Clouds and sunshine
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ]CLOUDS AND- SU NT S HI NE. I. BY ,THE AUTHOR OF MUSINGS OF AN INVALID, FUN AND EARNEST, FANCIES R PRODUCED FROM THE -COPY IN THE HENRY E. HUNTINGTON LIBRARY OF A WHIMSICAL MAN, &c. ) FOR REFERENCE ONLY. NOT FOR REPRODUCTION A I N EW-YOR K : J OH N S. T A.Y L OR, 17 ANN-STREET. p '1 8 5 3. I page: 0[View Page 0] Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by JOHN S. TAYLOR, In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New-York. TO M Y F RI E ND A-ND K I N SMA N, R U S SE LL H . N E V INS, TIS LITTLE BOOK AFFECT~IONA TEL Y INSCRIBED. JOHN J. REED, PRINTER, 16, Spruce-street. 4 I t page: 0Table of Contents-5[View Page 0Table of Contents-5] CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. Page. 5 INTRODUCTION, .- CONVERSATION I., -- CONVERSATION II., - CONVERSATION III., - CONVERSATION IV., - CONVERSATION V.,.. CONVERSATION VI.,- - - 13 - - 38 - - 159 - -207 INTRIO DIUTCT I ON. THANKSGIVING DAY. WELCOME to this dear old festival!I Again, with cordal sauaondwgetis cmn. May it be kept through all time ! May it be set apart, dedicated ever as .now, to holy thoughts, and hymns of gratitude, and deeds of love ! And to-day, we bid it a thousand welcomes. To- day, for the first time in our history, has it become a National Holiday, and all the members of our great family of States have come together, with heartfelt unanimity, to sing praises, and to pour out thanks to the great Father of Mercies. Oh, may the good example this day set, be faithfully followed, Ier CONTENTS. page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] (~f4(~Tf)$4 ANt) 5(~(fNi~. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. Ij ) 11115 4 I and may this, henceforth, be a fixed feast in our national calendar! And will it not be so? I believe it. I believe this day is to play a glorious part in our great future, to exert a' mighty influence on our career. how many noble deeds will date from it! How many princely benefactions, right royal charities, will it bear wit- ness to, with each coming year.! How many happy firesides, renewe& friendships, buried quarrels, sa~. cred vows, how many, many precious things of all kinds, wilforiginate in the impulses of this blessed period! Thanksgiving day, two centuries hence! What a day! And what a land! One great garden, its walls washed by either ocean; one vast congre- gation of cheerful, thriving workers. But this d their labors are suspended, and they go. forth, with one accord, to offer their prayers and praises to the great Giver. ilark to the myriads of church-bells, as they send forth their, invitations from city and hamlet, from hill-side and valley! Behold the countless multitudes of worshippers, young and old, thoughtful parents and happy children, as along every lane, and 'road, and street, and avenue through~ out the land, in scattered groups or orderly proces.~ sion, they take their way alike to rural chapel, and dicer fYtI village church, and sumptuous cathedral. And now we hear the blended strains of ten thou~ san(l org~n5, and the sweIlin~ notes of innumerable voices, chanting their festal hymns unto the alP bountiful Creator. Arid now all, is hushed in silence, and presently the low, solemn tones of prayer are heard, ascending unto heaven, rising alike from the hearts of stately cities, and from lone vales, deep hid in woods; ay, from every vale, and hill, and plain of this vast, this thrice-blest land; the accept- able incense of grateful souls unto the great Father~ What a spectacle, what a service is here Oh. that the poor, tempest-tossed men of Plymouth could have beheld it, could have had their souls cheered by such a vision, Their eyes greeted with sounds like these! Thanksgiving day throughout ~ the world! Will not that day yet come, upon the earth? I believe it. A day of solemn, universal recognition and. coin- memoration of God's goodness; a day on which, IU- lowing the example of the great parent republic, all the other commonwealths of the civilized, Christian- 6 I 14. page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 CLOUDS 4ND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 9 *1 ized world will, with one consent, come together and join their orisons and hymns with hers; when every nation, and tongue, and island, and valley, and hill- side of earth, shall bear part in the glorious service; when every Art shall lend its choicest inspiration, to render that service worthy of the great Father; when, in a word, this our once little New England festival, shall become the great holiday of earth! Blessed consummation, thrice blessed spectacle, whereat the angels pause ~to gaze with rapture! A world in prayer; a world chanting its Maker's praise in glorious concert ! And are these things to come to pass, indeed? Is this blissful future in store for our dear planet? Are all these triumphs of truth, these precious vic- tories over evil to be secured? Are the bloody rites, the gloomy superstitions, the cruel wars, the. igno- rance, apathy, imbecility, the groveling appetites, the savage passions of men, to be exterminated, and all nations to be resolved, at last, into one great, peaceful, loving, Christian family, and earth itself to become a miniature heaven, and every day that dawns upon it a day of Thanksgiving ~* I believe it. I cling to the glorious thought. 6 Call me dreamer, visionary, if you will. Be it so; Maj I ever dream such dreams, and be blest with such visions! Yes, I confess it; mine is a hopeful, cheerful na- ture. I love to look on the bright side ~of things. I love to draw good omens from the past, to put a corn- - portable construction upon all the mysteries, and trace a paternal hand in all the trials of the pres- ent, and above all, to keep ever in view an inspiring, magnificent future; to look along the vista of ages, and behold, not sullen clouds and angry spectres, but golden smiles, and waving palm-trees, and smil- ing angels, to cheer the ~pilgrim on. Well, who of us are right in this matter, we the children of hope and believers in progress, or the croakers, the chanters of perpetual lamentations; the men who see nothing in the world of to-day, wiser or better than in the world before the flood; and who see nothing ahead, but the same dreary round of folly, vanity, rand vice, that they declare human life to have ever been, from the first syllable of recorded time? the men, whos6 whole creed may be summed up ~in those most dismal lines that ever poet wrote:' ~1 I 8 9 page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] !;I~~V;I~i AND ;1r:8f(f'4k. I' 10 CLOlri)$ AND ~UN:4tI IN i;. ~( ~ i&t we live for ? tell lifb's fiw~~E tale-- To eat, to drink, lo ~1eep, love, ~nnl et~joy, And then to love no more To t4Uk of thing~4 We know not, and loknow Nothing but things not worth tlI(~ talkii~g of 1" it p ~ij~ IN'ly fricrid 8. l~t an eXc('ileht PJIow. full ~ ~Pr/4 irtiJ)uIf4e~4, arid (~oIJt1r)uaJiy r~r~derirg ~t'1th~~ a;t~ % JfJfi(Iflt;E{f1 to thos~c about him ; but he is~ sadly girer~ P) $l(t~J~t~J(i~Ifk ~A4Jd de4~ponder1ey, ~ al' rri1 al ~ra~y'~ Cxpr(~R~e5 hiirriself on rhorai 5~Ihje(;tS; in a arl(l ( (jUitO tOO sarcastic style. IL ~kAr'~i * little or n' faith either in himself or K bretr~re~ in the progress of the race, or in the bles~A Kf.s t~ come. Friend (U. on the other hand; is a mrxs~ firm a~d ardent believer in irnrflortalit7 tno;ffi perhaps, rests far less than he ~ouid h~ wiIa~ :~- allow, upon a Scripture basis. and far ~;m ~ he reads in the great viumes of nat~e and :r~T- dence. But he is not a believer La aa~ st.~aiv. :ez- manent improvement of the hum~ a family. Zh~ movements of society (he will ~ U. have ~ ever since the first page of his:cry ~is vibratory, not progressive, in :he~ cc;er. M::~ or fewer degrees of the great cLrc hive ascribed, in the various eras ~ Lis:~:-v: itoscillation. not progress. \XKe I n:: to the blessed thought of a s~ssx in:. wiz~.iz- cent theatre of action ~ cv I ~fr MEW; Again I :isk, which of us are right in this matter ? With whom is the truth, with whom the wisdom in this controversy ? XX hat Says the ~reat teacher, history 3 What say the phenomena of daily life? Dotl~~y bid us despond, despair, or do they cheer us on to ever-renewed exertions, in behalf of ourselves and our brethren) I have had a good deal of talk on this and kindred topics, of late, with my good friends B. and C. Our conversations have b~een, of course, entirely familiar and immethodical in their character; spontaneous expres4ons of our ideas as they rose; by no means, models either in the way of style or sentiment, and at times, it must be acknowledged, somewhat tinged with levity; but on the whole, ash trust will appear, animated by a becoming heartiness of feeling, and integrity of purpose. Else I certainly should not, as I have, ventured to reproduce them, with be- coming modifications and amendments, and in their original form. 11 10 page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 CLOUDS AND SUNShINE. 1! 41 CONVERSATION. I. soul, however humble or abject on earth, but also cherish the belief of a slow, steady, sure and tri& umphant progress to perfection~ of the great brother- hood here below, and of the final conversion of this dear world of ours into one grand, delightful family mansion, as it were, of loving, happy kinsmen,. Such are our differences of opinion. In one thing, I trust, we will be found to agree, and that is, a due sense of our own frail, erring, sinful natures. Far from us be the temerity, the presumption to set up'~ for models, or teachers, or to suppose that we have been particularly profound, or brilliant, or witty, in these our interlocutions. A fair share of naturaL ness and truthfulness, enlivened here and there it may be, by an occasional bright thought, or happy illustration, such is the sum total of our pretensions in the premises. With this brief explanation, I submit the 'follow- ing pages to the consideration of such kind and courteous reader as may be willing to throw away a little hour o' two upon them. W- 4 * A. Pensive as ever, my dear B., this morning! A penny for your thoughts. B. Too much, too much. , As a conscientious man, Ii should have to give you at least three far- things' change. A. But what were you thinking a1~out 3 B. Oh, nothing special-the same old story; the beautiful uncertainty of life, the magnificence of human nature,' the sweet gloom and mystery that o 'erhang the grave; in short, the usual agreeable topics. A. And you were discussing them, of course, in your usual gloomy and cynical spirit. Always harp- ing on the same melancholy string, always chanting in the minor key! Ah, my friend, you are. very wrong in this. B. You think so, do you? 12 page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] -I, 14 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. {tt I I CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 15 A. .I do, indeed. I think it most unmanly and unchristian in you, to cherish such sad,. such per- verse feelings. You, of Ell men in the world, too ; who have so much to be thankful for ; you, who have youth, health, friends, means, talents, Leisure, all the prizes of life, indeed; who have every motive to be happy, and to make those about you happy. You-- B. Stop, stop, my good friend.' Be pleased to recollect that this is Monday, and that I have hardly had time yet to digest the very able and effective discourse of yesterday morning. Besides, it's ask- ing too much of a nman, to be text and audience both. A. You're bitter. B. Not at all. I really do think, though, that you were cut out for a clergyman, You'd have been a most devoted one. You'd have been in the pulpit full seven days in the week. A. Better the pulpit of the Christian, than the tub of the cynic. B. Now you are complimentary. A. But sarcasm apart, and talking over the mat- ter like the true friends that we are, I must repeat, my dear fellow,, that you are terribly off the track, in cultivating the gloomy views of life that you do. I think you are alike sowing the seeds of unhappi-. ness for yourself, and defrauding society of its just claims upon your services. You have no right to keep in a corner thus, and to be cherishing this fas- tidious, morose, sceptical, inactive disposition. You I ought to be up and about, doing good, lighting up the clouded faces of your poor brethren with words arid deeds of kindness. At your time of life, you ought to be full of hope and faith, over sanguine, ever cheerful,- B. Preach away, preach away. Don't spare your powder. A. I don't intend to; nor the offender. lHar- dened sinner that he evidently is, he miay yet live to profit by a friend's advice, and thank him for it. B. I ask pardon. I was wrong in interrupting you thug. But seriously, my friend, I cannot look upon this matter as you do. I do not consider ex- istence such an unqualified boon, nor my own par- ticular lot in life, however favorably it may compare with that of the majority, as carrying with i tany such overwhelming weight of obligation or of grati- tude. If you think you can alter my views, how- ever, go ahead. I am quite ready to listen ; nay, I cheerfully admit the excellence, both of your inten- tions, and of your oratory. A. .There you are again, sneering as usual. B. Sneering? -A. Yes, sneering ; but the-fact is, you have got into such a habit of sarcasm and irony, that you are not conscious of it. B. Forgive me, my dear fellow, forgive me. I certainly meant no offence. But 1 say again, I dif- fer with you, toto cwlo, on this subject. I can't see page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 1.~ 16 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE- any such cogent reasons why I or my neighbors ought to be so wonderfully cheerful. Cheerful, for- sooth, in a~ world .like this, where all is frailty and instability ; where a man is liable to fall down in a fit every moment; where his nearest and dearest friends are snatched away from him, oven while his head is turned, by perpetually recurring casualties where ten thousand subtle and malignant diseases are flying about, and Death is incessantly discharg- ing his poisoned shafts at him and his, from every nook and corner ; cheerful, in a city like this,, where every man's neck is at the mercy of bullies 'and omnibus-drivers ; cheerful, say you, in a community like ours, where a citizen is afraid to go a few miles up the river to make a friendly call, lest he should be burned, or drowned, or scalded to death ; with the comfortable assurance, too, that his murderers, in- stead of being brought to condign punishment, will' at most be dismissed with a gentle rebuke, and with- in a twelvemonth, perhaps, of the occurrence, be- come the recipients of massive services of .silver-. What-is there in all this, to call for any such super- abundance of gayety or of thankfulness ? Look at that morning paper on the table there, and then a'slk me to be cheerful! Is'nt it crammed with all sorts of horrid crimes and disasters? Not to speak of the thefts, robberies, murders, suicides, just glance at that frightful list of fires, and explosions, and railroad accidents, and above. all, at that heart- CLOUDS AND SUNSHIINE. 17 sickening account of that steamboat collision. If there is anything to move mirth in all this, it must be the ,mirth of some 'grinning,. mocking demon. And isn't every day's paper filled with the same dis- mal records ? the same dreary' evidences of human wickedness and wretchedness ? Cheerful, indeed ! no, no. So far froxg singing these psalms of thanks& giving that you are so eternally harping upon, I con- fess I do feel at times disposed. to 'call in question the goodness of the Creator, and to curse the very hour that I saw daylight. A. .Don't, don't, my dear friend, talk so unrea- sonably, so wildly. B. So you say ; but I maintain that the facts and the reason are with me in this matter. A. I deny it. I join issue with you. most dis- tinctly on- this point. Nay, I will call your own 'wit- ness. I 'take up this very paper of yours, and I say that I see far more in it to fill me with pride and admiration and gratitude, than with their~piposites ; far more manifestations of enterprise, skill, and be- nevolence, than of folly and villainy. There are some sad accidents here, to be sure. There are many things to grieve, to weep over, but far more to make me rejoice in my country, and in my race, and ,to pour out, my soul ~in thanks unto the great Father. B. What say you to this item? (pointing to the Inspector's Report.) Two hundred and fifty, chil- page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 19 dren swept Qif last week by Chole~ra Infanturn and 2 'Dysentery! Is that a theme for thanksgiving.. Could you see the dear little massacred innocents 'all in a heap together, you wouldn't talk so. Look a~ that black list of victims to Consumption, too' and all the rest of those grim weapons in Death's magazine of terrors. What is there to glad the heart of friend or parent, in such a statement as this? A. At first blush, I grant you, the record seems a dismal one; the sad index of a sad volume of suf. ferings and bereavements. Faith alone can solve, can reconcile us to dispensations like these. Still, my friend, do not, forget how many of these same departures weke blessed releases from long suffer- ings, how many were in the order of nature. But above all do not forget, as you seem disposed to, while dwelling on the fallen ones, the tenfold greater number of those who have been rescued from the / destroyer, by generous Nature herself, or by timely skill. Is it logical, is it decent, to take the ground you do? Is it fair, either, to make so much of (and in such a shamefully bitter and heathenish spirit) the thousandth casualty that occurs, and have not one word of gratitude to offer for the nine hundred and ninety-nine safe' arrivals, by sea and land, that are' coternporaneous with it? I see in this very col- umn to which you have referred, an account of two vessels foundering at sea. It is a sad' story, cer- '1~ nil' "-"4 : tainly; but then I cast my eyes upon the column alongside, and I see a long, long catalogue of ships from all corners of the world, that have reached their journey's end, unharmed. Had it been the other way, now, there would have been some ground for lamentation, some excuse for grumbling. B. Plausible as ever. * A. Just, just. 'Tis yotj that are plausible. You judge by the exceptions, I by the rules. You take for standards the crimes, shipwrecks, and casualties of life; I the wise, ~brderly, beneficent course of na- ture. B. In other words, I suppose, I'm a grumbler, and you an optimist. A. Be it so: between two such extremes what heart can hesitate? At the same time, I think the truth is far nearer my end of the line than yours. B. Of course you do. A. And 1 think I could demonstrate it; that is, if we were to discuss the subject in 4a friendly and liberal spirit, anti not an acid and sarcastic one. B. You seem to think that verjuice predominates in my composition. Don't you now?. A. Candidly, I do somewhat; not by nature, however, but' from a wilful cherishing of perverse habits and opinions. B. That is, what you call perverse. That's just the difference. What I think a reasonable cau- tion, and slowness of belief; for instance, you denomi- 18 19 page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 21 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. nate crabbedness and skepticism; and on the other hand, what you would call a noble generosity, I should be apt to resolve into vanity and enthusiasm. Who is to decide between us? A. No doubt, my dear friend, persons of our oppo- site views and temperaments, are too apt to misun- derstand, and undervalue each other. The only way is to toil faithfully after the truth, and to own up handsomely, and act accordingly, when convinced. But to return to our paper. B. True, true. I suppose now you think those three miles of advertisements there, are gratifying, inspiring objects; are each and all models of truth and soberness. I must take the liberty of consider- ing at least nine-tenths of them abominable, false- hoods, worthy of Falstaff himself; got up by quacks, showmen, swindlers of all sorts and sizes, to mislead and victimize the verdant. Indeed, I doubt whether a single one of that page-full of certificates of the superhuman qualities of all those pills, candies, lini- 'ments, cordials, and razor-straps, is signed by a bonafide human being, a living, breathing ta~x-payer. Of course, you think differently. So far from seeing ~ ny thing to awaken that pride and admiration, of which yo~ speak, in such a frightful aggregation of fibs, I consider them a disgrace to the metropolis; II see in them most shanieful evideitices of the cor- riipting, degrading tendencies of trade. 4. Severe and unjust criticism! That there is some trifling with truth here, especially under the medical head, I grant you; but that the great bulk of these advertisements are the representatives of facts, ay, and of most creditable facts, I am convin- ced.* Yes, I ant proud of them; prQud of these silent witnesses to so much wealth, and thrift, and enterprise. I do look with gratification at these long files of ships, and steamers, and rail-cars; at the millions and millions of tons of merchandise set forth in these one-line notices; at these solid columns of banks and insurance companies; at this goodly array of amusements, that tells us where a world ~of innocent fun may be had, after the day's work is done; at this long, bristling catalogue of wants, that bespeaks a bustling, thriving population; yes, at the whole record, as bearing testimony to a free, active, flourishing, ingenuous, noble-spirited community. B. Well, well, one of us must be terribly mista~ ken in this matter. I can't help thinking that you are surveying the ground through your usual rose- colored., magnifiers. A. And you, it may ber through your usual cloudy and yellow tinted ones. But even were this same journal, the gloomy record you try to make it out, is it altogether fair to pronounce upon human life and human nature, from such data as the col- umns of newspapers and the pages of historians ?- Are they not perpetually overlooking~ the orderly and commendable parts of both, in their chase after 1/ EW/ V 21 20 page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 4~,i4 I 22 CLOUDS AND STJNSTIINE. the piquant and surprising? When the current of existence flows smoothly and beneficently on, they have nothing to say about it; when swollen and mis- chievous, we are sure to hear the full particulars of all its evil doings: What cares the historian for the piping times of peace, for quiet villages, and thriving towns? his laurels, like those of his heroes, are only to be gathered in revolutions, and on battle- fields. What interest does a journalist take in a respectable, well-regulated neighborhood? Let some foul scandal, or black crime spring up, to overthrow the happiness and fair fame of a whole household, and he will not fail to do ample justice to the sad theme~ while he passes by, in barren silence, the hundreds of peaceful firesides around him; just as he will blazon forth the ostentati~us bequests of some rich neighbor, while the hundreds of poor widows' mites that are daily dropped h~to the* treasury, do their blessed work without a chronicler. Yes, there is a world of unrecorded goodness all about us, that we are quite too ready to overlook and ignore, in our rash denunciations of human nature. B. And, by the same rule~ is there not a loath- some mass of meanness, vice, and villainy, to which we are equally blind, in our rash eulogiums upon it? A. I think not. I think the evil parts are* far more apt to see the light; to be talked and written about, and to find their way into print. Rogues, like invalids, are always chattering, and betraying them- CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 23 selves, whereas goodness ever keeps its own counsels, an(l is chary of singing its own praises how many glorious entries are there, on the records of the angels, that we dream not of; how much stealthy bone vo- lence, how much patience under affliction, how much faith and resignation; ay, and in countries that we look down upon, as heathens ~nd~barbarians! how many humble women are there, scattered all over the globe, whose lives are spent in ministering unto sick- ness and sorrow! Every river-side, every village, liam~e t, every sequestered dell of earth, bears witness to them; bears witness also, to a little world of ob- scure but heai~tfclt happiness, that we quite forget in our sweeping lamentations over human life. B. I can't agree with you. Of course, I admit, there is a good deal of worth, and of happiness, that don't find its way into the pages of the annali~t, or the columns of the journalist; but I also maintain that there is a fifty-fold greater amount of obscure misery and rascality. As to the angelic records, to which you allude, I confess I shudder at the thought of them. For every page in them that is matter of rejoicing, I believe there are h1indreds that are themes for bitter, burning tears. Nor do I see how any accurate reader of his own heart, or of those of his brethren, can come to any other conclusion. Yes. we are a poor, wretched, sin-loving set. We love to commit it ourselves, and we dearly love to read about the sins of others. And the journalist who does not K 23 page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] CLOUDS ANt) SUNSHINE. duly recognize and cater to this propensity, and stuff his columns accordingly, is only courting a speedy bankruptcy. Didn't our neighbor -~ try that ex- periment to his cost? Didn't he resolve, one fine morning, that he would thenceforth banish from his sheet all acrimonious, scandalous, and criminal mat- ter; and did not his subscribers fall away from him like autumn leaves'? A newspaper without lies and casualties, forsooth! As well talk of a bank without specie, a quack without his gamboge, a magician without his army of placard-bearers A. Cheerful, cheerful views, these; so inspiring, too; so calculated to arouse a man to noble effort! B. And yet, does not every page of history, from Adam down, proclaim their truth? A. Not so, not so: I cannot, I will fiot believe it. I will not cherish, nor can I bear to see yo.u cherish, sentiments that I consider alike blasphemous towards God, fatal to one's own happiness, and Qpposed to all heroic exertions for the happiness of others; senti- ments that seem to me to spring far more from a selfish and rebellious spirit, than from a calm, wise survey of nature or of providence. B. You speak plainly. A. But not in anger or bitterness. B. No, no; I believe you. However skeptical I may be on most subjects, I have yet never ques- tioned the truthfulness of your nature, or the since- rity of your friendship. Er V 24 25 Ii~ K CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. A. Well then, let us discuss these matters, like friends, fairly and coolly, if I am wrong, l~t me be convinced, and let me cheerfully surrender my opin- ions. If right, let me have the satisfaction of feeling that I have done something towards expelling these (for so I can't help thinking them) most gloomy and unsound notions of yours. B. If you think any good can come of such dis- cussions, so be it. I have no great faith in them myself, and moreover think them far better suited for seraphim, than for poor earth-worms. At the same time, I feel that it would ill become me to meet your evident earnestness and heartiness in this mat- ter, with either a dogged obstinacy, or an uncourteous * silence. There certainly is a\world-wide difference between us, on these points. 1 cannot construe my- self, or my brethren, or life, or history, as you do.- * I see little in the pas~t to beget complacency, nor can II look with your longing, credulous eyes, into the Future. On the contrary, the more I ~ee aud observe. both within and around me, the more hollow, unsat- isfactory, and worthless does existence appear.- Within, what is there, but weakness and frailty; faculties, feeble in their best estate, and which the merest trifle may, at any moment, impair or destroy; irn ever-present consciousness of ignorance; a mom- Dry that betrays and torments, far more than it.serves or soothes; that tells of wasted hours, neglected op- portunities, cherished sins; of most magnificent pro- page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 27 mises and most contemptible performances: what is there, but a soul groaning under the iron rule of a body; a reason mocked with royal titles, but shorn of all true sovereignty; a conscience that hardly shows fight even, with the evil one, but falls before every pitiful temptation. What is there here to be- get any great degree of self-love, or any very ardent desire after immortality? And do I wrong my brethren and neighbors, when I say, that I see in nine-tenths of them pretty much the same charac- teristics? the same imbecility~ and ignorance, the same mad chase after present pleasures and excite- ments, the same wilful turning of their backs upon true wisdom and goodness? Yes, I confess it; life does seem to me a fright complication of mysteries and evils and inequalitie~; here the pangs of penury, there the nausea of s ~iety; here the artyr to business, there t1~e victirA to idleness. Is not man- kind the sa~ne motley crowd that ever it was, of peer4 and paupers, priests and pick-pockets, scholars and sots? And is there not, now as ever, the same frightful predominance every where, of folly, sin and sorrow? Of course, you will say, no, and will, as you did just now, utterly repudiate ~and denounce such sentiments. A. I do, indeed, and it grieves me to the soul to see you entertain and dwell upon them thus. I say that you do injustice alike to yourself and your brethren; that the world never was so bad as you 3 I 4, '4 26 n 47 l)aint it; that it is far wiser and better to-day than ever it was, and that I firmly believe it will go on growing and advancing in goodness and happiness, unto the end. But above all, do I believe in a bless- ed life to come, that is to sol~ these same mysteries and sorrows, of which you so ceaselessly complain (while you have no word of thanks to utter for your ten thousand benefits and privileges), and that is to reveal in him that hath sent or permitted them, an infinitely wise and gracious Father. B. Well then, if you will discuss the matter, which of us is right-you, who entertain this belief and these expectations; or I, who have no faith in the amendment of this world, and (I own it) little or no faith in,.or even hope of a world to come? A. What, not even a hope of immortality? B. No, no. I ask no future life. The present is quite burthen enough. I would fain drop that burden at the grave, and there have an end. I covet not the possible glories, I shrink from the pos- sible sufferings of any second existence. No such risk for me. No, no; give me the sleep thajt knows no waking; not a mere truce between two turbulent, tumultuous worlds, but a sweet ar}d lasting peace. I ask no more. Heaven knows I have no claims upon it, in the shape of future rewards, nor shall have; and I woidd most gladly evade its punish- n~ents. I am for closing the account, good and all, at the tomb. Yes, let that be the finis of my little i page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] '-ii 1' CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. I, U volume. No continuation, no new series for me;- no enlarged or amended edition ; no- it. Don't, don't talk so wildly. B. Wildly, absurdly, if you will; but still, hon- estly. I speak what my heart dictates - and oh, how many, many hearts are there, that if their own- cers interpret6d them as fairly, would with one accord cry, Amen, amen ! A. What?2 B. Yes, would gladly drown alike their hopes and fears of an hereafter, in endless slumber;- would gladly compromise for annihilation. A. I cannot think so. On the contrary, it seems to me such cases are even more rare than they are sad. Nay, I had .almost said, I do not believe that any such case exists, if fairly tested. -The vilest wretch and murderer even, that ever disgraced and desolated the earth, who knows that there is no be- ginning, even, of adequ te punishment for hini here, and who can only look forward to long and bitter sufferings hereafter, would he not yet, does he not in his inmost heart, prefer to face those sufferings, to the dread thought o~f -nothingness ? Does he not cherish the latent hope, that beyond all this terrible but most righteous retribution, there is something of comfort and encouragement; that there will yet d awn upon his-poor benighted soul a day of peace and of' favor, a day that is to usher in a useful, a glorious career in the service of Hleaven ? I be~'ieve / 28 it. And, apart from this hope, does not. the vanity of human nature reluct at the idea of being thus summarily and contemptuously dismissed into obli- vion ? Is there any punishment that a poor sinner would not be willing to undergo, rather than to owe his release to any such humiliating, crushing though as this ? No, no, my dear fellow ; I disagree wit you entirely on this point. You do not speak fom the very, very depths of your heart, when you utter such sentiments. It cannot be. No future life ? What, have you so little curiosity, even, as to be willing to go down to your grave and be extinguished for ever, having seen no more than this little corner of God's glorious universe, and tat btdmyan hurriedly ? Are you so easily satisfied?2 Would you explore no farther ? Have you no desire to taste the blessed air, and behold the lovely flowers of Heaven? Or to know more of the stars above yoand their histories, and to survey the blessed * plan of creation from other points .of view, and to gaze upon earth from some brighter, happier orb? Would you not, if you could, scale the heights and pierce the depths of this wondrous frame of things, * and go on, perpetually enlarging the boundaries of, your knowledge and your experience ? Have you no desire for any new organization, or sei'ies of te, each ~surpassing its predecessor in strength, and beauty, and capacity ; for faculties of motion, and perception, and thought, compared with which the 29 I. 'ii Li page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 I / choicest endowmei~ts of mortals and their exertions, are as the timid creeping of the babe, alongside of the vigor of the full-grown man ? Would you tiot have a vision that could pierce through thousand leagues of air, and a hearing that could embrace alike the chirp of neighboring cricket, and the strains of distant angels, and a power to Course through ether, and to perform heavenly journies, compared with which the poor travel of earth is as the brief; fluttering voyage of the butterfly, to the soaring flight -of the eagle? Have you no wish, either, to meet the loved ones of earth in some happier home; to behold in brighter climes, and under more genial influences, the brave, and Wise, and good, and lovely that have adorned the planet in times past; and that are to grace and bless it in times to come? Ijave you no longing for the glorious society of angels, no ambition to become, yourself; a ministering angel of God? to go on, growing ever in grace and wisdom, and becoming more and more familiar with the plans* and purposes of the Creator; to read more and more clearly and deeply the book of Providence; nay, to be a partaker of God's counsels, to be employed by him in heavenly missions, to have the charge and guardianship, it may be, of stars and systems filled with intelligent, accountable beings; to enlighten, rescue, and redeem them from the thraldom of sin, - and from the wiles of the arch-enemy? Or do you see nothing to inspire or cheer, in such hopes and CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 31 aspirations ',~ No, no, my friend; I will not so libel, J so insult you, as to suppose you the incurious, unam- bitious, cold, dull, groveling creature that you would fhin declare yourself; to suppose you capable of thus wilfully turning your back upon visions and possi- bilities like these, and of preferring to go down to your gravq, and rot, and p~iss away forever, of no more worth or signmfic~nce than the meanest weed or vilest reptile of earth.. I?. Fine talk, brave words these; but as usual, my dear friend, you have quite left out the shadows in this fancy sketch of yours; you say not a word. about those other visions and possibilities That be~ long to tl~e future. You talk of angels and arc~h- angels, and of happier climes and hoi~nes above, and of ever-expanding capacities, and, joys, and duties; but you quite overlook the lemons a'nd arch-demons, and their dismal abodes, and their ever-increasing powers of inflicting and of suffering evil. You talk as if all these stars around us were miniature hea- vens, dedicated unto peace and love. Where then, let me ask, are Satan's dominions? Are then, the seeds of good so scantily sown here on earth, to yield such glorious fruit hereafter, and are the far more plenteously sown seeds of evil to come to nought? If there is to be this illimitable growth in grace, why not in wickedness also? You seem to think this world a mere nursery for angels, but may it not be far more of a primary school for dcv- I, 4 c~5 J CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. U p 31 page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] us? I fear so. If there he any thing beyond it, it seems to me that the powers of darkness will be tenfold more the gainers thc of light; that- reby than the powers A. How can you talk so? The idea that God's bright and beautiful earth is a mere infant school for flends---mons trous, blasphemous assumption! B. I see not how. I think my gloomy picture has far more truth in it, than your brilliant one. That the great mass of men do, and ever have served the devil most devotedly, here, who can gainsay? And why shouldn't they continue those services hereafter? Why shouldn't the same cursed infatna.. tion that leads and keeps us astray on earth, lead and keep us astray, through all eternity? Will it not be so? Is not the future far more alarming than inspiring? If I should exist beyond the grave, are not the chances altogether in favor of my continuing the same wretched, wicked part that I have been playing here; of my becoming, nut a min- istering angel of God, but a vile emissary of Satan; going about on 14s cursed errands, corrupting youth, Seducing innocence, doing all I can to disturb the Peace and poison the happiness of the universe'. ever growing in guilt and wretchedness and in the Power and will to cause and to inflict them? And is not annihilation to be preferred to a career like this? I repeat it, then, I ask no future life. I wish to lake no such risk. I am Willing to foi'ego CLOUDS AND ~JIJNSfIINE. ti I: F I'; I CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 3.3 its possible joys and glories, so I may be secured ag inst its perils and its horrors. Let me stop here. Make an end of me in the grave. There may pos- sibly be one seraph round the throne the less in consequence, but it is far, far more likely that you arc thereby nipping in the bud an abominable limb of Satan. A. What language! Far more suited, certainly, to a henighted Persian or llindoo, than to this Chris- tian age an(l land. Nay, you are. far worse than a Manichean. They were willing to allow the Lard at least a divided sovereignty in his own universe but from your talk, I should think the Evil Onehad almost exclusive control over it. You cannot be in earnest, in expressing such sentiments . You do not anticipate any such horrible career for yourself hereafter. Nor have you the remotest idea, and you know it, that that dear little boy there, who is smil- ing so sweetly in his slumber, can ever become a. howling fiend in hell. B. God forbid! And yet, why not? Cain him- self, no doubt, was a very pretty baby. And how many just such 'little rosebuds as this, have fond young mothers cherished in their bosoms, who have turned out Satan's own minions at last; have d ~ne all that in theta lay, to make a hell of earth! A. Don't speak so bitterly. Oh, no, no; this dear young soul was destined for happiness, for hea- ven. So were all human souls. Who c~n doubt it? page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] fi I IL4 CLOUDS AND SUNsIIINj~. 'if 1. 1k [ I~i I 14 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. Who can doubt that we shall all, in God's good sea- son, our trials and perils past, our sins and sufibr- ings over, meet in that blessed land at last ; shall enter on a glorious career of joys, and duties, and contemplation, compared with which all the beauty, and glory, and wisdom of earth~ are the veriest toys of children? You smile, and will no doubt call these the, dreams of an enthusiast. But are they not better than the horribly gloomy picture you con- jured up just now? Nay more (if you were in ear- nest in what you said), are you not fur more ultra and visionary in your notions, than I in mine; far more unreasonable and wild in your despondency than I ill my high hopes? If I have left out the shadows, as you say, in my picture, have you not utterly banished every glimmer even of cheerful light from yours? B. Well, to tell the honest truth, I was rather replying to you in your own, fanciful and extravagant strain, (for so, my dear friend, I must consider it,) than speaking the real sentiments of my heart. I confess, I have very few hopes or fears about the matter. I certainly do not look forward to any such horrible hereafter as I hinted at, any more than I do to the magnificent one, which ,you have painted in such glowing colors. To me, the terrors and the splendors seem alike visionary. Your angel-throng- ed palaces of light, and my demon-haunted abodes of darkness, are they not alike the creations of o'erbusy ?ep fancies, alike devoid of any solid foundation in reason? I confess, I am more and more inclined to think so, every day. A. As you will. In either case, your views seem to me as little consistent with sound reasoning, as they are gloomy and repulsive. You begin by find- ing fault with every thing in this world. Not a thing suits you: all is vanity and vexation, gall and bitterness; and you end by rejecting any other; or should there possibly be another, you can only see in it a thousand fold more guilt and wretchedness. You seem to ha~v~ no faith whatever in your own freedom, or in God's goodness; in your power to re- pent and reform, or in God's acceptance of your pen- itence; should you possibly survive the grave, you take it for granted that you will be consigned to the tender mercies of Satan; but on the whole, you do not believe in any such survivorship. In other words, you deliberately accuse your Maker of amus- ing himself at the expense of His poor children; of putting them here, surrounding them with trials and sorrows, vexing 'their souls with all manner of rid- dles and problems, tantalizing them with all manner of desires and aspirations, and then, so far from vouchsafing them a single word of explanation, or a single look of coaifort and encouragement, of wan- tonly stemming the door in their faces, of delibe- rately stopping their mouths forever, in the grave! ~2~an you believe this? What would you say to an 4 page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 1' si ''I earthly father, who Would take his little d:ivliigs on his knee, and talk to them about (111iiMtIllas and Santa Claus. and e~eite their ~'ouuv~ ilitagitiat jotis flfl(l kiiidl~ theji' hopes (A COUliuig toys and da i cities, awl after all mock the poot' things With Clnl)tY stock- ings, or fill them ~ithi odious rods ? Would yTOll speak to such a wretch ? Woul~~ you li~'~ in the same hemis1)here with hun .~ AVId yet you (10 hot hesitate to tax the heavenly Parent with lust such cruelty and malice. Beautiful doctrinee ! Does, not the bare statement of it demonstrate alike its folh~ 'I and wickedness? B. You speak warmly; but notwithstanding the strength of your language, my friend, II am not con- vinced. I cannot see thcs~ things as you do. If we must discuss such subjects, why not go to the bot- torn of the difficulty ? I repeat it, then; I have not the faith you speak of. I cannot get up that confi- dence, in ~yseIf or my brethren, in the present or the future, that seems so to sustain and elevate you. Isay it not sneeringly, still less in~any tone of tri- umph. I often wish it were 'otherwise. I often envy you that cheerfu1, sanguine, credulous nature of yours. But so it is. I cannot look with your eyes. I cannot read those glorious meanings (as you call them) in every event that occurs, nor per- ceive those magnificent developments that you say are in store for us. The longer I look at life, the more dreary and complicated does the snarl appear; f~II y rather a taw(tVy, flashy mio-drarfla; fiil I of fiOl Th au4 T1f)!)Wri~~, Itaving ~Il thin gloom of a trigr~ i;~; \VI thout i t~ dignity, all the afBurdi ty of a f~trce, ~'. irA OUt it~ fun. A. True ; and it is these sarfiC (hgrrial, horrible TiOtIOTIS of yours, that 1 80 SCCk to combat. I can2 not hear to 8CC one whom I estecifi and lovf ~'iVifl~ 'way tO their thus. I;. vVV~ell, it am willing to listen. As I said be- fore, I have no great faith in the utility of ~ur;h dis- cussIonS. I inety-ninC times in a hundred; they only end in the exchange of unpleasant epthets. and in leaving the parties clinging with firmer grip than ever to their respective opinions. A. But why should it be so? Surely such themes as these, discussed by true friends; an I wil becoming can(lOr, courtesy, and modesty. oujit to lead to profitable issues. However; I have no uma of taxing your patience any farther: to-day. I shall insist, though, on renewing the argument when next we meet. B. As you please, my dear fellow; ~ I mean- while farewell. A. Goc~ bless you. V I' Si S-s 5~S 5' 5* is CI4OUl)8 'A Ni) ~t~N8Ii I N IC. ('f.0fjI)8 AN~~ 8UN8fTfNf';. page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 7' N CONVERSATION II. t A. IN our last conversation, my dear friend, I expressed a wish to discuss farther, certain senti- ments of yours, which, the more I reflect upon them, the more and more dreary and frightful do they ap- pear. Let m~ ask you again, were you in earnest in uttering them? IDo you really entertain a skepti- cism s~o dismal, so fatal to all peace and happiness, to all noble ambition, and to all hearty effort ai'f~r improvement? B. Why should you doubt my sincerity? I certainly did speak as I felt, on these subjects; gloomily, wickedly, if you will, but God knows, frank- ly. I might better have held my jiea~e, no doubt. As I then told you, I have no faith, myself; in such speculations, or discussions. We poor mortals have been puzzling over, and prattling about these myste- ries, from the beginning, and what good has ever cOme of it all? Are we not just as much in the dark as ever? For every wise word that has been utter- ed in these controversies, have there not been ten thousand foolish and wicked ones? Why seek to multiply them, then? What have I to say, in the premiseS, worth combating, or worth hearing? ~ poor, whimsical, ignorant, frail sinner, like me Wouldn't silence be far more becoming? how vis- ionary too, the attempt to make any peri~ianent im- pression upon ea4ch other's opinions, any more than to alter our temperaments. No, no. You, my friend, are blessed with a cheerful, hopeful nature. You appear to have a faith, and teal A enthush~sm upon all subjects. You canno ,if u would, look upon the dark side of things, past, pr sent, or to come. I am differently constituted. I neither have, nor sympathize with these sanguine views of yours. But why should I seek to shake your faith? If you can see your way clear through this world, and have a beautiful vista beyond, to cheer and inspire you, why should I wish to interpose clouds, if I could ?