Excerpts and Extracts

Fighting German Witches in 1484

2012-01-04T08:48:00.000-08:00

Extract from:The Bull of Innocent VIII, 1484.

Innocent, Bishop, Servant of the servants of God, for an eternal remembrance.

DESIRING with the most hearfelt anxiety, even as Our Apostleship requires, that the Catholic faith should especially in this Our day increase and flourish everywhere, and that all heretical depravity should be driven far from the frontiers and bournes of the Faithful, We very gladly proclaim and even restate those particular means and methods whereby Our pious desire may obtain its wished effect, since when all errors are uprooted by Our diligent avocation as by the hoe of a provident husbandman, a zeal for, and the regular observance of, Our holy Faith will be all the more strongly impressed upon the hearts of the faithful.

It has indeed lately come to Our ears, not without afflicting Us with bitter sorrow, that in some parts of Northern Germany, as well as in the provinces, townships, territories, districts, and dioceses of Mainz, Cologne, Tréves, Salzburg, and Bremen, many persons of both sexes, unmindful of their own salvation and straying from the Catholic Faith, have abandoned themselves to devils, incubi and succubi, and by their incantations, spells, conjurations, and other accursed charms and crafts, enormities and horrid offences, have slain infants yet in the mother’s womb, as also the offspring of cattle, have blasted the produce of the earth, the grapes of the vine, the fruits of the trees, nay, men and women, beasts of burthen, herd-beasts, as well as animals of other kinds, vineyards, orchards, meadows, pasture-land, corn, wheat, and all other cereals; these wretches furthermore afflict and torment men and women, beasts of burthen, herd-beasts, as well as animals of other kinds, with terrible and piteous pains and sore diseases, both internal and external; they hinder men from performing the sexual act and women from conceiving, whence husbands cannot know their wives nor wives receive their husbands; over and above this, they blasphemously renounce that Faith which is theirs by the Sacrament of Baptism, and at the instigation of the Enemy of Mankind they do not shrink from committing and perpetrating the foulest abominations and filthiest excesses to the deadly peril of their own souls, whereby they outrage the Divine Majesty and are a cause of scandal and danger to very many. And although Our dear sons Henry Kramer and James Sprenger, Professors of Theology, of the Order of Friars Preachers, have been by Letters Apostolic delegated as Inquisitors of these heretical pravities, and still are Inquisitors, the first in the aforesaid parts of Northern Germany, wherein are included those aforesaid townships, districts, dioceses, and other specified localities, and the second in certain territories which lie along the borders of the Rhine, nevertheless not a few clerics and lay folk of those countries, seeking too curiously to know more than concerns them, since in the aforesaid delegatory letters there is no express and specific mention by name of these provinces, townships, dioceses, and districts, and further since the two delegates themselves and the abominations they are to encounter are not designated in detailed and particular fashion, these persons are not ashamed to contend with the most unblushing effrontery that these enormities are not practised in these provinces, and consequently the aforesaid Inquisitors have no legal right to exercise their powers of inquisition in the provinces, townships, dioceses, districts, and territories, which have been rehearsed, and that the Inquisitors may not proceed to punish, imprison, and penalize criminals convicted of the heinous offences and many wickednesses which have been set forth. Accordingly in the aforesaid provinces, townships, dioceses, and districts, the abominations and enormities in question remain unpunished not without open danger to the souls of many and peril of eternal damnation.

Wherefore We, as is Our duty, being wholly desirous of removing all hindrances and obstacles by which the good work of the Inquisitors may be let and tarded, as also of applying potent remedies to prevent the disease of heresy and other turpitudes diffusing their poison to the destruction of many innocent souls, since Our zeal for the Faith especially incites us, lest that the provinces, townships, dioceses, districts, and territories of Germany, which We had specified, be deprived of the benefits of the Holy Office thereto assigned, by the tenor of these presents in virtue of Our Apostolic authority We decree and enjoin that the aforesaid Inquisitors be empowered to proceed to the just correction, imprisonment, and punishment of any persons, without let or hindrance, in every way as if the provinces, townships, dioceses, districts, territories, yea, even the persons and their crimes in this kind were named and particularly designated in Our letters. Moreover, for greater surety We extend these letters deputing this authority to cover all the aforesaid provinces, townships, dioceses, districts, territories, persons, and crimes newly rehearsed, and We grant permission to the aforesaid Inquisitors, to one separately or to both, as also to Our dear son John Gremper, priest of the diocese of Constance, Master of Arts, their notary, or to any other public notary, who shall be by them, or by one of them, temporarily delegated to those provinces, townships, dioceses, districts, and aforesaid territories, to proceed, according to the regulations of the Inquisition, against any persons of whatsoever rank and high estate, correcting, mulcting, imprisoning, punishing, as their crimes merit, those whom they have found guilty, the penalty being adapted to the offence. Moreover, they shall enjoy a full and perfect faculty of expounding and preaching the word of God to the faithful, so often as opportunity may offer and it may seem good to them, in each and every parish church of the said provinces, and they shall freely and lawfully perform any rites or execute any business which may appear advisable in the aforesaid cases. By Our supreme authority We grant them anew full and complete faculties.

At the same time by Letters Apostolic We require Our venerable Brother, the Bishop of Strasburg [Albrecht von Bayern, 1478-1506], that he himself shall announce, or by some other or others cause to be announced, the burthen if Our Bull, which he shall solemnly publish when and so often as he deems it necessary, or when he shall be requested so to do by the Inquisitors or by one of them. Nor shall he suffer them in disobedience to the tenor of these presents to be molested or hindered by any authority whatsoever, but he shall threaten all who endeavour to hinder or harass the Inquisitors, all who oppose them, all rebels, of whatsoever rank, estate, position, pre-eminence, dignity, or any condition they may be, or whatsoever privilege or exemption they may claim, with excommunication, suspension, interdict, and yet more terrible penalties, censures, and punishment, as may seem good to him, and that without any right of appeal, and if he will he may by Our authority aggravate and renew these penalties as often as he list, calling in, if so please him, the help of the secular arm.

Non obstantibus … Let no man therefore … But if any dare to do so, which God forbid, let him know that upon him will fall the wrath of Almighty God, and of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul.

Given at Rome, at S. Peter’s, on the 9 December of the Year of the Incarnation of Our Lord one thousand four hundred and eighty-four, in the first year of Our Pontificate.

New Year’s Day in Paris in 1858

2011-12-31T15:32:00.000-08:00

Excerpts from: ASPECTS OF PARIS. BY EDWARD COPPING. LONDON: LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, LONGMANS, & ROBERTS. 1858.

CHAP. II. PARIS ON NEW YEAR'S DAY. IF you would see Paris under its gayest aspect, you must see it on the Jour de l'An, or New Year's Day. The Jour de l'An is the most popular of all French holidays; it is the Christmas Day of France. Paris is lively enough on other festivals, but on this she becomes thoroughly gay. Work almost entirely ceases. The ouvrier puts aside his implements; the ouvrière lays down her needle; the clerk flings away his pen; the merchant closes his ledger; the journalist shuts up his bureau; the judge doffs his gown. The unhappy shopman alone has no respite from labour. Rarely, indeed, does he work so hard as on the Jour de l’An. No wonder! All Paris goes out shopping to-day, and he has all Paris to serve. By noon the great movement has fairly begun. Promenading purchasers fill every street; the arcades overflow; the Boulevards are entirely submerged. From the Madeleine to the Château d'Eau, and from the Château d'Eau to the Madeleine, four goodly miles, I trow, the pavements on both sides are occupied by a slowly moving mass of human forms. It is impossible, be assured, to move quickly. Your pace must necessarily be that of the tortoise. Never mind! The hare is fast asleep to-day. You need not fear that he will outstrip you. If the pavement were not doubly encumbered, you would find it impossible to accelerate your speed. Though you should have no more taste than a Hottentot, no more poetry than a paviour, you must stop to gaze at the glittering objects displayed in every shop window. And yet to loiter here is perilous. Your gold pieces are in danger. If you would return with an unlightened purse and an untroubled conscience, retire at once. There is a conspiracy to-day among the Paris shopkeepers to rifle and strip you. Refuse to listen to the voice of prudence, and they will leave you as coinless as was poor Jean-Jacques when he arrived in Turin under the conduct of the worthy Sabrans. If, however, you are determined after this warning to brave the dangers of the Boulevards, your expenditure be upon your own balance sheet! Follow me. Did you ever before see such a display of charming objects, so calculated to decoy artless woman and seduce unsuspecting man? Every tradesman seems to have opened a fancy fair. See! the linen draper puts forth his most ethereal gauzes, his most glossy satins, his most tender velvets. The tobacconist displays the most gorgeous hookahs, the most magnificent meerschaums, the most fanciful pouches, the richest and rarest snuff-boxes. The bookseller is all a-blaze with brilliant bindings. Nothing but resplendent gift books, gilt edged, gilt lettered, and gilt covered, are to be seen on his counters. Even Corneille and Racine would be excluded from this company of well-dressed tomes if they made their appearance in paper dishabille. Then the china-merchant arranges in the most enticing order his choicest porcelain vases, his most glittering cut glass, his most alluring cups and seductive saucers. A man might contentedly leave off tea-drinking forever, if he could but for once sip his souchong out of this ravishing crockery. And then the stationer, where has he obtained all those ink-stands, which of themselves might tempt any man to rush into print; and those piles of fancy note paper, as delicately tinted as a maiden's cheek; and those writing-cases, which seem almost too delicate for even the hand of Beauty to rest upon? Where, indeed! The toy-man might tell us, perhaps, for evidently he has credit at the same establishment. Yet, no! His merry-eyed, rosy- cheeked dolls, were never made by mortal hands. They must have been born of other dolls, some good old lady from fairyland assisting them into life. It is all clear enough now. Every Paris tradesman has fallen madly in love to-day in love with extravagant display. Why even the apothecary adorns his windows with the most attractive patent medicines and the most pleasing surgical instruments. If there were an undertaker here about, depend upon it he would share the general infatuation. He would treat us to rows and rows of charming little baby- coffins of polished oak, intermingled with the choicest specimens of leaden ware for adults. But the most brilliant displays we have yet to see. Yes! hitherto we have been merely dazzled; now we are to be fairly blinded. A man may look at linen drapers, stationers, china merchants, book-sellers, tobacconists, and pass on unscathed, perhaps; but not thus will he pass the shop where knick knack nothings are sold or that where sweetmeats make mute appeals to the greedy stomach of youth. Knick knack nothings! Imagine the indignation of a polished Paris tradesman upon hearing his objets d’art thus contemptuously designated. I retract the expression. We should have a better name for all these beautiful trifles in which art strives to unite itself to utility these taper stands, toilette boxes, jewel boxes, wafer boxes, scent bottles, clock cases, pin receptacles, &c. Granted, that art is sometimes here put to mean employ, as Minerva would be if she were to go out charring. Yet see how it refines and softens everything it touches! Look at that stand for taper and lucifer matches in the centre a little boy and girl are reading a book; they evidently read by the light of the taper; should it go out are not the matches all ready on the other side to rekindle it? Fortunate age! In our forefathers' days art remained shut up in the picture gallery or the sculpture museum a proud beauty who scorned the vulgar gaze. Now she condescendingly puts on a homely mien and comes forth into our humblest dwellings, bringing brightness into their most obscure corners. But at last we have arrived at the most splendid stall in the fair. We are at the sweetmeat shop of which I spoke. This a sweetmeat shop! Why it's the last scene of a pantomime without the coloured fires! a Bower of Beauty, Hall of Radiant Light or Palace of Dazzling Splendour. Where is the good spirit who ought to be somewhere near about waiting to come in on her magic car? The good spirit, my gentle and simple sir, is behind the counter, quite ready to serve you, if you wish to buy anything, but in no mood to listen to your theatrical rhapsodies. Buy! who talks of buying here? This is an art exhibition not a lollypop shop. Those bonbons are too exquisite to be eaten. I should as soon think of eating the Venus de Milo or the Diane Chasseresse. Eyes, not stomachs, surely, are to be feasted with these beautiful coings, these charming abricots, these graceful cerises; these delicate mandarines, mirabelles, Reines Claudes, brochettes, marrons glacés, angéliques, pastèques, and calissons d'Aix! Why! look at the boxes and baskets in which they are contained. They would grace the boudoir of a fairy. A fairy! If Titania were to come here shopping, Oberon would be forced to disclaim all responsibility for her debts in order to save himself from the Bankruptcy Court or Clichy. Come away, man, come away, while yet another six-pence is left in your pocket. Shops, more shops! Yes, the very pavements axe covered with them. All along the main Boulevards and in many of the chief thoroughfares you will see line after line of temporary shops stretching away. They are mere stalls unsightly edifices of rough deal, hastily knocked together, but they add amazingly to the bustle of the streets. Their proprietors are mostly small tradesmen or hucksters, who are allowed by the municipal authorities, in accordance with time-honoured custom, to establish themselves in this manner upon the public pavement for about a week before, and a week after, the Jour de l’An. Purchasers whose purses will not enable them to visit in safety the shops we have just been looking at come, without fear, to these temporary establishments, for the objects they sell are of inferior quality and of low price. In these stalls there is a strange succession of the useful and the ornamental. In one you will see, perhaps, devotional images; in the next, fleecy hosiery. Side by side with illustrated gift books, you will find cheap fire-irons; immediately after porcelain vases come brushes and brooms. You may buy almost anything, indeed, in these wooden marts. The dealers are prepared to supply every want. Toys, trinkets, sham jewellery, drapery goods, stationery, fruit, bonbons, pictures, cakes, pocket-handkerchiefs, crockery, cutlery, bronzes, cravats, thermometers, purses, walking-sticks, stereoscopes, papier-maché tea-trays, hat-pegs, book-cases, chairs, hair-brushes, telescopes, pots and pans, almanacs, pipes, basket-work, artificial flowers, plaster casts, furs, stags' horns, measurement rules, Berlin wool patterns; all may be had in these street storehouses. How much per cent, under prime cost none but an advertiser would be bold enough to state. But why all this unusual display, you ask, after passing miles of stall and shop, miles of shop and stall? To answer is not difficult. The Jour de l’An is a day on which everybody in France makes presents. As poor as a pauper, or as stingy as charity must be the man who does not open his purse strings on this joyous first of January. Be his circle of acquaintance ever so small, he cannot pass round it without the aid of his generosity. Presents are made to everybody to-day. Presents to mothers, to fathers, to sisters, to brothers, to wives, to daughters, to sons, to cousins, to uncles, to aunts, to nieces, to sweethearts, to mere friends and acquaintances. Ladies and children come in, of course, for the lion's share. If you are on intimate terms with a family, not only the younger members of that family, but their mammas also, expect new year's gifts, or étrennes as they are called. The cost you will be put to, for these presents, is no trifle. A young man of but moderate means, and with but a moderate number of friends, rarely spends less than a hundred francs four pounds sterling upon his étrennes. People whose means are more ample, will disburse ten times that sum. The amount spent every year in Paris on the Jour de l’An for toys alone, is estimated at one hundred and eighty thousand pounds sterling! The étrennes of the superior shops are, as a rule, of the most expensive kind. A box of sweetmeats seems a very simple affair, and so it is when the box is mere deal, and the sweetmeats homely caraway comfits. But this simplicity would not suit Parisian taste. The bonbons of the Jour de l'An are of the most luscious kind; the boxes, elaborately worked and adorned, are of papier-maché, mother of pearl, or carved wood. I have seen them as high as twelve hundred francs -- forty-eight pounds sterling and there are some even dearer. Very pretty presents these, as it seems to me, for New Year's Day. People generally give away these étrennes, or humbler ones of a similar kind, with a cheerful spirit and a smiling face. This is only natural. Friends whom we esteem, and relatives whom we love, have the key of our hearts; and that key, as is well known, unlocks our money-chest. But there are other people who in no way enter into our sympathies, to whom we are as it were compelled to give, and to them we extend our generosity with miserly reluctance.

I have said that the Jour de l'An is the Christmas Day of France. It is the day after as well. A host of persons, who have no more right to ask alms of you than they have to stop you on the highway, assail you now with demands for unearnt money. The weak-voiced, feeble-smiling Auvergnat, who brings you water every morning in pails, after the manner of the middle ages, (such extraordinary inventions as Water Companies and New Rivers not yet having penetrated into the most civilised capital in the world,) is perhaps at the head of this black band. Then comes the charbonnier, who supplies you with wood and coal; the man who brings you your paper in the morning; the servant whom you regularly pay every month for serving you; the blanchisseuse who washes your linen; the concierge who peeps into your letters, and otherwise renders you important aid; the butcher boy who brings you meat; the baker boy who brings you bread; the grocer's boy who brings you grocery. Your entire morning is spent in responding to the pitiful demands of these people. If only sixty or seventy francs also are spent, you may think yourself lucky. In no place are you safe from the banditti of the Jour de l’An. Exhausted, perhaps, by the voluntary acts of generosity which have been wrung from you during the morning, you take refuge in your restaurant, and order a déjeúner. The garҫon smiles upon you as you enter, he smiles upon you as you sit down, he smiles upon you when you have finished your meal. Nay, so amiable has he become, that he brings you, unasked, an orange, which he, still smiling, trusts you will accept. That orange costs you a five franc piece. Your digestion being thus disarranged, you make the best of your way to the café, and take a petit verre, or a little black coffee, exactly of course as you would take a blue pill or a dose of quinine. But here too you meet with a smiling garҫon, who obligingly offers you a cigar tied up with a piece of red ribbon. Your hand is again in your pocket. For cigars cost as much as oranges to-day. As a last resource you fly to your reading-room, hoping to wrap yourself up in a journal, and thus remain concealed. But the surly attendant, who for a whole year has made you wait until six o'clock for the evening papers, and who has always told you that the "Débats" is engaged three deep, at once spies you out, and with a smile even upon his face wishes you all sorts of compliments upon this most auspicious day. You get rid of him with a heavy groan and a gratuity by no means light, and wander forth into the streets, striving to forget your indignation by mingling with the happy groups you see there. You are really forced to give in every direction to-day. If you are not on sufficiently intimate terms with a friend to make him a more expensive present, you send him your card. You leave it at his residence with your own hands, supposing your politeness be strong enough to support you through this act of pedestrianism, and turn down one of its ends to indicate that you have been your own messenger. But if your legs refuse their office, the postman's will be more obliging. To those you can make appeal. There is, in fact, a special postal regulation respecting cards sent through the post-office on the Jour de l’An. If they are enclosed in an open envelope they will be delivered in Paris for five centimes instead of ten, the usual price of a single letter. The number sent in this manner is consequently enormous. The unhappy postman, as may be believed, has no holiday on New Year's Day. Almost from early dawn he is abroad heavily laden with his pack, his pack of cards. How gladly would he let some one else deal them for him this day! We will take one more look at the city ere the day wanes and the early night comes on. It will not be a gloomy night, rest certain; café, cabaret, and restaurant will be filled with a merry company; the shops, even after midnight chimes have sounded, will still be brilliant and bustling as the last labours of the day draw to a close; the pavement will still echo with the tread of many footsteps. And now, while yet an hour or two of lingering light remains, how look the streets? They are still filled with the same crowd that occupied them at noon; the same, except that it is a trifle less numerous. It is even gayer, however, than before. All care, in fact, seems to have fled from Paris to-day. There are no more pouting children; no more frowning wives; no more grumbling husbands; no more melancholy bachelors. Cheerfulness and content sit on every face. Look! the halt, the lame, the blind, and the simply indigent have been allowed to come forth into the streets without let or hinderance, without police interference or restriction, to draw upon the stores of kindly feeling which everywhere abound in Paris to-day. Ordinarily only a certain number of these poor sufferers, duly registered and ticketed, are allowed to appeal for charity on the public way, for even beggary in Paris is a monopoly. To-day, however, the trade is free. Indoors, as well as out of doors, there are gaiety and happiness in Paris. There is a public reception at the Tuileries, and all sorts of étrennes in the shape of honours and promotions will be given to numerous functionaries. There is a private reception in every household. Friends and relatives visit each other who, perhaps, have been separated by distance or social position all the previous year. They would not miss the warm embrace, and the loving words, of the Jour de l’An, for all the good or evil fortunes that might happen during the next twelve months. There will be many a gay party to-night, when the visits of the morning are over and the last present has been made. Many an old dame will forget her years as she looks upon the happy group of sons and grandsons clustering round her. Back to the days so distant, but which seem so near, will she turn once again; back to the days when, light of foot as of heart, she danced 'mid a merry circle, gayest of the gay. Ah! when others dance now, she sits all alone in her chair. But how time changes us! If old age is happy, how much more happy is youth! Look at that glad band of little ones! How proudly they display the beautiful gifts they have received! How they pet and hug the new doll or the new gun which has been given to them! Neither doll nor gun will be safe to-night except beneath their pillows, depend upon it. How lovingly they prattle and play! What fine games they have at colin-maillard, main-chaude, and pigeon vole! And even when sleep has fallen heavily upon their eyes they will still be happy. While yet the fond mother held them so securely in her arms, as they sank into slumber, they had wandered far away far away to scenes where even her watchful love cannot follow them. What would you or I give, oh reader, to have such dreams as they will have to-night? But midnight has sounded. The happy day is over. We must wait another year for another Jour de l’An. Another year! What a sad and a gloomy time we shall pass, perhaps, ere we have crossed the limits of this upon which we have just entered. Courage, courage, faint heart! A day like this will shed its radiance far in advance, and light us over the uncertain road we have to traverse.

New Year’s in Antarctica 1911-1912.

2011-12-31T10:33:00.000-08:00

Extracts from: The Journal of Captain Robert Falcon Scott, Royal Navy, as he attempted to reach the South Pole in 1910-1912.

Note: During this venture, Scott led a party of five which reached the South Pole on 17 January 1912, only to find that they had been preceded by Roald Amundsen's Norwegian expedition. On their return journey, Scott and his four comrades all perished from a combination of exhaustion, starvation and extreme cold.31 December, 1911 New Year's Eve Camp 53The second party deposited its ski and some other weights equivalent to 100 lbs. I sent them off first; they marched, but not fast. We have been rising all day. We had a good full brew of tea and then set to work stripping the sledges. That didn't take long, but the process of building up the 10-feet sledges now in operation in the other tent is a long job. Evans PO and Crean are tackling it, and it is a very remarkable piece of work. Certainly PO Evans is the most invaluable asset to our party. To build a sledge under these conditions is a fact for special record. We will put a depot here and call it the 3 Degree Depot, since we are so close to the 87th parallel. There is extraordinarily little mirage up here and the refraction is very small. Except for the four seamen we are all sitting in a double tent—the first time we have put up the inner lining to the tent; it seems to make us much snugger.

10pm. The job of rebuilding is taking longer than I expected but now it is almost done. The 10-feet sledges look very handy. We had an extra drink of tea and are now turned into our bags in the double tent (five of us) as warm as toast, and just enough light to write or work with. Evans couldn't say what took them so long, and was acting very gingerly with his hand. Very curious.1st January, 1912 New Year's Day Camp 54

Roused hands at 7:30 and got away at 9:30. Evan's party going ahead on foot. We followed on ski. We stupidly had not seen to our ski shoes beforehand, and it took a good half-hour to get them right. Wilson especially had trouble. When we did get away, to our surprise the sledge pulled very easily, and we made fine progress, rapidly gaining on the foot-haulers. We have scarcely exerted ourselves all day. We are very comfortable in our double tent. Stick of chocolate to celebrate the new year. The supporting party not in very high spirits, they have not managed matters well for themselves. Prospects seem to get brighter -- only 170 miles to go and plenty of food left.

Justifying Christmas Celebrations in 1648

2011-12-21T12:20:00.000-08:00

Extracted from: The Vindication of the Solemnity of the Nativity of ChristShowing the grounds upon which the Observation of that and other Festivals is justified in the Church.With a short Answer to certaine Quaeries propounded by one Joseph Heming, in opposiiton to the aforesayd practice of the Church. By Thomas Warmstry, D.D. Printed in the Yeare 1648.Let us follow after things that make for peace, and things wherewith we may edifie one another. Rom. 14.19Unto you is born this day a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. Luk. 1.11.

-------Transcribers Note: This tract was published in 1648, during the English Civil Wars. The text was transcribed from a print of a microfiche. The original was somewhat difficult to read in some places. Where I am not able to make a good guess of a word or phrase, I will insert “[?];” this is especially the case when transcribing Latin. If any reader has access to a better copy, and may offer corrections, please email me. Grammar and spelling are unchanged.-----------

The Vindication of the Solemnity of the Nativity of Christ, &cBefore I come to answer these Queries, that I may make way for the clearing of mens judgements, I shall briefly lay down the grounds upon which the observation of this, and other Festivalls is justified in the Church; which are these.First, It is a thing not onely lawfull, but justly due unto God, that he should be praised publickly and solemnely for this, and other such like great blessings as he hath bestowed upon the Church by Christ, and that to this end the memory of them should be preserved in the Church.Secondly, That for these ends, the Observation of a yearly day of memoriall is a meanes conducible in it selfe, and approved by God in Scripture, who made use thereof among the ancient people to summon and stirre them up thereby to the praise of God for those great blessings and deliverances which were bestowed upon them.Thirdly, That the appoyntment of such dayes being conducible to those ends before named, which are Scripture ends, hath so far its ground in the word of God.Fourthly, That the Church hath a power from God to promote those ends which are commanded in his word, by all kinds of meanes which are not contrary thereunto, and such a meanes is this appointment of days, which hath been with approbation practiced by the Church, even in the time of the Jewish Bondage, in the designation and ordaining of Festivalls yearely to be observed, which were not enjoyned by any expresse command of God, as is clearly to be seene in the institution of the Feast of Purim, Esther. 9. 17. &c. and of the Feast of Dedication, Machab. 4.59 honoured and confirmed by the presence of our Saviour, Job. 10.22.23.Fifthly, That this power in the Church is, thoughly onobservedly, yet in cleare consequence, is confirmed by divers arguments from the allowance and practice of Adversaries themselves. As first, looke what power private Ministers challenge, that they must much more allow the Church: But they challenge a power to appoynt times for publick worship, which are not expresly commanded by God as upon Lecture dayes: Ego, And there can be no reason why they should have more power to appoynt an houre or more in a day, then the Church a day or more in a yeare. Secondly, There is as good reason that the Church should appoynt days of feasting, which are not commanded by God, as dayes of fasting, which are not commanded by God; since the end of the former is as exceptable to God, and more excellent then the latter, and hath no please against it, that lyes not equally against the latter. Thirdly, That there is much more reason that the Church should appoynt solemne dayes for praising God for Christ, and for spirituall blessings, then for temporall ones: But the latter is allowed and practiced by the Parliament, as may appeare by the late Ordinance for the observation of the fifth of November, in memoriall of the deliverance of that very State, Church, and Religion from an outward descruction, which themselves now persecue; by the Army, in appoynting dyes of Thanksgiving for their bloody Victories over their brethren, in an impious way. Therefore the former, viz the appoyntment of solemn dayes for greater and spirituall blessings, cannot reasonably be condemned by them.Sixtly, This appoyntment of dayes to the purposes aforesayd, is not one [?], as not lying in oposicion to any Law of God, but of excellent use and benefit to Gods people. 1. To preserve and refresh the memory of these great blessings. 2. To [?] up the people to the duties of praise. 3. To call upon the Ministers in their severall charges to study, and handle those great, and necessary parts of Christian knowledge. 4. To give so many opportunities for the assembling of the people to holy duties. 5. For the rendring of those great and mysticall blessings familiar unto the people, thereby that being fulfilled in this sense, that the Psalmist speaketh in the 9. Psal. One day telleth another, and one night certifieth another; there is neither speech nor language, yet their speeches are heard among them. Thusit comes to passe that the Calendar of the Church, & the Cycle of the Festivalls presents, in as it were an easie and familiar Catechisme unto the people, and doth instruct them almost whether they wil or no in the apprehensions of those high points and comfortable motions of the conception, nativity, Circumcision, Manifestation to the Gentiles, presentation in the Temple, of the death and passion, resurrection, Ascention of Christ into Heaven, and of the sending of the holy Ghost, to bring home the fruit of all; which are as so many parts of the holy Antheme of the Church, the Epiphonema, or clase of all which is in the Festival of the Trinity, which is unto all the rest as the Glory be to the Father, to the Sonne, and to the holy Ghost &c. at the close of a Psalme, calling upon us to give honour and praise unto the Trinity for all those incomprehensible blessings and benefits whereby the worke of mans redemption is perfected and brought home unto us: This wisedome and piety of the Church is not understood, nor considered by those heady and haire brain'd people, that waigh things in the corrupt scales of [?] their owne contradictory and antecclesiasticall spirit; but they that are sober and peaceable discover and admire it, and blesse God for it, and do foresee with sad hearts the designes of Satan moving against this Church of ours, by the abolishing of these and other usefull Ordinances and customes, to blot out by degrees the memory of the great and inestimable blessings of God in Christ, and to open the doore to prophanesse and infidelty: to the former benefits may be added, the mercy that doth hereby accrue unto servants, and the poore beasts in a relaxation of their labours upon such daies, the incitements that they administer unto workes of charity, neighbourhood, and hospitality; things very pleasing in the sight of God, howsoever disliked by those of this age that place religion in cruelty, Faction, and Sedition; and the nurcery, and supply that is thereby suggested unto the exercise of our spirituall joy, and delight in God, and his goodnesse.Lastly, The authority of the Church both ancient and modern, both generall, and of this particular Church, coming upon us with all these warrants, and conveniences to serve the ends of God and Scripture, and strengthened by the power of the civil Magistrate, and by the authenticall Lawes of the Kingdome in those Acts of Parliament which have establisht these things, must either engage all that are within the verge of the Church, and of this Church and State especially, unto a peaceable and piroud obedience thereunto, or else leave the staine of Impiety, Faction, and of a turbulent and disorderly spirit, or else of folly and blindnesse upon all those that oppose it.Indeed there is nothing free from temptations; but it is well said of one, as I remember, and may be well considered of others, that it is not (at least not alwaie) the infirmity, but the excellency of things that maketh them the matter of temptation: Abuses of things that are good must teach us wisedome and caution, but not set us upon confusion.And truly there is need of more warines in the observation of these daies then hath been used by many.1. That superstitió be avoided, that we thing not one day in it self better or more holy then another, but only so far as they are actually designed or applied unto the service of God: we must remember that these and other particular times, as places, are but circumstances in the time of the Gospell, the substance is in the worship and service that is given unto God thereupon, not in the observation of these or that particular day, which is in it selfe a matter of liberty, as the Apostle sheweth, Rom. 14.5 &c. Col. 2.16. And that may be a satisfactory reason why in the new Testament these things are not particularly, or expressly injoined in Scripture, because these are but matters of Order, and of liberty; not of absolute necessity, and therefore left to the moderation of the Church; but then we must remember that the liberty of Christians is first the right and interest of the Body, and then of the Members, who must not urge their particular interest against publique moderations and constitutions in these things; yes, it is a maine liberty that belongs unto the whole body of the Church, that she hath power to restraine the liberty of private Members by publique authority for the publique good; but Superstition must be avoided, as I have said; noe humane authority must impose these, or any such like things, as substantiall, unalterable, or absolutely necessary to salvation; but as matters of Order, as holy circumstances, and meanes conducible unto higher ends, and so and no otherwise they are to be received and obeyed by the people: according to this is that of the later learned Father of our Church, Non putandum plus sanctitatis uni disiinesse quam alteri, sed sciendum quod propter ordinem & praceptum Ecclesie alias[?] causas Jupra memoratas une die magis quam alio convenimus, ad hac exercitim sanctitatis.And againe, Non putandum, &c. we are not to thinke that they Church of God is tyed by any necessity to the immutable observation of these particular festivall daies: Sed statuendum, saith be, dies bosce humana authoritate constitutes cademposse tolli & mutari, fintilitas [?] & necessitas Ecclesie id postulaveris, nam omnisresper quascung: Causas nascitur per casdem diss[?]lvitur; But it must be so judged, that these daies which are appointed by humane authority may be abolished, and altered by the same: where the profit and necessity of the Church doth require it; for all things are dissolved by the same causes whereby they are established: But then this ought to be done upon good and true grounds, and by a power equall at least to that that hath established them.[Editor's Note: printed in the margin, near the top of this paragraph is the following text: “Bishop Davenaus upon the Coloss.c. 2.v.16.”]2. There must be care taken that there be a prudent moderation used in the number of such daies, that nothing be imposed over burdensome upon the people.3. That they be rightly imployed, not in Superstitious worshiping of Saints or Angels, as is in use in the Church of Rome, nor yet in riot, intemperance, or any other sinfull libety, as hath been the practise of too many amongst us, making little or not other use of such times, but to give themselves to idlenesse, loosenesse, and vanity; an evil that hath not onely violated the holinesse of these Festivals we speak of, but also the Lords day, which some have turned into Sabbathum Vituli aurie, into the Sabbath of the Golden Calfe, of which it is said, Exod. 32. That The people sate downe to eate and drinke, and rose up to play. Others into Sabbathum B[????] & Asinorum, the Sabbath of the Oxe and the Asse, spending it in calling and drinking, and doing nothing; and too many make little or no difference betweene that and other dayes: But onely in putting on their better cloathes, and giving themselves to none, or else worse imployment then all the rest of the weeke, as if bene vestiri & nibil agere, To be well attired, and to doe nothing were to celebrate the Christian Sabbath.And indeed it cannot be denied, but as this hath been the ill lot that too many have cast upon the Lords day, and other Festivalls: So it hath been too too much the share of the Solemnities appoynted for the celebrating of the Birth of the Saviour, and the rest of the Festivalls that the Church hath joyned with in, which instead of being made dayes of prayse and thanksgiving to God, and of the exercise of other holy, christian, and charitable duties with that sobriety that becomes Christians, have been made dayes of riot, and gaming, and wantonnesse, and unlawful liberty, as if men were to sacrifice to the Devill for these great and incomprehensible mercies of God: A great and intollerable abuse of such blessed opportunities, and such as, (although it doth not at al justifie men in the abolition of them, but should rather have set them upon the Reformation of those miscarriages, and the restitution of such times unto the first and profitable institution of them, That these evils and corruptions being removed, the divine Solemnities, and Religious Duties might have been returned and advanced still amongst us, to the comfort of the Church, and the honour of the name of God) Yet they may justly provoke God to deprive us of the comfort of these joyfull Celebrities, which wee have so miserably abused to his dishonour, and the hurt of our selves, and of our brethren: But these being the errours of particular men, they do not blemish the constitution of the Church in these things, which intendeth not such times for such evill purposes, but for the service and honour of god, and the edification of his people. And therefore as it must be the care of all good Christians to seperate the abuses into practice. So it is their part and duty to yeeld a ready obedience unto so profitable and wholesome a constitution; and as in other Festivalls, so in this of the Nativity of Christ, &c. This being as it were the rising of the Sunne of righteousnesse upon us with healing in his wings, and that whereon all the succedent worke of our redemption and salvation doth depend: And therefore as this doth in an eminent and speciall manner chalenge our praises and solemne services and acknowledgments unto God for so great a mercy: So the Authority of the Church in appoynting a solemne time, for such solemne service doth serve an holy and Scripture end, very acceptable to God, and by such a meanes, which he himselfe hath approved, and allowed the Church of God to make use of, and doth justly require our obedience thereunto which wee cannot withdraw ordinarily, without making a breach in that Communion of Saints, which is both our comfort to enjoy, and our duty to maintaine.And these grounds being thus layd, and well understood, I hope may satisfie any peaceable minded Christians, and arme them against all materiall temptations that your Queries (which you seeme to thinke such Giants) can offer against it; and therefore I might well enough perhaps set a period heere unto this present businesse: But lest you should thinke your selfe despised, or grow wise in your owne conceipt, and for your further correction, and the more full satisfaction of others, I offer you and them this short answer unto your Queries; and if you or any other shall thinke them in any thing wanting in that clearenesse which yours, and some other mens apprehensions may perhaps require; I shall by Gods grace be ready if I may be allowed liberty to doe it: To render all things out of question and to resolve all doubts that may rest behinde in a faire, calme, and Christian disputation, and discussion of the point with your or any other that shall in a sober and ingenuous way desire to enter into discourse with me thereabout.In the meane time take this briefe Reply unto your Demands.To your first Quære.Whether such religious customs as are binding to all the Churches of Jesus Christ, out not to have sure footing upon the Word of God or Apostolicall practice?Answer, That it is ground enough for the establishment of Customes in the Church, and to bind all Churches to the Christian observation thereof, so far as is required unto Church Customes, and matters of order. &c. That such Customs and Observations beingin themselves harmelesse, and conducible to those ends which Gods word preseribeth, are commanded unto us by the Authority of the Church Catholic; and because this Quære is somewhat too wide for the particular drift you aime at; give me leave to take away all doubt, to contract it a little by adding this Corolary: That in such things the Authority of any particular Church is sufficient to binde those that are within the Verge of it. The Examples of the Feast of Purim and of Dedication before mentioned will come in seasonably heere for the confirmation of this.To your second Quære.Whether you can substantially prove that Christe was borne on the 25 of December? And what your proofes are?Answer. That because as wee have layd downe the designation of this or that particular is a thing in it selfe indifferent (though the day being knowne wherein such mercies were performed may seeme more convenient then another.) The maine thing that wee rest upon being this: That God may be solemnely praised for so great a mercy, and to this end, that that day what ever it be, which is set apart by the Church for that holy purpose be duely observed: Therefore although there is perhaps more to be sayd heerin then you are aware of; yet to make short worke, and that they may be the easilier satisfied, who are not able to examine Antiquities: I answer that it is not at all necessary for us to prove substantially that Christ was borne upon the 25 of December; it is sufficient for us that the Authority of the Church hath appoynted that day to performe the duty of praise therefore unto God, neither doe wee so much depend upon that day, but if upon good reson an equall Authority had designed any other, it might be indifferent to us: To that God may have his honour in the solemnization of his great mercies, whether in this moneth, or that moneth, on this day, or that day, is of small concernment, but in poynt of order, peace, uniformity, and obedience; to dote upon this or that day otherwise is superstitious.To your third Quære.Whether the celebration of that day (grant he was borne on it) can be clearely warranted by you from Scripture? And what your Scriptures are?Answer, It is answered already in the Reply made to the two former, where you have been shewed, that it is neither necessary to be proved that Christ was borne upon that day, nor yet that there needes any particular Scripture warrant for the observation of such days, more then is expressed in the answer to the first, and the grounds that are layd before you, and so much hath been shewed wee have abundantly for this day. Viz. That the Church hath power to appoynt a day for so holy and excellent an end prescribed in Scripture, and warranted unto us by the practice of a Quire of Angells, of Simeon and Anna, Zachary and Eitzabeth, in the Divine Story.To your fourth Quære.Whether you can cleare it by sound consequence from the New Testament, though not set down there in toridem verbis?Answer, That which hath been sayd may suffice, in that the celebration of this day is appoynted by sufficient Authority, for those ends which are commanded in the New Testament, as is the rendring praise to God for so great a blessing of the New Testament, and is a meanes allowed by God for such purpose, and conducible thereunto, as hath been shewed in the grounds.To your fifth Quære.Whether you can doe it by universall tradition?Answer, That it is well knowne that the observation of this day hath been very Ancient, and doth appeare to be of universall reception; as (if leasure and opportunity would permit) might be manifested more abundantly, but for the present it may suffice to set down that notable testimony of St. Cyprian, a very Ancient Father, in his book de Nativitate Christs in initio. Adest (saith he, speaking of this Festivall of the Nativity of Christe) Christi inultum [?] de siderasa & diu[?] expectata Nativitas, adest Solemnit as inclita & in presentia salvatoris, grates, & laudes, Visitateri suo per orbem terrarum Sancta reddit Ecclesia. There is not present the much desired, and long expected Nativity of Christ; now is present that famous Solemnity or Festivall and the holy Church throughout all the World doth render thankes and praises to her visiter in the presence of our Saviour; and though it be sufficient to binde us; that so wholesome custome is enjoyned by Authenticall Authority in this Church and Nation, yet this and other testimonies that might be brought of the Antiquity and universality thereof, doe much strengthen the obligation that lies upon us, for the Religious observation thereof.To your sixt Quære.Whether (in case it can be evidenced by none of these, viz plaine Text, solled [?] Inference, universall Tradition) it be not a meere humane invention, and so Will worship? And how you will one day acquit yourselves before God, for placing, and crying up mens Inventions, instead of the institutions of Jesus Christ? And whether it were not faithfull dealing with poore simple people to tel them that you have neither of these to warrant it?I answer, it is already avoyded, and needeth no further Reply but this, first, that you have been taught if you can learne that wee have inference enough to satisfie men that will be content with evidence, and wish you would attempt nothing in the church, but what you could pleade half so much for: Secondly, that the observation of these particular dayes is not enjoyned by the Church, or used by us, as any substantiall part of worship, but as a circumstance of worship, and so can be no will-worship, no more then your appoynting this or that particular houre for preaching, and prayer upon a Lecture day, or the appoynting of dayes of thaniksgiving for Victories, for temporall deliverances, or of Publique Fasts by humane Authority (which as to the designation of the particular times are unquestionably of humane invention) and therefore to be accounted will-worship;p unless you will have the will-worship to lye in this; that these dayes we speak off are appoynted by good and full Authority, and that Christ is remembred therein; and now I intreate you to consider how you will one day acquit your selfe before God, for slandering and crying downe the wholesome orders and constitutions of the Church, to bring in division, confusion, and prophanation; and whether it were not faithfull in dealing with those poore simple people, that you or others have seduced into seditious and facious courses, and murmuring against Government and Order, to tell them you understood not things your selves, nor have taught them in the wayes of peace and righteousnesse, as you shoulde have done.To your seaventh Quære.(Since dayes and times commanded by God himselfe to be observed uner the Law, were, and are unlawfull under the Gospel) Whether dayes and times commanded by men, and not by God, under the Gospell, are not lesse lawfull.Ans. Those daies and times that were commanded by God himselfe to be observed under the Law, were appointed by him for that time, as types and figures of the things of Christ, as Saint Paul well instruct you. Coloss. 2.16.17, and in regard of that typicall use, and will the Legall necessity thereof are vanished at the coming of Christ, which is the body and substance of those shaddowes; and therefore though they be so far become unlawfull, it will by no meanes infer that therefore those daies and times which are commanded by men with sufficient warrant from God under the Gospell as conducible meanes unto Gospell-ends, and for the solemnizing of the glory of God for Gospell blessings, should be concluded unlawfull, since the aforesaid reason of the abolition of those things of the Law, is no way applicable unto the Festivals, or other wholsome constitutions in the time of the Gospell, which are neither injoyned as types, nor as things necessary to salvation, but as matters of order, and circumstantiall meanes for the promotion of those substantiall duties, not opposing, but asserting and magnifying the great blessings that God hath revealed, and imparted unto us in, and by, the Messias now come. But for your further instruction, I desire you to take notice, that in the Feasts of the Jewes, as there was something Ceremoniall, so there was Something Morrall: that they were of unalterable necessity restrained to such and such particular times, that they were to be celebrated with such and such particular Ceremonies, and were therein types and figures of the things of Christ, and the time of the Gospell and that by the indispencible obligation of the divine præcept; in these and such like considerations, they were Ceremoniall and temporary, belonging unto that Sate of the Jewish Church; But if they be considered as they were certaine solemn and convenient times set apart for the publique worship of God, and for the more solemne testification of their thankfullnesse unto him, for those great blessings and deliverances that they received from him; This was, as a learned Authour tell us, morale, & natureale, & cumcateris omnibus gentibus commane, it was morall and naturall, and common with them unto other nations. Now though that which is typicall and ceremoniall be abolished as a shadow by the coming of the substance. Yet that which is morall and naturall remayneth; it is still not only lawfull, but pious for the Jewes to set apart some times to prayse God for their deliverance out of Ægypt, and for those other blessings which that Church received from him, so that the typicall and properly legall use, together with the indispensable necessity of those particular times and ceremonies be cast away, it were no impiety in them, as matters of order, to make use of some or more of the same times which they formerly observed for this morall purpose. Yea we find St. Paul Acts 18:21, and 20.16 resolving and indeavouring to keepe one of those Jewish feasts at Jerusalem, long after the ascension of Christ, and the absolition of the ceremoniall part of the Jewish Law, and to take advantage of that solemnity to glorifie God amongst them. And if all this will not save you from a wonder, I intreat you to consider that the effect of the abolition of the Ceremoniall Law, was the taking away of the legall necessity and the typicall use of them, not the rendering of the matter of those Ceremonies unlawfull; and for your better satisfaction in this point, I refer you to a Treatise of mine lately set forth called, The sights of the Church and Common Wealth of England, pag. 312, 313, &c. where I hope you will find this matter abundantly cleared. And now the foundation of your seventh Quære being thus searched and found to be of so sandy a constitution, we need not trouble ourselves any more about the Quære it selfe: but to tell you in the words of a Reverend Divine, Quicquid nonnussi contra afferre solent pic & prudenter prospectus ost [?] ab Antiquis patribus, ut anniversarie in Ecclesia celebrarentur [?] ingeatis [?] illa beneficia incarnationis filli Dei, passe[?] is, resurrectionis, ascensionis, [?]issionis Spiritus Sancti, quorum [?][?][?][?][?] memoriam solemnitatibus constitutis consecranous, ne volumnine temporum ingratasurreperet nobis oblivie, ut loquitur Aug. de Civit. Dei. Lib. 10.c.4. Whatsoever some are wont to bring to the contrary, it was piously and prudently provided of the ancient Fathers, that there should be anniversary or yearly celebrations of those great benefits, of the incarnation of the Sonne of God, of his passion, resurrection, ascension, and of the sending of the Holy Ghost; the memorialls of all which, we consecrate by appointed solemnities, left, as St. Aug. speaketh, by the course of the times an unthankfull fortgetfullnes thereof should steale upon us. And the same learned Authour will shew you that we are invited heerunto by the obligation of gratitude that we owe unto God, as publique benefits are to be publiquely acknowledged, and to be celebrated with publique thanksgiving: which cannot commodiously be done, unlesse they that have the rule of the Church and Commonwealth, doe appoint set dayes for the people to come together to that purpose. Joel. 2.15.That we are incouraged heereunto by the peoples benefit which they may reape heereby in being upon such occasions made acquainted with the chiefe mysteries of salvation, which whether they shall be instructed in, or no, is a matter of too great concernment, to be left to the discretion of every private Minister; and therefore the Church hath thought fit to call upon them for it by these Festivals. And I pray God the attempts of the abolution of these memorialls, be not the drifts of some secret plot of Sathan, to make way for the stealing of Christianity out of this Nation: if we consider the motions of some other engines of his, together with this in these times, I doubt wee may find but too much cause to suspect it, and cause enough for all good people to desire to prevent it, by being unwilling to part with any the least lawfull meanes, that may serve to keep up the memory and impressions of Christ, and his wonderfull mercies in our hearts.He will shew you also, as I have done, how this practise is confirmed unto us by the examples of the godly people in the Scripture, who have appointed set and yearly dayes for such purposes, besides those that were commanded expresly and particularly by God himselfe. And I can adde that the same is yet further confirmed unto us, by the judgment and practice of holy men in the Christian Church, not only of the Ancients, but of many famous moderne Protestant Divines. As Melancthon, Hemingius, Scultetus, &c., all which being put into the same scale with the Authority of the Church of England, and the Law, which hath yet found no Authority equall unto it, to dissolve the Acts thereof in this kinde, will I doubt not weigh downe all the seeming reasons or divinity upon which you have grounded your Quæries.To your eighty Quære.Whether the true and genuine Interpretation of Christmas be Christ man? And whether to perswade people 'tis so, be not to abuse and delude them? And whether we may not as well interpret Candlemass Candleman, Michaelmas Michaelman, as Christmas Christman?Answer, That this is a question so childish or so vaine importance, and so of no concernement at all to the businesse propounded: That I might be excused if I should say no more, but either to wish you more wisdome and sobriety in the things of God and his Church, or if you know any that is guilty of making so foolish a descant upon that name of Christmas as your Quære presents, to leave you to him for a Reply; neither the Church of England nor I are bound to justifie the follies of particular men: But least your insinuated quarrell at the name of Christmas, should meete with any such weake judgements, as to produce any scruple (premising this, that these are things that neither the Church of England, nor I conceive any discreet childe thereof will stand upon any further then they serve to make us understand one another, and I wish all quarrels about names were so at an end amongst us) I say yet further, that the interpretation of learned Bishop Andrewes might have beene better thought on by you, then that fond one you have mentioned, reducing Christmas to Christimissa, and taking missa for missio; so that it may present the importance of the Feast. Viz. The sending of Christ into the world, or if this be liable to some exception; yet it cannot be denied but the word Masse, however it hath been corrupted in latter times, is from missa, and I believe your may finde that the word missa hath been of some use in the Church, and derived from a good and laudable custome of dismissing the Catechumeni before the Communion in the Primitive times, and may import as much s the Office, or Communion of the faithfull, and then Crist-masse may found as much as the Office or Communion of the faithfull upon Christs day, or in the praise of Christ, or in memoriall of him; or if you are loath to admit of this in justification of the word missa, I intreat you yet to allow thus much: That however evill the word is in the use of the Church of Rome, yet since you know it hath no such evill importance in the sense of the Church of England (and it is not unlawfull to reforme the abuse of words as well as things) thee can be no harme in the use of that title for distinction, no more then it was for St. Luke in the 17 of the Acts v. 22 to comply so far with custome as to call the street in Athens by the name of Mars his street, although Mars were an Heathen Idol, or to call Dionysius by the title of the Areopagite v. 34. I advise you therefore to take the Counsell of St Paul hereafter, for your owne goode and the quiet of others, and the Church, that instead of being such a one as he condemneth, 1 Tim. 6.4.5. sick of a spiritual sympathy, and [series of Greek words], doating or madding about questions and strife of words, whereof commeth envy, strife, railings, evill surmisings, froward disputations of men of corrupt mindes, and destitute of the truth; you would become such as he adviseth, 2. Tim. 14.23. That you strive not about words, which is to no profit, but to the perverting of the hearers; and that you would put away foolish and unlearned questions, knowing that they engender strife.

