Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 3, No. 18, April, 1859 by Various

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Then, again, consider the fact that our lungs were created to consume
oxygen. I suppose that never in your life, Dolorosus, did those
breathing organs of yours inhale more than one half the quantity of air
that they were intended to take in,--to say nothing of its quality. Yet
one would think, that, in the present high prices of other food, you
would make the most of the only thing you can put into your mouth
gratis. Here is Nature constantly urging on us an unexceptionable
atmosphere forty miles high,--for if a pressure of fourteen pounds to
the square inch is not to be called urging, what is?--and yet we not
only neglect, but resist the favor. Our children commonly learn to spell
much better than they ever learn to breathe, because much more attention
is paid to the former department of culture. Indeed, the materials are
better provided; spelling-books are abundant; but we scarcely allow them
time, in the intervals of school, to seek fresh air out of doors, and
we sedulously exclude it from our houses and school-rooms. Is it
not possible to impress upon your mind the changes which "modern
improvements" are bringing upon us? In times past, if a gentleman
finished the evening with a quiet cigar in his parlor, (a practice I
deprecate, and introduce only for purposes of scientific illustration,)
not a trace of it ever lingered to annoy his wife at the
breakfast-table; showing that the draft up the open chimney had wholly
disposed of it, the entire atmosphere of the room being changed during
the night. Now, on the other hand, every whiff lingers persistently
beside the domestic altar, and betrays to the youngest child, next
day, the parental weakness. For the sake of family example, Dolorosus,
correct this state of things, and put in a ventilator. Our natures will
not adapt themselves to this abstinence from fresh air, until Providence
shall fit us up with new bodies, having no lungs in them. Did you ever
hear of Dr. Lyne, the eccentric Irish physician? Dr. Lyne held that no
house was wholesome, unless a dog could get in under every door and a
bird fly out at every window. He even went so far as to build his house
with the usual number of windows, and no glass in the sashes; he lived
in that house for fifty years, reared a large family there, and no death
ever occurred in it. He himself died away from home, of small-pox, at
eighty; his son immediately glazed all the windows of the house, and
several of the family died within the first year of the alteration. The
story sounds apocryphal, I own, though I did not get it from Sir Jonah
Barrington, but somewhere in the scarcely less amusing pages of Sir John
Sinclair. I will not advise you, my unfortunate sufferer, to break every
pane of glass in your domicile, though I have no doubt that Nathaniel
and his boy-companions would enter with enthusiasm into the process; I
am not fond of extremes; but you certainly might go so far as to take
the nails out of my bed-room windows, and yet keep a good deal this side
the Lyne.

I hardly dare go on to speak of exercise, lest I should share the
reproach of that ancient rhetorician who,--as related by Plutarch, in
his Aphorisms,--after delivering an oration in praise of Hercules, was
startled by the satirical inquiry from his audience, whether any one
had ever dispraised Hercules. As with Hercules, so with the physical
activity he represents,--no one dispraises, if few practise it. Even
the disagreement of doctors has brought out but little skepticism on
this point. Cardan, it is true, in his treatise, "Plantae cur Animalibus
diuturniores," maintained that trees lived longer than men because
they never stirred from their places. Exercise, he held, increases
transpiration; transpiration shortens life; to live long, then, we need
only remain perfectly still. Lord Bacon fell in with this fancy, and
advised "oily unctions," to prevent perspiration. Maupertuis went
farther, and proposed to keep the body covered with pitch for this
purpose: conceive, Dolorosus, of spending threescore years and ten in
a garment of tar, without even the ornament of feathers, sitting
tranquilly in our chairs, waiting for longevity! In more recent times,
I can remember only Dr. Darwin as an advocate of sedentary living. He
attempted to show its advantages by the healthy longevity attained by
quiet old ladies in country-towns. But this is questioned by his critic,
Dr. Beddoes, who admits the longevity, but denies the healthiness;
he maintains that the old ladies are taking some new medicine every
day,--at least, if they have a physician who understands his business.