- Oh, no, enjoy, make the most of this generous ardor of yours, and leave, leave me to r~iy gloom and un- belief. A. Not so. I am not willing to drop the matter thus. These themes are, indeed, as you say, old as man, but are they any the less vitally important o~ that account? Is not the peace of our souls as deeply involved in them as ever? I am not willing y p.-.- CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 4' 39 I pq ~t[ 4 page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] ([f~1rJPF-4 AN ~ 8rfN~rffNf~ to b% li( ~~Q I hTl I' Ct 1111 COUIOI'Q1ICCS 1 bOUt Ihen), and friendly explanations might not (l() good. If 1 an, the 'wild enthusiast YOU seem to think 1)10, 1 ought tO be set ~ , C ~O1l ~fl rirht i '0 UU1'Oa$OUably despoiidiiig flfld skeptical. lOt me, at least, try t~) 8110(1 801110 little ray of light upon your gloom. 1 should. indeed, like to know more of the grounds ~1U(I details Of these opinions c~f yOurs, and by what proee~s you have arrived at ~ueh dismal conclusions. B. Well, if ~ iflSiSt. I ai~ bound by all the hiws of friendship an(l of courtesy, to sp~k honestly and to listen patiently. A. Tell me, then ~io you really mean to say, that you have no faith in any future life ? B. I will answer you candidly. 1 have neither any lively faith in. nor ardent desire 4lftcr immor- tality. If I should exist hereafter, if I should dwell in other worlds. I have no confidence that I should be a gainer thereby; nay, might I not be a terrible loser? Apart from all moral considerations, may not this earth, with all its troubles and sorrows, still be. the most tolerable part of creation? May hot we children of men, with all our follies and our crimes, yet be GoXs best work? Who shall say? I have as much right to my conjectures, as you to yours, wher~ all is f~g and ignorance. Suppose it to be so. How dreary, then, the thought of any thing beyond the ~ax-e I The idea ~f perpetuity here, is sufficiently uistressing; but to go from bad I '4 4 1k- t'i W(,VF~O ; tO 1)0 t1~1 risVrifl(d lo a planet~ ~;til I TflOr~' (Ii51il~I 1, 1Ii~tl t~) srwiety still i~iOre Worth le~A to 'K COI)(1O1111)('d, fhr jj~5kt1tU~, to ~ long term of eOTj5f:1Of1~ in i ut)iter', that (hr aught we know to tie con- trary,) t~ ~ggy, sti pi d, jail k-and- water, shoeki n~tI y iL~Imt~l, st,(TiIO On) ; where there iS nothi rig genial (W CXl)ihIVatil)g ; Wh(~V~ nO 511(41 tliiri~~ ~)3 a f~r)wer or fruit is ever seen, or lovely lmdsc~' pe, or bnl Writ sunset ; nothing, nothing but4 one eternal rein4 £1 (lull, leaden skies, au(l bitter herbs ; to go threuA~ ~ueh a dreary routine as this, half brutaL half hn- man, 'with ever and anon, the tormenting recoilCCt~;~i of the (with all itS vexations and SilffCViWrS1 thOU~{~ nt fold pleasanter earth that I had left ; and to find no * escape from such an ~~i5tCflCC ; or if .1 sh~ill sue- ceed in severing the tie that bound inC to ft. to be still worse off; to find myself suddenly remove1 to some such tumultuous and inflammable planet. per- haps, as Mercury; who knows? and there to ~'i through a career, all fret and feverish exettement: my blood ever at the boiling point: m brain one whirling gulf of fantasy and flame: no peace. n quiet; and so on, on, on, ad infinitum. shifiin~ about from one theatre of action to another. each more wretched than the one before it. and always tn ez~- tremes ;, now, all that is dull and dreary and sta nant, and now an insane and ceaseless uer~y idea of such an immortality as this Is i~ ~ot 4 40 (4 LOP 1)8 AN1~ 811N811 iNE. 41 41 page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] ~I4 p IiII CLOU~~ AND SUNSHjN~* gather frightful and intoh~rable? Wouldn't extin& tion be perfectly delightful in comparison? - A. Unquestionably it would; but what right have you to indulge in any such wild and absurd conjec- tures? Precious notions yours, of the Creator and his universe! How ca~ you talk s'o, with that Bible on your table, too; with God's own promise of a glo- rious life to come, if ~you will but secure it; of a world of beauty and grandeur and happiness, infin- itely beyond all human conception, even, in store for his faithful, obedient children? The idea that frail, sinful man, with all his capacities, is the highest effort of creative wisdom, or that this little earth of ours is the masterpiece in the great gallery of Na- ture, would be absurd enough, I should Think, to the mere philosopher; but to give vent to such whirnsi- cal, such presumptuous speculations, right in the teeth of that blessed revelation there, it seems to me perfectly inexcusable. B. But, my friend, suppose I were to. tell you, that I have no faith in that same revelation? A. WeB, I ought to have expected it; at the same time, I confess, it grieves me to the soul to hear you say so. B. Why should it? Why should I not speak out honestly? If we must discuss thc~e subjects, I am for going to the root of the matter. I am for making a clean breast of it. I have no faith in that Volume, other or greater than I have in that Shaks- CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 43 peare alongside of it, and I feel just as much at lib- erty to criticize it. I see no more of a divine origin in Job, tliuii I do in hamlet. I no moi~e believe that God dictated theparables of Christ, or the Epistles of Paul, than lie did the eloquent pleading of Portia, or the sublime talk of Prospero. This grates harshly on your ear, I see, but so it seems to me. I would not speak disrespectfully nor ungratefully. I have read with delight the exquisite story of Joseph and his brethren; but is it one whit more exquisite than the Winter's Tale? Or is Ruth herself, standing amid the golden corn, one whit more pure and love- able than thc flowei~-crowned Perdita, or is Jepthah's * daughter a finer conception than Cordelia? Is the wis(Iom of Solomon any more genuine and world- embracing than that which the bard kee~~ pouring forth continually, alike in the palaces of kings, and the dungeons of convicts-in the caves of Bohemia, no less than under the pleasant trees of Arden? If the man of Jerusalem was inspired, surely the man of Stratford was. Nor have I any more confidence in the truth of the statements of Kings and Chroni- cles, than I have in those of the historical plays; nay, not half so much. A. I suppose not. You mean to say, then, in a word, that you have no more faith in the facts of the Bible, than in those of any other respectable quarto; that you build no bright hopes upon its promises, 42 I 43 page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] 44 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. ~ 4I~ fI~ t '~ I "p II '~1 II 1k II '4$ fr4~1 p1f~ I ~4f'; ~ '4 "4' .1 I. that you fear not its threatening, and that you feel under no obligation to obey its commandments. B. I do. I say, too, that I see at least a score of works on those shelves yonder, philosophical, his- torica~I, poetical, and ethical, for which I have quite as much admiration and reverence. A. '(flowing full well, too, when you say it, th~~( the learned, wise; and good men of The last nineteen centuries, have nearly all received it, and bowed down before it, as the Word of God. B. True, true. I know, too, the utter insignifi cance and worthlessness of any opinions of mine upon this and upon all subjects. Still, I must be honest about it. I have read some few of the writ- ings of the great and good men you speak of. I should be sorry to think that I did not, in some small degree, appreciate the force of their genius, the zeal, learning, ingenuity, eloquence of these illustrious champions of the Church. But if; after all, my own slender and feeble 1~J~erstanding remains uncon- vinced, I must claim the liberty of saying so. A. Certainly. But not to dwell upon this point at present, let mc 'further ask you, do you see no~ thing in God's book of nature, or in the workings of His providence, or in the phenomena of your own heart, ~Iereon to ground a faith in immortality? B. I do not. I see abundance of material for hope, fear, conjecture, but no evidence at all satisfhc- tory. So far as my poor senses can interpret this 141 CLOUJ)S AND SUNSLJINI~ same bo6k of nature, they tell me that all is over at the grave; that this soul and body, as we call them, t are born, ~ro~v, and die together; that I have not .1 had any previous existence, and why then ar~y future one; that wheiY the brain is wounded, the soul is F4' wounded-when it slumbers, the soul slumbers- j when it is destroyed, the soul is destroyed. You , I will, of course, repudiate their testimony ; will have ~ ~ it, that the spirit survived but you will not,, and. cannot answer any one of the ten thousand. c{ues- tions of the doubter. You cannot begin to explain the nature of that partnership, of which you say death is the dissolution. how does the mind act? Separate, if you can, the several f~cultie5 and. pro~ it cesses whereby I perceive, and remember, and. rca- son, and. moralize. Give us the analysis. Show us how the machinery works, while the man is alive, before, rashly and. dogmatically pronouncing upon the phenomena of death. Whither does this sur- viving spirit go 3 IDoes it still linger about the earth, or does it straightway pierce the clouds and. the air, and soar far away into the illimitable ether? What bright, what dark scenes does it visit? When does it return, and. what tidings does it bring of its wanderings? Where is it in sleep, in swoons, in trances?' Till you can begin to shed some little comfortable light on any of these points, cease *to wonder, or to chide, if I can find in the phenomena I, 4 '4 I page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] F around me, rno materials for any rational, much ,less any lively faith in an hereafter. A. But the daily occurrences of life, its mnequal- ities, casualties, bereavements.; the innocent suffer- in gs, the unpunished iniquities, that-cach hour bears witness to; how can you explain these things, how reconcile them to the goodness and justice of God, save by the life to come ? B. What do I know of the goodness and justice of God ? What data have I for forming any opin- ion, one way or the other ? For aught you can show to te. contrary, He may be capricious and cruel. This sounds horribly to, you, of course;- but is it one whit more presumptuous and impertinent than to take the opposite ground ? What would you say to a poor, ignorant ilibernian; who, after a two days' 'residence in this country,(j ould undertake to pronounce upon the attributes o~ the government, either in the way of eulogy or condemnation-? -You would tell the 'fool to hold his peace ; that he knew nothing about it, and that it would be infinitely more becoming in him to keep his 'gratuitous and worth- less opinigis to himself. Just so gratuitous and worthless seem to me the opinions of us poor fools of' nature, upon the attributes of God's government;. opinions based on our feeble, scanty investigations of some few natural laws, in this little corner of cre- 'ation. The idea of our speaking in a positive, per- emptory .way, either pro or con, is monstrous.- 46 I CLOUDS AND) SUNSHINE, CLOUDS AND SUNS3HINE. 41 ~I h~1 ~ [1 r II I [p i1~ I B i~i Ii H I A I I What do we know about it ? What do we know of God's motives, in making earth or man? The whole panorama of life may have been got up, awl may be kept going, without any particular regard for our welfare, but for the amusement and instruc- tion of some other order of beings ; an experiment for them to'learn by. Or it may have been a mere wanton display of creative power. Who can tell? Who can tell if Goal does actually govern the world ? He may have abandoned it to inferior intelligences, who, while they are incapable of destroying his ex- quisite workmanship-nevertheless so bungle matters, that we poor mortals are thereby involved in contin- ual vexations and mishaps. We know nothing about it. All is sheer guess-work. We have no opinions, worthy the name;: we have our whims, and humors, and conjectures, varying as a man's health varies, or his capacity, or his 'situation in life, or -the conipany he keeps;- and above all, modified by the temperaments our parents give us. You, my friend, are by constitution an optimist, and are forever dwelling on the cheerful aspect of things-the flow- ers and fruits, the music and beauty of nature. 1 ride in the regiment of grumblers (so, at lea st, you say), and dwell with corresponding power and elo- quence- on the tornados, diseases, reptiles, poisons, follies, crimes, that I see scattered about, in such frightful profusion. But are we- not both equally *wide of the mark;- mere ignorant chatter-boxes ? Th~ [ page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] ii" K II The truly wise man smiles at us both, confesses tim profundity of his ignorance, and holds his peace. A. Charming doctrine, this! How delightf~1a one to impart to a child, or to comfort a mourner with, or to encourage a poor penitent! A doctrine ~that turns all prayers and thanksgiving into a mdckery; that converts all the bounties of God into caprices, all the sorrows and sufferings of life into wanton dis- plays of cruelty! But go on. Let us have all the articles of this lovely faith of yours. B. You accuse rn~ of ~being sarcastic. I think you are quite a proficient in the art. I was merely answering your own question. I say again, I' don't pretend to explain the ten thousand mysteries and miseries of life. 1 have no opinion, one way or the other. I see things, certainly, that seem to speak of a kind Creator, and bountiful provider above; I see others that look ~ll harshness and injustice. I saw but yesterday, a spectacle that II confess seemed to me alike unnatural and cruel; I saw a sweet young bride, torn by a merciless disease from the arms of her husband, and from all the delights and endearments' of home and consigned in a narrow box to the damp ground. II saw, recently, three lovely children~, snatched away by the same fell agent of death, all within a few hours; borne off from loving parents, and from the bright joys and hopes of childhood, and laid side by side together in the dismal tomb. Every hour, as you say, bears witness to' such occurrences; every hour shows us the sufferers by others' crimes and vices ; shows us good men involved in perpetual mishaps, and sleek scoundrels thriving in their iniquity, and going down to their graves, unwhipt of justice. Who can com- prehend these puzzles? If I say that they betray a cruel or negligent Creator, you take me to* ta~k at once as a heathen and a rebel; as rashly, in turn, pronouncing them the manifestations of God's love, and the pledges of immortality. But are not both criticisms alike worthless? Are we not utterly in the dark? I certainly cannot derive any comforta- ble faith from such phenomena. What is such faith, but the mere creature of vanity and self-love? We don't like to be treated in this way. We don't like to' be de~p rived of our friends and comforts thus. Wounde~1 pride, and mortified vanity, and *dis~p- pointed.ambition, all p test against such dealings; all join in the cry for an hereafter. We insist upon. it. We call on God to explain himself, and to clear up Ilis conduct. We poor worms of the dust call on the great Creator to demonstrate to our satisfac- tion, the accordance of His dispensations with our notions of justice! But suppose He should not con- descend-to do so? - Suppose He should utterly with- hold from us the illumination, and the compensation, that we so clamor for ! What then? What are we to do about it? 'Who shall presume to read the riddles of the Almighty? It may be a part of God's plans, 48 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 49 48 49 ft t ''V Ii $ If page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] ~4 'fjfj Jft~ '~ jb 1111 it;P~4~ ~f ft4~ .4; 5O~ CL that this puppet-show of earth is to continue for hun- dreds of thousands of years yet; the individual puppets all the time coming and going ; each gene-- ration destroyed in its turn, to make room for an- other, as flower supplants flower, or wee(l weed; the race still surviving, the entertainment still kept up, not for our edification or happiness, but for ~urposes to us unknown; a panorama perhaps, as I said be-' fore, for youthful angels to learn their lessons by, or to try their young wits and hands on, in the way of government. Who knows? it may be a part of those plans, that we shall all be annihilated be- fore another sun sets; tha.t this globe and all which it inherit, shall be crushed to dust ore then, or melted in some vast, fiery gulf; or if not thus vio- lently disposed of;. taken up, and thrust aside, hito some dark, silent corner of the universe, as so much old rubbish, or as an experiment with 3vbich the Creator has become completely tired out and disgust- ed. Why not? Who knows any thing about it? Such a consummation is not very palatable to our pride, certainly; such a reply to all our claims and entreatie~ may seem very harsh and cruel. Thit what are we to do? Here we are, poor, blind, igno- rant slaves, depending for every breath we draw on God's good will and pleasure. What cam we do but grumble, or grin and bear in silence, whatever he sees fit to send? A. Still more exhilarating and inspiring, these CLOUDS AND SUNSLItNE. 51 last sentiments of yours ! You improve as you pro- coed; to say nothing of the fine vein of filial piety and resignation that pervades them! B. You're severe* but recollect that this discus- sion is not of my seeking. You asked for my views, and you must take them as they come, however gloomy, or absurd, or wicked they may seem to you. A. Certainly; and I ask pardon for interrupting you thus unseasonably. Go on, go on. B. Well, I was merely about to add, that in this thorough and universal ignorance of the~ workings of God's providence, one conjecture appeared to me quite as admissible as another, and all alike unsatis- factory. Your cold-blooded philosopher would laugh at us both. He would say that all these occurrences, these inequalities, casualties, bereavements of which you speak, explain themselves pretty well, after all, if rightly considered, without any necessity for call-- ing in any hereafter. On the whole, he would tell you, the distribution of life's prizes and sorrows was a pretty equal one; that he who had a liberal share of the gifts of nature or of f5tune, had a correspond- ing share of cares and anxieties, just as the musician has his tortures, no less than his delights, that the unlearned ear is spared. And so with life's casual- tics. While, at iirst blush, they seem stunning, heart-rending things, on a more deliberate investi- gation they are found to have their bright sides. A steamboat blows up on the Father of Waters, carry- IGUDS AND SUNSHINE. I 4j * I it .4: page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] CLOUDS AND SUNSHiNE. CLOIJI)8 ANI) SUNShINE. 'I' '-4 ing with it its hundred victims. Is it harsh to say, that full half of these victims were~ useless, nay mis- chievous members of the community'? If some val- uable labor and talent have been withdrawn from it, more drunkards, and gamblers, and reckless fellows of all sorts, have been cut short in their career of folly and knavery. Tl~e apparent wrong is, after all, a benefit to society. The same with the bereave- ments of life. There are such things as broken hearts, and griefs that death alone can cure; but oh, how rare! He would point quietly to the sta- tistics in the case, and ask if an overwhelming p~ajority ~f widowers and widows were not speedily reconciled to their losses did n~t often consider such bereavements as most seasonable separations of parties mutually disagreeable; and did not take unto themselves accordingly, second, third, fourth, yea, fifth mates successively, should their lives be sufficiently prolonged for such indulgences; obey- Ing, no doubt, the customary decencies of life; and going through the customary gradations of mourn- ing, in each ii~terval; but wearing, too often, jubilant hearts beneath their saiAe garments and hypocriti- cal countenances. The little children, too, who are borne each summer by thousands to 'their little graves, martyrs to dysentery and cholera infantum, how many of thedear things, had they lived, would have been presidents,~ or the wives of presidents, would have been true heroes or heroines in the strife 9h of life? how many might not have been poor, aban- (lofled drunkards or harlots? Some few, we know, must' have ended their days within pri~ofl walls, or have perished ignominioUSlY on The gallows. l9IIow much better, then, for them and the community; that they were swept away just as they were! And so would he go on, probably, smoothing over and ex- plaining away, all the ills anti sorrowS of life, with- out any reference whatever to any thing beyond the grave. Or' he might even go farther, and say that the great mass of men neither had any real confi- dence in, or care for a future life. They might go to church indeed, antI repeat creeds,~nd even pen obituaries, and put inscriptionS on tombstones to the contrary, but in their very heart~ and when talking and acting honestly in the matter, t~hey would ac- knowl~dge their skepticism and indifference. Nay, he wdild ask, do not their language and conduct be- tray them, in spite of themselves? If they really believed in a future state, would they talk of death as they do? Would they apply such epithets to it as they do? The sleep that knows ItO Waking , peaCe to his ashes ; he has gone to his long home; after life's fitful fever, he sleeps well; we are such stuff as dreams are made of, and oar little life is rounded with a sleep; what mean these and ten thousand such expressions, that we hear continually, if men really believed that death was a mere intro- duction to another world? Why do we dodge the 53 ii fi 94 2 I page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] V subject, too, as we do, and take refuge from it behind our pipes and pots? Why do we keep away from funerals, and out of church- yards as much .as. possible? Why (10 we lament over and pity the dead as we do, if they have only gone to sonic bright land before us? Why are we so anxious about the disposal of our remains? Would Shakspeare himself have expressed himself so feelingly about the repose of his bones, had lie really thought that in dying, he was merely exchang- ing his frail tabernacle of flesh for a more glorious body and a higher sphere of action? A. Excuse me, but I must interrupt this same philosopher of yours, for a moment. I should rather say, that had the poet not behicyod in an hereafter, he wouldn't have cared the toss of a copper about the matter. B. I can't agree with you. On the contrary, had he been a firm believer in immortality, he would, I think, have been at the same time far more indif- ferent about the disposal of his bones, and far more anxious about the disposal and preservation of his plays. A. Oh, no; the poet's indifference about the fate of his plays is, to my mind, far more agreeably and satisfactorily explained by the thought that, con- scious as he was of their merits, they nevertheless fell so far below the glorious ideal that was ever present in his mind, that he got out of patience with them. Nay, is there not a tradition that on being visited by a brother poet one morning, he threw aside his unfinished Othello in disgust, saying~ as he did so, "I hope the day will yet come, my friend, when I shall (10 something worth showing to the world"? B. I must say, I never heard that story. You must have dreamt it, I think. But we are wander- ing from the subject. Do not all these things, then, (our philosopher would ask), this clinging to the good things of life to the last possible moment, this unwillingness to think or talk about death, and the expressions ordinarily made use of in regard to it, all go to show the latent mistrust in men's minds of any thing beyond it? And do they not treat it ac- cordingly? When young, and hearty, and prosper- ous, death is then a presumptuous intruder, or rather a vile kidnapper, come to snatch them away from. the half-tasted banquet of life, from their boon corn- 3anions, and pleasures, and excitements; when old, and poor, and weary, and wretched, then is he a kind friend, who comes to light them to their beds, where they may straightway forget all .their aches, pains, and sorrows, in sweet and endless oblivion. Is not this, he would ask, and has it not always been, the real, honest creed of the great mass of the world? A. I don't believe it. I reject alike the facts and arguments of this plausible friend of yours. He I 4 54 CLOUDS AND SUNShINE. CLOUDS AND SUN8LIINE. fr~ 54 page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] I has not Cond~$cended by the way, to explain the Puzzling case of those others. umbra cod in my pies- tion ; I mean the victims of others' crimes anti vices, and the criminals themselves, whom human justice never overtakes. Does he dispose of them also, in the same oflA~and and superficial style? B. Well, he would tell us, of course, that God i~ not ~o be taxed with these evils, but man. 'Tis our own abuse of our freedom, that is at the bottom of all these troubles. If we lived right, if we obeyed the dictates of reason, there would be no Crimes or vices or wars or famines or diseases in the world. Every man would have his fair share of years and of com- forts. God has done his part. lie has given us the materials and ~apa cities for happiness, if we will only make a good use of them, flow monstrous to charge God with all the paupers and lunatics and criminals that deface society. 'Tis our own accursed folly and infatuation. iliad mei~ employed aright their time and powers, from the beginning, what a magnificent spectacle would earth and man both present, this day! IBut we have chosen to do otherwise, to give th~ reihs to our ~ppetit es and passions, and lo, the result. These evils explain themselves, and man must mend them, without calling on God or a future life, to iii- terpret them, or compensate for them. Let us live according to nature, and she will reward us accord- ingly. Natural geath, now fast becoming obsolete- will once more be heard of. Is it not sc~? In this I false, feverish life that we are leading, are we much better than suicides? Nay, worse than this, is not every other babe almost, that is born, a matricide? Call you this God's plan, or man's perverseness ?- Who can hesitate about the matter'? Who can doubt that if men set about it in earnest, these troubles would soon be remedied, the world be changed into a smiling garden, and that length of years, peace, plenty and prosperity would soon become the portion of every family between the poles? Every man would be as rugged and as flourishing as the trees of his own planting, and would give way at last, from sheer decay of nature; and so, with slowly dimmed perceptions, and gently fading faculties, drop quietly into his grave, and be gathered to his fathers; per- fectly contented to make way for the new-comers, and satisfied that he had got all God ever meant to give him; undisturbed by any idle Thars, unvexed by any idle aspirations after any thing beyond. Such would probably be his explanation. Of course, you reject it with disdain. But, after all, may he not be nearer the truth than either of us? Are not such views more sound and just than my growling, grum- bling ones, than my spectre-haunted and terrible hereafter, on the one hand, or than your fond, credu- bus reading of the book of life, your angels and an- gel-worlds to come, on the other? I can't help think-. CLOUDS ANJ) SUNSHINE. 57 ing so, at times. But here I am, prattling away, Ni N $1 36 CLOtUI~S AND 8UNSH1N1~, &T page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] "~ IL I my dear fellow, and having all the conversation t6 myself. A. Not at all. You are doing what I wishcd.-7- Go on. Speak out freely. I am anxious to know your real sentiments on these points. You have the fioor. Depend upon it, I shall claim the privilege of replying at length, in my turn. B. Certainly. A. Well, then, let me repeat the third branch of my question, though you have partially answered it already. Do you see nothing in the phenomena of your own heart, whereon to build a faith in immor- tality? Are you conscious of no desires that this world cannot meet, no capacities that it cannot de- velop, no ambition that all its prizes and conquests cannot satisfy? B. Candidly; 1 am not ; that is to say, when 1 look at those same phenomena, coolly and deliber- ately, and not through the magnifying glass of self- love. II do not see in myself any 'such thirst after knowledge, truth, or goodness, as this world cannot satisfy, and therefore none on which to base any reasonable claim to a future life. I confess I have a childish curiosity, at times, to know more about my Maker, and of these ~tars around me, and to find out what they are made of; and who occupy them, and to see the crops, and the curiosities, and the amusements, etc. A journey through the sky would be an agreeable novelty, no doubt. But ~hat is it, after all, but a mere traveler's fancy? What poor. man does not, at times, by the same rule, feel a desire to go round the globe, and have a peep at its different nations and kingdoms? But is it a reasonable, or practicable wish? has he any more right to grum- ble, if not indulged in it, than a small boy would have, because he may not be treated to the contents of every toy-shop and confectionery that he may happen to pass in the streets? Are such whims as these to be the basis of a claim to immortality.? If I I~ad a real, ardent wish to lead an arduous, honor- able career of truth and duty, hereafter, it would be one thing; but I detect no such generous ambition in my nature, no, nor any corresponding capacities. Yanity, indeed, may sometimes whisper in my ear, that I have parts and powers above my station ; that I might figure in a loftier theatre and drama than this earth affords; but meanwhile, how abominably I am playing the hi~mble part, the great Manager Ita.~ assigned me! How much knowledge i~ there here, that I have neither the wit nor the will to find out; now many golden opportunities of doing good, that I am too indolent and selfish to avail myself of! And what is worse, 1 see no symptoms of any thing better in myself. I can make cheap and copious confessions, to be sure; but as to any thorough, hearty reform, I have not the courage or grace to attempt it. If I were allowed another life, I should only throw it away as I haye this, so far. And, my K ~. I 58 CLOUDS AND SUNSLIINE.. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 59 I p i I ii I- It 58 59 page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 4? I CLOUDS AND ~3UNSiiINE. G 1 friend. ~ n speaking thus for myst li, (10 I i~ot speak br the great mass oC my brethren, from the begin- ning ? I do not dewy that there have been sonic brilliant CXCC'ptiOllS, scattered OVCL the pages of hu- man history, or the obscure annals ot daily 1db.- 'What particular action the Lord may see lit to take, in these rare cases, ~we may not presume to coujec- ture : but as for the majority of' us, are we entitled to any hereafter ? No, no ; let us find out more of~ God's secrets here, let us turn this earth into a fitr more respectable and agreeable place, before we pro- sunie to cry aloud foi' any other world. I see you consider these sentiments unjust, nay, libels on hu- man nature. I can't help it. I say it again ; I really believe that ninety-nine out qf every hundred of the sons of Adam. that have been born into the world, from Anno Mundi I. to this hour, have neither deserved nor desired any heaven worthy to be so called. They have always avoided the thought of an hereafter, when ~possible. and when forced to dwell upon it, what sort of c~n options have they formed of it? What. but this et/rth over, with such fanciful improvements, as each man's whims, humors, condi- tv~n, or temperament may have suggested. Let me illustrate the point a moment, by referring to our rxi:hb~rs. Take our fretful, nervous friend ~-, OpYcsite. What sort of a heaven is his, b utanex~ enaprkn from the petty annoyances of life; from corns. dims. mosquitoes. east win dsp, poor relations, I ilku long sermons, political (lisdussions, anniversary gath- ~s, national ,jubile~s, railroad eXcuiSIOriS from (Tifl(f J crowds and nOises. of all kinds. ive hun quiet, an oven temperature, an easy chair, a good fire, arid he papers, hot an(I punctual meals, a good bed to sleep in, a good toddy to sleep on, and the glorious privi- lege of grumbling upon all occasions, and his happi- ness is complete. Promise him a perpetuity of these things, and he will ask no brighter paradise. Our invalid neighbor would probably put up with much humbler arrangements. A r~ere tea-and-toast heaven, with a guaranty against a torpid liver, rebdl- lious bowels, and lying awake of nights, would no doubt satisfy his proudest hopes. Not so, though, with the gross epicurean, who lives alongside of him. Who cannot see at a glance, the ingredients of his cu~ of happiness ~? Viands, and dainties, and spark- ling ~vines, and the caresses of hours. and voluptu- ous i~usic; the utter oblivion, in a word, of every care and duty of life, in one eternal round of selfin- dulgence. Precious paradise his! And that hauzht~ beauty of a sister of his, has she any loftier concep- tions? No, her heaven is the preservation of that fine complexion, and attrac~iv'e figure of hers. Let her be petted, caressed, fazed, surrounded by wor- shiping beaux and bouquet-hcdders let heP be the cynosure of all eves at bails ~nd operas ensure her these, and will she nqt snap those pretty ~nzers ef hers, in disdain at all your spiritual jays ? ShE eon- Ad CLOUDS AND SUN5IIINfl. page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 4 i 1~4:4 4, CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. descCnd indeed, to become a pure, serene, thoughtful, ano'el di~itiful , (n humble chanter of her Maker's praise ! She would prefer extinction to aiiy such un- selfish, honorable part as that. She migi it be will- ing to take it for a moment, in some tableau vivant nothing more. IDe J wrong her, when I say that she would set infinitely more store by a sonnet, con- cocte(l by some fop, in honor of her eye-brow, than by the grandest anthem angel Aver Composed? A. Stop, stop. Don't be so cynical, so merciless in your criticisms. B. I am not cynical. I know the creature too well, and all her hollowness: beautiful, I grant you; yes, a superb spectacle, when duly arrayed and equipped for ball-room conquests ; but, my friend, dust, dust and ashes within. And that dainty and fastidious cousin of hers, that man of wit and taste, what sort of a place would' he turn heaven' into? What but a grand gallery to lounge in, filled with masterpieces, crowded with all manner of delicate thoughts in arabesque, and mosaic, and fresco, and relief-work; with comfortable sofas scattered about, whereon to loll, and to look along the beautiful per-~ spectives. and to have his fancy ministered unto by every form and attitude of beauty, and to trace all sorts of delicate analogies~ and to deliver himself of sharp and sparkling criticisms, and to be duly ap- plauded therefore by kindred spirits; a fancy heaven, a paradise of self-conc&it and super-refined sensu- ality. And our other neighbor here, . , the philosopher, as he sometimes presumes to call him- self; will his ideal of a future life bear inspection any better? What is it, but an indulgence in fine talk and dreamy speculation, over sempiternal pipes and coffee; weaving curious theories, and discussing nice problems, not to benefit his brethren or promote "the cause of truth, but for his own gratification, or to win the admiration of brother wits, who have in- telligence enough to keep his faculties agreeably stimulated, but not to shake his sway over their minds: a heaven, not so gross, certainly, but full as selfish as that of the epicure. And that silly wife of his, her heaven seems to be lying abed all day, reading novels; having at the same 'time, neither memory to retain, nor judgment to discriminate be- tween them. Nothing comes amiss to her, from the Lady of the Manor down to Jack Shepherd, from Peregrine Pickle to Salathiel. I dare say she is, this very minute, deep in her ten thousandth, with- out being one whit more wise or witty, than she was when cutting the leaves of her ~rst, a quarter of' a century ago; having' just about as intelligent an a precaution of the contents, as that board-fence op- posite, has of t e long generations of play-bills that have been pas ed upon it, for the last ten years. And will God c descend to humor such whims as these? Will lie perpetuate such a set of fools, fops, profligates, and self-seekers as most of us are A 62 4. CL0UD~ AND SUNSHINE. 6~3 A page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] t;4 CLOUVIS ANI) SUNSHINE. 65 (A~OUD~4 ANI) SUN8IIINE. Yes. I repent it. slanderer though you think me. 1 (lOfl~ b(djeVC thCl\' ~ a hUndred men Oil the round ~'lobe il~is mOfl'I( fl~ there mai/ be a~ many women). who would take. if they could get it. the spiritual heaven you speak of: a heaven of ~etive duty, of going about the universe (lO1~~ ~'ood. of temperancQ and faith. and holy meditation : no, they would alto- g'ether prefer annihilation. A. A meiancholy~ans~ver this.1 to my question. eei'tainly. Such ~ jews. from a man of threescore. would sound harshly enough : but in you. mu y friend; who are not yet near the top of life's hill. how un- natural. how repulsive do they appear fl. WciL I dare say I have ~ot old somewhat before m~ time. [But. acc~rdimig to your theory of life. why should a man of threescore Years have bore ZiOOm~ \~iCW5 than OflO of twemitv ? On the contrary, ought he not to be far more hopeful and enthusiastic. heinz 53 much farther on the road to that perfection which you say is his destiny ? Your lan~uaze and sentiments seem hardly consistent. The top of lifc'shilL indeed ! Don't that very form of speech betray the real feelings of men on this subject? Would they use such language. if they thought life was only the ,first step of an endless progress? Would- A. Excuse me. but this sounds to me very much like livper-criticism. In discussing a~l subjects, we must. of course. draw our illustrations from familiar 64 65 objects. liE my faith5 like yours, rested merely on the evi(lenCO of' my senses, II should acknowledge the Lree of your remark. But I do not care to ar- gue the point at present. Go on, finish what you were ~OIfl gto say. B. I was merely going to~ add, that the phe- nolnena that I see in my own heart, and in those of others, in connection with these same advancing years of' life, only ten(1 to make me more and more distrustful and indifferent about a future existence. What are they? A word or two on this head, and I surrender the floor. Youth, I grant you, is not without its generous impulses, its lofty aspirationS, its dreams of victory over the ignorance and wicked- ness around it. There is something beautiful in its faith and enthusiasm, its gay visions and gorgeous cloud-palaces. Its very failings are not without their fascinations. But how long do these things last? how long is it before we begin to doubt and criticism our brethren? How soon, alas, does Cufl- tact with the world rob youth alike of its lustre and of its hopes ! How soon does the uncomfbrtabie business of self-inspection begin; the cross-~Iues- tioning of each desire and motive; the constant dis- covery of latent evil, in our own hearts, and those of others ; the dreary task of analysis; the pulling to pieces of all the bright creations that before so engaged and cheered us, and the erection of far dif- ferent structures in their stead, where suspicion sits page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] pit f 1K ~, ii ;!'t: '4' II 'a ~4~ * ever watchful at her window, and selfishness ever guards thc portal ! Ilow skepti&il, and calculatijio' aiid sordid do most of ~us become, 1long before reach- ing iniUdle life'! how do we weigh, and measure, and cotmt the cost alikb of avery pleasure and ,of cverv.ta~k ! There is something~ to forgive in the heedless dissipation' of youth ; but this cool, ~cien'- tifle sensuality of middle ago, thi~ deliberately strik- ing the balance between evexy indulgence and its price, in the way of h&d~h, or property, or rep~ta- tion, this arithmetical debauchery, how, dis~ustip is 0 it ! And yet how all but universal ! If we gain in vigor of intellect; too. as we advance, do we Pot lose in loftiness of ideal? We may have clearer percep- tions, and more tenacity of purpose; we may grasp a few things more firmly, but that ndble ambition afte~' excellence iI~ all things, where is it'? Does nc~t e~{ry added hour find us with a lower standard of goodness and of greatness m ore disposed to ac~ quiesce in small performances ; more willing to fore- go the pursuit. now of this accomplishment, now of that branch of science, no~ of the other plan of be- nevolen Ce; and to concentrate our faculties upon mere money-making. or offlce-seeki~g, or the acqui- sition of a c4fortable position in Society? And so on, on, with the horizon ever growing narrower and narrower, even to old age. And what do we see in old age, even in its pleasantest aspects, that re- minds us of that immortal life and endless progress I CLOUI)3 ANI) SUNSLITNE. 67 you speak of? WhaIJ, at best, but a quiet resigna- lion to fate, and conviction of the folly of struggling with the decrees of nature, and not a ii eful look- ing forward to the future; arid as we ordinarily see it, a fretful, peevish thing, jealous of little attentions, fhr more anxious about its meals and small comforts, than about its own gro th in grace or the progress of the race ; singing the praises of old times, per- haps, in feeble strains of mingled vanity and regret, but seldom or ever pointing us to any bright vfsta beyond the grave; spelling of that grave, in which it is so soon to be laid, not as the portal of eternity, but as the. end of the journey, the long home, the place of rest~ how can you reconcile such phe- nomena as these, such language as this, with the doctrine of imn~ortality'? I know you will reject this as an untrue picture. You will deny that the mind decays with the body. You will say that th~ senses bear false witness in this matter ; that this apparent~ imbecility and peevishness are merely on the surface; that the Soul itself is as sound, and bright, and hopeful as ever, could we get at it, with- drawing more and more as it do~s~t6 its inner world, ais its means of communication with the outer one are impaired. I must differ with you~ I can- not recognize the truth of this version. There is a kind of attractive plausibility about it, at £rst blush; but it soon resolves itself into a mere comfortin~ suggestion of our own self-love. At least it deems (36 CLOUDS ANI) '~li1NE. '4 page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] p ~I. ~'t~ ~Il Y II' 4 p It f~LOUt)5 ANi) 5UN~4111NE. 4LOUI)8 AND SUNSIIINB. so to me. I3ut why multiply words? I can ofily repeat, by way of conclusion to this feeble reply to your questions that the more I think of all these thiiigs, the less disposed am I to believe i~i any fu- ture life, or to see any other destiny in store for my- self, than for the tree that may have chanced to give me shade or shelter when li~ ~ or that may wave over my bones when I am gathered to my fathers. I have done. A. Still the same gloomy conclusion, then; and the road that leads to it full as gloomy ! I don't wonder, my friend, that you are a dull, moddy, soli- tude-seeking man. You ow~1it to be wretched, with such a horrible creed as this. That it is utterly un- sound. that it blasphemes God, that it libels man, that 4t stands in the way of all true progress and peace, are. I think, demonstrable propositions. I may not have the ability to demonstrate them to your satisfaction. I certainly do not propose to under- ta~ e any such task to-day. Still I should like to be heard in reply, when we meet again. I should like to splinter a lance, humble champion that ii am, in behalf of the blessed cause of Faith and hope, and see if I can make no impression on this frightful skepticism of yours. B. Sob e it, then. I am bound to listen, though this discussion was not of my seeking. If my opin- ions are so very frightful, I ought certainly to try to exchange them for something better. Ii will hear patiently~ awl if conViflCC(I (though I confess I do not anticipate any such result), I hope I shall be honest enough to say so. A. Very well, then; I claim the floor for to- morrow, and so, my dear friend, good morning. B. Addio. 