To your ninth Quære.Whether the Saints are bound to rejoyce in the Birth of Christ on that day men superstitiously call Christmas, more then a othertimes? And whether the Lords day be not (the) day appoynted for them to rejoyce on?Ans. Leaving your imputation that you lay of superstition upon the name of Christmas to the correction of that which hath been already sayd unto the Quære next before. I answer, that though Christians are bound at all times to rejoyce in the birth of Christ, which is sufficient to condemne the boldnesse of those that forbid men upon any time or day to do it by that rule of the Apostle, Philipp. 4.4. Rejoice in the Lord alway, and againe I say rejoyce; yet to helpe our infirmities, and to stir up our backwardnesse, and to make for the greater cheerfulnesse and solemnity of this joy, the Church hath done well and piously to appoint some speciall times to call us together to rejoyce in the great mercies of God, and in that regard it is more especially required of all her Children to do it at such times then at other times, and the fault is the greater to omit it then, in as much as to the neglect of the universall duty is added the sinne of disobedience against the wholesome orders of the Church, and a division therein of our selves from the Body, and a denyall of that concurrence and assistance that wee ought to give in the communion and fellowship of Gods people in those things which are publickly performed for the celebration of the praise and worship of God, and for the advancement of divine comforts in the Congregations. And though it be true that the Lords day is a day wherein they ought to rejoyce, which yet as to the particular day, is but a holy circumstance, and a matter of order, though established by great Authority, notwithstanding it is not (the) day in such a sence, as your parenthesis would perhaps insinuate, as to exclude all other dayes from the businesse of solemne rejoycing in Gods mercies; for how then will the fifth of November, and the dayes of Thanksgiving, that have beene of late appoynted, be justified? and therefore your question makes nothing against our conclusion; for though that day be to be observed for a day of joy in God, it does not forbid others to be so employed.To your tenth Quære.Whether Christmas day ought in any respect to be esteemed above another of the Weeke dayes? And whether people may not without offence to God follow their lawfull vocations on that day?Answer. In it selfe no day is necessarily to be esteemed better then another; for as the Apostle tells us, he that esteemeth all dayes alike doth it to the Lord. But in the use of it, as a matter of order, and as it is dedicated by a lawfull power in the Church, in a more especiall manner then the rest, in respect of obedience, order, and compliance with those sacred ends for which they are so designed, Christmas day, and other Festivalls of the Church ought to be esteemed above another day: For it is the duty of Christians to comply with one another and to obey Authority in those things that are profitable and conducible to holy and good purposes: And therefore it will follow, that without necessity, for people to depart from this Rule, and to doe it with contempt of Authority, and to the discouragement and hinderance of such holy ends and duties, by following their ordinary vocations which are lawfull at other times, is a breach of good order, a violation of unity, an hinderance to piety, and the holy Solemnity of such times, as well as to doe it upon a day of Fasting or Humiliation, instituted by humane Authority: and cannot be so done without an offence to God.To your eleaventh Quære.Whether you thinke the Parliament and Assembly have erred and played the fooles in condemning and rasing [?] out Holy dayes now warranted in the Word? And whether to observe them, be not highly [?]od sl[?]ke and flatly to contradict (in poynt of practice at least) their proceedings in order to a Reformation?Answer. I doubt not to say that they have erred in divers respects: First, in making unnecessary changes in the Church, which ought not to be done, but upon urgent causes; but doth discover in them that doe it a love unto change, which the wise man condemneth, Prov. 24.21. and is ordinarily of evill consequence to the Church, as wee finde by too lamentable experience; for whilst the people like those that are sick of a Feaver have thought good mutationibus pro remedits uti, to take such charge for medicines, their remedies have proved their greatest diseases; and now wee see how sick they are grown of their Physicians, and how sick the Physicians are of their owne administrations: Secondly, they have erred in going about to abolish so harmlesse and usefull a meanes of the promoting of Gods glory, and of the edification of the people: Thirdly, inundertaking to dissolve so laudable customes, and so universally and anciently received, and established by full power of the State and Church, either without any Authority thereunto or by a power inferiour unto that, whereby they were constituted: Fourthly, in doing those things without any admission of those that are contrary minded to be heard, or any faire discussion or debate of those differences that are in mens judgements thereabout: and therefore their proceedings therein are, and may be justly disliked and contradicted both by declaration and practice, without lying open to any such charge as you mention of opposing proceedings in order to Reformation, properly so called; such undertakings with the rest that are like them, being rather in order to a deformation. But whether in this they have playd the fooles, or no, I leave that to you to determine.To your twelfth Quære.Whether (since most men and women in England doe blindely and superstitiously believe Christ was born that day) preaching on it, doth not nourish and strengthen them in that beliefe?Answ. Although it be admitted to be a matter of some uncertainty whether our Saviour was borne upon that day, or not, yet (it being not materiall unto the lawfulnesse and wholsomnesse of the observation of the solemnity, as hath beene declared) if it bee an error in the people to apprehend so, yet it is an harmlesse one, and without the danger of superstition, which yet Preaching upon that day doeth neyther necessarily nourish nor strengthen in them. I shall not deny but there hath beene some difference in Antiquity concerning the very day upon which Christe was borne; but Hospinian, who was no friend unto the Church in these things, confesseth, That from the most ancient times, it was celebrated on the 24. of December; which hee prooveth out of Theophylus, a very ancient Bishop of Cesarea Palestina, who lived about the time of Commodus and Severus the Emperours. The Arguments that are brought against the reception of this day, for the very day of our Saviours Birth, from the imposition of the Taxe of the Romane Emperour, and from the shepherds watching of their sheepe by night, are not at all concludent, but of weake importance, to overthrow so ancient and received an opinion in the Church: Though that time might be lesse convenient for people to travell into their owne Countries, as was required in that imposition of Augustus, yet it is no strange thing in Magistrates, and those both prudent and pious, to passe through such small and private inconveniences for the obtaining supplies of publique necessities; it would be a very weake argument, if any should heereafter undertake to prove this unhappy Parliament began not in November, because that Moneth is usually none of the best seasons to travell from the several parts of this Kingdome to London in. And though sheepe are tender creatures, yet that season is not of the same bitternesse in all Climates, and if I mistake not, as tender as they are, they are even in this Northerne and cold Climate folded sometimes without dores in the winter: if the difference about this point be such that no certaine resolution can bee found, it is lawfull for the Church to make choice of such a day for the purpose of this solemnity, as appears most convenient. And what day more convenient, then that which as it is confessed to have beene most anciently received, so is commended too by the universality of the practise and consent at least of all the Westerne Churches therein? and if God be served and praysed by us in such holy and solemne maner as is due for so great a mercy, upon that day which the Church hath injoyned, it will be, no doubt, as acceptable to God, as if it were done upon some other day of your choyce, whether it be the very day of Christs birth or no: and I hope you doe thinke it fit, that some day or other may bee imployed in so good a businesse. The onely question then will remaine, whether the Church and Magistrate, or you bee fitter to choose, which is not worth the discussing.To your thirteenth Quære.Whether this Feast had not its rise and growth from Christians conformity to the mad Feast Saturnalia (kept in December to Saturne the Father of Gods) in which there was a Sheafe offered to Ceres Goddess of Corne; a hymne in her praise called [Greek title]? And whether those Christians by name, to cloake it, did not afterwards call it Yule, and Christmas (as though it were for Christs honour?) And whether it be not yet by some (more ancient then truely or knowingly religious called Yule, and the mad playes (wherewith 'tis celebrated like those Saturnalia) Yule games? And whether from the offering of that Sheafe to Ceres; from that song in her praise; from those gifts the Heathens gave their friends in the Calends of January, omnis [?] gratia; did not arise or spring our blazes; Christmas Kariles, and New yeares gifts?Answ. That the originall and growth of so pious and holy a practice in the Christian Church, should be allowed no other root but a supposed confirmity of Christians to the madde feasts of Saturnalia, when there are so many better and clearer fountaines to derive this from, in the order that it hath unto Scripture end and duties, to Gospel and Christian performances, and in the warrant that it hath from Scripture examples in like matters, is an argument of some want of charity in those that goe about to infect men with such perswasions. Charity engageth us to judge the best even of the actions of private men, much more of the publike constitutions and observations of the Church; whatever abuses have beene brought in by wicked and loose men to corrupt and deprave these wholesome ordinances, (which we approve not nor will undertake to justifie) There is no confirmity nor compliance at all, betweene the holy aymes and intentions of the Church of God, in the appointment of this or other festivalls, and thte franticke, loose, and impious manage of the Saturnalia among the Heathens. These are appointed by the Church to bee dayes of piety and sobriety, of prayse unto God for his great mercies, of spiritual joy in his divine comforts and holy delights in our Christian societies, of hospitality and mutuall offices of Christian love one to another, which are the true and proper employments of holy festivalls, commended and warranted unto us by the word of God. If any practises have crpt in (as there have too many) to the depravation of these times, and disappointment of those ends for which they were instituted, by riot and loosenes, or such rude cariages and demeanours which may be too truly sorted with the Heathenish Saturnalia, they have been anciently reproved, as Hospinian will informe you by that which hee hath cited out of that famous Oration of Gregory Nazianzen upon the Nativity of Christ: And he will tell you a Sory too if you will beleeve it of one Otherus and some others to the number of 15. who being reproved by Rupertus A Priest for prophaning that night of our Lords Nativity, by light and lascivious dancing and singing, and required from him, ut ab hujnsmods la vitate in nocte tam sancta desisterent: That they would desist from such lenity in so holy a night, when they would not yeeld unto this wholesome advice, But persisted in the vaine exercises they were about, upon the prayer of Rupertus that they might continue dancing so all the yeare long, They did so continue night and day for the space of a whole yeare: and he cites Trithemius in chron. Hirsang. for the Author of this Story; which if it be true doth not at all the oppose, but confirme these constitutions of the Church, as the judgements of God sent upon those that are the prophaners of the Lords day, are brought to justisie the obsevation thereof; it doth indeede disallow the abuses thereof, which as they were anciently condemned, so wee condemne them still, being contrary as to the righteous commands of God, so to the wholesome institutions of the Church: I earnestly exhort all Christians carefully to avoyd all such courses and miscarriages, and to sanctifie this and other such like Festivalls unto God in holy and Christian duties as they ought, and the Church enjoynes, left they answer the contrary d[??]rely unto God, as well for the enormity of their virious carriages, as for the prophanation and scandall that they thereby bring upon these profitable Orders of the Church, and their sacrilegious robbing of God of such times which are consecrated to his Divine Worship, That they may employ them in the service of the Devill: But in the meane time I cannot but wonder at the strange dispensations of these times, wherein for ought appears, there is more strictness used against the preaching of the word of God, and holy exercises upon these dayes, then against any of the foresayd abuses and miscariages. Wee have heard of the persecution and imprisonment of Ministers for attempting to preach the Word of God, upon the festivall of Christs Nativity, and of strict and forcible prohibition thereof; but whether there hath beene halfe so much strictnesse against riot, or lightnesse, or vanity, at such times, let it be considered; and surely such dealing is no good character of a Reformation. They that do so, winnow not with Gods sieve, but the Divels, shaking out the wheat, and retayning the chaffe; they are no good Physicians, that purge out the good and wholesome humours, and leave those that are corrupt and distempered behind, nor is this the way to procure health unto the body. In the name of God if they meane to reforme, as they talke, let them distinguish betweene good and evill, betweene healthful and profitable institutions, and pernacious and abusive depravations, and let these be removed, and those established if it doth appeare that the time of this Festivall doth comply with the time of the Heathens Saturnalia, This leave no charge of impiety upon it; for since things are best cured by their contraries, it was both wisedome and piety in the ancient Christians, (whose work it was to convert the Heathens from such as well as other superstitions and miscarriages) To vindicate such times from that service of the Devill, by appoynting them to the more solemne and especiall service of God and to recall people from that practise of wickednesse by calling them unto the practise of true holinesse thereupon. As for that you adde about your Yule games, it is not materiall, after that which hath beene sayd, and therefore for brevity sake I passe it over. The Blazes are foolish and vaine, and not countenanced by the Church. Christmasse Kariles if they be such as are fit for the time, and of holy and sober composures, and used with Christian sobriety and piety, they are not unlawfull, and may be profitable, if they be sung with grace in the heart. New yeares gifts, if performed without superstition (and you must have ground ere you may charge them without it) may be harmless provocations to Christian love, and mutuall testimonies thereof to good purpose, and never the worse, because the Heathens hve them at the like times. The Heathens use to eate at noone, and so doe wee, if it be harmlesse to joyne with them in houres designed for acts of nature; why not in dayes designed by us for acts of love and mutual affection; if those dayes and their practice thereupon be tainted with superstition, it will not follow that ours must needs be so, or is it now lawful for us to employ those dayes well, because they doe ill? But this is no Religious but a Civill matter, and therefore not requisite to stand much upon it; no great matter whether that custome be held up or no, and yet there is no need in such times as these to discourage and forbid acts of love and mutuall kindnesse. This Age is not sick [?] of any superstuities in this kinde in the general, and therefore no great needs of physick for such diseases: Trouble not your self therefore any more about this matter; if you dislike New-yeares gifts, I would advise your Parishioners not to trouble your conscience with them, and all will be well.To your fourteeth Quære.Whether confirmity to, and retention of Heathenish Customes be commendable in Christians, sutable or agreeable with Gospel Principles, though under pretext of Christes Honour and Worshippe?Answer. You seeme to me to be ignorant, and have taken up opinions at too easie a rate; give me leave therefore to informe you a little: All Customes are not Heathenish that are observed among Heathens; it is a custome with Heathens to kneele at prayer, yet this is no Heathenish custome; it is a custome with Heathens to institute publique Fasts, and dayes of Humiliation in times of danger and calamity, will you say therefore that Christians are Heathenish, or comply with Heathenish customes in doing the like? Or if wee may joyne with them in appoynting dayes of fasting, why not as well in appoynting dayes of feasting, as long as wee joyne not with them in superstition about either? Wee must not deny Christ because the Devills confessed him. It is no good Christianity in the people of this Age to hate their brethren, because the Publicans are friendly unto theirs, Math. 5.47. Wee are not sure bound to prophane all times that the Heathens have superstitiously consecrated, if wee are, I doubt you will scarce have halfe an houre in the day or night left you for your devotions: Wee may joyne with Heathens or any in those things, that are good and wholesom. Heathenish customes cannot be good, but many customs of Heathens may: They have learnt, it is probable many practices of Religion from the people of God, and have corrupted the Coppies that they have taken from the Originalls, it is not necessary therefore for Gods people to cast away the Originalls which are pure and good. Heathenish customes are such as stand opposite to the doctrine of Christ and the Gospel: The Religious observation of these Fewstivalls makes for both; to appoyne and observe a day holyly and religiously for the solemne praise of God for Christ, and Gospel mercies, cannot be sayd to be against Christ or the Gospel; since the former is honoured, and the latter preached and published by this meanes: This therefore is no Heathenish custome; take you heed of complying with an Heathenish designe of abolishing the memory of Christ and Christianity from amongst us, it is a danger worthy of a double caution, it is not a pretext of Christs honour. But the truth thereof that justifies these dayes, and is the proper and holy business of them; wee desire not to march under such colours, but leave them rather to those that under pretext of Religion are busie to overthrow all Religion amongst us: I neede not tell you who they are, but wish you take heede of them.To your fifteenth Quære.Whether you re not bound to prove your practice for the conviction and satisfaction of your Brethren, whose duty it is to walke with you in things agreeable to the minde of Christ? And in case you cannot; Whether you ought not to acknowledge your errour, lay downe your practice (as others have done theirs) no longer befooling and misleading the people committed to your charge?Answer, I have sayd thus much for your conviction and satisfaction, and with it may worke to well with you, that as it is your duty, so it may be your practice to walke with us in things agreeable to the minde of Christ; and therefore I hope wee are sufficiently discharged from any necessity of confessing any errour in these thinges, and that it doth by this time appeare that there is much more neede of reforming yours, and of laying downe your practice as others have done theirs, no longer befooling nor misleading the people committed unto your Charge; that you may from hence forth teach them the wayes of peace and righteousnes.To your sixteenth Quære.Whether in case you returne no Answer to these Quaries, I have not ground sufficient to conclude you utterly unable to give any rationall account of your practice, now put upon it?Answer, Sir, you have an Answer to your Quæries, and therefore have no ground left you sufficient to conclude us unable to give any rationall account of our practice, which I wish you may receive with a Christian minde, that you and others may reape the fruit with a Christian minde, that you and others may reape the fruit thereof: Let your Study be Unity, for that is the way to felicity.The God of peace and holynesse direct you and us all into the wayes of peace and holynesse, that wee may no longer foster divisions and strife amongst us, to the joy of our adversaries, and the reproach of the Gospel; but that following the truth in love, wee may in all things grow up into him, which is the head, even Christ.--------Nor for all the paines I have taken to answer your Quæries, I shall desire you to answer but one of mine, viz.Whether you think doth savour of most piety and good will unto Christ and his honour, to forbid the preaching of Gods word, and the celebration of the praise of God for his great mercies upon the 25 of December, or upon any other day, or to enjoyne it? Or whether it becomes Christians to prohibit the worke of God at any time?

Child singers of Christmas carols carrying a star with icon of a saint. Bucharest, 1842.

2011-12-20T16:00:00.000-08:00

A Medieval Christmas Carol

2011-12-20T15:46:00.000-08:00

From: Jokinen, Anniina, ed. "What Tidings Bringest Thou." Luminarium.26 Nov 2009.

What Tidings Bringest Thou?:: What tydynges bringest thou, messenger,Of Christes birth this Yoles day? ::A babe ys born of hye nature,Is prins of pes & ever shal be.Of hevene & erthe he hath the cure,His lordshyp is eternite.Such wonder tydyngys ye mow here,That man is made now Godys pere,Whom synne hadde made but fendes praye.:: What tydynges bringest, &c. ::A semely syght hit is to se,The berde that hath this babe y-borneConceyved a lord of hye degre,A maiden as heo was byforne.Such wonder tydyngys ye mow here,That maide & moder is one y-fere,And alwey lady of hye aray.:: What tydynges bringest, &c. ::This maide began to gretyn here childe, Saide: "Haile sone, haile fader dere!"He said: "Haile moder, haile maide mylde."This gretynge was in queynt maner.Such wonder tydyngys ye mow here,Here gretynge was in suche manerHit turned manys peyne to play.:: What tydynges bringest, &c. ::A wonder thynge is now befalle;That lorde that formed sterres & sunne,Heven & earth & angelys alle,Nowe in mankynde is byginne.Such wonder tydyngys ye mow here,A faunt that is not of o yere,Ever hath y be & shal be ay.:: What tydynges bringest, &c. ::Notes:Yoles day - Yule Day; Christmas Day.hye - highprins of pes - Prince of Peace.Of heven... cure - he has power over heaven and earth.wonder tydyngys - wondrous tidings.mow here - may hear.Godys pere - God's peer.fendes praye - fiend's (Devil's) prey.semely syght hit is to se - pleasing sight it is to see.berde - maiden.hath this babe y-born - has given birth to this child.A maiden as heo was byforne - a virgin, as she was before [bearing the child].That maide & moder is one y-fere - that maid & mother are one and the same.of hye aray - of great estate; magnificence.queynt - elegant.manes peyne to play - man's punishment (in hell) to enjoyment (in heaven).is now befalle - has now befallen; has happened.sterres - stars.angelys - angels.in mankynde is byginne - is born as man.faunt - infant (from the Fr. "enfant").not of o yere - not even one year old.Ever hath y be & shal be ay - always has been and always will be.

An English Christmas in Paris

2011-12-20T15:36:00.000-08:00

From: The Illustrated London News, 22 December, 1883. Drawings by A. Forestier.

click to enlarge.

A Draft of Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" from 1843

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The first National Christmas Tree was placed near the White House in 1923.

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The Pilgrim Thanksgiving in 1621

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An extract from: THE FAST AND THANKSGIVING DAYS OF NEW ENGLAND BY W. DeLOSS Love, Jr., Ph. D.; BOSTON AND NEW YORK; HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY. 1895.

"The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth" (1914) By Jennie A. BrownscombeThe account of this occasion found in "Mourt's Relation" [page 133] is so frequently referred to that it is given in full: "Our harvest being gotten in, our Governour sent foure men on fowling, that so we might after a more speciall manner rejoyce together, after we had gathered the fruit of our labours; they foure in one day killed as much fowle, as with a little helpe beside, served the Company almost a weeke, at which time amongst other Recreations, we exercised our Armes, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and amongst the rest their greatest King Massasoyt, with some ninetie men, whom for three dayes we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed fine Deere, which they brought to the Plantation and bestowed on our Governour, and upon the Captaine, and others. And although it be not alwayes so plentifull, as it was at this time with us, yet by the goodnesse of God, we are so farre from want, that we often wish you partakers of our plentie."

"Girl Reading By A Window"

2011-10-02T21:58:00.000-07:00

Over the years, artists have portrayed the reader and the act of reading in favorable light. Far more women than men have been photographed or painted as they read. Here is an excellent example. It is an oil painting by Edmund Charles Tarbell and is entitled "Girl Reading By A Window."

Henry Cabot Lodge's 4th of July Speech in Boston in 1879

2011-06-30T19:46:00.000-07:00

Oration delivered before the City council and citizens of Boston, on the one hundred and third anniversary of the Declaration of American independence, July 4, 1879 by Henry Cabot Lodge at the Boston Theatre.

We meet to-day to commemorate, with customs honored in the observance, our national birthday. In this matter of birthdays, nations resemble individuals. The recurring anniversary is hailed in childhood with rejoicing and pleasure. It marks a period of rapid advance, and denotes another step towards manhood, and all its fancied independence. In due time the youth comes of age. Technically and legally, at least, the period of tutelage and immaturity is at an end. But with the acquisition of freedom a gradual change begins. Few persons go so far as Dean Swift, who passed his birthday in solitude, as a day of mourning, fasting, and prayer. Yet, to almost every one, I think, as he goes on in life, the birthday suggests more and more serious reflection. Gradually we turn our eyes, when the day arrives which closes each little cycle of our existence, from the future to the past. We strive more and more earnestly to draw from the departed years lessons which shall guide our footsteps upon the unknown pathway before us. If this be rightly done, it is at this period, when we have both a future and a past, that we achieve success.

So it is with nations. By the signatures of the Declaration of Independence we came into existence. By the signatures of the treaty of Paris, that existence was acknowledged in Europe. By the adoption of the Constitution, nationality, then only a possibility, became a probability, which, after many years, has ripened into certainty. Then came our boyhood, and the struggle to cast aside the colonial spirit, and shake ourselves free from the influence of older and stronger nations. This was a longer and more arduous process than we can readily realize now. If the world had been at peace, our task, wonderfully difficult under any circumstances, would have been somewhat simplified; but everything seemed to combine against us.

Civilized mankind was in the throes of the French revolution. Through the first period of that awful convulsion Washington and Hamilton and Adams steered us successfully into the haven offered by the peace of Amiens. There was a short lull, and then the tempest raged again more violently than before. The old pilots were gone, and there was no one who could fill their places in such stress and peril. We were the only important neutral nation in the world, and our rich and defenceless commerce was an inviting prey. We broke from our moorings, and drifted out upon the stormy seas of the Napoleonic wars, assailed by all, befriended by none. It was painfully evident then that we were still children, and still in tutelage, intellectually, if not physically. To our shame be it said, both political parties made it their principal business for ten years to accuse each other of foreign predilections. We displayed at every turn the violent anger and infirmity of purpose which characterize the headstrong and impetuous boy, whose powers are yet untried, and who lets " I dare not wait upon I would." It was a sorry time. . But the previous years of peace and union had not been useless. After sore humiliation and bitter insult had been tamely borne by the country a national party at last came into existence. They pushed aside the old leaders and the old provincial feelings, and resolved to fight. They acted blindly, hotly, and, in many ways, unwisely. They were not Washingtons, and could not imitate his policy. But they took the ' methods of the Federalists and the theories of the Democrats, and determined to assert their nationality by arms. In so doing they hurried the country into a desperate and losing war. They brought the Union to the verge of dissolution. They abandoned by treaty everything which they had sought to obtain by force. But they vindicated the national existence, they proved the fighting qualities of the race to be as fine as ever on sea, and at last on land, and they broke once for all the fetters of colonial thought and tradition. They did their work roughly and ignorantly, but they were right at, bottom, and by the treaty of Ghent we came of age.

Then followed a period of wild exuberance and exultant hope. By the almost magic growth of material prosperity, by the rapid spread of civilization, and by the new-born consciousness of nationality, men's minds were filled with visions of a political millennium. We became imbued with the belief that we had a great mission. All humanity was to come as to the promised land, and be relieved. The fertile imagination of Henry Clay devised the scheme of uniting all American States. This human freedom league, controlling the western hemisphere, was to resist the Holy Alliance of emperors and kings, and bring in the new world to redress the balance of the old. Doubts as to our system, or as to the perfection of humanity, when freed from oppressive government, were regarded as heresy. We were to reorganize society, and change the destiny of man. In our vanity, our self-confidence, our unwillingness to learn or to recognize and correct our faults, above all, in our morbid sensitiveness to ridicule, we showed only too clearly our youth and inexperience.

But, while we were rejoicing and looking forward to the beneficent and enchanted future, where our dreams were to become realities, a dark cloud was gathering over the prospect. Gradually it became evident that two distinct social systems had grown up within our borders, which were so wholly irreconcilable that even this broad land could not afford room for both. One must perish that the other might survive. With every advancing year the immutable laws of economy and industry widened and deepened the gulf between the opposing systems, and strengthened one side while they weakened the other. Free labor was stifled in an atmosphere where slaves breathed, and free labor held in its hands the destiny of the republic.

There might have been a time when this awful problem could have received a peaceable solution; but, when men were at last awakened to the facts, and prepared to deal with them, it was too late. Beneath the baneful influence of the slavery struggle, politics and public men degenerated, and the old statesmanship of the republic withered away. Great leaders, in Congress and elsewhere, cried, "Peace, peace;'' but there was no peace. Our social problem was a Gordian knot. We followed the example of Alexander, and untied it with the sword.

The greatest war of modern times, since Napoleon fled from the field at Waterloo, and all the far-reaching results of such a war, have made sad work with our illusions. They are gone, like our extreme youth, and we begin to turn our look backward for instruction as to the journey which once seemed so easy and so full of promise. We have reached the second stage in our national birthdays. The time for reflection has come. If we can profit by the teaching of the past, although the future no longer looks either so golden or so certain as of yore, we may still find in it a greater, better, and truer success even than that which once filled our youthful imaginings. On this day of the year it especially behooves us to make up our accounts and see how we stand. We may well pause for a moment in our hurried, nervous, busy life to contemplate the years which have gone, and see what we have done with them. We are growing old, old enough to have a history, old enough to study it carefully. Let us take, then.

That great, wise book, as beseemeth age,
While the shutters flap as the crosswind blows,
And we turn the page, and we turn the page,
Not verse, now, only prose.

We are in the very prime of life as a nation. We are still young, still growing, still plastic and able to learn. But we have also passed the period of immaturity; we are vigorous, powerful, rich, and masters of a continent. We have made for ourselves a history, and we have our heroes and our heroic age, — an age full of human passion and human error, but great by its struggles and its conquest of difficulties.

We are wont to revert to the war for independence as our most glorious time. So, in some respects, it was. But the Declaration of Independence is eclipsed by the adoption of the Constitution and the organization of the government. It is better to create than to destroy. If we had fought the Revolution merely to obtain the wretched Confederation, and then dissolve into petty and jarring States, it would have been more honorable to have remained an integral part of the great empire of England. But this was not to be. We proved ourselves worthy of our inheritance, and capable of the moderation, temperance, and foresight which resulted in the Constitution. With the inauguration of Washington our national existence became a fact, and to the history of-, our career from that time to this we must look for guidance and instruction.

Although history, as a science, is still in its infancy, we have gone far enough to perceive a few great laws of human development, and from these, as they are the greatest and simplest, we learn the most, our own history we can easily detect the governing forces which have shaped our destiny, and struggle for victory. Two great conflicts of opposing principles have gone on here side by side. Nationality and separatism, aristocracy and democracy, are the contending forces which have made the political history of the country, and been felt throughout society and all its manifold forms of activity. All these forces existed in the States of the Confederation. They were present at the debates on the Constitution, and, from the foundation of the government, they have battled for the great prize of its possession and administration.

In the old system of the Confederation the separatist principle was supreme. Every State looked out for its own immediate interest with selfish and short-sighted ingenuity. The general government was despised and rejected. Anarchy seemed at hand. By a grand effort the wisest and most patriotic men framed and carried the Constitution. They succeeded, by means of judicious compromises, in "extorting from the grinding necessity of a reluctant people" a bare assent to the new scheme. Whatever glosses may now be put upon the Constitution, and upon the debates which preceded it, there can be no doubt that it was regarded at the time not only as an experiment, but as an agreement. Irrationality had but a feeble life in 1789, when the first Congress met in New York. There is no need to dwell upon the growth of the national principle embodied in the Constitution, or the phases of the conflict which ensued between that principle and the older one of State sovereignty. They, at last, contended for dominion sword in hand, and the events which led to four years of civil war are as familiar as a twice-told tale.