Now I will not maintain, with Frederick the Great, that all our systems
of education are wrong, because they aim to make men students or clerks,
whereas the mere shape of the body shows (so thought King Frederick)
that we are primarily designed for postilions, and should spend most of
our lives on horseback. But it is very certain that all the physical
universe takes the side of health and activity, wooing us forth into
Nature, imploring us hourly, and in unsuspected ways, to receive her
blessed breath into body and soul, and share in her eternal youth. For
this are summer and winter, seedtime and harvest, given; for this do
violet and bloodroot come, and gentian and witch-hazel go; for this do
changing sunsets make yon path between the pines a gateway into heaven;
for this does day shut us down within the loneliness of its dome of
light, and night, lifting it, make us free of the vast fellowship of
stars; for this do pale meteors wander nightly, soft as wind-blown
blossoms, down the air; for this do silent snows transform the winter
woods to feathery things, that seem too light to linger, and yet too
vast to take their flight; for this does the eternal ocean follow its
queen with patient footsteps round earth's human shores; for this does
all the fair creation answer to every dream or mood of man, so that we
receive but what we give;--all is offered to us, to call us from our
books and our trade, and summon us into Nature's health and joy. To
study, with the artist, the least of her beauties,--to explore, with the
man of science, the smallest of her wonders,--or even simply to wander
among her exhaustless resources, like a child, needing no interest
unborrowed from the eye,--this feeds body and brain and heart and soul
together.

But I see that your attention is wandering a little, Dolorosus, and
perhaps I ought not to be surprised. I think I hear you respond,
impatiently, in general terms, that you are not "sentimental." I admit
it; never within my memory did you err on that side. You also hint that
you never _did_ care much about weeds or bugs. The phrases are not
scientific, but the opinion is intelligible. Perhaps my ardor has
carried me too fast for my audience. While it would be a pleasure, no
doubt, to see you transformed into an artist or a _savant_, yet that is
scarcely to be expected, and, if attained, might not be quite enough.
The studies of the naturalist, exclusively pursued, may tend to make a
man too conscious and critical,--patronizing Nature, instead of enjoying
her. He may even grow morbidly sensitive, like Buffon, who became so
impressed with the delicacy and mystery of the human organization, that
he was afraid to stoop even to pick up his own pen, when dropped, but
called a servant to restore it. The artist, also, becomes often narrowed
and petty, and regards the universe as a sort of factory, arranged to
turn out "good bits of color" for him. Something is needed to make us
more free and unconscious, in our out-door lives, than these too wise
individuals; and that something is best to be found in athletic sports.
It was a genuine impulse which led Sir Humphrey Davy to care more for
fishing than even for chemistry, and made Byron prouder of his swimming
than of "Childe Harold," and induced Sir Robert Walpole always to open
his gamekeeper's letters first, and his diplomatic correspondence
afterwards. Athletic sports are "boyish," are they? Then they are
precisely what we want. We Americans certainly do not have much boyhood
under the age of twenty, and we must take it afterwards or not at all.

Who can describe the unspeakable refreshment for an overworked brain,
of laying aside all cares, and surrendering one's self to simple bodily
activity? Laying them aside! I retract the expression; they slip off
unnoticed. You cannot embark care in your wherry; there is no room for
the odious freight. Care refuses to sit behind the horseman, despite the
Latin sentence; you leave it among your garments when you plunge into
the river, it rolls away from the rolling cricket-ball, the first whirl
in the gymnasium disposes of it, and you are left free, as boys and
birds are free. If athletic amusements did nothing for the body, they
would still be medicine for the soul. Nay, it is Plato who says
that exercise will almost cure a guilty conscience,--and can we be
indifferent to this, my fellow-sinner?

Why will you persist in urging that you "cannot afford" these
indulgences, as you call them? They are not indulgences,--they are
necessaries. Charge them, in your private account-book, under the heads
of food and clothing, and as a substitute for your present enormous
items under the head of medicine. O mistaken economist! can you afford
the cessation of labor and the ceaseless drugging and douching of your
last few years? Did not all your large experience in the retail-business
teach you the comparative value of the ounce of prevention and the pound
of cure? Are not fresh air and cold water to be had cheap? and is not
good bread less costly than cake and pies? Is not the gymnasium a more
economical institution than the hospital? and is not a pair of skates a
good investment, if it aids you to elude the grasp of the apothecary? Is
the cow Pepsin, on the whole, a more frugal hobby to ride than a good
saddle-horse? Besides, if you insist upon pecuniary economy, do begin
by economizing on the exercise which you pay others for taking in your
stead,--on the corn and pears which you buy in the market, instead of
removing to a suburban house and raising them yourself,--and in the
reluctant silver you pay the Irishman who splits your wood. Or if,
suddenly reversing your line of argument, you plead that this would
impoverish the Irishman, you can at least treat him as you do the
organ-grinder, and pay him an extra fee to go on to your next neighbor.

