Part 9

2. But, though those unavoidable[289] calamities make a part, yet they make not the chief part, of the vexations and sorrows that distress human life. A multitude of evils beset[290] us, for the source of which we must look to another quarter. No sooner has any thing in the health or in the circumstances of men, gone cross[291] to their wish, than they begin to talk of the unequal distribution[292] of the good things of this life; they envy the condition of others; they repine[293] at their own lot, and fret against the Ruler of the world.

3. Full of these sentiments, one man pines under a broken constitution.[294] But let us ask him, whether he can fairly and honestly assign no cause for this but the unknown decree of Heaven? Has he duly valued the blessing of health, and always observed the rules of virtue and sobriety?[295] Has he been moderate in his life, and temperate in all his pleasures? If now he is only paying the price of his former, perhaps, his forgotten indulgences, has he any right to complain, as if he were suffering unjustly?

4. Were we to survey the chambers of sickness and distress, we should often find them peopled with the victims of intemperance and sensuality, and with the vicious children of indolence and sloth. Among the thousands who languish there, we should find the proportion of innocent sufferers to be small. We should see faded youth premature[296] old age, and the prospect of an untimely grave, to be the portion of multitudes who, in one way or other, have brought those evils on themselves; while yet these martyrs of vice and folly have the assurance to arraign[297] the hard fate of man, and to “fret against the Lord.”

5. But you, perhaps, complain of hardships of another kind; of the injustice of the world; of the poverty which you suffer, and the discouragements under which you labor; of the crosses and disappointments of which your life has been doomed to be full. Before you give too much scope to your discontent, let me desire you to reflect impartially upon your past train of life. Have not sloth, or pride, or ill-temper, or sinful passions, misled you often from the path of sound and wise conduct? Have you not been wanting to yourselves in improving those opportunities which Providence offered you, for bettering and advancing your state?

6. If you have chosen to indulge your humor or your taste, in the gratifications[298] of indolence and pleasure, can you complain because others, in preference to you, have obtained those advantages which naturally belong to useful labors and honorable pursuits. Have not the consequences of some false steps, into which your passions, or your pleasures, have betrayed you, pursued you through much of your life; tainted[299], perhaps, your character, involved[300] you in embarrassments[301], or sunk you into neglect?

7. It is an old saying, that every man is the artificer[302] of his own fortune in the world. It is certain, that the world seldom turns wholly against a man, unless through his own fault. “Religion is,” in general, “profitable unto all things.” Virtue, diligence, and industry, joined with good temper and prudence, have ever been found the surest road to prosperity; and, where men fail of attaining it, their want of success is far oftener owing to their having deviated from that road, than to their having encountered insuperable barriers in it.

8. Some by being too artful, forfeit the reputation of probity. Some, by being too open, are accounted to fail in prudence. Others, by being fickle and changeable, are distrusted by all. The case commonly is, that men seek to ascribe their disappointments to any cause, rather than to their own misconduct; and, when they can devise no other cause, they lay them to the charge of Providence. Their folly leads them into vices; their vices into misfortunes; and, in their misfortunes, they “murmur against Providence.”

9. They are doubly unjust toward their Creator. In their prosperity, they are apt to ascribe their success to their own diligence, rather than to His blessing; and, in their adversity, they impute their distresses to His providence, not to their own misbehavior. Whereas, the truth is the very reverse of this. Every good gift and every perfect gift cometh from above; and of evil and misery, man is the author to himself.

[286] CA-LAMˊ-I-TIES, misfortunes.

[287] AS-SIGNˊ-ED, given; specified.

[288] DIS-CUSSˊ, debate, reason on.

[289] UN-A-VOIDˊ-A-BLE, inevitable.

[290] BE-SETˊ, surround; besiege.

[291] CROSS, adverse; contrary.

[292] DIS-TRI-BUˊ-TION, dispensation.

[293] RE-PINEˊ, murmur.

[294] CON-STI-TUˊ-TION, corporeal frame.

[295] SO-BRIˊ-E-TY, temperance.

[296] PREˊ-MA-TURE, too early.

[297] AR-RAIGNˊ, call in question.

[298] GRAT-I-FI-CAˊ-TIONS, indulgences.

[299] TAINTˊ-ED, stained; corrupted.