Everyone knows that, with each advance of the national power, the separatist spirit started up with fiercer menace and contested the ground. Sometimes the State prevailed, and sometimes the nation. Finally the rights of States were appropriated to the service of slavery, which gathered to itself every interest and every passion almost of which human nature is capable. At last slavery drew the sword of State rights and struck at the national existence. Then it was seen that the Constitution had silently done its work. The puny infant of 1789 had become a giant. When the bit of bunting which typified national existence was assailed the national spirit burst forth. Men were ready to bear with slavery and with all else, but there was one thing they would not part with, — their nation. The strong instinct of nationality started up and filled the hearts and minds of men. Like other instincts it found no exact expression; it gave rise to no formula, but the strength of the people was in it, and was resolved that the Empire of the West should remain intact. All else might perish — that should not. Whether for good or ill, the nation should remain united, the empire should not be shattered into jarring and discordant States. In this spirit the battle was fought and victory gained. Whatever else might come to pass, the Union under one flag was assured so far as human exertion and human sacrifice can assure anything.

So much of the long struggle is over. That we are a nation, and not a confederacy, has been decided by the dread arbitrament of the sword. We may again have civil war, — which God forbid! — but we shall not fight for our national existence. If we do fight, it will be for the possession of the national government, not for its overthrow. The national force, social- and political, is supreme.

The history of the great conflict is familiar, but it is well to call it to mind and dwell upon its results and lessons. We owe our existence as a nation to the Constitution, and to its silent work during three- quarters of a century. Our first feeling ought to be one of gratitude to that great instrument, and to the men who framed it. Such gratitude, however, can be expressed only by reverence for its provisions and scrupulous observance of its limitations. Herein lie the merit and value of a written constitution, if it has any, and who can doubt this when its work is considered? Formed by wisdom and patriotism, the Constitution rises up over the warring passions of party, to check and to control. There is the rule of action for the majority; there, and there alone, can the rights of the minority find shelter and protection.

The Constitution, if we heed its provisions, gives time for cool second thought, and, as nearly as possible, personifies reason and law, staying the action of excited force. The man or the party who violates it endangers our liberties. They are the enemies of the national charter. The greater the majority which overrides its provisions, the greater and the more unpardonable the sin, for the Constitution has within itself means to remedy legally and deliberately its own shortcomings.

Foreign critics have sometimes found fault with our excessive reverence for the Constitution. We do well to venerate that which has made us a nation. But let us beware of mere lip-service, and take care that in practice we submit to and observe it. We are too ready to infringe both the letter and the spirit of the constitution in the excitement of party contests. Nothing can be more fatal, for within its sacred limits lies the well-being of our political system.

Within those limits, too, lies the defeated principle in the great conflict between nationality and separatism. In the last decisive struggle the rights of States were sorely wounded. It could not have been otherwise, when their most zealous advocates used them as the sword and shield of slavery, and dashed them against the strong rock of national existence. The injury then suffered by the rights of States is one of the gravest results of the war, simply from its effects upon our minds and habits of thought. "We have been insensibly led to regard a violation of State rights with indifference, if not with approval. The principle of States' rights is as vital and essential as the national principle itself. If the former, carried to extremes, means anarchy, the latter, carried to like extremes, means centralization and despotism. So long as we have the strong barrier of the States, we are safe from usurpation and plebiscites. Here in the North, States' rights have naturally become words of evil significance, and are even used to revile political opponents. This is not only bad in itself, but it involves an amount of historical hypocrisy which is intolerable. The most meagre outline of our history suffices to show unmistakably that the separatist principle has existed everywhere, and has, at some time, burst forth everywhere into dangerous activity. If this teaches nothing else, it should at last enforce the wholesome doctrines of consistency and charity.

That separatism should have existed everywhere was not only natural but inevitable. The government of each State was old, familiar, and beloved when the Union was formed. The State represented "the past. With its existence were entwined all the memories and traditions which carried men back to tile toils and sufferings of their hardy ancestors, who bad made homes in the wilderness that their children might be free and receive a continent for their inheritance. The hearts of men were bound up in their States. The Federal government at first appealed only to their reason or their interest. To their States they turned as the objects of their first allegiance. This sentiment knew neither North nor South, East nor West. Nothing is more false than to associate the doctrine of States' rights with any particular part of the country, or exclusively with those States which last invoked its aid. Nothing is plainer than that the States and the party in power have always been strongly national, while the minority, call it by what party name you will, has as steadily gravitated toward States' rights.

There has never been a moment of peculiar stress and bitterness when the truth of this has not been brought home with sharp distinctness.

Washington and Adams and Hamilton were strong nationalists, and vigorously supported a liberal construction of the Constitution. The opposition, led by Jefferson, resisted the central government, advocated strict construction, and leaned upon States' rights. But the wheel revolved, and Jefferson became President. He retained in office all his old theories, but his practice was that of his predecessors. No one ever pushed the national power further, or strained the Constitution more boldly, than Thomas Jefferson. The famous alien and sedition laws of the Federalists paled before the stringency and oppression of the enforcement act, which almost drove Massachusetts into rebellion. Both measures were said to be demanded by national safety; both were the work of a national administration, and they were severally carried through by parties of diametrically opposite principles. On the other hand, the Federalists, once out of office and a hopeless minority, drifted into States' rights, and used them freely against the national government. The Union was never in greater peril than in 1814, when New England threatened secession unless the administration and ruling party yielded to her demands. With characteristic caution, she stayed her uplifted hand and waited a little longer. The wisest and most temperate leaders among the Federalists put aside the more violent, in order to guide and check the separatist movement, and thus maintain a control which open opposition would have destroyed. But no one then doubted either the meaning or the danger of New England's altitude. If the blow had fallen, the Union would have been dashed in pieces, without hope of recovery.

States' rights belong to no party and to no State. They are as universal as nationality; and that they are so is proof of their value. But they go much deeper than their name implies. They involve a principle as old as the race itself. This principle was born in the forests of Germany, is recorded in the pages of Tacitus, and came with the wild Teutonic tribes across the channel to Britain more than a thousand years ago. It is the great Anglo-Saxon principle of local self-government, and is the safe- guard of our liberties now, as it has ever been in the past. Without it there is no health in us. It should be more jealously watched than any other, because the tendency in large communities is always towards centralization. We see illustrations of this tendency every day, in the growing habit of both parties to judge every question according to its expediency, and not according to the constitutional principles, which they, as parties, are supposed to represent. There seems to be no desire anywhere to oppose a measure, simply and solely because it leans more toward centralization than is warranted by the Constitution. This tendency is full of peril. Our government is a system of checks and balances. Destroy one element, and the whole fabric falls. Nationality is strong and safe. Our most important duty is to protect our local rights, wherever they exist, and feel as the colonies did when the Boston Port Bill passed, that the cause of one is the cause of all.

Two lessons are clearly written on the pages which record the strife between the inborn love of local independence and the broader spirit of nationality created by the Constitution. One is reverence for the Constitution; the other, a careful maintenance of the principle of States' rights.

Let us turn for a moment to the other great conflict, which has gone on side by side with that between nationality and separatism. The opposing principles of aristocracy and democracy, of government by part, instead of government by all, of class- rule, in contradistinction to the rule of the whole people, have entered more deeply into our manners, habits, modes of thought, and daily lives than the purely political forces. The latter are better understood and appreciated, but the former, silently and almost unnoticed, have striven to possess and retain every nerve and fibre of the social and political body. Incidentally the conflict between aristocracy and democracy became involved in that between nationality and separatism, and met its fate upon the same field; but its history and origin are, nevertheless, wholly independent.

We are too apt to forget that an aristocracy of strong social and political influence existed in a greater or less degree in every one of the thirteen colonies when they threw off the yoke of the mother- country. In Virginia and the southern States there was a pure aristocracy in theory and in fact. It rested upon the firm foundation of great landed estates, a tenantry of slaves, and broad class distinctions. Government was wholly in the hands of this ruling class, and the Virginian system continued to sway the South until the day of Lee's surrender. In New England, on the other hand, the political system was democratic, and modeled upon the church system of the early Puritans. Here, too however, there was an aristocracy from which our early leaders were chiefly taken; but their power and influence rested only upon consent. They were permitted to guide and govern, deference was yielded to them, and official position freely given, but solely on account of ancestral service to the State, of ability, wealth, or learning. Such an aristocracy may be an ideal one, but its tenure of power is precarious, and its supports are frail. The middle States contained both Virginian and New England elements. Great families, owning vast estates, dominated New York, but mainly by dexterous management of the masses; while, in Pennsylvania, the democratic principle had the advantage, and the aristocracy, from its own supineness, seems to have had less power even than in New England.

This wide-spread, aristocratic element, which was so powerful a century ago, made itself deeply felt in all matters of government. We find in the early State constitutions ample provisions for the representation of the upper classes, and for the restraint of democracy, as well as many and various limitations upon the suffrage. The aristocratic principle came out strongly in the convention which framed the constitution of the United States. “We are too democratic, and means must be found to check the spread and the action of democracy," was the cry of many members in that convention, including some men who soon after followed the Jeffersonian standard. The great party which carried the Constitution, organized and set in motion the government, held possession of it for twelve years, and nearly overthrew it in their last struggle for power, was an aristocratic party, and wished to build up and consolidate a ruling class.

They aimed at the creation of an aristocratic republic, and a strong and energetic central government. They shrank with undisguised horror from the idea of universal suffrage, and, embittered by the spectacle of the French revolution, regarded pure democracy as equivalent to anarchy, and, as of necessity, a government by the worst elements of society. They fought manfully to maintain and carry out their theory, and they failed. They were contending with an irresistible social and political force, and the accession of Jefferson not only marked their defeat, but accomplished a complete revolution in our theory of government. From that time the democratic principle was supreme. But customs die hard. Even after the vital principle is gone habits live on. The theory was established, but more than a quarter of a century elapsed before the practice was changed. There was still a ruling class from which the men to fill high office were for the most part selected. Birth, education, social position, wealth, and training still continued to be most important requisites for a statesman. At last the second revolution came, and practice was made to conform to theory. With the election of Andrew Jackson, qualities, inherited or acquired, which raised a man above his fellows, and had been supposed to imply peculiar fitness for public life, were cast aside forever as tests for employment in the national service.

Ability, property, training, reputation, were not only no longer required, they became positive disadvantages. A “self-made" man, who had started with nothing, and worked his way up, despite ignorance and poverty, from the log-cabin in the backwoods, was considered to have better claims, solely on account of his antecedents, than one who had been bred to the profession of state-craft, and had every opportunity for improvement which wealth and care could give. The new practice, carried by the impulse of victory to extremes, was every whit as false as the old. It simply reversed the ancient order, and declared that favor should be extended to those who had formerly stood at a disadvantage. Class discrimination was as strong as ever, in a new form. But all class distinctions are foreign to the spirit of our political system, no matter what portion of society is the favored one. They are utterly alien to the theory of administration which was accepted and laid down at the outset as the guiding principle of our government, and in accordance with which the best men, and the best men only, were to administer public affairs and be properly remunerated for their labor. This was a business theory, upon which our system was founded, and it worked capitally until, as was said by Mr. Evarts, I believe, the corollary was added, that one man was just as good as another. It was this corollary which was swept into power with Andrew Jackson, and it was anything but a business theory. It never obtained for a moment, in any walk of private life, where fitness has always continued to be the test of selection for places of trust and profit. In public affairs alone it was forced into practical operation. We are still reaping the results of this distortion of democratic principles.

It would, however, be a mistake, to suppose that, because the national government had at last become purely democratic, class rule and aristocracy were therefore at an end. The Virginian system still prevailed in the South, and still held sway at Washington. The aristocracy of Virginia had perceived at an early day that they could not gain supremacy without northern allies. These they obtained with great sagacity and perfect success. They could form no alliance with the northern leaders in the days of the Federalists, so they turned to the masses. The people of the Northern States were altogether democratic, and had no real sympathy with slave-holders and great landlords. But the Virginian system was impregnable at home, and the Virginian leaders stepped boldly forward as the friends of humanity and equality, and as the advocates of doctrines which, if applied to their own State, meant total destruction to the very system that gave them power. Under the cloak of democratic principles, Virginia divided the North, and the curious spectacle was presented of the aristocratic portion of the country ranged on the side of democracy, while aristocracy made its stand and fought its last desperate fight under its true colors in the most thoroughly democratic States.

The Virginian policy worked admirably. For twenty-four years Virginia retained the presidency. For thirty-five years more the South controlled the national government. Under the withering and debasing influence of slavery the Virginian aristocracy rapidly degenerated. They ceased to be the class which had produced Washington and Marshall. Virginian aristocracy broadened into a southern aristocracy, and lost the qualities which had once made them so much more than mere slave-drivers and plantation lords. The aristocratic force remained, but its graces and virtues had departed, blighted by slavery and by the constant defence of what men in their hearts knew to be a great and crying iniquity. Still they held on, while violence and truculence usurped the place of courtesy and good-breeding, and drove out those other attributes which had once given the southern leaders a high and acknowledged position.

But other forces were at work, and the opposing systems met at last in battle. On the field of Gettysburg the democracy of Plymouth and the aristocracy of Jamestown came together in arms, and the principles of the Puritan triumphed once more over those of the Cavalier. As in the days of Charles I., aristocratic principles had allied themselves with a bad cause, and met with the defeat which that cause merited. The last class government was utterly swept away. We are finally democratic throughout the length and breadth of the land.

With the civil war the first era of our history closed. It is settled that we are to be one nation, and we have established a pure representative democracy. These results have been accomplished by tremendous sacrifices and exertions, and they bring with them a mighty responsibility. We have undertaken a gigantic task. We are making the greatest experiment in government ever attempted. We have built up an empire so great that, whether for evil or good, it is a chief factor in the affairs of civilized mankind and of the world. We have gradually evolved a political and social system which has, on the whole, produced a greater amount of human happiness and well-being than any other. We have done more to raise the condition of the average man than any other nation. To us belongs the solemn duty of maintaining this system, and of making this experiment of a great representative democracy succeed.

It is a momentous and difficult task. We cannot escape it. We cannot retrace our steps. We must either maintain our system as it is, or plunge blindly forward. We have reached the last point of safe progress in government. We have conferred sovereignty upon every man in the community, and, unless we include women and children, there is no possibility of further expansion in this direction. The step from democracy is to socialism, and although socialism is not an immediate danger in the United States, it here and there rears its ugly head and breathes its false spirit into our laws and party resolutions. It must be crushed out before it gathers strength; for socialism means anarchy, and anarchy can have but one result, the order of military despotism. Our position is difficult, and fraught with peril, but we have proved ourselves capable of great things, and we have no reason to falter. Yet, if we wish and mean to succeed, we must lay aside careless indifference as well as fear, and take seriously to heart some of the pregnant lessons of history.

The great secret of the political success of our race lies in its conservatism, in its ability to reform and not destroy in order to create anew. "We have adapted our forms of government to the changing necessities of the times, by clinging to the past until sure of the future, by holding fast the good and rejecting only the bad, and by sturdy contempt for inconsistencies, provided the system practically worked well.

But, in this country, by our youth, by our success, and by the marvelous changes we have wrought, we have been led to forget these principles. We have become too apt to concede that a change is worth trying, simply because it is a change. We are too ready to admit that everything is open to argument, instead of adhering, in some measure, at least, to the practice of our ancestors, who believed that there were certain laws and institutions upon which all civilized society rested, that were not susceptible of discussion. Let us revert to the traditions of our race, and practise a little more wholesome conservatism. No change should be made in our political system until it has been well considered and conclusively demonstrated that it is not a change for the worse. Progress is a fine word, but it is not necessarily a good thing. It may be progress in evil as well as in good. It may be as bad as reaction, and much worse than standing still.

In another respect, which nearly affects the success of our great democratic experiment, we have departed from the maxims of our ancestors and of the founders of the republic. No men were ever more skilled than they in the difficult art of free government, and they knew well that the sphere of legislation was not boundless. They believed that legislation could assist human effort by giving security to all, and thereby extending the best opportunities for great achievements. But they taught the doctrine that the individual man should rely upon himself, and not upon his government, for well-being and success. They were firmly convinced that legislation could not be a panacea for every ill that flesh is heir to; that it could not prevent human passion and error, and their legitimate results, or free men from misfortune and from the consequences of their own folly and mistakes. The fathers of our system had learned by bitter experience that legislation should be restricted to the very well defined field where effective action is possible, should leave room for every man to exert his talents, and, above all things, should not be meddling and paternal. This was sound, wise doctrine. But there is now a growing tendency to invoke legislation to cure the results of our own blunders; to regard it as a universal remedy for every mishap, and to carry it out of its proper sphere and force it to do work which belongs to the individual man. Such helpless leaning upon legislation is false in theory, dangerous in practice, thoroughly unmanly, and as peculiarly un-American as anything can possibly be. It is diametrically opposed to the independent, self-reliant spirit which has made America what she is. Strong,' masculine races have no need of paternal legislation. It is their worst enemy.

But there is one danger to our democracy which far surpasses all others in gravity and importance. When the government was founded, although there was a well-defined aristocracy, the social and economical conditions were much more favorable than at present to the successful establishment and working of a pure democracy. Great fortunes were rare, and extreme poverty was almost unknown. Men stood, as a rule, pretty nearly upon an equality in the matter of property and physical well-being. Agriculture and trade were the only pursuits of the community. There were no great centres of population. The largest cities were hardly more than small towns. Huge masses of capital were not collected for the prosecution of vast enterprises. Life was simple, and class distinctions rankled in no man's breast, despite the power and position of the aristocracy.

As the years have rolled on we have become a pure democracy, and, meantime, all the social and economical conditions have radically changed. Immense fortunes are no longer rare, and desperate poverty is only too common. Great corporations, controlling vast amounts of capital, have come into existence. Great cities have grown up, and complicated industries have spread, or are spreading, over the whole country. From a small society, where material equality reigned, simple in its tastes, habits and pursuits, we have become a great nation, with all the intricate and delicate machinery of a high and luxurious civilization, filled with glaring inequalities of condition.

In this state of affairs there is one thing absolutely fatal to the continuance of democratic government, and that is, strife between classes. Under the old and equal conditions this was not to be feared. Nearly everybody had a stake in the peaceable existence of the country and in the continued stability of the government. All men knew, with the keen instinct of those who have something to lose, the ruin which lurked in social disorder and in any invasion of the rights of property. The population then was also largely rural and widely scattered, and such inequalities as there were did not come home to men by daily and unavoidable contact. Now, enormous and defenceless wealth dwells side by side with hopeless poverty. In the progress of our wonderful development we have brought together a great deal of very inflammable material. Let us see to it that it is not ignited, as it might easily be if one class is aroused against another.

Here is the terrible foe of our system. Here is the enemy which, once let loose, will bring our fair experiment crashing in ruins about our heads. Scrupulous protection of private rights and private property has been the great secret of our success and the chief glory of our popular government. This essential principle can be destroyed not only by force, which is little to be feared, but quite as effectually, although more insidiously, under forms of law. In either case the meaning is the same. It is one part of society attacking the other, and if this war between classes comes the present scheme is ruined. It begins with statutes and constitutions, and ends with the bayonet and the barricade. While political divisions run up and down, we are safe; but, when they begin to run across society, the end is not far distant.

To the diminution, and, if possible, to the removal, of this danger, which can now be easily dealt with, our best efforts should be directed. A brand should be set upon the man who strives to stir up war.

THE FRENCH IN ALGIERS IN 1836.

2011-06-24T13:56:00.000-07:00

Excerpts from: THE PRISONERS OF ABD-EL-KADER, FIVE MONTHS' CAPTIVITY AMONG THE ARABS.By M. A. DE PRANCE, LIEUTENANT IN THE FRENCH ARMY. Translated From The German And French By Lady Duff Gordon, Translator Of The Amber-Witch. NEW-YORK: WILEY AND PUTNAM, 161 BROADWAY. 1845. (Note: Believed to have actually been written in French by Ernest Alby and translated into English by the Arabist Lucie Duff Gordon.)

I had gone only a few steps, when a troop of Arabs suddenly poured out of a ravine, came down upon us at full gallop, and surrounded us on all sides. They advanced towards me, crying, "Semi! Semi!" (Friends! Friends!) Deceived by these exclamations, I turned to explain them to the Doctor, when one of the Arabs snatched at the musket which I held in my hand; this showed me their real intentions, and I instantly fired at the Arab who had tried to seize the musket, and broke his shoulder. He dropped his gun, which was loaded, and was forced to throw his arm round the neck of his horse to prevent falling off. I darted at the gun, but two Arabs took aim at my head, and as I turned away to avoid their fire, one ball gave me a slight wound on the head, and the other passed through my shirt and grazed my breast.
I had not lost sight of the wounded Arab's gun, and stooped again to pick it up, when something rough slipped over my face; I raised my hands to it, and felt a rope round my neck; at the same moment, a violent jerk brought me to the ground, and an Arab, who had the other end of the rope fastened to his saddle- bow, set off at full gallop.
My cries and entreaties were all in vain; the Arab spurred on his horse, and I was dragged half-strangled through rocks and briars. This horrible torture lasted some minutes, until the horse was forced by steep and stony ground to slacken his pace, when I got on my feet again. In spite of the wounds with which my face, hands, and legs were covered, and the stunning effects of such a shock, I still had strength to seize the cord so as to keep myself from being strangled, and to run forward and catch hold of the horse's tail.
But as soon as the other Arabs, who had been dispersed by the sailors sent to our assistance, rejoined their companions, I was loaded with abuse and stripped nearly naked. Our misfortune had been seen from the brig, which immediately fired upon the Arabs: but every shot cost me a fresh shower of blows, and the horse to which I was tied took fright at the noise and started forward, and I again fell to the ground; the Arabs ran after me, beating me all the time; and if by chance I succeeded in getting on my feet, my pitiless persecutor set off again at a gallop, casting looks of contempt upon me.
The incessant galloping of the horse, and the violent jerks of the cord which dragged and rolled me among the rocks and briars, leaving a track of blood behind me—the abuse and the blows of the Arabs, lasted a quarter of an hour: this sounds but a short time, but it seemed very long to me.
As soon as the Arabs thought themselves out of reach of pursuit, they halted in order to cut off my head. The rope was taken off my neck, my hands bound behind my back, and I was tied to a dwarf palm-tree. I was so tired, that I lay down upon the ground perfectly indifferent to the fate which I knew awaited all prisoners taken by the Arabs. I had but one sad thought, of my family and my poor sister; but this was soon driven away by the near approach of death, and the animated scene in which I, though chained and silent, was the principal person.
A violent discussion had arisen among the Arabs: they brandished their sabres over my head, and each claimed the pleasure of cutting it off, all crying at once, "I took him, I have a right to cut off his head;" and each, to prove the truth of his assertion, showed a fragment of my shirt or of my coat. The Arabs were already taking aim at one another, and exclaiming, "I ought to cut off his head, and I will kill you if you don't let me enjoy my rights," when a horseman galloped up and threw into my lap the head of Jonquie, one of the sailors; as I turned away in disgust at this horrible spectacle, I saw the Arab whom I had wounded lying on the ground about fifty paces off. He could scarcely support himself, and was endeavoring to aim at me with a pistol which he held in his left hand. But horsemen were every instant passing to and fro before him, and he dropped his hand, patiently awaiting the favorable moment to fire.
I was expecting the end of this horrible discussion with some impatience, when the arrival of another horseman changed the determination of the Arabs. This was Adda, a spy of Abd-el-Kader, who had often visited us at Arzew, where he feigned an intention of establishing himself, and allayed any suspicion we might entertain of him, by assuring us that his frequent visits were for the purpose of selecting some favorable spot for the settlement of his tribe. Delighted at the good-will he manifested towards us, we had frequently invited him to dinner. But the traitor had far different designs. He made use of his visits to mark the exact spot to which our cattle were driven: he had determined to seize them, and it was with that object that he had hidden himself in the ravine with the troop which had taken me prisoner.
When Adda saw them furiously disputing who should kill me, he exclaimed that I was an officer, and that Abd-el-Kader would give them much more for my head if it was left upon my shoulders, and would willingly replace the three horses they had lost if I were taken to him alive. But the Arabs still continued to brandish their yataghans over my head, with the most horrible imprecations against the dog of a Christian.
Adda used still stronger arguments; and when the dying Arab had been removed, it was decided that I should be presented alive to Abd-el-Kader, who was to choose the manner of my death, after paying my ransom and replacing the horses which our men had shot.
I was then released from the tree, and a rope was passed through the cord which bound my arms. An Arab took hold of either end, and we started for Old Arzew. After a march of two hours we reached Old Arzew. I was worn out with fatigue and suffering—naked, wounded, covered with dust and sweat, and dying of thirst: and I expected that my body would be left without burial at Arzew, while my head would serve to adorn Abd-el-Kader's tent.
As I was with the advanced guard of the Arabs, I was one of the first to arrive at Old Arzew. I threw myself upon the ground beside a fountain, and counted the troop which had attacked us as it defiled past me: there were about two hundred men. We halted for a quarter of an hour to rest the horses and to let the men eat a little. I was unable to swallow anything but a few figs and a little water, and had just dropped asleep when the chief gave the signal for departure, and I started under a guard of twenty-seven horsemen. Just as we were setting off, an Arab brought me a straw hat with poor Jonquie's head in it, and bade me carry it. I refused, and was instantly assailed on all sides by blows and abuse, and cries of "Carry the head, dog of a Christian." "I will die first," said I, throwing myself on the ground; and the Arabs were about to dispatch me with the butt-ends of their rifles, when Adda, who was very anxious to deliver me alive to Abd-el-Kader, interposed. The head was hung to the saddle-bow of one of the Arabs, and after venting their ill-humor on me by more blows, we started.
+ + +
At length I fell, exhausted with fatigue. It was three o'clock, and I had walked since five in the morning, and my feet were torn and bleeding. The Arabs mounted me on one of their horses, but in a quarter of an hour the owner of it dragged me off its back by my leg. I walked for two hours more, and then rode again. At length we arrived about nightfall at the camp of the Borgia tribe.
Here I was exposed to the blows, insults, and spittings of men, women, and children. A tent was pitched for my guards into which I was but half admitted, and I lay on the earth beyond the carpet.
Our party had chickens boiled with kuskussu for supper, which they ate voraciously; I should have been very glad of a bit, but they considered me unworthy of such a dainty, and flung me a handful of kuskussu, which I could not swallow, as it was dry and bad, and my throat was so sore. After supper the Arabs returned my shirt to me and sent a negro to put irons on my feet. My legs were so swollen that the pain of forcing the irons to shut brought tears into my eyes: this treatment was as useless as it was cruel, for I was not able to stand, much less to run away. I stretched myself on the bare ground and slept soundly till the next morning, when the brutal negro woke me by giving a violent shake to the irons on my feet, which hurt me dreadfully.
I endeavored to rise, but instantly fell again; my feet were lacerated and swollen, and all my wounds ached with cold and fatigue. The Arabs, seeing that if they compelled me to walk I should soon expire by the road side, at length gave me a horse to ride, and we continued our journey towards Abd-el-Kader's camp, which was not above ten leagues off. But for fear I should be too comfortable they hung poor Jonquie's head at my saddle-bow: it was already in a state of putrefaction, and the Arabs, seeing the horror and loathing with which it inspired me, amused themselves by piercing it with their swords and yataghans to increase the smell by exposing the brains to the action of the sun and air.
+ + +
Abd-el-Kader's camp stood in a grove of fig trees, on the road from Mascara to Mostaganem, and the tracks of the wheels of the French artillery were still visible in the very midst of it. On arriving at the first tent my guards forced me to dismount, and in a moment I was surrounded by a host of Arabs of every age and both sexes, shouting and screaming—"Son of dog," “Dog of a Christian," “Cut off his head," &c, with the usual accompaniment of blows and spitting.
Presently the chaous came to my rescue, and by dint of vigorous blows they at last succeeded in delivering me from the hands of these savages, and conducted me to Abd-el-Kader's tent. My first reception in the camp had not been of a kind fitted to dispel the fears with which I went into his presence.
But as soon as Abd-el-Kader saw the pallor of my face he smiled and motioned me to sit, saying, "As long as thou art with me fear neither insult nor ill usage."

Emboldened by this gracious reception I asked him for something to drink, as, thanks to my guards, I had not drank since the day before. Abd-el-Kader immediately ordered me to be conducted to the tent which served as a store-house, and there I received a melon, some grapes, white bread, and water. The melon was so good, the water so cool, and Abd-el-Kader's manner had been so humane, that my hopes and my appetite revived. After devouring the melon and drinking a whole jar of water, I was again led into the Sultan's presence. His tent is the most magnificent in the camp: it is thirty feet long and eleven feet high; the inside is lined with hangings of various colors, covered with arabesques and crescents in red, blue, green, and yellow. A woollen curtain divides it into two unequal parts, in the furthermost and smaller of which is a mattress on which the Sultan sleeps. At the further end is a small entrance for the service of the tent and the slaves especially attached to the person of the Sultan: these are Ben Abu and Ben Faka, of whom I shall have to say more hereafter. During the day the tent remains open and accessible to all.
On the ground, in one corner, lie four silken flags rolled up: these are borne before Abd-el-Kader on every march by four horsemen; the first flag, belonging to the cavalry, is red; the second, that of the infantry, has a horizontal yellow stripe between two blue ones; the third, two horizontal stripes—one green and the other white; and the fourth is half red and half yellow. Every Friday these flags are unfurled in front of the Sultan's tent. There is also a small mattress covered with a carpet, on which lie two red silk cushions; at each end of the mattress is a chest, and behind it two other chests; the whole is then covered with a carpet, and forms Abd-el-Kader's sofa: the chests contain his clothes and money. A carpet is spread on the ground for strangers. These things, together with a high footstool, covered with red silk, which serves the Sultan as a horseblock, constitute all the furniture of the Sultan's tent.
The tent is always guarded by thirty negroes, who are never relieved, and have no other bed than the earth. A good many chaous are always in attendance, ready to obey the commands of their ruler.
I will now endeavor to describe a man, of whom at present very little is known. From all that I had heard, I expected to find a bloodthirsty barbarian, always ready to cut off heads: my expectations were false indeed.
Abd-el-Kader is twenty-eight years of age and very small, his face is long and deadly pale, his large black eyes are soft and languishing, his mouth small and delicate, and his nose rather aquiline; his beard is thin but jet black, and he wears a small mustachio, which gives a martial character to his soft and delicate face, and becomes him vastly. His hands are small and exquisitely formed, and his feet equally beautiful; the care he takes of them is quite coquettish: he is constantly washing them, and paring and filing his nails with a small knife with a beautifully-carved mother-of-pearl handle, which he holds all the while as he sits crouching on his cushions with his toes clasped between his fingers.
His dress is distinguished by the most studied simplicity; there is not a vestige of gold or embroidery on any part of it. He wears a shirt of very fine linen, the seams of which are covered with a silk braid terminating in a small silk tassel. Over the shirt is a haick, and over the haick two white bernouses; the uppermost garment is a black bernouse. A few silk tassels are the only ornaments about his dress; he wears no arms in his girdle, his head is shaved, and covered by three or four scull-caps, one within the other, over which he draws the hood of his bernouse.
Abd-el-Kader's father, who died about two years ago, was a marabout called Mahadin, who, by means of his fortune, his intelligence, and his character for sanctity, had acquired very great fame and influence among the Arabs. Twice in his life he had made the pilgrimage to Mecca, and prostrated himself before the tomb of the Prophet. In his second journey he was accompanied by his son, who was but eight years old. Young as he was, Abd-el-Kader acquired a great deal of useful experience, and learned Italian: he could already read and write Arabic. After returning from their pious journey, Mahadin instructed his son in the difficult study of the Koran, and at the same time taught him the conduct of affairs.
As soon as we had concluded a peace with the Arabs after the taking of Algiers, Abd-el-Kader employed himself in exciting the tribes to revolt, in feeding and exasperating their animosity towards us, in stirring up their religious fanaticism, and above all, in endeavoring to obtain the sovereign power over them. This, the talent, the energy, the bravery, and the cunning of the young marabout soon procured for him; he quickly became their chief, and is now their Sultan.
The second time that I went to the Sultan's tent, he was seated on some cushions with his Secretaries and some marabouts, crouching in a semicircle on either side of him: his smiling and graceful countenance contrasted charmingly with the stupid, savage faces around him. The Chief Secretary first attracted my attention by his Tartuffe expression, and the rogue has always persuaded Abd-el-Kader to ask a large sum for my ransom.
The Sultan, with a smile of the greatest kindness, bade me be seated, and asked me, in Arabic, my name and where I was taken, and on my answering his questions, told me to fear nothing so long as I was with him.
+ + +
We were awakened very early next morning by the roll of a drum very ill beaten; I instantly rose and spent the whole day in wandering about the camp, and observing the habits and the discipline of Abd-el-Kader's soldiery.
The tents of the infantry are pitched in a circle which encloses those of the cavalry; each tent contains fifteen or twenty men, whose horses are tethered outside with ropes, tied round their fore-feet.
The Sultan's tent stands in the very centre of the camp, with an open space before it for his horses and those of his attendants: he always has eight or ten horses ready for his own use. A straight avenue is left from the front of his tent to the very edge of the camp where a cannon is placed with its muzzle turned towards the plain. This is the Sultan's whole artillery, and in very bad order it is. When I was there it was mounted on a broken French carriage, and the touch-hole was so large that the powder flew out from it in a perfect stream of fire, and burned the hands of the Arabs who fired it. It was only used for salutes and rejoicings. Close to the cannon is the gunner's tent. Behind Abd-el-Kader's tent is that of the muleteers, and round it are picketed the mules which carry the baggage. Near the kitchen tent are a hundred camels which carry the barley and the biscuits for the soldiers, and a flock of sheep and goats, one of which is given to each tent every Friday. Each tent furnishes two men every night to guard the camp,—one watches from sunset till midnight, the other from midnight till daybreak. During the day there are no guards. As soon as it dawns the drum beats and the watch is relieved. A small quantity of detestable biscuit, full of dust and straw, is given to each soldier, and the horsemen give a measure of barley to their horses; they only let them drink once a day, at five o'clock, p.m. At four p.m. the soldiers have a meal of boiled barley, and the chiefs of kuskussu.
+ + +

