It is well that every man should be in a state of moral union with others; he must have one or more men to whom he can communicate the inmost feelings of his being, heart, and the reasons of his conduct; there should be nothing in him which is not known to some one else. That is the true meaning of the divine saying, “It is not good that man should be alone.”—Schleiermacher.
Greek architecture seems to have emerged from a state of archaic simplicity in the sixth century before the Christian era. All its finest creations were between that date and the death of Alexander the Great in 333 B. C.
In the days of their greatest refinement the Greeks sought rather to adorn their country than their homes. If there were palatial residences, they were more perishable, and have decayed or been destroyed, leaving few remains to tell of their former grandeur. We know their architecture almost exclusively from the ruins of their public buildings, and mostly from temples and mausoleums. The Greek temple was peculiar, and made little or no provision for a congregation of worshipers. The design was largely for external effect. A comparatively small room or cell received the image of the divinity, and another room behind it seems to have served as a treasury for votive offerings. But there were no surrounding chambers, halls or court yards. The temple, though within some precinct, was accessible to all, and, being open to the sun and air, invited the admiration of the passer-by. Its most telling features and best sculpture were on the exterior. The columns and the superstructure which rested on them must have played a very important part in their temple architecture.
There were in Greece three distinct manners, differing mostly in the manner in which the column was treated. These are called “orders;” and are named Doric, Ionic and Corinthian. Each of these presents a different series of proportions, mouldings and ornamentations in the column used, though the main form of the structure is the same in all. The column and its entablature being the most prominent features of the building, have come to be regarded as the index or characteristic, from an inspection of which the order can be recognized, just as a botanist recognizes plants by their flowers.
From a study of the column all the principal characteristics of the different orders are ascertained. The column belonging to any order is, of course, always accompanied by the use throughout the building of the appropriate proportions, mouldings and ornaments belonging to that order.
The Doric temple at Corinth is attributed to the seventh century B. C. This was a massive structure, with short, stumpy columns, and strong mouldings, but presenting the main features of the Doric style in its earliest, rudest form. The most complete Greek Doric temple was the Parthenon—the work of the architect Ictinus. It is selected for our purpose of illustration, because on many accounts the best, and many of our readers have seen the plate representing it. The Parthenon stood on the summit of a lofty rock, within an irregularly shaped enclosure, entered through a noble gateway. The temple itself was of perfectly regular plan, and stood quite free from all dependencies of any sort. It consisted of the cella, or sacred cell, in which stood the statue of the goddess, and behind it the treasury chamber. In both these there were symmetrical columns. A series of columns surrounded the building, and at either end was a portico eight columns wide and two deep. There were two pediments of flat pitch, one at each end. The whole rested on a basement of steps. The building, exclusive of the steps, was 228 feet long by 101 feet wide, and 64 feet high. The columns were 34 feet 3 inches high, and more than 6 feet in diameter at the base. The marble of which this temple was constructed was of the most solid and durable kind, and the workmanship in all the parts that remain shows great skill and care in the execution. The roof was probably of timbers covered with marble tiles; but all traces of the frame work have entirely disappeared, and hence the mode of construction is not known. Nor do authorities agree as to what provision was made for the admission of light. It seems probable that something like the clere-story of a Gothic church was used to light the Parthenon.
This wonderful structure was Doric, and the leading proportions were as follows: The column was 5.56 diameters high. The whole height, including the stylobate or steps, might be divided into nine parts, of which two go to the stylobate, six to the column, and one to the entablature.
The Greek Doric order is without a base; the shaft of the column springs from the top step, and is tapering, not in a straight line, but with a subtle curve, known technically as the entasis of the column. This shaft is channeled usually with twenty shallow channels, the ridges separating one from another being very fine lines.
The Parthenon, like many, if not all Greek buildings, was profusely decorated with colored ornaments, of which nearly every trace has now disappeared, but which must have contributed largely to the beauty of the building as a whole, and must have emphasized and set off its parts.