Dolorosus, there is something very noble, if you could but discover it,
in a perfect human body. In spite of all our bemoaning, the physical
structure of man displays its due power and beauty when we consent to
give it a fair chance. On the cheek of every healthy child that plays in
the street, though clouded by all the dirt that ever incrusted a young
O'Brien or M'Cafferty, there is a glory of color such as no artist ever
painted. I can take you to-morrow into a circus or a gymnasium, and show
you limbs and attitudes which are worth more study than the Apollo or
the Antinous, because they are life, not marble. How noble were Horatio
Greenough's meditations, in presence of the despised circus-rider! "I
worship, when I see this brittle form borne at full speed on the back
of a fiery horse, yet dancing as on the quiet ground, and smiling in
conscious safety."

I admit that this view, like every other, may be carried to excess.
We can hardly expect to correct our past neglect of bodily training,
without falling into reactions and extremes, in the process. There is
our friend Jones, for instance, "the Englishman," as the boys on the
Common call him, from his cheery portliness of aspect. He is the man who
insisted on keeping the telegraph-office open until 2, A.M., to hear
whether Morrissey or the Benicia Boy won the prize-fight. I cannot say
much for his personal conformity to his own theories at present, for he
is growing rather too stout; but he likes vicarious exercise, and is
doing something for the next generation, even if he does make the club
laugh, sometimes, by advancing theories of training which the lower
circumference of his own waistcoat does not seem to justify. But
Charley, his eldest, can ride, shoot, and speak the truth, like an
ancient Persian; he is the best boxer in college, and is now known to
have gone to Canada _incog._, during the vacation, under the immediate
supervision of Morris, the teacher of sparring, to see that same fight.
It is true that the youth blushes, now, whenever that trip is alluded
to; and when he was cross-questioned by his pet sister Kate, (Kate
Coventry she delights to be called,) as to whether it wasn't "splendid,"
he hastily told her that she didn't know what she was talking about,
(which was undoubtedly true,)--and that he wished he didn't, either. The
truth is, that Charley, with his honest, boyish face, must have been
singularly out of place among that brutal circle; and there is little
doubt that he retired from the company before the set-to was fairly
begun, and that respectable old Morris went with him. But, at any rate,
they are a noble-looking family, and well brought up. Charley, with all
his pugilism, stands fair for a part at Commencement, they say; and
if you could have seen little Kate teaching her big cousin to skate
backwards, at Jamaica Pond, last February, it would have reminded you
of the pretty scene of the little cadet attitudinising before the great
Formes, in "Figaro." The whole family incline in the same direction;
even Laura, the elder sister,--who is attending a course of lectures on
Hygiene, and just at present sits motionless for half an hour before
every meal for her stomach's sake, and again a whole hour afterwards for
her often (imaginary) infirmities,--even Laura is a perfect Hebe in
health and bloom, and saved herself and her little sister when the boat
upset, last summer, at Dove Harbor,--while the two young men who were
with them had much ado to secure their own elegant persons, without
rendering much aid to the girls. And when I think, Dolorosus, of this
splendid animal vigor of the race of Jones, and then call to mind the
melancholy countenances of your forlorn little offspring, I really think
that it would, on the whole, be unsafe to trust you with that revolver;
you might be tempted to damage yourself or somebody else with it, before
departing for the Rocky Mountains.

Do not think me heartless for what I say, or assume, that, because I
happen to be healthy myself, I have no mercy for ill-health in others.
There are invalids who are objects of sympathy indeed, guiltless heirs
of ancestral disease, or victims of parental folly or sin,--those whose
lives are early blighted by maladies that seem as causeless as they are
cureless,--or those with whom the world has dealt so cruelly that all
their delicate nature is like sweet bells jangled,--or those whose
powers of life are all exhausted by unnoticed labors and unseen
cares,--or those prematurely old with duties and dangers, heroes of
thought and action, whose very names evoke the passion and the pride of
a hundred thousand hearts. There is a tottering feebleness of old age,
also, nobler than any prime of strength; we all know aged men who are
floating on, in stately serenity, towards their last harbor, like
Turner's Old Temeraire, with quiet tides around them, and the blessed
sunset bathing in loveliness all their dying day. Let human love do its
gracious work upon all these; let angelic hands of women wait upon
their lightest needs, and every voice of salutation be tuned to such a
sweetness as if it whispered beside a dying mother's bed.