[300] IN-VOLVˊ-ED, entangled.

[301] EM-BARˊ-RASS-MENT, perplexity.

[302] ART-IFˊ-I-CER, inventor.

XXXVI.—TRUE PATRIOTISM.[303]

SIR WILLIAM JONES.

1. What constitutes[304] a State? Not high raised battlements[305] or labored mound,[306] Thick wall or moated[307] gate; Nor cities proud, with spires and turrets[308] crowned; Not bays and broad-armed ports, Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies[309] ride; Not starred and spangled courts, Where low-browed baseness[310] wafts perfume to pride.

2. No; men, high-minded[311] men, With powers as far above dull brutes endued[312], In forest brake, or den, As beasts excel[313] cold rocks and brambles[314] rude; _Men_ who their duties know, But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain;[315] Prevent the long aimed blow, And crush the tyrant while they rend[316] the chain; _These_ constitute a State; And Sovereign[317] Law, that State’s collected[318] will, O’er thrones and globes elate,[319] Sits empress, crowning good, repressing[320] ill.

[303] PAˊ-TRI-OT-ISM, love of country.

[304] CONˊ-STI-TUTES, makes; forms.

[305] BATˊ-TLE-MENTS, breastworks.

[306] MOUND, rampart; bank of earth.

[307] MOATˊ-ED, surrounded by a ditch.

[308] TURˊ-RETS, little towers.

[309] NAˊ-VIES, fleets of ships.

[310] BASEˊ-NESS, meanness.

[311] HIGHˊ-MIND-ED, magnanimous.

[312] EN-DUˊ-ED, furnished; endowed.

[313] EX-CELˊ, exceed; surpass.

[314] BRAMˊ-BLES, prickly shrubs.

[315] MAIN-TAINˊ, defend; support.

[316] REND, part asunder.

[317] SOVˊ-ER-EIGN, supreme.

[318] COL-LECTˊ-ED, congregated.

[319] E-LATEˊ, raised; lofty.

[320] RE-PRESSˊ-ING, quelling.

XXXVII.—INFLUENCE OF RELIGION ON THE TYROLESE.

ALISON.

Sir Archibald Alison, although not himself a Catholic, eloquently sets forth, in the following lesson, the refining and civilizing influences of the Catholic Church.

1. What is it, then, which has wrought so surprising a change in the manners and habits of Europe, of the inhabitants of the great mountain-girdle of the earth? What is it which has spread cultivation through wastes deemed, in ancient times, inaccessible[321] to improvement, and humanized[322] the manners of a people, remarkable only, under the Roman sway, for the ferocity and barbarism of their customs?

2. What but the influence of religion; of that faith which has calmed the savage passions of the human mind, and spread its beneficial influence amongst the remotest[323] habitations of men, and which prompted its disciples to leave the luxuries and comforts of southern civilization to diffuse[324] knowledge and humanity through inhospitable realms, and spread, even amidst the regions of desolation, the light of knowledge, and the blessings of Christianity.

3. Impressed with these ideas, the traveler, in crossing the St. Bernard, and comparing the perfect safety with which he now can explore the most solitary parts of these mountains, with the perils[325] of the passage, attested by votive[326] offerings, even in the days of Adrian, and the Antonines, will think with thankfulness of the religion by which this wonderful change has been effected, and with veneration of the saint whose name has, for a thousand years, been affixed to the pass where his influence first reclaimed the people from their barbarous life; and in crossing the defile of Mount Brenner, where the Abbey of Wilten first offered an asylum to the pilgrim, he will feel, with a late amiable and eloquent writer, “how fortunate it is that religion has penetrated these fastnesses, impervious[327] to human power, and, where precautions are impossible and resistance useless, spread her invisible ægis[328] over the traveler, and conducts him, secure under her protection, through all the dangers of his way!”

4. When in such situations he reflects upon his security, and recollects that these mountains, so savage, and so well adapted to the progress of murderers and banditti[329], have not in the memory of man been stained with human blood, he ought to do justice to the cause, and gratefully to acknowledge the influence of religion.

5. Impressed with these ideas, he will behold with interest the crosses which frequently mark the brow of a precipice, and the little chapels hollowed out of the rock, where the road is narrowed; he will consider them as so many pledges of security, and rest assured, that so long as the pious mountaineer continues to adore the “Good Shepherd,” and to implore the power of the “Afflicted Mother,” he will never cease to befriend the traveler, nor to discharge the duties of hospitality.