The most famous Greek building in the Ionic style was the temple of Diana, at Ephesus. This magnificent temple was almost totally destroyed, and the very site was, for centuries, unknown, till the energy and sagacity of an English architect enabled him to discover and dig out the vestiges of the building. Fortunately sufficient traces of the foundation remained to render it possible to make out the plan of the temple completely. From the fragments he was able to restore on paper the general appearance of the famous temple, which must be very nearly, if not absolutely correct. The walls of this temple were entirely surrounded by a double series of columns with a pediment at each end. The whole was of marble and based on a spacious platform of steps.
The Corinthian order, the last to make its appearance, was almost as much Roman as Greek. It resembles the Ionic, but the capitals are different, the columns more slender, and the enrichments more florid.
The plan or floor disposition of a Greek building, always simple, was well arranged for effect, and capable of being understood at once. All confusion, uncertainty or complications were scrupulously avoided. Refined precision, order, symmetry and exactness mark the plan as well as every part of the work.
The construction of the walls of Greek temples rivaled that of the Egyptians in accuracy and beauty of workmanship; though the wall was evidently not the principal thing for effect with the Greek architect, as much of it was overshadowed by lines of columns, which form the main feature of the building.
The Corinthian order is the natural sequel to the Ionic. Had Greek architecture continued till it fell into decadence, this order would have been its badge. As it was, the decadence of Greek art was Roman art, and the Corinthian order was the favorite order of the Romans.
The Etruscans, at an early day, inhabited the west coast of Italy, between the rivers Arno and Tiber. At the time of the founding of Rome as a city, they were a civilized people and showed considerable architectural skill, and their arts had a very great influence on Roman art. The remains of several Etruscan towns show that their masonry was of what has been called a Cyclopean character—that is, the stones were of an enormous size. The massive blocks being fitted together with consummate accuracy, much of the masonry endures to the present day. The temples, palaces and dwelling houses which made up the cities so fortified, have all disappeared, and the only structural remains of Etruscan art are tombs—some cut in live rock, and some detached structures. These built of heavy stones and arched securely, still exist as monuments of the science and skill of those early builders. They were acquainted with and extensively used the true radiating arch, composed of wedge-shaped stones. From them the Romans learned to construct arches, and combined the arch with the trabeated or lintel mode which they copied from the Greeks. Hence arose a style distinctively Roman.
The largest Etruscan temple of which any record remains was that of Jupiter Capitolinus, at Rome, one of the most splendid temples of antiquity.
The last of the classical styles of antiquity is the Roman. This seems rather an amalgamation of several other styles than an original, independent creation. It was formed slowly, and is harmonious, though uniting elements widely dissimilar.
The Grecian artist was imaginative and idealistic in the highest degree. He seemed to have an innate genius for art and beauty, and was eager to perpetuate in marble his brightest conceptions of excellence. The stern, practical Roman, realistic in every pore, eager for conquest, was dominated by the idea of bringing all nations under his sway, and of making his city the capital of the world. At first he looked with disdain on the fine arts, in all their forms, and regarded a love for the beautiful, whether in literature or art, as an evidence of effeminacy.
For nearly five hundred years there was very little architectural taste displayed in the buildings at Rome. All public works, as the Appian Way, bridges and aqueducts bore the utilitarian stamp. Their best buildings were of brick or the local stone, and there is little evidence that architecture was studied as a fine art until about 150 B. C.
After the fall of Carthage, and the destruction of Corinth, when Greece became a Roman province—both which events occurred in the year 146 B. C.—Rome became desirous of emulating the older civilization which she had destroyed. She had, by her conquests, immense wealth, and expended much, both privately and publicly, in erecting monuments, many of which, more or less altered, remain to the present day.
The first marble temple in Rome was built by the consul Q. Metellus Macedonicus, who died 115 B. C. From that period Roman architecture showed a wonderful diversity in the objects to which it was applied. Not only tombs, temples, and palaces, but baths, theaters, and amphitheaters, basilicas, aqueducts and triumphal arches were planned and built as elaborately as the temples of the gods.