But you, Dolorosus,--you, to whom God gave youth and health, and who
might have kept them, the one long and the other perchance always, but
who never loved them, nor reverenced them, nor cherished them, only
coined them into money till they were all gone, and even the ill-gotten
treasure fell from your debilitated hands,--you, who shunned the
sunshine as if it were sin, and called all innocent recreation time
wasted,--you, who staid under ground in your goldmine, like the
sightless fishes of the Mammoth Cave, till you were as blind and
unjoyous as they,--what plea have you to make, what shelter to claim,
except that charity which suffereth long and is kind? We will strive
not to withhold it; while there is life, there is hope. At forty, it is
said, every man is a fool or a physician. We will wait and see which
vocation you select as your own, for the broken remnant of your days.

* * * * *

THE UTAH EXPEDITION:

ITS CAUSES AND CONSEQUENCES.

[Continued.]

In the mean while Congress had assembled. The agitation on the subject
of Slavery, far from being suppressed, or even overshadowed, burned more
fiercely than ever before. The Pro-slavery faction in Kansas, stimulated
by the constant support of the National Administration, was engaged in a
final effort to maintain a supremacy over the affairs of that Territory
which the current of immigration from the Free States had been steadily
undermining. Against the will of nine-tenths of the population, it had
framed, with a show of technical legality, a Constitution intended to
perpetuate Slavery, which the Administration indorsed and presented to
Congress with an urgent recommendation for the admission under it
of Kansas as a State. In the commotion which these events excited
throughout the country, the transient gleam of importance which had
attached to the Mormon War was almost extinguished. The people of the
States no longer felt a much more vital interest in news from that
remote region than in tidings from the rebellion in India or of the wars
in China. Their attention, sympathies, and curiosity--were all fastened
upon the action of Congress with respect to Kansas,--for therein, it was
believed, were contained the germs of the political combinations for
the Presidential election of 1860. The same listlessness with regard to
affairs in Utah pervaded the Cabinet. All its _prestige_ was staked on
the result of the impending struggle in the House of Representatives
over the Lecompton Constitution, and its energies were abstracted from
every other subject, to be concentrated upon that alone.

Just at this time, Mr. Thomas L. Kane, of Pennsylvania,--son of the late
Judge of the United States District Court for that State, and brother of
the late Dr. Kane, the Arctic explorer,--solicited the Administration
for employment as a mediator between the Mormons and the Federal
Government. Mr. Kane was one of the few persons of education and social
standing who were well acquainted with Mormon history. He had visited
them at Winter Quarters, in Iowa, during their exodus from Nauvoo, in
the capacity of a commissioner to enlist the Mormon battalion which
served in the Mexican War. During an illness which attacked him there,
he was treated with an unremitting kindness, for which his gratitude
has been proportionate. Belonging to a family whose members have
been distinguished by strong traits of individuality, not to say
eccentricity, from that moment forward he displayed a practical interest
in the welfare of the sect. It is said that he became a convert to the
religious doctrines of Mormonism. Whether this be true at all, and,
if so, to what extent, it would he profitless at the present time to
inquire. For the purposes of this narrative, it is sufficient to assert
only, what is unchallenged, that he was a sincere admirer of the Mormons
as a people, and for a long series of years had defended them from
every reproach with a zeal which many of his friends thought inordinate.

Its experience in Kansas had familiarized the Cabinet with the use of
secret agents; but, nevertheless, the proposition of Mr. Kane was coldly
received. After a brief correspondence, he started for California, in
no capacity a representative of the government, if he himself is to be
believed, but bearing letters from Mr. Buchanan indorsing his character
as a gentleman, and exhorting Federal officials to render him such
courtesies as were within their power. Having arrived at San Francisco,
he journeyed southward to the lately abandoned Mormon settlement of
San Bernardino, near Los Angeles, travelling under the assumed name of
Osborne, and proclaiming his business to be the collection of specimens
for an entomological society in Philadelphia. There his real name and
purpose were detected, but he succeeded in obtaining transportation to
Salt Lake City, where he arrived on the 25th of February, 1858, and was
greeted by Young and Kimball, and the rest of the Mormon magnates, as an
old and cherished friend.

