Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 9, No. 54, April, 1862 by Various

V >> Various >> Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 9, No. 54, April, 1862

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

[Footnote C: _Dengle-Geist_, literally, "Whetting-Spirit." The exact
meaning of _dengeln_ is to sharpen a scythe by hammering the edge of the
blade, which was practised before whetstones came in use.]

[Footnote D: According to an old legend, Fridolin (a favorite saint with
the Catholic population of the Black Forest) harnessed two young heifers
to a mighty fir-tree, and hauled it into the Rhine near Saeckingen,
thereby damming the river and forcing it to take a new course, on the
other side of the town.]

In this poem the hero of the story unconsciously describes himself by
his manner of telling it,--a reflective action of the dramatic faculty,
which Browning, among living poets, possesses in a marked degree. The
"moral" is so skilfully inwoven into the substance of the narrative as
to conceal the appearance of design, and the reader has swallowed the
pill before its sugar-coating of fancy has dissolved in his mouth. There
are few of Hebel's poems which were not written for the purpose of
inculcating some wholesome lesson, but in none does this object
prominently appear. Even where it is not merely implied, but directly
expressed, he contrives to give it the air of having been accidentally
suggested by the theme. In the following, which is the most pointedly
didactic of all his productions, the characteristic fancy still betrays
itself:--

THE GUIDE-POST.

D' ye know the road to th' bar'l o' flour?
At break o' day let down the bars,
And plough y'r wheat-field, hour by hour,
Till sundown,--yes, till shine o' stars.

You peg away, the livelong day,
Nor loaf about, nor gape around;
And that's the road to the thrashin'-floor,
And into the kitchen, I'll be bound!

D' ye know the road where dollars lays?
Follow the red cents, here and there:
For if a man leaves them, I guess,
He won't find dollars anywhere.

D' ye know the road to Sunday's rest?
Jist don't o' week-days be afeard;
In field and workshop do y'r best,
And Sunday comes itself, I've heerd.
On Saturdays it's not fur off,
And brings a basketful o' cheer,--
A roast, and lots o' garden-stuff,
And, like as not, a jug o' beer!

D' ye know the road to poverty?
Turn in at any tavern-sign:
Turn in,--it's temptin' as can be:
There's bran'-new cards and liquor fine.

In the last tavern there's a sack,
And, when the cash y'r pocket quits,
Jist hang the wallet on y'r back,--
You vagabond! see how it fits!

D' ye know what road to honor leads,
And good old age?--a lovely sight!
By way o' temperance, honest deeds,
And tryin' to do y'r dooty right.

And when the road forks, ary side,
And you're in doubt which one it is,
Stand still, and let y'r conscience guide:
Thank God, it can't lead much amiss!

And now, the road to church-yard gate
You needn't ask! Go anywhere!
For, whether roundabout or straight,
All roads, at last, 'll bring you there.

Go, fearin' God, but lovin' more!--
I've tried to be an honest guide,--
You'll find the grave has got a door,
And somethin' for you t'other side.

We could linger much longer over our simple, brave old poet, were we
sure of the ability of the reader approximately to distinguish his
features through the veil of translation. In turning the leaves of the
smoky book, with its coarse paper and rude type,--which suggests to us,
by-the-by, the fact that Hebel was accustomed to hang a book, which he
wished especially to enjoy, in the chimney, for a few days,--we are
tempted by "The Market-Women in Town," by "The Mother on Christmas-Eve,"
"The Morning-Star," and the charming fairy-story of "Riedliger's
Daughter," but must be content to close our specimens, for the present,
with a song of love,--"_Hans und Verene_,"--under the equivalent title
of

JACK AND MAGGIE.

There's only one I'm after,
And she's the one, I vow!
If she was here, and standin' by,
She is a gal so neat and spry,
So neat and spry,
I'd be in glory now!

It's so,--I'm hankerin' for her,
And want to have her, too.
Her temper's always gay, and bright,
Her face like posies red and white,
Both red and white,
And eyes like posies blue.

And when I see her comin',
My face gits red at once;
My heart feels chokin'-like, and weak,
And drops o' sweat run down my cheek,
Yes, down my cheek,--
Confound me for a dunce!

She spoke so kind, last Tuesday,
When at the well we met:
"Jack, give a lift! What ails you? Say!
I see that somethin' 's wrong to-day:
What's wrong to-day?"
No, that I can't forget!