Under the emperors the architectural display reached its full magnificence. The boast of Augustus, that he found Rome of brick, and left her of marble, expresses in a few words the great feature of his reign, and of that of several of the succeeding emperors.
Though the most destructive of all agencies—hostile invasions, conflagrations, and long ages of neglect—have done their utmost to destroy all vestiges of Imperial Rome, there still remain relics enough to make the city of the Cæsars, after Athens, the richest store of classical architectural antiquities in the world.
The temples in Rome were not, as in Greece and Egypt, the structures on which the architect lavished all the resources of his art and his science. They were, in a general way, copies of Greek originals, and did not equal the models after which they were fashioned, nor greatly honor the metropolis of the world. Few remains of them exist. The Church of Santa Maria Ezizica was once a heathen temple, and after some necessary changes, used for Christian worship. This was tetrastyle, with half columns around it, and of the kind called by Vitruvius pseudo-peripteral. A few fragmentary remains of other temples are found in Rome, but there are much finer specimens in some of the provinces. The best is the Maison Carrée at Nêmes. This was probably erected during the reign of Hadrian. There is a portico in front, while the sides and rear have columns attached. The details of the capitals and entablature are almost pure Greek.
At Baalbec, the ancient Heliopolis in Syria, not far from Damascus, are the ruins of another magnificent, provincial Roman temple. It was built in the time of the Antonines, and must have been of very extensive dimensions. At the western end of an immense court, on an artificial elevation, stand the remains of what is called the Great Temple. This was 290 feet long by 160 feet wide, and had 54 columns supporting its roof, only six of which now remain erect. Their height, including base and capital, is 75 feet, and their diameter at the base 7 feet. They are of the Corinthian order, and above them rises an elaborately moulded entablature, 14 feet in height. The most striking feature of these buildings is the colossal size of the stones used in their construction.
Among the most remarkable public buildings, whether in the mother city, or in the provinces, were the Basilicas, or halls of justice, used also as commercial exchanges. These were generally oblong, covered halls, divided into three or five aisles by rows of columns. At one end was a semi-circular recess, the floor of which was raised considerably above the level of the rest of the floor, and here the presiding magistrate had his seat.
Although the Romans were not particularly interested in dramatic representations, they were passionately fond of shows and games of all kinds. Hence they built many theatres and amphitheatres in all their cities and large towns. The most stupendous fabric of the kind that was ever erected was the Flavian amphitheater or Colosseum, whose ruins attest its pristine magnificence.
“Arches on arches, as if it were that Rome, collecting the chief trophies of her line, would build up all the triumphs in one dome.” It was oblong, 620 feet in length, and 513 feet wide. It was favorably situated between the Esquiline and the Cœlian hills, and admirably planned for the convenience of the vast audiences, estimated at from 50,000 to 80,000. Recent excavations have revealed the communications that existed between the arena and the dens, where the wild animals, slaves, and prisoners were confined. The external façade is composed of four stories, separated by entablatures that run completely round the building, without a break. The three lower stories consist of a series of semi-circular arched openings, eighty in number, separated by piers with attached columns in front of them, the Doric order being used in the lowest story, the Ionic in the second, and the Corinthian in the third.
From these meager facts the reader must imagine the magnificence and grandeur of the Colosseum, or seek for fuller information in works of ancient art. Nothing can give us a more impressive idea of the grandeur and lavish display of Imperial Rome, than the remains of the huge Thermæ or bathing establishments. These belong mostly to the Christian era.
Agrippa built the first, A. D. 10, and thence to 324 A. D., no less than twelve of these vast establishments were erected by different emperors, including Constantine, and bequeathed to the people. The baths of Caracalla and Diocletian are the only ones that remain in any state of preservation, and were probably the finest and most extensive of them all.