The Arab cavalry now wear a red jacket and Turkish trowsers of the same color, with a haick and bernouse over them, and slippers on their feet; they have a rifle, a sabre, and a dozen cartridges in a box slung over the shoulder with a belt, which never leaves them. Their saddles are made of wood, with a loose cover of morocco leather, and so high before and behind that the rider sits as in a box; the stirrup leathers are very short and the stirrups very large, with sharp points which serve for spurs: they, however, wear spurs besides, which are here iron spikes about eight or ten inches long. Only the horses belonging to merchants, and destined for long journeys, are shod, but none of Abd-el-Kader's. The horsemen put six or eight coarse blankets on their horses' backs to keep the wooden saddle from wounding them. In spite of this precaution, however, nearly all the Arab horses are galled on the back: they are never groomed, but merely have some water dashed all over them when they are taken to drink; they are exposed by day and by night to rain, heat and cold; and accordingly an Arab horse seldom lasts more than six years.
The infantry wear a woollen vest, Turkish trowsers, a black jacket with a hood, and slippers: like the cavalry, they have a rifle, a cartridge box, and a knife at their girdle; the richest among them add to this a dagger, pistols, and a yataghan.
In the camp, as well as in all other places, the Arabs pray six times a day,—at three, six, and eight in the morning, at noon, and at four and eight in the evening: at the hours of devotion the marabouts turn to the four cardinal points and call the faithful to prayer with a slow and solemn voice, saying, “God is God, and Mahomed is his prophet; come and worship them." A marabout then recites the prayer in each tent. The faithful begin by rubbing their hands and faces with dust; they respond to every act of devotion of the marabout with an inclination at the words “God is great," and kiss the ground in token of humility; as soon as the prayer is ended they wash their faces. The band plays three times a day before Abd-el-Kader's tent: three musicians standing, play the hautboy, three others, also standing, beat the tambourine with a stick, and three seated on the ground, play with small sticks upon bowls covered with goat-skin. Their repertoire is very scanty. I never heard more than three tunes, which they perform till the Sultan is tired and dismisses them by a sign.
Each chief has a coffee-maker in his retinue. These coffee-makers erect a tent to which the Arabs go to drink coffee and smoke very bad green tobacco.
+ + +
I had already asked the Sultan's permission to write to Algiers and Oran, to acquaint the authorities with my captivity, and my arrival at Abd-el-Kader's camp. At eight o'clock that evening I was conducted to his tent, where he gave me his own pen, made of a reed, a bit of coarse paper about the size of my hand, and his inkstand, which was made of brass, of an oblong shape, with an inkbottle at one end and a drawer for the pens at the other. A slave brought a brass candlestick, such as stand on the altar of a village church in France. I lay on the ground, and with the Sultan's jewel-box for a table, I wrote one letter to Admiral Dufresne, and another to General Rapatel, describing the sufferings of Abd-el-Kader's captives, and entreating them to negotiate our exchange as quickly as possible. I then delivered the two letters to Abd-el-Kader, who promised to forward them next day.
We were awakened very early in the morning by the chief of our tent shouting, “Dogs of Christians, sons of dogs, get up! the tent is coming down, for the Sultan has ordered the camp to be raised." Scarce were the words out of his mouth than the whole tent came tumbling down upon Meurice and myself. This was one of the thousand pleasantries with which the Arabs continually entertained us. We were still struggling to disentangle ourselves from the tent, in which we lay caught like fish in net, when a drum beat the reveille, which was followed in a few minutes by the signal of march for the infantry, which accordingly started. The camels, mules, and pack horses were immediately loaded with all the camp equipage, stowed in panniers woven of the leaves of the dwarf palm. A third beat of the drum gave the signal of departure to the muleteers and camel drivers. Meurice and I were placed in the centre of this detachment, which was under the command of Ben Faka. In obedience to the Sultan's order, we were mounted on the two mules which carry Abd-el-Kader's own coffers; the Italian sailors were worse off,—they rode on camels. Among the baggage, I observed eight very ill-joined chests; these contained the reserve cartridges. Whenever the camp is raised Abd-el-Kader, who, like every other Arab, begins his prayers at three in the morning, does not cease from them until all the other tents are struck, and it is time for the slaves to strike his; he then quits it, and seats himself at a short distance on a silken cushion surrounded by the marabouts and chiefs. Meanwhile the horsemen assemble, and place themselves in a line on his right hand, with Muftar at their head, and the thirty negro slaves are drawn up in a line on his left. The chiefs and the marabouts next mount their horses, and as soon as the baggage has passed the limits of what was the camp, a slave comes forward leading the Sultan's horse, followed by another bearing the footstool which he uses as a horse-block. Abd-el-Kader's favorite horse is a magnificent black charger; he is the best rider I ever saw among the Arabs; and as his legs are disproportionately short for the length of his body, the Arab fashion of short stirrups, by concealing this defect, sets off his figure to great advantage, and his appearance on horseback is at once graceful and imposing. As soon as the Sultan is mounted, the chiefs give the signal of departure; the nine musicians ride at the head of the column, followed by eight Arabs bearing long rifles in red cloth cases; I have often asked leave to examine them, but the Arabs always answered, “They are the arms of the Sultan; a dog of a Christian like thee is not worthy to be hold them." Next came four more horsemen bearing the four flags which I have already described, and then Abd-el-Kader, in the centre of a line of horsemen: behind him are the thirty negroes, and they are followed by all the rest of the cavalry pell-mell. The Arabs never set out on an expedition until the sun has risen.
No order or discipline is kept on their marches; thus, if a soldier sees a fruit tree, or a solitary tent, he leaves the line to strip the one or pillage the other.
Two strangely-harnessed mules, more lean and broken-winded than hackney-coach horses, drag the solitary cannon. Not a day passes on which it is not overturned and half buried in the mud.
+ + +
Abd-el-Kader laid a double tax upon the surrounding tribes to punish them for having given a favorable reception to Ibrahim, Bey of Mostaganem. Every day the horsemen brought to the camp great booty in horses, sheep, and oxen; and in Abd-el-Kader's tent the whole day was passed in counting the money which had been seized: this does not imply that the sums were immense, but that the Arabs count over their money ten or fifteen times. The Chief Secretary, whom by virtue of his office I am bound to consider as the most enlightened man in the camp, used frequently to come into our tent, and crouching behind a bale of goods, entirely hidden under his haick, count and recount his money for hours together. In spite of the most stringent measures and of the zeal displayed by the Kaits in collecting the tribute, it was hard to make the Arabs pay it, and Abd-el-Kader sent a party of horsemen to their tents, who returned in the evening laden with every kind of booty, and driving before them herds of horses, cattle, sheep, women, children, and negroes.
At the news of the arrival of these prisoners a number of Arabs came to the camp, in order to see whether they might not be able to buy a few negroes, or a woman or so, at bargain. If, after casting a rapid glance over the slaves who were crouching on the ground, the buyer saw one whose appearance struck his fancy, he made him rise and examined all his limbs, as we examine a horse or a bull, made him open his mouth, and, if it was a woman, pressed her breasts to see whether there was milk in them. The unfortunate wretches bore it all with the most perfect indifference, and when the bargain was struck, they followed their new masters with an air of utter insensibility.
Among the prisoners for sale who were in our tent, was a beautiful black girl of about fourteen; she had large soft black eyes, lips like coral, and teeth like the pearls set in the handle of a yataghan; her legs were like those of a race horse, and her feet and hands smaller than those of a Spanish woman; her shape was perfect, and the slenderness of her waist contrasted beautifully with the fulness of her hips; for the poor girl, contrary to the custom of the women of' this country, had confined her white haick round her middle with a red worsted cord. Her beauty, and the fineness and cleanness of her dress, clearly showed that she had been the property of wealthy people. The poor girl laid herself on the ground beside me, weeping and lamenting, and refused the food that was offered to her.
Seeing her so beautiful and so unhappy, I tried to comfort her; but she said, “I was so happy in the tent from which they robbed me, and now I shall be made to sleep outside with the horses: I shall have no kuskussu to eat, and I shall wear a torn and dirty haick;" and she wept again.
Before long, a chief of the Garrabas came into the tent: he had brought the head of a French soldier whom he had surprised that morning in a field near Mostaganem, so that he was welcome in the camp. He was rich and wanted to buy slaves. At the sight of the young negress his eyes brightened with pleasure, and he ordered her to rise. The slave obeyed, she was subjected to the most minute examination and found faultless. The Garraba turned to Ben Faka, and said, “Fifty boutjous!"
"I must have eighty boutjous (JS10) for her," said Ben Faka. “She is not worth them."
“Did'st thou ever see so beautiful a negress?—Open thy mouth." The slave obeyed.
“Look,what teeth! there is not one missing!—Walk." The slave walked.
“What hips! what a firm and graceful step! She is a virgin too. Open thy haick and thy shift." The slave did as she was commanded.
“Press her breasts; she has no more milk than a new-born lamb. Don't weep, slave, or the chaous shall dry thyt ears with his stick." The girl wiped her eyes.
“Eighty boutjous."
“Sixty. She is not strong; she will not be able to carry the dung out of the stable."
“In two years she will carry the dung of all the horses belonging to thy tent. Eighty boutjous."
“Seventy."
“Her hands are delicate; she has never worked. Eighty boutjous. Yea or nay? the Sultan waits for me."
The Garraba paid them and bade his slave follow him; the poor girl left the tent, fixing on me her eyes bathed in tears. I saw the Garraba stop at the Sultan's tent to receive the price of the Frenchman's head, and in a few minutes they left the camp, and I lost sight of the poor black girl.
+ + +
On the morning of the l0th of September Abd-el-Kader started, with all his forces and the solitary cannon, to attack the Flitas and Houledscherifs, leaving one man to each tent to guard the camp. The insurgent tribes, who were prepared for an attack, had already sent their women, children and cattle, up into the mountains, and the Sultan found them drawn up in order of battle on the high mountain which skirts the plain of Milianah, at the marabout nearest to the Ouet Mina and the Schellif. The fight lasted the whole day, and the cannon was fired seven or eight times, loaded with stones in default of balls. In the evening Abd-el-Kader returned to the camp, bringing back twelve dead and eight wounded. I never could obtain any precise account of the result of the battle, but the dejection of the Sultan and his troops plainly showed that they had not been victorious. The horsemen brought back five heads, and drove before them a troop of women and children who had not been able to reach the mountains: the unfortunate creatures were all thrown into the prisons of Mascara. One man had been taken alive: he was brought before the Sultan as soon as the latter had dismounted.
“Thou wert taken among the rebels?”
"I was."
“What hast thou to say in thy defence?"
“I was compelled to fight against thee."
“Thou shouldst then have fled to my camp."
“But"—
“Enough."
Abd-el-Kader raised his hand, and the unhappy man was dragged away by the chaous. One of the chaous had lost his son in the battle, and had seen his head hanging to the saddle-bow of a Beni-Flita; with tears and lamentations he now implored the other chaous to grant him the favor of putting the prisoner to death with his own unaided hand. He at last obtained it, and immediately rushed upon the Beni-Flita, and cut off his hands and feet with his yataghan. The children shouted for joy at this horrid sight, and the revengeful father watched with delight the hideous contortions of the victim who rolled in the dust at his feet, shrieking with rage and pain, and imploring his tormentor to cut off his head. When the Beni-Flita at length fainted from loss of blood, the chaous passed a rope round his middle, and dragged him by it outside the enclosure of the camp; the children brought together a quantity of brushwood and dry branches, and set fire to them, and on this pile the chaous threw the still living Beni-Flita.
It was night, and the flames threw a lurid glare upon the dark tents: the piercing shrieks of the Beni-Flita long sounded through the camp. I covered my head with my haick, and groaned when I thought that only a few leagues from this savage camp were the outposts of a noble and generous nation.
Within a few days of my arrival at Abd-el-Kader's camp, I was covered with the lice with which the Arabs are infested. The Sultan himself in the midst of the most serious discussion picks them off his haick, rolls them gravely between his finger and thumb, and throws them upon the carpet. These vermin are of a monstrous size, white with a black stripe along the back, which swells with the blood they suck from their unhappy victims. Fortunately for us, they did not much frequent our hair and beards, but they laid their eggs in the seams of our clothes, and were hatched upon us in myriads. The Arabs are so used to them that they treated us with the greatest scorn when they saw our efforts to rid ourselves of these tormentors. One day we asked Abd-el-Kader to allow us to bathe in the Ouet Mina, in order to wash off the vermin and the dust with which our bodies were covered. The Sultan granted our request, and sent one of his negroes to protect us against the Arabs. I cannot describe the pleasure of stretching our weary and heated limbs in the clear cool water; but in two days the dust and the lice were as bad as ever. We slept on the bare ground, and as the nights were intensely cold we crept close to each other, but as soon as the blood began to circulate at all in our benumbed bodies, the lice resumed their attacks, and we again sought the cold to escape from their intolerable pricking.
+ + +
I will not attempt to describe the reception I met with from my brother officers, nor my subsequent illness, nor how delightful it was to be nursed by my countrymen. Francesco, Madame Laurent, the German, and Crescenso were sent to the hospital at Algiers, where they lay ill for some time. The other prisoners were soon released, except the wife and daughter of M. Lanternies and the two German women, who are still in the possession of the Emperor of Morocco. I obtained Mardulin's pardon, and contrived to communicate it to him: he escaped from Mascara with some orange merchants of Blidah, and is now enrolled among the Spahis.
As I was on the point of embarking for France I heard myself greeted on the quay, and on turning round I saw Benedicto dressed in a new suit of clothes. “Where are you going, Benedicto?” said I. "To my mother Maria, who has sent me these fine clothes; I am going on board with Francesco and Crescenso, to sail to Genoa, where she is waiting for me."
On arriving at Marseilles, I hastened to visit the Arab prisoners, with the full intention of repaying them some of the cruelty I had endured from their countrymen. I however confined my revenge to inviting two of them to dinner: one, who was a marabout, would not eat, because of the Rhamadan; but the other ate and drank wine and brandy like any Christian. He pressed me to return to his country, where he promised to give me quantities of horses and sheep, to receive me into his tent as his guest, and to watch over me while I slept. After dinner I took him to the theatre, and ended by conducting him to his barracks and helping him to bed, for he had transgressed the law of the Prophet, and was drunk.

EASTER CUSTOMS IN OLD ENGLAND

2011-04-02T01:18:00.000-07:00

Extracts from: The Holidays: Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide: their social festivities, customs, and carols, by NATHAN B. WARREN, ILLUSTRATED BY F. O. C. DARLEY. PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON NEW YORK in 1868. Pages 99-109

CHAPTER X
EASTER.

The term Easter is derived, as some suppose, from the Saxon "Oster," to rise; this being the day of Christ's rising from the dead. Others, however, maintain that this Queen of Christian festivals, takes its name from Eoster, or Easter, a Saxon goddess whose religious rites were celebrated in the beginning of Spring. Soane suggests that the Saxon Easter or Eoster, the Greek Áστήþ, the English Star, and the Hebrew Ashtaroth, have all come from the same long-forgotten original, perhaps Phoenician, word signifying "Fire."

It was anciently the custom in England to put out all the fires and relight them on EasterEven, from consecrated flints preserved in churches specially for that purpose. The popular belief was that holy fire, obtained in this manner, would prevent the effect of storms, etc. Fosbrooke, quoting Rupert, says, "The flint signified Christ, and the fire the Holy Ghost."

The custom of putting out the fire in the hall also at this season, appears to have been connected with this ecclesiastical observance. The "Festival" (1511), referring to this domestic usage, says: —

"This day (Easter) is called, in many places, Goddes Sondaye; ye know well that it is the maner at this daye to do the fyre out of thp hall, and the black Wynter brandes, and all thynges that is foule with fume and smoke shall be done awaye, and there the fyre was, shall be gayly arayed with fayre flowres, and strewed with grene rysshes all aboute."

Dr. Drake in his work, "Shakespeare and his Times," says that, "Easter was formerly a season of great social festivities;" and also that, "it was customary for the common people — even as they do still in Ireland — to rise early on Easter morning to see the sun dance." Metaphorically considered, that thought may be termed both just and beautiful; for as "the earth and her valleys standing thick with corn" are said to "laugh and sing," so, on account of the glory of the Resurrection, the sun may be said to "dance" for joy — the natural rising of the sun being, as it were, typical of the rising of the Sun of Righteousness from the darkness of the grave. The earth also, awaking at this season from its death-like wintry slumber, seems to make an appropriate response to this celestial demonstration of joy by its own most beautiful Easter offering of Spring flowers.

This idea has been happily expressed by Paulinus, Bishop of Nola (431): —

"Sing praises to your God, ye youths, and pay your holy vows.
The floor with many flowers strew, the threshold bind with boughs;
Let Winter breathe a fragrance forth, like as the purple Spring;
Let the young year, before the time, its floral treasures bring,
And Nature yield, to this Great Day, herself an offering."

The use of these flowers at the Easter festival has of late gradually become more and more popular. Our forefathers, in addition to this pious use of flowers, had besides, even in their holiday recreations, an allusion to this fundamental doctrine of Christianity.

Some of the sports and pastimes referred to appear to us childish and absurd, but in other times, before the world had become so very wise as at present, they may have been, to simple-minded people, very edifying. One of the most curious of these popular observances is that of "lifting" or "heaving," as it was called, a custom which still lingers in some counties in England. The ceremony has been thus described: —

"On Easter-Monday the men lift the women; and on Easter-Tuesday the women lift, or heave, the men. The process is performed by two lusty men, or women, joining their hands across each other's wrists; then, making the person to be heaved, sit down on their arms, they lift him up aloft three times, and often carry him several yards along a street. At the end of the ceremony the person lifted is duly kissed by the lifters, and a forfeit claimed. Sometimes, instead of crossed hands, a chair or bed is used."

The custom is supposed to be a vulgar representation of the Resurrection. Perhaps also the Lesson for Easter Even might have suggested this singular species of merriment, for there we find that, "Corn shall make the young men cheerful, and new wine the maids." Indeed the Church services seem often to have suggested to the people similar jocular ideas. Mr. Ellis inserts in his edition of Brand's "Popular Antiquities," a letter from Mr. Thomas Loggan, of Basinghall Street, London, in which he says: —

"I was sitting alone last Easter-Tuesday at breakfast, at the Talbot Inn, Shrewsbury, when I was surprised by the entrance of all the female servants of the house handing in an arm-chair, lined with white, and decorated with ribbons and favors of different colors. I asked them what they wanted: their answer was, they came to heave me; it was the custom of the place on that morning, and they hoped I would take a seat in their chair. It was impossible not to comply with a request very modestly made, and by a set of nymphs in their best apparel, and several of them under twenty. I wished to see all the ceremony, and seated myself accordingly. The group then lifted me from the ground, turned the chair about, and I had the felicity of a salute from each. I told them I supposed there was a fee on the occasion, and was answered in the affirmative, and having satisfied the damsels in this respect, they withdrew to heave others. At this time I had never heard of such a custom; but on inquiry I found that on Easter-Monday, between nine and twelve, the men heave the women, in the same manner as on the Tuesday, between the same hours, the women heave the men."

This custom, it appears, is of undoubted antiquity, for we find from a roll in the custody of the Keeper of the Records in the Tower of London, that certain ladies and maids of honor received payment for taking King Edward I. in his bed at Easter: —

"To the ladies of the Queen's chamber 15th of May; seven ladies and damsels of the Queen, because they took (or lifted) the King in his bed, on the morrow of Easter, and made him pay fine for the peace of the King, which he made of his gift by the hand of Hugh de Cerr (or Kerr), Esq., to the Lady of Weston, £14."

Perhaps the nursery pastime of "making a chair," still in vogue among children, is a relic of this ancient custom.

The game of hand-ball, however, another of the Easter sports, appears to have had a very different fortune, and to have developed itself into those most manly of athletic sports, the modern base-ball and cricket.

In ancient times, say the Ritualists Belethus and Durandus —

"The bishops and archbishops on the Continent used to recreate themselves in the game of hand-ball with their inferior clergy; and in England, also, the game appears to have been made a part of the regular Church service at Chester. Bishops and deans took the ball into the Cathedral, and at the commencement of the antiphon, began to dance, throwing the ball to the choristers, who handed it to each other during the time of the dancing and antiphon."*

Nor was it uncommon in England for corporate bodies to amuse themselves at this game, with their burgesses and young people. Such was once the custom, says Mr. Brand, at Newcastle, at the Feasts of Easter and Whitsuntide, when the mayor, aldermen, and sheriff, accompanied by great numbers of the burgesses, used to go yearly at these seasons to the Forth or little mall of the town, with mace, sword, and cap of maintenance carried before them, and not only countenance, but frequently join in, the' diversions of hand-ball, dancing, etc. There was also in the ancient city of Chester a similar Custom, when at the great Festival of Easter, "The mayor and corporation, with the twenty guilds established in Chester, with their wardens at their heads, set forth in all their pageantry to the Rood-eye (an open meadow by the river side), to play at foot-ball. The mayor with his mace, sword, and cap of maintenance, stood before the Cross, whilst the guild of shoemakers, to whom the right had belonged from time immemorial, presented him with the ball of the value of 'three and four-pence or above,' and all set to work right merrily." But as too often falls out in this game, "great strife did arise among the younge persons of the same cittie," and hence, in the time of Henry VIII., this piece of homage to the mayor was converted into a present from the shoe-makers to the drapers, of six gleaves or hand-darts of silver, to be given for the best foot-race; whilst the saddlers, who went in procession on horseback, attired in all their bravery, each carrying a spear with a wooden ball, decorated with flowers and arms, exchanged their offering for a silver bell, which should be a "'reward for that horse which with speedy runninge should run before all others." These silver bells were in the seventeenth century converted into cups, or other pieces of plate, which still continue to be the "trophies of victory" at horse-races.

But the ordinary prize at games of ball during Easter, was the Tansy-cake: —

"At stool-ball, Lucia, let us play
For sugar cakes and wine;
Or for a tansy let us play.
The loss be thine or mine.

"If thou, my dear, a winner be,
At trundling of the ball,
The wager thou shalt have and me,
And my misfortunes all."

These cakes were made of flour, butter, sugar, sherry, cream, and tansies; whence they derived the name of "tansays," or "tansy-cakes." The tansy having reference, says Selden, to the bitter herbs used by the Jews at the Passover, though at the same time, "'twas always the fashion, for a man to have a gammon of bacon to show himself to be no Jew." The Jews themselves, however, says Brady, in his "Clavis Calendaria," "long since contrived to diminish the bitter flavor of the tansy, by making it into a pickle for their Paschal Lamb, from whence we borrowed the custom of taking mint and sugar as a general sauce for that description of food."

Another custom which prevailed, in the olden time, and which is still kept up both in England and Ireland, and even in this country, is that of presenting children with eggs, stained with various colors in boiling, and curiously ornamented with devices and mottoes; they are termed "paste," or more properly "Pasche Eggs." In the Greek Church likewise, says Brady, "Eggs still continue to form a part of the ceremonies of the day; and there also, presents of eggs, from one individual to another, are considered as pious attentions." This observance appears to have arisen from a belief that eggs were an emblem of the Resurrection. On this custom Mr. Brand has well observed that —

"The ancient Egyptians, if the resurrection of the body had been a tenet of their faith, would perhaps have thought an egg no improper hieroglyphical representation of it. The exclusion of a living creature by incubation, after the vital principle has lain so long dormant or extinct, is a process so truly marvelous, that if it could be disbelieved, would be thought by some a thing as incredible, as that the Author of Life should be able to reanimate the dead."

In the "Ritual" of Pope Paul V., which was composed for the use of the British Isles, there is this prayer for the consecration of eggs: —

"Bless, O Lord, we beseech thee, this thy creature of eggs, that it may become a wholesome sustenance to thy faithful servants, eating it in thankfulness to thee, on account of the Resurrection of our Lord."

In Lancashire and Cheshire, children still go round the village and beg eggs for the Easter dinner, accompanying their solicitation by a short song, the burden of which is addressed to the farmer's dame, asking for "an egg, bacon, cheese, or an apple, or any good thing that will make us merry; " and ending with, "And I pray you good dame an Easter egg."

The observance in Lancashire of "Pace-egging," as it is there called, is a custom limited to the week preceding Easter Day, commencing on the Monday and finishing on the Thursday before Easter Day.

"Young men in groups, varying in number from three to twenty, dressed in various fantastic garbs, and wearing masks, some of the groups accompanied by a player or two on the violin, go from house to house singing, dancing, and capering. At most places they are liberally treated with wine, punch, or ale, dealt out to them by the host or hostess."

The origin of this custom of collecting "Pasche eggs," may have been the resumption on the part of our forefathers of eggs and of animal food at Easter, on the termination of Lent. It seems, moreover, that at this season extreme caution was to be used in partaking of food of all kinds, and nothing was to be eaten which had not been previously blessed, or had not at least the sign of the Cross made over it; for the faithful were thought just then to be particularly subject to the attacks of evil spirits. Durandus gives a lamentable instance of the fatal consequences arising from a neglect of this precaution, and of which he was himself an eye-witness: "Two devils got possession of a young girl, and tormented her for three years," a miracle which, says Mr. Soane, "is often renewed in our own days, but with this especial difference, that when the devil now possesses a woman, he does not torment herself but others." "However, on this occasion, a cunning exorcist drove the fiends out at last, having previously made them confess that they had been lying perdu in a melon, which the girl had incautiously eaten without first making the sign of the Cross."

There has been a revival in modern times, even in this country, of the old Easter custom of "pace-egging." We refer to the usage of presenting one's friends on the morning of Easter Day, with a basket of pace-eggs. A dozen of these, of various colors, with mottoes and emblematic devices, artistically arranged in a fancy basket, make indeed a very appropriate Easter decoration for the drawing-room table, seeming to greet us with that most ancient of Easter salutations (still retained in the Greek Church), "Christ is risen!"

* Dancing was at first, and indeed during some thousands of years, a religious ceremony. In the Temples of Jerusalem, Samaria, and Alexandria, a stage for these exercises was erected in one part, thence called the choir, the name of which has been preserved in our churches, and the custom too, it seems, till within a few centuries. The Cardinal Ximenes revived in his time the practice of Mosarabic Masses in the Cathedral of Toledo, when the people danced, both in the choir and in the nave, with great decorum and devotion.

Harriet Beecher Stowe on Thanksgiving

2010-11-24T19:12:00.000-08:00

Extracted from: Good Cheer Stories Every Child Should Know, by Various, Edited by Asa Don Dickinson Published by Doubleday, Doran & Co., Inc., for THE PARENTS' INSTITUTE, INC.
Publishers of "The Parents' Magazine" 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, 1915,

HOW WE KEPT THANKSGIVING AT OLDTOWNBy Harriet Beecher Stowe.
The old-time New England Thanksgiving has been described many times, but never better then by the author of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" in her less successful but more artistic novel, "Oldtown Folks," from which book the following narrative has been adapted.

When the apples were all gathered and the cider was all made, and the yellow pumpkins were rolled in from many a hill in billows of gold, and the corn was husked, and the labours of the season were done, and the warm, late days of Indian summer came in, dreamy and calm and still, with just frost enough to crisp the ground of a morning, but with warm trances of benignant, sunny hours at noon, there came over the community a sort of genial repose of spirit—a sense of something accomplished, and of a new golden mark made in advance on the calendar of life—and the deacon began to say to the minister, of a Sunday, "I suppose it's about time for the Thanksgiving proclamation."

Conversation at this time began to turn on high and solemn culinary mysteries and receipts of wondrous power and virtue. New modes of elaborating squash pies and quince tarts were now ofttimes carefully discussed at the evening firesides by Aunt Lois and Aunt Keziah, and notes seriously compared with the experiences of certain other aunties of high repute in such matters. I noticed that on these occasions their voices often fell into mysterious whispers, and that receipts of especial power and sanctity were communicated in tones so low as entirely to escape the vulgar ear. I still remember the solemn shake of the head with which my Aunt Lois conveyed to Miss Mehitable Rossiter the critical properties of mace, in relation to its powers of producing in corn fritters a suggestive resemblance to oysters. As ours was an oyster-getting district, and as that charming bivalve was perfectly easy to come at, the interest of such an imitation can be accounted for only by the fondness of the human mind for works of art.

For as much as a week beforehand, "we children" were employed in chopping mince for pies to a most wearisome fineness, and in pounding cinnamon, all-spice, and cloves in a great lignum-vitæ mortar; and the sound of this pounding and chopping reëchoed through all the rafters of the old house with a hearty and vigorous cheer most refreshing to our spirits.

In those days there were none of the thousand ameliorations of the labours of housekeeping which have since arisen—no ground and prepared spices and sweet herbs; everything came into our hands in the rough, and in bulk, and the reducing of it into a state for use was deemed one of the appropriate labours of childhood. Even the very salt that we used in cooking was rock salt, which we were required to wash and dry and pound and sift before it became fit for use.

At other times of the year we sometimes murmured at these labours, but those that were supposed to usher in the great Thanksgiving festival were always entered into with enthusiasm. There were signs of richness all around us—stoning of raisins, cutting of citron, slicing of candied orange peel. Yet all these were only dawnings and intimations of what was coming during the week of real preparation, after the Governor's proclamation had been read.

The glories of that proclamation! We knew beforehand the Sunday it was to be read, and walked to church with alacrity, filled with gorgeous and vague expectations.

The cheering anticipation sustained us through what seemed to us the long waste of the sermon and prayers; and when at last the auspicious moment approached—when the last quaver of the last hymn had died out—the whole house rippled with a general movement of complacency, and a satisfied smile of pleased expectation might be seen gleaming on the faces of all the young people, like a ray of sunshine through a garden of flowers.

Thanksgiving now was dawning! We children poked one another, and fairly giggled with unreproved delight as we listened to the crackle of the slowly unfolding document. That great sheet of paper impressed us as something supernatural, by reason of its mighty size and by the broad seal of the State affixed thereto; and when the minister read therefrom, "By his Excellency, the Governor of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, a Proclamation," our mirth was with difficulty repressed by admonitory glances from our sympathetic elders. Then, after a solemn enumeration of the benefits which the Commonwealth had that year received at the hands of Divine Providence, came at last the naming of the eventful day, and, at the end of all, the imposing heraldic words, "God save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts." And then, as the congregation broke up and dispersed, all went their several ways with schemes of mirth and feasting in their heads.

And now came on the week in earnest. In the very watches of the night preceding Monday morning a preternatural stir below stairs and the thunder of the pounding barrel announced that the washing was to be got out of the way before daylight, so as to give "ample scope and room enough" for the more pleasing duties of the season.

The making of pies at this period assumed vast proportions that verged upon the sublime. Pies were made by forties and fifties and hundreds, and made of everything on the earth and under the earth.

The pie is an English institution, which, planted on American soil, forthwith ran rampant and burst forth into an untold variety of genera and species. Not merely the old traditional mince pie, but a thousand strictly American seedlings from that main stock, evinced the power of American housewives to adapt old institutions to new uses. Pumpkin pies, cranberry pies, huckleberry pies, cherry pies, green-currant pies, peach, pear, and plum pies, custard pies, apple pies, Marlborough-pudding pies—pies with top crusts and pies without—pies adorned with all sorts of fanciful flutings and architectural strips laid across and around, and otherwise varied, attested the boundless fertility of the feminine mind when once let loose in a given direction.

Fancy the heat and vigour of the great pan formation, when Aunt Lois and Aunt Keziah, and my mother and grandmother, all in ecstasies of creative inspiration, ran, bustled, and hurried—mixing, rolling, tasting, consulting—alternately setting us children to work when anything could be made of us, and then chasing us all out of the kitchen when our misinformed childhood ventured to take too many liberties with sacred mysteries. Then out we would all fly at the kitchen door, like sparks from a blacksmith's window.

On these occasions, as there was a great looseness in the police department over us children, we usually found a ready refuge at Miss Mehitable's with Tina, who, confident of the strength of her position with Polly, invited us into the kitchen, and with the air of a mistress led us around to view the proceedings there.

A genius for entertaining was one of Tina's principal characteristics; and she did not fail to make free with raisins, or citrons, or whatever came to hand, in a spirit of hospitality at which Polly seriously demurred. That worthy woman occasionally felt the inconvenience of the state of subjugation to which the little elf had somehow or other reduced her, and sometimes rattled her chains fiercely, scolding with a vigour which rather alarmed us, but which Tina minded not a whit. Confident of her own powers, she would, in the very midst of her wrath, mimic her to her face with such irresistible drollery as to cause the torrent of reproof to end in a dissonant laugh, accompanied by a submissive cry for quarter.

"I declare, Tina Percival," she said to her one day, "you're saucy enough to physic a horn bug! I never did see the beater of you! If Miss Mehitable don't keep you in better order, I don't see what's to become of any of us!"

"Why, what did 'come of you before I came?" was the undismayed reply. "You know, Polly, you and Aunty both were just as lonesome as you could be till I came here, and you never had such pleasant times in your life as you've had since I've been here. You're a couple of old beauties, both of you, and know just how[92] to get along with me. But come, boys, let's take our raisins and go up into the garret and play Thanksgiving."

In the corner of the great kitchen, during all these days, the jolly old oven roared and crackled in great volcanic billows of flame, snapping and gurgling as if the old fellow entered with joyful sympathy into the frolic of the hour; and then, his great heart being once warmed up, he brooded over successive generations of pies and cakes, which went in raw and came out cooked, till butteries and dressers and shelves and pantries were literally crowded with a jostling abundance.

A great cold northern chamber, where the sun never shone, and where in winter the snow sifted in at the window cracks, and ice and frost reigned with undisputed sway, was fitted up to be the storehouse of these surplus treasures. There, frozen solid, and thus well preserved in their icy fetters, they formed a great repository for all the winter months; and the pies baked at Thanksgiving often came out fresh and good with the violets of April.

During this eventful preparation week all the female part of my grandmother's household, as I have before remarked, were at a height above any ordinary state of mind; they moved about the house rapt in a species of prophetic frenzy. It seemed to be considered a necessary feature of such festivals that everybody should be in a hurry, and everything in the house should be turned bottom upwards with enthusiasm—so at least we children understood it, and we certainly did our part to keep the ball rolling.

At this period the constitutional activity of Uncle Fliakim increased to a degree that might fairly be called preternatural. Thanksgiving time was the time for errands of mercy and beneficence through the country; and Uncle Fliakim's immortal old rubber horse and rattling wagon were on the full jump in tours of investigation into everybody's affairs in the region around. On returning, he would fly through our kitchen like the wind, leaving open the doors, upsetting whatever came in his way—now a pan of milk, and now a basin of mince—talking rapidly, and forgetting only the point in every case that gave it significance, or enabled any one to put it to any sort of use. When Aunt Lois checked his benevolent effusions by putting the test questions of practical efficiency, Uncle Fliakim always remembered that he'd "forgotten to inquire about that," and skipping through the kitchen, and springing into his old wagon, would rattle off again on a full tilt to correct and amend his investigations.

Moreover, my grandmother's kitchen at this time began to be haunted by those occasional hangers-on and retainers, of uncertain fortunes, whom a full experience of her bountiful habits led to expect something at her hand at this time of the year. All the poor, loafing tribes, Indian and half-Indian, who at other times wandered, selling baskets and other light wares, were sure to come back to Oldtown a little before Thanksgiving time, and report themselves in my grandmother's kitchen.

The great hogshead of cider in the cellar, which my grandfather called the Indian hogshead, was on tap at all hours of the day; and many a mugful did I draw and dispense to the tribes that basked in the sunshine at our door.

Aunt Lois never had a hearty conviction of the propriety of these arrangements; but my grandmother, who had a prodigious verbal memory, bore down upon her with such strings of quotations from the Old Testament that she was utterly routed.

"Now," says my Aunt Lois, "I s'pose we've got to have Betty Poganut and Sally Wonsamug, and old Obscue and his wife, and the whole tribe down, roosting around our doors till we give 'em something. That's just mother's way; she always keeps a whole generation at her heels."

"How many times must I tell you, Lois, to read your Bible?" was my grandmother's rejoinder; and loud over the sound of pounding and chopping in the kitchen could be heard the voice of her quotations: "If there be among you a poor man in any of the gates of the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not harden thy heart, nor shut thy hand, from thy poor brother. Thou shalt surely give him; and thy heart shall not be grieved when thou givest to him, because that for this thing the Lord thy God shall bless thee in all thy works; for the poor shall never cease from out of the land."

These words seemed to resound like a sort of heraldic proclamation to call around us all that softly shiftless class, who, for some reason or other, are never to be found with anything in hand at the moment that it is wanted.

"There, to be sure," said Aunt Lois, one day when our preparations were in full blast; "there comes Sam Lawson down the hill, limpsy as ever; now he'll have his doleful story to tell, and mother'll give him one of the turkeys."

And so, of course, it fell out.

Sam came in with his usual air of plaintive assurance, and seated himself a contemplative spectator in the chimney corner, regardless of the looks and signs of unwelcome on the part of Aunt Lois.

"Lordy massy, how prosperous everything does seem here!" he said in musing tones, over his inevitable mug of cider; "so different from what 'tis t' our house. There's Hepsey, she's all in a stew, an' I've just been an' got her thirty-seven cents' wuth o' nutmegs, yet she says she's sure she don't see how she's to keep Thanksgiving, an' she's down on me about it, just as ef 'twas my fault. Yeh see, last winter our old gobbler got froze. You know, Mis' Badger, that 'ere cold night we hed last winter. Wal, I was off with Jake Marshall that night; ye see, Jake, he had to take old General Dearborn's corpse into Boston, to the family vault, and Jake, he kind o' hated to go alone; 'twas a drefful cold time, and he ses to me,' Sam, you jes' go 'long with me'; so I was sort o' sorry for him, and I kind o' thought I'd go 'long. Wal, come 'long to Josh Bissel's tahvern, there at the Halfway House, you know, 'twas so swingeing cold we stopped to take a little suthin' warmin', an' we sort o' sot an' sot over the fire, till, fust we knew, we kind o' got asleep; an' when we woke up we found we'd left the old General hitched up t' th' post pretty much all night. Wal, didn't hurt him none, poor man; 'twas allers a favourite spot o' his'n. But, takin' one thing with another, I didn't get home till about noon next day, an' I tell you, Hepsey she was right down on me. She said the baby was sick, and there hadn't been no wood split, nor the barn fastened up, nor nuthin'. Lordy massy, I didn't mean no harm; I thought there was wood enough, and I thought likely Hepsey'd git out an' fasten up the barn. But Hepsey, she was in one o' her contrary streaks, an' she wouldn't do a thing; an' when I went out to look, why, sure 'nuff, there was our old tom-turkey froze as stiff as a stake—his claws jist a stickin' right straight up like this." Here Sam struck an expressive attitude, and looked so much like a frozen turkey as to give a pathetic reality to the picture.

"Well, now, Sam, why need you be off on things that's none of your business?" said my grandmother. "I've talked to you plainly about that a great many times, Sam," she continued, in tones of severe admonition. "Hepsey is a hard-working woman, but she can't be expected to see to everything, and you oughter[97] 'ave been at home that night to fasten up your own barn and look after your own creeturs."

Sam took the rebuke all the more meekly as he perceived the stiff black legs of a turkey poking out from under my grandmother's apron while she was delivering it. To be exhorted and told of his shortcomings, and then furnished with a turkey at Thanksgiving, was a yearly part of his family program. In time he departed, not only with the turkey, but with us boys in procession after him, bearing a mince and a pumpkin pie for Hepsey's children.

"Poor things!" my grandmother remarked; "they ought to have something good to eat Thanksgiving Day; 'tain't their fault that they've got a shiftless father."

Sam, in his turn, moralized to us children, as we walked beside him: "A body'd think that Hepsey'd learn to trust in Providence," he said, "but she don't. She allers has a Thanksgiving dinner pervided; but that 'ere woman ain't grateful for it, by no manner o' means. Now she'll be jest as cross as she can be, 'cause this 'ere ain't our turkey, and these 'ere ain't our pies. Folks doos lose so much that hes sech dispositions."

A multitude of similar dispensations during the course of the week materially reduced the great pile of chickens and turkeys which black Cæsar's efforts in slaughtering, picking, and dressing kept daily supplied....

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Great as the preparations were for the dinner, everything was so contrived that not a soul in the house should be kept from the morning service of Thanksgiving in the church, and from listening to the Thanksgiving sermon, in which the minister was expected to express his views freely concerning the politics of the country and the state of things in society generally, in a somewhat more secular vein of thought than was deemed exactly appropriate to the Lord's day. But it is to be confessed that, when the good man got carried away by the enthusiasm of his subject to extend these exercises beyond a certain length, anxious glances, exchanged between good wives, sometimes indicated a weakness of the flesh, having a tender reference to the turkeys and chickens and chicken pies which might possibly be overdoing in the ovens at home. But your old brick oven was a true Puritan institution, and backed up the devotional habits of good housewives by the capital care which he took of whatever was committed to his capacious bosom. A truly well-bred oven would have been ashamed of himself all his days and blushed redder than his own fires, if a God-fearing house matron, away at the temple of the Lord, should come home and find her pie crust either burned or underdone by his over or under zeal; so the old fellow generally managed to bring things out exactly right.

When sermons and prayers were all over, we children rushed home to see the great feast of the year spread.

What chitterings and chatterings there were all over the house, as all the aunties and uncles and cousins came pouring in, taking off their things, looking at one[99] another's bonnets and dresses, and mingling their comments on the morning sermon with various opinions on the new millinery outfits, and with bits of home news and kindly neighbourhood gossip.

Uncle Bill, whom the Cambridge college authorities released, as they did all the other youngsters of the land, for Thanksgiving Day, made a breezy stir among them all, especially with the young cousins of the feminine gender.

The best room on this occasion was thrown wide open, and its habitual coldness had been warmed by the burning down of a great stack of hickory logs, which had been heaped up unsparingly since morning. It takes some hours to get a room warm where a family never sits, and which therefore has not in its walls one particle of the genial vitality which comes from the indwelling of human beings. But on Thanksgiving Day, at least, every year this marvel was effected in our best room.

Although all servile labour and vain recreation on this day were by law forbidden, according to the terms of the proclamation, it was not held to be a violation of the precept that all the nice old aunties should bring their knitting work and sit gently trotting their needles around the fire; nor that Uncle Bill should start a full-fledged romp among the girls and children, while the dinner was being set on the long table in the neighbouring kitchen. Certain of the good elderly female relatives, of serious and discreet demeanour, assisted at this operation.

But who shall do justice to the dinner, and describe the turkey, and chickens, and chicken pies, with all that endless variety of vegetables which the American soil and climate have contributed to the table, and which, without regard to the French doctrine of courses, were all piled together in jovial abundance upon the smoking board? There was much carving and laughing and talking and eating, and all showed that cheerful ability to despatch the provisions which was the ruling spirit of the hour. After the meat came the plum puddings, and then the endless array of pies, till human nature was actually bewildered and overpowered by the tempting variety; and even we children turned from the profusion offered to us, and wondered what was the matter that we could eat no more.

When all was over, my grandfather rose at the head of the table, and a fine venerable picture he made as he stood there, his silver hair flowing in curls down each side of his clear, calm face, while, in conformity to the old Puritan custom, he called their attention to a recital of the mercies of God in His dealings with their family.

It was a sort of family history, going over and touching upon the various events which had happened. He spoke of my father's death, and gave a tribute to his memory; and closed all with the application of a time-honoured text, expressing the hope that as years passed by we might "so number our days as to apply our hearts unto wisdom"; and then he gave out that psalm which in those days might be called the national hymn of the Puritans.

"Let children hear the mighty deeds
Which God performed of old,
Which in our younger years we saw,
And which our fathers told.
"He bids us make his glories known,
His works of power and grace.
And we'll convey his wonders down
Through every rising race.
"Our lips shall tell them to our sons,
And they again to theirs;
That generations yet unborn
May teach them to their heirs.
"Thus shall they learn in God alone
Their hope securely stands;
That they may ne'er forget his works,
But practise his commands."

This we all united in singing to the venerable tune of St. Martin's, an air which, the reader will perceive, by its multiplicity of quavers and inflections gave the greatest possible scope to the cracked and trembling voices of the ancients, who united in it with even more zeal than the younger part of the community.

Uncle Fliakim Sheril, furbished up in a new crisp black suit, and with his spindleshanks trimly incased in the smoothest of black silk stockings, looking for all the world just like an alert and spirited black cricket, outdid himself on this occasion in singing counter, in that high, weird voice that he must have learned from the wintry winds that usually piped around the corners of the old house. But any one who looked at him, as he sat with his eyes closed, beating time with head and hand, and, in short, with every limb of his body, must have perceived the exquisite satisfaction which he derived from this mode of expressing himself. I much regret to be obliged to state that my graceless Uncle Bill, taking advantage of the fact that the eyes of all his elders were devotionally closed, stationing himself a little in the rear of my Uncle Fliakim, performed an exact imitation of his counter with such a killing facility that all the younger part of the audience were nearly dead with suppressed laughter. Aunt Lois, who never shut her eyes a moment on any occasion, discerned this from a distant part of the room, and in vain endeavoured to stop it by vigorously shaking her head at the offender. She might as well have shaken it at a bobolink tilting on a clover top. In fact, Uncle Bill was Aunt Lois's weak point, and the corners of her own mouth were observed to twitch in such a suspicious manner that the whole moral force of her admonition was destroyed.

And now, the dinner being cleared away, we youngsters, already excited to a tumult of laughter, tumbled into the best room, under the supervision of Uncle Bill, to relieve ourselves with a game of "blindman's bluff," while the elderly women washed up the dishes and got the house in order, and the men folks went out to the barn to look at the cattle, and walked over the farm and talked of the crops.

In the evening the house was all open and lighted with the best of tallow candles, which Aunt Lois herself had made with especial care for this illumination. It was understood that we were to have a dance, and black Cæsar, full of turkey and pumpkin pie, and giggling in the very jollity of his heart, had that afternoon rosined his bow, and tuned his fiddle, and practised jigs and Virginia reels, in a way that made us children think him a perfect Orpheus....