I know I'd ought to tell her,
And wish I'd told her then;
And if I wasn't poor and low,
And sayin' it didn't choke me so,
(It chokes me so,)
I'd find a chance again.

Well, up and off I'm goin':
She's in the field below:
I'll try and let her know my mind;
And if her answer isn't kind,
If 't isn't kind,
I'll jine the ranks, and go!

I'm but a poor young fellow,
Yes, poor enough, no doubt:
But ha'n't, thank God, done nothin' wrong,
And be a man as stout and strong,
As stout and strong,
As any roundabout.

What's rustlin' in the bushes?
I see a movin' stalk:
The leaves is openin': there's a dress!
O Lord, forbid it! but I guess--
I guess--I guess
Somebody's heard me talk!

"Ha! here I am! you've got me!
So keep me, if you can!
I've guessed it ever since last Fall,
And Tuesday morn I saw it all,
_I_ saw it all!
Speak out, then, like a man!

"Though rich you a'n't in money,
Nor rich in goods to sell,
An honest heart is more than gold,
And hands you've got for field and fold,
For house and fold,
And--Jack--I love you well!"

"O Maggie, say it over!
O Maggie, is it so?
I couldn't longer bear the doubt:
'Twas hell,--but now you've drawed me out,
You've drawed me out!
And will I? _Won't_ I, though!"

The later years of Hebel's life quietly passed away in the circle of his
friends at Carlsruhe. After the peculiar mood which called forth the
Alemannic poems had passed away, he seems to have felt no further
temptation to pursue his literary success. His labors, thenceforth, were
chiefly confined to the preparation of a Biblical History, for schools,
and the editing of the "Rhenish House-Friend," an illustrated calendar
for the people, to which he gave a character somewhat similar to that of
Franklin's "Poor Richard." His short, pithy narratives, each with its
inevitable, though unobtrusive moral, are models of style. The calendar
became so popular, under his management, that forty thousand copies were
annually printed. He finally discontinued his connection with it, in
1819, in consequence of an interference with his articles on the part of
the censor.

In society Hebel was a universal favorite. Possessing, in his personal
appearance, no less than in his intellect, a marked individuality, he
carried a fresh, vital, inspiring element into every company which he
visited. His cheerfulness was inexhaustible, his wit keen and lambent
without being acrid, his speech clear, fluent, and genial, and his fund
of anecdote commensurate with his remarkable narrative power. He was
exceedingly frank, joyous, and unconstrained in his demeanor; fond of
the pipe and the beer-glass; and as one of his maxims was, "Not to close
any door through which Fortune might enter," he not only occasionally
bought a lottery-ticket, but was sometimes to be seen, during the
season, at the roulette-tables of Baden-Baden. One of his friends
declares, however, that he never obtruded "the clergyman" at
inappropriate times!

In person he was of medium height, with a body of massive Teutonic
build, a large, broad head, inclined a little towards one shoulder, the
eyes small, brown, and mischievously sparkling, the hair short, crisp,
and brown, the nose aquiline, and the mouth compressed, with the
commencement of a smile stamped in the corners. He was careless in
his gait, and negligent in his dress. Warm-hearted and tender, and
especially attracted towards women and children, the cause of his
celibacy always remained a mystery to his friends.

The manner of his death, finally, illustrated the genuine humanity of
his nature. In September, 1826, although an invalid at the time, he made
a journey to Mannheim for the sake of procuring a mitigation of the
sentence of a condemned poacher, whose case appealed strongly to his
sympathy. His exertions on behalf of the poor man so aggravated his
disease that he was soon beyond medical aid. Only his corpse, crowned
with laurel, returned to Carlsruhe. Nine years afterwards a monument was
erected to his memory in the park attached to the Ducal palace. Nor have
the inhabitants of the Black Forest failed in worthy commemoration of
their poet's name. A prominent peak among the mountains which inclose
the valley of his favorite "Meadow" has been solemnly christened
"Hebel's Mount"; and a flower of the Forest--the _Anthericum_ of
Linnaeus--now figures in German botanies as the _Hebelia Alemannica_.

THE FORESTER.