68 69 I, page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] CONVERSATION III, A. AND now, my dear friend, I propose, to re- ply, somewhat at length, and in order, to the re- marks that fell from you yesterday. You began, you remember, by saying that even if you were to live hereafter, and be transferred to other worlds, you felt n'o confidence that you would be a gainer thereby; that this world and man, bad as they were, might, after all, be God's master-works, etc., etc. Now I must say, this notion of yours seems to me altogether fanciful and unsound, opposed to all that science teaches us about the 1~niverse, utterly op- posed to all our ideas of proportion and harmony. had you started prPcisely the opposite doubt, you would have been far nearer the mark. I should haye put the question thus Can it be that this earth, filled as it is with life and beauty, crowded as it is with specimens of creative wisdom and good- CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 71 ness, is, after all, anything more than a mere intro- duction to grander things to come? or that man with all his marvellous gifts, can furnish us with any but a very feeble image of the powers and attributes of grander performers on grander theatres of ac- tion? I should feel as a stranger would, standing before the sculptured portal of some vast cathedral; not, that the architect had exhausted all his skill on the outside, but all the more eager to explore the world of splendor and majesty within, of which it was thearnest. If this planet of ours, with its scanty proportions, and its narrow circuit through space, is yet so laden with lovely and precious things, what must the treasures and splendors be, of the hundred-fold greater Jupiter? If a summer evening on earth be so charming, with its soft moon- light and lustrous stars, what sort of a spectacle must that be which is nightly presented to the fa- vored inhabitants of Saturn? And why may they not have a correspondingly greater power of appre- ciation and comprehension of that spectacle? have faculties oi~ mind and body, compared with which those even of a Milton are faint and feeble? Why may not the science, and art, and poetry, and faith of Saturn, have a corresponding grandeur, anti beau- ty, and fervor, which we humble occupants of earth can hardly imagine? This it seems to me, would be the more fair and philosophical way of putting this question. Again, this idea of yours is, as I 9 page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] I 72 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. said at the time, directly opposed to the promises of the Bible. You immediately replied, however, that you had no faith in those promises, or in their divine origin; and you straightway began to draw a most unbecoming and profane parallel (excuse me, but I must call it so) between the-Scriptures and the plays of Shakspeare. -Had the poet himself been by to have heard it, he would have been the first to frown indignantly at any such comparison, or at the thought of naming all the uninspired writers of earth put together, in the same breath with that blessed book. Do, my dear friend, revive your re- collections somewhat of those same parables and epistles you spoke of so slightingly, ay, and of the Psalms and Prophets, before venturing on any such criticism again. I will not dwell lorig upon this point. You say you have read several of the writ- ings -of the -more illustrious champions of Chris-. tianity, but without being convinced by them. Why then waste any feeble words of mine 3 I can only reply that we differ loto colo.. My. mind is con-. vinced, overwhelmed by the weight of evidence for it, internal and external. Its, long array of wit-. nesses, sealing their testimony with their blood ; the entire harmony of the sacred writers on all essential points of fact or doctrine, strengthened as it is by their occasional differences on unimportant ones ; thie precious quality of the truths revealed ; their quan- tity also, enough to give us cheerful hopes and comn- ill / *'~1 !If CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 7 fortable glimpses of the life to come, and not enough painfully to pique our curiosity, and so seduce us 'from the legitimate tasks and enjoyments of earth ; the feeling of the absolute necessity of some such tidings from heaven, as the, only thing that could meet the great crying want of humanity, the only s lu- tion of and balm for the troubles and sorrows of life ; what have I to say, on these and kindred topics, that has not been a hundred fold better said already?~ Thc idea of rejecting such a revelation as this, is to my mind inconceivably painful and horrible ; and the idea of criticising, or finding fault with it, be- cause it contains things not quite in accordance with our humble notions of the sublime and beautiful, or because it contains puzzles too deep for our frail wits, seems to me the 'very height of impertinence and presumption. As well might the rescued sailor presume to criticise the vessel that had just snatched him from destruction, or the prophet of God to have sneered at the very chariot that bore him to heaven. But to proceed. I next asked you, if you saw no- thing in the great volume of nature, on which to build a rational faith in immortality. Was it not so ? B. It was ; and I replied, that so far as I could make out the contents of that same volume, with these poor senses of mine, their report seemed to be on the side of annihilation. A. Even so ; and you went on to ask a series of I I V ''1 I I 4 page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 4~t 4 (JLCWf)~4 AN[) sf;NSIIJNE. qU('5t~fl~. ~I5 tO (110 tVUO mivire ol the Thi;ivi~~ be Iwoen soul and bo(iv. and tho moment of death ClOstions to which flO human I)O1P$22 Over dii or ever (Th. ~JVO any Sati8f~'ietony s'w(hrs, ~I~iP ~Viat of : Is the iHtOPCviCO WhiTh you won Id derive from this nnporh'oIic~i of the sensor. awl our visequent flOI'~1W0. the jns~ one ? Oh no. no. It 'ems to mE~ fh~P as in the previous ~Ofl ot the eot1~ara tive ~-ahies vt earth an~nan. and of the other ~xorIds ahout us ant their inhabitants. so in this von ought to have tak4Cil inst the opposite ground. You ought to ha~-e ar~ned thus if these senses, of earth. Ijin- ited and perishiuc as they are. vet do their offices so thorouzhW within the ran ~e assigned them. what onicnona will not be reve~iei to me. "hat nwste~- rms ThM exphrinoi. ~hen. in G-ods ~I season. I am en~llwe~ v~izn facu~ties more subtle and po~erfuI V these fraL senses of earth vet manifest to me. m mvsel: anu in all around me. such evidenees of di- vine skill and hounn-, what ma~ I uci expect to b& 1~w aim to re~lize, ~ben en3owed with the glorious orzaiiizazion of an anzcd If this delicate. sb rink- WZ. scnsmv ev~ of mine hath vet such ma~nifeent blQUrCS sr~rea~i CU r~eThre ;ris tender. easily v r wounded ear is thin ~nLz~ru sterel unt~. wiia: n~ust be the beaur-~ and the music. what iLe revt:ations of aJJ sorts. that are ~cueLsafej unn anzeiw Peeppo~ ~ rLc2wrT ThEfV I 7(0? ior~k fL~r- warci tc ~ucL I'ercep:icrns. an~ ta ~ ~ ate to tbern ? 'II he J(lCa that there IS nothing worth seeing or knowing in the universe, oft' this litt1~ e~irth ; that (Al has exhausted all lbs resourceS and if is kindness on one small fragmentt of his works, is, as I said before, one which4 the mind in- stinctively r~ject5 ; nay, it is precisely the opposite 0110 that is irresistibly forced upon it, and That all ~the (liSCOVOrICS of science, be they in the skies above us, or in the dew-drops at our feet, are continually strengthenifig and confirming. hf then, these won- (lers, thus feebly shadowed forth on earth, do exist, far more profuse and perfect, in more favored worlds, why may we not be permitted to visit those worlds, and to contemplate those wonders? If God has gratified u~ thus far, if lie has let us into some few of the secrets of His creation, and has thereby aroused our curiosity and stimulated our ambition, will he let us penetrate no farther-? Were. then, the powers of a Shakspeare to be exerted on ea~th alone? Was he to study human hearts and portray human passions only ? Was a Newton doomedd to be a mere pebble-gatherer on the shore of truth, and were none of the treasures of the great deep to be revealed to him? Was a liersehel to be teazed with a few stray glimpse of the wonders of the skies, and there an end? Who can. believe it? Is it not more reasonable and fair. then. to cherish cx- pectations of a future life. tbunded on our experi- '~'nce hci~e~ thati to take the ground yoa do. and ~o *t 71 OUDS' XNV' S~1i\5H1~T\E. I, t page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 CLOUDS AND SUNSHiNE. call in our senses as witnesses on the side of skepti- cism and materialism, and to argue from their imper- fections, against the existence of all phenomena be- yond their grasp? These same phenomena of death, this giving up the ghost as we call it, this wondrous process, far too subtle and delicate for our feeble per- ceptions, how simple an operation may it not be to more curiously and rarely organized being; and jus as palpable a matter of observation and calculation to him, as to us the beating of the pulse, or the changes of the countenance. But, my dear friend, does not a moment's reflection teach us, how utterly unsuitable any such organization would be for us? Suppose such a revelation y'ere made to our senses; suppose we could, trace the flight of the spirit from the bed of death, till it were lost in the depths of space, would we be the gainers by any such addition to our knowledge? Wouldn't it only serve to unfit us the more for the duties of life?. Why, all the world would stand gazing curiously at the heavens, or would be hurrying away in pursuit of the depart- ed ones; earth would los~ all charm for us, would soon be abandoned to neglect and decay. Just as any more explicit statements in God~s word* would have been inappropriate, so any more light shed upon our senses on these points, would have only im- paired our affection for those about us, and have taken ~way the due interest from our tasks and rel- ish from our enjoyments, here. Who can help see- CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 77 t 1 in4 that we have just the organization, alike in its strength an(lrn its weakness, for our position; the organization that makes us at once the appropriate and willing instruments for carrying out God's de- signs on earth? And is it not fair to infer, from this exquisite adaptation of means to ends here, that when we take our leave of earth, we shall receive a neW endowment of faculties, just as felicitously contrived for the new and loftier scenes and employment that await us? isn't it quite as reasonable a view of the subject as yours, to say the least? B. Perhaps it is; at the same time there seems to me to be a most uncomfortable preponderance of hy- pothesis over fact, in all such speculations. But I must not interrupt you. You were to be the talker, you know, I the listener, to -day. A. Well then, let me say a word or two more on this point. The more we examine this same argu- ment of yours, which would ignore the existence of an hereafter, upon the imperfect testimony of the senses, the more and more untenable does it appear. For how many processes are going on continually around us, just as much without the range of those senses, as is the translation of the soul in death. I am not speaking of the tricks of jugglers, or of cu- rious experiments in science, but of the most familiar mental operations that every moment bears witness to; that marvellous process, for instance, whereby a few words ~ung or spoken will melt an audience to 76 page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] CLOUDS AM) SUN5J1INf~. CLOUDS ANT) SUNSHINE. tears, or ~onvulsc them with laughter ; that subtle alchemy whereby, at the sight of a little. (51'055, the hardened ruffian is straightway converted into the trembling, crouching penitent ; in a word, all those curious inscriptions, 1)0 they sad or Joyous, beautiful or loathsome, that the passions are perpetually writ- ing upon these countenance~ an(l forms of ours; what light, I ask, do tit C senses sited upon these phenomena? The effects are ever before us, but the processes themselves, are they not as completely be- yond the cognizance of those senses as the soul's flight is in the dying hour? Certainly they are and the only difference that I can see in the two eases is this, that in the one the effects are necessa- rily presented to us, for our well-being and guidance through life, while in the other, they are as wisely withheld from us, because the perception of them would utterly unfit us for all hfe's duties and enjoy. ments. So it seems to me, and I should therefore think it just about as i~nreasonable, to call in ques- tion the imi~ortality of the soul, because I cannot trace~ the actual' separation of that soul from its body, in the act of dying, as I would to call in ques. tion the reality of thz~e telegraph, because I cannot trace with these eyes the flight ~ its mysterious messenger along the wires. Let me then, in conclu- sion, once more staie my proposition. I say, then, that it appears to me far more rational and philoso- phical to infer a continued existence, with new pow- ( 78 79 'I (~1'S Ifl flOW spheres of action, from our actual exist- (11CC hero, and the wonders that this life reveals to us, than to argue against it, simply because our senses cannot solve the problem of death. B. Or, in other words, you are for carrying the good, old-fashioned motto of "Live and Learn" be- yond the grave. A. Even so. But to our next point. I. then asked you, how you could reconcile the daily occur- rences of life to God's goodness and justice, gave by an hereafter; arid what was your answer? A most unsatisfactory, a most gloomy one. You quarreled with my premises. You said that for aught you knew, God might be a capricious and cruel being; that you had just as much right to take that ground as I the opposite; that neither of us had any data for any intelligent opinion on the subject, &c., &c. You threw doubt on that great cardinal truth of truths, in which the mind has sought refuge; in all ages, the goodness of the Creator. You would de- prive us of that feeling of filial love and confidence towards 6-od, which every child instinctively feels towards his eart ly parent. bay, you went on tt) as~some ~cro~ describe him, vile N throwing ~orlds about, in sheer wantonness, or crushing them to pow- der, or. tossing them inti dismal gulfs of fire. Mon- strous conception! The idea of our Father in Hea- ven's taking up this earth of his. a~d. without one glance of pity either for his own work or fbr man's, page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHtNE. 81 (1 heedless alike of its pleading beauty and of all the recollections clustering round it, of its hallowed spots, its sacred battlefields, of the homes of the living and the resting-places of the dead, of the cries of its poor innocent women and children, of the infirmities of age and the helplessness of infancy, without one word of \ warning or explaiiation, no, not even giving us tjme to toll our bells, or say our prayers, or chant one last sad funeral hymn together, and so expire with de- cency, but, in the twinkling of an eye, and in the veriest caprice of tyranny, consigning us to a destrQc- tion so cruel and ignominious, such an idea as this, how revolting, how blasphemous is it! how can you, how can you, iivy friend, allow your imagination to wander in such forbidden paths? You, who have been so blest of heaven, \YhQ have been permitted to taste so many of the beauties and bounties of nature; who, this very summer past, while others have been chained to their desks, prisoners in sultry cities, have been free to go forth among the sublime and beautiful scenes of earth; whom I have seen gazing delightedly on lake and mountain and waterfall; you, who have been surrounded by havingng grain- fields, and fruit-laden trees, and the music of birds and bees, and the sweet company of flowers, scattere(i o'er fields and hillsides, or daintily arrayed in gardens; you, my friend, to preach such a doctrine as this, and to call in question God's goodness, when it has been thus inscribed all around you, in letters of light, .1 81 attested by myriad forms of loveliness ! Thank heaven; I look with far different eyes upon these things, I read far different lessons in them. They tell me, not of heaven's unkindness, but of my own unworthiness; of my own frail, sinful nature; of my tardy, scanty thanks for all this munificence; they bid me awake from my sloth and self-indulgence, and be hearty and diligent in my duties, and so earn an entrance into worlds still more bright and beautiful, still more crowded with tokens of a father's love.-- But, my friend, you did not stop there; you would accuse your Maker of neglect, as well as cruelty. Beautiful consistency, indeed! One moment you call God a tyrant, and the next you attribute all the evils of life to the mal-admini~tration of inferior in- telligences, to whom he has abandoned the charge of earth. Abandoned the charge! How, can you use such language; you, (excuse my being again thus personal) who see the north star nightly from your chamber-window, who hear the constant music of the waves that wash your own lovely villa, and the punctual morning service of the birds, and the faith- ful evening chants of the insects; the meanest peb- tIe of whose garden-walks, bears witness to the care and bounty of God; how can you, I say, talk thus, thus call in question the reality of the divine gov- eminent; with all this exquisite machinery in mo- tion about you, this prodigality of thought expended on the very minutest details* that appertain unto page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] I 82 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. your comfort and well-being? But I ~will not stop *to argue such a point as this. You then went on to throw suspicion on the feeling itself, which leads us all instinctively to refer to another life, for the solu- tion of the mysteries and sorrows of this. What is it, after all, you asked, but mere mortified vanity or wounded pride, or disappointed ambition? A pretty basis, indeed, to build a faith upon! Yes, 'you were for resolving it all into the mere idle clamor of chil- dren at having their sports stopped, their toys taken from them; the mere remonstrance of self-love, vexed and indignant at being cut short in the midst of its follies and indulgences. As unjust in this, to your brethren, as before to your Maker: as if no noble career wais ever interrupted by death, no laud- able ambition thwarted, no holy zeal for others' good untimely snatched away from its labors, no pure and lofty genius cut down in the morning of its triumphs, no single case ever made out of a fair claim on God's equity, for light or recompense hereafter. Such an explanation belies humanity. Take the, case, too, of the poor penitent, who from his bed of death looks back upon a misspent lifp, who feels how miserably he has fallen below 'that ideal of excellence that is yet ever present to him, who in the anguish and bit- terness of his heart prays God yet to give him a chance to redeem his character; not to be released from punishment, but after the dread penalty is paid, to reappear in some brighter world, and by a CLOUDS AND su: SIJLNE. 83 long career of faithful service, atone for all the fob lies and the sins of earth ; do you mey~n to say there is nothing pure and genuine in such a feeling as this? Will you explain it all away into a mere childish whim, or morbid vanity, or selfish shrinking from annihilation? I do not accept any such inter- pretation of the matter; nor do I believe that God will turn a deaf ear to such a claim as this; still less to the cries of innocent suffering, or the prayers of a true ambition, and thus cruelly shut the door in thA'aces of His poor children. As to the idea you suggested, that this world may have been construct- ed, not for man's welfare, or for his education and preparation for loftier scenes, but as a mere puppet- sho~~,to amuse youthful angels with, and after hav- ing, served it's turn, ~o be thrown aside, like some old, worn-out panorama in a museui~,to make way for some new entertainment, so far from being rea~ sonable, it seems to me the veriest caprice of an o' erective fancy. And yet, you seemed to think this explanation quite as~admissible 'as any other, and that we were utterly in the dark as to all Goa's plans and motives all opinions (so you said), are alike worthless on the subject; what do we know about it? what are we, at the best, but poor, blind, ignorant captives, utterly at God's mercy; what can we do but grumble, or else bear in grim silence, whatever He sees fit to inflict? Yes, you spoke of our Father in heaven, just as the poor tenants of the ':1 page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 85 CJ~OfJl)8 ANT) SiJN5FJfN~. 84 dismal dungeons of Venice might have spoken of the cruel and mysterious o'ovcrnmcnt of which they were the victims. I terrible pervei'sien ; utter mis- reading of the text of the great volume of provi- dence ! But, my friend, when I taxed you w.i th these sentiments, as being alike unreasonable a unfilial towards God, you chopped suddenly round, and from grumbler turned cynic. You intro(luee(l, you remember, a philosophical gentleman on the car- pet. A pretty philosopher, truly ! Allow inc to say that he had far more of the squalor of the tub, than of the dignity of the academy, about l~im. his was a very pleasant, off-hand solution of the prob- 1cm of evil. He thought this world explained itself; on the whole, quite satisfactorily, withQut bothering our brains about an~ ~ther; that the inequalities anti accidents of life resolved themselves away into pretty much nothing, when critically investigated that the punishment of having to take care of one's property, was about equal to the blessing of owning it; that an ear for music was the source df quite as much torture as pleasure to its owner; that such casualties as fhe burning of the Henry Clay, for in- stance. or the sinking of the Atlaut~c, far from being the themes of lamentation, or of indignant re- monstrance, were en the whole, blessings, as tending to rid society of far more nuisances and villains, *1 than they deprived it of valuable citizens; and that the sufferers themselves, were they reasonable, WOUl(I take that view of the suhject. Ito would say to one of' those sufferers, whose heart might still be bleeding for the loss of some (lear w~fo or (laughter, "Cheer up, my friend, cheer up; true, you have been suddenly deprived by this disaster of loved companions; but hark'ye, a word in your ear. Krrnw then, that when this accident occurred, there was a the fo gang of counterfeiters on re part of the boat, and that every rascal of' thorn has perished, together ~ with the implements of their accursed trade. Many similar facts connected with this occurrence have also come to light, all going to show, in the aggre- gate, a most decided balance of good, with which it ought to be credited on the books of the community, and which fairly earns for the individuals who caused it, the title of benefactors. how unreasona- ble, then, how unpatriotic your grief! So cheer up, dry your tears, and be a man." Such would be the consolations of your philosophical friend. Oh. out upon such shallow sophistry, such hideous mockery.1 as this! In the same heartkss, flippant way did he speak of all life's bereavements~ Death was a kind friend, come to put a stop to family jars; decreeing divorces that were not to be had in chancery, and so paving the way for other and more agreeable alli- ances; death in infancy, especially~ was a matter ~f cono'ratulation; the dear thincrs were thereby dcliv- ered from far more temptations and troubles, than they were defrauded of en2ovlnents: let the bened~c- page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 CLOUDS AND SUNSIIINi:. tiO~S of patrulrelv~ say what they will, let the hearts 01 mothers 1)1(3(1 as they will, for length of days for their loved OUCS ; they are wrong, wrong in the mat~* ter ; illerod was rio~ht ind ~, of the slaughter- ~ ~ the (bAr od innocents was a blessed day for Judea. Charm- ing conclusions ! Beautiful tribute to the wisdom and goodneSS of the Creator! He then went on to say that the great mass of men, however much they might i~4~y the hypocrite in public on the subject, yet in their ~cry hearts were alike skeptical and in- different about a future life; nay more, that their language and conduct betrayed them in spite of themselves. He would have made out the groat poet lihuself a materialist, on the strength of his epitaph, and of some few equivocal expressions scattered over his plays; as if for every one such passage, there were not a thousand that would be alike worth- less and meaningless, save on the supposition of an here fter. I could cite fifty from Hamlet itself, of this ription. Let me repeat a few only: Do not, forever, with thy veiled lids, Seek for thy noble f4hcr in the dust. Thou kriow'st 'tis common; all that live must die, Passing through nature to eternity. * *. * * * Thus was I. sleeping, by a brother's hand, Of life, cf crown, or queen, at once dispatched; Cut off even in tile blossoms of my sin, No reckoning made, but sent to my account, With all my imperfections on my head. L2 (~L0UDS ANT) NSIffNE. * * * In the corrnpte(l currents of this worl(l, OffericO's gil(1Cd hand may ~li0v~ by jtt?~tI((~ But 'fis n~t so abovc~ 'IYicrc is mie shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature. * * * * We Aefy augury. Thero is a special providence in the fail of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not come; if it be not now, yet it will come; the readi- mess is all. 4 * 4 * Lay her i' the earth; And from her fair and unpolluted flesh, May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest) A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou best howling. * * * * Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince) And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! What rest'? Annihilation, say you? the extinc- tion of those glorious faculties? no, no; rest for a while, from the troubled world that he had left; from that polluted court, where incest, murder, treason, tainted the very air; whence wisdom had fled in dis- may, and where love had been driven to madness; a release from such harsh, dismal scenes as these. and a reunion with the loved and lost, in brighter worlds. Shakspeare a* materialist? The interpreter of lin- man life, the expounder of the heart, a materialist? Monstrous calumny! To cite his own epitaph, toot / I, I 4 page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 CLOTJDS AND STJNSH1NE. as a witness against him; that epitaph so full of pathos, informed as it is, with such an intense hu- manity. Good friend! for Je~us"sake forbear To dig the dust enclosed here. Blest be the man that spares these stones, And cursed be he that moves these bones. The poet is not here speaking in his o~vn behalf merely; no, he is pleading for the great family of man, pleading for the repose and sanctity of the grave, and invoking a world's denunciation upon its ruthless violators. But, my friend, to return to our philosopher; I deny utterly his statement that the world generally are disbelievers in immortality, and are merely playing upon each other, in their profes- ions of faith. I wonder how any reasonable man could ever make it. It seems to me a most outra- geous libel on n~ankind. The annals of every age and nation belie it; nay, the experience of every human heart, from Adam's down, if honestly set forth, I believe, would demonstrate its falsity. Yes, the most perverse of reasoners, the veriest hair- splitter that ever abused his understanding~ cannot run away from the great cardinal truths of God, and immortality, and accountability; truths coeval with man; truths never expounded, indeed, in their sub- lime purity and simplicity till Christ came on earth; still, recognized alike in the rudest rites CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 89 of the rudest savages, and in the brilliant and fascinating polytheism of Greece; defaced, more or less, in both, by unworthy conceptions and by cruel and obscene ceremonies; still, shining conspicuous through th~in all, the essential, vital parts of every creed under heaven; truths, without which, the world would seem the most pitiful of snarls, the earth itself the merest mass of rubbish; without which, there would have been nothing for history to record, or art to commemorate; nay, all the transitions of life, all its loves and feuds and excitements would have been of no more interest or consequence than the amours of so many cats, or the squabbles of so many curs. But I have not patience to discuss a point, that seems to me so clear as this. There was still, my dear friend, as you will remember, a part of my question, which you did not undertake to answer. I mean that which referred to the unpunished crimi- nals of earth, and their poor, tortured, slaughtered, violated victims. How were they to be disposed~ of? This most painful and puzzling part of the problem of life, how was it to be solved? You were silent, but your philosophical friend undertook to put the matter at rest, in a most off-hand and comprehensive way, to be sure. He said, that all these evils were to he laid at man~s door, not God's; they were sim- ply the result of our abuse of our freedom; God had given us the capacities and the materials for happi- ness; had given us the light of nature and of reason; I 4 '- Ii I I I I *1 I I 12 dl page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE~ CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 91 we had hut to follow them, and farewell, at once, to the crimes, diseases, sorrows of the race; every man would be happy; every man would have length of days and abundance of comforts, in fact, all that his Maker ever intended to give him; arid therefore, so far from having a right or a disposition to grumble, if' no other world were vouchsafed him, he would still be a contented, thankful debtor for the blessing of this. Plausible statement, truly ! Why, look aI~ it a moment. According to this reasoner, God has had nothing to do with the world, since creation morning. After making man and earth, and the laws that were to govern them, he 'has turned us adrift, to look out for ourselves. Every thing that has happened on the planet since, is of man's doing. Let him be duly credited then, with all the blessings, and debited with all the evils of life. GodTs not accountable for any of these things. His care and bounty were exhaust.. ed on the work of creation. As to any subsequent interference or supervision, save through these same unbending laws of nature, there is no such thing.- Ask not then, poor sinner or sufferer that' thou art, for any light or help or re&ompense from above, for this must be the reply to thy petition: 'I have nothing to do with the matter. I refer thee back to thy brethren. In their hands alone is thy destiny. I made man. I gave him the hints and the mate- rials for happiness, and I left liini to himself. If he hath not availed himself of them, tax not me with the consequences. I have not interfered. I will not in- terfere. Man must work out the problem for him- self. Call not on me, then, in thy distresses. Ask me not, to hurl my lightning against the transgres- sor, or to stay the assassin~ s hand, or to stop the breath of the pestilence, or to arrest the subtler poi- son of the slanderer. These things are not of my doing. As human guilt and folly caused, so must human wisdom and goodness relieve or compensate for them. Back then, to thy brethren, and impor- tune me not with thy vain appeals? Horrible as this sounds, yet what other answer to his prayer, could the poor sinner have, according to this theory? Away, away with it! Who that hath any heart or soul about him, can tolerate it for a moment? A doctrine utterly at war, not only with all the state- ) ments of scripture, but with all the analogies of na- ture. What, the Being who created this beautifpi earth of ours, who hath arrayed it in such robes of splendor, who hath stocked it with such boundless varieties of life, who hath contrived all this exquisite machinery for making it comfortable and agreeable to his children, who hath expended such a world of care and love upon us all, from imperial man, down to the vagrant sparrow; He turn his back upon this blessed work of his, from the very moment of its con- summation, and never since vouchsafe a single kind look, never condescend to interfere, with a solitary act, Or even suggestion, for its welfare! It seems to *1 j 4 -p 90 91 page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] I - 92 CLOUDS AND SUNSINE. me that the bare statement of such a proposition as this, sufficiently demonstrates its absurdity. Far, far better believe the opposite doctrine, that there is no event in life, however insignificant or repulsive we may deem it, that is' not controlled by God. Yes, with all its liability to misinterpretation and abuse ; with all the excuses that it may seem 'to furnish to the criminal, with all the scope that it may give to the shallow and presumptuous reader of God's book of providence, how much better is it than this other notion, which thus isolates us from our Maker, thus damps the spirit of prayer, stops the mouth alike of thanksgiving and of penitence, banishes from earth alike its guardian and avenging angels, and consigns it to a sullen, wretched independence. I confess, my friend, he longer I live, the more and more convinced I 'am of the perpetual supervision of the Almighty, of his perpetual interference with human freedom. How far this interference was decreed from the be- ginning ; .how far the Creator may ee fit to modify his plans from time to time ; how fthe mysteries of foreknowledge and free-will may be reconciled to each other ; these, and such like knotty themes, are not for us poor laymen. We must humbly leave them to the 'grave and reverend doctors of the church. And even of these, how few seem willing or compe- tent to discuss them aright, to bring tQ them the pro- per discipline of mind or body: a chosen few, indeed, there have been, scattered over the pages of history, CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 93 I I / I I~IF ~ u~'~ Irv j~i 'ii 41 1 pure and holy men, who, in the quiet o their lonely cells, far from the smoke and stir of theTorld, have dedicated clear heads and pious hearts to these deep problems ; but they are not for us, the turbulent, the giddy, the care-worn dwellers in cities. Far then be it from me to offer any worthless speculations of .mine concerning them. Thank heaven, the peace of our souls is not involved in these mysteries. For all the practical purposes of life, we have our freedom. It is this very ignorance of ours that makes us free and responsible ; that gives significance to the lau- rels that we may win, or the stripes that we may incur. Still, that there is this constant divine inter- ference ; that there are messengers forever on the wing between earth and heaven ; that humiliation and sickness and death are continually sent as spe- cial lessons to our pride and ingratitudle; that God's grace does mysteriously descend, to soften the stony heart of the sinner, and his anger, to overtake and destroy the oppressor ; that there are often, special interpositions between the murderer and his victim; that we are often warned in dreams, of impending perils or disasters ; all these things do I firmly and fervently believe. Why should I not ? Is not the good book full of them ? Wherein do they contradict .reason ? Nay, will our hearts be satisfied with any thing less ? Why pray at all, then ? Yes, I do be- lieve in these special interventions ; not merely im those that have been revealed to sense, and duly re- 'I page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] 94 CLOUDS AND SUNShINE I ji~f 7, I CLOUDS. AND SUNSHtINE. 95 corded in God's holy word, but in those innumerable ones that are continually occurring about us, lgt, for wise ends, hidden from our sight. I believe, not only that God talked with Adam and with Noah, that angels conversed with Abraham, and ministered unto Hlaga r in the wilderness, that the ravens were sent with food to the prophet, in a word, all those touching, those beautiful stories of holy writ, but. that unseen spirits guided the bark of the great discov-. erer, and saw the Mayflower safe to her haven, and kept off the venom of the pestilence from the self, devoting philanthropist, and turned aside the death-. *shafts from our own patriot-hero ; that they are con- stantly -doing "God's bidding on earth, constantly modifying or controlling human conduct; and that, while many of these interpositions sufficiently explain and vindicate themselves, in this life, all will be made clear hereafter. Call me credulous and visionary, if you will. I repeat it, I would far rather believe all these things, than that opposite doctrine, which would deprive us of the light of God's countenance, which would leave man to his-own wilfulness and ignorance, which would substitute for our Father in heaven, a system of inflexible laws, beneficent in the main, of' course, but still ne'er tempered with equity, that no prayer can ever bend, no plea avert. All ou best affections and aspirations seem to me to favor such belief; and to justify the expectations that all these mysteries of the divine government, however ' 7 r (lark and painful many of them may seem here, will be exp)ounded, andI~ their wisdomn and justice madle .clear to us, in the work to come. I cannot then, accept your philosopher's interpretation of this mat- ter. So far from this world's explaining itself; as he would have it, it seems- to me that it is only when we have left it, that we shall begin rightly to comnpre- hend it ; just as its physical features and beautiful movements through the heavens, could only be fairly perceived and appreciated, when surveyed from be- yond it. And as I cannot but cherish. the hope of being, in God's good season, endowed with an organi- zation, that will enable me to behold and enjoy a panorama so magnificent, -so do I humbly look for- ward to* an intellectual capacity, with which to pene trate the meaning and the moral of the great drama of human existence. But, my dear friend. I must not abuse my privileg , 'and tax too much your patience. B. Not at all, not .at all. I am listening with interest, I assure you, though I confess I am by no means convinced of the soundness of your reason - ing, upon this last point. But go on, go on. Your earnestness is certainly entitled to my respect, if your arguments may not convince my understand- ing. A. Well then, allow me a few words upon the last part of my question. I asked you, my dear friend, if you saw nothing in your own nature, where- page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] on to build a faith in immortality ; no aspirations, no capacities, that all the acquisitions, all the expe- rience of this life failed to meet or satisfy. No, said you, no ; nothing that will bear inspection ; nothing that does not resolve itself into a mere traveler's fancy, or schoolboy's whim, or the merest exaggera- tions of self love ; no honest thirst after knowledge, no real desire to do good ; nothing, in short, either in the way of power or of disposition to make my- self useful hereafter, that God would condescend to recognize as a claim to a future life., And in speak- ing thus for yourself, you insisted that you were speaking for ninety-nine, hundredths of the human family, in all ages ;. that they uniformly avoided the thought of an hereafter, when they could ; and that when their minds were forced'in that direction, their conceptions were of the most gross and unworthy character. You proceeded to illustrate your remark by some most biting and unreasonably severe (as I thought) criticisms upon your neighbors ; and you concluded by asking, will God humor the whims of ~creatures like these ; will lie perpetuate such a set of sensualists and .self-seekei-s ? No, no, no. We neither desire nor deserve immortality. What a re- ply ! -You 'could not have beenr in earnest, mny friend, in making it ; in thus belying your own bet- ter self, your friends, your brethren; in thus deny- ing all noble qualities to human nature. What, no- thing worth preserving, no solitary germ .of excel- 96 ~CLOUDS AND SUNSHlINE. LUSADSNHN.9 A 1* lence, no one element of growth or promise, that God might turn to account, might put to glorious uses hereafter ? B. I admitted, however, that there were a few brilliant exceptions, you remember, who- A. True, but the great, the overwhelming ma- jority of us were neither fit for, nor had any right to expect anything beyond the grave.- B. I certainly said so, and I can't help thinking so. A. And I say, that such a doctrine is to me in- expressibly painful and repulsive. Nay more,- I consider it an atrocious libel on humanity. I take directly opposite ground. I say there is no human being so sunk in vice and ignorance, but there is something precious and sacred about him, which, however we may overlook or deride it, God fails not' to recognize, will not fail, in His own good season, to ripen and develop, unto glorious issues. There is nothing about us, thus absolutely worthless. It is our own want of perception that makes us thus decry ,and condemn human nature. -Just as the child sees nothing in the collection of the mineralogist, but a mere congregation of worthless and misshapen stones, so we thoughtless, ill-judging children of men, pass through the world, throwing about our presumptuous criticisms on each other, our wholesale censures of God's works. I don't believe in them. I never yet saw the man or woman, so stupid or degraded, but page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. could teach me sometl~ng, could beat me at som& - thing. I doubt whether there is a creature alive, that hath not some latent gift about him, some tab ent or other, that only needs auspicious influences, and kindly culture, to be a positive blessing to soci- ety. Out it will come at last, too, depend upon it, at some time or other, in some part or other of God'g dominions. How unreasonable to suppose it other- wise I What, when IF see so many marvellous re- sults produced by human skill, in, the development of the animals, and fruits, ~and Ilowers of earth, am I to be told that the soul of man has nothing impro- vable in it; and that, if defrauded of its due culture here, it may not, when transplanted to some more genial sphere, there flourish and bear golden fruit? Are we so intrinsically worthless, then, and on the ground of that worthlessness to be consigned to ignominious extinction; to perish forever, and be of no ~iore validity than the meanest worm or vine that may creep over our graves? Is a man to be put out of the way, then, just as you would pull down an old house, in soi~e crowded thoroughfare, forgotten ere the very foundations are laid of its successor, and there an end forever? Oh no, ho. I have no pa- tience, my friend, with a doctrine so degrading as this; a doo1trine which shocks alike my imagination, and reason, and affections. The idea that all the sweet babes, and gentle maidens, and dear old men, all the heroes, and martyrs, and sages, that have been consigned to their graves with solemn rites and tributary tears, have passed into mere corruption * and nothingness; that this earth, instead of being the honored depository of such precious relics, as a sa- cred trust to be surrendered on God's great day of audience and of judgment, is nothing more than a mere heap of rubbish, a mere aggregation of matter, a mere succession of ever shifting forms; that in- stead of being a theatre where a grand drama is cease- lessly enacted for our instruction, it is a mere idle, g~udy, meaningless spectacle ; who can be recon- ciled to~such a thought as this? If so, indeed, fare- well all the beauty. and venerableness of the planet; farewell all the charm of its lan~lscapes, all loveli- ness in tree or flower, all glory in the skies above it; farewell the majesty of sea and mountain, the sacrQdness of its battle-fields, nay, of all its associa- tions what a mockery are all its shrines and mon- uments; what a very harlequinade are all the toils, and trials, and achievements of men! Yes, the man who has really brought his mind to acquiesce in such a doctrine as this, who has deliberately turned his back upon all the glories an~ responsibilities of an hereafter, has wilfully made himself brother to the perishing brute, what satisfaction, what pleasure is there left to him? What can be do, but sit and grin, in scorn, at the pitiful mummories around him? What else can they be to the holder of a creed like this? 4 Li I 1 I It 99 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 CLOUDS AND SUNShINE4 For, from that instant, There's nothing serious in mortality. All is bitt toys: renown and grace is dead; The wine of life is drawp, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of. I must not quote Scripture, my friend, on this point, for you, alas, repudiate its authority; but how con- trary to reason your doctrine seems ! how deroga- tory to the Almighty! All the rest of God's works, the more their properties are revealed to us, the more and more do thpy show forth His wisdom and bounty. To the eye of science, there is nothing in- significan.t or valueless in nature; the meanest peb- ble at our feet tells us of the matchless contrivance of the great Architect, of the exquisite adaptation of means to ends, in every department of his works. But if there be no future life, what a pitiful~ excep- tion to the rule is man; what a' standing satire on that same wisdoxu and goodness ! In this regard, how worse than contemptible seem all the thought and labor expended upon his creation anteducationi If there is no other world, wherein to profit by the lessons learnt in this, then is the heavenly parent far less wise than any earthly one. What earthly parent would go to the expense of a multitude of teachers, and complicated course of studies, and costly apparatus, for a poor sickly child, that he knew must soon be taken from him, without ever having the slightest opportunity of turning the / K F F .1 F' CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 101 knowledge thus sct before him to any practical ac- count? Such an illustration seems to mc neither irreverent nor unjust. What is this world but a magnificent and thoroughly appointed institution for the development of human souls? Take away the life to come, and all this training, all these elaborate and munificent arrangements, what a perfect mock- cry are they! Who can endure a doctrine that leads to such absurd results, that thus isolates this earth from the rest of creation, instead of making it a link in a glorious chain, a primary school in a grand scheme of education? I believe it to be such, and If believe that we shall all, as, under God's good guidance, we go on advancing to higher and higher steps of this spiritual' development, come to look back on it with the same affectionate veneration, with which the man looks back in after years, upon the old school-house where he learnt his first lessons. You may call all this very fanciful and visionary. Be it so. Any thing rather than this horrible skep- ticisin of yours. Yps, I do cherish all sorts of glo- rious expectations, in the 'life to come. I do believe that all the mighty intellects of earth will go on, in other worlds, continually gaining in vigor and re- sources, and advancing from loftier to loftier careers of usefulness. I believe that the great jurists of earth, the Marshalls, the Storys, the Rents, will meet hereafter their learned brethren of other lands and ages, ay, and planets ; will confer together; will ~F. 1 I page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE develop together new and loftier systems of juris- prudence. Why should not a Marshall meet his elder brother Coke, in some other sphere, and talk over with him, not merely the rule in Shelley's case, and other pleasant old subtleties of the law of iRcal Property on earth, but newer and grander systems; or discuss higher and more comprehensivee doctrines of commercial law, with his brother Mansfield, thaLn they ever dreamt of in their earthly tribunals ?