You may imagine the astounding wassail among the young people.... My Uncle Bill related the story of "the Wry-mouth Family," with such twists and contortions and killing extremes of the ludicrous as perfectly overcame even the minister; and he was to be seen, at one period of the evening, with a face purple with laughter and the tears actually rolling down over his well-formed cheeks, while some of the more excitable young people almost fell in trances and rolled on the floor in the extreme of their merriment. In fact, the assemblage was becoming so tumultuous, that the scrape of Cæsar's violin and the forming of sets for a dance seemed necessary to restore the peace....

Uncle Bill would insist on leading out Aunt Lois, and the bright colour rising to her thin cheeks brought back a fluttering image of what might have been beauty in some fresh, early day. Ellery Davenport insisted upon leading forth Miss Deborah Kittery, notwithstanding her oft-repeated refusals and earnest protestations to the contrary. As to Uncle Fliakim, he jumped and frisked and gyrated among the single sisters and maiden aunts, whirling them into the dance as if he had been the little black gentleman himself. With that true spirit of Christian charity which marked all his actions, he invariably chose out the homeliest and most neglected, and thus worthy Aunt Keziah, dear old soul, was for a time made quite prominent by his attentions....

Grandmother's face was radiant with satisfaction, as the wave of joyousness crept up higher and higher round her, till the elders, who stood keeping time with their heads and feet, began to tell one another how they had danced with their sweethearts in good old days gone by, and the elder women began to blush and bridle, and boast of steps that they could take in their youth, till the music finally subdued them, and into the dance they went.

"Well, well!" quoth my grandmother; "they're all at it so hearty I don't see why I shouldn't try it myself." And into the Virginia reel she went, amid screams of laughter from all the younger members of the company.
But I assure you my grandmother was not a woman to be laughed at; for whatever she once set on foot she "put through" with a sturdy energy befitting a daughter of the Puritans.

"Why shouldn't I dance?" she said, when she arrived red and resplendent at the bottom of the set. "Didn't Mr. Despondency and Miss Muchafraid and Mr. Readytohalt all dance together in the 'Pilgrim's Progress?'" And the minister in his ample flowing wig, and my lady in her stiff brocade, gave to my grandmother a solemn twinkle of approbation.

As nine o'clock struck, the whole scene dissolved and melted; for what well-regulated village would think of carrying festivities beyond that hour?

And so ended our Thanksgiving at Oldtown.

Adapted from "Oldtown Folks," Houghton, Mifflin Co.

Baghdad in 1830 – A Year of Flood, Plague, Starvation, and War

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Extracts from: Journal of a residence at Bagdad, during the years 1830 and 1831, by MR. ANTHONY N. GROVES, published in London in 1832

Sept. — The weather is now become decidedly cooler. A fortnight since the average height of the thermometer in the shade, during the warmest part of the day, was 117; it is now lowered to 110. During the hottest time of the year, which is now just over, the quicksilver was rarely lower than 110, or higher than 118 in the shade, except in the morning, when the general range was from 87 to 93.

Oct. 21. — There has just been acting here a scene of duplicity, falsehood, and bloodshed, which appears strange to us, but is not uncommon in this land of misrule and cruelty. A Capidji (or Ambassador) from the Porte to the Pasha has been long expected, and with evident anxiety by him and those immediately about him, which was increased to the highest pitch, when by a messenger from Aleppo, the Pasha received the intelligence, that this man's intention was to supersede him, and of course to destroy him. It then became the object of the Pasha to endeavour to get him into his hands, which was the more difficult, as it is usual for the Capidji to read publicly his firman, and proclaim the successor at Mousul, or some place near, who, collecting the Arabs, marches to lay siege to this place, till the head of the Pasha is delivered to him. To prevent this, therefore, the Pasha made the Imrahor, or Master of the Horse, who has the whole arrangement of the military force, to write a letter to the Capidji, begging him to come here at once, and that he would, without a struggle, give the head of Dauoud Pasha into his hand, whereas if he remained at Mousul, there must be an open contention about it.

By this he was allured to approach the city, and the Pasha sent out 700 or 800 men under pretence of showing him honour, to meet him and secure him in case any accounts of the true state of the case should reach him, that he might have no possibility of flight. Thus he was brought into the city, and his quarters appointed in the house of the Musruff; when, after the Pasha had obtained from him the declaration of his object, a Divan was called, and it was determined to put him to death. This event has thrown the city into great consternation, and every one who can, is buying corn in expectation of what is to follow. For the tragedy will not end here, as a friend of the Capidji is left behind at Mousul, and another Capidji is at Diarbekr, waiting the result of this negociation. So it appears that the Sultan is determined to act at once and decidedly against this Pasha. We are now, therefore to expect a siege, and a state of anxiety and fear in this city for some months; but the Lord, who sitteth in the heavens, is ordering all for his own glory, and for our safety, and he will provide for us.

Feb. 19. — To-day we have heard that the above report of the plague being at Sulemania is false; that it has been there, but has now left it; so we know not what to believe.

March 28. — The plague has now absolutely, we believe, entered this unhappy city. Major T. and all those connected with the residency are preparing to leave for the mountains of Kourdistan; they have most kindly invited us to go with them and form part of their family; this is most truly kind, and there are many things to recommend it — the opportunities it would afford M. for learning Armenian, and me Arabic, and for observation on the country and people, besides our being delivered from all apparent danger either from the sword which threatens us from without, or the pestilence within. The absence of all these friends and so many of the principal Christian families who are going with them, leave us exposed to the bigotry of the people in any tumults that may arise — all these things presented themselves to our minds. But there are considerations that outweigh these in our minds: in the first place, we feel that while we have the Lord's work in our hands we ought not to fly and leave it; again, if we go, it is likely that for many months we cannot return to our work, whereas the plague may cease in a month; opportunities of usefulness may arise in the plague that a more unembarrassed time may not present; and our dear friends from Aleppo may come and find no asylum. The Lord gives great peace and quietness of mind in resting under his most gracious and loving care, and as the great object of our lives is to illustrate his love to us, we believe that in the midst of these awful circumstances, he will fill our tongues with praise as he does fill our hearts with peace.

March 29. — Yesterday Dr. Beagrie and Mr. Montefiore went and saw several patients they thought afflicted with the plague; but their minds were not perfectly made up. To-day, there is no longer any doubt. I accompanied Mr. Montefiore, in his visits, and now there are about twenty, and the number is increasing. Thus, then, this long expected scourge has visited this city, and our Father only knows when the awful visitation may cease. We can only cast ourselves on his holy and loving hands for safety or peace: into these hands we do cast ourselves, with all that is dearest to us in this world. We have proved our Jesus to be the Captain and Author of our hopes, and always found that in the power of his name we have obtained the victory. Nothing but the Lord's loving pity can prevent the most awful extension of the disease; not only are the people crowded together, two or three dying in one room, but the intercourse is perfectly unrestricted in all parts of the city, so that I fear what is now confined to one quarter, and might possibly, by a vigilant government be kept there, is spreading in all directions. We have, therefore, been forced to the most painful step of breaking up our school, for it would have been quite impossible to collect together eighty children from different parts of the city, without exposing all to danger. May the Lord enable us profitably to avail ourselves of our retirement, to cultivate a more extended communion with him who is our life. Dear M. is much staid on her God, and feels that as he has been, so he will be to us a hiding place in every storm.

April 1. — The plague is still increasing, but apparently not rapidly. We wait the Lord's pleasure in our own house. The only inconvenience is want of water, which cannot be had from without; and they say that when the plague becomes intense all the water carriers cease to ply; but the Lord hath said, in the time of famine ye shall be satisfied; on this promise we rest in peace.

The deaths at present from the plague are confined to the Mohammedans and the Jews. To avoid it, many of the Jews have gone to Bussorah, and the Kourds who brought it here have fled from the city; a large caravan of Christians are now thinking of returning to Mosul, who were driven from Mosul three or four years ago by plague and its attendant famine.

The poor Jews have been robbed of every thing by the Arabs, and sent naked back, and there seems little better prospect for those who are going to Mosul: they have the Arabs on one side the road, and the Kourds on the other.

April 4. — We were last night alarmed by the voices of apparently thousands of persons on the other side of the river; by degrees the discharges of guns were mingled with the cries, which gradually extended also to this side the river. We concluded it must be from a tribe of Arabs having broken into the city, the noise being exactly similar, onlv much more violent, to that of the two tribes of Arabs who were contending the other day. But after an hour's suspense, we heard it was a concourse of Arabs to supplicate from God the removal of the plague from them.

The deaths from the plague do not seem to increase with any rapidity, these two or three days; 150 perhaps is the highest any day. On a preceeding occasion, about 60 years ago, it amounted to near 2000 a day. There is with us the father of our schoolmaster, who had the plague at that time, and says you might have walked from one gate of the city to the other, and hardly have met a person or heard a sound. We trust it may be the Lord's gracious purpose to take off the heaviness of his judgment, and spare yet a little longer this sinful city.

April 9. — Stillness still prevails over the city, like the calm which precedes a convulsion; our neighbours are preparing for defence, by getting armed men into their houses, but we sit down under the shadow of the Almighty's wings, fully assured that in his name we shall boast ourselves. The Pasha, however, has not gone out as he intended yesterday.

We have just heard that the reports of the plague has stopped for a little the approach of the enemies of the Pasha, still every thing is exceedingly unsettled. He is going to shut himself up in the citadel till the answer comes from Constantinople to his overtures, but all those about him are against him, and wishing for the arrival of his enemies. About fifty went out the other day, and seized on Hillah, but they were driven out.

April 10. — The accounts brought us of the numbers of those who have died of the plague, on this side of the river alone, in little more than one fortnight, all agree in making it about 7000. The poor inhabitants know not what to do: if they remain in the city, they die of the plague; if they leave it, they fall into the hands of the Arabs, who strip them, or they are exposed to the effects of an inundation of the river Tigris, which has now overflown the whole country around Bagdad, and destroyed, they say, 2000 houses on the other side of the river, but I think this must be exaggerated; the misery of this place, however, is now beyond expression, and may yet be expected to be much greater. Dreadful as the outward circumstances of this people are, their moral condition is infinitely worse; nor does there seem to be a ray of light amidst it all. The Mohammedans look on those who die of the plague as martyrs, and when they die there is no wailing made for them; so that amidst all these desolations there is a stillness, that when one knows the cause is very frightful. The Lord enables us to feel the blessedness of the 91st Psalm, at least of the portion of those to whom that Psalm pertains; and we have, amidst all these very trying circumstances, a peace that passeth understanding. We feel indeed that we owe it to our Lord's love to be careful for nothing, neither to run or make haste as others, but to stand still and see the salvation of our God.

April 12. — I have just taken leave of the kind T.'s. The accounts of the dead are truly terrific; they say the day before yesterday 1200 died, and yesterday Major T.'s man of business obtained a receipt to the amount of 1040 on this side of the river. If this statement can be relied on, the mortality, within and without the city, must be truly appalling, and should it not please the Lord soon to stay the destroying Angel's hand, the whole country must become one wide waste.

April 13. — The plague has just entered our neighbour's dwelling, where they have collected together nearly thirty persons, not simply their own family. It seems as if a spirit of infatuation had seized them, for instead of making their number as small as possible, they seem to congregate as many together as they can.

April 14. — This is a day of awful visitation. The accounts of deaths yesterday vary from between 1000 and 1500; and to-day, they say, is worse than any, and the increase in the numbers of deaths is exclusive of the immense multitudes who are dying without the city. One of our schoolmasters is gone to Damascus, and has taken with him his little nephew who was boarding with us, so we are indeed now quite alone. In fact, nothing prevents the entire desertion of the city, but the dangers of the way, and the poverty of the inhabitants.

April 15. — The accounts of the mortality yesterday still more alarming — 1800 deaths in the city. There was great danger of the bodies being left in the houses, and the inhabitants flying and leaving them unburied, but by great exertions on the part of some young men in one quarter of the town to bury the dead there, others have been stimulated in other quarters to similar exertions, and last night all were buried. Our Moolah has just been here; he says he has bought winding sheets for himself, his brother, and his mother. He says that yesterday he was in the Jew's quarter, and only met one person, and that was a woman, who, when she saw him, ran in and locked the door. Meat, for some days, or any thing else from without, we have been unable to get. Water alone we have obtained. But, to-day, even that we cannot get at any price; every waterman you stop, answers he is carrying it to wash the bodies of the dead.

April 16. — The accounts of yesterday are worse than any day, and an Armenian girl, who has been here this morning", said she saw, in a distance of about 600 yards, fifty dead bodies carrying to burial. The son of Gaspar Khan, our next neighbour, is dead. Two have been carried out from a little passage opposite our house to-day, where two more are ill. All you see passing have a little bunch of herbs, or a rose, or an onion to smell to, and yet as to real measures of precaution there has not been one step taken; not even contact avoided, and the most unrestrained intercourse goes on in every direction, so that nothing but the Lord's arm shortening it, can prevent the entire desolation of the whole province. The population of Bagdad cannot exceed 80,000, and of this number more than half have fled,^ so that the mortality of 2000 a-day is going on among considerably less than 40,000 people.
April 19. — Still heavy, heavy news. The Moolah has called to give us an account of the city. He says it now stands stationary at between 1,500 and 2,000 a-day, and has been so for a fortnight. What a mass of mortality! Among the Pasha's soldiers, he says they have lost, in some of the regiments, above 500 out of 700. — And in the towns and villages without, the report is, that it is as bad or worse than within the city.

April 20. — The plague much the same. Among the Armenians nine were buried yesterday, and seven to-day. There are not left in the city more than 400, and now there is the plague in every third or fourth house. The water also is encreasing, so that a little more will inundate the whole city on this side the river, as it has on the other, to the inexpressible additional misery of the poor people. The caravan which left for Damascus can neither advance nor return on account of the water. Yesterday four dead were carried out from the little passage opposite our house, making in all 14 dead from eight houses, and there are others now lying ill.

April 24. — The plague still raging with most destructive violence; the two servants in our next neighbour's house are both dead, and two horses left, I fear, to starve. A poor Armenian woman has just been here, to beg a little sugar for a little infant she picked up in the street this morning; and she says, another neighbour of her’s picked up two more. They have just been digging graves beside our house. Almost all the cotton is consumed, so that persons are wandering all over the city to find some, for burying their dead. Water not to be had at any price, nor a water-carrier to be seen. Oh, what heart-rending scenes sin has introduced into the world! Oh, when will the Lord come to put an end to these scenes of disorder, physical as well as moral. In one short month, not less than 30,000 souls have passed from time to eternity in this city, and yet, even now, no diminution apparently of deaths.

April 25. — To-day, three more from the same passage, making twenty-one from these houses. Such a disease I never heard of or witnessed; certainly not more than one in twenty recovers; every one attacked seems to die.

This has been a heart-rending day. The accounts from the Residency, and the falling of a wall, undermined by the water, obliged me to go out, and I found nothing but signs of death and desolation; hardly a soul in the streets, unless such as were carrying the dead, or themselves affected with plague, and at a number of doors, and in the lanes, bundles of clothes that had been taken from the dead, and put out. The Court of the Mosque was shut, having no place left for burying, and graves were digging in every direction in the roads, and in the unoccupied stables about the city. The water also has increased so much as to be within a few inches of inundating the city. Should this further calamity come on this side, as it has on the other, the height of human misery will be near its climax, for where they will then bury their dead I know not. There seems no diminution in the plague yet, that we can discern.

April 26. — For many days we have been unable to obtain any account of the number of deaths; but the Chaoosh of Major T has been with the Pasha this morning, who is in the greatest possible state of alarm, wishing to go, but not knowing how. One of his officers, whose business it is to inquire about the number of deaths daily, reported that it had reached 5,000, but yesterday was 3,000, and to-day less. Enormous as the mortality has been, I cannot but think this beyond the truth; yet it must be remembered, that the inundation kept immense masses of poor thronged together in the city, who, but for this, would have all fled in one direction or another.

April 27. — To-day all thoughts are turned from the plague to the inundation, which from the falling of a portion of the city wall on the north-west side last night, let the water in full stream into the city. The Jews' quarter is inundated, and 200 houses fell there last night: we are hourly expecting to hear, that every part of the city is overflowed. A part also of the wall of the citadel is fallen. And, in fact, such is the structure of the houses, that if the water remains near the foundations long, the city must become a mass of ruins.
This inundation has not only ruined an immense number of houses in the city, and been the cause of tens of thousands dying of the plague, but the whole harvest is destroyed. The barley, which was just ready to be reaped, is utterly gone, and every other kind of corn must likewise be ruined, so that for 30 miles all round Bagdad, not a grain of corn can be collected this year, and perhaps, if all was quiet this might be of no consequence, for from Mosul and Kourdistan it might easily come; but this will be prevented by the enemies of the Pasha who surround us. The poor are beginning to feel immense difficulty in the city, for all the shops are shut, and there is a great scarcity of wood for firing; and should the water now cause a general inundation of the whole city, the heart sickens at the contemplation of the scenes that must follow; for the houses of the poor are nothing but mud, scarcely one of which will be left standing.

April 28. — News more and more disastrous. The inundation has swept away 7,000 houses from one end of the city to the other, burying the sick, the dying, and the dead, with many of those in health, in one common grave. Those who have escaped, have brought their goods and the relics of their families, to the houses the plague has desolated, or desertion left unoccupied, and houses are yet falling in every direction.

May 1. — The Lord has brought us all in safety to the beginning of another month, through the most trying period of my life; yet the Lord has every day filled our mouth with praise, and enabled us to see his preserving hand. To-day, as I passed along the street, I saw numbers of dead bodies lying unburied, and the dogs eating with avidity the loathsome food. Oh! it made my very heart sink. The numbers of the dead can now be no longer ascertained, for most of the bodies are buried either in the houses or in the roads; yet amidst all this, the Lord suffers not the destroying angel to enter our dwelling; but we feel the Lord has commanded the man with the ink-horn to write us down to be spared, as this is one of the vials of God's wrath on his enemies.

May 8. — The Lord has this day manifested that the attack of my dear dear wife, is the plague, and of a very dangerous and malignant kind, so that our hearts are prostrate in the Lord's hand. As I think the infection can have only come through me, I have little hope of escaping, unless by the Lord's special intervention.

May 13. — My dearest wife has reached the light of another day, still quietly sinking without a sigh and without a groan. This my prayer for her in the night of my darkness the Lord has mercifully heard.

May 14. — This day dearest Mary's ransomed spirit took its seat among those dressed in white, and her body was consigned to the earth that gave it birth — a dark, heavy day to poor nature, but still the Lord was the light and stay of it.

May 15, 16. — I feel to-day many symptoms similar to those with which my dearest Mary's illness commenced — pains in the head and heaviness, pains in the back, and shooting pains through the glands and the arms. At another time I should think only of them as the result of a common cold; but now I know not how to discriminate, the beginnings are so similar.

May 19. — The water to-day has again fallen considerably in price, and as far as we can judge, God has mercifully nearly extinguished this desolating plague. I now feel quite satisfied the attack I had the other day was an attack of the plague, though very slight.

June 29. — My dear little baby has had an attack of purulent ophthalmia, which gives me much anxiety; for three or four days she had been recovering a little, when this trying attack seized her dear little eyes; she was quite unable to open either of them.

July 9. — The camp of those without the city is moving down to-day towards us; and we hear a continued firing of cannon. It is reported they are come within half an hour's march of the city.

July 28. Thursday. — Up to this time the shells and balls of the besiegers have done us no harm. Two shells have passed just over us. The one fell on the roof of the house of an Arab family at a little distance from us, who were all asleep, and on bursting killed three: one cannon ball has just passed over us, besides musket balls innumerable, only two of which, however, I have felt so fear as to endanger us. The one just passed by me and struck the wall, the other, by bending my head, passed just over me: yet dangerous as it seems in such circumstances to sleep on the roof, the suffocating heat of the rooms is insupportable. Famine is making its destructive way here among the poor. All the necessaries of life are raised from four to six times their usual price, and often are not to be obtained at all, and in addition there is no labour going on in the city: every shop is closed, and every one's concern is to take care of his life or property. They are constantly killing persons in the streets, without the least inquiry being made after the perpetrators; nay, they are publicly and notoriously known.

Aug. 19. Friday. — Every thing seems darkening in this wretched city. Numbers of poor people are crying at the gates to be let out, that they may not be starved in the city; but they will not let them go. All the necessaries of life have risen to five times their usual price, and the pressure of this is increased tenfold by the time at which it has occurred. The bricklayers, carpenters, every trade has entirely ceased its occupations in the city since the commencement of the plague; so that all day-labourers, such as weavers and others, are thrown out of their employments, and without means of gaining their bread. In addition to this, the Arabs are breaking into every house where they expect to find a little corn or rice, so that it is a difficult choice either to be without provisions in danger of starving, or of being broken in upon by such ruffians, and stripped. We intend to bury a little box, containing some rice, and flour, and dates, under ground, that in the event of their breaking in, we may yet secure food for a few days, which may give us time to look about.

Aug. 24. Thursday — Three months and ten days have now passed since the Lord took from me her who was on earth the supreme consolation of my life; and now, this day, he has taken from me my sweet little baby without a sigh, without the expression of pain during the whole of her illness; for this my heart can, even at this moment, bless the Lord; but it has left a void that has more than ever made the world appear a waste.

Sept. 9. Friday. — Every thing continues still increasing in price, and in an increased ratio the sufferings of the poor: if they leave the city they are stripped and driven back; if they remain they are starved; and even the dates are just come to an end, upon which for near three weeks, both the people and the cattle have been feeding. The Pasha has this day taken the jewels of his wives to sell, from which and some other signs, I am led to think his course is nearly run, and that ere long he will follow the fate of his predecessor.

Sept. 15. Thursday. — After a night of anxious suspense, the day has dawned in comparative peace; the cry that Ali Pasha's troops were entering the city, began soon after we had retired to rest, and continued till near morning. Now we hear that Daoud Pasha had fled from the house of Saleh Beg during the night and endeavoured to enter the citadel, but the soldiers would not admit him. He is now in the hands of the people of the Meidan. The Chaoush Kiahya of Ali Pasha has entered the city, and every one is in an awful state of suspense as to the future fate of the inhabitants, at least of the higher classes. I have just set up the English flag that they may know the inhabitant of the house is a stranger here, who has nothing to do with the strife of the city.

October 9. Lord's Day. — It is just one fortnight since the Lord has laid me on the bed of sickness and suffering; for nearly a fortnight previous an attack of typhus fever had been making its steady advances. I had lost all appetite, strength, and ability to sleep, accompanied by that strange overwhelming depression of mind that inclines one to weep one knows not why. But this day fortnight I was completely laid by, and this is the first day I have had my clothes on since.

A MEMORIAL DAY ADDRESS Given in 1890.

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A speech given: MEMORIAL DAY ADDRESS AT FT. MADISON, IOWA, BY THOMAS HEDGE, MAY 30, 1890.

The story of the rise of civil and religious liberty on this continent is full of incongruities and of contradictions. The Pilgrim Fathers planted their commonwealth among the gray rocks of Massachusetts, that they might have freedom to worship God; but we remember they compelled the flight to Narragansett of the learned and sincere Roger Williams, the friend of Milton, chiefly because he held forth that the civil magistrate's power extends only to the bodies, goods and outward state of man, and thus the other commonwealth of Rhode Island and Providence plantations had its beginning.

It has been an American custom, reaching back to the days of our grandfathers, to read in public, with religious solemnity, the Declaration of Independence on the morning of the Fourth of July, and the winged words of Jefferson — "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal; endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness; that to secure these rights governments are instituted among men deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed" — we imagined, because they stirred our blood, that they set forth our profoundest faith. But it is only thirty years since no American citizen was permitted to speak in the spirit of those words below the lower rapids of yonder river, and only thirty years ago that if that American citizen should stretch forth his hand to help any man, woman or child, of a certain class, to cross that river in search of that unalienable right of liberty, he would be guilty of a crime against the government whose symbol was this flag.
(We are not ashamed to remember that there were not a few criminals of this sort in this neighborhood in those days.)
We were not in spirit a nation or a union, but a most heterogeneous aggregation of peoples, under the yoke of as many various customs, traditions, prejudices and bigotries as there were different communities. State lines were a reality, sectional feeling and mutual dread as impassable as the mountain range.

The truth spoken by him who was more than prophet, 'This country cannot remain half slave and half free,' at last became evident, and the darkness came and the labor and agony of the new birth of freedom.
It seemed as if the spirit of the Lord moved over the face of the land and breathed again into the nostrils of this people the breath of life. The eyes of their understanding were opened; it was given to them to see the invisible, to stand upon the Mount of Transfiguration and to be inspired with the presence of them of old time who had toiled, suffered and triumphed for the good of those to be. All human capacities seemed to be enlarged. All human faculties to be reinforced. All human affections quickened and purified in this fire of trial. The cause was seen to be and accepted as the cause common and vital to us all. It was the people's war. The times grew spacious. Nothing was too great or too high for the energy the constancy, the self-denial, the faith of this people in their devotion to this cause — ever old and ever new — of human liberty. As in the days of the revolution it called manhood from the tranquil pursuits and toils of peace, the delight of life, to absence from home, to cold, hunger, the prison-pen, disease, wounds, death; it called woman to poverty, to loneliness, to agony of suspense, to widowhood and bereavement of her first born.
There were days which were to her as a thousand years, when the very air quivered with the tidings of defeat or the hardly less dreadful word of victory; when she was told that while men of their abundance had cast their offerings into the treasury she had given more than them all — even all her living.
When this death angel came, although for tears she saw it not, the glory of the Lord shone 'round her dwelling-akin to that of the star of Bethlehem, for it had been vouchsafed to her to bear a son found worthy to die for the help of his fellow-men.
And the boys whom these women with christian grace had sent away, these boys whom we bear in memory at this hour, deeming it the highest privilege and pride of our earthly life that we hobnobbed with them and marched with them and were with them where they fell, they made up an army such as never had been known before. Their understanding comprehended fully the purpose of their warfare — it was not for ambition, for material conquest, for personal aggrandizement, nor to relieve themselves of personal oppression, for they had never realized the presence or approach of any tyranny. The flag to them was but the sign of the enforcement and security of those unalienable rights, which they had been trained to believe were the birthright of all men. It was such a sign, not for themselves or their's alone, not for a class, a sect, a party, a generation or a race, but for everyone made in the image of God, wherever and so long as that flag might wave.

I said that we were a heterogeneous people, marked by our provincial prejudices and bigotries. Travel broadens the view and dispels the mists of prejudice, and no sort of travel so effectually as that pursued by our young volunteer, After the boy from Iowa had trudged alongside of the boy from Vermont or Pennsylvania, or of the boy whose father was born in Ireland or Germany, and had drank from the same canteen, and shared his hard tack, had climbed the same opposing earthwork at his side, had witnessed his boyish valor "in the imminent deadly breach'' ''on the fiery edge of battle,'' and had lain down beside him in the swamp and suffered the same cold, the same homesickness, he began to realize what Paul meant by till men being of one blood; boundary lines and section corners vanished, and his love of country, as of his countrymen, came to comprehend the wide continent, bounded only by the inviolate seas.

He so bore himself that he conquered even the prejudices of his opposers, and to-day wherever his grave may be, whether by those of his kindred or in the red soil of Virginia, in the mountains of Georgia or Tennessee, or under the flowers of Carolina, it is at home, in his own country, a pledge and monument of perpetual union, and of ever growing peace and good will among its people.
As something of the duty of tradition mingles in these ceremonies, let me place in the minds of those born since the day of Appomattox a hint of the personality of the "boy in blue.'' As yon read that "the old 'Continentals' in their ragged regimentals faltered not," your fancy pictures a grizzled soldier toughened by the frosts of many winters, when in truth he and the Minute Man and the Green Mountain boy, as well as the boy in blue, were of the same age, which is yours. The soldier whose memory we are met to honor was not such as these to-day — his face lined and refined by care, with stooping shoulders and whitening hair, and halting step, and eyes grown dim; but such as these were five and twenty years ago; his face bright with hope, his gaze clear and proud with purpose, his step firm and sure, with the spring of youth. And my veteran brothers, those who were taken away from us at the front are now before the vision of our memory as when they marched out to die. Imperishable youth is theirs.
Their fame shall live so long as man loves liberty, the example of their sacrifice be an inspiration to future patriotism, their spirits the airy leaders of heroes yet to be.
It was ordained that they should die in glory — no less was it in the infinite purpose that we should survive. The earnest lesson of the day is that we learn and fulfil that purpose, that while they sleep we guard the field they died to win.
In the quarter of a century that has passed since the last surrender we have had time to come down from the Mount of Transfiguration, to lose something of the exaltation of spirit of the time of war in the dusty scramble for the things that perish, and a generation has arisen that cannot fully appreciate at what great price their freedom was obtained and preserved. We need to be reminded in season and out of season that "eternal vigilance is the price of liberty." The old theory seems to be regaining its lost ground, that the jurisdiction of human government is boundless, and its authority without limit; that all things, including riches and wisdom and virtue and honor, can be attained by the enactment of a legislature. We forget, that while government is an essential agency of society — supreme within its sphere — that its sphere is limited and that it is only an agency, like the Sabbath, made for man: that its province is only in public matters, to protect each from others' trespasses and to insure to every man his own. We do not keep in mind that government cannot create or confer the essential rights of man; that as Jefferson wrote, it is only an institution to secure these rights, and as it does not create or confer these rights, so it cannot justly impair them or take them away.
So long as men are self-seeking there will be efforts made to usurp power in legislation for selfish ends. So long as men are self-righteous they will strive to impose their own standard of right and wrong upon their neighbors, and as the people prefer, or wish to seem to prefer, whatsoever things are honest, or true, or of good report, with success proportioned to the apparent worthiness of the end to be attained. Our liberties are in little danger from the Philistines; it is the leaven of the Pharisee that is the present menace of the republic.

While it was the duty of the veteran, as a soldier, "not to reason why, only to do and die," it is his duty as a veteran, citizen always to reason why. To him much has been given — of him much shall be required. A sovereign citizen, to him is intrusted only in fuller measure, and to a higher degree, the charge of the Roman consul — to see that the republic receives no harm.

As the sphere of government is limited, so, comparatively, is his duty as a citizen; including this duty, intertwined with it, but infinitely broader and higher, is his duty as a man. The conscientious fulfillment of the daily round, the common task, is the path laid out for him to toil in after virtue. We cannot escape the scrutiny and the judgments of the boy of to-day his notion of the defender of the republic, his estimate of those comrades over whose repose we this day scatter the rose, the lily and the violet, is made up of what he sees in us. Their good name is in our keeping. No higher tribute can we pay to the fame of the American soldier than "the white flower of a blameless life.'’ Comrades, brothers! let our remaining days be so disciplined that when our rest is sounded our neighbors may mourn each one of us as we mourn these; that contemplating a character full rounded, freed from stain of ill doing, or rust of indolence, they may say lovingly and proudly. "As his young comrades died, so this veteran lived — for the advantage of his fellow-men."

Easter in Jerusalem in 1697

2010-04-01T17:19:00.000-07:00

Extracts from: A JOURNEY FROM ALEPPO TO JERUSALEM, AT EASTER, A. D. 1697. TO WHICH IS ADDED AN ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR'S JOURNEY TO THE BANKS OF THE EUPHRATES AT BEER, AND TO THE COUNTRY OF MESOPOTAMIA. By Henry MAUNDRELL, M. A. FIRST AMERICAN EDITION. BOSTON: SAMUEL G. SIMPKINS. 1836.

There being several gentlemen of our nation (fourteen in number) determined for a visit to the Holy Land, at the approaching Easter, I resolved, though but newly come to Aleppo, to make one in the same design: considering that as it was my purpose to undertake this pilgrimage some time or other, before my return to England, so I could never do it, either with less prejudice to my cure, or with greater pleasure to myself, than at this juncture; having so large a part of my congregation abroad at the same time, and in my company.

Pursuant to this resolution, we set out from Aleppo, Friday, February 26, 1696, at three in the afternoon, intending to make only a short step that evening, in order to prove how well we were provided with necessaries for our journey.

* * * *

March 25.
In two hours and one third we came to the top of a hill, from whence we had the first prospect of Jerusalem; Rama, anciently called Gibeah of Saul, being within view on the right hand, and the plain of Jericho, and the mountains of Gilead on the left. In one hour more we approached the walls of the holy city; but we could not enter immediately, it being necessary first to send a messenger to acquaint the governor of our arrival, and to desire liberty of entrance.

Without which preceding ceremony, no Frank dares come within the walls. We therefore passed along by the west side of the city, and coming to the corner above Bethlehem gate, made a stop there, in order to expect the return of our messenger. We had not waited above half an hour, when he brought us our permission, and we entered accordingly at Bethlehem gate. It is required of all Franks, unless they happen to come in with some public minister, to dismount at the gate, to deliver their arms, and enter on foot: but we coming in company with the French consul, had the privilege to enter mounted and armed. Just within the gate, we turned up a street on the left hand, and were conducted by the consul to his own house, with most friendly and generous invitations to make that our home, as long as we should continue at Jerusalem. Having taken a little refreshment, we went to the Latin convent, at which all Frank pilgrims are entertained. The guardian and friars received us with many kind welcomes; and kept us with them at supper: after which, we returned to the French consul's to bed. And thus we continued to take our lodging at the consul's, and our board with the friars, during our whole stay at Jerusalem.

Friday, March 26.
The next day being Good Friday, in the Latin style, the consul was obliged to go into the church of the sepulchre, in order to keep his feast; whither we accompanied him although our own Easter was not till a week after theirs. We found the church doors guarded by several Janizaries, and other Turkish officers; who are placed here to watch, that none enter in, but such as have paid first their appointed caphar. This is more or less according to the country, or character of the persons that enter. For Franks, it is ordinarily fourteen dollars per head, unless they are ecclesiastics; for in that case it is but half as much.

Having once paid this caphar, you may go in and out gratis as often as you please during the whole feast; provided you take the ordinary opportunities, in which it is customary to open the doors: but if you would have them opened at any time out of the common course, purposely for your own private occasion, then the first expense must be paid again.

The pilgrims being all admitted this day, the church doors were locked in the evening, and opened no more till Easter day; by which we were kept in a close but very happy confinement for three days. We spent our time in viewing the ceremonies practised by the Latins at this festival, and in visiting the several holy places; all which we had opportunity to survey, with as much freedom and deliberation as we pleased.

And now being got under the sacred roof, and having the advantage of so much leisure and freedom, I might expatiate in a large description of the several holy places, which this church (as a cabinet) contains in it. But this would be a superfluous prolixity, so many pilgrims having discharged this office with so much exactness already, and especially our learned sagacious countryman Mr. Sandys: whose descriptions and draughts, both of this church, and also of the other remarkable places in and about Jerusalem, must be acknowledged so faithful and perfect, that they leave very little to be added by after-comers, and nothing to be corrected. I shall content myself therefore, to relate only what passed in the church during this festival, saying no more of the church itself, than just what is necessary to make my account intelligible. The church of the holy sepulchre is founded upon mount Calvary, which is a small eminence or hill upon the greater mount of Moriah. It was anciently appropriated to the execution of malefactors, and therefore shut out of the walls of the city, as an execrable and polluted place. But since it was made the altar on which was offered up the precious, and all-sufficient sacrifice for the sins of the whole world, it has recovered itself from that infamy, and has been always reverenced and resorted to with such devotion by all Christians, that it has attracted the city round about it, and stands now in the midst of Jerusalem, a great part of the hill of Sion being shut out of the walls, to make room for the admission of Calvary.

In order to the fitting of this hill for the foundation of a church, the first founders were obliged to reduce it to a plain area; which they did by cutting down several parts of the rock, and by elevating others. But in this work, care was taken, that none of those parts of the hill, which were reckoned to be more immediately concerned in our blessed Lord's passion, should be altered or diminished. Thus that very part of Calvary, where they say Christ was fastened to, and lifted upon his cross, is left entire; being about ten or twelve yards square and standing at this day so high above the common floor of the church, that you have twenty-one steps or stairs to go up to its top: and the holy sepulchre itself, which was at first a cave hewn into the rock under ground, having had the rock cut away from it all round, is now as it were a grotto above ground. The church is less than one hundred paces long, and not more than sixty wide: and yet is so contrived, that it is supposed to contain under its roof twelve or thirteen sanctuaries, or places consecrated to a more than ordinary veneration by being reputed to have some particular actions done in them relating to the death and resurrection of Christ As first, the place where he was derided by the soldiers: secondly, where the soldiers divided his garments: thirdly, where he was shut up, whilst they dug the hole to set the foot of the cross in, and made all ready for his crucifixion: fourthly, where he was nailed to the cross: fifthly, where the cross was erected: sixthly, where the soldier stood, that pierced his side: seventhly, where his body was anointed in order to his burial: eighthly, where his body was deposited in the sepulchre: ninthly, where the angels appeared to the women after his resurrection: tenthly, where Christ himself appeared to Mary Magdalen, &c, The places where these and many other things relating to our blessed Lord are said to have been done, are all supposed to be contained within the narrow precincts of this church, and are all distinguished and adorned with so many several altars.

In galleries round about the church, and also in little buildings annexed to it on the outside, are certain apartments for the reception of friars and pilgrims; and in these places almost every Christian nation anciently maintained a small society of monks; each society having its proper quarter assigned to it, by the appointment of the Turks: such as the Latins, Greeks, Syrians, Armenians, Abyssines, Georgians, Nestorians, Cophtites, Maronites, &c., all which had anciently their several apartments in the church. But these have all, except four, forsaken their quarters; not being able to sustain the severe rents and extortions, which their Turkish land-lords impose upon them. The Latins, Greeks, Armenians, and Cophtites, keep their footing still. But of these four, the Cophtites have now only one poor representative of their nation left; and the Armenians are run so much in debt, that it is supposed they are hastening apace to follow the examples of their brethren, who have deserted before them.

Besides their several apartments, each fraternity have their altars and sanctuary, properly and distinctly allotted to their own use. At which places they have a peculiar right to perform their own divine service, and to exclude other nations from them.

But that which has always been the great prize contended for by the several sects, is the command and appropriation of the Holy sepulchre: a privilege contested with so much unchristian fury and animosity, especially between the Greeks and Latins, that in disputing which party should go into it to celebrate their mass, they have sometimes proceeded to blows and wounds even at the very door of the sepulchre; mingling their own blood with their sacrifices. An evidence of which fury the father guardian showed us in a great scar upon his arm, which he told us was the mark of a wound, given him by a sturdy Greek priest in one of these unholy wars. Who can expect ever to see these holy places rescued from the hands of infidels? Or if they should be recovered, what deplorable contest might be expected to follow about them? seeing even in their present state of captivity, they are made the occasion of such unchristian rage and animosity.

For putting an end to these infamous quarrels, the French king interposed by a letter to the grand visier about twelve years since; requesting him to order the holy sepulchre to be put into the hands of the Latins, according to the tenor of the capitulation made in the year 1673. The consequence of which letter, and of ether instances made by the French king, was, that the holy sepulchre was appropriated to the Latins: this was not accomplished till the year 1690 they alone having the privilege to say mass in it. And though it be permitted to Christians of all nations to go into it for their private devotions, yet none may solemnize any public office of religion there, but the Latins.

The daily employment of these recluses is to trim the lamps, and to make devotional visits and processions to the several sanctuaries in the church. Thus they spend their time, many of them for four Or six years together: nay so far are some transported with the pleasing contemplations in which they here entertain themselves, that they will never come out to their dying day burying themselves (as it were) alive in our Lord's grave.

The Latins, of whom there are always about ten or twelve residing at the church, with a president over them, make every day a solemn procession with tapers and crucifixes, and other processionary solemnities, to the several sanctuaries; singing at every one of them a Latin hymn relating to the subject of each place. These Latins being more polite and exact in their functions than the other monks here residing, and also our conversation being chiefly with them, I will only describe their ceremonies, without taking notice of what was done by others, which did not so much come under our observation.

Their ceremony begins on Good Friday night, which is called by them the Nox tenebrosa, and is observed with such an extraordinary solemnity, that I cannot omit to give a particular description of it.