[321] IN-AC-CESSˊ-I-BLE, beyond reach of.

[322] HUˊ-MAN-IZE, to render human.

[323] RE-MOTˊ-EST, most distant.

[324] DIF-FUSEˊ, to spread, to extend in all directions.

[325] PERˊ-ILS, dangers.

[326] VOˊ-TIVE, given by vow, devoted.

[327] IM-PERˊ-VI-OUS, not to be penetrated or passed through.

[328] ÆGIS, shield, protection.

[329] BAN-DITˊ-TI, outlaws, highwaymen, robbers.

XXXVIII.—HYMN OF THE MOUNTAINEERS.

MRS. HEMANS.

Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Hemans was born in England in 1794, and died in 1835. Her poetry is not only remarkable for purity and delicacy of feeling, but is often marked by ardent and vigorous expression.

1. For the strength of the hills we bless thee, our God, our fathers’ God! Thou hast made Thy children mighty, by the touch of the mountain sod. Thou hast fixed our ark of refuge[330] where the spoiler’s foot ne’er trod; For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!

2. We are watchers of a beacon[331] whose light must never die; We are guardians of an altar midst the silence of the sky, The rocks yield founts of courage, struck forth as by Thy rod; For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our father’s God.

3. For the dark-resounding caverns,[332] where Thy still, small voice is heard; For the strong pines of the forests, that by Thy breath is stirred; For the storms on whose free pinions[333] Thy spirit walks abroad; For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!

4. The royal eagle darteth on his quarry[334] from the heights, And the stag, that knows no master, seeks there his wild delights; But we, for _Thy_ communion, have sought the mountain sod; For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!

5. The banner of the chieftain far, far below us waves; The war-horse of the spearman cannot reach our lofty caves; Thy dark clouds wrap the threshold of Freedom’s last abode; For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!

6. For the shadow of Thy presence, round our camp of rock outspread; For the stern defiles of battle, bearing record of our dead; For the snows and for the torrents, for the free heart’s burial sod; For the strength of the hills, we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!

[330] REFˊ-UGE, shelter, or protection from danger.

[331] BEAˊ-CON, a signal, or mark to give warning of danger.

[332] CAVˊ-ERN, a deep hollow place in the earth.

[333] PINˊ-IONS, wings.

[334] QUARˊ-RY, the game which a hawk or an eagle is pursuing, or has killed.

XXXIX.—EXHORTATION TO PRAYER.

1. Not on a prayerless bed, not on a prayerless bed Compose thy weary limbs to rest; For they alone are blessed With balmy sleep, Whom angels keep; Nor, though by care oppressed, Or anxious sorrow, Or thought in many a coil perplexed For coming morrow, Lay not thy head On prayerless bed.

2. For who can tell, when sleep thine eyes shall close, That earthly cares and woes To thee may e’er return? Arouse, my soul, Slumber control, And let thy lamp burn brightly; So shall thine eyes discern Things pure and sightly; Taught by the Spirit, learn Never on thoughtless bed To lay thine unblessed head.

3. Hast thou no pining want, or wish, or care, That calls for holy prayer? Has thy day been so bright That in its flight There is no trace of sorrow? And art thou sure to-morrow Will be like this, and more Abundant? Dost thou yet lay up thy store, And still make plans for more? Thou fool! this very night Thy soul may wing its flight.

4. Hast thou no being than thyself more dear, That plows the ocean deep? And when storms sweep the wintry, lowering skies, For whom thou wakest and weepest? O, when thy pangs are deepest, Seek then the covenant ark of prayer, For He that slumbereth not, is there, His ear is open to thy cry; O, then, on prayerless bed Lay not thy thoughtless head.

5. Arouse thee, weary soul, nor yield to slumber, Till in communion blessed With the elect thou rest, Those souls in countless number; And with them raise The note of praise, Reaching from earth to heaven; Chosen, redeemed, forgiven; So lay thy happy head, Prayer-crowned, on blessed bed.

XL.—BEHIND TIME.

FREEMAN HUNT.