- Consider such a suggestion flighty and absurd, if you will; and yet what is there more strange in it, than that two such intellects are permitted to confer to gather, here below,~either in person or through their writings? Till you can get over, or explain away, the miraculous realities of this life, call me not ro- mantic, for indi~lging in such anticipations, as to the next. I believe too, that a Shakspeare will study hearts, and portray characters, and build the lofty rhyme, for the delight of other worlds; that a Milton will be inspired by grander scenes and contempla-. tionsto the production of still grander poems; that a Newton will go on, enlarging and expanding his researches, from more central and commanding points of the universe; that a Raphael is destined to em-' body far loftier thoughts and lovelier visions, in brighter worlds. Tell me not that a Michael Angelo is to rear no more stately dom~s, or more gorgeous palaces than those lie left behind him; or that a Beethoven is to compose no more glorious music, to CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 103 hear no sweeter hymns than those of earth. Tell me not that that mighty intellect, that was recently borne away from us, the sage, the statesman, the patriot, he who was so gi'and in the forum, so majes- tic in the senate, so sublime on the hallowed spots of' his country's history; tell me not that that august soul is to slumber in oblivion forever; that it is never more to impart or receive wisdom in other spheres; never to confer with its great brother-spi4ts of Greece and Rome and England, or with those who have swayed the destinies of other planets. Tell me not, either, that these, and all the great spirits, who have here labored unto mighty issues, are not permitted to return at times, and behold the blessed fruit of their toils; that a Washingtou may not look down upon the magnificent republic that he founded, or a Columbus see the results of his discoveries, or a Fulton behold the ceaseless, world-wide miracles wrought by his inventions4 Say not that this notion is unscriptural, either; that it interferes with God's moral government. Not so. Let the claims of divine justice be met. Let every human soul, however regally or humbly endowed, pay to the full the penalty that its errors and its sins have earned. We ask no exemption from mer- ited punishments. No, no. Givo us a future life. Give us the sufferings that are fairly ours, e'en to the last drop of bitterness, the last groan of anguish and remorse; but oh, defraud us not of the duties, page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 105 104 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. the privileges, the glories that are beyond them. I need not stop, my friend, to dwell upon the blight- ing influence of this doctrine of yours upon the af- f'ections; to say how it renders all the moral disci~ pline of life as unmeaning and worthless as it does the intellectual; how it degrades our love of friends and kindred into a mere animal attachment; how it robs the mementoes of that love of all lustre and significance; what a perfect mockery it makes of all the tears, and vows, and prayers we offer at their graves. What, tell me that the Thother who bore me, the wife of my bosom, the children of my hopes, have all crumbled away into nothingness; have be- come less significant, in God's eyes, than the clods of the valley that cover them; do you really, my friend, wish to persuade me of any such doctrine as this? Tell the mother, that the son who has just been taken from her, in the pride of his manhood her prop, her comforter, flie delight of her eyes, is to be hidden from her sight forever; that there is to be no heavenly recognition, no interchange of ~ym- pathies or endearments hereafter; or that that other poor son of hers, who has neglected alike her and her counsels, who has disgraced his name, and has just terminated a loathsome life by an ignominious death ; tell her ihat that wretched soul is to have no opportunity of redeeming itself of yet blotting out the memory of its crimes on earth, in some worthy career hereafter; tell the friend who has just heard I of the death of one with whom he parted in anger, that there are no such things as blessed explana- tions, and peace-makings, and the renewals of earth- ly vows, in brighter worlds; that it is all a mere de- lusion, an idle dream of fancy.-Oh, what heart can listen to such suggestions as these 3 There is, there is a life beyond the grave; there is a glorious desti- ny yet in store, even for the vilest sinners. Yes, it is pleasant to think that the veriest monsters of earth, whose names degrade and deface the pages of history, and must ever be associated here with all that is infamous and detestable, have already, per- haps, become burning and shining lights elsewhere in God's universe; that our Neros and Borgias are even now, perhaps, playing the blessed parts of Fen- dons and Howards, in other worlds. You will of course call me credulous and fanciful; and yet, why seek to rob me of a thought that has in it so much of comfort and encouragement, so much of stimulus to honest effort? But enough of this. You went on to say, that the phenomena of advancing years, as you watched them, in your own heart, and in those of your brethren, only served the more to con- firm your skepticism and indifference about the fu- ture. You would have it, that every added hour of life took away something from the ingenuousness of youth, and from the loftiness of its aims; that we all became more sordid and narrow-minded, with every step we took towards the grave.; the standard page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE9 CLOUDS AND SUNShINE. 107 : x of excellence ever sinking, the horizon of' our thoughts ever contracting, eve~ to the imbecility and helplessness of age. And what saw you in age? At best, you said, a sort of stupid acquiescence in the decrees of destiny ; and ordinarily, a mere bun- dle of peevish, fretful humors, and small jealousies, and perpetual disparagements of the present, and whining over the past, but no bright looking for- ward into the future ; nothing cheerful, hopeful, he- roic about it ; nothing, in short, but growing klecay of mind and body, till overtaken at last by the same extinction and oblivion that await the trees of its own planting. Oh, what an unjust, what a perverse picture ! In the name of all the dear parents and children of this broad land, do I protest against it. You to talk thus, who know at least a scoi'e of fam- ilies. within a stune's throw of' us, each one of which is presided over by a venerable g~'aiidsire, whose pleasant, wrinkled face and silver hairs are the great crowning charm and ornament thereof; tell me, that because time hath robbed them of somewhat of their suppleness, because their senses will not do their bidding quite as promptly as they did, because they cannot pick up the passing incidents and sentiments around them as readily as they once could, that therefore these dear old men are fast going to decay and annihilation: that all the virtues they have been forming, all the treasure~ of wisdom and know- ledge they have been having for years, are to be thus ~,T~LI summarily disposed of; to be thus swept away in ob- livion; (10 you ask me to believe any such blighting, monstrous doctrine as this, and that, too, merely on the evidence of my own frail, fallible senses? If so, ifl(lCCd, then is life ~he most contemptible of farces, and the vilest old hat that was evel" kicked about in a gutter, or tossed by dogs, is the fittest emblem of our dcclini~ig years! That there are painful and puzzling phenomena accompanying old age, what heart feels not? What heart would not gladly solve them if it could? But how much wiser and more filial in us, patiently to wait for God's solution of them, and of all the other lilysteries of life, than to preach the doctrine you do! 1 would not speak ar- rogafitly, my friend, or presumptuously. What light can I shed QU themes like these? I am no man of science, or metaphysician, and but a feeble reasoner, at best. I speak merely as a man of common sense and common fe4ing; as I believe ninety-nine hun- dredths of my brethren and sisters would speak, when I say, that our reason and affections alike pro- test against the monstrous, crushing results involved in the thought of annihilation; that all the texts and parables of Scripture, all the fables of the hea- then world, all the allegories of art, all the analogies of nature are, when interpreted aright, on the side of immortality. But Ii must not tax your patience further. You took me up rather abruptly, my dear friend, you may remember, in our last conversation, 106 4 4 4 page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 CLOuDS AND SUNSIIINFX CLOUDS ANT) SIJNSIHNF. for the expression, the downhill qf makin~ use of 1~fe ; you seemed to think such lanma~e utterly b b inconsistent with the doctrines I was advocating. Let me, in reply, quote a passage from the great; poet of our age, whiclv I think most appropriate to this very point ; in which he seems disposedd to coin- bat the popular notions and phraseology on this sub- ject, and to illustrate the phenomena of age by those of the mountain-top, and not of the valley. It seems somewhat subtle and elaborate, at first, but a second reading (as ever in his works), makes it lumi- nous with wisdom and beauty. Allow me to repeat it; and so take leave of the subject: "Rightly is it said That Man descends into the V~z1e of years; Yet have I thought that we might also speak, And not presumptuously, I trust, of Age, As of a final Emiacncc; though bare In aspect and forbidding, yet a point On which 'tis not impossible to sit In awful sovereignty; a place of power, A throne, that may be likened finto his, Who, in some placid day of Summer, looks Down from a mo~untain-top,-say one of those 2High peaks, that bound the vale where now we are. Faint, and diminished to the gazing eye, Forest and field, and hill and dale appear, With all the shapes upon their surface spread: But, while the gmoss and visible frame of things Relinquishes its hold upon the sense, Yea, almost on the Mind herself, and seems - I 11~I~1IlI eq 109 I All un~uhstantialized,-liow loud the voice Of waters, with invigorated peal From the full river in the vale below, Ascending ! For, on that superior height Who sits, is (lisencurnbered from the press Of near obstructions, and is privileged To breathe in 5&litU(le, above the host Of ever-humming insects, 'mid thin air That suits not them. The murmur of the leaves Many and i(lle, visits not his ear: This he is freed from, an(l from thousand notes (Not less Unceasing, not less vain than these,) By which the finer passages of sense Are occupied, and the soul, that would incline To listen, is prevented, or deterred. And may it not be hoped, that, placed ~by ago In like removal, tranquil though severe, We are no~so removed, for utter loss, But for some favor, suited to our need 3 What more than that the severing should confer Fresh power to commune with the invisible world, And hear the mighty stream of tendency Uttering, for elevation of our thought, A clear sonorous voice, inaudible To the vast multitude, whose doom it is, To run the giddy round of vain delight, Or fret and labor on the plain below." page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] ii CONVERSATION IV. A. THERE are seine other points, dear B., on which I confess II should like to have a little more free and full interchange of opinions with you; not, you will believe me, from any mere idle wish to.hear the sound of my own voice; still less, I trust, from any presumptuous expectation of being able to over- throw your doctrines; but, as I said before, because I really think such discussions, if conducted iii a courteous and truth-seeking spirit, may be made mutually profitable. So, if brother C., here, has no objections, we will renew our colloquy. 'Perhaps he may be willing to act as umpire between us. C. Oh, no, no; far from me be any such pre- sumption as that. I will be a cheerful listener, how- ever, and may perhaps venture on a stray remark or two, myself. But what was the particular point, you proposed to discuss, this evening? A. W~i1, let me briefly explain myself. Our CLi0UDS AND SUNSHINE. 111 friend B. here, in the course of previous conversa- tions, and indCC(l whenever we have met, almost, has taken the ground, and will ~.insist upon it, that this world of ours has always been a poor, miserable, de- plorable place; in its best estate, scarce fit to live in; that it is no better now, than ever it was; and, moreover, that it is never going to be any better; that the men of to-day. are pretty much the same ignorant, stupid, wicked set, as were their antedilu- viari brethren, &c. &~. Such is the constant burden. of his song. Now I should like to have him a little more explicit, and give us some of the reasons for his arriving at conclusions so very uncomfortable, and, as I think, so exceedingly unjust. U Coine then, brother B., unfold your views. B. Well, I. told A. before, that I had no faith in such discussions. Even where the parties are com- petent, and their tempers good, there ~is still so much uncertainty hanging over these subjects, there are so few substantial, well-authenticated facts to argue from, that they hardly repay the arguers, for the time and breath invested in them. And then, when I think how meagerly I am furnished forth for any su~h speculations; when I call to mind, what an in- competent historian, feeble geographer, miserable chronologist, wretched linguist, and most inefficient reasoner I am, with no very great surplus either, I fear, in the way of amiability, I am all the more dis- posed to hold my peace. III. 1 page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] 112 CLOUDs AND SUNSHINE. t I CLOUDS- AND SUNSHINE. 113 0. Come, come; we can't all expect to be Mil- tons or Coleridges, of course; but what of that ? I believe, that honest, hearty expressions of opinion, on these and such like subjects, from almost any quarter, are not without their interest. So, speak out. Do I understand you then, to say, that the world has made no progress worth speaking of, in the way of knowledge, goodness, health, liberty, gen- eral development, since the great submersion ? How is it? B. I certainly am inclined very much to that opinion. I believe that the points of resemblance between ourselves and the men of antiquity, are to those, of difference, as ten thousand to one; and as you insist upon going into particulars, let us look at the items, a little. First then, in the matter of know- ledge. I believe that the ignorance of the masses, and the learning of the few, are now, substantially, what they were in the slays of Belus ; that the great herd, in all ages, have leen condemned to a little better than -animal existence, by their incapacity, and the necessities of their position ; and that thae few who have had brains, time and diligence to devote to study, have been learning pretty much the same lessons, in every century; that science and art are pretty much the same, now as ever ; that many of our fancied discoveries are mere revivals ; that while thinking that we are laying out new roads in -the realms of knowledge. we are merely removing the 2 rubbish, under which Time had buried the 01(1 ones ; and that the actual gains we may occasionally make in both, are counterbalanced by corresponding losses. I believe that if the savans of to-day, are ahead of those of-old, in natural science and its multiform ap- plication to the useful arts, they are as far behind them in metaphysics and the fine arts ; that if Aristotle and his brother philosophers, or the sages of the East, could be revived to-day, and confronted, they and their works, with the intellectual lumina- ries of our own time, the Edwardses and Kants and Cousins and Coleridges, that the latter would have all they could .do .to hold their own, in any discus- sions with these elder brothers ; that they would find a strength and agility and acuteness of under- standing, and a profundity of research, quite equal to their own, with far more facility and vigor of expres- sion ; that, in a word, they would learn quite as much as they would impart in any such conferences. ,Is it not more emphatically true, in literature and the fine arts ? Does not the whole world swear, to-day, by Homer and by Pindar ? Who but Milton is to be named with the one, and where is the other's peer ? The tragedy of Greece, what is there like it, out of Shakspeare ? Surely not in France or Spain, or even in Germany. The comedy of Greece, little as we have of it, and dimly as we-perceive its qualities, is there any thing in MIoliore, or Congreve, or Sheri- dan, like it ? Is there any thing short of the blessed page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] 114 CLOUDS AND SUNSHiNE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 115 Twelfth Night, or the delicious As You Like It, that could bear away the palm from it? And. even Shakspeare might tremble, perhaps, for his supre- macy, were he confronted with those hundred spark- ling plays of Menander, that all the wits and scholars of antiquity went crazy about. And what must those audiences have been, who insisted nightly on a new one, considering it a rare compliment to allow a second hearing, even to the Frogs? What must * their calibre have been, and culture, and readiness at repartee*? And the sculptors and architects of old, are not their works, to-day, the delight and despair of their modern brethren? And even the music of old, on which w~ think we have-made such wonderful improvements ; were we not told the other evening, by a learned lecturer, that on the banks of the Gan- ges, a thousand years before Christ, the young men and maidens were chanting the very melodies, that now take captive the ears of our beaux and belles at the opera? Our orchestras may be stronger and more varied, our harmonies more full and expressive, but the airs themselves, like the passions they inter- pret, the very same ; fashioned according to the same rules, just as they appealed, with the same re- sistless power, to the same throbbing hearts. In all that appertains unto the passionate, the beautiful, the picturesque, have we gained any thing, to say the least, upon our brethren of antiquity? I think not. I think the world is gro#ng more homely every hour. Every art and craft of life, good or bad, seems to me to be losing some of its poetry, continually.- Take the art of war. A fight was worth looking at, iii old times; worth transferring to canvass. An Achilles preparing for a m~l~e before Troy, as painted by homer, or an Alexander arraying himself for his bloody, but brilliant day's work at Arbela, as he is described by Plutarch, was truly a magnificent feb low; and an army of such fighters, when once fairly engaged, heart to heart, and hand to hand, with their gay and glittering antagonists, call it what else you will, ~~as surely a most superb and fascinating spec- tacle. how different from the mechanical, angular, sombre, sm6ky, unmusical transaction, called a bat- tle, in our times, which defies even the skill of a Vernet, to make it attractive! There was some pomp on the sea, too, formerly. The galleys of Greece and Carthage, with their shapely prows and sterns, and purple sails, and oars that moved to the sound of flutes, whether going in procession, on some pious pilgrimage to a neighboring island, or when involved in "all the heady currents of the fight," were certainly objects that an artist might look at with satisfaction, might take pleasure in perpetuat- ing in fresco or mosaic; but what is there poetical in our ships of war, or in, the representations of modern naval fights? Who ever dreams of explor- ing their beauties, as they adorn the galleries of provincial museums, except an occasional small boy, 1- I 'I If I 115 114 page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] 116 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. or grog-inspired old salt? The splendid turn-outs of Venice, too, her gay gondolas, her sumptuous Bucentaur, where are they now? Sleeping the sleep of death, with the poor fallen city they adorned. The stately ships that loom ~up so, in the pictures of Claude and Yander Velde, with their lofty, gild- ed sterns, and quaint mottoes, and dainty carvings, and images of saints, how are they banished from the deep! A group~ of such tall argosies, dressed out in their gay robes, and lit up by the setting sun, might indeed, have kindled the imagination of poet or of painter. But their day is over, and a far dif- ferent generation has succeeded them; a generation of saucy, sharp-set, officious clippers; far more nim- ble and serviceable, certainly; that would go round the globe four times to th~ii' predecessors' once; but no more to be compared with them on the score of beauty, than a locomotive is to the car of Phoebus; and it looks as if even these last would soon be driven from the ocean, yes, everything that sails with wings, and as if every sea, and bay, and river of earth were to be monopolized by little, black, noisy, ugly steam-tugs, and huge; unsightly propel- lers. And the costume of men, as well as ships, is it not taking the same direction; got up exclusively for purposes of utility and rapid motion, and in defi- ance of all the laws of beauty? Take even the dandies and bloods, the Pelhams and Waterfords of our times, and are they to be named in the same CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 117 breath with those of antiquity? Do they sail such yachts, or drive such teams? An Alcibiades dash- ing along the Ceramicus, in his superb chariot, with his Thessalian steeds, was he not far ahead of any thing the Champs Elys6es or Hyde Park ever wit- nessed, in the way of costume and appointments? The epicures of old, were they not far more learned than their modern brethen? Is there any Fish- Sauce extant, which is to be compared with that which Ileliogabalus used to put upon his turbot? Could Soyer himself have devilled a crab with Apicius? Is there a cook on earth this hour, either snoring in his night-cap, or issuing his edicts in the kitchen, that could begin to get up a supper with the chef of Lucullus'? Is there any such wiiie in any chateau of Metternich, or cellar of Dijon, Ii will not say as Priam or Xerxes used to go to bed on, but as was stored away in the vaults o~ Tiberius or in the Aurca Domus of Nero? Beckford himself; with all his wealth, and wit, and taste, was he any thing more, after all, than a third rate Sa~llust or Ma~cenas? Are there any entertainments coming off, this day, in any quarter of the globe, at all com- parable, either in the intellectual or physical depart- departments, to the Olympic Games? I don't believe it; no such poetry, no such jumping. Where are the individuals in this century, who clear fifty- five feet at a leap, and ring~ quoit at hundredd and fifty? Even Gabriel Ravel, Efear, would have cut -u 4 f page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] 118 CLOUDS AND SU~NSfllNE. I ~ CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 119 rather a small figure at Corinth, and the double som- erset of Hiram Franklin have been coldly received. Ought we not to remember these things in the midst of our self-laudations? Because we can analyze substances more minutely, and have found out a few more secrets in electricity, and can calculate dis- tances and eclipses with more certainty, anti can plough the waters and rattle over the earth faster than our antique brethren could, and manufacture more paper money, anchcirculate more cheap pen- odicals, we should not forget that they could raise heavier ~weights, rear loftier piles, make better stat- ues, and if they could not illuminate their buildings with the same rapidity, knew far better how to ven- tilate them and to clear them of crowds. Think of the Colosseum, that would hold an audience of a hundred and twenty thousand, and yet~ could be emptied in ten minutes, while we enlightened Go- '~ thamites nightly put our persons in peril, at (what we call) ijionster concerts,' and lectures at Metropo- litan ll~dl. Besides, as I said before, how many of our fancied novelties are mere revivals: we ~ow know, that the youngsters of Greece used to rub their little noses and fingers against window-panes, and that the fine women of Rome used to take their opera glasses to the theatres; that balloon excur- sions were common things in the days of Sanconi- ath, and spiritual rapping no novelty in the time of Zoroaster. They, no doubt, had their Mesmerism too, and their Socialism, and their miracle-working pills and ointments, their quack remedies of all sorts, for all the physical, moral, and social ills of life. And why should not these same Greeks and IRornans have had their contrivances for multiplying manuscripts, and their water, or even steam-propelled machinery, for grinding their corn, and for making their purple and fine linen, and for facilitating the operations of their mints' and foundries? I can't believe that the men who could put a Parthenon in marble, who could manufacture such superb plate and jewelry, who could furnish so daintily a palace of the C~sars, were so ignorant of these auxiliary forces in nature, and of the art of using them, as we suppose. It seems more reasonable to believe, that most of these inventions of ours, as we call them, are mere reappearance of what the world has seen already; that they had their day, and gradually fell into desuetude and decay, from ~he diversion of hu- man thoughts and wits into other channels; that the same causes will kill them again, and again re- vive them, and that they will continue to play this game of hide-and-seek, for aught we know, through all eternity. The more I think of these things, the more disposed am I to believe that the capacities anti acquisitions of men have been substantially the same from the beginning; that there is the same ignorance of the learned, afid learning of the igno- rant, now as ever. I believe that the doctors who '1 lix 119 page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] C[,OUJ)5 AM) SUNSHINE. 121 1'20 CLO~ii)S AND St1N~Wi1NI~ prescribed for Darius, knew just about as much, and about as little, concerning the real causes of dis- eases anQ the operations of remedies, and the plie- nomena of sickness a~nd death, and the true relation- ship between. soul and body, as the medical advisers of her Britannic Majesty do ; and that then as now, the wisest and best in the profession, ~xonld have been the very first to avow their ignorance. In a word, I believe what Solomon preached, and Shaks- peare sang, and our own hearts re-echo, and Pompeii has proved, and Nineveh is hourly proving; that there is no new thing under the sun. I shouldn't be surprised, at any moment, to hear of some Rip Van Winkle of a city, suddenly roused from its sleep of a thousand generations or so, in some silent, desolate corner of the Old World, perhaps on the banks of the Euphrates itself, with its buried locomotives, and steam-tugs, and gas-pipCS, and telegraphic wires, and all the appliances that we so coolly a1)propriate7 as the exclusive property, of our own century. May not *the Creator condescend, some fine morning, to show it to the world, through the medium of some silly, -wandering shepherd, for the very purpose of mortify- ing and humbling this most conceited and self-glori- fyin g generation? But enough on this head. You spoke of health, too. Is the world any healthier now than it used to be? Are there more hearty, ruddy specimens of humanity, mc~ving about the globe, this morning, than there were in the time of Nebuchad- nezzar? I have no idea of it, myself. I believe, moreover, that, could we have taken a walk through the streets of Athens in the days of ,~' ericles, or of Rome in those of Augustus, and imme~ijately after~ have had a peep at our own Broadway, as we see it to-day, we should have found a frightful balance against us, in the way of bright eyes, and good looks, and general muscular developments. There can be little doubt where the sculptor would have gone for his models; little doubt in which of the cities the largest share of round shoulders and spindle-shanks would have been found, or nine-tenths of the cough-. ing and sneezing and general complaining would rave been heard; or in which metropolis a sudden call for an outlay of physical force would have been least satisfactorily answered; or in ease of a colli- sion between the ancient and modern promenaders, where the victory would have been. Could we have had ime to get at our fire-arms, I grant you we mig~7t have carried the day; but, with nature's own weapons, can there be any doubt that we of the 19th would have been soundly thrashed? But seriously, I believe that the world is a sad loser in this regard .-that there is far less of high health and animal spirits on earth than ever before; less of God's fresh air tasted; less out-door work or. play; less familiarity with the beautiful sounds and sights of nature. There are far more prisoners than ever, toiling in mines, and galleys, and factories; more 121 120 page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] I CLOUDS 'AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUN$HINI~. people than ever, killing themselves in crowded cit~ ics, martyrs to fashion, and care, and business more poor wretches locked up in narrow, noisome lanes, who scarce ever see a star in heaven, who only know of a sunrise or sunset by hearsay; poor caged birds, who see no more of the blessed fields and woods of earth, than a stray flower-pot or box of turf can show them; pale, puny, meagre things, just fit to be swept away by the first disease that may be prowling round for victims, the first pesti- lence that may ride the tainted air. Is it not so? Am I wrong, when I say that there were never more miserable, unpromising babies brought into the world than now, more deaths in child-birth, more cruel, fatal disorders, more little contemptible aib ments of all sorts, more personS in every walk of life, who are defrauded, or who wilfully defraud them- selves of their fair share of years? IF thinl~ not. But I will not dwell any longer on this point. Let us look a moment at the item of Freedom, of which you next spoke. Is there any more of the real, 'genuine article in the world now than ever? There are great apparent gains, certainly, in some quar- ters;' in our own and the mother country, and other parts of Irthern Europe, and in some few scattered colonies; but are there not quite as many palpable losses in Spain, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Asia Minor, Syria, Palestine? Are they not worse off than ever in this and all other desirable things? What a 5l)ectaCle does the Holy Land present, this very hour! Look at Bethlehem itself; the spot of all others, one would~ suppose, that guardian angels would hover over, to keep the peace and protect the pious traveller; why, it is as much as a poor pil- grim's life is worth, to visit the shrine of his Mas- ter: in no part, even of Judea, are robberies and murders so plentiful. And so throughout all these regions; the only freedom to be found there is that of prowling Arabs; the freedom of ruffians and cut- throats ! Look all through the continents of Asia and Africa, and show me any thing like a Runny- mede or a Bunker's lull, in either; any spot amidst all those millions of acres, and myriads of souls, where a solitary battle has ever been fought for hu- man rights. Not one; tyranny and ignorance have pervaded them from the beginning.; the same savage wars and superstitions deface Africa, the same apa- thy and stupidity preside over all the trades and arts of Asia to-day, as did thousands of years ago. The freedom of the South American Republics, too; what a bitter mockery is it! The privilege of the strongest arm and sharpest sword, to mow down all opposition, and amuse and plunder its subjects, till in turn driven out by superior power. How much better is it, too, in Austria and Russia? France, too, after all her demonstrations ~and fine words, her fetes and fireworks, how quietly at last has she suc- cumbed to a miserable usurper; about whom there [4 _________________ 122 123 L '4' '4 4 4 page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. is nothing lustrous or fascinating; whose whole life has been a lie, a mere mass of humbug and self- indulgence! Freedom, indeed! Even in our own comparatively favored land, how much downright, bona fide liberty is there'? I grant you, that our rights are more explicitly defined than elsewhere, in constitutions, and statute-books, more discussed by the press and the pulpit, more harangued about by orators at all sorts of gatherings ; but what do they all amount to, when fairly analyzed? Leaving the embellishments of rhetoric, and the exaggerations of self-love out of the question, and coming down to sober, naked facts, IL ask how much real freedom does a citizen, and especially one of small income, enjoy in this same metropolis of ours? How far may he express, unharmed, his honest opinions'? In Religion, for instance, suppose I were to say to- day, aloud in company, not in any sarcastic or ma- licious spirit, but frankly and modestly, that IL did not believe in the divine origin of Christianity; what would probably be my portion? Not melted lead, certainly; I should not be roasted alive before morning, I grant you, nor imprisoned, nor even lined, nor excluded from The ordinary places of re~ sort. But just a~ certainly, I should be exposed to all sorts of little annoyances and persecutions; doors now open, would be closed against me; daughters would be denied me in marriage; custoxner5 would drop off from me; my notes would have a harder CLOUDS AND SUNSflINE. 125 time of it in bank; my creditors would be more im- portunate than ever; my very servants would be less attentive and respectful. I should pay, in ten thousand small ways, for the luxury of giving breath to an opinion, which was unpalatable to the majority. My prospects in life would be materially injured by any such honest, but injudicious statement ; it mat~ ters not, though my skepticism may be the result of the reading and reflection of years, while the so-called faith, of three-fifths of my persecutors, may be mere hypocritical assumption, or the fruit of servile fear and ignorance; I must none the less pay the pen- alty. Let me express any unwelcome opinion to any party in power, 1 care not in what department of thought or branch of trade, and am I not quite as likely to pay roundly for it, in this as in any other era? I may not have to gulp my poison down on the spot, like Socrates, but I may confidently rely on the slow poison of misrepresentation and abuse; I may not be shot down wiLh that promptness and mystery with which plain-spoken men are sometimes disposed of; in the court-yards of imperial palaces, but I, in all probability, will be pelted, even to the edge of my grave, with the missiles of hired scribblers and slan- derers. And so the poor wife may not have her throat cut by her husband, with the same impunity now, as of old; but he may torment the very soul out of her, by his ceaseless neglect or cruelty, just as thoroughly and effectually as in the days of Nero. V m.L~. page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 12 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. Again, how much freedom of motion have I, in this thriving g city of ours ? How far is it modified and restrained, in the day-time, by the- lawlessness of omnibus-drivers, and the incursions of cattle-droves, and in the night, by the aggressions of rowdies and ruffians ? How much of what is so liberally accorded to me in my Bill of Rights and Declaration of Inde- pendence, do I practically enjoy, if caghtoto Broadway, and one or two other thoroughfares, after nine P. M., without the guaranty of Bowie-knife or revolver ? Honest answers to these questions, how mortifying, how- disgraceful are they, to us and to too many of, our sister-cities ! Freedom of election, too, that booh -of the race, that- showiest flower in the, bouquets of our orators, what becomes of nine-tenths of it, when fairly sifted ? What proportion of the votes polled in our town, last November, were the embodiments of intelligent, unbiassed, honest convic- tion? I speak not of the sae~rifices made, the degra-. ding exactions submitted .to, by the candidates for . office, in order to get their names formally before the pople;- but the sovereigns themselves, and above all, te colored portion of those sovereigns, how much free- dom of choice or action, did they have in the prem- ises ? Why, even the white Whig voter has found it a sufficiently perilous undertaking, in some of he wards of our city, to indicate, in the usual way,is plitia p references; but wo betide the colored tax- payerawho, in some unguarded moment, should un- dertake to turn into realities, the promises .of the Constitution ! Freedom, say you ? And not only must this worthy old soul be frightened away from the polls ; he is not even allowed to show that plea- -sant face of his, nor his excellent wife, inside of any omnibus or rail-car, in this enlightened town. I am no abolitionist, my friend. I have no sympathy with them. I consider them a set of ultraists and aggres- sors ; but I confess, it has made my blood boil, at times, to see an old man turned out of a car, in a cold, rainy night, because of his black skin, a~t the bidding of a set of creatures, infinitely below him in all the substantial qualities of humanity. These are disgraceful, damning facts, and are of far more signi- ficance, to every thoughtful mind, than a frigate-load of Fourth of July odes or orations. Need I say, how many other things there are, to compromise my free- dom ? The tribute to be paid to fashion, if one would avoid unpleasant, notoriety ; the tyranny of tailors, who one month incarcerate you in horribly tight gar- ments, and the next, set you adrift in a perfect fog of clothing ; the innumerable exactions of etiquette ; the ceaseless invasion of bores, duns, and quacks of all sorts ; the visitations of tax-gatherers, both pro- fessional and amateur ; the small slavery to one's own whims and caprices. and bodily needs and in- firmities, and to those of kindred and friends ; and the cruel fetters that our appetites and passions are continually forging for us : what becomes of all this 126 - ~1f~ 'I, I 19/[ page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 CLOUDS AND SUNSHIN1~. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 129 boasted freedom of ours, when we think of these things? I say again, I see about as little as ever of it in the world. I see the same predominance of'. tyranny as ever; the same disposition to over-ride and crush opposition, in all ranks and classes; the same unwillingness of the intellectual man to surren - der his sway over the minds of his brethren, and of the belle to bear a rival near her throne, and of the prima donna .to divide plaudits and bouquets with the new-corner, and of the wit-but why illustrate further-of every wilder of power, to share it with his fellows. Tyranny, where is it not'? At hearth and at altar, at social and political gatherings; the, tyranny of the majority, as we feel it, in our own land, to day, is it not about as cruel and unwise as any thing we read of; in Grecian or Roman history? A majority that wilfully turns its back upon the most politic measures, the most imperative duties of the Republic; that excludes its oldest and most honored sons from its high places; that rushes reck- lessly on, in the career of annexation and aggression; that would plunge us in a bloody war, to-morrow, for the sake of a few paltry acres, while it utterly neg- lects the legitimate development of its resources, and protection of its industry. And then, that most grinding4 crushing tyranny of all, the tyranny of mammon; the great autocrat, who has ruled the world from the beginning: when was the money- power ever more firmly established than now? In 4 what pai$ of its dominions, is it more omnipotent, than in this same boasting ~netropolis of ours ?