sage shrewdly observed, dementation is the prelude of doom; "whom the gods destroy they first infatuate." The representatives of the nation have taken the earliest opportunity that offered itself of rebuking this formidable attempt to over-ride by an ill-advised and illegitimate use of the "favor of the sovereign" the definitely declared will of the British people. The last Parliament was exceptionally rich in the display of character, in humorous and dramatic incident, and in unrehearsed and unpremeditated scenes of every kind; but undoubtedly the most striking and startling of its scenes was that of the younger Tories, unexpectedly triumphant, hailing with frantic joy and exultation the fall of the Gladstone government. The event was a surprise to both sides of the House, a surprise all the greater as up to the very moment of the appearance of the "tellers" on the floor of the House, no one doubted that the ministry had sufficient strength and vigor to withstand the blow that was aimed at its life. "Lord Kensington," to quote the words of an eye-witness, "came in hurriedly with a face set into determined absence of expression, and sat down by Mr. Gladstone. A few moments more and the paper was handed to Mr. Winn (Conservative whip) amid the loudest outbreak of cheering that the House of Commons has heard for more than a generation. Wild with delight, Lord Randolph Churchill actually leapt on to the bench, waving his hat with the enthusiasm of a schoolboy. His friends clustered round him, caught at him, drew him down, but could not restrain him from the vehement expression of his delight. The example was contagious. The whole House to the left of the speaker roared and shouted and thundered and waved its hats and clapped its hands in a frenzy of general delight. Their hour at last had come, and the fate of the ministry was sealed." Alas for human short-sightedness! How sad a thing the much-vaunted triumph has proved after all.
In little more than seven months the power so greedily snatched at has slipped from their grasp like the shadow of a dream. "They laugh best who laugh last." To the aristocracy and land-owning class generally, both of England and Ireland, the fall of the Tory government will be a cause of apprehension. By the majority of the British public it will be welcomed. The Liberals, as a political party, will, for a time at least, feel embarrassed by the event, while the Parnellites will regard it—whether rightly or wrongly, time alone can tell—as another important step toward the ultimate success of their cause and the consummation of their hopes.
No one who heard the interesting address of the president of the Bostonian Society, Mr. Curtis Guild, at its fourth annual meeting, recently held at its rooms in the Old State House, Boston, could have failed to feel a renewed interest in American history, as especially emphasized by the preservation of interesting memorials.
This Society, the successor of the Boston Antiquarian Society, with a membership of between four and five hundred, is making itself felt in various ways in thus making practical the belief that a "visible relic of the past"—as Mr. Guild expressed it—-"tends to emphasize and strengthen an historic fact." He well illustrated this idea when he further said (and who that listened did not thrill with true patriotism?), "The walls that are about you are the self-same that existed at the time of the Boston Massacre; the windows the self-same openings—here, where the Declaration was read in 1776, and the Proclamation of Peace, in 1783; there, where Washington, in 1789, reviewed the procession in his honor. Within these very walls some of the greatest events of American history have occurred and the greatest and most notable men who figured in those events been gathered together."
Without doubt, this Old State House is the most genuine relic of the Revolution, now in existence. And the Society, in daily opening its rooms, with their historical possessions, free of charge, is offering to the public rare educational privileges which it should gratefully use and appreciate.
While the Bostonian Society is doing its special work of preserving historical objects and places from the hand of the ruthless destroyer, the Webster Historical Society, organized in 1878, is doing a parallel work in preserving for future generations the fame, work, and true spirit of America's foremost statesman and constitutional law-giver, Daniel Webster. Of course, such a work necessarily leads to a deep and practical interest in everything pertaining to America's political and national life to which the great man was so devoted. This Society, which has its headquarters in another old landmark of Boston, the Old South Meeting-House, has now a membership of twelve hundred, who are found in all parts of the country. The customary annual address, on the anniversary of Webster's birthday, January 18, is generally one of marked interest; notably so was the one of January, 1884; which, as afterwards published by the Society, was noticed by deep-thinkers, with perhaps more genuine interest than any other modern pamphlet of its size.[F] The address at the annual meeting of this year was given before a large and intelligent audience in the historic meeting-house by Rev. Thomas A. Hyde upon Daniel Webster as an orator. Mr. Hyde's special study of the physical, mental, and expressional qualities which go to make an orator gave weight to the address. The aims and purposes of the Webster Historical Society are such as to command the sympathetic help of all American citizens in whatever direction it may labor.
It is to the credit of American womanhood that the presiding mistress of the White House is one who, while she is making history, is so intelligently in sympathy with everything connected with it. Her sensible ideas of the subject as revealed in the chapter on History in her recently published book, "George Eliot's Poetry, and other Studies," indicate a mind capable of seizing the essential facts and seeing in them the divine spark. "We must take the event as a starting point, and travel from it to the man and men behind it." And again, "Let us realize that history is the shrine of humanity, humanity essential in its essence in past, present, future, wherein is stored the ego—the thou and the I."
She gives another thought worthy to be quoted and read by itself.
"Nowhere more than in the study of history is it needful to 'put yourself in his place'—i. e., to carry to the making of an image of the person whose form you seek to confront, those general and common ingredients which go to make up each man. When you have carried to him that much of yourself which is common to you both, you will, by this, be qualified to detect that in him which is himself strictly and not yourself; and so to a man you will add the individuality of the man and have what you seek.... Nowhere more than in history does it 'take a thief to catch a thief.'"
Miss Cleveland illustrates this in some essays which follow, where she carries herself back to "Old Rome and New France," to Charlemagne, to Joan of Arc, and other suggestive epochs.
In her essay on "Old Rome and New France," Miss Cleveland calls the Middle or Dark Ages, the Twilight Age. "It seems to me," she says, "that this period is not suggestively named when called the Middle Ages, nor accurately named when called the Dark Ages, but that both suggestion and accuracy combine in that view which denominates it as a Twilight Age. An idea which certainly embodies much of truth."