Then bless thy secret growth, nor catch
At noise, but thrive unseen and dumb,
Keep clean, bear fruit, earn life, and watch
Till the white-winged reapers come.--Henry Vaughan

I had never thought of knowing a man so thoroughly of the country as
this friend of mine, and so purely a son of Nature. Perhaps he has
the profoundest passion for it of any one living; and had the human
sentiment been as tender from the first, and as pervading, we might have
had pastorals of which Virgil and Theocritus would have envied him the
authorship, had they chanced to be his contemporaries. As it is, he has
come nearer the antique spirit than any of our native poets, and touched
the fields and groves and streams of his native town with a classic
interest that shall not fade. Some of his verses are suffused with an
elegiac tenderness, as if the woods and fields bewailed the absence
of their forester, and murmured their griefs meanwhile to one
another,--responsive like idyls. Living in close companionship with
Nature, his Muse breathes the spirit and voice of poetry; his excellence
lying herein: for when the heart is once divorced from the senses and
all sympathy with common things, then poetry has fled, and the love that
sings.

The most welcome of companions, this plain countryman. One shall not
meet with thoughts invigorating like his often; coming so scented of
mountain and field breezes and rippling springs, so like a luxuriant
clod from under forest-leaves, moist and mossy with earth-spirits. His
presence is tonic, like ice-water in dog-days to the parched citizen
pent in chambers and under brazen ceilings. Welcome as the gurgle of
brooks, the dripping of pitchers,--then drink and be cool! He seems one
with things, of Nature's essence and core, knit of strong timbers, most
like a wood and its inhabitants. There are in him sod and shade, woods
and waters manifold, the mould and mist of earth and sky. Self-poised
and sagacious as any denizen of the elements, he has the key to every
animal's brain, every plant, every shrub; and were an Indian to flower
forth, and reveal the secrets hidden in his cranium, it would not be
more surprising than the speech of our Sylvanus. He must belong to the
Homeric age,--is older than pastures and gardens, as if he were of the
race of heroes, and one with the elements. He, of all men, seems to be
the native New-Englander, as much so as the oak, the granite ledge, our
best sample of an indigenous American, untouched by the Old Country,
unless he came down from Thor, the Northman; as yet unfathered by any,
and a nondescript in the books of natural history.

A peripatetic philosopher, and out of doors for the best parts of his
days and nights, he has manifold weather and seasons in him, and the
manners of an animal of probity and virtues unstained. Of our moralists
he seems the wholesomest; and the best republican citizen in the
world,--always at home, and minding his own affairs. Perhaps a little
over-confident sometimes, and stiffly individual, dropping society clean
out of his theories, while standing friendly in his strict sense of
friendship, there is in him an integrity and sense of justice that make
possible and actual the virtues of Sparta and the Stoics, and all the
more welcome to us in these times of shuffling and of pusillanimity.
Plutarch would have made him immortal in his pages, had he lived before
his day. Nor have we any so modern as be,--his own and ours; too purely
so to be appreciated at once. A scholar by birthright, and an author,
his fame has not yet travelled far from the banks of the rivers he has
described in his books; but I hazard only the truth in affirming of his
prose, that in substance and sense it surpasses that of any naturalist
of his time, and that he is sure of a reading in the future. There are
fairer fishes in his pages than any now swimming in our streams, and
some sleep of his on the banks of the Merrimack by moonlight that Egypt
never rivalled; a morning of which Memnon might have envied the music,
and a greyhound that was meant for Adonis; some frogs, too, better than
any of Aristophanes. Perhaps we have had no eyes like his since Pliny's
time. His senses seem double, giving him access to secrets not easily
read by other men: his sagacity resembling that of the beaver and the
bee, the dog and the deer; an instinct for seeing and judging, as by
some other or seventh sense, dealing with objects as if they were
shooting forth from his own mind mythologically, thus completing Nature
all round to his senses, and a creation of his at the moment. I am sure
he knows the animals, one by one, and everything else knowable in our
town, and has named them rightly as Adam did in Paradise, if he be
not that ancestor himself. His works are pieces of exquisite sense,
celebrations of Nature's virginity, exemplified by rare learning and
original observations. Persistently independent and manly, he criticizes
men and times largely, urging and defending his opinions with the spirit
and pertinacity befitting a descendant of him of the Hammer. A head
of mixed genealogy like his, Franco-Norman crossed by Scottish and
New-England descent, may be forgiven a few characteristic peculiarities
and trenchant traits of thinking, amidst his great common sense and
fidelity to the core of natural things. Seldom has a head circumscribed
so much of the sense of Cosmos as this footed intelligence,--nothing
less than all out-of-doors sufficing his genius and scopes, and, day by
day, through all weeks and seasons, the year round.