- What iwill it not buy here, to-day, that should not be bought? What votes, and signatures, and puffs, and unlawful merchandise of all sorts, can it not freely command, for itself; and for its enemies, what pens of hireling scribblers, and pencils of caricatur- ists, and, if' need be, bludgeons of ruffians? We talk, with horror, of the degrading rites and obscene ceremonies of the Bacchanalia and Eleusinian Mys- teries of old, but were they, after all, much worse than the abject prostrations and cruel sacrifices that belong to this wide-spread Dollar-worship of our own times? I can't see much difference in them, I con- fess. The -more I think of all these things, the more unsubstantial and illusory Joes this vaunted freedom of ours~appear. Toleration is just as scarce an arti- cle as ever. If tyranny deal less' racks and faggots than she did, she has far more ~s ~nall ways of punish- ing her , victims, than ever she had. An opinion, however honest, if unpalatable to her, is about as costly a luxury, and truth-telling generally as unpro- fitable and perilous a business, now, as it was under the C~sars; nay, the whole pilgrimage of life is just- as hill of clogs, and restrictions and annoyances and perils, to-day, as when the first generation of sinners performed it. Brother A., of course, has no faith in,~ or sympathy with such a doctrine, and I will not dwell upoii it. A few words upon the item of good- 128 129 page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 4 'p CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. ness, and I have done. Is the world, then, any bet- ter than ever it was Th Is the spectacle which the earth presents, to-day, one whit more acceptable to its Creator, in a moral point of view, than in olden time? I don't believe it. I don't believe that the sum total of the thoughts, words, and deeds, that will have transpired in this metropolis, between sunrise and sunset of this pleasant day of December, in the yeal of grace, '1852, will any better bear divine in- spection, than a similar aggregate would have done, in Tyre, or Babylon, or Rome, in the days of their plenty and prosperity; and if there be, indeed, as we are told, a record kept above, of all these things, and we could turn to the celestial book~, and make the comparison for ourselves, we should find the points of difference, in this regard, as nothing, alongside of the multitudinous, the hideous points of resemblance. There wduld be less open bestiality and throat-cut~ ting, in the modern city, I grant you;, less blood of men shed in theatres, and of beasts in places of wor- ship; less downright brutal ignorance in the lower walks of life; but not one whit less of secret vices and villanies, of wide-spread selfishness and sensu- ality; the same domesticc bickering, the same cease- less squabbles about nothing, the same multiform frauds in trade, and quackeries of all sorts; the same corruption in high places, and small stealing in low ones; The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes; all, all the same; t14 same sad, guilty story that human life has been, from the beginning. Is it not so? Look again at the two multitudes, as they sweep by us; the one, as revived by the magic wand of thc~ poet, the other as we see it with our own bodily eyes, this day. Where is the difference, save in the hue and fashion of their garments? I can't see it. There are in both, the same passion-stained faces, the same martyrs to care and business and avarice and lust and gout and glory; in both, the' same tender babes, and frolicking children; the same tottering age; the same few scattered philosophers, the same hand~1 of men and women, going about on errands 6f love; in both, the same overwhelming majority of fops and clowns and pickpockets and sleek hypocrites and smooth-tongued scoundrels and painted harlots; the same frightful preponderance of oaths and falsehoods and filthy jests, over words of gentleness and prayer and thanksgiving. Gloomy' and repulsive as the picture may be, in either case, yet is it not the true one? Are we not enacting the same old drama, in New-York, to-day, with some slight changes in costume and scenery, that the men of Babylon were, in the days of Semiramis? II can't help thinking so. Else have I utterly misinterpret- 130 131 if 4 .1 I page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 182 CIoUDS- AND SUJNSHIINE, ed the teachings of history, do I utterly misread the records wherein- our -passing life is mirrored, do I belie the workings of my own heart, and of the hearts of my brethren. IBut why dwell upon the sad theme? It was not of my seeking. My friend here, will of course reject this version of the matter, as unsound and unjust. Be it so. Meanwhile I am prepared to listen respectfully to whatever he may see fit to say. in reply. -C. Well, fried d A., what is your answer to all this ? A. I certainly do reject it, as utterly untenable and unjust. I say there is a decided balance in fa- vor of us moderns, in all those particulars which brother B. has glanced at ; and with your leave, I will follow briefly in his track. First, then, as to knowledge. I say there is far more knowledge to: day in the world, in. every department of science and art, than- ever there was ; far more acquaintance both with the outside and the inside of the earth, and with the properties of its contents, animate and inanimate ; farA more, with the attributes of the other heavenly bodies, and with the laws that govern them; and above all, there is a thousand told great- er power of imparting, and multiplying, and circulat- ing our knowledge all over the globe, and of pre- serving it safe, forever, from the power of accident and the clutches of time. In this last respect, how marked our superiority ! We may defy all the 4 '4 I A - CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 133 torches of all, the Omars. If every imperial and roya~library of Europe were destroyed this day, nay, if the Old World itself were to disappear be- neath the waves, what is there really precious and substantial, either in Art or Letters, that we men of America would not -still have, or could 'not, with these materials and resources, these keen wits *and ironwills of ours, in good season, reproduce ? Not a-thing. All that is valuable in science and the literature of every clime, we should of course have, safe and sound already ; and as, for the rest, even the dearest and most famous master-pieces oi' Paint- ing, Sculpture, and Architecture,' is there one of them, that American 'genius could not in time re- place ? No, not one, from the Cathedral of Cologne down to the daintiest knick-knack of Paris. Thanks to modern skill, no precious thing of earth need ever again perish. No triumph of genius, no noteworthy deed of art or arms, no act of piety or patriotism, need ever pass from memory, but may live forever, and be scattered freely abroad, for the delight and instruction of the children of me'n. Think of these marvellous powers of multiplication and circulation that we have, and then of the slow processes of an-' tiquity : with what ado have a few stray fragments of their choicest poets, orators, and historians, b/n rescued from the jaws of oblivion. But I maintain that we have equally the advantage over our breth- ren of old, in the amount of our acquisitions. lNo I' page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] I 134 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE'. addition to the knowledge of the world, indeed ! I have no patience to argue such a point, andl I con- fess I am amazed that any man vwho has ever made the tour of a menagerie, or of a museum, or turned over the pages of an encyclopaedia, or 'even cast a curious eye over his own drawing-room, could think' of maintaining it for a moment I deny it in~ toto-. I say again, there is no branch of science, no walk of Art, from highest to lowest, wherein we are infe- rior to the ancients, while in ninety-nine hundredths almost, we are immeasurably their superiors. I deny their superiority in Metaphysics or the Fine Arts. I do not believe there were any more pro- found or subtle reasoners, in the days of Aristotle, than Fearne, or Cousin, or Edwards, or Calhoun ; nor that there were any grander or more beautiful thoughts embodied in stone, either in statues or in buildings, in the age of Pericles, than our own land can show to-day. Our sculptors are already the worthy brothers of Phidias and Praxiteles, and as to Architecture, I would ask what more princely structure did Athens ever contain, than the Girard College ; what building of its kind to be named in the same age -with the Philadelphia Penitentiary, that masterpiece of skill and invention, which every capital of Europe, almost, has imitated ? And so in music. If the specimens of Grecian music that liave recently been exhibited to us, truly represent the art, it is perfectly monstrous to -compare it with I 1: CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 135 the strains 'of Haydn, and Mozart, and Rossini. .If such were the melodies wherewith the Athenian maidens were serenaded, or the Athenian bride- grooms summoned to marriage, I can only say I pity then. They certainly sounded 'to me far more like that eccentric and lugubi-ious piece of vocaliza- tion, the morning song that poor old Red Jacket used to mumble over his cups, than like any thing in the Messiah, or the Sonnambula. And in painting. I cannot believe that the best specimens of the art ever produced in Rome or Athens, were to be com- pared with the apostolic heads of Rubens, or the an- gelic faces of Raffaelle, and Correggio, and Over- beck. I believe Christian art, in this department, to be as far superior to pagan, as are the themes within which it deals. Take Raffaelle himself, and who would compare, for a moment, his Galatea, or his Councils or Banquets of the Gods, with his Holy Families or Transfiguration ? -or the Hours in Gui- do's Aurora, lovely as they are, with his Madonnas and Saints? .By. the same rule, how much more grand and suggestive, how much more eloquent in its appeals, both to our imagination and our affec- tions, is a modern Cathedral, such as the Duomo of .Milan, for instance, with its pictured windows, its countless spires and angels, than any of the cold, cheerless temples of antiquity, for all their rich facades and harmonious proportions ! Nay, so per- suaded am I of our superiority in this walk of art, I :1 I / page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] .1 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. that I would not, on a venture, exchange the Mercy's Dream of Huntington for all that was ever done, in oil or fresco, by the greatest masters of the heathen world. And in poetry; who will say that we have fallen behind our brethren of old in this depart- ment? Or rather, who will not say, that Shak- speare and Milton alone are worth all the classic -bards put together? It seems to me sheer profi~nity to compare the Iliad or IEneid with the Paradise Lost, whether we consider the theme itself, the won- drous stores of learning with which it is illustrated, or the daring flights of imagination with which it is filled. And as to tragedy; would not the loss of King Lear alone, be a far greater one to the world than that of all the tragedies of old that have come dQwn to us? And I believe the same would be found1 true in comedy. Sparkling as Menander's plays must have- been, and bright the wits that list- ened to- them, I yet doubt whether they had any such brilliant passages-at-arms in them as those between Benedict and Beatrice, Orlando and Rosalind. No, no; there has been but one Mercutio, one Hamlet, one Imogen, since the great drama of life itself be- gan. But not to dwell any longer upon the fine arts, let me venture to cast a hasty glance over the broad domain of the useful. And here, si~rAy the supe- riority of as moderns is . most apparent, and over- whelming. In every branch of natural science, in our investigations of the laws of light and heat and motion and attraction, in our analysis and classifica- tion of all the objects about us~ animate and inani- mate, can there be any doubt about our wonderful progress in all these things? Why, England alone can produce four names, within a century back, that represent, I believe, fourfold more knowledge of all the secrets of nature, than would those of all the philosophers of Egypt, and Greece, and India com- bined. Could we bring together, to-day, all the wise men of the East, from the flood down, on the one hand, and the four intellects of Newton, Davy, Her- schel, and Brewster on the other, and have their re- spective acquisitions tested, if you will, by a select committee of seraphim, who can doubt to whom the prizes of victory would be awarded? And in the application of this knowledge to the business of life, is there not a corresponding progress? What sort of a figure would Archimedes cut to-day, as engi- neer and mechanician, alongside of the architect of the Crystal Palace? And which of his country- men would you select as the worthy counterparts of Watt, and Fulton, and Daguerre, and Morse, and Ericssorr? his very easy to say that the ingen- ious contrivances of these and kindred benefactors of their race, for the multiplication of objects and images, for the transmission of men, an(l things, and thoughts over the globe, and for saving, in ten thou- sand ways, the labor of their brethren, are all mere reappearance of lost arts; but what thoughtful I 136 if 137 page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] I 188 CLOUDS AND SUNSHiNE. man can believe it for a moment? I have no more idea, in yself, that steam, and caloric, and lightning were ever before pressed into the service of man, as we now behold them, than I have that the mantifac turers of Babylon turned out mord beautiful and truthful time-pieces, in the days of Semiramisthan do those of Geneva to-day; or that there were Power- Loom Carpet Factories in Jericho, in the days of Joshua, supplying Judea with more superb fabrics than those of our own Manchester and Lowell. Lowell itself; where was its counterpart among all the cities of antiquity? What land did it enliven and benefit? What stream fed its industry? The Indus, or the Ganges, or the Tiber? Ab, no; these names are associated with deeds of blood and con- quest only ; not of peaceful, honorable labor. Sup- pose Confucius himself were alive to-day, and on his travels; is there a sight on earth that would so im- press and delight him as this same Yankee-notion of a city? How would he contrast its exquisite ma- chinery, its comfortable dwellings, its various and intelligent industry, its comely, bright- eyed, well- clad laborers, with the stupid, squalid, wretched creatures, that did the work of the world in his time! Tell me not, that all this is a mere repetition of the past. Such a spot could not have perished from the face of the earth, without mark or record. No, no: as I said before, nothing short of the destruc- tion of the planet itself, could deprive us of these CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 139 same steam-presses, anJ steamships, these railroads and telegraphs of ours? and of their mighty results. They defy all that time and chance can bring against them. Once ours, we will keep them, and their fruits, safe and sound till doomsday. had they ex- isted before, why, we should only have been so much the farther on the road to our destined perfection, than we are; should have had so much the more material to study and to work from, so many the fewer problems for the philosopher and the philan- thropist to work oat. Ah no, these things are not mere revivals, but the genuine growth of our own tirvies; the legitimate result of the enlarged experi- ence and matured thought of the world; the natu- ral forerunners of still greater improvements and blessings to come. And so in all that belongs to commerce, navigation, agriculture, manufactures; to state is, it seems to me, sufficiently to argue the question of superiority, as bet~veen us and the an- cients. Take the merchant of Tyre, or of Babylon, in its prosperous days, and the merchant of New York; could we follow them from their respective homes to their counting houses, and through the business of the day, who can doubt that in every item connected with that business, from the ink he writes with, up to the lawyer he consults, the man of New York would be found to have the advantage2 I have no idea, for one, that the Tyrian or Babylo- nian had any such set of books, or system of book- 4 page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] i U 9 F 140 CLOUDs AND SUNSHINE. keeping, or Salamander safe, or Manifold Letter- Writer, or gas fixtures, any'such comfortable Cus- tomn House, or Exchange, or Reading Room to fre- quent, any such Commercial Dictionaries or Prices Current to consult, any such facilities in the way of Insurance, or of transmitting funds and orders all over the globe, as his American brother enjoys to- day. I have no idea that the lawyer of Tyre had in his library, any books that were fit counterparts, to Abibott on, Shipping, or B ayley on Bills, or Park* on Insurance, any more than I believe that the fellow of Lord Stowell ever sat on the Tyrian- bench, or that a Joseph Story ever administered justice in the courts of Babylon. No, no; such jurists, such treatises, such improvements of all sorts, could not have existed in those days; the world was not ripe for them. Theymare the genuine results of the en- larged commerce and knowledge of the race, and we ought so to consider them, and be grateful for them, instead of grumbling as we do, and perversely chant- ing the praises of the past. The commerce of anti- quity, indeed! I should as soon think of comparing it with that of our own times, as, of comparing the eomi-piratical cruise of Jason and his companions in search of the golden fleece with our own Australian and Californian expeditions. The old Persian kings, we are told, -used to keep the bottled waters of the Nile and -Danube, in their palaces, to show their guests, as memorials of their travels and conquests. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 141 Such a fact might have had its significance, in those days ; but how small and childish a thing does it seem to us, whose Newark cider is drank at the base of Ararat, and who, in one little month, can circulate all over the globe the healthful waters of Saratoga or of Sharon ! The products of ancient commerce, what were they, compared with ours?& Not to speak of cotton and sugar, I verily believe that there is more business done to-day, in India Rubber alone, with its myriad shapes and uses, than all the com- mercial transactions of Greece would have amounted to, put together. .The navigation of antiquity, too ! The timid, creeping navigation of the shipmasters of Tyre and Carthage, how monstrous to speak of it in the same breath with our world-searching merchant- men and whalers ! But I may not stop to multiply illustrations. Brother B., in the course of his re- marks, then went on to assert and to mourn over the departure of the beautiful and the picturesque from earth. . He said the planet and every thing on it, were growing homelier every hour, and that every calling of life was fast losing all its poetical surround- ings. More especially was this the case, he said, in the art of war ; a battle, now-a-days, was -a very ugly, dingy affair, compared with a similar exhibition in the time of Coriolanus. .Well, it may be true, to a certain extent. The description in Plutarch, to which he referred, of Alexander arming himself, in true Homeric style, for conquest, is indeed most 4 * It I I page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] *1 MU CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. graphic and spirited ; and no doubt it would have given a Salvator Rosa more pleasure to have painted a fight, in which such combatants figured, than to. have transferred those of Bunker's Hill, or York- town, to canvass. But in all other points of view, IJ should say, our modern warfare was far the more interesting of the two. Take the battle of Arbela, as one of the most memorable specimens of antique fighting, and look at it, alongside of. Waterloo.-- Think of the scale on which things were done, the character of' the agencies employed, the amount of science and art expended in getting up the respective exhibitions, and who can hesitate for a moment in deciding as to which was the grander and more terri- ble display of strength and of genius ? Why, the former sinks into a mere dog-fight, in comparison.-- In the same way, put Salamis alongside of Trafal- gar ; for mere pictorial purposes, no doubt, the former would have been more acceptable to a Claude ; but as a manifestation of physical and intellectual power, how altogether inferior is it ! Why Nelson, with his good ship Victory alone, had he been there, would halve scattered the combined fleets of Greece and Persia, like so many chickens in a barn-yard. In one thing, however, I must join -issue with brother B., most distinctly ; I mean, in seeing more beauty in the painted tubs that figure in Yander Yelde's pictures, 'than in our own gallant clipper-ships. I think he libelled these last most atrociously. How- 142 IdB ever, every one to his notion. If he prefers creeping round the globe, in one of the former, with its awk- ward decks and clumsy arrangements and comfort- less accommodations, to a smart, dashing trip in one of the latter, it seems hard that he should be depri- ved of the privilege. By the same rule, he would no doubt also prefer, were it practicable, to go to sea, to-day, and test his stomach, and take his chance, in one of those same gilded galleys of Greece, or of Carthage, that he so eulogized, utterly unprovided as they were, with chart or compass, life-boat or life- preserver, to all the appointments and luxuries of a Collins' steamer. To me, I confess, such language .seems most unreasonable; a most ungrateful return for the manifold blessings and comforts that we moderns enjoy. Hie then went on to say, and seemed to take it for granted, that in pretty much all matters of taste and luxury, we were far behind the men of im- perial Rome ; that we could not begin to get up such dandies or curricles, dinners or dinner-services ; that our turbots, and the sauces we put upon them, were alike inferior to those discussed by Heliogabalus, etc., etc. I don't believe a word-of it. I believe the -facts are all the other way, and that there are a .thousand-fold more dainties and knick-knacks and objects of luxury, as well as of comfort, in the world, this day, than there ever were before. I am amazed that any man should think otherwise ; should pre- sume to say, that there was any such show or variety Ii $1 r I f~ I page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] I lli~ CLOUDs AND SUNHINE. CLOUDS -AND SUNSHINE. in the shops of Roinie, in the days of Augustus, as we see in those of the Boulevards or of Broadway. Tell mne, that Cicero had any Appleton's to look in at, or turnover dainty books in ; or that his wife had 'any place to buy bonbons in, for the, children, to be named with Thompson and Weller's ? LIdon't be- lieve it, any more than I do that. the counterpart of Stewart's Palace or the St. Nicholas Hotel, was then extant. Santa Claus himself, who can doubt that he has a thousand-fold more materials to fill his blessed old. pack and wagon from, to-day, than were ever dreamt of-in those hea-then times ? Nbr have I an~y idea that Horace ever washed down his jokes, with any thing comparable to our own Chateau Margaux; or that Moecenas ever set a supper-table, half so crowded with dainty dishes superb specimens of con- fectionery, bright thoughts piut into sugar or choco- late or jelly, as those of our own merchant-princes nightly groan under ; or that the kitchen of Lucullus ever turned out any such complete works of art, as the foies gras and dindes truffees of Strasburg. I believe Heliogabalus would have given a province to have sat down to such a meal, as the carte of the Trois freres, or Very can furnish. That famous house of Nero, too ; what was there in it, to be named as a combination of beauty and utility, with one of the chandeliers of Cornelius ? Where, too, were its Paris clocks, and grand pianos'? No such pleasant' music, in those days. Where was their Punch, and Lantern, and Comic Almanac, and Illustrated News ? Where their Gift IBooks, and Monthlies, and Quar- terlies ? Why, a man has only to put his hands into his own pockets, to find a score of evidences of the progress of the world. Is there indeed, any want or whim, either of fop, epicure, or scholar, that cannot be gratified, in this age of contrivances ? But not to illustrate by small things, let us look at large ones. Take Chatsworth, then, as the exponent of modern civilization, and Adrian's villa, as that of the ancient ; and in which of these microcosms would the philoso- pher and the poet find most materials for thought and fancy ? Whose grounds would shew the most scientific planting and gardening, whose gardens the finest fruit? From whose conservatories could the lover cull the choicest bouquet for his mistress ?- The magnificence of the latter might be on a grander scale, but. surely it would be far more monotonous. There might be a few chef d'oeuvres in his galleries that his English brother could not rival; but as to the variety and suggestive character of their -con- tents, who can doubt which would 'have the prefer- ence ? The imperial library, too, might be more lofty, and its frescoes more brilliant. There might be some charming manuscripts in its alcoves, that we would gladly have, to-day.; but we see no Bible there, no Shakspeare, no Waverley Novels, no Rob-, inson Crusoe, no Vicar of Wakefield, none of those ten thousand other dear and precious books that I 144 145 4 ii ~ii 71 page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] ~4 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. grace the English shelves. And so throughout the two domains.. And what a shame it would be, if it were not so, seeing that the Duke hath a world twenty centuries older, and twice as large, to pick from, as the Emperor had. The discovery of Ame- rica; who can begin to estiftiate aright the accession to our knowledge, in all the kingdoms of nature, that has grown out of it? Why, had Niagara itself been the sole fruit of* the researches of Columbus, he would have been still entitled to the hearty thanks of the world; but when we think of the magnificent rivers, and forests, and boundless seas of fertile acres, that he has revealed to his brethren, and of the mighty part they are playing and to play in the drama of earth, what language can express his claims upon our admiration and gratitude? What are all the demi-gods of antiquity, alongside of a hero like this? But I must not linger any longer on this topic. How is it, then, as to the health of the world? Are we gainers in this regard, or losers? Here again III must differ from friend B. I think the sta tistics would be found against him. That we shame- fully neglect the rules of health, too many of us, and have to pay the bitter penalty, in consequence, and our children after us; that there are far too many martyrs all about us, to all sorts of intemperance, is, of course, not to be gainsaid. At the same time, I have no idea that we have any thing like the num- ber of sick, famine-pinched, deformed, crippled, muti- lated creatures, that defaced and disgraced the times of old. I believe that, take the world through, there is far more health, and comeliness, among the chil- dren of men, this day, than ever before, and that the improvement in this respect is the necessary result of a higher culture. I have no patience with the doctrine, that as the civilization of the race advances, its bodily vigor declines; that mental and physical power may not go together; that disease is the ever attendant slave upon the triumphs of genius. Oh, no; I believe that the greatest minds of the world have been, almost universally, in its soundest bodies; I believe, moreover, that there are far more such minds and bodies at work, this hour, than earth ever knew before. Besides, who can doubt that there are far more preventive against sickness, known to us, than there were to the ancients. Let me again cite India Rubber, that boon to humanity. What such shield against the assaults of the elements, had they in Greece or Rome 7 Surely, Hippocrates or Pliny would have made honorable mentiQn of it, had it ex- isted in their time, with its ten thousand ministra- tions unto human comfort. And as to remedies: who will say, that twenty added. c~rituries of obser~ ovation, have not enlarged our stock of them? have not augmented our knowledge of the Grace that lies In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities 3 146 147 III ii 1~ t I ii page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] 148 LOUD ANDSUNSINE.CLOUDs AND SUNSHINE. 14 Surely, we have a larger assortment of mineral springs, than our elder brothers had, a more tho- rough analysis of them, and infinitely more facility of scattering their treasures' abroad ; we have a far choicer stock of climates to select from; a far more copious medicine-chest to prescribe from. Can any one doubt it ? Wouldn't Galen himself say so, were he here, to-day ? Wouldn't he confess, too, that there were no such hospitals in Rome, or Alexandria, or Athens, in his time, as our cities contain ; no such resources for the student, in, the way of lectures and, galleries and hqboratories and libraries ; no such comforts for the patient ? When he was Marcus Aurelius's doctor, Rome was in the very zenith of her splendor, having millions of souls within her walls, and filled with sumptuous edifices ; but among them all, we read of no asylum for orphan, foundling, or lunatic ; no Institution fc.- the Deaf and Dumb or Blind ; no Home for the Friendless ; no Eye or Ear Infirmary ; no Dispensary; in a word, of no provision, either by prince or people,:for the relief of the poor, infirm, or aged. It would be unjust, certainly, to infer from this silence, that the ancients utterly neglected these duties; but it would be equally unreasonable, I think, to suppose, that had there been any truly munificent outlay for such pur- poses, any thing at all comparable to the Greenwich or Chelsea Hospital, the Hotel Dieu or Invalides of our own day, that the memory of such benefactions A4 could have thus utterly perished. Fame could not have been so neglectful~ of her deserving children. No, no ; these institutions belong to a far more civil- ized, Christianized age, as do all the appliances and contrivances that we find in them, to a far more learned one than that of Greece or Rome. I cer- tainly cannot believe, myself; that there were any such surgical instruments or performances then, as we now have ; any such beautiful operations in den- tistry, any such application of ether, any such arti- ficial legs or eyes, as ours. I have no idea that there was any apothecary's shop in any metropolis of antiquity, to be named in the same breath with our own Rushton's or Delluc's. The world -wasn't old or wise enough, hadn't half mineralogical, bota- nical, chemical knowledge enough, in a word, had neither the tools nor the wits, adequate to the pro- duction of any thing so superb, so complete and thorough in all its appointments, such a charming combination of science, skill. and taste. Will any one tell me, then, in the face of all these numberless resources in the way of prevention, and alleviation, and restoration, that the health of the world has gone behind hand ? It seems, to me, most unrea- sonable. 'But far more unreasonable and unjust still, was brother B.'s statement, that there was no more Freedom in the world to-day, than ever. How he could make it and contend for it as he did, in the face of such palpable, such glorious facts as we see 11 d I 148 169 page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. all around usis' to me surprising. I shall, very briefly, reply to some few points urged by him. Af- ter first casting a very sorrowful glance over the' rest of the work1~ he then went on to illustrate his remarks by our own country, and to call in question the reality and~value of our privileges as freemen. And first, in matters of religion. He could see no more toleration in that regard, now than ever. He almost said, in so many words; that there was very little to choose, so far as peace and comfort were concerned, between the position of the infidel in New York to- day, and that of the Christian in Tarsus in the time of Paul; that the only change, indeed, that he could see, was in the character of the missiles employed, and not in the hearts of the persecutors, and that if the modern skeptic were less exposed than was the ancient believer to the downright, brutal violence of a mob, he was yet pretty sure to be pelted, all through life, with small slanders and libels, and to be subjected to affronts and annoyances innumera- ble. Now, this seems to me a most extravagant and unfair representation of the matter. I see no such spirit of persecution ~n the community myself. On the contrary, I see a great and constantly increasing spirit of toleration and courtesy, not merely between different denominations of Christians, but towards infidelity. I have no idea that the modest expres- sion of disbelief has any such penalties annexed to it, as brother B. so fancifully described; or that a V I' CL0UD~ AND SUNSHINE. 151 young man of fai talents and blameless life, even though he be an avowed skeptic, need therefore be defrauded of a good wife, or a good business, or any other lawful prize that he may aspire to. If, indeed, he go out of his way to s~ieer and rail at Christi- anity, if he make a mock of the most sacred func- tions of the church, wherewith all our best affections and dearest associations are entwined, then must he be treated accordingly; must expect to have the doors of worthy men closed against him; and most righteously, as an offender against good-breeding and decency, and a disturbed of the public peace: but as to the honest doubts of the well-disposed man, surely there was never such a readiness as now, all over Christendom, to meet them in a spirit of candor and conciliation. How any intelligent observer can deny a fact so plain, so cheering as this, I confess amazes me. Equally fanciful and, extravagant seemed to me friend B.'s assertion as to the restrictions upon the freedom of motion, of the citizen, in our metro- polis. He could not have been in earnest, when he undertook to infer, from the occasional outrages of a gang of rowdies, in some obscure quarters of the town, or from the occasional shortcomings of a not yet perfectly developed police-system, that the great blessing in question is not practically enjoyed by the people; still less, when he undertook to say, that because there has been a breach of the peace now and then, in one or two wards of one or two cities I I Ii 1; II ~: ~ I ii 'I ii ~ j 7 I page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] i f 7 152 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. of the Union, 'in times of political excitement, that freedom of election is not a great and glorious real.- ity throughout the landj, bnt a mere figure of speech in our statute books, a mere rhetorical embellish- ment -in the flights of our orators. How unreasona- ble, how ungrateful to talk thus ! Why, when I look back upon the fourth of last November, and think of the spectacle which America presented to the world on that day; when I think of the prompt, quiet, orderly way in which twenty-five millions of people changed their rulers, without a solitary loss of life or limb, no, not even of an eye or tooth, that I have heard of; I am lost in wonder and admiration. When-did men ever see any thing like it before? Show me its counterpart, if you can, in Grecian or Roman experience, or in that -of any .other nation. Was it not as great a novelty in. the political history of the world, as the magical rapidity with which the result was sent by steam and lightning, all over the globe, 'was without precedent in its social experience ? And again, when I look forward to the fourth of March coming, and consider in what an unpretend- ing, pleasant, courteous waypour excellent Chief Magistrate will hand over the lkeys of office, and the chair of state, that loftiest and most honorable chair on earth, to his successor ; what a simple, old-fash- ioned, republican ceremony it will be, with no absurd ' parade of troops, no superfluous precautions against outbreaks ; with nothing in it either to dazzle or ter- . CLOUDb AND SUNSHINE.. .153 rify the beholder ; occasioning, too, 'not a feather's weight of disturbance in the nation, interrupting not for a moment the grand, beneficent movement of the great wheels of government ; I say, when I think . of these things, I am far more disposed to fall on my knees and thank God, for having permitted me to draw breath in such an age and land; and to be an humble .participant in such privileges and blessings, than to carp, and rail, and make unfavorable com- parisons, and deny the palpable, the glorious progress of the world in all that belongs to freedom. Is .it necessary to argue a point so clear as this ? Will any man deny, either, that the people of Europe have far more rights and~ comforts now, than they ever had before; that the tyrants of Europe are far more afraid than ever of public opinion ; that politi- cal crimes can no longer be hushed up, but are straightway dragged forth from the strongholds of autocracy, and branded with a world's execration ; that WiTt is. more free than ever to throw its shafts at all sorts of abuses; that Truth has a far better chance than ever before, of triumphing over the ca- bals of cliques, or the bayonets of ruffians ; that a good word, from a wise man, is listened to by a hun- dred-fhousand fold greater audience than ever; that any good thing, be it in matters of Faith, Art, or Science, hath far more potency and significance than ever, traveling as it straightway does into all lands, translated as it is into all languages ; in' a word, 44 ii I I i 'I page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] A 154 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. that the masses are hourly gaining in intelligence, dignity, and pqwer, while their eneniies and opprcs& ors ar~ hourly losing strength and heart? I should as soon think of denying my own existence, as of questioning these things, nor will I stop to discuss them. Need I say, finally, t~iat I think brother B. was equally astray from the fruth in his last state- ment, that the world is no better to-day than ever it was? Surely, surely the facts a6re all the other way. I believe there is a mdst cheering progress in thi~ respect; that the spectacle daily presented by our New York is far more acceptable to God and holy angels, than was that of Rome or Babylon in their happiest days ; and that alike' the fallible re- cords of men, and the unerring ones of heaven, had we access to them, would demonstrate it; that we have far more happy homes and virtuous households; more good women going about, ministering unto sick- ness and poverty; more good men devoting their time and money to purposes of charity ; more be- nevolent associations of all sorts; more looking after poor vagrants, and foundlings, and idiots; more asy- lums for all manner of distresses and infirmities; more good preachers, and sermons, and the blessed fruits thereof. Do we not, every day, hear of some munificent donation, or see the corner-stone laid of some building dedicated to charity, that may be traced directly to the timely wprds of some good priest, whose eloquence has aroused the zeal, or con- CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 155 firmed the, wavering purpose of the benevolent ?- These are not idle fancies, but substantial and de- lightful realities, to which every ward bears witness. I have no idea that any metropolis of old had any such blessed list of charities to show, no, not imperial IRome herself, in any period of her career, as our own dear town can, to-day, with all her imperfections and short comings; else has history most cruelly belied them. And so throughout the world; looking, not at mere isolated spots, but taking a broad, generous survey of the whble, will any one deny that there is a most marked improvement in the moral condition of the race; that there is more good feeling among nations, more equity in international law, more lib- erality in treaties, more humanity in war; a more merciful administration of justice, a better prison-dis- cipline, a far more wise and gentle dealing with all the maladies of the body politic; more efforts made, both by ~governments and individuals, for the diffusion of knowledge; more grand gatherings for lofty and honorable ends; more disposition to speak and listen to the truth, to bury old animosities, to promote the arts of peace, and the interchange of the products of industry, and to put an end to the horrible business of throat-cutting'? Will any one deny that there is far less profanity and bestiality in the world; less cannibalism, less abominable superstition of all sorts; less of that bitter, malignant spirit that so disgraced the feuds of rival states and cities, in old times, that 'I I I. I 4 rL~ifIt2 page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 16 CLOUDS. AND SUNSHINE. warred alike with the dead and the living, and that made a slave of every captive ? I cannot hesitate, for one, in my answers to all these questions.' I be- lieve, too, that the march of mind, of which we hear so much, has been, not the mere figure of speech that brother .B. Would inamke ~t out, but a .veritable, arduous, glorio us progress ; that the mission of *Christ has been, not the miserable failure it would be, if his picture of humanity were the true one, but a source of infinite blessings to the race ; the fount 'froin which all the best thoughts, words, and deeds of the world have been 'derived. 'No culture less tliorough,, no creed less lofty could have given us the innupmerable privileges and improvements, moral and matali al, that we enjoy. To say that these. things are all mere repetitions of the past; that they have had their day before on earth, and have disappeared a1$sumbered for ages, without trace or record, and have then been revivejl, only to go through the same round and to die the same temporary death ; such a view of human life .and destiny, however it lnay amuse the fancy, seems to me as unreasonable as it is discogiraging. I have no belief in it 'myself. 'I believe in the steady progress of the race, ever since creation-morning ; and that the. things that most adorn and bless our day were utter strangers to the men of antiquity. I have no idea' that we shall ever stumble on that slumbering fac simile of Lon- don'or New York either in the deserts of Arabia, A ii CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 157. pm or beneath the waters of the Euphrates, to which friend B. alluded; or that any Asiatic records will ever be exhumed, wherein the counterparts .of our own Washington or Webster will be found ; any -more than I have, that a Peace 'Congress ever came together in Babylon, or iny Grinnell Expedition ever left 'the port of Tyr~e, or Crystal Palace ever drew travelers to Athens, or that our own glorious common school system was known to the lawgivers -of Egypt. iNo; such men, such deeds, such 'ideas as these, are the' blessed, result of an older, vwiser, better world; as far superior to any thing antiquity ever witnessed, as I believe they will be found infe- - rior to those of twenty centuries ahead. And now, friend C. (for I have talked quite long enough), let me appeal to you in this matter. What say you'? Which of us seems nearest to the truth'? Are these improvements that I see all around me, and these bright hopes that I build upon them, the mere creations 'f a credulous enthusiasm, as brother B. ~seems to think them, or is he himself unreasonably skeptical and gloomy in his views ? I confess, I should like to hear what you have to say on these points. B. AndLI C. -Well, friends, I certainly have some rough notions of my own, on these matters, though I'hardly think them worth listening to. At any rate, I have no idea of .inflicting them upon you to-day. If when I A 4 I jv page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] T 158 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. we next meet, you are disposed to renew the discus- sion, you shall be heartily welcome to them, such as they are. A. Very well, let us so understand it. U. Till when, farewell. CONVERSATION '~ I -______ A. And now, friend C., for your opir matters discussed at our last conference. you'? Am I right, in my rose-colored v: present and the future, or brother B. he] gloomy ones? How is it'? C. Well, to be candid, brethren, I dc with either of you. I certainly have nc with the sad and skeptical spirit that see vade brother B.'s remarks. I think he too hard and bitter upon poor human n yet I cannot help thinking, also, that th4 onthewholefar more on his side of tI? I do not believe, in a word, that there ha material progress, either in the ~isdom of the world, since man first set foot upo any detached age or nation, and compare other, we see, of course, marked differ looking at the whole earth and race, fron I 4 iion on the What say iews of the ~e, with his agree not sympathy ~med to per- was quite ature; and ~ facts are, ~e question. sbeenany )r goodness nit. Take it with an- [ ences; but ~ the begin- '4 11 page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 1(30 (1 LOUDS AN]) SUNSHINE. 161V (~LO1Jr~5 ANY) STTNTSITINE. fling, I believe that what we call human life afi(l htv man nature, are just the same flOW flS CYCP, aU(l that; they will be so, unto the end. 1 believe that the history of 11w future will be substantially the his- tory of the past ; with the same lights and shadows. the same alternations and vicissitudes. I have no idea that the twentieth century of our era will 1)0 as brilliant a one as the present, or that the historian of the twenty-first will have any such triumphs of art or science to record, as we see to-day; but that there will be the same reaction that there always has been ; nay, that we shall have, in due season, t}ie dark ages over again; that the Course of Em- pire must be everywhere fulfilled; that it is not henceforth to be a mere flourish of rhetoric, a mere thought elaborated on canvas, but just as much the experience of nations yet unborn. as of those that perished ages ago. I believe that London and Paris are destined to be the same heaps of rtt~m~. that old iome and Ephesus now are; that our own land, after going through a glorious development, and reaching a higher point of culture in some respects, perhaps, than human annals have yet borne witness to, must, in tnrn, bow her. lofty head, ahd droop and. die, and return to her primitive desolation; must become the same beast-and-savage-haunted wilderness, that the men of Plymouth found her. I believe, in short, that the perfection to which brother A. looks for ward so hopefully, exists only in hi~ own ardent irriagina- A tion; that there never will he any better or wom~e men on earth than we have had already ; no IHtol leot more subtle than that of Aristotle, no heartier lover of truth than Socrates, no patriot that will ever dim the lustre of Washington's fame; and, en the other hand, no wretch that will ever make its for- get the atrocities of Ilerod or of Nero; that the planet was never intended to be the abode of angelic loveliness, or of ~endish malice, but the home of man, our brother; the same yesterday, to-day, and forever; the same compound of strength and of weakness, of good and of bad qualities, in the one hundred thousandth, as in the flrst century of hu- man history. I believe that the same impassable barriers exist now, and ever will, that ever have, to man's knowledge of those very things that yet most interest and disturb him ; to the know~ed~e of hi~ own origin and destiny, of the principles of life, the phenomena of death, the wonders beyond the grave: that God hath not, either in his work3 or word, and never will give his children: while on earth. any more than the vaguest hints concernin~ these mrs- teries. I believe the same obstacles exist. and will exist, as ever, to the mental and moral progress of the race; obstacles growing out of these frail. crav- ing bodies' anti wayward minds of ours out M our native aversion to labors and l~ve of ease and self- indulgence ; and upon which no conceivable orgam- ~atiou of society, no stimulus of precept or example~ ii I I 160 page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] I 162 CLOUDS. AND StTNSTJ'INF~ ao multiplication of books,' or schools, or teachers, can ever make any permanent unpression ; and therefore, that the great and good of earth will always be, as they have been, in sad disproportion to the ignorant and sinful. I believe that all the inequalities of endowments and condition, all the accidents, struggles, feuds, pains, sorrows of life, will exist while earth exists ; just as much as I be- lieve that men will ah~ays be looking sup at the same stars, climbing the same mountains, and sailing over the same oceans that they now do; in a word, that the orchestra of nature, the drama of life will never chai~ge. I have not the remotest idea that we mor- tals will ever become so peaceful, wise, and happy, that the plays of Shakspeare will cease to interest us; save as curiosities; as the representatives of in- firmities and evils no longer extant; but that they will be the same faithful mirrors of humanity, ten thousand years' hence, as to-day. I have no doubt that there will be just as many whims to humor, follies to laugh at, vices to lash, crimes to punish, just as much work for the satirist, and caricaturist, and magistrate, in A. D. 18,530, as in the year of grace 1853; that life will be the same web of min- gled' yarn; the same many-colored thing as ever. I believe, too, that the children of men will be found living in the same old-fashioned homes as ever; not distributed in any orderly array of groups and se- ries and phalan.xes, but scattered about the valleys G'JAOIJJ)S AND SUNShINE. 163 ami hill-sides of e~rth, or congregated in cities, as we 110W 5CC them; that the same fa ruilyjoys and farnily~jars will, then us now, cheer and torment humanity ; that the same visionary schemes for supplanting them, will continue to haunt the brains of dreamers; that the men of those days, like their bre Ijhren of to-day, will persist in loving their own kin~re{~, and firesides, and land, and language more than those of the anti- podes; that there will be as great a multiplicity as ever of' creeds, governments, and opinions in the world; that CC the king's crown, and the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, and the judge's robe," will be, not obsolete ideas, extant only in the verses of forgotten poets, but living, significant realities; that liberty, equality, and brotherhood will still con- tinue ~o be the same objects of desire, the same bright and beautiful illusions as ever. In short, I believe that the world will remain the same primary school for souls that it always has been; with the same feeble understandings to deal with, the same limited range of studies, the same rough discipline; that the brevity of life, the liability to sudden death and loss of reason, the infirmities of age, nay, that all the disappointments, inequalities, doubts~ temptations, perils, evils, about us, must ever exist on earth, as the indispensable accompaniments of that very scheme of education which God intended ) C -. page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] I 164. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE*. for his earthly children. .But not to expand or illus~- trate this thought at too great length, I would ask, what is there in it -so very irreverent, or unphiloso- phical, or discouraging. If I believe, as I most fervently do, in immortality, as proclaimed alike by reason and scripture, and in all the glories and ter- rors that are involved in it, what is there so repul~- sive in this picture of humanity Why should not just such a planet as earth have been set apart by God for just such as purpose ; as the first of a series of experiences, for the formation and .development of spiritual character ? Why, then, seek to disturb the arrangements-? Why break up this beautiful order of things ? Why call for a course of lessons, or system of discipline here, that would be inappropriate to our position ? Why fondly expect to realize on earth, those visions that can only become realities in a more advanced stage of our career ? Or why, on the other hand, madly and blasphemously pronounce all about us, mere vanity and rubbish ? Are not both these extremes, of credulous enthusiasm, and sneering skepticism, alike unreasonable ? There are ten thousand subtle and puzzling questions, of course, that grow out of such a thought, and which our poor wits cannot begin to fathom; but the thought itself seems to me the most natural and appropriate, nay, encouraging, that, could enter the mind ; certainly the mostin accordance with Christianity. Why else, indeed, was Christ sent on earth, to establish a per- (iLOUD'3 AND SUNShINE. 