There is one ancient building in Rome more impressive than any other—not only because of its better state of preservation, but because of the dignity with which it was designed, the perfection of execution, and the effectiveness of the mode in which the interior is lighted—the Pantheon. It is the finest example of a domed hall that is left. It has the circular form with a diameter of 145 feet, and a height to the top of the dome of 147 feet. The magnificent dome is enriched with boldly recessed panels, and these covered with bronze ornaments.
The domestic architecture of the Romans at an early day was rich, but few traces of it remain. The buildings were of two kinds; the insula, or block of buildings, containing a number of buildings, and the domus, or detached mansion.
Their buildings, in the first centuries rude, came, in time, to have a very decided architectural character. We gather from them that daring, energy, readiness, structural skill, and a not too fastidious taste were characteristics of Roman architects and their works.
Constantine the Great, who had encouraged the erection of houses of Christian worship in Rome and other parts of Italy, exerted a marked influence on architecture when he removed the seat of empire from Rome to Byzantium, and called the new capital Constantinople. He rebuilt the city that was almost in ruins, though not deserted. The people were largely of the Greek race, and had Greek ideas of architecture. Hence a new development of the church building differing somewhat from the style of the basilicas soon showed itself.
In Byzantium buildings of most original design sprang up, founded, it is true, on Roman originals, but by no means exact copies of them. The most difficult problems of construction, particularly of roofs, were successfully met and solved.
What course the art ran during the two centuries between the refounding of Byzantium and the building of Santa Sophia, we can only infer from its outcome. But it is certain that to attain the power of designing and erecting so great a work as Santa Sophia, the architects of Constantinople must have greatly modified and improved the Roman practice of building vaults and domes.
The first church dedicated to Santa Sophia by Constantine was burnt early in the reign of Justinian; and, in rebuilding it, his architects succeeded in erecting one of the most famous buildings in the world, and one which is the typical and central embodiment of a distinct and strongly marked, well-defined style. Its distinctive feature is the adoption of the dome in preference to the vault, or timber roof, as the covering of the walls. In this grand edifice, one vast flattish dome dominates the central space. This dome is circular in form and the space over which it is placed is square, the sides of which are occupied by four massive semi-circular arches of 100 feet span each, springing from four vast piers, one at each corner. The triangular spaces in the corners of the square, so enclosed, and the circle or ring resting on it, become portions of the dome, each just sufficient to fit on one corner of the square, and the four uniting at their upper margin, to form a ring. From this ring springs the main dome that rises to a height of 46 feet, and is 107 feet in clear diameter. Externally this church is less interesting, but its interior is of surpassing beauty, and is thus eloquently described by Gilbert Scott: “Simple as is the primary ideal, the actual effect is one of great intricacy, and of continuous gradation of parts from the small arcades up to the stupendous dome which hangs with little apparent support, like a vast bubble, over the centre; or, as Procopius, who witnessed its erection, said, ‘as if suspended by a chain from heaven.’” The type of church of which this magnificent cathedral was the great example, has continued in eastern Christendom to the present day with but little variation. Between Rome and Constantinople, well situated for receiving influences from both those cities, was Ravenna,—and there a series of buildings, all more or less Byzantine, was erected. The most interesting of these is the church of San Vitale. It recalls Santa Sophia, and its structure, sculpture, carving and mosaic decorations are equally characteristic and hardly less famous.
We need only mention one other magnificent specimen of this style of architecture, more within the reach of ordinary travelers, and consequently better known. It can be studied easily by means of almost numberless photographic representations—St. Marks, at Venice. It was built between the years 977 and 1071, it is said, according to a design obtained from Constantinople.
This term is used to indicate a style of architecture founded on Roman art, which prevailed in Western Europe before the rise of that known as Gothic.
Under this general name, if applied broadly, many closely allied local varieties, as for example, the Lombard, Rhenish, Saxon, and Norman, can be conveniently included. After the removal of the Roman capital to Byzantium, and the incursion of the Northern tribes, the spectacle of Europe was melancholy in the extreme.