As soon as it grew dusk, all the friars and pilgrims were convened in the chapel of the apparition (which is a small oratory on the north side of the holy grave, adjoining to the apartments of the Latins,) in order to go in a procession round the church. But, before they set out, one of the friars preached a sermon in Italian in that chapel. He began his discourse thus; In questa notte tenebrosa, &c. at which words all the candles were instantly put out, to yield a livelier image of the occasion. And so we were held by the preacher, for near half an hour very much in the dark. Sermon being ended, every person present had a large lighted taper put into his hand, as if it were to make amends for the former darkness; and the crucifixes and other utensils were disposed in order for beginning the procession. Amongst the other crucifixes there was one of a very large size, which bore upon it the image of our Lord, as big as the life. The image was fastened to it with great nails, crowned with thorns, besmeared with blood; and so exquisitely was it formed, that it represented in a very lively manner the lamentable spectacle of our Lord's body, as it hung upon the cross. This figure was carried all along in the head of the procession; after which, the company followed to all the sanctuaries in the church, singing their appointed hymn at every one.

The first place they visited was that of the pillar of flaggellation, a large piece of which is kept in a little cell just at the door of the chapel of the apparition. There they sung their proper hymn; and another friar entertained the company with a sermon in Spanish, touching the scourging of our Lord.

From hence they proceeded in solemn order to the prison of Christ, where they pretend he was secured whilst the soldiers made things ready for his crucifixion; here likewise they sung their hymn, and a third friar preached in French.

From the prison they went to the altar of the division of Christ's garments, where they only sung their hymn, without adding any sermon.

Having done here, they advanced to the chapel of the derision; at which, after their hymn, they had a fourth sermon (as I remember) in French.

From this place they went up to Calvary, leaving their shoes at the bottom of the stairs. Here are two altars to be visited: one where our 'Lord is supposed to have been nailed to his cross; another where his cross was erected. At the former of these they laid down the great crucifix, (which I but now described) upon the floor, and acted a kind of resemblance of Christ's being nailed to the cross; and after the hymn, one of the friars preached another sermon in Spanish upon the crucifixion.

From hence they removed to the adjoining altar, where the cross is supposed to have been erected, bearing the image of our Lord's body;

At this altar is a hole in the natural rock, said to be the very same individual one, in which the foot of our Lord's cross stood. Here they set up their cross with the bloody crucified image upon it; and leaving it in that posture, they first sung their hymn, and then the father guardian, sitting in a chair before it, preached a passion-sermon in Italian.

At about one yard and a half distance from the hole in which the foot of the cross was fixed, is seen that memorable cleft in the rock, said to have been made by the earthquake which happened at the suffering of our Lord; when (as St. Matthew, Chap, xxvii. ver. 51, witnesseth) the rocks rent, and the very graves were opened. This cleft, as to what now appears of it, is about a span wide at its upper part, and two deep; after which it closes: but it opens again below, (as you may see in another chapel contiguous to the side of Calvary,) and runs down to an unknown depth in the earth. That this rent was made by the earthquake, that happened at our Lord's passion, there is only tradition to prove: but that it is a natural and genuine breach, and not counterfeited by any art, the sense and reason of every one that sees it may convince him; for the sides of it fit like two tallies to each other: and yet it runs in such intricate windings as could not well be counterfeited by art, nor arrived at by any instruments.

The ceremony of the passion being over, and the Guardian's sermon ended, two friars, personating, the one Joseph of Arimathea, the other Nicodemus, approached the cross, and with a most solemn concerned air, both of aspect and behavior, drew out the great nails, and took down the feigned body from the cross. It was an effigy so contrived, that its limbs were soft and flexible, as if they had been real flesh: and nothing could be more surprising, than to see the two pretended mourners bend down the arms, which were before extended, and dispose them upon the trunk, in such a manner as is usual in corpses.

The body being taken down from the cross, was received in a fair large winding-sheet, and carried down from Calvary; the whole company attending as before, to the stone of unction. This is taken for the very place where the precious body of our Lord was anointed, and prepared for the burial, John xix. 39. Here they laid down their imaginary corpse; and casting over it several sweet powders and spices, wrapt it up in the winding-sheet: whilst this was doing, they sung their proper hymn, and after-wards one of the friars preached in Arabic a funeral sermon.

These obsequies being finished, they carried off their fancied corpse, and laid it in the sepulchre; shutting up the door till Easter morning. And now after so many sermons, and so long, not to say tedious a ceremony, it may well be imagined that the weariness of the congregation, as well as the hour of the night, made it needful to go to rest.

Saturday, March 27.
The next morning nothing extraordinary passed; which gave many of the pilgrims leisure to have their arms marked with the usual ensigns of Jerusalem. The artists, who undertake the operation, do it in this manner. They have stamps in wood of any figure that you desire; which they first print off upon your arm with powder of charcoal: then taking two very fine needles tied close together, and dipping them often, like a pen in certain ink, compounded as I was informed of gunpowder and ox-gall, they make with them small punctures all along the lines of the figure which they have printed; and then washing the part in wine, conclude the work. These punctures they make with great quickness and dexterity, and with scarce any smart, seldom piercing so deep as to draw blood. In the afternoon of this day, the congregation was assembled in the area before the holy grave, where the friars spent some hours in singing over the Lamentations of Jeremiah; which function, with the usual procession to the holy places, was all the ceremony of this day.

Sunday, March 28.
On Easter morning, the sepulchre was again set open very early. The clouds of the former morning were cleared up; and the friars put on a face of joy and serenity, as if it had been the real juncture of our Lord's resurrection. Nor doubtless was this joy feigned, whatever their mourning might be, this being the day in which their lenten disciplines expired, and they were to come to a full belly again.

The mass was celebrated this morning just before the holy sepulchre, being the most eminent place in the church; where the father guardian had a throne erected, and being arrayed in episcopal robes, with a mitre on his head, in the sight of the Turks, he gave the host to all that were disposed to receive it; not refusing children of seven or eight years old. This office being ended, we made our exit out of the sepulchre, and returning to the convent, dined with the friars.

After dinner, we took an opportunity to go and visit some of the remarkable places without the city walls; we began with those on the north side.

The first place we were conducted to was a large grot, a little without Damascus Gate; said to have been some time the residence of Jeremiah. On the left side of it is shown the prophet's bed, being a shelve on the rock, about eight feet from the ground, and not far from this, is the place where they say he wrote his lamentations. This place is at present a college of Dervises, and is held in great veneration by the Turks and Jews, as well as Christians.

The next place we came to was those famous grots called the sepulchres of the kings; but for what reason they go by that name is hard to resolve: for it is certain none of the kings, either of Israel or Judah, were buried here, the holy scriptures, assigning other places for their sepultures; unless it may be thought perhaps that Hezekiah was here interred, and that these were the sepulchres of the sons of David, mentioned 2 Chron. xxxii. 33. Whoever was buried here, this is certain, that the place itself discovers so great an expense both of labor and treasure, that we may well suppose it to have been the work of kings. You approach to it at the east side, through an entrance cut out of the natural rock, which admits you into an open court of about forty paces square, cut down into the rock with which it is encompassed, instead of walls. On the south side of the court, is a portico nine paces long and four broad, hewn likewise out of the natural rock. This has a kind of architrave running along its front, adorned with sculpture of fruits and flowers, still discernible, but by time much defaced. At the end of the portico on the left hand, you descend to the passage into the sepulchres. The door is now so obstructed with stones and rubbish, that it is a thing of some difficulty to creep through it. But within you arrive in a large fair room, about seven or eight yards square, cut out of the natural rock. Its sides and ceiling are so exactly square, and its angles so just, that no architect with levels and plummets could build a room more regular: and the whole is so firm and entire, that it may be called a chamber hollowed out of one piece of marble. From this room, you pass into (I think) six more, one within another, all of the same fabric with the first Of these, the two innermost are deeper than the rest, having a second descent of about six or seven steps into them.

In every one of these rooms except the first, were coffins of stone placed in niches in the sides of the chambers. They had been at first covered with handsome lids, and carved with garlands; but now most of them were broke to pieces by sacrilegious hands. The sides and ceiling of the rooms were always dropping, with the moist damps condensing upon them. To remedy which nuisance, and to preserve these chambers of the dead polite and clean, there was in each room a small channel cut in the floor, which served to drain the drops that fall constantly into it.

But the most surprising thing belonging to these subterraneous chambers was their doors; of which there is only one that remains hang tag, being left as it were on purpose to puzzle the beholders. It consisted of a plank of stone of about six inches in thickness, and in its other dimensions equalling the size of an ordinary door, or somewhat less. It was carved in such a manner, as to resemble a piece of wainscot. The stone of which it was made was visibly of the same kind with the whole rock, and it turned upon two hinges in the nature of axles. These hinges were of the same entire piece of stone with the door; and were contained in two holes of the immovable rock, one at the top, the other at the bottom.

From this description it is obvious to start a question, how such doors as these were made? Whether they were cut out of the rock, in the same place and manner as they now hang; or whether they were brought, and fixed in their station like other doors? One of these must be supposed to have been .done: and whichsoever part we choose, as most probable, it seems at first glance to be not without its difficulty. But thus much I have to say, for the resolving of this riddle, (which is wont to create no small dispute amongst pilgrims,) viz. that the door which was left hanging did not touch its lintel, by at least two inches; so that I believe it might easily hare been lifted up and unhinged. And the doors which had been thrown down, had their hinges at the upper end, twice as long as those at the bottom; which seems to intimate pretty plainly, by what method this work was accomplished.

From these sepulchres, we returned toward the city again, and just by Herod's Gate were shewn a grotto full of filthy water and mire. This passes for the dungeon in which Jeremiah was kept by Zedekiah, till enlarged by the charity of Ebed Melech. Jer. xxxviii. At this place we concluded our visits for that evening.

New Year’s Music from Scotland

2009-12-31T20:24:00.000-08:00

Extracts from: The Scots musical museum in six volumes. Consisting of six hundred Scots songs with proper basses for the piano forte &c. Humbly dedicated to the Society of anti-quaries of Scotland, by James Johnson
Published in 1787, Printed & sold by J. Johnson (Edinburgh)

A poem set to music by Robert Burns in the 1796 edition of the book. The final volumes of the six volumes collection of 600 Scottish songs were published in 1803. Note: Robert Burns contributed 184 songs. He wrote most of the prefaces to the six different volumes. Arrangements of the airs were prepared chiefly by Stephen Clarke. Burns “wrote” the lyrics which he heard from an unidentified old man. The first line is similar to a song written in 1711 - Old Long Syne by James Watson.

Auld Lang Syne
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp!
and surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS
We twa hae run about the braes,
and pu’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary foot,
sin auld lang syne.

CHORUS
We twa hae paidl’d i' the burn,
frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
sin auld lang syne.

CHORUS
And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!
and gie's a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

George Washington and Thanksgiving

2009-11-25T15:48:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving Proclamation
New York, 3 October 1789
By the President of the United States of America, a Proclamation.

Whereas it is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favor-- and whereas both Houses of Congress have by their joint Committee requested me to recommend to the People of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many signal favors of Almighty God especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness.

Now therefore I do recommend and assign Thursday the 26th day of November next to be devoted by the People of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be-- That we may then all unite in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks--for his kind care and protection of the People of this Country previous to their becoming a Nation--for the signal and manifold mercies, and the favorable interpositions of his Providence which we experienced in the course and conclusion of the late war--for the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed--for the peaceable and rational manner, in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, and particularly the national One now lately instituted--for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed; and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge; and in general for all the great and various favors which he hath been pleased to confer upon us.

and also that we may then unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech him to pardon our national and other transgressions-- to enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually--to render our national government a blessing to all the people, by constantly being a Government of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executed and obeyed--to protect and guide all Sovereigns and Nations (especially such as have shewn kindness unto us) and to bless them with good government, peace, and concord--To promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the encrease of science among them and us--and generally to grant unto all Mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as he alone knows to be best.

Given under my hand at the City of New York the third day of October in the year of our Lord 1789.

Go: Washington

Mark Twain on the Murderous Thugs of India

2009-11-06T11:02:00.000-08:00

Extracts from: FOLLOWING THE EQUATOR, Complete, A JOURNEY AROUND THE WORLD, BY MARK TWAIN, SAMUEL L. CLEMENS, HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT

CHAPTER XLVI.
If the desire to kill and the opportunity to kill came always together, who would escape hanging.
—Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.

On the Train. Fifty years ago, when I was a boy in the then remote and sparsely peopled Mississippi valley, vague tales and rumors of a mysterious body of professional murderers came wandering in from a country which was constructively as far from us as the constellations blinking in space—India; vague tales and rumors of a sect called Thugs, who waylaid travelers in lonely places and killed them for the contentment of a god whom they worshiped; tales which everybody liked to listen to and nobody believed, except with reservations. It was considered that the stories had gathered bulk on their travels. The matter died down and a lull followed. Then Eugene Sue's "Wandering Jew" appeared, and made great talk for a while. One character in it was a chief of Thugs—"Feringhea"—a mysterious and terrible Indian who was as slippery and sly as a serpent, and as deadly; and he stirred up the Thug interest once more. But it did not last. It presently died again this time to stay dead.

At first glance it seems strange that this should have happened; but really it was not strange—on the contrary—it was natural; I mean on our side of the water. For the source whence the Thug tales mainly came was a Government Report, and without doubt was not republished in America; it was probably never even seen there. Government Reports have no general circulation. They are distributed to the few, and are not always read by those few. I heard of this Report for the first time a day or two ago, and borrowed it. It is full of fascinations; and it turns those dim, dark fairy tales of my boyhood days into realities.

The Report was made in 1839 by Major Sleeman, of the Indian Service, and was printed in Calcutta in 1840. It is a clumsy, great, fat, poor sample of the printer's art, but good enough for a government printing-office in that old day and in that remote region, perhaps. To Major Sleeman was given the general superintendence of the giant task of ridding India of Thuggee, and he and his seventeen assistants accomplished it. It was the Augean Stables over again. Captain Vallancey, writing in a Madras journal in those old times, makes this remark:

"The day that sees this far-spread evil eradicated from India and known only in name, will greatly tend to immortalize British rule in the East."

He did not overestimate the magnitude and difficulty of the work, nor the immensity of the credit which would justly be due to British rule in case it was accomplished.

Thuggee became known to the British authorities in India about 1810, but its wide prevalence was not suspected; it was not regarded as a serious matter, and no systematic measures were taken for its suppression until about 1830. About that time Major Sleeman captured Eugene Sue's Thug-chief, "Feringhea," and got him to turn King's evidence. The revelations were so stupefying that Sleeman was not able to believe them. Sleeman thought he knew every criminal within his jurisdiction, and that the worst of them were merely thieves; but Feringhea told him that he was in reality living in the midst of a swarm of professional murderers; that they had been all about him for many years, and that they buried their dead close by. These seemed insane tales; but Feringhea said come and see—and he took him to a grave and dug up a hundred bodies, and told him all the circumstances of the killings, and named the Thugs who had done the work. It was a staggering business. Sleeman captured some of these Thugs and proceeded to examine them separately, and with proper precautions against collusion; for he would not believe any Indian's unsupported word. The evidence gathered proved the truth of what Feringhea had said, and also revealed the fact that gangs of Thugs were plying their trade all over India. The astonished government now took hold of Thuggee, and for ten years made systematic and relentless war upon it, and finally destroyed it. Gang after gang was captured, tried, and punished. The Thugs were harried and hunted from one end of India to the other. The government got all their secrets out of them; and also got the names of the members of the bands, and recorded them in a book, together with their birthplaces and places of residence.

The Thugs were worshipers of Bhowanee; and to this god they sacrificed anybody that came handy; but they kept the dead man's things themselves, for the god cared for nothing but the corpse. Men were initiated into the sect with solemn ceremonies. Then they were taught how to strangle a person with the sacred choke-cloth, but were not allowed to perform officially with it until after long practice. No half-educated strangler could choke a man to death quickly enough to keep him from uttering a sound—a muffled scream, gurgle, gasp, moan, or something of the sort; but the expert's work was instantaneous: the cloth was whipped around the victim's neck, there was a sudden twist, and the head fell silently forward, the eyes starting from the sockets; and all was over. The Thug carefully guarded against resistance. It was usual to to get the victims to sit down, for that was the handiest position for business.

If the Thug had planned India itself it could not have been more conveniently arranged for the needs of his occupation.

There were no public conveyances. There were no conveyances for hire. The traveler went on foot or in a bullock cart or on a horse which he bought for the purpose. As soon as he was out of his own little State or principality he was among strangers; nobody knew him, nobody took note of him, and from that time his movements could no longer be traced. He did not stop in towns or villages, but camped outside of them and sent his servants in to buy provisions. There were no habitations between villages. Whenever he was between villages he was an easy prey, particularly as he usually traveled by night, to avoid the heat. He was always being overtaken by strangers who offered him the protection of their company, or asked for the protection of his—and these strangers were often Thugs, as he presently found out to his cost. The landholders, the native police, the petty princes, the village officials, the customs officers were in many cases protectors and harborers of the Thugs, and betrayed travelers to them for a share of the spoil. At first this condition of things made it next to impossible for the government to catch the marauders; they were spirited away by these watchful friends. All through a vast continent, thus infested, helpless people of every caste and kind moved along the paths and trails in couples and groups silently by night, carrying the commerce of the country—treasure, jewels, money, and petty batches of silks, spices, and all manner of wares. It was a paradise for the Thug.

When the autumn opened, the Thugs began to gather together by pre-concert. Other people had to have interpreters at every turn, but not the Thugs; they could talk together, no matter how far apart they were born, for they had a language of their own, and they had secret signs by which they knew each other for Thugs; and they were always friends. Even their diversities of religion and caste were sunk in devotion to their calling, and the Moslem and the high-caste and low-caste Hindoo were staunch and affectionate brothers in Thuggery.

When a gang had been assembled, they had religious worship, and waited for an omen. They had definite notions about the omens. The cries of certain animals were good omens, the cries of certain other creatures were bad omens. A bad omen would stop proceedings and send the men home.

The sword and the strangling-cloth were sacred emblems. The Thugs worshiped the sword at home before going out to the assembling-place; the strangling-cloth was worshiped at the place of assembly. The chiefs of most of the bands performed the religious ceremonies themselves; but the Kaets delegated them to certain official stranglers (Chaurs). The rites of the Kaets were so holy that no one but the Chaur was allowed to touch the vessels and other things used in them.

Thug methods exhibit a curious mixture of caution and the absence of it; cold business calculation and sudden, unreflecting impulse; but there were two details which were constant, and not subject to caprice: patient persistence in following up the prey, and pitilessness when the time came to act.

Caution was exhibited in the strength of the bands. They never felt comfortable and confident unless their strength exceeded that of any party of travelers they were likely to meet by four or fivefold. Yet it was never their purpose to attack openly, but only when the victims were off their guard. When they got hold of a party of travelers they often moved along in their company several days, using all manner of arts to win their friendship and get their confidence. At last, when this was accomplished to their satisfaction, the real business began. A few Thugs were privately detached and sent forward in the dark to select a good killing-place and dig the graves. When the rest reached the spot a halt was called, for a rest or a smoke. The travelers were invited to sit. By signs, the chief appointed certain Thugs to sit down in front of the travelers as if to wait upon them, others to sit down beside them and engage them in conversation, and certain expert stranglers to stand behind the travelers and be ready when the signal was given. The signal was usually some commonplace remark, like "Bring the tobacco." Sometimes a considerable wait ensued after all the actors were in their places—the chief was biding his time, in order to make everything sure. Meantime, the talk droned on, dim figures moved about in the dull light, peace and tranquility reigned, the travelers resigned themselves to the pleasant reposefulness and comfort of the situation, unconscious of the death-angels standing motionless at their backs. The time was ripe, now, and the signal came: "Bring the tobacco." There was a mute swift movement, all in the same instant the men at each victim's sides seized his hands, the man in front seized his feet, and pulled, the man at his back whipped the cloth around his neck and gave it a twist—the head sunk forward, the tragedy was over. The bodies were stripped and covered up in the graves, the spoil packed for transportation, then the Thugs gave pious thanks to Bhowanee, and departed on further holy service.

The Report shows that the travelers moved in exceedingly small groups—twos, threes, fours, as a rule; a party with a dozen in it was rare. The Thugs themselves seem to have been the only people who moved in force. They went about in gangs of 10, 15, 25, 40, 60, 100, 150, 200, 250, and one gang of 310 is mentioned. Considering their numbers, their catch was not extraordinary—particularly when you consider that they were not in the least fastidious, but took anybody they could get, whether rich or poor, and sometimes even killed children. Now and then they killed women, but it was considered sinful to do it, and unlucky. The "season" was six or eight months long. One season the half dozen Bundelkand and Gwalior gangs aggregated 712 men, and they murdered 210 people. One season the Malwa and Kandeish gangs aggregated 702 men, and they murdered 232. One season the Kandeish and Berar gangs aggregated 963 men, and they murdered 385 people.

Here is the tally-sheet of a gang of sixty Thugs for a whole season—gang under two noted chiefs, "Chotee and Sheik Nungoo from Gwalior":

"Left Poora, in Jhansee, and on arrival at Sarora murdered a traveler.

"On nearly reaching Bhopal, met 3 Brahmins, and murdered them.

"Cross the Nerbudda; at a village called Hutteea, murdered a Hindoo.

"Went through Aurungabad to Walagow; there met a Havildar of the barber caste and 5 sepoys (native soldiers); in the evening came to Jokur, and in the morning killed them near the place where the treasure-bearers were killed the year before.

"Between Jokur and Dholeea met a sepoy of the shepherd caste; killed him in the jungle.

"Passed through Dholeea and lodged in a village; two miles beyond, on the road to Indore, met a Byragee (beggar-holy mendicant); murdered him at the Thapa.

"In the morning, beyond the Thapa, fell in with 3 Marwarie travelers; murdered them.

"Near a village on the banks of the Taptee met 4 travelers and killed them.

"Between Choupra and Dhoreea met a Marwarie; murdered him.

"At Dhoreea met 3 Marwaries; took them two miles and murdered them.

"Two miles further on, overtaken by three treasure-bearers; took them two miles and murdered them in the jungle.

"Came on to Khurgore Bateesa in Indore, divided spoil, and dispersed.

"A total of 27 men murdered on one expedition."

Chotee (to save his neck) was informer, and furnished these facts. Several things are noticeable about his resume. 1. Business brevity; 2, absence of emotion; 3, smallness of the parties encountered by the 60; 4, variety in character and quality of the game captured; 5, Hindoo and Mohammedan chiefs in business together for Bhowanee; 6, the sacred caste of the Brahmins not respected by either; 7, nor yet the character of that mendicant, that Byragee.

A beggar is a holy creature, and some of the gangs spared him on that account, no matter how slack business might be; but other gangs slaughtered not only him, but even that sacredest of sacred creatures, the fakeer—that repulsive skin-and-bone thing that goes around naked and mats his bushy hair with dust and dirt, and so beflours his lean body with ashes that he looks like a specter. Sometimes a fakeer trusted a shade too far in the protection of his sacredness. In the middle of a tally-sheet of Feringhea's, who had been out with forty Thugs, I find a case of the kind. After the killing of thirty-nine men and one woman, the fakeer appears on the scene:

"Approaching Doregow, met 3 pundits; also a fakeer, mounted on a pony; he was plastered over with sugar to collect flies, and was covered with them. Drove off the fakeer, and killed the other three.

"Leaving Doregow, the fakeer joined again, and went on in company to Raojana; met 6 Khutries on their way from Bombay to Nagpore. Drove off the fakeer with stones, and killed the 6 men in camp, and buried them in the grove.

"Next day the fakeer joined again; made him leave at Mana. Beyond there, fell in with two Kahars and a sepoy, and came on towards the place selected for the murder. When near it, the fakeer came again. Losing all patience with him, gave Mithoo, one of the gang, 5 rupees ($2.50) to murder him, and take the sin upon himself. All four were strangled, including the fakeer. Surprised to find among the fakeer's effects 30 pounds of coral, 350 strings of small pearls, 15 strings of large pearls, and a gilt necklace."

It it curious, the little effect that time has upon a really interesting circumstance. This one, so old, so long ago gone down into oblivion, reads with the same freshness and charm that attach to the news in the morning paper; one's spirits go up, then down, then up again, following the chances which the fakeer is running; now you hope, now you despair, now you hope again; and at last everything comes out right, and you feel a great wave of personal satisfaction go weltering through you, and without thinking, you put out your hand to pat Mithoo on the back, when—puff! the whole thing has vanished away, there is nothing there; Mithoo and all the crowd have been dust and ashes and forgotten, oh, so many, many, many lagging years! And then comes a sense of injury: you don't know whether Mithoo got the swag, along with the sin, or had to divide up the swag and keep all the sin himself. There is no literary art about a government report. It stops a story right in the most interesting place.

These reports of Thug expeditions run along interminably in one monotonous tune: "Met a sepoy—killed him; met 5 pundits—killed them; met 4 Rajpoots and a woman—killed them"—and so on, till the statistics get to be pretty dry. But this small trip of Feringhea's Forty had some little variety about it. Once they came across a man hiding in a grave—a thief; he had stolen 1,100 rupees from Dhunroj Seith of Parowtee. They strangled him and took the money. They had no patience with thieves. They killed two treasure-bearers, and got 4,000 rupees. They came across two bullocks "laden with copper pice," and killed the four drivers and took the money. There must have been half a ton of it. I think it takes a double handful of pice to make an anna, and 16 annas to make a rupee; and even in those days the rupee was worth only half a dollar. Coming back over their tracks from Baroda, they had another picturesque stroke of luck: "'The Lohars of Oodeypore' put a traveler in their charge for safety." Dear, dear, across this abyssmal gulf of time we still see Feringhea's lips uncover his teeth, and through the dim haze we catch the incandescent glimmer of his smile. He accepted that trust, good man; and so we know what went with the traveler.

Even Rajahs had no terrors for Feringhea; he came across an elephant-driver belonging to the Rajah of Oodeypore and promptly strangled him.

"A total of 100 men and 5 women murdered on this expedition."

Among the reports of expeditions we find mention of victims of almost every quality and estate:

Native soldiers.
Fakeers.
Mendicants.
Holy-water carriers.
Carpenters.
Peddlers.
Tailors.
Blacksmiths.
Policemen (native).
Pastry cooks.
Grooms.
Mecca pilgrims.
Chuprassies.
Treasure-bearers.
Children.
Cowherds.
Gardeners.
Shopkeepers.
Palanquin-bearers.
Farmers.
Bullock-drivers.
Male servants seeking work.
Women servants seeking work.
Shepherds.
Archers.
Table-waiters.
Weavers.
Priests.
Bankers.
Boatmen.
Merchants.
Grass-cutters.

Also a prince's cook; and even the water-carrier of that sublime lord of lords and king of kings, the Governor-General of India! How broad they were in their tastes! They also murdered actors—poor wandering barnstormers. There are two instances recorded; the first one by a gang of Thugs under a chief who soils a great name borne by a better man—Kipling's deathless "Gungadin":

"After murdering 4 sepoys, going on toward Indore, met 4 strolling players, and persuaded them to come with us, on the pretense that we would see their performance at the next stage. Murdered them at a temple near Bhopal."

Second instance:

"At Deohuttee, joined by comedians. Murdered them eastward of that place."

But this gang was a particularly bad crew. On that expedition they murdered a fakeer and twelve beggars. And yet Bhowanee protected them; for once when they were strangling a man in a wood when a crowd was going by close at hand and the noose slipped and the man screamed, Bhowanee made a camel burst out at the same moment with a roar that drowned the scream; and before the man could repeat it the breath was choked out of his body.

The cow is so sacred in India that to kill her keeper is an awful sacrilege, and even the Thugs recognized this; yet now and then the lust for blood was too strong, and so they did kill a few cow-keepers. In one of these instances the witness who killed the cowherd said, "In Thuggee this is strictly forbidden, and is an act from which no good can come. I was ill of a fever for ten days afterward. I do believe that evil will follow the murder of a man with a cow. If there be no cow it does not signify." Another Thug said he held the cowherd's feet while this witness did the strangling. He felt no concern, "because the bad fortune of such a deed is upon the strangler and not upon the assistants; even if there should be a hundred of them."

There were thousands of Thugs roving over India constantly, during many generations. They made Thuggee a hereditary vocation and taught it to their sons and to their son's sons. Boys were in full membership as early as 16 years of age; veterans were still at work at 70. What was the fascination, what was the impulse? Apparently, it was partly piety, largely gain, and there is reason to suspect that the sport afforded was the chiefest fascination of all. Meadows Taylor makes a Thug in one of his books claim that the pleasure of killing men was the white man's beast-hunting instinct enlarged, refined, ennobled. I will quote the passage:

CHAPTER XLVII.
Simple rules for saving money: To save half, when you are fired by an eager impulse to contribute to a charity, wait, and count forty. To save three-quarters, count sixty. To save it all, count sixty-five.

—Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.
The Thug said:

"How many of you English are passionately devoted to sporting! Your days and months are passed in its excitement. A tiger, a panther, a buffalo or a hog rouses your utmost energies for its destruction—you even risk your lives in its pursuit. How much higher game is a Thug's!"

That must really be the secret of the rise and development of Thuggee. The joy of killing! the joy of seeing killing done—these are traits of the human race at large. We white people are merely modified Thugs; Thugs fretting under the restraints of a not very thick skin of civilization; Thugs who long ago enjoyed the slaughter of the Roman arena, and later the burning of doubtful Christians by authentic Christians in the public squares, and who now, with the Thugs of Spain and Nimes, flock to enjoy the blood and misery of the bullring. We have no tourists of either sex or any religion who are able to resist the delights of the bull-ring when opportunity offers; and we are gentle Thugs in the hunting-season, and love to chase a tame rabbit and kill it. Still, we have made some progress-microscopic, and in truth scarcely worth mentioning, and certainly nothing to be proud of—still, it is progress: we no longer take pleasure in slaughtering or burning helpless men. We have reached a little altitude where we may look down upon the Indian Thugs with a complacent shudder; and we may even hope for a day, many centuries hence, when our posterity will look down upon us in the same way.

There are many indications that the Thug often hunted men for the mere sport of it; that the fright and pain of the quarry were no more to him than are the fright and pain of the rabbit or the stag to us; and that he was no more ashamed of beguiling his game with deceits and abusing its trust than are we when we have imitated a wild animal's call and shot it when it honored us with its confidence and came to see what we wanted:

"Madara, son of Nihal, and I, Ramzam, set out from Kotdee in the cold weather and followed the high road for about twenty days in search of travelers, until we came to Selempore, where we met a very old man going to the east. We won his confidence in this manner: he carried a load which was too heavy for his old age; I said to him, 'You are an old man, I will aid you in carrying your load, as you are from my part of the country.' He said, 'Very well, take me with you.' So we took him with us to Selempore, where we slept that night. We woke him next morning before dawn and set out, and at the distance of three miles we seated him to rest while it was still very dark. Madara was ready behind him, and strangled him. He never spoke a word. He was about 60 or 70 years of age."

Another gang fell in with a couple of barbers and persuaded them to come along in their company by promising them the job of shaving the whole crew—30 Thugs. At the place appointed for the murder 15 got shaved, and actually paid the barbers for their work. Then killed them and took back the money.

A gang of forty-two Thugs came across two Brahmins and a shopkeeper on the road, beguiled them into a grove and got up a concert for their entertainment. While these poor fellows were listening to the music the stranglers were standing behind them; and at the proper moment for dramatic effect they applied the noose.

The most devoted fisherman must have a bite at least as often as once a week or his passion will cool and he will put up his tackle. The tiger-sportsman must find a tiger at least once a fortnight or he will get tired and quit. The elephant-hunter's enthusiasm will waste away little by little, and his zeal will perish at last if he plod around a month without finding a member of that noble family to assassinate.

But when the lust in the hunter's heart is for the noblest of all quarries, man, how different is the case! and how watery and poor is the zeal and how childish the endurance of those other hunters by comparison. Then, neither hunger, nor thirst, nor fatigue, nor deferred hope, nor monotonous disappointment, nor leaden-footed lapse of time can conquer the hunter's patience or weaken the joy of his quest or cool the splendid rage of his desire. Of all the hunting-passions that burn in the breast of man, there is none that can lift him superior to discouragements like these but the one—the royal sport, the supreme sport, whose quarry is his brother. By comparison, tiger-hunting is a colorless poor thing, for all it has been so bragged about.

Why, the Thug was content to tramp patiently along, afoot, in the wasting heat of India, week after week, at an average of nine or ten miles a day, if he might but hope to find game some time or other and refresh his longing soul with blood. Here is an instance:

"I (Ramzam) and Hyder set out, for the purpose of strangling travelers, from Guddapore, and proceeded via the Fort of Julalabad, Newulgunge, Bangermow, on the banks of the Ganges (upwards of 100 miles), from whence we returned by another route. Still no travelers! till we reached Bowaneegunge, where we fell in with a traveler, a boatman; we inveigled him and about two miles east of there Hyder strangled him as he stood—for he was troubled and afraid, and would not sit. We then made a long journey (about 130 miles) and reached Hussunpore Bundwa, where at the tank we fell in with a traveler—he slept there that night; next morning we followed him and tried to win his confidence; at the distance of two miles we endeavored to induce him to sit down—but he would not, having become aware of us. I attempted to strangle him as he walked along, but did not succeed; both of us then fell upon him, he made a great outcry, 'They are murdering me!' at length we strangled him and flung his body into a well. After this we returned to our homes, having been out a month and traveled about 260 miles. A total of two men murdered on the expedition."

And here is another case-related by the terrible Futty Khan, a man with a tremendous record, to be re-mentioned by and by:

"I, with three others, traveled for about 45 days a distance of about 200 miles in search of victims along the highway to Bundwa and returned by Davodpore (another 200 miles) during which journey we had only one murder, which happened in this manner. Four miles to the east of Noubustaghat we fell in with a traveler, an old man. I, with Koshal and Hyder, inveigled him and accompanied him that day within 3 miles of Rampoor, where, after dark, in a lonely place, we got him to sit down and rest; and while I kept him in talk, seated before him, Hyder behind strangled him: he made no resistance. Koshal stabbed him under the arms and in the throat, and we flung the body into a running stream. We got about 4 or 5 rupees each ($2 or $2.50). We then proceeded homewards. A total of one man murdered on this expedition."

There. They tramped 400 miles, were gone about three months, and harvested two dollars and a half apiece. But the mere pleasure of the hunt was sufficient. That was pay enough. They did no grumbling.

Every now and then in this big book one comes across that pathetic remark: "we tried to get him to sit down but he would not." It tells the whole story. Some accident had awakened the suspicion in him that these smooth friends who had been petting and coddling him and making him feel so safe and so fortunate after his forlorn and lonely wanderings were the dreaded Thugs; and now their ghastly invitation to "sit and rest" had confirmed its truth. He knew there was no help for him, and that he was looking his last upon earthly things, but "he would not sit." No, not that—it was too awful to think of!

There are a number of instances which indicate that when a man had once tasted the regal joys of man-hunting he could not be content with the dull monotony of a crimeless life after ward. Example, from a Thug's testimony:

"We passed through to Kurnaul, where we found a former Thug named Junooa, an old comrade of ours, who had turned religious mendicant and become a disciple and holy. He came to us in the serai and weeping with joy returned to his old trade."

Neither wealth nor honors nor dignities could satisfy a reformed Thug for long. He would throw them all away, someday, and go back to the lurid pleasures of hunting men, and being hunted himself by the British.

Ramzam was taken into a great native grandee's service and given authority over five villages. "My authority extended over these people to summons them to my presence, to make them stand or sit. I dressed well, rode my pony, and had two sepoys, a scribe and a village guard to attend me. During three years I used to pay each village a monthly visit, and no one suspected that I was a Thug! The chief man used to wait on me to transact business, and as I passed along, old and young made their salaam to me."

And yet during that very three years he got leave of absence "to attend a wedding," and instead went off on a Thugging lark with six other Thugs and hunted the highway for fifteen days!—with satisfactory results.

Afterwards he held a great office under a Rajah. There he had ten miles of country under his command and a military guard of fifteen men, with authority to call out 2,000 more upon occasion. But the British got on his track, and they crowded him so that he had to give himself up. See what a figure he was when he was gotten up for style and had all his things on: "I was fully armed—a sword, shield, pistols, a matchlock musket and a flint gun, for I was fond of being thus arrayed, and when so armed feared not though forty men stood before me."

He gave himself up and proudly proclaimed himself a Thug. Then by request he agreed to betray his friend and pal, Buhram, a Thug with the most tremendous record in India. "I went to the house where Buhram slept (often has he led our gangs!) I woke him, he knew me well, and came outside to me. It was a cold night, so under pretence of warming myself, but in reality to have light for his seizure by the guards, I lighted some straw and made a blaze. We were warming our hands. The guards drew around us. I said to them, 'This is Buhram,' and he was seized just as a cat seizes a mouse. Then Buhram said, 'I am a Thug! my father was a Thug, my grandfather was a Thug, and I have thugged with many!'"

So spoke the mighty hunter, the mightiest of the mighty, the Gordon Cumming of his day. Not much regret noticeable in it.—["Having planted a bullet in the shoulder-bone of an elephant, and caused the agonized creature to lean for support against a tree, I proceeded to brew some coffee. Having refreshed myself, taking observations of the elephant's spasms and writhings between the sips, I resolved to make experiments on vulnerable points, and, approaching very near, I fired several bullets at different parts of his enormous skull. He only acknowledged the shots by a salaam-like movement of his trunk, with the point of which he gently touched the wounds with a striking and peculiar action. Surprised and shocked to find that I was only prolonging the suffering of the noble beast, which bore its trials with such dignified composure, I resolved to finish the proceeding with all possible despatch, and accordingly opened fire upon him from the left side. Aiming at the shoulder, I fired six shots with the two-grooved rifle, which must have eventually proved mortal, after which I fired six shots at the same part with the Dutch six-founder. Large tears now trickled down from his eyes, which he slowly shut and opened, his colossal frame shivered convulsively, and falling on his side he expired."—Gordon Cumming.]

So many many times this Official Report leaves one's curiosity unsatisfied. For instance, here is a little paragraph out of the record of a certain band of 193 Thugs, which has that defect:

"Fell in with Lall Sing Subahdar and his family, consisting of nine persons. Traveled with them two days, and the third put them all to death except the two children, little boys of one and a half years old."

There it stops. What did they do with those poor little fellows? What was their subsequent history? Did they purpose training them up as Thugs? How could they take care of such little creatures on a march which stretched over several months? No one seems to have cared to ask any questions about the babies. But I do wish I knew.

One would be apt to imagine that the Thugs were utterly callous, utterly destitute of human feelings, heartless toward their own families as well as toward other people's; but this was not so. Like all other Indians, they had a passionate love for their kin. A shrewd British officer who knew the Indian character, took that characteristic into account in laying his plans for the capture of Eugene Sue's famous Feringhea. He found out Feringhea's hiding-place, and sent a guard by night to seize him, but the squad was awkward and he got away. However, they got the rest of the family—the mother, wife, child, and brother—and brought them to the officer, at Jubbulpore; the officer did not fret, but bided his time: "I knew Feringhea would not go far while links so dear to him were in my hands." He was right. Feringhea knew all the danger he was running by staying in the neighborhood, still he could not tear himself away. The officer found that he divided his time between five villages where be had relatives and friends who could get news for him from his family in Jubbulpore jail; and that he never slept two consecutive nights in the same village. The officer traced out his several haunts, then pounced upon all the five villages on the one night and at the same hour, and got his man.

Another example of family affection. A little while previously to the capture of Feringhea's family, the British officer had captured Feringhea's foster-brother, leader of a gang of ten, and had tried the eleven and condemned them to be hanged. Feringhea's captured family arrived at the jail the day before the execution was to take place. The foster-brother, Jhurhoo, entreated to be allowed to see the aged mother and the others. The prayer was granted, and this is what took place—it is the British officer who speaks:

"In the morning, just before going to the scaffold, the interview took place before me. He fell at the old woman's feet and begged that she would relieve him from the obligations of the milk with which she had nourished him from infancy, as he was about to die before he could fulfill any of them. She placed her hands on his head, and he knelt, and she said she forgave him all, and bid him die like a man."