165 nmanent religion ? Why was that blessed medicine for souls given us, to last, as we believe, while man lasts, but because these very infirmities, sins, and sorrows with which it deals, are to be with us always? I am for taking the world, then, as I find it, with all its rough teachings and heart-vexing mysteries ; for playing my humble part and studying my. humble lesson as best I- may, without asking impertinent questions, the answers to which are wisely withheld from mc ; without clamoring for impracticable im- provements ; without grumbling, because the stripes may appear to be laid, at times, on the wrong backs, or because the sweets and bitters are not distributed according to my poor notions of right ; believing that as I advance from stage to stage of my spiritual edu- cation, all these problems will gradually be cleared up, and the wisdom and gopdness of the great Teacher .be made manifest. Of course, then, holding these views, I. cannot look forward to any such revolutions here below, as brother A. speaks of. As I said be- fore, his idea of a steady progress to perfection on earth, seems to me a mere fancy sketch. I have no faith in it. I believe thie world will remain as it is; that it will present the same motley spectacle, ages hence as now ; the same variety of phenomena, alike in nations and in individuals ; that it is not going to become one great garden, one scene of uniform peace and plenty and happiness ; or mankind a band of .brothers, speaking the same language, sitting down ii It V I', 1* A A page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] [ CLOUDS AN'D 'SUNSHINE. to the same bounteous table, interchanging tasks and sports and civilities, without distinction of rank, clime, or color. Oh, no ; I believe the poet will have the same old song to sing in the long ages to come, as he is singing this hour ; the historian the same many-sided story to tell; that earth will have, then as now, her sterile and accursed spots, her noisome weeds and venomous reptiles ; that there will always be wildernesses enough for beasts to roam and howl in, ruins enough for owls to build in, and moralists to- muse over ; that her church-yards will always hold the saffie motley gathering of wise and simple, of young and aged sleepers ; that wars and famines and pestilences will still be sent forth upon their terrible missions ; that whirlwinds and earthquakes and volcanoes will still play their fearful, but God- appointed parts ; that there will always be, as now, the same warfare in the elements, and in the hearts of men ; yes, while the earth continues. to perform her journey through the skies. These things make life the battle it is ; 'this is the schooling, the train-. ing whereby God prepares his children for the more lofty and arduous tasks that are to follow. And is not the planet itself, all 'the more dear and interest-- ing to us, on this very account ; as a place ,not in- tended to be handed over, either to angels or to devils, but set apart, forever, as the theatre of human action'? Why do we so love to linger over the tombs of old, or to mieditate among the ruins of dead cities ? 4 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 167 Because the men they commemorate or recall, were our brethren ; because their joys, feuds, sins, sor- rows, were the sane as ours ; the drama of life pre- cisely the same then, that it is now ; the 'still, sad music of humanity,' that we listen to, the same that was chanted of old. And will not, for these very reasons, the same sighs be heard, the same homilies be read over our own remains and monuments, here- after ? -I have no doubt of it. I have no doubt that some future Marius will yet moralize over this same shattered metropolis of ours ; or that the traveler will, ages hence, be gathering wild flowers among the ivy-hidden ruins of Marshfield, as he gathers them, to-day, at the tomb of the Scipios.. And why not ? 'I repeat the question ; is not this view of hu- man, destiny more reasonable, than that which on the one hand would turn this world into a paradise, for which God has not furnished the materials, or on the other, would treat it as so much rubbish only fit for the flames'? So it seems to me. Why then seek to alter God's arrangements ? Why should not the earth continue to play the. part thus assigned her, and as she still keeps on in her thousand-fold re- peated journey through the heavens, so keep on, through all time, telling the same old story, reading the same old lesson as ever, to man ; to man, alike when here,, in the midst of the strife of life, and to nman, when translated to other spheres of action ?- What different systems og, discipline, what higher I 166 page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] I, U 168 CLOUDs AND SUNSHiNE. ~ courses of study, what more grand or subtle organi- zations may await us, in those other worlds, these things are all, in God's wisdom, hidden from us.- - Meanwhile, here we are, in the preparatory school, with its teachings and trials, corresponding to this, our spiritual childhood. Surely it is not a discour- aging, but a grand and inspiring thought, that this earth of ours is thus the beginning of a magnificent scheme of education ;' the first of a series of divine academies, for developing and perfecting that spirit- ual cultur-e, which our affections and understandings, which nature and revelation alike proclaim to be the destiny God hath in store for all his children. ~In this light, all the evils, and sorrows of life are as much divinely appointed teachers as their opposites; aidd that very preponderance of sin and suffering that we see about us, the arrangement of all others, the best suited to bring out both the passive and the active virtues; in a word, to make our schooling here, the most complete and thorough. Such, my friend, is my humble interpretation of the matter, an interpretation, endorsed, I think, by the soundest philosophy and poetry of the world, and by the Scrip- tures themselves. But I see you' don't agree with me. A. I certainly do not. Your doctrine seems to me to have far more assumption than proof about it, far more plausibility and ,poetry, than truth. It wodplelzzle you too, exceedingly, I think, to recon- CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 169 cile it with the old-fashioned, scriptural notions, eithei- of this world, or the next. But, not to argue the point on scriptural grounds, the great cardinal objection I have to your theory, is its inevitable ten- dency to depress and discourage all efforts after im- provement. What can be. more disheartening than to tell me, that whatever I may do, or the genera- tion to which I belong, towards transmitting this trust, the earth, which we have received from our fathers. in a sounder condition to our children, will all amount to nothing ; that those very children, or theirs, will only undo all that we have been doing ; and that this is the history of the world from the beginning; that not an inch of veritable progress has been made, but that -we have. been describing the same dreary round ever since God .first made and blessed man? Why, what is this but a direct invitation to sloth and despondency ? I cannot, I will not accept such an idea. I do not believe that the deeds and lessons of the past have been so thrown away upon us. I will not so insult my Ma- ker, or -belie history, or the instincts of my own heart, as to cherish such a notion, and turn human life-into such a pitiful game of see-saw as this. I believe that God has a far higher destiny in store for earth, than the one yoiu describe ; nay, that h~tas given men the capacities and materials for working out the problem of perfection, here ; and that they are now, and ever have been, slowly and painfully, A F I, I, 1~ Ii II L i 1- page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] I 170 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. but surely, working out that problem; that every day is adding facilities for its solution ; that there are now far more brains employed upon it, more truths shedding light upon it, than were ever known before ; and that, in God's good -time, the glorious consummation' will be reached-; yes, here, on earth, by living, breathing man. I cannot accept any thought less cheering than this.' This alone can animate me aright to the discharge of my humble part in pushing forward the blessed work. -I must discard your doctrine, then, my friend (fancifully and poetically as you have set it forthh, as an unsound one; as not in harmony either with the 'facts of history, or the statements of Scripture, or with the exquisite machinery and munificent arrangements of the nat. ural world ; in a 'word, as derogating fi-om the wis-. 'dom and goodness of God. C. I see not that. .On the contrary, this' very distribution of parts and duties, among the different worlds of the Universe, whereby every star hath alike its prescribed path in space, and its prescribed system of discipline, differing from those of every other ; such a picture as this seems to me far more in keeping with our ideas of the divine perfections, and presents a far more varied, grand, and- exciting whole, for our contemplation, than yours of a monoto- nous perfection, alike toiled after, and alike consum- mated, in all. . A. Well, all such speculations, perhaps, ought to CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 171 be frowned upon, as unbecoming and presumptuous in us poor mortals.. Still, if our imaginations will wander, at times, in such paths, I can't help think- ing my picture a far more delightful one than yours. Surely, the thought of a universe, in which good is everywhere finally triumphant, with -no solitary sin or sorrow lurking in a single star thereof, is more grateful, more worthy of our Father in heaven, than this ceaseless, terrible conflict between good. and evil, that you would thus seek to perpetuate. Be- sides, if this earth be the primary school you speak of; what right have you to assufie that its discipline has already been perfected; that. there will be no grander developments of character in it than the world has yet witnessed; no more profound discoveries -in moral and natural science, no new revelations of his will vouchsafed by God ? In. other words, that the future is to be a mere fac simile of the past'? I say, that- such a remark is mere gratuitous assertion. I don't believe it. I believe that there are manifold precious secrets yet to be found out by human wits, and that they are to work mighty influences on hu- man character and destiny; that these same schol-. ars are to have a far better chance than ever before ; that their numbers are to be continually augmented; .that the course of lessons is to be continually en- larged and amended ; that the comforts and conven- iences of the pupils are to be more and more stu- died ; that alike the means and ends of education I' 1 h 4' I I: /7 ii" 4 I page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] *1 m 172 CLOUDS -AND SUNSHINE'. are to be better understood-; that the cannon and the bayonet are to give way to the sweet constraints of reason and of love ; yes, that brotherly love is to prevail at last in the whole human family.. I repeat it, no vision less bright than this satisfies me ; for no issues less glorious, was this exquisite mechanism 'of earth, were these marvellous faculties. of man de- signed-. 0. And I say again, in reply, that I do not bei lieve that vision will ever be realized here ; and that in attempting to realize it, we are -striving against God's own decrees ; against the very means where- by our wits are trained, our virtues formed. The whole machinery of life, is it not based on those very evils that you would thus vainly seek to ban- ish ? What becomes of all the professions and crafts of men, of .all the triumphs of genius, all the blessed charities about us, in this ideal scene, which you so insist upon? But why needlessly illustrate a thought so obvious ? It seems to me as clear' as sunlight that this pseudo-perfection of yours, is but another Paine for destruction ; for taking all its form, color, relish from existence;- for knocking out of' the play all its meaning and moral. No, no, it may not-be ; that day may never dawn on earth, when sin and sorrow will not abound ; when chil- dren will not be brought forth in pain ; when the whole pilgrimage from cradle to grave will not be beset with perils. Such is the divine ,programme ; t I CLOUDS ANL SUNSHINE. 173 why madly see to change it ? Why run away from that very c nilict that calls forth 'our best affec- tions, and furnishes us with our brightest thoughts ? Why seek to bring about a state of things, wherein the poet would have no more elegies to chant, the preacher no mor warnings to sound ; wherein all the finest, most thri ling passages of the drama would be left out ? 'It is altogether unreasonable.. As if we could have, qr appreciate the calin wisdom of the judge, without ti e previous wranglings and sophisms of the advocates ! Banish the waylaying, murder- ing thieves, and what becomes of the blessed part of the good Samaritan? Blot out the blasphemous, crucifying Jews, and where is the meek and suffer- ing Saviour ? How monstrous, then, to seek to sever what God has indissolubly linked on earth! As well talk of leaving out the minor keys from the music of life, as of leaving out its evils and suffer- ings from huma experience. Just as surely as our ears would be cl yed and wearied with the never- ending allegros, in the one case, so would our hearts sicken, our souls droop and pine, for want of nourish- ment in the othe. A. Plausible, but most dangerous doctrine ; pal- atable enough, c rtainly, to the sluggard and the criminal.; easily twisted to their evil purposes ; but not one, that the philanthropist can ever be recon- ciled to. Yes, ny friend, this view o-f life seems to me, alike narrow-minded and presumptuous. What 51 t 55 1 5' -5 page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] 174 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. right have you to take for granted, as you do, that when this blessed consummation, this reign of peace and good-will, whi~~li both reason and scripture set before us, is reached at last, then forsooth, the world will not be worth living in; that there can be no entertainment, instruction, relish in life, without the perpetual presence of evil? Is there no such thing, then, as skill in art, or progress in science, but what is necessarily based on bodily or mental infirmities? Can there be no love, but that which binds up wounds? Are the secrets of nature, the domains of thought so easily e4austed'! Will there 15e no new varieties of beaut\Y, no new fields of inquiry, where all are alike students and brethren, to keep up the charm of existence, and to stimulate the wits of men? Nay, will tiiere not be loftier themes than ever, for the poet's lyre, the philosopher's homily? To doubt it, seems to me to call in question the re- sources of God's wisdom and goodness. B. I cati't agree with you. I can only say again, what I have so often repeated, that I do not believe the materials are.. to be found on earth, either for a natural or moral paradise. Every boy, of course, dreams of it in his turn.; but every thought- ful man must reject it as utterly impracticable. Yes, this same world-wide diffusftn of plenty, peace, and good will, that you are so forbi of dwelling upon, would be the very worst thing fo~ us, could we get it; the most unpalatable and unprofitable arrange- 1' CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 175 me1nt for humanity. The point seems to me too clear for argument. As certainly as the inequali- ties in the face of nature are necessary to give beauty and interest to the landscape, so are the ine- qualities of human condition essential to all enjoy- ment and instruction. As certainly as the coming together of the sour and sweet gives its flavor to the fruit, so the perpetual collision of good and evil, of pain and pleasure, constitutes the very relish of existence. The idea of altering this divine arrange- ment, of banishing these eternal contrasts, seems little less th~r~ blasphemous. No; I am for taking the world as God made it; for swallowing the draught as the great Physician hath mixed it. I ask no emancipation from the temptations or the cas- ualties of life. Let me fight the good, old-fashioned fight appointed unto Adam, and all his children. Let me fairly earn and receive my stripes or laurels, according to my conduct. Let me struggle as I best may, with the motley crowd about me; not idly at- tempting to convert it into an orderly procession of philosophers, but taking it as I find it; the same par ti-col~red gathering of peers and paupers, of saints and sinners, that it has been from the begin-~ ning; the same old crowd that homer sang to, that Raffaelle piiinted from, that Shakspeare studied; and life itself, the same diVinely prepared compound of good and evil, of sweet and bitter, of jest and earnest, that it always was, and will be through all ~1 page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] ~'1 I I 7e Pine. Yes. 1'IW fricmL thO 11101W' 1 think of this ~ogrsAoctriue 01 VOUPS. t he 11101W' wild aIl(l vis- '~onarv does d ~PP~"~ Progress old WOL'l(l to world. fro~ni the tasks and discipline of this life to those of a hi her sphere of action. and so on, on, till the mind is swallowed Up in the abyss of the infi- nite ; such a progress as this. (luniM as I apprehend ~t. N~et seems to me a tar more philosophical and ani- mating thought.. than yours. of solving the problem of perfection here on earth. or in any' other single world of the universe and, as I said before\ pro- sents a far more sublime and varied whole for our contemplation. It is not fair. I know. to argue from physical to thin~ things s spiritual ; and vet, what is there in this same universe, from the revolving planet down to the passing shower. that suggests the progress y~u speak of? Oni the contrary. is it not all circular movement; a return to the place of beginning; n giving up of the thing taken; death erthrowing life, life springing up out of death; and this as well in the career of the proudest empire, as same circles, great and small, he ever thus comple- ted. as in the past 2 Will it not be so? Yes,, the stateliest metrcpcdis of earth, to-day. must go down t~ the same du~'rv death as have all that have gone 4, P3Lre it: must return to that wilderness state from which it came. and in its tum. furnish the stone and the timber ~ut of which future builders are to rear (~IA)UJTh ANI) ~1JN8IIINE. 177 future cities; and human luxury, and corruption, and war, and wretchedness, must be, as they have ever been, (iod's own selected agents for the carry- ing out of the decree. Who can doubt it ~ Call this a dreary round, a pitiful game of see-saw, if you will; but to me it seems the beautiful fulfill- ment of the very mission that the Creator designed for earth. *A. I cannot accept this interpretation of the matter; nor do I think the records of history jus- tify any such assumption. Nay, they tell quite the opposite story to me. A~e there not cities on earth this hour, that have celebrated their thousandth birth-day; and which, so far from manifesting any symptoms of corruption or decay, are growing arid thriving continually? II have no idea, myself that either London, or Paris, or New York will ever die that death you speak of; that they will ever be lodgings for wild beasts, but will continue unto the end, the same centres of. trade, the same head-quar- ters of art and science that they now are. I reject, altogether, your version, my friend. Dr~ss it up in. what gay robes you will, plead for it as persuasively as you may, it yet seems to me unsound, sophistical, nay, heathenish. It may minister unto a morbid fancy, but it discourages all healthful exertion. I have no patience with it; this perpetual holding up of the past as the model, this want of faith in the present, this unwillingness to admit what appears to I I page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] iL~~s ha~~ c a(k ~\~vtvt ih~' ~nk!K ~nd n~4 'prcb~ern v~'g. iihc I~"m c~f p{Vj{\ jj~'1~, \~iiCh~ I '~~c&k ~'rU on rth~' si~d VIC4 tC~ 'he (4('T~aIh ~'~ibin~ hvlrn~ir~ cP~trr~. -# w ( Nc'i s~ 'not i~ ~& . ~ 'd a ~C~Y a~poirtte~i 'r~h~n. A n~ 'v~ ir~ ~hc~'iX~ t'h ~c~~s~a'nd {~'dd ~'O1'Oi;i hon 6f ~h~i t pTh ~n. 11 ~inv thc~ h~ss di~iv~e. ~ ~ ~ ~ r~ictive to ~s 7 IP~$OThiflC ~ vohi'S c a~i&~s 't~ i jn I tA~ vcT\ bz!i~ of heaven. anc~ w~t~ thc s4s~rs ~Yr ~. 1$ Ihe ~ wipe. then er~ '~cs~ ~ee~bTh bc n~s~c c~r fort t~'s ~~~he:'oe trepc~s ~:'orr. the i~rec ~vi~s~ ! Is ~ h1\ o ~~Tanm.r~ am~' tt'e less c~a~rrr.bec~use F" h~thiuz Pome=rure1e~ a~e~ t~im~c )c~es tt.~e t'c~ s Ics~s~n1 stin~utat 1k15~ TrOUL.Cj t~rait LIC £~CJt.C Zi~ vounz ItuaQuu~ztor1. ~rT tP~ it~ss L f'~'b4'~iT. 14?W. ~ CaUS( 1~iTh~ WC~t 511CV111t, TD~f~iWT ThW~L T2 ~ au( mtf.Y~'QStflic~ Pe~.u~ o: ;lilf V~y'W I~L;7'v IA I ~4.- 2~et1iQ7~ lflt( 0111 m'eat wiiuit~ IhU gi ~ L~ Iii ~JI2.I4r % I7 hif4tOry, ~ ~i~'rii fiar~~ to the thf~ (F"i~th ' ) A ,,d, by the ~iiee ru he, Will th~ 'ath~i ~'a1 fl7~ai; 4 DOW ~4hll1WY'Irag in the quarry, with a~1 its rnarb ~ 4ailit$ nnel arigel~, any thE~ less charm and ir~3tfl~f;t 111080 WhO WJII L{~ wmd~rin~ ~,bO1It 1 t~ ai~Ie3, ari'~ ts. a; CK~ F4ttUly in g i t~ mon uir~cn / r ~ ~ f~etu'~4 i~ playing that 8~i~fh(~ p~rt fr ~ to-day 3 Or ~Lt'0 tli~ pIE 8111'05 W~ r(~43(~JVt~, tb~ 1~~or~s we from St. J~ctcr's, any the h~s~ 1~able, ~ ~ kw)w titiat it uiu~t critmbl(~ tO (IU3t jfl it~S torY;- m~i3t go through the same mill yhat tne CdOS~'1m ha~ before it, and become a quarry for f~it~re buiider3 to ~plunder materials from 3 Does not the very fict~ that time, and neglect, and yi~1~n~~ are to brm~ about this same destruction, make it all the rAir~ beautiful and dear to us 3 The idea of it~ ~'~main~ ing safe and fresh, always, in mad emulation of me works of nature, is it not intolerable :o u~ ~ W ;uM not future ages turn away from it. a~ an. ~n~er:i~ent nuisance, that had no business in a. ~±i ii~ And why should not the same reascr~ig a.~pq ~c v nation 3 Why should not oar own. lan.4: become m~ wilderness again, and fade away trcm. im~i4n~ how- ledge, and again be brQu2lit to li~2~ 07 tJ.OtIICr Columbus? Such an idea is t~ir less r~piiisPr~ ~ unnatural than yours~ of ~ ss~aUy ~r~g~t ss tO a~ iou- summation frota ~v hich the~re is ~ be ~io :cciuie~ ~ -L ~ ~f) r~iiUW meridian sph'udor which. m.~ "~ ~ a mcrt dr~tu~that ~ be ~eaii~ed t:i ~ I page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] I 180 CLOUDS AND 'SUNSHIINE. like ours, the very laws of' whose being are ceaseless change and conflict. No, no; .a world without its sorrows and its ruins, what charm could it have for student or traveler'? A history, that had no bloody wars and tottering thrones to tell of, no crimes and vices in it, how soon would it weary and repel the reader ! And why ? Because it would not be the history of man;. of man as he was in the firstrage, as he will be, in the last age of earth. How idle to question, how wild to seek to change these things ! I say again, then, call. this a dreary round, if -you will;- to me it is none the less a divine drama ; nay, I take comfort, I rejoice in the thought, that the ~ scenes and characters of this drama, will remain the same, through all time ; to feel that I am heaving * the same sighs; shedding the same tears, struggling * ~ with the same doubts, obstacles, temptation, as did my brethren of the patriarchal ages ; just a~s much as I am looking up at the same stars, am surrounded by the. same flowers, listening to the music of the same brooks. A. Well, well, my friend, we shall never agree' on this point. You cling to your idea, certainly, with commendable firmness, and illustrate it, with char- acteristic copiousness. None the less, however, must I fight against it. Especially do .I deny the force of your last illustration. I deny that we men of to-day, are looking up at the same stars, .are con- lined 'to the same scanty range of flowers or fruits, 1~ CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 181 that the patriarchs were. I say, there are far more stars in Our heavens, and that we know far more about them; that we have far more copi- ous and dainty fare, both for mind- and bodyr, than the men of old had.; that the brook's music hath far more meaning in it than ever before ; that the brook itself is playing a nobler part than ever ; that its waters are less often stained with blood ; that all the brooks and rivers of earth have far more beauty and significance, than ever ; that they are not, as of yore, mere boundaries of hostile kingdoms, and scenes of conflict, but are more and more becoming peace- makers, and blessed ministers unto human industry ; that the landscapes of earth have more amenity, more of the smiling labors of peace in them, than ever ; nay, that the prospect from every mountain-top, bears witness to the glorious progress-doctrine that 'I preach, and shall persist in preaching, my friend, in spite of all that you have urged. I say again, the facts of history are all on that side of the question. Every day's reading and observation strengthen me in this belief. I have already dwelt on this point, in talking with brother B., and must not repeat myself. I believe then, most fervently, in the reality of that progress. I believe that there are far more acres, and brains, under cultivation, to-day, than the world ever knew before ; more hearts alive to truth, more rational faith, more ardent piety C. Ah, no, no' ;I can't agree with you there. It I '1 I page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 183 seems to me, that there was a fervor about the piety Qf antiquity, that we have quite lost, in our day; a hearty, earnest communion with God, to which our worship is tame and frigid; a simple, child-like faith, for the loss of which, we are poorly compensated by all our pompous rituals, all our elaborate treatises on Natural Theology. A. I don't think so. I say, on the contrary, that we are far nearer God than ever we were. I cannot listen to the doctrine, that science tends to withdraw man from his Maker. He that knows best the works of God, sees best the friend and father in them. The most learned philosophers have ever been the most filial and devoted worshippers. If here and there a rebellious nature is found, perverting the lessons of the - great volume, thank heaven, they are rare ex- ceptions. And how can it be otherwise? Piety and knowledge must, from the very nature of things, sus-. tam and elevate each other. As the learning of the world increases, so must the intensity and fervor of its faith increase; I quarrel not with the faith of the patriarchs; it was a blessed thing, in its day, and in entire accordance with their scanty knowledge of the frame of things about them; but oh, compare it not with the enlightened, the sublime faith of a Newton. And this latter kind of faith it is, that I maintain is continually increasing in the world, with all other desirable things, in the ever onward march of mind. Progress, progress, progress; yes, my 182 'ii 193 friend, I must cling fast to the glorious thought. I bQlieve in the ultimate redemption of the race from sin anti ignorance. I believe the day will yet dawn, when the whole earth will bear witness to the same blessed changes, the same emancipation from idolatry and bloodshed, that the great poet so eloquently sets forth, as having taken place on the borders of his own loved lake. You may remember the passage. He is pointing, as he speaks, to a placid cove, shut in by hills, and illuminated by a magnificent sunset, which he has just been describing. "Once, while the name, Jehovah, was a sound Within the circuit of this sea-girt isle Unheard, the savage nations bowed the head To gods delighting in remorseless deeds; Gods which themselves had fashioned, to promote Ill purposes, and flatter foul desires. Then, in the bosom of yon mountain~cove, To those inventions of corrupted man Mysterious rites were solemnized; and there, Amid impending rocks and gloomy woods, Of those terrific idols sore4 received Such dismal service, that the loudest voice Of the swoln cataracts (which now are heard Soft murmuring) kvas too weak to overcome, Though aided by wild winds, the groans and shrieks Of human victims, offered up to appease Or to propitiate. And, if living eyes had visionary faculties to see The thing that hath been as the thing that is, Aghast might we behold this crystal Mere Bedimmed with smoke, in wreaths voluminous, 41 page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. Flung from the body of devouring fires, To Taranis erected on the heights By priestly hands, for sacrifice performed Exultingly, in view of open day And full assemblage of a barbarous host; Or to Andates, female Power! who gave (For so they fancied) glorious victory. A few rude monuments of mountain-stone Survive; all else is swept away. How bright The appearance~ of things! From such, how changed The existing worship; and with those compared, The worshippers how innocent and blest! So wide the difference, a willing mind Might almost think, at this affecting hour, That paradise, the lost abode of man, Was raised again; and to a happy few, In its original beauty, here restored." And is not this same blessed chang~~, my friend, yet to be the destiny of earth? I believe it. I believe that Civilization and Christianity are to play no less a part than this; are, in God's good time, so to mould and temper our passions, and develop our powers, that this same paradisewill be raised again, and re- stored, not to~ the happy few, but to the whole family of man. C. Never, never; 'tis 'the enthusiast's dream, that you describe, not God's future. But suppose it realized; suppose this ~blessed consummation to be reacl~ed, and all the wars, famines, and pestilences, all the follies,, sins, and sorrows of earth banished; what then? How long, my dear friend, do you sup- pose this delightful state of things would last ?- 184 ''1 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 185 Where would it finally lead us? How many gene- rations would it take to bring us to the inevitable upshot of it all, an overstocked planet? Yes, a world groaning under a load of life, that it could no longer carry; crowded with beings, whose mental as well as physical wants it could nQt supply? He would be a bold calculator, to be sure, who would un- dertake to furnish dates and figures, in reply to these questions; but, my friend, what child cannot see that such a catastrophe would be the necessary result of that unrestrained prosperity, that world- wide reign of peace and good will to which you look forward? You smile, I see, at the idea of &ertask- ing the productive power of the earth, and of ex- hausting its sources of knowledge; and yet, who knows but what we should have reached that very result this very hour, had the past been what you would make the future? Who knows whether there would have been an acre of wild land left for the cultivator, a solitary new enterprise to stimulate the capitalist or the philanthropist, a single new field of knowledge for the student? At any rate, this would be the final result of such a state of things. Where then would this vision of yours be? How gladly, then, would you hail the return of those very evils that you are so intent on banishing, as blessed min- isters sent to relieve the earth from its frightfu4 burden! Are not, then, these same crimes and cas- ualties and diseases of the world an indispensable I 1 'I page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186& CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. part of the divine economy? I repeat it; had men all lived out their threescore and ten years from the beginning, ahd women all been fruitful ; had there been no undeveloped faculties, no wasted hours, no neglected enterprises, no lost arts, no follies, vices, wars in the world, no relapse of nations into barba- rism, and of cities into wildernesses, is it not alto- gethe r likely that there would have been a most comfortable crowd of us on earth, this vcry moment, clamoring for food and employment, I had almost said for very standing room? Would we not have reached a crisis, the only relief for which would be that same throat-cutting, pestilence, and untimely death, that we so idly seek to extirpate from the world? Would we p&t be enduring at last, and in one hideous mass, tse very calamities that the race has been receiving piece-meal, as we find them scattered over the different ages and nations of earth? Would not this be the issue of this same Visionary paradise of yours? I think so. A. Not at all, not at all. On the contrary, had men played their parts in the way you describe, I believe that earth would have presented, today, a spectacle as much more lovely and interesting than the one we see, as that surpasses what~it was when it came wild from the. hands of God. There would have been some precious things missing from the picTure, that we now have, certainly; many rare works of art, commemorative of past trials and sor- CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 187 rows; many monuments to goodness, many piles dedicatedd to charitable uses there would, of course, have been no occasion for, no significance in these things, in a world where all were alike good and happy; but who can doubt that there would have been glorious substitutes for them; temples reared to Faith, and Science, and Industry; ten thousand additions to our flowers and fruits, to all the pro- ducts of intelligent culture, in every walk of art: ten thousand new manifestations of beauty and of truth, in every department of knowledge. Your pic ture seems to me as untrue as it is horrible. The idea that any such catastrophe as you speak of, should be the result of an universal obedience to the Creator's laws, what a reflection is it on that Crea- tor's goodness! How unreasonable, too, for you to insist as you do on sin and sorrow as divine ordi- nances, as indispensable parts of God's government! I have no patience with a doctrine that may be so readily perverted as this; that endorses and sanc- tions wickedness; that turns every vagabond and ruffian into an agent of the Almighty, an essential feature in the discipline of life. I do not believe that God thus seeks to perpetuate evil. Every transgression, every abuse of our freedom is offen- sive in his eyes, and must be paid for in full, here or hereafter. He hath no pleasure either in the sin or the suffering. lIe would infinitely prefer that all his children, this hour, all over the universe, were I I page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] 1 188 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. walking in the paths of wisdom, and reaping its blessed fruits. To suppose that God would abandon us to starvation and wretchedness, in the way you speak of; that he hath made no niore generous pro- vision than that for his earthly- tenants, and that this same blessed consummation which they had reached at last, would soon compass its own destruc- tion, how monstrous, how blasphemous a notion is it ? .He would be a bold arithmetician, as you said, who would presume to fix a date for any such ca- lamity, or to set down in figures the productive pow- er of a planet like ours. To count, weigh, or meas- u-e the returns it gives, even now, to our scanty and 11 methodical labor, would be no light undertaking ; but what imagination can conceive of the extent or variety of the crops that would respond to a world- wide and scientific culture? And is there not a cor- responding munificence in God's provision for our intellectual wants ? How romantic to suppose that we can so easily exploreand exhaust -the treasures of truth, all around us ; that the charm and stimulus of novelty could ever be wanting ; that there would not be new beauties continually springing up for the poet to celebrate, new discoveries continually reward- ing the toils of 'the philosopher ! But suppose we did know (as in God's good time, we will,) precisely the number of human beings that the earth could comfortably sustain, when tasked to its utmost capa- city, where would be the difficulty ; what the neces- CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 189 .sity for any such horrible scenes as you describe ? Would not the good sense of mankind accommodate itself to the limits thus ascertained? In the univer- sal temperance, loyalty, wisdom, that would prevail, would there be any danger of transgressing them ? C. And do you really, my friend, think the day will ever- come, when the passions will be thus tho- roughly subjugated ; when wisdom will thus every- where preside, alike over all the great and small things of life ? If so, indeed, why then of course this same paradise of yours will be reached, and kept, safe and bright and beautiful, for aught I see, through all eternity. But I repeat it, I see nothing to justify any such expectations, either in the his- tory of the past, or the phenomena of the present, I see no preparations making in my own inner man, or around me, for any such thorough revolution in -the planet ; nor do I see either the physical or moral materials adequate to produce it. I cannot .look forward, therefore, to any such radical changes in the feelings, experiences, annals, and dictionaries of the world. On the contrary, I believe that the old passions will be just. as vigorous, and .the old .song-books, story-books, play-books that tell about them, will be just as fresh and popular in the last year of earth as they are 'to-day ; that Scripture and history and reason will be teaching precisely the same lessons, sounding the same warnings, then as now ; in a word, that human nature was not design- I I I '1 'I 4" page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] 190 CLOUDS AND SUNSHiNE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINEX 191 ed for, could not endure that bright and beautiful scene you so love to linger on, any more than these poor, easily fatigued senses of ours could endure the glare and noise of an uninterrupted day. A. Well, well, we can't agree, I see. None the less, my friend, must I cling to the blessed thought, far more animating and inspiring as it is; far more likely to make heroes and philanthropists, than that perpetual preponderance of evil, that endless series of sins and sorrows, that you so insist upon! C. But what says brother B.? He certainly don't look as if he saw any very brilliant prospects ahead, in either world. How is it, my friend 3 Do you still hold fast to your old views, or has friend A.'s eloquence here, somewhat shaken your skepti- cism? B. Oh, I've nothing to say for myself, more than I have already said. There is an individual, to be sure, could we only get at him, wh6 might favor us with some really valuable facts and prophecies upon these points. C. Andwhomayhebe? i~. The man in the moon. He, of course, has watched all that has been going on here below, from the commencement; ~and I dare say, has kept most copious and accurate records thereof. If we only had power, now, to send for persons and papers, he might shed a deal of comfortable light on these vexed questions. 4 C A. Sarcastic and skeptical as evcr, I see. B. Yes, I am. I own it. I cannot get up any faith, either in your own fancy-future of this world, or in brother C.'s picture of endless progress in the worlds to come. Both seem to me alike visionary, alike unsatisfactory. I certainly agree with him, however, in looking forward to none of these radical changes that you do, in human affairs. I believe that human life will continue to be the same old song in the grass it now is, while that grass continues to grow. So long as God condescends to keep this sorry ball in motion, so long will the children of men keep up the same old, sorry game on it, as ever. I can't help thinking so. Why these things are thus decreed, why God permits all these puzzles, sins, and sorrows, how long they are to last, what is ,to be the upshot of it all, these are topics, as I said before, about which we have been fretting, chatter- Ang, scolding, shedding ink and blood without meas- ure, ever since language was first organized; and yet, what comfortable knowledge have we about them to-day, any more than when the sun of the first day went down? At least, soit seems to me. Oth- ers may be fortunate enough to rea4 in God's book of nature, or in what they are pleased to call reve- lation, or in historic records, satisfactory answers to all these questions ; to me, all is doubt and perplex- ity. Meanwhile, with brother C., I see no indica- tions of any change of programme. I see no pre- I ~1 190 .191 page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] i K 192 CLOUDS AND ~UN~HINE. operations making, moral or physical, for these same ~aradisaical developments of yours. 1. see schemers and dreamers enough, to be sure, as of old, who are perpetually promising all manner of good things and good times coming, and embarking in all sorts of visionary experiments, to that end; but 1 cannot see any thing in them, or their schemes, which should rescue them from the same thorough failure, extinc- tion, and oblivion, that have uniformly befallen their predecessors. Of course,. therefore, I am far from being on the qui vive for their predicted revolutions. I certainly do not anticipate, at least in m? day, any general clubbing of lands, goods, and coins, the world over; nor do I see any symptoms ahead, &f a world-wide movement, having .for its object the prompt conversion of the globe into a fascinating combination of orchard, flower, and kitchen-garden, with every laborer therein a capitalist, every capi- talist a laborer, and every mother's son of us re- ceivin.g daily his owen fair share of fruits, and bou- quets, and garden-sauce. Nor do I see any very imminent danger of the extinction of the gains of the translators and interpreters of earth, from the universal adoption of one common language; or any immediate prospect of having one current hand for all our letters of love or of business, or one uniform currency for the cash-books and ledgers of both hem- ispher~s. On the contrary, I can't help feeling that there will be full as much bad English uttered by 4rj .1 I CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 193 Frenchmen, and worse French growled forth by Englishmen, in the far future, as to-day; full as great a variety in the show-cards of the\ then flour- ishing writing masters; full as great opportunities for swindling, among the then extant exchange- brdkers. Nor do I believe there is to be any such immediate and uniform good health, the globe over, as will render obsolete the fees of doctors, or the manifestos of quacks; any such all-prevailing piety and love of justice, as will vacate the mission of the clergyman, or the vocation of the judge; or that the schoolmaster, however wide a circuit he may make, whatever new means of education he may devise, will very speedily, or indeed ever, make any perm~- nent impression upon the stupidity, indolence, and self-indulgent propensities of the massed ; but that they will always be the same creatures of appetite and impulse, the same sheep following after their leaders, that all history proclaims them. The idea that education will alter these things, ~ivill ever root out the native perverseness of oi~r hearts, or overcome the essential inequalities of our minds, how unreasonable, how opposed to all experience is it !- We may wish, and theorize, and plan, to the contrary, till doomsday; but there are the naked facta, old as Adam, that defy alike explanation and alteration. As if any conceivable method or amount of culture could have turned Shakspeare's next door neighbor into a ~hakspeare! Monstrous supposition! I do I, *1 I I; page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 CLOUDS AND SUNShINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 195 not believe, then, in the triumphal career of the schoolmaster, victorious over all the evils and follies of men. I do not believe that all the children of the next, or any coming generation, are to be little Bate- ~qfl~~; but that their fascinating inte and sprightliness will be just as much exceptions to~ the rule, and that performances like theirs, will be just as profitable to ihanagcrs,.ages hence as now. I do not 'believe either, in any forthcoming revolution in their moral na tures ; but that they will continue to manifest the same old4hshioned frowardness; anti turbulence, and, disposition to overload their young stomachs, the same proclivity to naughty words and actions, as ever. Still less do I believe that the pains and perils of childbirth are to be evaded; or that "the piping cry of lips,. that brook no pain and small suspense," is no longer to be heard on earth; but, in its stead, the merry notes of babes, that will come singing and dancing into a world, all light and gladness. And so with the adults. It is a pretty idea, certainly, that of the sun shining on a world- wide family of brethren and sisters, all alike well- formed, well-fed, well-dressed, and well-behaved; all alike good talkers, sound reasoners, faithful doers; but I would ask, not in what kingdom, but in what township of earth, are there any bona fide prepara.- tions making, for any such consummation? Where- ever I go, I ~ee the same old-fashioned infirmities and troubles, the same inequalities of' condition and endowments, the same preponderance of bad gram- mar, and bad logic; of selfishness and sensuality; the same imperfect sympathies, and unreasonable antipathies, and absurd jealousies and feuds, the same vices and crimes, that have formed three-quar- ters df the histories of all nations and parishes, from the beginning. A. You have no faith whatever, then, in any sub.