Nothing but the church retained any semblance of organized existence; and when, at length, order began to be restored from a chaos of universal ruin, and churches began to be built in Western Europe, the people looked to Rome as their ecclesiastic center.
Where the Romish church had influence, the architecture had the Roman type; and, where the Eastern church prevailed, it adhered closely to the Byzantium models. This style, with local varieties, still obtains in most parts of Europe, and, to some extent, in American church building. An architect of genius and taste may successfully combine different orders; but most who attempt it fail. To succeed well, a good degree of originality is needed.
Who, that reads poetry at all, has not read and admired “Snow-Bound?” “That exquisite poem has no prototype in English literature unless Burns’ ‘Cotter’s Saturday Night’ be one, and it will be long, I fear, before it will have a companion piece. Out of materials of the slightest order, really common-place, Mr. Whittier had made a poem that will live, and can no more be rivaled by any winter poetry that may be written hereafter, than ‘Thanatopsis’ can be rivaled as a meditation on the universality of death. The characters of this little idyl are carefully drawn.… Everything is naturally introduced, and the reflections, which are manly and pathetic, are among the finest that Mr. Whittier has ever written. ‘Snow-Bound’ at once authenticated itself as an idyl of New England life and manners.”—(Abridged) R. H. Stoddard.
As in the case of Hood, the fun in Holmes is always jostling the pathos. After some comic picture or grotesque phrase or quick thrust, the reader comes suddenly upon a stanza of perfect beauty of form with the gentlest touch of natural feeling. To illustrate this, it may be pardonable to quote even from so well known a poem as “The Last Leaf:”
The last stanza is a pearl so perfect that one can not conceive it as having been made; it seems that it must have been created.—Francis H. Underwood.
It is difficult to imagine the time when any of the characteristic poems of Holmes will slumber on the shelves of antiquaries. They must be eternally new to the new generations, because they are founded in nature, constructed with art, animated by the noblest qualities of intellect and feeling—uniting the wit of Heine with the freshness of Beranger—and are finished as few poems have been finished since the odes of Horace.—Scribner’s Monthly.
It is not necessary to say that Lowell is the first poet of the time, or of the country, although it would be possible to maintain that proposition with strong reasons; but it will be conceded, we think, by most who have the capacity of appreciating poetic genius, that in some of his strains he reaches a note as lofty and clear and pure as any this generation has produced, and has written what will have long life in the world, and be hoarded by the wise as treasures of thought and expression.—Boston Advertiser.
The wisdom and wit and insight and imagination of the book are as delightful as they are surprising. The most cynical critic will not despair of American literature, if American authors are to write such books.—G. W. Curtis.
The moving power of Mr. Lowell’s poetry, which we take to be its delicate apprehension of the spiritual essence in common things, is, in some of his poems, embodied in the fine organization of a purely poetic diction; in others, in the strong, broad language of popular feeling and humor; and we enjoy each the more for the presence of the other.—The Spectator (London).
[The following exquisite lines are suggestive, and in strong contrast with the familiar rollicking stanzas in the serio-comic “Biglow Papers.”]
The world is impatient of distinction; it chafes against it, rails at it, insults it, hates it; it ends by receiving its influence, and by undergoing its law. This quality at last inexorably corrects the world’s blunders, and fixes the world’s ideals. It procures that the popular poet shall not finally pass for a Pindar, nor the popular historian for a Tacitus, nor the popular preacher for a Bossuet.—Matthew Arnold.
“Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth, in order, a declaration” of such things as pertain to our national history, even as they testify to us who were contemporary with the events narrated, it seems good for me also to write, not because what may be here recorded will be new to the readers, but rather to call to remembrance things that were known, but are partially forgotten; and possibly to put them in such form that the tenure by which they are held may hereafter be more secure.