If one would find the wealth of wit there is in this plain man, the
information, the sagacity, the poetry, the piety, let him take a walk
with him, say of a winter's afternoon, to the Blue Water, or anywhere
about the outskirts of his village-residence. Pagan as he shall
outwardly appear, yet he soon shall be seen to be the hearty worshipper
of whatsoever is sound and wholesome in Nature,--a piece of russet
probity and sound sense that she delights to own and honor. His talk
shall be suggestive, subtile, and sincere, under as many masks and
mimicries as the shows he passes, and as significant,--Nature choosing
to speak through her chosen mouth-piece,--cynically, perhaps, sometimes,
and searching into the marrows of men and times he chances to speak of,
to his discomfort mostly, and avoidance. Nature, poetry, life,--not
politics, not strict science, not society as it is,--are his preferred
themes: the new Pantheon, probably, before he gets far, to the naming of
the gods some coming Angelo, some Pliny, is to paint and describe. The
world is holy, the things seen symbolizing the Unseen, and worthy of
worship so, the Zoroastrian rites most becoming a nature so fine as ours
in this thin newness, this worship being so sensible, so promotive of
possible pieties,--calling us out of doors and under the firmament,
where health and wholesomeness are finely insinuated into our
souls,--not as idolaters, but as idealists, the seekers of the Unseen
through images of the Invisible.

I think his religion of the most primitive type, and inclusive of all
natural creatures and things, even to "the sparrow that falls to the
ground,"--though never by shot of his,--and, for whatsoever is manly
in man, his worship may compare with that of the priests and heroes
of pagan times. Nor is he false to these traits under any
guise,--worshipping at unbloody altars, a favorite of the Unseen,
Wisest, and Best. Certainly he is better poised and more nearly
self-reliant than other men.

Perhaps he deals best with matter, properly, though very adroitly with
mind, with persons, as he knows them best, and sees them from Nature's
circle, wherein he dwells habitually. I should say he inspired the
sentiment of love, if, indeed, the sentiment he awakens did not seem to
partake of a yet purer sentiment, were that possible,--but nameless from
its excellency. Friendly he is, and holds his friends by bearings as
strict in their tenderness and consideration as are the laws of his
thinking,--as prompt and kindly equitable,--neighborly always, and as
apt for occasions as he is strenuous against meddling with others in
things not his.

I know of nothing more creditable to his greatness than the thoughtful
regard, approaching to reverence, by which he has held for many years
some of the best persons of his time, living at a distance, and wont
to make their annual pilgrimage, usually on foot, to the master,--a
devotion very rare in these times of personal indifference, if not of
confessed unbelief in persons and ideas.

He has been less of a housekeeper than most, has harvested more wind and
storm, sun and sky; abroad night and day with his leash of keen scents,
bounding any game stirring, and running it down, for certain, to be
spread on the dresser of his page, and served as a feast to the sound
intelligences, before he has done with it. We have been accustomed to
consider him the salt of things so long that they must lose their savor
without his to season them. And when he goes hence, then Pan is dead,
and Nature ailing throughout.

His friend sings him thus, with the advantages of his Walden to show him
in Nature:--

"It is not far beyond the Village church,
After we pass the wood that skirts the road,
A Lake,--the blue-eyed Walden, that doth smile
Most tenderly upon its neighbor Pines;
And they, as if to recompense this love,
In double beauty spread their branches forth.
This Lake has tranquil loveliness and breadth,
And, of late years, has added to its charms;
For one attracted to its pleasant edge
Has built himself a little Hermitage,
Where with much piety he passes life.

"More fitting place I cannot fancy now,
For such a man to let the line run off
The mortal reel,--such patience hath the Lake,
Such gratitude and cheer is in the Pines.
But more than either lake or forest's depths
This man has in himself: a tranquil man,
With sunny sides where well the fruit is ripe,
Good front and resolute bearing to this life,
And some serener virtues, which control
This rich exterior prudence,--virtues high,
That in the principles of Things are set,
Great by their nature, and consigned to him,
Who, like a faithful Merchant, does account
To God for what he spends, and in what way.
Thrice happy art thou, Walden, in thyself!
Such purity is in thy limpid springs,--
In those green shores which do reflect in thee,
And in this man who dwells upon thy edge,
A holy man within a Hermitage.
May all good showers fall gently into thee,
May thy surrounding forests long be spared,
And may the Dweller on thy tranquil marge
There lead a life of deep tranquillity,
Pure as thy Waters, handsome as thy Shores,
And with those virtues which are like the Stars!"