- stantial improvements in the morals or manners of the world; any real progress in its knowledge or religion? B. Not much. I believe with brother C., that we have already, pretty much sounded the depths and scaled the heights within which all human effort is doomed to vibrate. I dare say there are a few scientific truths to be found out, yet; a few inven- tions in store for us, that are to be of more or less service to humanity. I have no doubt, either, that we are going to have pretty stirring times on earth for some years ahead; that there are to be a good many miles of wires stretched and rails laid; a large and growing family of locomotives and steamers, to run our errands; in short, a great and unreasonable expansion of business, throughout the world; to be followed by as unreasonable a panic, and revulsion, and absurd fall of prices, and 'extinction of fancy stocks. No doubt there are, still, a few latent trea- sures, in all the kingdoms of nature; a few stray herbs, and fruits, and minerals, that the eye of sci- I 194 195 page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] 196 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. ence has not yet lighted on. They will doubtless come along, in God's good time, with the customary perils and sacrifices on the part of their discoverers. will be duly christened and sent forth into the world with the usual trumpet-flourish, as wonder-workers and revolutionizers ; will be received with the same old-fashioned sneers and shrugs, on the one hand, the same gaping credulity, on the other ; and so- fall in time to their proper level, of greater or less utility or harm to the race. Whose experience does not suffciently enlighten hiin on these points ? You and I, my friend, are old enough to remember when the Tomato first left its native woods, and made its debutin the civilized world. What a cold shoulder people gave it, at first ; what an absurd reaction there was in its favor, afterwards ! For weeks, the papers were full of .it. Its praises were chanted without measure, as the great boon of humanity, God's last, best gift to his children; at once, meat and sauce, fruit and vegetable, tonic and cathartic. Nothing was heard of; in all circles, but Tomato soups, and salads, and catsups, and tarts, and pud- }ings, and pills, and powders. It even gave its name to clubs and benevolent associations and packet-ships. One enthusiast, you may remember, our friend . (like yourself, by the way, an ardent admirer of Wordsworth,) even went so far as to commence an epic poem, in its honor. But it sank, at last, to its true position, as a piquant addition to, and not a re- CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 197 volutionizer of, our kitchens. Is not this the history of every new pill that heaves in sight, every new mineral spring, either of God's making, or of man's ? None ar6 positively worthless ; none do more than a, thousandth part of the work assigned to them, by the inventor or discoverer. And so with the patent contrivances and quack remedies of all sorts and ages, for the social and moral disorders of humanity;- these fanciful organizations of society, these ever-shift- ing groups of laborers, and ceaseless interchanges of tasks, whereby every man is to be, at once, master and servant, judge and crier, sexton and pastor, cap-. tain and cabin-boy ; these laws for the immediate extirpation of vice ; these periodical distributions of property, that dreamers and demagogues have been crying up, from time immemorial, as grand panaceas for all the ailments of the body politic: no man will deny, that there are some few grains of wisdom and goodness, mixed up with all the folly and madness of their projectors; that there may be peculiar cases, and local affections, wherein even Agrarianism and Socialism might be of service;' but the idea of hold- ing them up to the world, as the great medicines of humanity, the miracle-workers, that are to revolu- ticonize alike the hearts of men, and the face of nature, seems to me too thoroughly childish to waste one' s breath upon.1 Still, I doubt not that there will always be, as' now, quacks and visionaries enough to cry them up, and try to force them down the throats I I' I: I F I V. page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. of their brethren. Meanwhile, the old chronic com- plaints of the race will subsist in full force, the old passions retain their supremacy, and life itself re- main the same sad, strange drama, with the same motley performers, as ever. I say again, then, with brother C., that I cannot see any of the preliminary movements towards this paradisaical consummatiQn of yours. It looks to me as if the old' arrangements, the old contrasts of good and evil, sweet and bitter, high and low, fat and lean, wise and simple, were going to last, as long as night and day last; and one half of the world Thontinue to live as ever, by minis- tering, not merely to the necessities, infirmities, and innocent desires, but to the caprices, vices, crimes of the other half. I do not believe that we shall ever outgrow these arrangements-that with all our pro- gress, we shall ever outrun the constable; or that Jack Ketch will retire from business, any sooner than Jack Frost. I can't help feeling as if Counter- feit Detectors were to form a part of the literature of every coming generation; and as if there would al- ways be a fair market, not only for false teeth and wigs, but for Anglesey legs, and pasteboard noses; a fair' opening for chir~podists of talent, even unto the closing scene. I believe, too, that the balls of the pawnbroker will be found suspended, in the streets of the last metropolis of earth, and that his windows, with their wiedley of curious contents, will be, then as now, the same fit emblems ~f many-color~ A -rip' -.~m ~m CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 199 ed life. I believe that the nettle and the flower, the clown and th~j~hilosopher, the hero and the hog- thief; the beauty an~ the fright, will continue to jostle against each others as they have jostled, ever since the centripetal and centrifugal forces began to act. Call me croaker, if you will; I still can't help think- ing that the last generation of earth will have full as many small and great vices, and oversights, and shortcomings in it, as our own; as many unreturned umbrellas, unsettled bills, uncalled-for dividends, robbed orchards, stolen kisses, runaway matches, fraudulently obtained signatures, feloniously exchan- ged hats; that there will be quite as much Punic faith shown towards its tailors, as much turbulence ~nd villainy in its hack-drivers, as much struggling and scuffling for the choice dishes, in the hotels o? its watering-places. So far from looking fo rward to the balmy airs, sweet flowers, and pleasant music, of this same Paradise of yours, I can't help feeling that the same old eyesores and discords of earth will ever prevail, as now; and that the noses of the long gen- erations to come will have the same vile smells to encounter, as our own; and that the same neglect, filth, and corruption, will be at the bottom of them. I have no faith, I confess, in any thorough o~ lasting victories over nature, or ourselves. I do not believe that ~S1aharct can ever become that smiling garden, dotted with fruit-trees, and enlivened with phalan- eteries, that some enthusiasts predict. Where are I; 'Iii / 'I *1 page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 CLOUDS AND SUNShINE. the faith, and patience, and skill, and guano, to come from, that are to work such changes? It is easy enough to sit in our arm-chairs, and talk down all the nuisances, drain all the marshes, subdue all the stubborn soils, soften all the harsh climates of earth, blot out all the Dismal Swamps and Dead Seas, and: Hard- Scrabble hills,' and Break-Neck hollows from the face of nature; all the Rotten-Rows, and St. Gileses, and Five Points, from our cities; but what man of sense believes in the practicability of these things? God has withheld the materials, both with- in us and around us. There is neither faith nor courage enough in the moral, manure or sunshine enough in the natural world, for any such revolu- tion. As well talk of extirpating all the blemishes and infirmities of the outer. man! Who really be- lieves that the day will ever come, when there will be no bad profiles, on earth, no lisping, stammering, hobbling, shuffling, squinting, face-making; no nasal twangs, no murders of royal or republican English? Who believes, either, that there will ever be a coin- plete extermination of the great brotherhood of rats, skunks, scorpions, spiders, mosquitoes, and other such nuisances? I am old fogie enough, my friend, I confess, to have little or no faith, either in the ex- tinction, or in any radical change in the proceedings of these creatures. I believe that the mosquitoes of a hundred centuries ahead, will be at their posts; will be found biting the youngsters of those days in 7~7~7TT~T~VThT1 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 201 the same old-fashioned way, and to the same old mu- sic as ever. I believe the sharks of the far future will go about in the same schools; will nip off the legs of their victims, in the same prompt, quiet mo- dus operandi that they now practice, without stop- ping to inquire whether said legs are attached to the bodies of pirates or of missionaries; and that the discipline in said schools of sharks will remain un- changed; the great leading idea of that discipline being, then as now, to keep as much as possible out of the way of the larger fish, and in the way of the smaller ones, during meal-times. I believe, too, that there will be quite as many land-sharks about; and that the same shark-like views and propensities will continue to be manifested alike in the business trans- actions of nations, and of individuals; that there will be as many absurd wars about trifles, as many bad treaties negotiated over good brandy, as many government frauds and frauds on governments, as the truth-telling historian of our own century will have to stain his page with. You may call it per- verse blindness on my part, but I really cannot de- tect any symptoms of o}~ solescence, myself, either in prize-fights or pou1try-r~ffles, in fi-fa's or fire-arms; nor do ii find any greater~ scarcity of quacks or pick- pockets, now than ever; or any reason to believe that we shall shortly seK no more elephants than what are already stuffed, and under glass. I cannot think~ either, that the lion is to be put out of the A I I I page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 203 way in this summary style, but that he will keep up his royal state for some time yet; if he be com- pelled to retire before the march of mind, and va- cate some of his kingdoms, will not time, and lux- ury, and war, be preparing new wildernesses for him, as of old? I believe it.* At any rate, I have no idea that he will ever so far forget his native ~ma- jesty, as to bow the neck to, and become the drudge of man. I have no faith whatever in any thorough or permanent subjugation, either of the wild beasts or wild lands of earth; but think, with brother 0., that there will always be ruins enough scattered about for artists to sketch from, deserts enough for winds to howl over. Still less2 do I believe that we are to bow the elements to our wills; that any con- trivances of art can rob the whirlwind of its terrors, or turn the thunder-storm into a pastime, or the earthquake into a pleasant excitement, or convert. the volcano into' a mere piece of pyrotechny. On the contrary, I believe that a gale at sea will be just as unwelcome a guest to all coming voyagers, as it was to Jason; that it will be the same trial to the temper of captains, the same severe test of the nerves and stomachs of passengers, as ever. And so with the fevers and pestilences of earth. What reasonable man believes that any resources of sci- ence, any energies of association, will ever be ade- quate to their expulsion? Not I, for one. I believe that Death will be setting more traps than ever for us, as the world waxes older; that there will be more obstinate diseases, with unpronounceable names, on his list, than ever; more Latin and Greek hiero- glyphics, round the jars of apothecaries; quite as many pseudo-consultations, and professional murders, and patients dying, while the doctors are bowing or squabbling outside; quite as much go~ut and rheuma- tism, among the buyers of Bibles and readers of Shakspeare, in A. ID. 10.000, as to-day. No, no; we shall never get the better of these monsters, or ferret them out of their hiding-places, or track them to their mysterious births, either in the loathsome haunts of men, or amid the rotting weeds and stag- nant waters of the wilderness;* but they will con- tinue to steal upon us, to torment and destroy us, and make lanes through our families, and snatch off our dear children by clusters. We may talk, and scheme, and found new systems, and erect new pro- fessorships, till doomsday; but as to dodging or get- ting round these things, who is wild enough to be- lieve it, any more than that we can escape from the. shrunk shanks, and dimmed eyes, and cracked voices of old age? I say again, then, and for the last time, I have no faith whatever in these glorious revolu- tions, this bright, and beautiful~ and world-wide Eden of yours. I believe in the old alternations of shine and shade; the old intermixture of frowns and smiles, alike in the face of nature, and in those of her children; the old vicissitudes that have consti- I ii V ii 202 203 page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. tuted human experience; now a season of plenty, now of scarcity; now a period of temperance and prudence in our pursuits and pleasures, now of wild speculation and excess; and their corresponding fruits of bankruptcy and ruin in the business world, of headaches, shame, and remorse in the social. I believe these same ups and downs will last, while moons wax and wane, tides ebb and flow. I believe it, just as ~much ~is I do that the future occupants of the planet will continue to have the same average number of inches in their stature, and of pounds' Weight in their bodies, and ounces' weight in their brains. I do not believe that any coming generation will ever celebrate the solution of your perfection- problem, any more than that they will pick posies and gather peaches on the summit of Mont Blanc; or behold a grove of nutmeg trees rising of its own free will, and in~ the quincunx form, on the shores of Nova Zembla; or gaze delightedly on a Home Circle of icebergs, formed round the equator. A. Well, well, fray friend, notwithstanding all your quips and sarcasms, I am not to be frightened away from my faith in this same perfection; no, nor to be seduced from it, or lulled into inglorious re- pose by all the plausible sophisms (for I can't help calling them so), of brother C. G. But don't misunderstand me, my dear friend, or tax me with. indifference or lukewarmness on these points. I would hail, as gladly as you do, all CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 205 these blessed changes, these glorious improvements, in our hearts and our homes, all over the earth, if I could see any good reason for believing them within our reach. But I cannot. The more I look at these same evils and troubles of life, which you would thus banish, the more clearly do I see God's hand in them; the more necessary do they seem to the com- pletion of our earthly education. But I have already dwelt sufficiently on this thought, and can only reiterate my conviction of the folly of trying to separate the lights and shadows about us, and to alter the decrees of heaven. In a word, I believe that the folly and wickedness of the world, are just as necessary to bring out and set off the splendid exhibitions of wisdom and goodness, for which we build our epics and rear our monuments, as the blood, and garbage, and putrid carcasses that we put about our draperies, are needed to impart that warmth and richness of soil which is to nourish our luscious Ilamburghs and dainty Camelias. We must take the two things together, just as we must take the reptiles and fevers of the tropics, with their gay plumage and brilliant flowers; and as to any social organization ov legislation, which is to extir- pate these same vices and crimes of humanity, it seems to me just about as visionary to expect it, as to expect to see any machinery of man's contriving, for cooling, at will,' the hot sands of the desert, or smoothing down the turbulent waves of ocean. p I I'I Li Ii If ii II I I' I I. page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. A. I can't agree with you. I am not convinced. Ii believe there is a great deal to be said on the oth- er side of the question, both in the way of vindica- tion and illustration. I am not going to trouble you with it to-day, however. When we next meet, I shall claim the privilege of a hearing, for a few mo- inents, if you are' not tired of the subject. C. Most willingly. CON VERSAT C. Well, brother A., here ~ what you have to say for yours fast,, do you, to this same doctri tamed and kept, on earth, and '~ by any thing that friend B., o, urged to the contrary? A. JdomyfriendIdo. I r this, do I believe that God deE man. Butlet'mefirstbrieflye or two points, wherein I think 1 what misinterpreted. II am not in his sarcastic remarks would the advocate of any new-fangle ciety, or of any patent legislate way to brino' about all these gl( I; more than I am of any of th pills or powders, that he is so f4 1 I 9 JON VI. ~e are, ready to hear elf. You still cling ne of perfection, at- vill not be persuaded ~ myself; may have ~To less a destiny than dgns for earth and explain myself on one I have been some- ;, then, as brother B. seem to insinuate, d organization of so- on, that is straight- I )rious changes; any ose miracle-working j nd of satirizing, for I page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 CLOUDS AM) SUNSHINE~. the instantaneous extirpation of all the diseases of the world. I am no Socialist. I believe in home; in the endearments, joys, sorrows, cares, duties of home, as a divinely appointed institution, the place of which cannot be supplied, the blessed functions of which cannot be performed by ~ny substitute of man's contriving. But at the same time, my friend, I am for looking with '~an eye of tolerance, nay of encouragement, on every honest experiment for the amelioration of the social and moral condition of my brethren. I am for giving them all a fair hearing and trial, in this broad domain which God has en- trusted to us. I do not believe in any contracted modes of thinking, or of action, or in any spirit of bigotry or persecution, in a land like this. They have no business here; are utterly out of keeping, alike with our principles, and with these magnifi- cent estates, these world-traversing rivers and world- feeding allies of ours. I am for listening patiently, then, nay for giving the right hand of fellowship to every sincere reformer. Let theni all be heard. Let the principle of Association be fairly tested. If the truth be with it, let it vindicate that truth, by its successful action; if it be based on false views of human nature, let its failure fairly demonstrate that falsity to an impartial world. Again, I am not, as I just now said, the advocate of any pet law or series of laws, that are straightway to revolutionize human nature, to heal all the wounds and dry up N I all the sores of the body politic. I rely on no such quack medicines as these, ftw the blessed Cli;ltIg(s that I look forward to. No, no ; but on the sl~~v, toilsome, patient, faithful, but in the end triumphant, world-including march of mind; on the gradually enlarged circuit of the schoolmaster, the gradually expanded and amended course of lessons that he is to teach; till at last, the whole family of man is em- braced in his ministrations, and the minds and hearts of all are fairly developed, under his instructions. This is the perfection that I dream of (if you will), and this the road to it; a perfection, too, which does not, as brother B. also seemed to take for granted, imply any necessary equality of all intellects or conditions, or equal aptitude of each man for all employment, any more than it does an equal fertility in all the soils, or an equally genial character in all the cli- mates of earth; but which does imply equal rights, the recognition of every man as a brother, the world- wide reign of peace and good-will, the extirpation of idleness, poverty, disease, vice, and crime; which does imply the bringing about of improvements, phy- sical, moral, and intellectual, which so far from being measured by, can be but feebly apprehended, from any ~hin~ that has hitherto been realized on earth; scientific discoveries, triumphs of art, varied forms of industry, and manifestations of beauty, compared with which, all our doings, hitherto, are little more than chills play: a state of things, wherein preven- ! page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. tives and remedies will have been found for all that was before held noxious, latent virtues and uses dis.. covered in all that was before thought worthless, and the wisdom and goodness of the great Designer, more and more completely manifested, in the more and more thorough~ exploration and comprehension of his wotks ; a state of things,' wherein violent and un- timely deaths will no longer be known, but every departure be a gentle dismissal from a scene of faith- fully completed labors, and innocent enjoyments, a gentle introduction to new spheres of action. This, my friend, is the perfection which I believe God has in store for his children. Far, far off; indeed, the consummation; .but none 'the less certain-is it, that the first steps of the progress thereunto, have been' taken, and that its course is ever onward. Yes, this . imy dream, which I am unwillingtsurnetil less exchange for that perpetual succession of nuis.- ances, follies, troubles, on which brother B. seems to take such a perverse pleasure in dwelling;' that ceaseless conflict of good and evil, which you so in- sist upon, as indispensable to the true discipline and ~relish of life. I see not the' necessity of that conl- flict ; on the contrary, I believe that in the universal diffusion of peace and innocence, there would be far more significance and charm in existence, than ever ; far more employment for the goodness of a Howard or a Fenelon, for the genius of a Raphael or a Shakspeare. I have already, in a brief, glancing CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 211 way, undertaken to make out, in reply to friend B.) a veritable, progress, thus far ; to show, (and how any reasonable man should~ deny such a proposition, ,is to me most strange,) the existence of all manner of inventions and improvements about us, that the world never knew, till now, and that would fill our brethren of the patriarchal ages, with wonder aptd delight, were they here to-day, to behold them. I shall not trouble you with'any'more illustrations on that point ; but, with your leave, I will venture, with all due sense of my incompetency to the task, to sha- dow forth some few of those good things, that I be- lieve the future is to reveal; and will endeavor not unreasonably to tax your patience, in so doing. C. Well, my friend, I shall listen with pleasure. As I said. before, this same perfection of yours seems to me the veriest dream of enthusiasm ; a consum- mation, that no sun will ever rise upon. None~ the less, however, do I respect the earnestness and heartiness of your faitlz. Take us, then, with you, (our sarcastic, incredulous brother here, and myself,) and let us see some of the bowers and walks of this .Paradise of yours, and of these pleasant things that are so to enliven and bless it. A. Briefly then, and ivith all due modesty, to my task. Far indeed be it from me to presume to- por- tray, or to imagine, even, the full splendors of such. a consummation. 'Tis but a hasty glance -at some few of its features, that I propose to take, and that i i~' ~' 1'~ ;: I Ii K. page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] I Ii 212 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. without any special order or niethod. Let us then, my friends, suppose ourselves to be making an orial voyage over th is same perfected world of ours ; stopping here and there to see how the old homes and fire-sides, the old social relations will appear,.. how the old cities and landscapes will look when peace and plenty, innocence and intelligence are thus presiding over them. We will alight, then, at one or two prominent points, if you please, and look about us, for a moment. And first, what sort of a specta-. cle will our own dear town present, in that happy period ? Charming, charming, indeed, the .picture, as we approach it ! What comely dwellings, what spacious, well-kept -streets, what clusters of bright handsome, courteous citizens ! What clear, ringing voices, what pleasant salutations ! What order and decorum everywhere prevail! No sots or paupers, or pickpockets, or harlots, or cripples -deface the scene ; no turbulenahackmen or insolent policemen, no haggard victims of business, hurrying down to their speculations, no martyrs to idleness lounging listlessly along ; but a pleasant stir, a gay, sprightly movement, everywhere diffused, proclaims the reign of health and temperance alike in tasks 'and pleas-- ures, and of the light hearts and pleasant fancies, that follow in their train. -What splendid shops, too, are here, filled with fabrics from all corners of the earth ! What magnificent 'porticoes greet the eye in, all directions, and gymnasiums,- and baths, ii CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 213 and fountains, and conservatories, and markets of all kinds, models of beauty and neatness, and crowd- ed with all manner of good things ! What a charm- ing; intermixture, everywhere, of stately mansions, and temples dedicated to Faith, Art, and Science ; every science having its own hallowed .pile,- every art its own special theatre for the display of its tri- umphs. Such churches, too ! As magnificent in their architecture and adornments as their rites are simple and solemn. No multiplicity of sects here be- wilders the worshipper, no-jargon and falsehoods of. priestcraft, no vile confessionals, no monstrous nunner- ies,no dry and pedantic display of scholastic subtleties deface these services. One blessed creed alone pre- vails throughout the' earth, and there are but two articles in it ; -Christ's precious commandments, love to God and love to our brethren. These alone are the themes of the preacher, the Creator's goodness as everywhere displayed in his works and ways, man's goodness and happiness, as he humbly imitates the great Master ! And how admirably do the brief, but beautiful prayers, and the swelling anthems re- spondi to them ! What groups of school-houses too, and colleges are here, with their pleasant walks, and gardens and play-grounds ! What companies of beautiful, and ingenuous youths, are they sending forth continually, no longer to contend with a harsh and perilous world, but to apply, with generous emu- lation, and prompt success, the lessons learned. in I :1 'I 41 page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 215 214 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. them, to the infinitely varied, 'and ever instructive pursuits of life! There are structures, that we miss, indeed, in this pleasant scene, as we miss the quar- rels and infirmities, with which they dealt; Forts and Barracks, Hospitals and Courts of Justice, Prisons, Asylums of all sorts; no longer extant, thank heaven, save in the records and pictures of the past, save in the venerated images of the heroes and benefactors, who fought, or founded, or labored' in them, of old, and who, by their ministrations helped along that blessed consummation, that we are now beholding. But what comfortable dwellings abound everywhere! No, such thing as an unsightly or rickety structure is to be seen. And what pleas- ant sounds issue forth from them! What happy groups are scattered about in them ! No scowls, or scolding, here; no reciprocation of harsh language; but harmony and sympathy, both in their labors and their recreations; but mutual esteem, and regard everywhere prevailing between husbands and wives, parents and children, masters and servants. Good hours, good wages, good habits here tell their own bh3ssed story, without needing any interpretation of ours. Ah, what stately building have we here; crowjied too, with all, the statues of the great philos- ophers and inventors of old? 'Tis the Observatory. What a pile'! What ~magnificent apparatus and in- struments! What precious discoveries have they made, are they continually making, in the great dcep of air! What would a Galileo or a Herschel have said to such soundings as these? See too, the su- perb Custom House; and the Post Office, thattri- umph of architecture. Qh, how different th~ contents of those myriad letter's and journals, that are mo- mently passing through it, from those of older time; Here are no records of fraud, of horrible casualties, of hearts broken by neglect, or base ingratitude; all is glad tidings and gentle messages. And so, in that other priiicely pile, whose sculptured entabla- ture makes the Parthenon itself seem rude. Here, too~ are no unwise tariffs, no fraudulent valuations, no vile tricks of trade to deal with; but equity, in- telligence, courtesy, and promptness preside over its portals, pervade its manifold chambers. See the warehouses too, of the merchants; how commodious, how capacious, how filled with all manner of contriv- ances for the facilitation and despatch of business! What massive, what magnificent quays are here! Dotted too, with the bronze and marble images of the great navigators and discoverers of earth. No vaga- bonds or rag-gatherers, no vile smells, or profane or filthy language here annoy us. All is decency and decorum. But who shall describe the infinite variety and beauty of the vessels that are continually coming and going, in this classic bay, these histori- cal rivers of ours, or lying in graceful groups, in their capacious docks? And now we look out upon the blessed sea. Let us venture forth upon it, in our I I I ,4.j j4 215 page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 4 2163 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. little trial craft. Here are the old Narrows,, to be sure; but where are the Quarantine Grounds, and the gloom-suggesting Hospitals, and the bristling cannon, and frowning fortresses? Gone, gone, thank heaven, never more to re-appear on earth. Gay villas and gardens, and solemn temples have supplanted them, and they live only in the quaint records and curious engravings of olci times. But what a goodly gathering of &raft of all sorts, is there, below us propelled by all manner of ingenious motive powers; going forth, not as brother B. said, in any spirit of irreverent defiance, or mad mockery of the tempest, b~t none the less, armed and equipped with abundant contrivances for robbing the gale of its terrors; with wise atid good masters aboard, with temper- ance, intelligence, good will, animating their crews. Oh, what a spectacle does. ocean present, in this happy period! Not a solitary pirate lurking in any bay or cove thereof; not a skulking slave-ship, not a frowning frigate to be seen; nothing but fleet and comely vessels, going about on their peaceful errands, everywhere exchanging civilities and good offices; every coast thoroughly surveyed and lighted, every hidden rock and shoal ferretec~ out, and proclaimed to the mariner; every haven open to him, a pleasant welcome in every land! Let us cross these waters, and take a peep, for one little moment, at dear old England, and see how she looks, in these happy lays. Every where the same blessed changes , and CLOUDS AND SUNSHiNE. 217 improvements! Science has long since banished the black clouds that overhung her towns, philan- thropy has long since smoothed the brows and p11- lows of her laborers. What cpnveniences and, com- forts of all sorts in all her mines and workshops and factories! How have all the old stenches, and perils, and nuisances been extirpated from every craft! What a well-row arded, bright, intelligent thing h~~s labor become, throughout the land! What a world of good books, cheap. amusements, innocent recrea- tions are within reach of the laborer! Nor palace nor work-house ~ ~ ~een in the picture; noP are the streets lined with policemen, or crowded with gay uniforms, or the haVbors thronged with ships of war; but, blessed substitutes therefore, we see a world of smil~ngiittle se o'MThiises~ and happy little homes, with frolicking children about them, and Singing 'bird~, and gay flowers ~o false pride of birth, or place, or pursp, prevents the free interchaPge of kindly greetings,. thro ugliout this happy land. Ab, what Depots! models of elegance and convenience nothing uncouth or unseemly meets the eye. What order and precision ! What admirable accommoda- tions and reasonable charges! What time they keep ! Every man knows his place, is at his post no collisions, fractures,, explosions, b~t all is perfect comfort and.clock-work; and why not, when temper- ance, intelligence and .self-respect rule the hour? What magnificent exhibitions of cattle; are here. and f V .3, 3. 33 3, 4 33. Ii II 'I page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] 218 CLOUlIS AND S1Jr~$HINE. flowers and fruits ; ~to which those of famous old Chatsworth itself, that we read of, seem tame and primitive! B. Excuse me, my friend, for this interruption.; but I really cannot help asking what, meanwhile, has become of the NqXional Debt, the Income and other taxes, the descendants of. Her Majesty, the pe~rs temporal and spiritual, the overgrown estates, mo- riopolies, fat livings, sinecures of all sorts, that to- day so crowd the picture? A. Gone, gone, gone, my friend, all of them; not put oust of the way, however, by fraud or violence; no, no; but they h~ve slowly and gently melted away, under the light and warmth of the blessed day of equality and brotherhood; they, an~l the vast domains and piles that were devoted to them.- Crowns, and coronets, and armorial bearings, have 4'long since lost their lustre and significance; while centuries of peace and prudence have cancelled the debts, and annulled the taxes that the wars and fol- lies of old brought with them. And their substi- tutes are these same happy'homes, these everywhere multiplied and circulated comforts that we see around us. Think not, howe~er~ that the picture suffers any. even in the artist's eyes, in consequence. We miss, indeed, a few stray palaces and stately hospitals, a few pompous parades and military fune- rals; but we have, instead, the splendid processions of peace and infinitely varied industry, the number- * -rn -w CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 219 less ddmes that Freedom everywhere rears to Faith and Knowledge. I must not linger over them, how- ever. Let us go, if you will, and look foi' another brief moment upon old Rome. We can but throw a passing glance at the smiling fields and gardens of lovely France, with their ten thousand improve- ments in drainage, tillage, and culture; or a~ the stately bi~idges that cross her streams, her bea~iful system of telegraphs, her railways radiating ~n all directions, each set in flowers, and bordered by su- perb trees; or at the cities that dot her surface, so admirably built, paved, cleaned, lighted, ventilated; or at the innumerable new employment 'and com- forts that science has found, for the dwellers among the Alps. Here we are, at the gates of the impe- rial city. No traces, though, do we see of imperial or jxipal tyranny, but the same blessed transmuta- tions as before. No lounging soldiers, or mutilated beggars, or crumbling towers disfigure the picture, but peace, plenty,, industry, everywhere enliven it. The Campagna is~ covered again with farms and vil- las, never, more to return to desolation. The Pala- tine is again crowned with stately; buildings; not the scenes, though, of royal riot and brutal debauch- cry, but dedicated to science. Here are vast libra- ries, an(l halls where chemistry unfolds the subtle mysteries of' nature, where astronomy pores upon the never-tiring volume of the skies. iI3ut one ruin meets the eye; the shattered~ silent Colosseum; 4 *1 9, 'I 114 411 III ii V page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. not the original stones, indeed ; they long since crumbled into dust; but they have carefully pre- served the aspect that it wore, with its broken arches, and vacant arena, in the 19th century of Christ;* that it might -remain, a lasting memento of the crimes of old, might sound its solemn warning to humanity, through all time. There is another Co- losseum, hard by ; even more vast and beautiful;. but oh, how different the entertainments presented in it! Here grand conferences are held, of the wise and learned of all lands.; magnificent flower-shows ; beautiful scientific experiments ; here concerts are given, with music such as was never before heard on earth. What hymns, what choruses are here, and grand and infinitely varied orchestral effects ! Think of all these things. and then of the harsh clangor of the trumpets, the mad conflicts of wild beasts and wilder men, that disgraced and made terrible the arena of its namesake ! C. But St. Peters, and its precious works of art, and its superb pageants, and, the palace hard by, with-its manifold treasurers; have they all perished, are they all forgotten, in tliese golden days-of yours'.? A. The originals, of course, were dust, ages ago. But think you, the world would have let such pre- cious thoughts and images perish ? No, no ; careful . copies have been made from time to time, of all these wonders. Still glows the. fresco with the Hours of Guido ; still bright are the mosaics, that tell the CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 221 I \~xJ * 37~IP~ ~I blessed story of the Transfiguration ; the School of Athens still holds its scattered groups of philoso-. .phers ; all the old forms of Greece and Rome are here, in undimmed beauty and majesty. But where stood the old church itself, is now a pile far more grand and beautiful, more rich in monuments ; and what is more, they were not so many years in build- ing it, as they were centuries in putting up the other. Contributions flowed freely in, from all lands,,and in one little week, the sum required was raised. Not a dollar, stained with fraud, or extorted from super- stitious fear, was expended upon it. Well-paid, and worthy, were the laborers who reared its walls ; and the rites that are celebrated in it, how do they con- trast,'in their sublime purity and simplicity, with the mummeries and absurdities that so marred the beauty of that famous one of old ! And so throughout the happy city ; peace, freedom, brotherhood ; every street bears witness to them ; they beam forth -from every countenance. Naples, too, has the same plea- san ts tory to tell for herself. No longer that Paradise of devils, that some old cynic once called her ; but, in her loveliness and goodness, perfectly according with the exquisite scenery around her ; long since extinct, those crimes, vices, diseses, that gave her such a "bad eminence," in the annals of the past ; long since vanished, those turbulent, half-savage lazzaroni of hers, though their sparkling eyes and mnanly limbs still set off the virtues of their descendants. But I If 4 j 1.~ *1~ page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 222 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 22.3 must not trespass on your patience, my friends. Else might we linger over restored Thebes, rebuilt Athens, all Greece, revived, free, happy; over Tur- key, redeemed for ever fNom despotism and supersti- tion, and the magnificent Constantinople of these days. One little glance at Egypt, and 'old father Nile, and I have done. Glorious revolution, indeed, in man' aaid nature! Smiling fields an~l shining cit- ies everywhere greet the eye; innumerable struc~ tures and devices, too, for controlling and for circu.- lating the precious waters of the river, through all the veins and alleys of the land; canals, aqueducts, and reservoirs, exquisite machinery for draining and for irrigating the~ lands, to which the contrivances of old, even of renowned Holland herself, seem. the veriest toys. What factories, tod, where innocent, happy labor plies its pleasant tasks, in airy, well- lighted' chambers; what academies, filled with bright-eyed scholars! Ah, here are the famous old quarries; but to what different uses are they put! No more gloomy sphinxes or monster deities are carved out of them, or long lines of dismal pyra- mids, or temples dedicated to hideous rites, and vile' beast-~yorship. Oh, no; but Christian churches, halls of legislation, observatories, yiaducts, statue- crowned bridges, forms of the wise and good of all ages. But listen to the sweet chimes from yon tow- er. Strange music this, is it not, for grim old Egypt? Let us venture forth, a moment, on the Lybian Desert, nay, on the great Sahara itself. What do we behold? It is not, indeed, quite yet given over to Socialism, as brother B. seemed to ap- prehend; a mere orchard, dotted with phalanste- ries; but there are 'glorious changes in it, neverthe- less; improvements quite practicable in this period of universal loc6motion; of rapid, constant inter- change of thoughts and products, between all lands. There are orchards here in abundance, and thriving towns and villages, and intersecting rail-roads, and all the evidences of high culture. Cam this be Africa, my friends; the Africa that old' records tell of; that accursed, desolate land, with its unexplored rivers and wildernesses, its burning heats, fevers, reptiles, savage menand beats, its murderous feuds? Is this fair coast, studded with cities, alive with commerce, the scene of that infamous traffic in hu- man flesh, that staineil the annals of past ages? lEven so~ After long centuries 'of toil and struggle, Faith and Science have won these glorious victories, at last; have righted all these wrongs, extirpated all these vile passions, drained all these marshes, rooted out these treacherous beasts and lurking fevers; Art has fouud out many precious secrets, in the way of planting and building; has contrived many cunning modes of. cooling these hot airs, and of rendering these regions, not merely tolerable, but, as we see, the fIst abodes of all those comforts, refinements, em- bellishments, all those moral and intellectual devel- I 222 223 A / A ~i4 page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] I y 224 CLOUDS AND 5TJN~J1INE. opmcnts, that the philosophers of old times fondly imagined were confined to certain favored zones of earth. But you ~mile incredulously, my friend. You have evidently no 'faith in this same brilliant future of mine, and so I will dwell no longer upon it. 0. 1 have not, indeed. As I said before, I re- spect most sincerely, this hearty, enthusiastic nature of yours; I listen with pleasure to your glowing de- scriptions. Nor can I I~elp wishing, at times, that all these good things were in store for us, and that men were destined to' become the terrestrial angels that you paint themb But no, no, it may not be. God hath decreed it otherwise. The ~me old obstacles and objections, that I have already glanced at, still stare me in the face, as pertinaciously as ever, not- withstanding this bright, vivid picture of yours. A dream, my friend, a very dream! I say again; the whole machinery of life, as I understand it, is based upon these very evils and infirmities, that you have so carefully excluded from your 'sketch; and this pseudo-perfection 'yoif so insist upon, is but an- other name for destruction. Is it necessary to illus- trate a 'point so clear as this? Can you help seeing, my dear friend, that you have been pulling to pieces, all this while, far more than you have been creating; impeding the very march of mind that. you so seek to urge forward;. narrowing the circuit, alike of the schoolmaster and the merchant.; virtually shutting up three quarters of the shops of these same vision- 225 ary cities,' that you have just been showing us? Pretty progress, truly, that annihilates, at one fell swoop, all the armies and navies of the world, and the vast and manifold industry, dependent on them; that cuts off all the fees of its judges and lawyers; that' puts an end to the visits of its doctors; blots out the shining lights of its apothecaries; seriously injures, if it does not destroy, all those crafts, that live by ministering unto the elegant desires and caprices of men; worse still, that takes away. from the priest, the best half of his mission, and from love, the most sacred part of its ministrations, that~ of reclaiming the erring; and binding up the wounds of the broken-hearted; that robs the artist, in every walk of art, of so many sources of inspiration; that deprives us all of so much innocent fun, too,~ in re- moving all those little absurdities and contre-temps, with which it deals. Are not these, my friePd, the inevitable accompaniments of this insane attempt (pardon the epithet) to revolutionize human nature? If indeed, you can find adequate employment and appropriate excitements, for all these good people, whose callings you have thus rendered null, and whom you have turned adrift upon the world, in this wholesale and summary fashion, then will I acknow- ledge the injustice of my criticisms, and become a convert to your doctrine. Meanwhile I must con- tinue to call it the veriest dream of the enthusiast. A. Well, well, my friend; I admit that there is I 4f I '4 I CLOUDS AND SUNShINE. page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] i 226 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. some force in these objections of yours ; but don't misrepresent me. I have not looked forwai4 to any such violent and rapid revolution in the hearts and affairs of men, as you speak of. I have taken no such ground. No, no; long, long ages of toil, ex- periments, struggles,)I know, must be gone through, before this blessed victory is won; a host of preju- dices and passions must be grappled with; ten thou- sand practical difficulties, such as you suggest, must be met and overcome first many parts must be dropped from the great drama of life, many new ones introduced, before this vision of mine can be realized. I am. not blind to, still less do I presume to solve these puzzling problems. All I say is, that II believe time will bring t1~e solution of them all, at last; will demonstrate the practicability of all these improvements; will yet show ~o future ages, an earth all alive with innocent ~/id happy workers. Such is my faith in human nature; in the capacities and dispositions which God has given man, and in the materials with which he has surrounded him. Yes, I believe that the* gradual diffusion of the sublime doctrines of Christ, and the sublime truths of science, will achieve all these wonders ; will finally gain the day, everywhere, over the ignorance, indolence, sensuality of men, will wake us all up, at last, yes, the whole brotherhood, from pole to pole, to a true sense of our position, and of the lofty tasks set before us. Slowly indeed, but surely, will all CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 227 these bad passior~s, and brutal appetites, be subju- gate~, or transformed, by them. Avarice will give' up its long-grasped treasures; ambition will no longer seek to reign by force, over the persons, but by love, over the hearts of its brethren; inte mper- ance will be redeemed from its vile thraldom; false pride will no longer turn its back on proffered kind- ness, or keep men away from honest callings ; all the f.dse estimates, petty jealousies, absurd preju- dices of men, with the feuds and wars that grow out of them, yes, all the blunders and wickedness of the world, in God's good time, be banished, and thus will all these puzzles, social, political, moral, that now so embarrass and annoy us, be cleared up, in that day of world-wide wisdom and good-will. These evils are not to afflict earth forever.; they are not an indis- pensable part of the machinery of life. The world will be worth livin~ in, my friend~ when they are gone, Will have plenty of good work and play in it, for all, and pleasant excitements of all sorts. Our affections will not droop and languish, because the objects of them will J~e all bright, and gentle, and beautiful ; our intellects will not flag, because they are not stimulated continually, by the moral and physical infirmities of our brethren. Oh, no; on the contrary, there will be far more to keep both heads and heart~ in healthful action, than ever; a thousand fold more delightful and instructive objects all around us, making every day, every hour of life precious; and * - -~. V .1 4{ I IL if page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] I I I 228 CLOUDs AND SUNSHINE. we shall all be enjoying these blessings alike ; not a man alive, defrauded of his own proper share of la-. bors, studies and enjoyments. Then too, will the true dignity of labor be recognized ; every calling be (alike honorable and attractive; merit in every walk of industry appreciated; every man of genius have a fair hearing, a fair field of action. Nor will there be any want of innocent fun, my friend, as you seem to fear ; fun growing out of the pleasant niistakes of childhood, the little infirmities of age, the eager-. ness of enthusiasm, the blunders of absent-minded-. ness;, but the fun based on'malice, and kept up by the vices and follies of the world, there will of course be no room f'or that, in those blessed days. Nor will tha_ artist have any lack of inspiring themes, but every face, e-very group, every landscape that he sees, will be delightful study for him.' Nor wil there be any want of' those dainties, knick..