If a capable artist should make a picture of it, it would be full of dignity and solemnity and pathos; and it could touch you. You would imagine it to be anything but what it was. There is reverence there, and tenderness, and gratefulness, and compassion, and resignation, and fortitude, and self-respect—and no sense of disgrace, no thought of dishonor. Everything is there that goes to make a noble parting, and give it a moving grace and beauty and dignity. And yet one of these people is a Thug and the other a mother of Thugs! The incongruities of our human nature seem to reach their limit here.

I wish to make note of one curious thing while I think of it. One of the very commonest remarks to be found in this bewildering array of Thug confessions is this:

"Strangled him and threw him in a well!" In one case they threw sixteen into a well—and they had thrown others in the same well before. It makes a body thirsty to read about it.

And there is another very curious thing. The bands of Thugs had private graveyards. They did not like to kill and bury at random, here and there and everywhere. They preferred to wait, and toll the victims along, and get to one of their regular burying-places ('bheels') if they could. In the little kingdom of Oude, which was about half as big as Ireland and about as big as the State of Maine, they had two hundred and seventy-four 'bheels'. They were scattered along fourteen hundred miles of road, at an average of only five miles apart, and the British government traced out and located each and every one of them and set them down on the map.

The Oude bands seldom went out of their own country, but they did a thriving business within its borders. So did outside bands who came in and helped. Some of the Thug leaders of Oude were noted for their successful careers. Each of four of them confessed to above 300 murders; another to nearly 400; our friend Ramzam to 604—he is the one who got leave of absence to attend a wedding and went thugging instead; and he is also the one who betrayed Buhram to the British.

But the biggest records of all were the murder-lists of Futty Khan and Buhram. Futty Khan's number is smaller than Ramzam's, but he is placed at the head because his average is the best in Oude-Thug history per year of service. His slaughter was 508 men in twenty years, and he was still a young man when the British stopped his industry. Buhram's list was 931 murders, but it took him forty years. His average was one man and nearly all of another man per month for forty years, but Futty Khan's average was two men and a little of another man per month during his twenty years of usefulness.

There is one very striking thing which I wish to call attention to. You have surmised from the listed callings followed by the victims of the Thugs that nobody could travel the Indian roads unprotected and live to get through; that the Thugs respected no quality, no vocation, no religion, nobody; that they killed every unarmed man that came in their way. That is wholly true—with one reservation. In all the long file of Thug confessions an English traveler is mentioned but once—and this is what the Thug says of the circumstance:

"He was on his way from Mhow to Bombay. We studiously avoided him. He proceeded next morning with a number of travelers who had sought his protection, and they took the road to Baroda."

We do not know who he was; he flits across the page of this rusty old book and disappears in the obscurity beyond; but he is an impressive figure, moving through that valley of death serene and unafraid, clothed in the might of the English name.

We have now followed the big official book through, and we understand what Thuggee was, what a bloody terror it was, what a desolating scourge it was. In 1830 the English found this cancerous organization imbedded in the vitals of the empire, doing its devastating work in secrecy, and assisted, protected, sheltered, and hidden by innumerable confederates—big and little native chiefs, customs officers, village officials, and native police, all ready to lie for it, and the mass of the people, through fear, persistently pretending to know nothing about its doings; and this condition of things had existed for generations, and was formidable with the sanctions of age and old custom. If ever there was an unpromising task, if ever there was a hopeless task in the world, surely it was offered here—the task of conquering Thuggee. But that little handful of English officials in India set their sturdy and confident grip upon it, and ripped it out, root and branch! How modest do Captain Vallancey's words sound now, when we read them again, knowing what we know:

"The day that sees this far-spread evil completely eradicated from India, and known only in name, will greatly tend to immortalize British rule in the East."

It would be hard to word a claim more modestly than that for this most noble work.

Another View of Iran -- this time in 1913

2009-10-07T09:38:00.001-07:00

Extracts from: Peeps into Persia by DOROTHY DE WARZEE (Baroness d Hermalle) With 51 Illustrations from Photographs, LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED, PATERNOSTER HOUSE, E.G., 1913

After having safely landed at Piribazaar, we were packed into small Russian victorias and driven to Resht. My impression of that drive is vague. All I remember is mud the walls made of mud, the houses made of mud, and the people dressed in different shades of mud colour. I spent one short night in the hotel. I say short, for my sleeping night was made up of but a few hours.
* * *
On one occasion, a lady, leaving Resht with a large family, packed herself and some of the children into one carnage, and put the rest of the family in another with the nurse. The two carriages went on gaily all through the night, and stopped at a station to change horses about two in the morning. The nurse, waking, and counting her charges, found one was missing: a little girl of about three years had slipped off her lap, and evidently fallen out of the carriage while the nurse dozed. The alarm was given and the other carriage stopped. The frightened mother and father, followed by several Persians with lanterns, started on a search; they found the child some way back along the road, unhurt and sleeping soundly in the ditch. This story has become so well known that on going to meet a friend who arrived last year, I was amused to see her two small children tied fast to herself with long blue ribbons.
The road to Teheran is a Russian road, and is kept up by tolls, the traveller paying toll according to the number of horses he employs. When the first motor passed over the road, there arose the question as to how many horses it represented, and the delight of the people whose duty it is to collect the toll was great when they were told it was a forty horse-power. They taxed it as forty horses, and it cost the poor owner a pretty penny to reach Teheran. The time the journey takes depends a great deal on the capabilities of one's "head man"; if he is clever at getting fresh horses at each change and does not allow himself to be put off with horses that have just done the journey, the trip can be comfortably done in forty-eight hours, but it also depends on the amount one is willing to spend. A large tip quickens the Persian's movements a good deal.
* * *
There is no system of forestry, and the beautiful trees are cut down ruthlessly for the needs of the people. One constantly sees turtles in the ditches that border the road. They are, however, uneatable, and their shells are valueless, which is a pity, as they are to be found in thousands.
* * *
At Bala-Bala our coachman surpassed himself, driving down a precipitous incline at full speed, whipping his horses frantically, standing up and shouting, until we were certain something unusual, even for Persia, was happening. Leaning forward, I saw, to my horror, an old man standing with his back to us in the middle of the road, and utterly unconscious of our arrival at break-neck speed behind him. We joined in shouting to him to move out of the way, but with no result; and almost before we were aware of the possibility of such an accident, we heard the scrunch of his poor old bones as the wheels of our heavily-laden carriage went over both his legs. We got out as soon as we could arrest our downward career, and, much against our head gbolam's will, we insisted on the victim's family being sent for. We found he was deaf and dumb, and made a living as a beggar on the road. He was still alive when we picked him up, and we had him carried by the villagers (who collected around us to the number of about thirty) to a hut near the roadside. My husband asked the gbolam what he should give, and was told five tomans (about a pound in English money) was more than enough. My husband, thinking a life worth more than this gave five pounds.
We got back into the carriage with great difficulty, being hustled by the crowd, who clambered on the carriage with angry looks; and it was only by standing with a champagne bottle in one hand and a bottle of hot soup in the other, and beating their heads and hands, that we were able to free ourselves. I was thankful then that the coachman was the wild man he was; he behaved like a brick, and whipped up his horses till they tore down hill like mad things for the next half-hour. The bill for the stop at Bala-Bala was:
Persian bread . ....... One Toman
Hot water and tea . . ..Five Krans
Milk …….. Five Krans
Pilaw . . . . . . . . Two Tomans
Cream cheese . . . . . .Four Krans
One poor old man . . . Five Pounds
* * *
I had not been asleep very long, when I was awakened by the sound of a deep-toned bell, and opening my eyes, I saw great shapes passing by. It was my first sight of a caravan of camels, which always travels by night in summer to avoid the great heat of the day, as they come and go across the plains of Asia to the coast.
I have since found that the particularly melodious bell that woke me is worn by the camel that has fathered the most children in the caravan. I lay and counted the camels as they passed in the moonlight, and there were one thousand one hundred and seventy-three of them. The delay caused by these caravans is sometimes very great where the road is narrow.
* * *

The only real interest I found while furnishing my house was in choosing my carpets; they are the one thing in Persia worth spending any appreciable amount of money on. The manufacture of carpets is the oldest industry in Persia. The towns where they are made are numerous, but they are also made by the wandering tribes. It is easy to recognize, after a short study of their markings, from which town each carpet originates, as each has its own pattern; after I had seen a few hundred carpets, I could tell at a glance where one was made. The Persians themselves prefer the carpets of Kerman; their design of garlands of flowers interwoven with birds is always original and graceful. These Kerman carpets fetch the biggest prices, some of them only a yard or two square costing from forty to sixty pounds a pair. Persians always prefer to have their valuable carpets in pairs, and it is very remarkable that these pairs, which are made by different hands, should so resemble each other in design. The carpets from Tabriz are very like those from Kerman; those from Kurdistan are woven with a much softer and longer pile, with lighter colours and more gaudy designs. The carpets of Shiraz in the Fars country are distinguished from those of the rest of Persia by the fact that they are made more loosely, and are entirely of wool of a superior quality, which resembles velvet in its texture. They nearly always represent geometrical figures, usually in dark red, blue and white. Camel-hair carpets come from Yezd, as also the cotton carpets, which are almost exclusively used for the mosques. From Tabriz and Kashan Meshed, and Ispahan, come the beautiful silk carpets, which of course form the most important part of this industry. These silk carpets are pliable and soft; and though many of the new ones are crude in colour, the old ones are like early Italian fifteenth-century tapestry. The most decorative carpets, however, to my mind, are the Turcomans, and no smoking-room can be complete for anyone who has been in Persia without that deep plum-colour and white lozenge-shape pattern covering the divan or the floor.
Persian carpets are made in a very simple way, quite in keeping with the simple life of the Persian. The loom, which consists of two wooden bars between which the warp is stretched, stands always in the workman's house, at door or window, where the light is best; the workers are always women and children, who sit in a row on a bench. This bench may be lowered or heightened at will, as the carpet grows higher, for they work upwards, the part finished being rolled at the bottom. Often, seeming to tire, they will cut it off in the middle of a pattern, adding quite an irrelevant end, or putting it aside to be joined later. It is curious that they have no apparent respect for these carpets which they love; I have seen a dealer cut off the border of a carpet and sell it for a small price, the buyer not wanting to pay the price of a whole expensive carpet, and only requiring the border for a doorway.
The patterns of the usual models are learnt by heart by the worker, but the more complicated ones are reduced to scale. The very clever workers copy a pattern by sight, but there is usually a man who announces the number of stitches of each colour in a sing-song voice, as if he were reading a poem. A good worker will do a bit of about four inches broad and seventeen long in a day, so it is easy to understand that a large carpet takes years to make.
Unfortunately the Persian carpet is no longer as well made as formerly; less care is taken in choosing the workmen, and the colours are not so well combined. Orders from abroad are continually increasing, and the carpets are more hurriedly finished in consequence, the prices becoming perforce lower as the standard is lowered. Many of the carpets now made are rendered valueless by the use of aniline dyes from Germany and this in spite of all the measures taken by the Persian Government to exclude the entrance of these dyes into the country. Societies have been formed to try and fight this growing danger to Persia's finest industry, on which a great proportion of the population depends for its livelihood, but their efforts have hitherto met with little success.
* * *
When the capital was Isfahan and not Teheran, begging at one time became such a nuisance that a certain Shah issued an edict forbidding it. It was always easier to issue an edict than to have it enforced, and the Minister told his master that he was unable to accomplish what he wished: so the Shah determined to do away with the nuisance himself. Disguising himself as a rich merchant, he started out on a tour of inspection on foot round his own city, but he had scarcely reached the street before he was besieged by beggars of every description, who said they were dying of hunger. He bade them follow him to the bazaar, where he would satisfy their cravings. Entering the bazaar he ordered the gates to be closed, and soon found himself the centre of a great crowd. He had the beggars drawn up in a line in front of him and, after examining them carefully, he chose the fattest, and asked him why he did not work and earn his own living. The beggar replied that he could not find work and was dying of hunger. The Shah repeated this question to all the fattest in turn, sympathizing with them equally; then turning to the crowd, he said: "I have so kind a heart that I wish to be charitable to you, but I will not be imposed upon; I am ashamed to think that people should die of hunger in my kingdom, but I must be sure, before I help you, that you are telling me the truth. There is only one certain way to do this; I will open your stomachs and look inside." The Shah's soldiers fulfilled this order, bringing him the proof of the lie in their hands. The fate of these beggars becoming known to all those outside the bazaar, and spreading throughout the kingdom, the remaining beggars took refuge in the mountains, and during the twenty years of his reign no more beggars were found in the capital. One regrets his decease daily.
* * *

The Minister's house is like an old abbey. Above the chancery is a clock tower covered with ivy, and it is by this clock that most of the Europeans who live near enough to hear it strike set their watches. Time is a difficult problem in Teheran. At approximately midday a cannon is fired on the Cossack parade-ground, but the approximation depends entirely on the soldier who fires it. We all think he fires it when he feels hungry, as it is very erratic. Anyhow, when invited out to dinner, we always inquire of our host whether he keeps Legation or gun time. Sometimes there is half an hour's difference. Neither of these times is ordinarily correct. Correct time, not a commodity in request in Teheran, is kept by the Indo-European Telegraphs, for whom it is telegraphed from London every morning at daybreak when the line is clear, so that connection is practically instantaneous. The difference between Teheran and Greenwich is three hours and twenty-six seconds.
* * *
One of my amusements in Teheran has been to stop and watch the camels being fed, which is always done at sunset in the open plain, at the caravans near the town. It is most interesting to see the business of the camp going on at the end of the day, when the tired men and beasts come to a halt; with their packs laid round them on the plain, the camels form themselves into little circles of eight or ten, their heads turned to the middle, and sink to the ground on their knees of their own accord, the man who is to feed them standing in the centre with a huge bag of food. This food looks like sticky white dough, and is rolled into big soft balls, about the size of a croquet ball, which he holds against the palms of his outspread hands; the beast and the man press towards each other, for the man seems to have to push the ball and help the camel to get it down its throat. The circles of animals give little guttural cries of impatience and keep turning their heads, till the men come and the food is served, shuffling close round the man on their knees, and nosing him and squeezing him in their excitement. They get a surprisingly small quantity of this food in comparison with their great bulk, and after being fed are turned loose, without their packs, to graze on the scant crop of thistlelike grass which, I believe, is called camel-thorn. They seem to enjoy it; it is also dried and used by the Persians for firing.
* * *
A great difficulty in Teheran is the distribution of the letters. Persians have no family name, so that if the address on the envelope does not include the profession, origin, parentage and all sorts of details concerning the person for whom the letter is destined, the probability is that the postman will never find the owner. Then again, if the letter is addressed to a woman, how can the postman reach her? She lives in a part of the house where he is not allowed to penetrate, and the houses have no letter-boxes. As there is so much difficulty about the distribution of letters, the Post Office has about fifty letter-boxes which can be hired by the public; strangely enough, however, only two are let. Persians usually register their letters, and in addition pay an extra tax to receive a notice that the letter has been delivered.
* * *

In 1911 thirty pupils were sent to France to complete their medical studies. Although, in August 1911, the Medjliss proposed to pass a law regulating the practice of medicine, it was not passed, as it was too much against the interests of the Persian doctors already in private practice and the native chemists' shops. Therefore, anyone having no knowledge of even the rudimentary rules of medicine may become a doctor or sell drugs. A Persian chemist's object is to buy a powder cheap and sell it dear, and to dilute it so that it does not immediately kill his patient. Fortunately there are two or three European chemists in Teheran.
A Persian proverb says, "The last doctor who sees the patient before his death is responsible for it"; and though the Persian doctor who has any pretence to pride in his reputation often calls in the European doctors in consultation, he never does so till the last moment, when it is usually too late. The European doctors have, therefore, earned with reason the title of being "the doctors of the dead."
* * *

Sometimes it is possible in the spring to get up a polo team. It is great fun to watch, and at one time some of us used to take tea down to the ground and spend a pleasant hour there. Now there is hockey and football to while away the time, and in summer the very enthusiastic play cricket.
* * *
Persians always have an answer ready; they are never taken unawares, and their inventive powers, when needed to get them out of a difficulty, are very great. A foreign Minister, travelling to Teheran from Resht, stopped at one of the small stations for some food. The head of the tea-house being asked by the dragoman what he could give them to eat, replied he had very little, only two eggs and a chicken. The Minister, being informed of this, said they would eat anything they could get there and have a better meal at the next station. After a little while one egg was brought in and set upon the table. The dragoman asked where the rest of the meal was, and was told that "The chicken shows every sign of laying the second egg, and when she has done so I will bring it to you, and then I will kill her and cook her for you" a neat way out of the difficulty!

ACROSS IRAN A HUNDRED YEAR’S AGO

2009-09-02T12:20:00.000-07:00

Excerpts from: ACROSS PERSIA by E. CRAWSHAY WILLIAMS, WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS, LONDON, EDWARD ARNOLD, publisher to the India Office, 1907.

As to the circumstances of my voyage; it was made in 1903, after I had resigned my commission in the Royal Field Artillery in India. Wishing to gain experience and avoid the monotony of a long and uninteresting sea-voyage, I determined to travel home by way of the Persian Gulf, Persia itself, the Caspian Sea, Russia, and then by one of the various overland Continental routes to England.
Accordingly I interviewed my Indian servants; found two, Kishna and Kalicha by name, ready to come with me; happened by good fortune upon an Afghan, Saifullashah, employed in the State service at Simla, who was glad of a holiday in Persia and who spoke Persian fluently; and collected the various and somewhat numerous necessaries incidental to travelling in desert Eastern lands. In addition to my suite of humans there was another important member of the party, my little Scotch terrier ‘Mr. Stumps,’ who has been with me since his puppyhood at Oxford.
* * * *
Bushire has at least two inconveniences -- its climate and its harbour. The former is typical of the Gulf; that is to say, it is just tolerable in the winter and absolutely intolerable in the summer, when, as Lord Curzon remarks, 'the ordinary thermometer bursts, and those graded high enough have placed the solar radiation at 189 Fahr.' The second is also a type, inasmuch as, like almost all Persian harbours, it does not allow ships of any magnitude to come nearer than a mile or so to the actual landing-place. Consequently, after a deal of transhipment, the last portion of the journey has to be made in small native craft.
A picturesque, animated scene lay before me in the bright morning sunshine as I coasted quietly by the long, rude wharf at Bushire, off which lay scores of buggalows, loading or unloading oil, dates, shells, and other motley merchandise of the place. Past the Belgian custom-house buildings we went, and drew in to the landing-place. A busy throng bustled to and fro over the wharf: Persian soldiers in their ballet-girl-like attire; natives in their ‘handleless-saucepan’ hats; ragged Arabs washing shells, unloading canvas-covered oil-jars, or more generally sitting doing nothing; women with their long black or blue gowns draped shapelessly over their heads down to their feet, looking like so many animate bales of stuff; little ‘street’ Arabs only they are real Arabs here much like their fellows all over the world, with their devilments and mercurial movements in and out of the hurrying mob. Here, too, I saw the khaki-clad horsemen who form the body-guard of the British Resident fine, smart-looking Sikhs. It was good to hear the rough words of command again as they swung off at a canter with a clink and jostle that must always send a little thrill of pleasure through one who has himself ever clattered along to that same tune.
* * * *
But there is another side, the side of filthy alleys, of dust-heaps, of old withered hags, of the beggars, the sick and the deformed. At every corner there is some terrible sight; a man, holding up a withered stump of an arm; a deformed child; a woman whose sightless eyes peer into yours. Almost every other man and woman you meet has something amiss: a contorted face, a dead-looking open eye which glares blindly out, a sunken temple, a network of pitted scars. The East is a place of wild extremes; and disease, uncontrolled as it at present is by science, runs riot like some luxurious tropic growth.
* * * *
It is no good for anyone to go to the East if he is in a hurry. The East is a land of waiting - he will have to wait, whether he likes it or not: he cannot single-handed overthrow a nation. Two years in India had taught me something of this, and I had begun to absorb the soul-destroying influence of Oriental indifference. So I sat on the sand beneath a little shrub and patiently waited for the mules.
It was weary work. The way lay clear and straight before me; my heart longed for the road; my mind told me that every hour of delay meant another hour of marching by night in a strange land and the mules did not come.
Caravan after caravan came up out of the desert; first little moving specks of black on the brown sand, then strange creatures distorted by the quivering shimmer floating over the desert into monstrous things with bodies ten feet high, or, apparently, cut clean in half and travelling on in two sections. Approaching, receding, changing, at last they resolved themselves into solid flesh of man and beast, and came wearily up with a shouting of voices and tinkling of bells to unship the burdens from their camels or mules, and make snug for the night. And still my mules did not come. The sun swung across the heavens, the day changed from palpitating heat to drowsy cool, the dusk began to creep up from the far-off hills to the north-east and yet there were no mules.
At length, when hope deferred had made the heart entirely sick, and, played false over so many an alien caravan, I had almost ceased to speculate on the tiny far-off strings of animals, now scarcely to be seen through the falling night, up came Saif. ‘There, sir,’ said he, ‘they come.' I thought it prudent to doubt; but he was right, and, in a little, the faithless mules sauntered calmly in.
It was no use to be angry it is rarely any use anywhere, and less so than usual in the East; so we did not vainly waste time, but got to work.
My little camp sprang into astonishing life and energy.
Boxes, packages, tins of every size, lay piled in a chaotic heap; looking from the heap to the mules, and from the mules to the heap, it seemed a hopeless task to reconcile the two.
But mules were kicked towards boxes, boxes dragged to mules; by powers apparently miraculous, packages fitted themselves into the most impossible places; shapeless edifices rose on the pack-saddles; mules became actually ready, and were let loose to browse aimlessly about on the peculiarly unbrowsable wilderness; and after much struggling and swearing and shouting we were in order in a really incredibly short space of time. Saif and I were each honoured with a pony so let it be called for want of a better name; it certainly was not a mule, but that was almost all that could be said for it. As the pack-animals were now quite ready, we pushed enormous bits into our poor little steeds' reluctant mouths they seemed as if they had never had a bit between their teeth before, and never wanted it again and, after ‘padding’ a little with blankets, contrived to make the girths fit sufficiently tightly round their thin carcasses to make it at all events improbable that we should swing suddenly under them and be deposited on the desert.
* * * *
The Persian police are provided with the most elaborate tools for the thieving which they practise in addition to their more legitimate exactions on the road. Various goods are brought down the main trade routes of Persia, and they have various methods of appropriating them. Even when a consignment of some utterly unaccustomed merchandise appears, they are generally equal to the occasion; and with regard to this I was told a story eloquent of their ingenuity. A well-known English official in Persia had ordered some champagne from Europe, and on its arrival he gave a large dinner-party. All went well until the production of the newly acquired wine, which turned out to be a strange brand indeed. On removing the cork the champagne appeared to be flat to an unusual degree, and on examination it was found that, unfortunately, in place of the excellent vintage ordered, the bottles were filled with nothing more or less than dirty water. As the corks were intact and the bottles apparently whole, a miracle seemed to have taken place, until an acute observer solved the mystery. The tufangchis en route had, by means of red-hot wire, bored minute holes in the bottles, from which, with, no doubt, great gusto, they treated themselves to the luxury of breaking the laws of the Koran in a more than usually satisfactory manner. They then (or more probably on the next day) refilled the bottles from Ruknabad, the Zender Rud, or some other Persian stream whose waters, however much the Persian poets praise them, cannot be considered the equal of first-class champagne neatly stopped the wire-holes, repacked the cases, and sent them on to provide for the distinguished dinner-party the little surprise I have described. Such is an example of the resource our Persian policemen show in dealing with a novel situation.
When it is the ordinary trade of the country with which they are concerned, their methods are complete and comprehensive. Some of the merchandise which finds its way down the main mule-track in Persia consists of raw cotton and raw wool. On the road there will often pass a long string of mules, each laden with the fat, closely packed bales, from which a stray tuft protrudes to show what forms the contents. It must be with a peculiar delight that the tufangchi deals with these bales; for his method, in addition to the profit it brings, possesses ingenuity above the average and a certain amount of humour to anyone but the owner of the goods. It is obvious that if any number of tufangchis boldly cut open the bales and audaciously took away part of the contents, they would be soon found out and their professional position taken from them for even in Persia appearances have to be kept up. They therefore have to contrive so that the abstraction of the cotton or wool shall not be noticed until its arrival at its destination, when detection of any individual culprit will be impossible, and the only person to suffer will be the consignee. The procedure is therefore as follows: The guardian of the road provides himself with a long rod with a roughed end, rather like the cleaning-rod of a gun. Making a small hole in the canvas covering of the bale, he pushes this rod into the very centre thereof, and twists it round and round until it has gathered, at the rough end, a tightly wound mass of cotton or wool; he then withdraws it, and the process may be repeated ad lib. He will do this to every bale in a caravan, and as, to outward appearances, everything is exactly the same the next morning, the charvardar, or muleteer, blissfully loads them up and goes on his way rejoicing, being happily unconscious of the large hole which is growing in the middle of each of his bales, some of which, when opened, will practically consist of mere walls.
Another merchandise that the tufangchis are fond of dealing with is the cotton stuff, cloth, and so on, which goes up-country from England, India, or Russia. It would seem rather a difficult matter to steal this, as each bale of goods is packed as tightly as the stuff can be rolled and pressed, and is secured by firmly clamped iron bands. Any attempt to drag a piece out would soon show that ordinary methods of thieving must in this case be abandoned. This does not disconcert our friend the tufangchi. He is the possessor of two long, flat, iron slips, and with these he approaches to do his work.
It is the clear stillness of the Persian night. The bales are piled up in the caravanserai, or on the sandy floor of the desert. The charvardar and his men are lulled in a fat and comfortable sleep. The only noise is the shuffling of the tired mules and the occasional tinkle of a little bell. The tufangchi quietly manipulates a bale into a convenient position; then he deftly forces one of the thin iron slips through the cloth, finding a place between two separate pieces. A little further down, and again between two pieces of cloth, he pushes through the other slip, and then with a screw he clamps together the ends of this peculiar device, which looks like some variety of trouser press. Sitting on the ground, he next places his feet securely against the bale, and, seizing the slips firmly, gives a hearty pull. Out comes the contrivance, bringing with it, of course, the enclosed piece of cloth. The remaining pieces, relieved a little of their pressure, gratefully swell up, and no trace is left of the operation.
Moist sugar is a favourite article of theft, and is extracted from the canvas bags it is in in the following way: Cutting an almost imperceptible hole in the canvas, the tufangchi thrusts a pipe straight into the centre of the bag. With a little persuasion, a steady stream of sugar flows easily through the pipe, and the first intimation the charvardar has of this little job is when, after a severe climb up one of the kotals, he notices that some of his sugar-bags have settled down a little.
Lump sugar falls an easy prey; a few lumps from every bale and some pebbles to replace them, and the thing is done.
Glass ornaments, too, and beads are very much the same weight as small stones, nor will anyone notice anything wrong until the end of the journey, when, of course, the foreign element may not have had a very good effect on the condition of the original merchandise.
The specific gravity of tea and straw is practically the same, and so it happens that very frequently at its destination a tea-chest is found to contain a mixture which would produce a rather peculiar brew if put straight into a teapot. But it is obviously not the fault of anyone in particular. No one can be brought to book, and, after all, the only loser is the merchant, so what does the charvardar care? The charvardar, indeed, never cares very much; as I have said, he is only the carrier, and not the owner, of the goods, and, as a matter of fact, he is not above aiding and abetting the rather shady practices of his friend the policeman if he finds it makes life easier for him. He often manages to make such things as almonds and nuts 'come right’ in weight at the end of a journey, despite some considerable ‘wastage’ on the way. In fact, a load has been known to have unaccountably increased in weight during its journey. This, however, may be explained by the fact that wet almonds weigh more than dry ones.
The science of thieving is probably far deeper and more abstruse than anything indicated by the above few examples, but they will serve to give some idea of the incidents of commerce in Persia, and, indeed, in the East generally. Is it to be wondered at that prices are high, commerce precarious, and progress a practical impossibility? If the East is to have a commercial future, it must substitute the methods of business for those of the bazaar, and the fundamental question underlying the whole is the question of better and more upright government.
* * * *
Thus, riding until it became necessary to walk, and walking until it was pleasanter to ride, we plodded on until there became no doubt that we were approaching some very unusual natural phenomenon. This was signalized by a most unpleasant smell. It must not be imagined that an unpleasant smell is an unusual occurrence in Persia; in the civilized portions it is the rule and not the exception. But this was such a peculiar and unique smell that it was at once set down as something out of the ordinary Persian repertoire. Sulphuretted hydrogen combined with petroleum would convey some idea of its distinctive characteristic, and with feelings of mingled interest and disgust we awaited the explanation of the mystery. In a moment or two it came, when we rode up to a brilliant green stream running over slimy pink stones between crumbling yellowish-white banks. Dipping the hand into it, the water was warm. Despite the really terrible odour, we tracked the stream to its source. Some pools of hot sulphurous water bubbled out from among green slime and mud fringed with a yellow crystalline deposit. I myself could only struggle against an inclination to be ill long enough to take a photograph, but Saif seemed to revel in it, took off his clothes, bathed in the almost boiling water, and said he felt much refreshed. As I passed thankfully back again to the track down a decrescendo of smell, I noticed black lumps of bitumen bobbing down the current. Undoubtedly there is petroleum, but where no one has hitherto been able to discover.
Another stream, smelling less of sulphur but more of oil, burst from under the rocks a little further on, and it is near here that attempts have been made in the past to tap the petroleum reservoir which probably exists somewhere beneath the ground. Some day a happy man may hit the right spot, and then his fortune is made; but it is a speculative business. Half a dozen inches to the right or left, and you are, as Fate may decide, a pauper or a millionaire. Moreover, it is quite possible that the oil is inextricably mixed with the hot springs which bubble from the rock, in which case it would be at present beyond the power of man to make any profitable use of it.
By the way, it has occurred to me, as doubtless it has occurred to others before me, although I have never seen the idea set down, that the ancient religion of fire-worship which the Persian so long professed may have had some connexion with these great reservoirs of oil that exist in various parts of the Near East.
* * * *
At the beginning of this digression I left Saif and myself perspiring under a precipice near the cave of Shahpur. We plodded on, and it was not long before we at last found ourselves just beneath the cave, whence we attracted the attention of the muleteer and the Iliats mere specks below. In an hour they were with us, and we were ready to effect the last precipitous ascent to the cave itself. Though this is a steep climb of about 25 feet up the sheer face of the rock, with a little agility it is easy to scramble to the top by means of the cracks worn in the stone. Once there, the entrance of the cave gapes straight ahead. I walked up a rough slope, and there, about 50 yards down the incline which descended into the gloom of the great caverns, lay before me a huge uncouth monster, torn from off the rough stand where still remained his sandalled feet. The body of the giant Shahpur lay miserably abject, the noseless face turned upwards, the head sunk in the soft earth, its luxuriant curls buried; his body aslant; his legs a few feet higher than his head, and resting on their ancient throne. The 20-foot body was clad in a kind of tunic, crossed with two sashes, from one of which, at his left side, once hung his sword; an armless hand rested on his right hip, while above, a broken shoulder protruded horribly. The left arm was broken off above the wrist; its hand, no doubt, once rested upon the hilt of the sword.

Thus, with mutilated features and fragments of limbs, lay Shahpur the Ormuzd-worshipper, the god, Shahpur, King of Kings, Arian and non-Arian, of the race of the gods, son of the Ormuzd-worshipper, the god, Artakarsur, King of Kings.
There was an impressive pathos about this great grotesque image, once bowed down to and worshipped as a god, now lying dishonoured in its lonely cave above the ruins of a dead city. The weird solemnity was heightened by the surroundings. The image was set in the centre of the lofty sloping hall which formed the mouth of the cave; in front shone the gap of blue sky; behind, yawned the desolate gloom; all around lay the relics of a dead civilization it was a scene to see by twilight in the falling dusk, with the great King looking like a white giant against the inky depths behind, and the sky-patch fading from crimson to grey. Then it would not be hard to imagine the dead people of the strange old -world city stealing from the uncanny, musty nooks within to do reverence to Shahpur. The natives fear this place; they will not go there alone, and refuse altogether to enter the black recesses of the cave. Nor is it hard to understand their feelings, for well might this chasm with its ruined tanks, huge, damp, tomb-like halls, and long, evil-smelling passages, be the abode of ghosts, as it is of bats and strange owlish birds.
* * * *
In connexion with the subject of crime and punishment and the powers that be in Persia, there will always live in my mind a curious dramatic scene which I witnessed at Shiraz. It took place in the court-yard before the Governor's palace. The sun was just dropping behind the roofs opposite, and a little stone-banked lake, a mere patch of water under a tree before the main gate into the palace, lay sparkling in the last light of day. Close by this little pool a knot of men was gathered as I rode up. For a moment the reason was not clear. Then I caught a glimpse there on the ground of a white-sheeted thing lying upon something of a stretcher. I walked up; yes, it was a dead body wrapped in blood-stained white cloth. At its foot stood a Persian, shouting something hoarsely; his brown clothes were dabbled in red. It was a murder. That was all I could make out. Then from opposite there came a wild crying, and there rushed across the empty square a body of black-veiled women, headed by one who madly dashed on with leaps and bounds, shrieking horribly and beating her bare breasts with her hands. Down on the dead body she fell, patting it and clasping it, moaning and calling to it, then falling back to strike herself again and call vainly to the unhearing heavens.
Suddenly there came the clatter of hoofs; all fell back; it was the Governor. Cossacks, silver maces, then the unpretentious-looking man on a white pony, less remarkable in appearance than all his attendant crowd.
The scene was a moving one. It was profoundly, almost sensationally, dramatic. It seemed like some situation of the stage. Surely here, to round off the drama, there must come some act befitting the elements of life and death which here lay bare in all their crude nakedness. The atmosphere was electric with a peculiar breathless excitement which seemed to cry for some great thing to happen and relieve the pent-up forces. But, alas! Nature is not so clever as Art; the appropriate rarely happens. The threads are left hanging loosely in the plays of life where they are deftly gathered up in the plays of man. Comedy, tragedy, farce, drama, they all seem to wander on in a slovenly and unending way in this world of ours, without apt justice or a fitting end. There is no plot, no picturesque consecution, no climax. The characters come and go, unregarding art and reason alike. A super lingers on the stage after the principal has been snatched behind the scenes; the wicked triumph without even the palliation of skill to make their triumph tolerable; the stupid ‘succeed,' the clever 'fail'; there is no meaning, no moral, in it all; yet still across the stage during their short act the countless players press on aimlessly, eternally. All that most of them can do is to act their small part in the great play that has no beginning, no end, and of which they know no object, seeking not effect, not even justice, merely striving on in their unimportant places. To do the best, that is indeed all that is to be done, save, perhaps, now and then to wonder whether, after all, there may not be somewhere a Stage Manager.
So my tragedy came to no fitting end.
The Governor stopped; with a gesture he summoned one of his Court. He was angry; it was unbecoming, unpleasant, to trouble him with such unsavoury things. What business had they there? ‘What is all this?' he asked, pointing angrily to the scene before him. They told him; the husband of this woman had been robbed and shot, that was all. 'Send them away,' said he, and, turning, walked into the palace.
So the body was carried off, as also the woman, for she had fainted. Justice, however, had its way in the end, for I heard that afterwards the murderer was blown from a cannon.
* * * *
There is a curious ironic horror about the life of the poor in Persia. If you are destitute, it is as well to be also diseased. The loss of an eye, the paralysis of the limbs, the infirmities of age all these are assets from which money can be made.

'Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye my friends,’ cries the beggar in very truth, ’for the hand of God hath touched me.'

One particular visit from the poor of Persia remember very vividly. As I sat in the chapar khaneh at Surmek, the next resting-place after Khoneh Khoreh, Stumps suddenly barked. I looked up, and there, at the door, was a blind old man led by a wee creature of a few years old; a beautiful little girl. They were a strange, pathetic couple, the sightless old man and his tiny guide and guardian. The mite said nothing, but looked mutely appealing from beneath her long-lashed eyes. She was shivering, and the little red lips quivered with the cold. Inside, I had a fire, so inside they came, with a curious absence of constraint or comment. From beginning to end the child uttered not a word; but, while she warmed her icy hands before the blaze, her father conversed with me with courteous Persian readiness.
At last the girl's lips ceased to tremble, and her hands lost their numbness, and then I gave them two krans, and they went out into the sunlight - the sunlight that he had never seen.
Persia is no place for the tender-hearted, there is too much to grieve over; at least, it is too obvious. Probably there is just as much in England; but here we have a way of hiding it away where it is not seen, and most of the world goes on its path quite untroubled and untroubling. Yet, after all, perhaps it is a matter of temperament, and the tender-hearted can live neither in England nor in the East, but their lives are made sadly uneasy. Indeed, this world itself would seem no place for one whose heart is torn by the sorrows of life; to whom the beggar by the way-side, the drunkard in the gin-shop, the drab on the pavement, are matters not merely observed, but grieved over. The thick-skinned fellow has the best of it. On his tough hide the miseries of life shoot their darts harmlessly, he pursues his path serene and well assured that ‘God's in His heaven, all's right with the world.’
* * * *
‘While waiting, I inspect a beautifully tiled room used to store those presents collected by the Shah which are not in the great Museum.
‘It is a quaint assemblage of magnificent lumber. Stored in no order, priceless curiosities thrown down by the side of valueless rubbish, glorious works of art reposing under the shadow of domestic furniture, it is itself an epitome of Persia and the Persians in its strange incongruity, its pitiful disorder, its combination of departed glory and present decay.
‘In one corner is an untidy pile of velvets and ermines; close by, a collection of very inferior photographs; in the opposite corner a beer-machine, on which reposes an oil-painting.
‘A bookcase filled with volumes fronts a table covered with curiosities of natural history, which in turn looks on to a slab where lie specimens of ancient pottery. Then comes a musical-box. Typewriters lie neglected, magnificent tea-sets and services of glass have never seen a table-cloth, great vases merely contain the dust of years, a map of the British Isles, hung upside down, averts in this way its gaze from a picture, hung below, whose breadth of subject is redeemed by no beauty of execution. Violins mutely appeal for the touch of a hand which shall unseal their hidden harmonies, forlorn mandolins cry for fair fingers and sweet moonlit hours the very musical-boxes seem to pray to be taken where the babble of childish laughter shall greet their long-dumb tinkle.
‘In a room beyond, more china, more glass, unused, unwanted.
‘All is chaos, neglect, pathetic waste.
‘I leave with an ache at the heart all this rich uselessness, and, outside, the people poverty desolation.
‘Next to the museum itself in a huge glittering room are glass cases filled with a collection almost as composite as that I have just left, with at the end the Peacock Throne, --for that is its name, though in reality it is no more that relic rapt from Delhi than is the chair on which I sit to write this. Still, it is very fine, and its jewels and enamel, if they fail to excite a historic interest, at all events appeal to the imagination in other ways.
‘A stuffed bird which warbles in a cage is over against a cabinet in which are artistically hung six-penny hand-glasses, sometimes with broken handles. Originally, I am told, there were even more extraordinary dispositions of things; but I did not see Lord Curzon's tooth-brushes, though it is quite likely they were somewhere about.
‘The chief delight of the attendants was a musical-box with moving figures, which they wound up for our benefit, I think my favourites were the sixpenny looking-glasses.