1. A railroad train was rushing along at almost lightning speed. A curve was just ahead, beyond which was a station at which the cars usually passed each other. The conductor was late, so late that the period during which the down train was to wait had nearly elapsed; but he hoped yet to pass the curve safely. Suddenly a locomotive dashed into sight right ahead. In an instant there was a collision. A shriek, a shock, and fifty souls were in eternity; and all because an engineer had been _behind time_.

2. A great battle was going on. Column[335] after column had been precipitated for eight mortal hours on the enemy posted along the ridge of a hill. The summer sun was sinking to the west; rëenforcements[336] for the obstinate defenders were already in sight; it was necessary to carry the position with one final charge, or every thing would be lost.

3. A powerful corps had been summoned from across the country, and if it came up in season all would yet be well. The great conqueror, confident in its arrival, formed his reserve[337] into an attacking column, and ordered them to charge the enemy. The whole world knows the result. Grouchy[338] failed to appear; the imperial guard was beaten back; Waterloo was lost. Napoleon died a prisoner at St. Helena because one of his marshals was _behind time_.

4. A leading firm in commercial circles had long struggled against bankruptcy. As it had enormous assets[339] in California, it expected remittances by a certain day, and if the sums promised arrived, its credit, honor, and its future prosperity would be preserved. But week after week elapsed without bringing the gold. At last came the fatal day on which the firm had bills maturing[340] to enormous amounts. The steamer was telegraphed at daybreak; but it was found, on inquiry, that she brought no funds, and the house failed. The next arrival brought nearly half a million to the insolvents[341], but it was too late; they were ruined because their agent, in remitting, had been _behind time_.

5. A condemned man was led out for execution. He had taken human life, but under circumstances of the greatest provocation, and public sympathy was active in his behalf. Thousands had signed petitions for a reprieve[342], a favorable answer had been expected the night before, and though it had not come, even the sheriff felt confident that it would yet arrive in season. Thus the morning passed without the appearance of the messenger. The last moment was up. The prisoner took his place on the drop, the cap was drawn over his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and a lifeless body swung revolving in the wind. Just at that moment a horseman came into sight, galloping down hill, his steed covered with foam. He carried a packet in his right hand, which he waved rapidly to the crowd. He was the express rider with a reprieve. But he had come too late. A comparatively innocent man had died an ignominious death, because a watch had been five minutes too slow, making its bearer arrive _behind time_.

6. It is continually so in life. The best laid plans, the most important affairs, the fortunes of individuals, the weal of nations, honor, happiness, life itself, are daily sacrificed because somebody is “behind time.” There are men who always fail in whatever they undertake, simply because they are “behind time.” There are others who put off reformation year by year, till death seizes them, and they perish unrepentant, because forever “behind time.” Five minutes in a crisis is worth years. It is but a little period, yet it has often saved a fortune or redeemed a people. If there is one virtue that should be cultivated more than another by him who would succeed in life, it is punctuality; if there is one error that should be avoided it is being _behind time_.

[335] COLˊ-UMN, a body of troops in deep files, with narrow front.

[336] RE-EN-FORCEˊ-MENTS, supplies of additional troops.

[337] RE-SERVEˊ, a select body of troops kept in the rear of an army in action, to give support when required.

[338] Napoleon Bonaparte, emperor of France, was defeated by the Allies under the Duke of Wellington, at Waterloo, June 18, 1815. Marshal Grouchy was expected to aid the emperor with a body of troops, but failed to appear.

[339] ASˊ-SETS, property or effects.

[340] MA-TURˊ-ING, ripening, coming to a perfected state. Bills or notes mature when they become due.

[341] IN-SOLˊ-VENT, one who cannot pay his debts.

[342] RE-PRIEVEˊ, a suspension of a entence of death.

XLI.—EVIL INFLUENCE OF SKEPTICISM.

CAMPBELL.

Thomas Campbell was born in Scotland in 1777, and died in 1844. Some of his shorter poems are remarkable for pathos and beauty, such as “O’Connor’s Child,” “The Exile of Erin,” etc.

1. O, lives there, Heaven! beneath thy dread expanse, One hopeless, dark idolater of Chance, Content to feed, with pleasures unrefined, The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind; Who, mouldering earthward, reft[343] of every trust, In joyless union wedded to the dust, Could all his parting energy dismiss, And call this barren world sufficient bliss?