- knaceks, gems, and objects o$ luxury, that so enliven the windows of the confectioners and fancy-stores of our own times, nor of the purple and fine linen of the merchant. We shall have all these things ; and shall value them aright,.neither doting on nor despi-. sing them. No, no; the philosophers of those days will be no scowling cynics, railing at the good things and innocent recreations of their brethren, but we shall all rationally enjoy, and equitably distribute them. Many, innocent employments, as .well as guilty, will be missing from the scene, I grant you ; I, / CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 229 but who can doubt that there will be abundant sub- stitutds for them; that other and better uses will be found for the drugs of the apothecary, other and no- bler fields of labor for the physician and the lawyer ? *Yes, my friend, the more I think of it, the more faith have I in the reality of this glorious consummation. No less a task than this do I believe God intended for man, both in the moral and physical world. One needs but glance at this same globe of ours, to, see what magnificent enterprises have been shadowed forth, alike for the merchant and the schoolmaster ; what seas to be explored, mountains pierced, rivers pressed into service, wild men, and beasts, and lands to be reclaimed,,and put to good uses.; what under- ground explorations to be made;- and hidden treas- Ures and truths brought to light; what secrets innu- merable to be won from air, earth, and water, and made available to human industry ; what new reve- lations in the heavens ; what a mighty interchange of products, ideas, sentiments, between nations. All this work hath pod cut out for us. -We have fairly entered upon it. We must, we will finish it. No less an achievement will satisfy the ideal of poet or p)hilosopher, will vindicate God's wisdom and good- ness in creating us. Say not, then, that this con- summation is impracticable ; still less, that when all these mighty victories shall have been won, over na- ture and our own hearts, that then, forsooth, there will be no stimulus or relish left in existence. Think '(1 C [ page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] a j I 230 - /CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. of the endless themes of thanksgiving for our medi- tations ; the innumerable pleasant objets of con- templation, and pleasant paths of labor, that will surround us ;.not a moment will be without its de-. lights and profits. Think of the glorious walks and talks of those days. Oh, think of 'a world where every eye will be bright, arm strong, brain -cleari; where no labor will be lost through sickness or in- temperance, or diverted, to keep watch over the stu- pidity and wickedness of others, and where all the laborers will be pulling together. What must the public works, dwellings, gardens, cathedrals of such a planet bce! How must it be stocked with inven- tions of genius, and infinite manifestations of beauty ! How delightful to watch and tend such a world, to renew, embellish, and transmit it, in all its' lustre and happiness, to our children ! Oh, call not this a dream; call not the hasty glimpse I have ventured to take of such a woi-ld, the wild vision of the en- thusiast.: No ;tame, tame iiideed the picture, com- pared with those realities that I verily believe God hath in store for earth. Such a thought as this, my friend, is it not far more inspiring than the. one you so love to dwell upon, of ceaseless alternations, and never-ending jars of good and evil? So it seems to me, and as such, I must continue to cher- ish it. C. 'Well, well, my dear friend, 'as you will. I certainly cannot help admiring the hearty way in CLOUDS AND SUNSI.INE. 231 -which you advocate your doctrine. At the sae time, I must say, I do not see the force of your ar- gumients. You have not shown, at all to my satis- faction, the ways ai ens by which this paradise of yours is to be attained. You express, generally, great faith in human nature, and the wonders which religion and knowledge are finally to work in it ; and you infer, as a matter of course, corresponding wonders in the outer world ; but you do inot describe the processes by which they are to, brought about. You do not tell us what these -new and delightful parts in the great drama are, that are to take the place of the old and bad ones ; or how the happy . crowds of these ideal cities of yours are to be sus- tained, or all these brilliant shops supported. You indulge freely in vague and glowing generalities, but you carefully shun the statistical and practical ques- tions involved-in so stupendous a revolution. You insist upon it, and with characteristic earnestness, that that revolution must and will come ; that these bad passions &f ours must give way, at last, before the power of Faith and Truth ; and that when this is done, then. all these embarrassing and exciting problems,--that noiw disturb society, will be happily solved. You then paint a glowing picture, as be- fore, of the blessed results of such solution. This is all very well ; but I confess, I should like to. see a little more of the machiery that is to work these wonders, should like to have something a little more I I :4 I page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] I 232 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. definite and explicit, than these picturesque fancy- flights of yours, before 1I become a believer in them. -A. Well, I can only say again, in reply, that the machinery seems to me simple enough ; the same ma- chinery that has worked the wonders we witness to- day; the gradual diffusion of moral and scientific truth. As to going into the particulars you call for, I. certainly shall not be so presumptuous as -to at- tempt it. Who, indee, shall dare to -recast this g reat drama, to foretell the innumerable revelations of science and creations of art that are in store for us, or the new callings they are to give birth to, or the ameliorations and improvements they are to cause in the old ones ? Who shA 1 presume to antib cipate the solution of all these problems, moral, phi- losophical, economical, that. are involved in .the bringing about of these glorious changes ? That the world will meet, face, overcome them all in time, however, I doubt it -not. My position,. my dear friend, is simply this (and it seems to me a perfectly reasonable one); I look around me, and see the won- ders already achieved by Faith and Knowledge, alike in the hearts andl institutions of men, and in the face of nature, and I can't help feeling that they will go on achieving them unto the end ; in the same slow and toilsome, but certain and triumphant way ; till 'the generation will come at last, that shall see and enjoy, as a blessed reality, that very consumuma- t tion that I have so feebly and unworthily shadowed forth. G. Never, never. Excuse me, my dear friend, for saying so; but it seems to me that you are so carried away by the generous enthusiasm of your nature, so fascinated by this brilliant fancy sketch of yours, that you cannot, will not, see the innumner- able, insuperable obstacles that must- ever prevent us from realizing it. A. And you, my friend, may you not be so per- versely attached to things as they are, that you can neither appreciate aright the improvements that ac- tually exist around us, nor see the practicability of future ones ? C. Too much so, certainly. Yes, I acknowledge that the Conservative element is quite too. much in preponderance in my composition, and I think the Progressive equally in excess in yours. We shall never agree on this point, I fear ; nor would I need- lessly prolong the discussion. I have no such faith in human nature, myself; as you profess, nor in the* future. I do not believe that religion and knowledge, however attractively presented, eloquently expound- ed, widely circulated they may be, are to work any such miracles as you describe. It is not in us, it is not in earth, to bring about such stupendous chan- ges. As brother 11. said, there is neither faith nor courage enough in the moral, materials nor sunshine ~Nnough in the natural world, therefor. No, no; 4 F 4: - unna CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 00) page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] I, 284 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. these visionary cathedrals of yours; my friend, with their pure and simple rites, will never be reared, save in the dreams of poets ; nor those post-offices, whose mail-bags are crowded with glad tidings only. We cannot thus revolutionize either the hearts,'oi' thie letters of the world ; but they' will ever contain, as now, the same, strange medley of good -and evil propensities, in the one, of. ups and downs, sudden revulsions and wind-falls, wise and simple criticisms, gracious and ungracious messages, in the other. Oh, no ; we may not thus sever the thorns and roses of life; keep thus the innocent flower, and not the ser- pent under it ; thus take away alike the pangs of parting lovers, and the raptures of their meeting, by putting them in a woi-ld all sunshine and con- stancy ; thus separate the mother's love from the mother's care and an hish, or the triumphs of gen- ius from its toils, and tears, and heartaches. Nor is it given us to work corresponding changes in the face of nature, or to win those brilliant, lasting vic- . tories over the ,elements, that you anticipate ; to ex-. tirpate all the vile and desolate spots of earth, light up all its caverns, tame its angry seas and whirl-. pools, turn all its howling wildernesses into gardens. To expept any such revolutions as these, either in the moral or physical world, seems to me most vain and visionary. Angelic powers, indeed, might achieve such feats, angelic natures might enjoy and perpetuate a scene so brilliant as you portray ; but V CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE., 235 how utterly beyond the reach, nay, how undesirable is it, for us frail, fickle, sinful children of men ! .- You have but little faith, then, in the divine efficacy of Christianity ? C. Certainly not, so far as the conversion of earth into heaven is- concerned. If I understand aright Christ's mission, he came for no such purpose, predicted no such result. On the contrary, while he sends forth his disciples, to spread the gospel abroad in all lands, does he not tell them, at the same time, that but few will listen to their teachings or apply them to the business of life ; that these very evils, which you would banish from the world, are there- fore, a permanent part of the divine arrangements, and his religion, in consequence, a -permanent re- li gio n; not a -revolutionizer of humanity, but a rev- elation of inmnortality ; a perpetual source, both of comfort and of warning, for the ineradicable sorrows and sins of earth. Yes, my friend, from whatever point of .view I consider the subject, whether from Scripture, or history, or my own daily observation of myself anad my brethren, I am forced to abandon, as perfectly idle and romantic, those expectations which you so seem 'to cherish. I say again, it i's not in us, or about us, the wherewithal to achieve any such conquests, over ourselves or Nature. When indeed, we have found out a way~ to stop the course of the tornado, or to push back the icebergs to their polar homes, or to silence. the angry voice of the I 1~ I 4 ~1 -I L page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] *1 ~23G CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE thunder, or prevent the mischiefs of the earthquake, then shall we have also found out a charm potent enough to lull to sleep all the angry passions of men, to relax their clinched fists, smooth their wrinkled brows, win, from them their weapons and their ha- treds, ay, to turn all the parti-colored tribes of earth into serene, beautiful, loving angels. When the first of these series of victories has been achieved, the other will have been won also ; and not till then. B. And what monstrous delusion, to suppose otherwise ! I ask your pardon, brother A., for the expression, but do you, can you really mean to say, that you look forward to all these fine things that you have been painting ~ And if so, pray how many tens of thousands of years do you expect to roll by, before those blessed days come round;, those days of world-wide peace and brotherhood; wherein every brother will be alike ~omfortable and comely and courteous, every calling alike attractive and honors able, every house the home of cheerful industry, every~mind the abode of happy meditations ; when all the pitoducts of labor, from epic poems down to umbrellas, will be freely interchanged, all over the world, without money and without price; when no poet's reveries or philosopher's speculations, will ever more be invaded, (as in these harsh times,) by clan~orous duns, or by the croakings of a neglected stomach; those blessed days, in which every wearer of a coat, that may have become too venerable for 237 beauty or utility~ will only have ~to step in at the very first fraternal tailor's shop that he may see, and make the appropriate 'exchange, without tender of payment, without encountering either ill-looks or unpleasant language; at any rate, without hearing the, then obsolete expression, stop thief grating on his ears; wh c~n evcry hungry brother also, ma ysit down, without ceremony, at the very first dinner- table, that his eyes or nose may happen to intimate to him, and be just as certain of finding that dinner a good one,' and the company choice, as of finding himself a welcome guest; he in turn, when at home, being equally ready to share, and with the same cheerful alacrity, the products of his own industry, be they what they may, with the first passer-by, that may feel the want of them; those days of universal order, prudence, and security, when all the delays, fractures, collisions, That now so disturb passengers, and keep penny-a-liners busy, will be unknown; when no boiler will ever more burst, no train get off the track, ~no traveler get intd the wrong car, or point out the wrong luggage, to his porter-brother; when all the treacherous memories, bad spellings, vicious penmanships of earth, with the innumerable troubles and squabbles that follow at 'their heels, will be no more; when there wi!l be no more beggars for Murillos to paint, or little children to ask queer questioiis' about, or ill-bred dogs to bark at; no more Shallows or Slenders, to be laughed at, or Falstaffs I 1' CLOUDS AND S1JNSHINE~ page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] I 238 . CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. to crack their jokes upon them; when Hogarth will be looked upon as the veriest caricaturist, Fielding the veriest libeler of humanity; when Lear and Othello themselves, will have become grotesque; hideous nightmares, and not those sublime pictures of the storms which rage in human hearts, that the fond critics of to-day deem them; when the artist will see no careworn -or passion-stained countenance, in any group of brethren or sisters about him, but instead, one perpetual succession of ruddy, smiling faces, and round, comfort-speaking figures; those glorious days, when the pick-pockets will have all turned astronomers, policemen philosophers, mounte- banks mathematician~; when the bolts and bars, and iron safes, and revolvers of 'our own times, will exist no more, save in the collection of antiqua- ries; when war will have vanished, with all its hor- rors and splendors~; when navies will be extinct; when grog and pig-tail will be unknown to the mer- chant-service; when all the drugs and spirits of earth will be playing other and better parts in the great drama ; when~ the sting of the scorpion, and the odor of the skunk, will be alike forgotten, in the latent uses and beauties, that science will have brought to light in them; when mixing mortar, and laying bricks, at high noon, in midsummer, and taking in sail, at' midnight, in mid-winter, will both have become attractive employment, in which every member of the great brotherhood, will gladly patti- 4 U CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 239 cipate; whenguns and drums and trumpets will be banished from all the toy-sb ops of the planet; when equity and temperance will preside over all its gold- diggings and silver mines; those blessed days, when death shall have been robbed of all his terrors, and the spectres driven from all the 'churchyards; when consumption shall, indeed, have been cured, and the clamors of dyspepsia no longer be heard in the land.; when the jokes of the clown will be hushed, and the mission of Punch be at an end; when all the whims and 'sorrows, that were vented or portrayed by the Hoods, Mathewses, Cruickshanks of the ages past, will have been. swallowed up, in a world-pervading wisdom and happiness; do you, do you, my friend, really believe that any such good times as these, are ever coming, on earth? Will the newspapers of any such days ever be published? If so, what, pray, will be the contents of their leaders, and of their telegraphic despatches? A fanciful man might amuse himself; indeed, by framing articles~ and ad- vertisements, for the Ajorning' H~xa1d. of~~MilThn- nium-day; but will 4 ~on of Adam ever see such tremendous revolutions as these, in the journals and ,the literature of the world, such thorough changes in the contents of its shops, and Museums, and Pa- tent Offices? No, no, no; any more than he will ever see snow-balling, in the 'streets of Congo, or good skating among the coffee-plantations of Java or see the polar bear bringing down that warm win~ I 'if I I' page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] I 240 CLOUDS AND SUNSLIIlNE' ter garment of his which his Creator gave him, for an arctic home, and rolling and tumbling in it, amidst the hot sands of Arabia; or the camel going up to take his place, and hunt seals in Greenland, or rove and swim about, among ice-islands. A. Well, well, my friend, notwithstanding this smart shower of grape of -yours, I still survive.- Neither brother C.'s arguments, nor your sneers, have been able seriously to disturb my faith, but I must still look forward to these same fine things that you so deride. Just such sneers have ever been the portion, both of the inventors and ,predictors. of all the improvements about us. We all know how river and ocean steam navigation, and railroads, and tele- graphs were received at first;. how the idea of edu- cating deaf mutes, and treating lunatics like human beings, and of amending the condition of prisoners, were scouted at, as the dreams of just such vision- aries as you are pleased to consider me. What vol- leys of sarcasms have been discharged at them all! But the jibes have passed away, and. are forgotten, while the improvements themselves everywhere sur- round us, and are hourly 'enlarging the circuit of their good offices. And so will it be, I believe, even unto'the glorious end. Had a far-seeing contempo- rary told one of the Pilgrim Fathers that within three centuries from the landing at Plymouth, one of his descendants would travel, in ten little days, from ocean to ocean, without fatigue, without stop- ,~ I 4- I CLOUDS AND ,SUNSHINE. 241 b I ping -to take a meal or bed, at any inn upon the road, nay, without even dismounting, unless he saw fit, from the steed that bore him, what would the reply to such a prediction have been? WVhy, of course, he would have been looke d upon as a miserable lunatic. Had he gone on to say, that this same descendant would dispatch a message by lightning, just before starting, in order to let his friends on the Pacific know that he was coming, and that said message would not be as many minutes reaching its destina- tion as the sender of it would be days, who can doubt that the prophet in question would straight- way have encountered the harsh discipline to which the poor maniacs of those days were subjected? And yet, are we not perfectly certain that this con- summation will be reached long before the period as- signed in this imaginary prediction? In the face of such obstinate, such glorious facts as -these, my friends, who shall presume to assign a limit to our victories over nature ? They are the credulous - men, I should say, who refuse to see in these won- ders an earnest of still greater ones. Brother C. spoke derisively, just now, of stopping the tornado in its path, and of silencing the angry voice of the thunder, and so following ; when these thing are (lone, said he, then will the bad passions of men be subdued, and not before ; -but I say, that we have already robbed the tornado of half its terrors, have taken away its angry tones from the thunder,. it 1 0 page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] A CLOUDS AND SUNSUINV. Think of the imperial C~sars, burying their heads in the earth, or skulking away like felons at every passing thunder-shower,, and then think of our old republican philosopher, quietly bringing down the electric fluid intd his workshop, and putting it to all manner of uses! Does ~not a simple statement like this, speak volumes for the progress of the world? flow many other phenomena; tao, such as mir~i go, for instance, that the ignorance of old times had dressed up in superstitiouS terrorr, is science continuaRy solving; driving away the spectres with which child- ish fear had surrounded them, and giving us the beautiful forms of truth, in their place. And. will not these blessed explanations of her's continue, till the whole earth, at last, is radiant with intellectual light? I believe it. II say again, how any man can deny the reality of the progress already made *by humanity, in spite of the imperfect education an(l undisciplined passions that have hitherto prevailed, is to me amazing; and above all, the progress of the last half century. If' we have been asleep, indeed, hitherto, who can doubt that we have fairly woke up, at last, to the grandeur of the task assigned us; to the true meaning and value of this domain of ours; the true significance and dignity of all these moun- tains and rivers of earth, and the glorious destiny in store for them; no longer the boundaries of hos- tile nations, no more to be stained with brothers' blood, but the agents' of commerce and civilization, CLOtJT)$ ANI) ~STJNSH1NE. 243 the links in a vast chain of 'beneficent influences, that are to convert us all, at last, into one loving family. Yes, 1 repbat it, the fraternity of tl~e race; this is to be the great consummation of all these im- provements.' For no less a result was all this work cut out, for the engineer, and merchant, and school- master; and, thank heaven, they are all alive, as never before, to the true extent and drift of their labors. We know already, my friends,, on ~ small scale, what the benefits of judIcious graftir~g, and crossing of breeds are, in the vegetable and animal kingdoms; and our scientific culture and breeding are rewarded with flowers, and fruits, and cattle, that the world never saw the like of before; and what are these, hut humble precursors to the great experi- ment, that is to be carried through, on the whole family of man; the world-wide intermixture of breeds, languages, and opinions, and interchange of products, from the poles to the equator; from the rocks, and ice, and guano, up to the daintiest crea- tions of art, the subtlest thoughts of the poet and philosopher? And is not science 'hourly adding facilities, for thjs grand commingling' of men and things; hourly increasing the speed and security with which all these materials, moral and physical, are transferred from land to land? When ever be- fore, could men be brought to~~ther in' b such crowds, and at such short notice, for business or consulta- tion? When ever before, was so much cheap, por- I I 242 page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 244 CLOUDs AND SUNSHINE. table, attractive knowledge (and in all tongues), sent abroad, even to the very humblest doors, ,as now? Who shall presume to estimate the extent and value of the crops that are to spring from the good seed thus freely scattered, or to imagine even, the devel- opments that are to grow out of this grand coming together of the nations ? Ay, and the moral part of the problem ; can we doubt, that it will be solved, in the same satisfactory, glorious way as the physi- cal and intellectual parts ? As I said before, I am not blind to the many obstacles. that 'stand in the way of that solution. There are ten thousand pas- sions and prejudices to be grappled with ; the way- wardness, slothfulness, sensuality of men must be met and subdued first. FaitIL and Truth have a long, hard fight before them, I know ; but equally do I know and feel, that they will win the glorious day, at last. There are good omens all around us, my friends ; there are motive powers working for ~the good cause, as they never, worked before. Chris- tianity has not been, is not that sluggish and un- fruitful thing, that some would represent it. It has already worked its miracles, blessed 'and numberless, in human hearts. The monuments of its labors, are they not every where about us ? Has it not given birth, also, to a world of secret goodness, and unob~- trusive charities, that were never dreamt of in hea- then times ? That greatest of all moral motors, too, the influence of woman, is it not hourly gainig in I 245 strength and purity ? Nay, more, is not the ,whole world far more crowded to-day than ever, with ob- jects of interest and productions of genius;- with good poetry, science, art, innocent amusements of al sorts, to excite and instruct us, and wean us from 'low tastes and brutal appetites ? The press, what wonders is it working continually! When ever be- fore, were the printer, artist, engraver, laboring to- gethier to such* purpose, and' for such a circle of readers and students ? Cheap books, arid' lectures, and illustrated newspapers, are they not lit rally searching the earth, penetrating to the remotest streams, invading its most distant islands ? Tell me not that all these agencies have no glorious con- summation to achieve ; still less, that when they have achieved it, the scene then presented will be less stimulating and desirable for men, than the im- perfectly developed one about us. I cannot assent to any such notion. Tell me not that a worl4 thus explored, purified, embellished, will not be a thou- sand fold more attractive than ever; that God's book of nature, when thus read. and expounded everywhere, by bright-eyed, innocent, intelligent readers, will not have far more glorious mearnings in it, than the feeble vision,, and half-finished tasks of to-day, can give us. To talk thus, and to insist thus, on keeping the world as it is, in preference to the magnificent~ world that the future has in store, seems- to rme just about as unreasonable, as it would be to ii "I r 4 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] 248 CLOUDS AND SUNShINE. CLOUI)3 AND SUNSHINE. 249 this same glorioiis problem; the perfection appro- t private to each,, implying, of' course, tasks more and 4 more lofty and difficult, and pleasures more and more intense and exalted, with every advancing stage of our spiritual education. And why may not this problem be thus going on, harmoniously, unto solu- ti&n, throughout this same course of instruction; be thus successively worked out, in each stage of the discipline, from this earth, the scene of pu r spiritual childhood, up to that blessed star, wherever it m~y be,~ that is to witness the full and final perfection of our being? WI4 may not the Universe be filed with such series of Academies, where the same divine lessons are taught, the same spiritual culture is carried out, the same gradual amendment in the discipline going on, the same '~glorious consummation destined to be achieved; till, at last, perfect peace and love will prevail, every where, and in every part of these innumerable systems of education; not a sin, not a sorrow loft, to mar a single star inheaven; till each child of Qod, in his turn, shall be brought at last to comprehend all the mysteries of His works and government. Yes, tb~s final victory of Truth and Love, not only on our own little earth, but throughout the Universe, dimly indeed, as we poor infants, in this infant school of our career, can ap- prehend the thought, yet is it not the only one worthy of God, or satisfactory* to his creatures? Will not the Creator's omnipotence, and goodness be I 248 j thus every where vindicated, at last, and all the powers of darkness, after having fulfilled their dVead mission, be again transformed into their original brightness? But f~r from me, my friends, be the temerity to dwell too curiously or minutely, on speculations such as these, or to presume to shadow forth any of the wonders, or splendors of such an Universe. Bold enough were the task, P5 portray an earth, all light and innocence, but what irnagina- tion shall dare to penetrate into these wonderful worlds to come? And yet, our thoughts will wan- der at times, in spite of us, into these far off regions; will fondly seek to explore these pleasant homes, to paint their landscapes, rear - their piles, compose their happy groups; will fondly dwell upon the flowers and fruits, the music a;nd language~ of these new abodes ;. the new organizations that are in store for us; the new powers of perception, though~ feel- ing, evermore growing in strength and subtlety, as we advance from stage to stage of our spiritual de- velopment. What faculties, indeed! What powers of motion, hearing, vision, may be ours! Of con{em- platioi~, too, no longer invaded by the daily calls of appetite, the manifold bodily needs and infirmities that belong to earthly experience! What ever en- larging Science, Art a~d~ Faith, as we goon, scaling the heights, sounding the depths of this wondrous frame of things, learning more and more the proper- ties and uses of God's works, finding out more and it 249 page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. more, continually, of the secrets and motives of His government ! What grand gatherings, too, and con- ferences, of the wise, the learned, the beautiful ! What marvellous contrivances for interchanging thoughts and sympathies! What wondrous modes of communication between stars. and star ! What sights, what sounds, what infinitely varied labors and enjoyments, compared with which, all the scenery, and music, and tasks, and recreations- of earth, seem as diminutive, as unto us, seems that. little world, in which the bee toils and sings ! Think, nay friends, of faculties and privileges, such as these ! Think of a being, so gifted with powers of motion, that he could pierce at will the depths of air, could course from star to star, could follow the earth, in its flight, and gaze at pleasure upon the fair map beneath him, or tract the beautiful succession. of sunrises or of sunsets, that .are -forever flitting over its surface ; whose vision could embrace, alike the grand outlines and the minutest details of -a whole hemisphere, from its proudest city to its humblest village-spire; whose hearing -could take in all the sounds that rose from it, from the shouts of its as- sembled thousands, down to the faintest note of its smallest bird or insect ; and whoa could receive all these impressions, undazzled, unfatigued, and with- out tumultuous passion, but with a serene and holy joy ; a being, whose mind too could grasp the mean- ing and .moral of the drama beneath him, with the 250 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 251 same promptness and clearness, that his senses could perceive the panorama itself, with all its va ied sights and sounds; who could see, underneath all this strange, conflicting play of thoughts and gas- sions, God's goodness gradually working. out the problem of human happiness . Fanciful and vi ion- ary as this may seem to you, my friends, I ca not forego the glorious thought. I cannot see wh we ourselves may not yet, in God's good time, be the recipients of just such powers and experience ,as these. What is there more strange or incredib e in it, than that we should be here on earth, to-day, vith these faculties of mind and body, that we have, and the manifold uses and enjoyments unto which th y minister'? But enough of this. I have alrea y,'I fear, taxed your patience quite too far. C. Not at all, not at all. These are, indeed, far- off regions, my friend, into which you have geen wandering ; speculations far better suited to an elic natures, than to poor, mortal wits.- I have no great faith in them myself; I confess, or in any profit go be derived from pursuing them. We had far betg r be minding our own proper business here below, it seems to me, than be making these fanciful e cur- sions, through the realms of space. It may be, nevertheless, as you say, that these experiences are in reserve for us ; nay, that all these marvellous gifts and privileges are yet to be the portion of -ery child of Adam, however humble or worthless. Far 'I "I if page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] 25 ~CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE- CODANSUHNE25 sooner would I believe this, than cherish the gloomy and incredulous spirit of our brother. here; but as usual, my friend, in this fanciful picture of .yours, youi seem most carefully to exclude all the terrors, while you expatiate on the splendors of the future-. Pray, what right have you to infer, as you do, this final and universal victory of good over evil, to turn all these stars about us into palaces. of light, these fiends into angels, nay, to transform Beelzebub him-- self, into a loyal, obedient son of God ? What war- rant hiave you for all this ? I find no such expecta- tions held forth in my Biblei. I hear .no such doc- trine from Christ's lips. On the contrary, he tells me of lost souls, and of regions set apart for endless sufferings ; 'of progress unto perfection in evil as well as good. He paints no such brilliant and fanci- ful universe as yours ; promises no such all-pervad- ing love End light; but preaches of horrors as well as joys ineffable, of desolate, accursed realms, where no cheerful ray, no happy. thought ever enters. How can you reconcile these things, my friend ? How can you escape the imputation of heresy, in setting forth such notions as yours ? A. Well, if it be -heresy, to receive with reluc- tance the doctrine of eternal punishments, I. must plead guilty to the charge. I know the difficulties of-the case, my friend. There are texts, certainly, that seem to proclaim that doctrine, with terrible clearness ; but I confess, I gladly run away from I. 252 i them, and take refuge in others, that speak'a lan- guage far more comfortable and encouraging, and far more in accordance, as it appears to me, both with the Creator's omnipotence and goodness. No, nio; I cannot believe that. God has doomed any creature of his, in any part of his dominions, to end- less misery. That every sin must have its attend- ant sorrow ; that the. penalty of every transgres- sion must be paid to the full - that no sophistry or* ingenuity can evade that payment ; that guilt pnd wretchedness still, abound on -earth, and in other worlds, and that they will long continue to impair their beauty and happiness, all these things who will presume to question ? -But. that this sad'# his- tory is to remain so forever,.or that any star in sthe universe is destined to be the theatre of eternal suf- fering, or that any being exists in any part of it, so steeped in guilt and anguish (no, not Satan himself), as to be beyond the redeeming love or healing power of the Creator, I no more believe it than I do that there is any intellect that can baffle God's wisdom, or any force that can resist his supremacy. .Oh, no; on the contrary, I believe that in this mysteri- ous, but divinely ordained conflict of good and evil, the powers of light are, everywhere, slowly but surely gaining the ascendancy over the powers of darkness, and that it will continue to be so, even unto the perfect day; yes, that perfect day, wherein all these blessed victories- over~ sin and ignorance I, 253 page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 254 CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. shall have been consummated, these transformations 4, completed, and no solitary stain of folly, guilt, or grief, be left to mar the lustre of the Universe. But, my friends, I will no farther tax your kindness; Let me then, in conclusion, 6nce more declare my faith in this same doctrine of perfection, unshaken ~as it is, by all that you have urged against it; alike {~V in that perfection appropriate to earth, to be won and kept by man, in this, the first stage of his schooling, and in that other and inconceivable glori.- ous perfection, that is to be developed in the blessed worlds to come. ~,1 '4 ~1 ~1 44~~ page: 256-257 (Advertisement) [View Page 256-257 (Advertisement) ] ,~ ~ ~ VALUABLEBOO PUBLISHED BY JOHN S. No. 17 ANN-STREET Near Broadway, New- OPINIONS OF THE PIVE CC FUN AND EARNEST." By the author of CC lid," "Fancies of a WhimsicaLMan," etc., If, with all the nameless species of books e to write one sui generis, the author of Fun fairly in the race for popularity. He is jude] the fashion of his fancies or his reflections, I not from wholly original materials-which' n ity-at least in styles exclusively his own. ~I like the two preceding from the same rapid b tion. It is neither tale nor essay; announce: avows no aim; affects neither didactics nor s yet it is a compound of fancy and philosophy humor grave views of life and science-sa cheerful trust in the future of humanity. The book opens with a plunge in!o the yea the long spy-glass of the author's imagination terity at the distance of more than two centu new in this age of great changes and rapid p V KS TAYLOR, York. :ss. musings of an Inva- etc. xtant, it is any merit and Earnest starts L~ted to no model for )ut weaves them, if iay be an impossibil- The work before us, and, defies classifica- s no proposition, and mtimentalism. And ',blending with light tire sweetened with ~r 2076, and through n, we see our pos- ries. It is nothing regress to guess at I / page: 258 (Advertisement) -259 (Advertisement) [View Page 258 (Advertisement) -259 (Advertisement) ] OPINIONS OF THE PRESS, the world unborn; but here we have the forms of things unseen bodied forth with so familiar an air, that we half believe the -divi- miation already verified. Here and therg dash of wilful extrava- gance, so far from correcting the illusion, only sets us to thinking that all things short of tunneling the globe, or building a bridge to the moon, will be possible to the science and art of future ages. Another part of Fun and Earnest is entitled "C Extracts from the Epistles of Whimsiculo the Elder,"-the themes and drift of which are quite too various for our present notation. All prove the writer, however quaintly he may dress his ideas, to be a clear and close observer and thinker. The author, in this and his preceding essays; gives ample evi-. dence of I'aculties which we should wish to see exercised in some systematic production-something, the form as well 'as the substance of which would be memorable. He clearly belongs to the new order of mental workers, who have, no notion of pulling in the traces with old school plodders, or being hitched to the common .vehicles of sentiment, satire, or philosophy. The fun of Fun and Earnest is but the light, bright froth, capping~ a well-. brewed and wholesome beverage. The earnest of it we- accept,; as an earnest of still better draughts by the same, ready and in- genious compounder.-Piladelplhia Evening Bulletin. FUN AND EARNEsT. -By the Author of Musings of an Invalid, Fancies of a W~himsical Man, &c. This is the third of a series of very peculiar books, the prede- cessors of which we have already noticed favorably. The author, a humorist and'a scholar, evidently mixing little with the world he observes, has yet the keenest sympathy with the life of -the times, the nicest observation f all the tendencies Qf-society, but with an irresistible proclivity to measure them all by the foregone history of our kind, and the universal laws of our nature. An ingrained moralist and natural preacher, he tries to hide his wig and bands, his table of commandments and moral philosophy, under the robe of a harlequin, or the mask of a mummer. No- thing would frighten him so much as to be suspected of a wish to teach, and yet he is as busy as a Yankee schoolmaster with his lessons ; nothing disgusts him more than a charge of sanctimoni- ousness, while it takes all his wildest pranks and funniest grima- ces, to-hide his sober and chastening lineaments. We have read -his three books-the very titles of which oil the risibles for im- mediate use, and which are full of extravaganza,'wit, satire, fun -without one hearty laugh, nay, with as serious a heart as we read many of the best chapters in D~on Quixote, or the queerest papers in Elia-with such a sense of the deep earnest, the sad or bitter truth under the jokes, that. the medicine outsavors the syrup, and compels our thoughtfulness instead of moving our mirth. When we see what a burden of weighty thought and feeling the author carries, we cannot help wishing that the rich scholarship, cunning Wit, and felicitous phraseology he possesses Were employed in a more direct manner, to Adorn and point and urge his wisdom. * Fun and Earnest is own brother to the two preceding volumes, but we confess we like him better than the other members of the . family. The same protest against the follies and falsities -of soci- ety,; the same plea for charity towards human -frailties ; the same lash for cant and excess; the same plucking off of' the disguises of pseudo-philanthropy ; the same check-rlein on too ardent hopes, we observe in all the volumes. But we seem to find a finer feli- city of phrase, a richer freight of thought, a more careful schol- arship in "'Fun and Earnest,"' than in the ''Musings," or the ''Fancies." The imaginary conversations of Walter Savage Landor are un.- approachable in the serious line ; but we never saw anything so good in thie comic way as our author's classical dialogues, and Athenian and Roman billet-doux! Among all his various papers, we select from the three volumes all of a classical sort, as of the first order of excellence in their kind, and sincerely wish the au- thor had given us one volume exclusively of this matter. I I I '1 1* - 8 page: 260 (Advertisement) -261 (Advertisement) [View Page 260 (Advertisement) -261 (Advertisement) ] 4 OPINIONS OF THE ,PRESS. It surprises us that it did not occur to the writer to make and entitle his last volumes CC Two Thousand Years Ago and to Come," for he clearly has a decided penchant for keeping at about that distance on either side of the present, in his satires on the life of the nineteenth century. This would have given a missing unity to his volume. With all our abatements, we shall not have conveyed our real mind or purpose in this notice, if our readers are not curious to see "Fun and Earnest" and its older brothers. We promise them no common banquet. Whatever faults these works have, they are "alive and kicking ;" they excite strong feelings; they do not make us laugh, but they make us think and admire; they may bring the broadest grins from faces differently constituted from ours; and they cannot fail to amuse, instruct, and reward all their readers.-N. Y. Christiam Imquirer.. FUN AND EARNEST.-Th~5 is the good title of a good b6ok, re- cently published in New York, by John S. Taylor, and having no other mark of parentage save that it is by the author of Musings of an Invalid, Fancies of a Whimsical Man, etc. Fun and Earnest is full of vigorous and most original thinking, and the reader has no difficulty in determ4iing when the writer is in earnest, or when the playful humor of his satiric and versa- tile pen deals with the comic muse. The Boston Letter, for insLnce, beginning at page 88, must be regarded as a spe- cimen ~f chaste and elevated writing, that would do no discredit to the clear and lofty mind of Edmund Burke, or even to the presupposed advancement of American taste and knowledge at the period at which our author has fictitiously assumed to be ~writing. His ambition and aim are high ones, and we are disposed to predict that, ere he has exercised his strong and classic intel- lect a few years more, his productions will have earned all the fame his best friends can desire for them. Criticism cannot do justicee to the varied and endless wit, good sense, and sound re- OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 5 buke that find utterance through the unbeaten track of our au- thor, and we do not here attempt to enumerate his subjects, or describe the manner in which they are handled. We have thus briefly called attention to these volumes, as having afforded us great pleasure, as well as useful instruction; and we recognize in much of their pungent 'satire-whether of fun or earnest~the best caustic for removing the unhealthy excrescences that grow upon our morals and our manners.-~Philadelrhia North American. REPRODUCED FROM THE COPY)$~ THE HENRY E. HUNTINGTON LiBRARY FO~ REFERENCE ONLY. NOT FOR REPRODUCTION There 'is more truth than poetry in this, and it's not all of the same sort in the book, either. It is full of fun and wit, and ear- nest enough, we hope, to attract the attention of the "Christian Banker," as well as others less given to "whimsicalities."-.~..Ghi cago Daily Journal. FUN AND EARNEST.-SUCh is the title of a volume lately pub- lished by John S. Taylor, 17 Ann-street. It was written by the author of Musings of an Invalid, Fancies of a Whimsical Mar), etc., and shows a continuance of the pungent~ and racy humor At I *1 * I I 4 I :iI II
