All of which, and more, may be found in Edwards’s Chancery Reports, vol. iii., p. 109.
PAST AND PRESENT.
Within the past twelve years, a new generation of readers has grown up in the United States—a generation far outnumbering its predecessor, and the circulation of the journal published by the Harper Brothers has increased immensely. The great body of its readers of to-day are profoundly impressed with a sense of its unvarying and undying patriotism, and it probably never occurs to the soldier who, when a mere boy, shouldered his musket in defence of the Union, that his now furiously patriotic Harper’s Weekly was originally, and as long as it was found to pay, the advocate of secession and the apologist of slavery. How sadly true this is, we propose to show by presenting the results of our examination into
THE JOURNAL IN THE HOUR OF TRIAL.
On opening the volume of the Weekly for the year 1861, we felt quite confident of finding an admirably executed
full-length picture of the then President-elect of the United States, and confess to some disappointment when, instead thereof, occupying the entire first page, we discover portraits of “The Georgia Delegation in Congress,” followed by sketches highly laudatory of the seven gentlemen composing the delegation. The same number makes calm and commentless record of “The South Carolina Proclamation of Independence,” and the spread of secession through the South.
January 12, 1861.—Under the heading “The Great Southern Movement,” the publishers “beg to draw attention to the following list of illustrations of the Pending Revolution,” such unseemly words as rebellion and treachery being left to the unprincipled Abolition papers of that day. In the same number we have “The Revolution at Charleston” in cuts of “Anderson at Sumter” and “The Charleston Militia taking Fort Pickens”—thus making a nice balance. Doubtless the Lincoln portrait will come in our next number.
Why, what are these? Portraits and laudatory notices of Governor Pickens, Honorable Judge McGrath, and “Rev. Dr. Bachman, who asked a blessing on the Secession Ordinance,” the signing of which, according to the fervid account cited from a Charleston paper, was a scene “profoundly grand and impressive”; there were “patriarchs in age—the dignitaries of the land—the high-priests of the church of Christ—reverend statesmen—and wise judges of the law”—in the midst of whom “the President advanced with the consecrated parchment”—which holy document was the ordinance of secession. We continue turning leaf after leaf with but slight edification—Skating Park—Old Fashions—Humors of the Day—Rarey the Horse
Tamer—Love Story—etc. Pleasant reading for people sitting over a volcano.
January 26 gives us “The Prayer at Sumter,” a drop of mournful comfort. Then an editorial, “Wanted, a Capital.” It opens impressively: “Some practical people, viewing the dissolution of the Union as a fixed fact,[148] and assuming that all or nearly all the Border States will go with their Southern slave sisters, are already casting about in search of a new capital.” The vigorous patriotism of this idea is strengthened by a sweet allegory, in a column of small type, entitled “John Ardens and James Placens.” You see the delicate joke in the mild Latin? Ardens is a fiery fellow, who absurdly insists on having what he is entitled to. Placens is a gentleman, a practical philosopher, who very sensibly submits to any imposition on pocket or principle for the sake of peace. The placid moral is, “In things indifferent yield rather than quarrel.” Logically enough, two pages further on we have “The Firing on the Star of the West,” as a mere passing incident of the day. Meantime Fort Sumter does heavy duty on the illustrated pages, and is served up without intermission, from sea, from land, by day, by night, en barbette, en côtelette, and in every other conceivable way.