METHODS OF STUDY IN NATURAL HISTORY.

VII.

I come now to an obscure part of my subject, very difficult to present
in a popular form, and yet so important in the scientific investigations
of our day that I cannot omit it entirely. I allude to what are called
by naturalists Collateral Series or Parallel Types. These are by
no means difficult to trace, because they are connected by seeming
resemblances, which, though very likely to mislead and perplex the
observer, yet naturally suggest the association of such groups. Let me
introduce the subject with the statement of some facts.

There are in Australia numerous Mammalia, occupying the same relation
and answering the same purposes as the Mammalia of other countries. Some
of them are domesticated by the natives, and serve them with meat, milk,
wool, as our domesticated animals serve us. Representatives of almost
all types, Wolves, Foxes, Sloths, Bears, Weasels, Martens, Squirrels,
Rats, etc., are found there; and yet, though all these animals resemble
ours so closely that the English settlers have called many of them by
the same names, there are no genuine Wolves, Foxes, Sloths, Bears,
Weasels, Martens, Squirrels, or Rats in Australia. The Australian
Mammalia are peculiar to the region where they are found, and are all
linked together by two remarkable structural features which distinguish
them from all other Mammalia and unite them under one head as the
so-called Marsupials. They bring forth their young in an imperfect
condition, and transfer them to a pouch, where they remain attached to
the teats of the mother till their development is as far advanced as
that of other Mammalia at the time of their birth; and they are further
characterized by an absence of that combination of transverse fibres
forming the large bridge which unites the two hemispheres of the brain
in all the other members of their class. Here, then, is a series of
animals parallel with ours, separated from them by anatomical features,
but so united with them by form and external features that many among
them have been at first associated together.

This is what Cuvier has called subordination of characters,
distinguishing between characters that control the organization and
those that are not essentially connected with it. The skill of the
naturalist consists in detecting the difference between the two, so
that he may not take the more superficial features as the basis of his
classification, instead of those important ones which, though often less
easily recognized, are more deeply rooted in the organization. It is a
difference of the same nature as that between affinity and analogy, to
which I have alluded before, when speaking of the ingrafting of certain
features of one type upon animals of another type, thus producing a
superficial resemblance, not truly characteristic. In the Reptiles, for
instance, there are two groups,--those devoid of scales, with naked
skin, laying numerous eggs, but hatching their young in an imperfect
state, and the Scaly Reptiles, which lay comparatively few eggs, but
whose young, when hatched, are completely developed, and undergo no
subsequent metamorphosis. Yet, notwithstanding this difference in
essential features of structure, and in the mode of reproduction and
development, there is such an external resemblance between certain
animals belonging to the two groups that they were associated together
even by so eminent a naturalist as Linnaeus. Compare, for instance, the
Serpents among the Scaly Reptiles with the Caecilians among the Naked
Reptiles. They have the same elongated form, and are both destitute
of limbs; the head in both is on a level with the body, without any
contraction behind it, such as marks the neck in the higher Reptiles,
and moves only by the action of the back-bone; they are singularly alike
in their external features, but the young of the Serpent are hatched in
a mature condition, while the young of the type to which the Caecilians
belong undergo a succession of metamorphoses before attaining to a
resemblance to the parent. Or compare the Lizard and the Salamander, in
which the likeness is perhaps even more striking; for any inexperienced
observer would mistake one for the other. Both are superior to the
Serpents and Caecilians, for in them the head moves freely on the neck
and they creep on short imperfect legs. But the Lizard is clothed with
scales, while the body of the Salamander is naked, and the young of
the former is complete when hatched, while the Tadpole born from the
Salamander has a life of its own to live, with certain changes to pass
through before it assumes its mature condition; during the early part of
its life it is even destitute of legs, and has gills like the Fishes.
Above the Lizards and Salamanders, highest in the class of Reptiles,
stand two other collateral types,--the Turtles at the head of the Scaly
Reptiles, the Toads and Frogs at the Lead of the Naked Reptiles. The
external likeness between these two groups is perhaps less striking than
between those mentioned above, on account of the large shield of the
Turtle. But there are Turtles with a soft covering, and there are some
Toads with a hard shield over the head and neck at least, and both
groups are alike distinguished by the shortness and breadth of the body
and by the greater development of the limbs as compared with the lower
Reptiles. But here again there is the same essential difference in the
mode of development of their young as distinguishes all the rest. The
two series may thus be contrasted:--

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19