GENERAL CUSTER & STORIES OF INDIAN BATTLES ON THE PLAINS

2009-08-18T12:21:00.000-07:00

Excerts from:MY LIFE ON THE PLAINS.OR,PERSONAL EXPERIENCES WITH INDIANS.BY GEN. G. A. CUSTER, U. S. A. NEW YORK:SHELDON & COMPANY, NO. 8 MURRAY STREET. 1874
When civilization made its first inroads within the borders of this continent, numerous tribes, each powerful in numbers, were found inhabiting it. Each tribe had its peculiar customs, whether of war, the chase, or religion they exhibited some close resemblances as well as widely different traits of character. That they sprang from different nations rather than from a single source seems highly probable. It is said that when the Spaniards conquered Yucatan a number of intelligent Indians declared that by traditions from their ancestors they had learned that their country had been peopled by nations coming from the east, whom God had delivered from their enemies by opening a road for them across the sea.

Few persons will deny that the existence of America was believed in if not positively known centuries before its discovery by Columbus. Even so far back as the time of Alexander the Great, a historian named Theopompus, in giving a dialogue that took place between Midas and Silenus, credits the latter with saying that Europe, Asia, and Africa were only islands, but that a vast fertile continent existed beyond the sea. This continent was peopled by a race of powerful men, and gold and silver were abundant on its surface. Hanno, eight hundred years before Christ, made a voyage along the coast of Africa, and sailed due west for thirty days. From the account which he afterward wrote of his voyage, it is probable that he saw portions of America or some of the West India islands. Reference is also made by Homer and Horace to the existence of islands at a long distance west of Europe and Africa. Diodorus speaks of an immense island many days' sail to the west of Africa; immense rivers flowed from its shores; its inhabitants resided in beautiful mansions; its soil was fruitful and highly cultivated. The description corresponds with that given of Mexico by the Spaniards who first discovered it. Aristotle makes mention of it in the following terms: "It is said that the Carthaginians have discovered beyond the Pillars of Hercules a very fertile island, but which is without inhabitants, yet full of forests, of navigable rivers, and abounding in fruit. It is situated many days' journey from the mainland." After the discovery of America Europeans were surprised to find in villages in Guatemala inhabitants wearing the Arabian masculine costume and the Jewish feminine costume. Travellers in South America have discovered Israelites among the Indians. This discovery strengthens the theory given by Garcia, a Spanish writer, that the Indians are the descendants of the tribes of Israel that were led captive into Assyria. Many of the Indian customs and religious rites closely resemble those of the Israelites. In many tribes the Indians offer the first fruits of the earth and of the chase to the Great Spirit. They have also certain ceremonies at stated periods. Their division of the year corresponds with the Jewish festivals. In some tribes the brother of a deceased husband receives the widow into his lodge as his legitimate wife. Some travellers claim to have seen circumcision practised among certain tribes. Another analogy between the Jews and the Indians is seen in their purifications, baths, anointings, fasts, manner of praying, and abstaining from certain quadrupeds, birds, and reptiles considered impure. In general Indians are only permitted to marry in their own tribe. Some tribes are said to carry with them an ark similar to the one mentioned in Holy Writ. I know that all tribes with which I have been brought in contact carry with them a mysterious something which is regarded with the utmost sacredness and veneration, and upon which the eye of no white man at least is ever permitted to rest. Then again the "medicine man" of the tribe, who is not, as his name implies, the physician, but stands in the character of high priest, assumes a dress and manner corresponding to those of the Jewish high priest. Mr. Adair, who spent forty years among the various northern tribes, and who holds to the idea that the Indian is descended from the Hebrew, asserts that he discovered an unmistakable resemblance between various Indian words and the Hebrew intended to express the same idea. He further asserts that he once heard an Indian apply the following expression to a culprit: “Tschi kaksit canaha" Thou art like unto a Canaanite sinner.
* * * *
Several years prior to the events referred to, our people had captured from the Indians two children. I believe they were survivors of the Chivington massacre at Sand Creek, Colorado. These children had been kindly cared for and were being taught to lead a civilized mode of life. Their relatives, how ever, made demands for them, and we by treaty stipulation agreed to deliver them up. One of them, a little girl, had been cared for kindly in a family living near Denver, Colorado; the other, a boy, had been carried East to the States, and it was with great difficulty that the Government was able to learn his whereabouts and obtain possession of him. He was finally discovered, however, and sent to General Hancock, to be by him delivered up to his tribe. He accompanied the expedition, and was quite a curiosity for the time being. He was dressed comfortably, in accordance with civilized custom; and, having been taken from his people at so early an age, was apparently satisfied with the life he led. The Indians who came to our camp expressed a great desire to see him, and when he was brought into their presence they exhibited no emotion such as white men under similar circumstances might be expected to show.

They evidently were not pleased to see him clothed in the white man's dress. The little fellow, then some eight or ten years of age, seemed little disposed to go back to his people. I saw him the following year in the village of his tribe; he then had lost all trace of civilization, had forgotten his knowledge of the English language, and was as shy and suspicious of the white men as any of his dusky comrades. From older persons of the tribe we learned that their first act after obtaining possession of him was to deprive him of his "store clothes," and in their stead substitute the blanket and leggings.
* * * *
Among the white scouts were numbered some of the most noted of their class. The most prominent man among them was "Wild Bill," whose highly varied career was made the subject of an illustrated sketch in one of the popular monthly periodicals a few years ago. “Wild Bill" was a strange character, just the one which a novelist might gloat over. He was a Plainsman in every sense of the word, yet unlike any other of his class. In person he was about six feet one in height, straight as the straightest of the warriors whose implacable foe he was; broad shoulders, well-formed chest and limbs, and a face strikingly handsome; a sharp, clear, blue eye, which stared you straight in the face when in conversation; a finely-shaped nose, inclined to be aquiline; a well-turned mouth, with lips only partially concealed by a handsome moustache. His hair and complexion were those of the perfect blond. The former was worn in uncut ringlets falling carelessly over his powerfully formed shoulders. Add to this figure a costume blending the immaculate neatness of the dandy with the extravagant taste and style of the frontiersman, and you have Wild Bill, then as now the most famous scout on the Plains. Whether on foot or on horseback, he was one of the most perfect types of physical manhood I ever saw. Of his courage there could be x no question; it had been brought to the test on too many occasions to admit of a doubt. His skill in the use of the rifle and pistol was unerring; while his deportment was exactly the opposite of what might be expected from a man of his surroundings. It was entirely free from all bluster or bravado. He seldom spoke of himself unless requested to do so. His conversation, strange to say, never bordered either on the vulgar or blasphemous. His influence among the frontiersmen was unbounded, his word was law; and many are the personal quarrels and disturbances which he has checked among his comrades by his simple announcement that “this has gone far enough," if need be followed by the ominous warning that when persisted in or renewed the quarreller "must settle it with me.” "Wild Bill" is anything but a quarrelsome man; yet no one but himself can enumerate the many conflicts in which he has been engaged, and which have almost invariably resulted in the death of his adversary. I have a personal knowledge of at least half a dozen men whom he has at various times killed, one of these being at the time a member of my command. others have been severely wounded, yet he always escapes unhurt. On the Plains every man openly carries his belt with its invariable appendages, knife and revolver, often two of the latter. Wild Bill always carried two handsome ivory-handled revolvers of the large size; he was never seen without them. Where this is the common custom, brawls or personal difficulties are seldom if ever settled by blows. The quarrel is not from a word to a blow, but from a word to the revolver, and he who can draw and fire first is the best man. No civil law reaches him; none is applied for. In fact there is no law recognized beyond the frontier but that of "might makes right." Should death result from the quarrel as it usually does, no coroner's jury is impanelled to learn the cause of death, and the survivor is not arrested. But instead of these old-fashioned proceedings, a meeting of citizens takes place, the survivor is requested to be present when the circumstances of the homicide are inquired into, and the unfailing verdict of "justifiable," "self-defence," etc., is pronounced, and the law stands vindicated. That justice is often deprived o a victim there is not a doubt. Yet in all of the many affairs of this kind in which Wild Bill” has performed a part, and which have come to my knowledge, there is not a single instance in which the verdict of twelve fair-minded men would not be pronounced in his favor. That the even tenor of his way continues to be disturbed by little events of this description may be inferred from an item which has been floating lately through the columns of the press, and which states that "the funeral of ‘Jim Bludso,' who was killed the other day by ‘Wild Bill,' took place to-day." It then adds: "The funeral expenses were borne by 'Wild Bill.' “What could be more thoughtful than this? Not only to send a fellow mortal out of the world, but to pay the expenses of the transit. Guerrier, the half-breed, also accompanied the expedition as guide and interpreter.
* * * *

The most prominent chiefs in council were Satanta, Lone Wolf, and Kicking Bird of the Kiowas, and Little Raven and Yellow Bear of the Arrapahoes. During the council extravagant promises of future good conduct were made by these chiefs. So effective and convincing was the oratorical effort of Satanta that at the termination of his address the department commander and staff presented him with the uniform coat, sash, and hat of a major-general. In return for this compliment Satanta, within a few weeks after, attacked the post at which the council was held, arrayed in his new uniform. This said chief had but recently headed an expedition to the frontier of Texas, where, among other murders committed by him and his band, was that known as the “Box massacre." The Box family consisted of the father, mother, and five children, the eldest a girl about eighteen, the youngest a babe. The entire family had been visiting at a neighbor's house, and were returning home in the evening, little dreaming of the terrible fate impending, when Satanta and his warriors dashed upon them, surrounded the wagon in which they were driving, and at the first fire killed the father and one of the children. The horses were hastily taken from the wagon, while the mother was informed by signs that she and her four surviving children must accompany their captors. Mounting their prisoners upon led horses, of which they had a great number stolen from the settlers, the Indians prepared to set out on their return to the village, then located hundreds of miles north. Before departing from the scene of the massacre, the savages scalped the father and child, who had fallen as their first victims. Far better would it have been had the remaining members of the family met their death in the first attack. From the mother, whom I met when released from her captivity, after living as a prisoner in the hands of the Indians for more than a year, I gathered the details of the sufferings of herself and children.

Fearing pursuit by the Texans, and desiring to place as long a distance as possible between themselves and their pursuers, they prepared for a night march. Mrs. Box and each of the three elder children were placed on separate horses and securely bound. This was to prevent escape in the darkness. The mother was at first permitted to carry the youngest child, a babe of a few months, in her arms, but the latter, becoming fretful during the tiresome night ride, began to cry. The Indians, fearing the sound of its voice might be heard by pursuers, snatched it from its mother's arms and dashed its brains out against a tree, then threw the lifeless remains to the ground and continued their flight. No halt was made for twenty-four hours, after which the march was conducted more deliberately. Each night the mother and three children were permitted to occupy one shelter, closely guarded by their watchful enemies.
* * * *
As if impelled by one thought, Comstock, the Delawares, and half-a-dozen officers, detached themselves from the column and, separating into squads of one or two, instituted a search for the cause of our horrible suspicions. After riding in all directions through the rushes and willows, and when about to relinquish the search as fruitless, one of the Delawares uttered a shout which attracted the attention of the entire command; at the same time he was seen to leap from his horse and assume a stooping posture, as if critically examining some object of interest. Hastening, in common with many others of the party, to his side, a sight met our gaze which even at this remote day makes my very blood curdle. Lying in irregular order, and within a very limited circle, were the mangled bodies of poor Kidder and his party, yet so brutally hacked and disfigured as to be beyond recognition save as human beings.

Every individual of the party had been scalped and his skull broken the latter done by some weapon, probably a tomahawk except the Sioux chief Red Bead, whose scalp had simply been removed from his head and then thrown down by his side. This, Comstock informed us, was in accordance with a custom which prohibits an Indian from bearing off the scalp of one of his own tribe. This circumstance, then, told us who the perpetrators of this deed were. They could be none other than the Sioux, led in all probability by Pawnee Killer.

Red Bead, being less disfigured and mutilated than the others, was the only individual capable of being recognized. Even the clothes of all the party had been carried away; some of the bodies were lying in beds of ashes, with partly burned fragments of wood near them, showing that the savages had put some of them to death by the terrible tortures of fire. The sinews of the arms and legs had been cut away, the nose of every man hacked oft', and the features otherwise defaced so that it would have been scarcely possible for even a relative to recognize a single one of the unfortunate victims. We could not even distinguish the officer from his men. Each body was pierced by from twenty to fifty arrows, and the arrows were found as the savage demons had left them, bristling in the bodies. While the details of that fearful struggle will probably never be known, telling how long and gallantly this ill-fated little band contended for their lives, yet the surrounding circumstances of ground, empty cartridge shells, and distance from where the attack began, satisfied us that Kidder and his men fought as only brave men fight when the watchword is victory or death.

As the officer, his men, and his no less faithful Indian guide, had shared their final dangers together and had met the same dreadful fate at the hands of the same merciless foe, it was but fitting that their remains should be consigned to one common grave. This was accordingly done. A single trench was dug near the spot where they had rendered up their lives upon the altar of duty. Silently, mournfully, their comrades of a brother regiment consigned their mangled remains to mother earth, there to rest undisturbed, as we supposed, until the great day of final review. But this was not to be so; while the closest scrutiny on our part had been insufficient to enable us to detect the slightest evidence which would aid us or others in identifying the body of Lieutenant Kidder or any of his men, it will be seen hereafter how the marks of a mother's thoughtful affection were to be the means of identifying the remains of her murdered son, even though months had elapsed after his untimely death.
* * * *
"While sitting in my quarters one day at Fort Leavenworth, late in the fall of 1867, a gentleman was announced whose name recalled a sad and harrowing eight. It proved to be the father of Lieutenant Kidder, whose massacre, with that of his entire party of eleven men, was described in preceding pages. It will be remembered that the savages had hacked, mangled, and burned the bodies of Kidder and his men to such an extent that it was impossible to recognize the body of a single one of the party; even the clothing had been removed, be that we could not distinguish the officer from his men, or the men from each other, by any fragment of their uniform or insignia of their grade. Mr. Kidder, after introducing himself, announced the object of his visit; it was to ascertain the spot where the remains of his son lay buried, and, after procuring suitable military escort to proceed to the grave and disinter his son's remains preparatory to transferring them to a resting place in Dakota, of which territory he was at that time one of the judiciary. It was a painful task I had to perform when I communicated to the father the details of the killing of his on and followers. And equally harassing to the feelings was it to have to inform him that there was no possible chance of his being able to recognize his son's remains. “Was there not the faintest mark or fragment of his uniform by which he might be known?" inquired the anxious parent. “Not one," was the reluctant reply. "And yet, since I now recall the appearance of the mangled and disfigured remains, there was a mere trifle which attracted my attention, but it could not have been your son who wore it." "What was it?" eagerly inquired the father. "It was simply the collar-band of one of those ordinary check overshirts so commonly worn on the plains, the color being black and white; the remainder of the garment, as well as all other articles of dress, having been torn or burned from the body." Mr. Kidder then requested me to repeat the description of the collar and material of which it was made; happily I had some cloth of very similar appearance, and upon exhibiting this to Mr. Kidder, to show the kind I meant, he declared that the body I referred to could be no other than that of his murdered son. He went on to tell how his son had received his appointment in the army but a few weeks before his lamentable death, he only having reported for duty with his company a few days before being sent on the scout which terminated his life; and how, before leaving his home to engage in the military service, his mother, with that thoughtful care and tenderness which only a mother can feel, prepared some articles of wearing apparel, among others a few shirts made from the checked material already described. Mr. Kidder had been to Fort Sedgwick on the Platte, from which post his son had last departed, and there learned that on leaving the post he wore one of the checked shirts and put an extra one in his saddle pockets. Upon this trifling link of evidence Mr. Kidder proceeded four hundred miles west to Fort Wallace, and there being furnished with military escort visited the grave containing the bodies of the twelve massacred men. Upon disinterring the remains a body was found as I had described it, bearing the simple checked collar-band; the father recognized the remains of his son, and thus, as was stilted at the close of a preceding chapter, was the evidence of a mother's love made the means by which her son's body was recognized and reclaimed, when all other had failed.
* * * *
There was but one thing to do. Realizing that they had fallen into a trap, Forsyth, who had faced danger too often to hesitate in an emergency, determined that if it came to a Fort Fetterman affair, described in a preceding chapter, he should at least make the enemy bear their share of the loss. He ordered his men to lead their horses to the island, tie them to the few bushes that were growing there in a circle, throw themselves upon the ground in the same form, and make the best fight they could for their lives. In less time than it takes to pen these words, the order was put into execution. Three of the best shots in the party took position in the grass under the bank of the river which covered the north end of the island; the others formed a circle inside of the line of animals, and throwing themselves upon the ground began to reply to the fire of the Indians, which soon became hot and galling in the extreme. Throwing themselves from their horses, the Indians crawled up to within a short distance of the island, and opened a steady and well-directed fire upon the party. Armed with the best quality of guns, many of them having the latest pattern breech-loaders with fixed ammunition (as proof of this many thousand empty shells of Spencer and Henry rifle ammunition were found on the ground occupied by the Indians after the fight), they soon made sad havoc among the men and horses. As it grew lighter, and the Indians could be distinguished, Grover expressed the greatest astonishment at the number of warriors, which he placed at nearly one thousand. other members of the party estimated them at even a greater number. Forsyth expressed the opinion that there could not be more than four or five hundred, but in this it seems he was mistaken, as some of the Brules, Sioux, and Cheyennes have since told him that their war party was nearly nine hundred strong, and was composed of Brules, Sioux, Cheyennes, and Dog Soldiers; furthermore, that they had been watching him for five days previous to their attack, and had called in all the warriors they could get to their assistance. The men of Forsyth's party began covering themselves at once, by using case and pocket knives in the gravelly sand, and Boon had thrown up quite a little earthwork consisting of detached mounds in the form of a circle. About this time Forsyth was wounded by a “Minie" ball, which, striking him in the right thigh, ranged upward, inflicting an exceedingly painful wound. Two of his men had been killed, and a number of others wounded. Leaning over to give directions to some of his men, who were firing too rapidly, and in fact becoming a little too nervous for their own good, Forsyth was again wounded, this time in the left leg, the ball breaking and badly shattering the bone midway between the knee and ankle. About the same time Dr. Movers, the surgeon of the party, who, owing to the hot fire of the Indians, was unable to render surgical aid to his wounded comrades, had seized his trusty rifle and was doing capital service, was hit in the temple by a bullet, and never spoke but one intelligible word again.
* * * *
Shortly after nine o'clock a portion of the Indians began to form in a ravine just below the foot of the island, and soon about one hundred and twenty Dog Soldiers, the “banditti of the Plains," supported by some three hundred or more other mounted men, made their appearance, drawn up just beyond rifle shot below the island, and headed by the famous chief Roman Nose," prepared to charge the scouts. Superbly mounted, almost naked, although in full war dress, and painted in the most hideous manner, with their rifles in their hands, and formed with a front of about sixty men, they awaited the signal of their chief to charge, with apparently the greatest confidence. Roman Nose addressed a few words to the mounted warriors, and almost immediately afterward the dismounted Indians surrounding the island poured a perfect shower of bullets into the midst of Forsyth's little party. Realizing that a crisis was at hand, and hot work was before him, Forsyth told his men to reload every rifle and to take and load the rifles of the killed and wounded of the party, and not to fire a shot until ordered to do so.
* * * *
…Roman Nose and his band of mounted warriors, with a wild, ringing war-whoop, echoed by the women and children on the hills, started forward. On they came, presenting even to the brave men awaiting the charge a most superb sight. Brandishing their guns, echoing back the cries of encouragement of their women and children on the surrounding hills, and confident of victory, they rode bravely and recklessly to the assault. Soon they were within the range of the rifles of their friends, and of course the dismounted Indians had to slacken their fire for fear of hitting their own warriors. This was the opportunity for the scouts, and they were not slow to seize it. "Now," shouted Forsyth. "Now," echoed Beecher, McCall, and Grover; and the scouts, springing to their knees, and casting their eyes coolly along the barrels of their rifles, opened on the advancing savages as deadly a fire as the same number of men ever yet sent forth from an equal number of rifles. Unchecked, undaunted, on dashed the warriors; steadily rang the clear, sharp reports of the rifles of the frontiersmen. Roman Nose, the chief, is seen to fall dead from his horse, then Medicine Man is killed, and for an instant the column of braves, now within ten feet of the scouts, hesitates falters. A ringing cheer from the scouts, who perceive the effect of their well-directed fire, and the Indians begin to break and scatter in every direction, unwilling to rush to a hand-to-hand struggle with the men who, although outnumbered, yet knew how to make such effective use of their rifles. A few more shots from the frontiersmen and the Indians are forced back beyond range, and their first attack ends in defeat. Forsyth turns to Grover anxiously and inquires, "Can they do better than that, Grover?" "I have been on the Plains, General, since a boy, and never saw such a charge as that before. I think they have done their level best," was the reply. "All right," responds “Sandy"; "then we are good for them."
* * * *
At dark they ceased firing, and withdrew their forces for the night. This gave the little garrison on the island an opportunity to take a breathing spell, and Forsyth to review the situation and sum up how he had fared. The result was not consoling. His trusted Lieutenant Beecher was lying dead by his side; his surgeon, Movers, was mortally wounded; two of his men killed, four mortally wounded, four severely, and ten slightly. Here, out of a total of fifty-one, were twenty-three killed and wounded. His own condition, his right thigh fearfully lacerated, and his left leg badly broken, only rendered the other discouraging circumstances doubly so. As before stated, the Indians had killed all of his horses early in the fight. His supplies were exhausted, and there was no way of dressing the wounds of himself or comrades, as the medical stores had been captured by the Indians. He was about one hundred and ten miles from the nearest post, and savages we're all around him. The outlook could scarcely have been less cheering. But Forsyth's disposition and pluck incline him to speculate more upon that which is, or may be gained, than to repine at that which is irrevocably lost. This predominant trait in his character now came in good play. In stead of wasting time in vain regrets over the advantages gained by his enemies, he quietly set about looking up the chances in his favor. And, let the subject be what it may, I will match “Sandy” against an equal number” for making a favorable showing of the side which he espouses or advocates. To his credit account he congratulated himself and comrades, first upon the fact that they had beaten off their foes; second, water could be had inside their intrenchments by digging a few feet below the surface; then for food “horse and mule meat," to use Sandy's expression, "was lying around loose in any quantity;” and last, but most important of all, he had plenty of ammunition. Upon these circumstances and facts Forsyth built high hopes of successfully contending against any renewed assaults of the savages.
* * * *
ON DELAWARE CREEK, REPUBLICAN RIVER, Sept. 19, 1858.
To Colonel Bankhead, or Commanding Officer, Fort Wallace.

I sent you two messengers on the night of the 17th instant, informing you of my critical condition. I tried to send two more last night, but they did not succeed in passing the Indian pickets, and returned. If the others have not arrived, then hasten at once to my assistance. I have eight badly wounded and ten slightly wounded men to take in, and every animal I had was killed save seven which the Indians stampeded. Lieutenant Beecher is dead, and Acting Assistant Surgeon Movers probably cannot live the night out. He was hit in the head Thursday, and has spoken but one rational word since. I am wounded in two places, in the right thigh and my left leg broken below the knee. The Cheyennes numbered 450 or more. Mr. Grorer says they never fought so before. They were splendidly armed with Spencer and Henry rifles. We killed at least thirty-five of them and wounded many more, besides killing and wounding a quantity of their stock. They carried off most of their killed during the night, but three of their men fell into our hands. I am on a little island and have still plenty of ammunition left. We are living on mule and horse meat, and are entirely out of rations. If it was not for so many wounded, I would come in and take the chances of whipping them if attacked. They are evidently sick of their bargain.

I had two of the members of my company killed on the 17th, namely, William Wilson and George W. Gainer. You had better start with not less than seventy-five men and bring all the wagons and ambulances you can spare. Bring a six-pound howitzer with you. I can hold out here for six days longer, if absolutely necessary, but please lose no time.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
(Signed) GEORGE A. FORSYTH,

U. S. Army, Commanding Co. Scouts

P. S. My surgeon having been mortally wounded, none of my wounded have had their wounds dressed yet, so please bring out a surgeon with you.
* * * *
When Colonel Carpenter and his men reached the island they found its defenders in a most pitiable condition, yet the survivors were determined to be plucky to the last. Forsyth himself, with rather indifferent success, affected to be reading an old novel that he had discovered in a saddlebag; but Colonel Carpenter said his voice was a little unsteady and his eyes somewhat dim when he held out his hand to Carpenter and bade him welcome to "Beecher's Island," a name that has since been given to the battle-ground.

During the fight Forsyth counted thirty-two dead Indians within rifle range of the island. Twelve Indian bodies were subsequently discovered in one pit, and five in another. The Indians themselves confessed to a loss of seventy-five killed in action, and when their proclivity for concealing or diminishing the number of their slain in battle is considered, we can readily believe that their actual loss in this fight must have been much greater than they would have us believe.

Of the scouts, Lieutenant Beecher, Surgeon Movers, and six of the men were either killed outright or died of their wounds; eight more were disabled for life; of the remaining twelve who were wounded, nearly all recovered completely. During the fight innumerable interesting incidents occurred, some laughable and some serious. On the first day of the conflict a number of young Indian boys from fifteen to eighteen years of age crawled up and shot about fifty arrows into the circle in which the scouts lay. One of these arrows struck one of the men, Frank Herrington, full in the forehead. Not being able to pull it out, one of his companions, lying in the same hole with him, cut off the arrow with his knife, leaving the iron arrowhead sticking in his frontal bone; in a moment a bullet struck him in the side of the head, glanced across his forehead, impinged upon the arrowhead, and the two fastened together fell to the ground a queer but successful piece of amateur surgery. Herrington wrapped a cloth around his head, which bled profusely, and continued fighting as if nothing had happened.

Howard Morton, another of the scouts, was struck in the head by a bullet which finally lodged in the rear of one of his eyes, completely destroying its eight forever; but Morton never faltered, but fought bravely until the savages finally withdrew. Hudson Farley, a young stripling of only eighteen, whose father was mortally wounded in the first day's fight, was shot through the shoulder, yet never mentioned the fact until dark, when the list of wounded was called for. McCall, the First Sergeant, Vilott, Clark, Farley the elder, and others who were wounded, continued to bear their full share of the fight, notwithstanding their great sufferings, until the Indians finally gave up and withdrew. These incidents, of which many similar ones might be told, only go to show the remarkable character of the men who composed Forsyth's party.

A LADY'S WARTIME LIFE ON THE SUDANESE COAST IN 1883

2009-07-29T14:01:00.000-07:00

Excerpts from: Three months in the Soudan, by Ernestine Isabella Sartorius. London: Kegan Paul, Trench & Co., 1885.

AS the cholera epidemic had passed away in Egypt, and it was considered quite safe to return there, my step-daughter and myself took passages by the British India line of steamers, and on the 14th of November, 1883, started from the Royal Albert Docks, in the Eldorado. I must say, she was not a good specimen of the line, for she was very dirty, and the food was very badly cooked.
* * *
Before leaving the island we heard the great and unfortunate news of the defeat of General Hicks's army in the Soudan, and the total massacre of his troops. This news much excited us, for we thought it might have some effect on my husband's future movements.
* * *
Before quite leaving off all notice of the great salt-water Canal, I could not help thinking what a splendid instance this was of the late Khedive's power of will, and how lucky it was for the world he had this will, for without him the Canal could not have been made. It is as well not to look too closely at the history of its construction, nor the lives lost over it, amounting to hundreds of thousands. The Bulgarian atrocities did not cause more misery. The poor wretched gangs of fellahs starved and driven by the Koorbash to work to their last gasp, present an awful picture of misery that is almost too painful to think about in spite of the great results obtained. His magnificent extravagance is well exemplified in the small palace he built for the Empress Eugénie, and which has never been occupied since. Here, too, an instance of thorough Oriental arbitrariness occurred. The Empress, while thanking the Khedive for the magnificent reception he had given her, happened to say that the only thing she had not seen was an Arab marriage. "Indeed," said the Khedive, "this shall soon be remedied." So he sent for his A.D.C., gave him one of his Circassian slaves from the harem, presented him with a large dowry, and told the astonished official that everything was to be ready in two days. Accordingly, on the second day there was a grand marriage à l' Arabi. The Empress was greatly pleased, and the A.D.C., a man far more European than Egyptian, and who spoke several European languages, splendidly found himself indissolubly attached to a Mahomedan wife, while all along it had been the dream of his life to marry a European lady, one educated like himself, and with whom he could associate. But he knew he dared not refuse, and so an accident settled his whole future life.
* * *
We, my step-daughter and myself, went to see the vice-queen, who lives in the Palace of Ismailia. The entrance to her apartment is the one on the left of that going into the Khedive's. As usual in all Mussulman buildings, there are no openings from or to the outside except those absolutely necessary, and however nice the inside may be, nothing of it can be seen by outsiders. The vice-queen's residence is no exception to this rule, for the Khedive is, above all things, a most strict Mussulman. From the outer entrance the carriage goes on about fifty yards, and then turns to the right through an archway, into first an outer and then an inner courtyard. In both these eunuchs are posted at every door. My husband left me when the carriage entered the archway mentioned above. We entered the harem by a double flight of splendid steps meeting in the centre, about fifteen feet above the level of the ground, and then on through a fine hall into the reception-room, to which we were conducted by some white women servants, who were all dressed very plainly, but in bright colours, green and red predominating. The vice-queen herself was seated on a sofa towards the far end of the room, ready to receive her guests. She is very stout, but at the same time very pretty; has fair hair and skin, with dark eyes and eyebrows. Her hands are particularly small and white, and she looks very aristocratic. She wears on her fingers some very handsome rings. Her hair is arranged according to the present fashion on the top of the head, with a few curls on her forehead. She was dressed in a very striking purple velvet brocade with long train, the whole trimmed with exquisite lace. Her manner was most engaging, quiet, ladylike, and pleasant. When we came in, she rose, shook hands, and asked us to sit down on a sofa near her. She speaks Arabic, Turkish, and French, and is very fond of seeing foreign ladies if they can talk French with her. She began to talk about matters in general, concerning which she seemed to be well informed.
* * *
On July 31 mention is made of Mr. O'Donovan, the celebrated correspondent of the Daily News, having arrived at Khartoum. Also of Mr. Power, of the Pictorial World.
August 15 he writes about the difficulties they are under as regards the carriage of water; it is well worth perusal. As to the reinforcements he speaks of, it is quite true that they were the most miserable, weakly set of men. They were brought down from Upper Egypt in chains, and encamped at the barage of the Nile, about thirty miles below Cairo, and there remained till after the cholera was over.
"The force will most likely march into Kordofan the beginning of September, but the route has not been decided as yet, or if it has, it is kept secret. The great scarcity of water throughout Kordofan makes the marching of an army through the country a matter of great difficulty. During the rainy season water at some places collects in the hollows of the ground, but the rains are not like the monsoon of India. A heavy downpour once a week, and lasting for about two hours, is about what takes place, but this year there has been but little rain, and even where it usually collects in pools there is scarcely any water. The soil is sandy, and there is no underlying impervious strata, so the rain is absorbed, and water not to be obtained even by digging wells. So the force will have to trust to known watering places where there are wells. But these wells are very few in number, three or four, generally 30 to 40 metres deep (say 90 to 120 feet), and on the approach of an enemy the Arabs always fill them in. Anyhow, if they were left unfilled, the difficulties would be great, as the following calculation will show. As water has to be carried on several marches, it is necessary to take a large number of transport animals, say 6,000 animals to 6,000 men, counting all. Each horse, bullock, or mule drinks a gallon and a half of water at a time, and takes three minutes to do so. To water 6,000 animals twice a day, 18,000 gallons of water are required. To water 5,000 camels once a day, and 1,000 horses and mules twice a day, 7,500 + 3,000 = 10,500 gallons. Add for 6,000 men, at one gallon each, 6,000 gallons: total 16,500 gallons daily. Say each skin draws up 1 gallon, the well 30 metres deep, one minute to let down and draw up, five skins working at a time, 5 gallons would be brought up every minute, 15 gallons in three minutes (time taken by animals to drink). Ten animals could therefore be watered at a time, or 200 in an hour, and 4,800 in twenty-four hours. One well, 30 metres deep, with five skins working, each lifting 1 gallon, taking one minute to let down and haul up, will furnish 300 gallons an hour, or 7.200 gallons in the twenty-four hours. So it would take two days and eight hours to give the force one day's supply of water. Three wells working twenty-four hours would, allowing for waste, supply the force. Nine wells working eight hours would do the same, each, be it remembered, having five buckets always at work, and no wells running dry, which incident generally occurs. The wells are so narrow that it is doubtful if five buckets could work at once. We have no chain or other pumps, and if we had the wells would be too narrow to work them in, if not too deep. So, you see, the water supply is a hard nut to crack. It can only be met by taking the force up by degrees in small parties. Thus, with the quality of troops we have, it is dangerous. The Arabs are bold and brave. However, we fully calculate upon success. A very obstructive old gentleman, Suleiman Pasha, the Egyptian general, has been removed; and Aladdin Pasha, the governor-general, will accompany the army as nominal commander-in-chief, General Hicks's orders and disposition being obeyed and carried out under instructions received from the Khedive to that effect. The reinforcements which arrived from Cairo were inspected to-day by the general. We are thankful that they will remain in garrison, for they are a miserable-looking lot of men, mostly old and bent double. General Sir Evelyn Wood, when he inspected them before their departure, removed a number from the ranks. They are no doubt perfectly wretched: they have been seized in their villages, and sent off to what they look upon as transportation for life. No one but a Pasha ever returns from the Soudan; he does so with his pockets well lined, and unfortunately there are many Pashas."
* * *
The much-looked-for spy has come in from Sinkat. He had got his letter doubled up inside a leather amulet, of which these people have always two or three on their arms, containing usually a verse of the Koran. I at once took possession of it, and keep it as a great curiosity. He says that when approaching Sinkat at night he had to hide for several hours behind a big stone, while just on the other side of it, and within four or five paces, were a circle of the enemy, whose conversation was by no means reassuring, as they declared their intention of chaining and then cutting the throat of anybody who was coming to help the beleaguered garrison. He dared not move for a long time, but at last, creeping away, keeping the stone between them, he took refuge some distance off in a small cave. There he lay until the next night, when, making a wide circuit, he managed to pierce the enemy's lines on the other side. Early in the morning, approaching the fort, he called out "Tewfik, Tewfik!" Tewfik Bey happened to be close by, and ordered him to be allowed in. On his return, he was actually caught. By good luck, Tewfik Bey's letter was not found, but, suspicion being strong, he was tied up and got a severe beating. He no doubt had a narrow shave, but, luckily for him, some of his relations were amongst the rebels, and at night they secretly untied him and let him go. Such was the cause of his long delay, and in proof he showed the very visible marks of his beating. But whatever risk he ran, the twenty dollars he got seemed fully to make it up, as far as he himself was concerned.
* * *
THE Ranger came in on the 5th of February at 3 p.m., bringing the news of the defeat of General Baker's army. We had had lunch, our mess having been reduced to Colonel Harington, who was commanding the garrison, Mr. Brewster, my step-daughter, and myself, and had ensconced ourselves in long chairs for a doze, when Lieutenant Philips from the Euryalus came in, saying that the Ranger had arrived from Trinkitat, and that the admiral wished to see Colonel Harington; but he would tell us nothing else. Colonel Harington accordingly went off, and we were left in great suspense, though we did not expect any bad news. We then went on to the balcony, and were watching for about half an hour, when we saw Captain Goodall coming up in one of the ship's boats. As he neared our landing-place, he called out, "Mrs. Sartorius, your husband is safe!" and then I began to think there must have been some severe fighting; but when he had landed and taken me into the drawing-room, telling me he had something very important to tell me that for the present no one else must know, I felt there had been some disaster, and so it proved. He then explained General Baker's defeat; how the Egyptian soldiers had become demoralized, and had even laid down their arms and allowed themselves to be butchered by the rebels. I could not help feeling what a sad termination it was to all our hopes, for though we had great doubts as to the Egyptians really fighting, still we did not expect such a complete defeat. In continuation, Captain Goodall showed me the names of those who had fallen, amongst others poor Colonel Morice Bey, little Abdul Russak, Captain Walker, and Dr. Leslie. It was exceedingly sad, for it seemed like losing relations, we had been so intimate with them.
About 5 p.m. my husband arrived, and I was very glad to see him safe and sound, and to hear that General Baker and Colonel Burnaby were equally so. By-the-by, they say about Colonel Burnaby and General Baker that one is as plucky and cool as the other; and everybody knows what a compliment it is to be thus compared to General Baker. I hear that if the rebels had followed them up, hardly a man would have escaped. General Baker also returned about 6 p.m. with the rest, as he feared an immediate attack on Suakim, and therefore wanted to mass his troops here. It was a most painful sight to see these wretched men land, all in a fearful plight, many of them only half clothed, having thrown away their things to run all the faster from the enemy. Horses without any owners passed our house, some wounded, others tired out. One poor horse had a spear-wound through its nose. Instead of going on to camp, it wandered into our farmyard, where we gave it water and food, and had its nose washed; but in spite of our care the poor brute died the next day. By the time the men had landed the news had reached the camp, and crowds of Soudanese women rushed down to meet their husbands. It was really most painful to see the emotion of these poor creatures. On finding that their belongings were not amongst the survivors, they screamed and yelled, threw up their arms, and got so excited that I began to cry in sympathy with them. One woman sat down in the road, and was with difficulty raised and taken into camp by her people. I hope never to see such a sight again; once in one's life is quite enough.

Letter from John Adams to Abigail Adams, 3 July 1776, "Had a Declaration..."

2009-07-04T06:44:00.000-07:00

Letter from John Adams to Abigail Adams, 3 July 1776, "Had a Declaration..." [electronic edition]. Adams Family Papers: An Electronic Archive. Massachusetts Historical Society. http://www.masshist.org/digitaladams/

Philadelphia July 3d. 1776

Had a Declaration of Independency been made seven Months ago, it would have been attended with many great and glorious Effects . . . . We might before this Hour, have formed Alliances with foreign States. -- We should have mastered Quebec and been in Possession of Canada .... You will perhaps wonder, how such a Declaration would have influenced our Affairs, in Canada, but if I could write with Freedom I could easily convince you, that it would, and explain to you the manner how. -- Many Gentlemen in high Stations and of great Influence have been duped, by the ministerial Bubble of Commissioners to treat .... And in real, sincere Expectation of this effort Event, which they so fondly wished, they have been slow and languid, in promoting Measures for the Reduction of that Province. Others there are in the Colonies who really wished that our Enterprise in Canada would be defeated, that the Colonies might be brought into Danger and Distress between two Fires, and be thus induced to submit. Others really wished to defeat the Expedition to Canada, lest the Conquest of it, should elevate the Minds of the People too much to hearken to those Terms of Reconciliation which they believed would be offered Us. These jarring Views, Wishes and Designs, occasioned an opposition to many salutary Measures, which were proposed for the Support of that Expedition, and caused Obstructions, Embarrassments and studied Delays, which have finally, lost Us the Province.

All these Causes however in Conjunction would not have disappointed Us, if it had not been for a Misfortune, which could not be foreseen, and perhaps could not have been prevented, I mean the Prevalence of the small Pox among our Troops .... This fatal Pestilence compleated our Destruction. -- It is a Frown of Providence upon Us, which We ought to lay to heart.

But on the other Hand, the Delay of this Declaration to this Time, has many great Advantages attending it. -- The Hopes of Reconciliation, which were fondly entertained by Multitudes of honest and well meaning tho weak and mistaken People, have been gradually and at last totally extinguished. -- Time has been given for the whole People, maturely to consider the great Question of Independence and to ripen their judgments, dissipate their Fears, and allure their Hopes, by discussing it in News Papers and Pamphletts, by debating it, in Assemblies, Conventions, Committees of Safety and Inspection, in Town and County Meetings, as well as in private Conversations, so that the whole People in every Colony of the 13, have now adopted it, as their own Act. -- This will cement the Union, and avoid those Heats and perhaps Convulsions which might have been occasioned, by such a Declaration Six Months ago.

But the Day is past. The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America.e

I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.

You will think me transported with Enthusiasm but I am not. -- I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost Us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. -- Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the End is more than worth all the Means. And that Posterity will tryumph in that Days Transaction, even altho We should rue it, which I trust in God We shall not.