2. There live, alas! of heaven-directed mien, Of cultured soul, and sapient[344] eye serene, Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of a day, Spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay! Frail as the leaf in Autumn’s yellow bower, Dust in the wind, or dew upon the flower! A friendless slave, a child without a sire, Whose mortal life, and momentary fire, Lights to the grave his chance-created form, As ocean-wrecks illuminate the storm; And, when the gun’s tremendous flash is o’er, To night and silence sink for evermore!

3. Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim, Lights of the world, and demigods[345] of Fame? Is this your triumph, this your proud applause, Children of Truth, and champions of her cause? For this hath Science searched, on weary wing, By shore and sea, each mute and living thing? Launched with Iberia’s[346] pilot from the steep, To world’s unknown, and isles beyond the deep? Or round the cope[347] her living chariot driven, And wheeled in triumph through the signs of heaven? O, star-eyed Science, hast thou wandered there, To waft us home the message of despair? Then bind the palm, thy sage’s brow to suit, Of blasted leaf, and death distilling fruit!

4. Ah me! the laureled wreath that Murder rears, Blood-nursed, and watered by the widow’s tears, Seems not so foul, so tainted, and so dread, As waves the night-shade[348] round the sceptic head. What is the bigot’s torch, the tyrant’s chain? I smile on death, if heavenward Hope remain! But, if the warring winds of Nature’s strife Be all the faithless charter of my life, If chance awaked, inexorable power! This frail and feverish being of an hour, Doomed o’er the world’s precarious scene to sweep, Swift as the tempest travels on the deep, To know Delight but by her parting smile, And toil, and wish, and weep, a little while; Then melt, ye elements, that formed in vain This troubled pulse, and visionary[349] brain! Fade, ye wild flowers, memorials of my doom! And sink, ye stars, that light me to the tomb!

5. Truth, ever lovely, since the world began, The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man, How can thy words from balmy slumber start Reposing Virtue, pillowed on the heart! Yet, if thy voice the note of thunder rolled, And that were true which Nature never told, Let Wisdom smile not on her conquered field No rapture dawns, no treasure is revealed! O, let her read, nor loudly, nor elate, The doom that bars us from a better fate! But, sad as angels for the good mans sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in!

[343] REFT, bereft; deprived.

[344] SAˊ-PI-ENT, wise.

[345] DEMˊ-I-GOD, a deified hero.

[346] I-BEˊ-RI-A’S PIˊ-LOT, Columbus. Iberia is an ancient name of Spain.

[347] COPE, the concave of the sky, an arch or vault over head.

[348] NIGHTˊ-SHADE, a noxious plant.

[349] VIˊ-SION-A-RY, prone to see or capable of seeing visions; imaginative.

XLII.—DAVID’S LAMENT FOR ABSALOM.

WILLIS.

1. Alas, my noble boy! that thou shouldst die! Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair! That death should settle in thy glorious eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy, Absalom!

2. Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill As to my bosom I have tried to press thee. How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harpstring, yearning[350] to caress thee, And hear thy sweet “_My father!_” from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom!

3. But death is on thee. I shall hear the gush Of music, and the voices of the young; And life will pass me in the mantling[351] blush, And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung;— But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come To meet me, Absalom!

4. And, O, when I am stricken, and my heart, Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, How will its love for thee, as I depart, Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token! It were so sweet, amid death’s gathering gloom, To see thee, Absalom!

5. And now, farewell! ’Tis hard to give thee up, With death so like a gentle slumber on thee:— And thy dark sin!—O, I could drink the cup, If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, My lost boy, Absalom!

[350] YEARNˊING, strongly desiring.

[351] MANˊTLING, suffusing the face.

XLIII.—A STORM AT SEA.

ARCHBISHOP HUGHES.

Archbishop Hughes, was born in the north of Ireland in 1798. He came to the United States in 1817, with his father, and died January 3, 1864. He was educated at Mount St. Mary’s, Emmetsburg, Maryland, ordained priest in 1825, became bishop in 1842, and archbishop of New York in 1850. He devoted his great energies in an especial manner to the encouragement and spread of Catholic education. His controversies with Breckenridge, and the debate on the Public School question, proved him to be a man of great controversial ability.