In the Annual Message of the President to Congress, his disposition to
make every other issue subordinate to that of admitting Kansas under the
Lecompton Constitution was manifest; and it influenced the tone of those
paragraphs which treated of affairs in Utah. Notwithstanding the fact
that the Mormons had committed every act of warfare against the United
States short of taking life, Mr. Buchanan qualified his language
concerning their conduct, stating, that, "unless Brigham Young should
retrace his steps, the Territory of Utah will be in a state of open
rebellion," but declining to accept the logical inference from his own
expression, that the rebellion was at the time open and manifest. He
recommended no further legislation concerning the matter than that four
regiments should be added to the army, to supply the place of those
which had been withdrawn from service in the East.

It was evident that the purpose for which he had originally planned the
expedition had failed. Forced, after all, no less by inclination than by
circumstances, into such a revival of Slavery agitation as he had never
contemplated during the interval between his election and inauguration,
the Utah War only incumbered his administration, promoting neither its
policy nor its prosperity. However it might result, it would not in the
least advance his interests; and it became his opinion, that, the sooner
it was quieted, the better for the welfare of the Democratic party,
which would be held responsible by the country for all mistakes in its
management. "After us the deluge," seemed to be adopted as the motto of
the entire policy of the Administration.

The only movement in Congress concerning Utah, before the New Year, was
the introduction into the House of Representatives, by Mr. Warren of
Arkansas, of a badly-worded resolution, prefaced by a worse-worded
preamble, looking to the expulsion from the floor of Mr. Bernhisel,
the Mormon delegate from the Territory. A lively discussion ensued
concerning the question of privilege under which Mr. Warren claimed the
right to introduce the resolution,--and when it was ruled in order, much
hesitation was evinced about adopting it, some members fearing that it
would establish a dangerous precedent for emergencies that might arise
in the future history of the country. The tone of debate showed that
there was little difference of opinion in the House concerning Utah
affairs,--the unanimity, however, being due in great part to ignorance
and indifference. The issue of Slavery in Kansas was absorbing. Mr.
Warren's resolution was referred to the Committee on Territories, and
slumbered upon their table through the whole session. The only other
movement in Congress, which deserves mention in this connection, was
the introduction, towards the close of January, by Senator Wilson of
Massachusetts, of a joint resolution authorizing the appointment of
commissioners to examine into the Mormon difficulties, "with a view to
their adjustment." This was referred by the Senate to the Committee on
Military Affairs, and was never heard of again.

The recommendation of the President for an increase of the army secured
favorable consideration from committees of both Houses, and the
discussion which ensued, upon the bills reported for that purpose, was
filled with allusions to the Utah question. Mr. Thompson of New York,
and Mr. Boyce of South Carolina, both made elaborate speeches on the
subject; but neither of them proposed any scheme for its solution. Such
a scheme, however, was suggested by Mr. Blair of Missouri, who advised
a reorganization of the Territorial government, in order to vest the
legislative power in the Governor and the Judges, for which a precedent
existed in the instance of the old Northwestern Territory; but no action
was had upon this suggestion. Through the entire debate, Mr. Bernhisel
remained silent. During the winter, the President conferred upon Colonel
Johnston the brevet rank of Brigadier-General, believing that the
uniform discretion he had manifested entitled him to promotion; and the
nomination was confirmed by the Senate.

While such were the transactions in Congress, the Mormons, in December,
had organized a government like that under which they had hitherto
subsisted. Their legislature--the same which had been elected under the
Organic Act of the Territory--met at Salt Lake City on the second Monday
of that month, in the hall of the Council House, and organized by the
choice of Heber C. Kimball as President of the Council and John Taylor
as Speaker of the House. Brigham Young retained the title and authority
of Governor, and addressed to the legislature the customary annual
message, reviewing the condition of the Territory. This document
was prepared in reality by Taylor, and was worded with considerable
ingenuity. Not the slightest allusion was made to the declarations of
independence that had been reiterated throughout the summer and autumn,
but the relations of Utah to the United States were discussed as those
of a Territory to the Union. The President was himself charged with
treason in his action towards the Mormons, the Governor and Judges whom
he had appointed were reviled as depraved and abandoned men, and the
army was again proclaimed a mob,--while Utah was lauded as the "most
loyal Territory known since the days of the Revolution." The theory of
Squatter-Sovereignty was the basis of the argument, and Mr. Buchanan was
accused, and with some reason, of inconsistency in his application of
that doctrine.

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