If greatly interested in the annals of other nations, whether ancient or modern, and ready to gather instruction alike from their excellencies and defects, their failures and successes, the American citizen should certainly find special interest in the history of his own country. Whatever else fails to interest him, a freeman, worthy of his heritage, will carefully study the elements of strength or weakness, security or danger of our institutions. Knowing, as he must, that the events that pass in succession before him are not causeless, or without meaning, he both inquires for their source, and hears their prophecy of the future. When others see but happenings and accidents, the more thoughtful recognize a guiding, controlling hand, and confess
American, or United States history is luminous from its earliest dawn. Unlike other histories in the prescribed course, as the Greek and Roman, reaching back to such remote antiquity as to become quite lost in the shadowy past, ours has none of that “mythological period;” no age in which nymphs and dryads, fauns and satyrs, gods and demi-gods are introduced as actors. The annals of the earliest American civilization record not legends and fables, but facts, things of actual occurrence and thoroughly attested by those who knew well whereof they affirmed. Those introduced as sages and heroes, challenging our admiration for the wisdom of their counsels and valor of their deeds were not myths, of whose very existence there is doubt. Great men, indeed, they were, and worthy of all the honors received; yet, but men, and subject to the limitations and liabilities of our common manhood.
We do not deify those to whom we are most indebted, or surround honored names with the flowers of rhetoric. The praise that is merited is bestowed as it is due to the truth.
The pioneers in the settlement of the continent, by laying the foundations of our free institutions, and starting their communities toward the advanced civilization now enjoyed, conferred on us lasting obligations; but in regard to many of them “they builded better than they knew.” Often they were rude, narrow, superstitious and mistaken, though earnest, manly and sincere; their best eulogy is to tell the story as it was.
The sources of reliable information on which we may draw are so abundant there can be no want of material. The only embarrassment is from the riches in possession. To make the most judicious selection for a succinct yet coherent, suggestive narration is a task of no ordinary difficulty. The country itself first demands some notice, before we speak of its inhabitants and their institutions. The domain of the great American Union is now nearly four times as large as at the close of the Revolutionary war. The thirty-nine sovereign states, District of Columbia, and eight large organized territories occupy an area of 3,280,572 square miles, with a reserve of 600,000 square miles of unoccupied or sparsely inhabited territory, from which we know not how many states may be made after the population has been sufficiently increased.
The commonwealth, not including Alaska, is bounded north by the British possessions in America, from which it is partly separated by the great northern lakes, Superior, Huron, St. Clair, Erie and Ontario, with the St. Clair, Niagara and St. Lawrence rivers; east by New Brunswick, the Atlantic Ocean, and the Gulf of Mexico; south by the Gulf of Mexico and the Mexican border; west by the Pacific Ocean. The greatest length, from the Atlantic to the Pacific is 2600 miles; the greatest breadth, from Maine to Florida, 1600 miles. The frontier line toward British America measures 3,303 miles, and the coast line 12,909 miles. With such possessions, stretching across the continent from ocean to ocean, and over 25° in latitude, having exhaustless resources, a climate sufficiently varied, a free government, and just laws, we may well say the future of the nation is full of promise.
But little account can or need be given of the savage tribes inhabiting the continent when it first became known to the civilized world.
Men multiplied on the earth and spread themselves widely over its habitable portions for ages, during which, in their dispersion, little was known by the clans of each other, or of the world beyond their local habitations. The few imperfect records made were not lasting, and the generations following often lost all knowledge of their own origin.
In most European countries the once uncultured savage tribes either improving, through their own exertions, escaped by degrees from the effete barbarisms of their ancestors, or when overcome by foes of superior intelligence, they profited by their subjugation, and, accepting the better civilization of their conquerors, became important factors in the provincial governments that were established. These carried with them a little legendary knowledge. The earliest historians, as Herodotus and others, recorded many of their legends that were mere fancies—unauthentic fabrications relating to their pre-historic days.
We have no such mythical elements in American history, particularly in the history of the United States. The first inhabitants (wild men of the forest) were possibly as rude and superstitious as any in the Orient. But the North American Indians of our region were never, unless in a few exceptional cases, made integral parts of the new communities established in the country. When friendly relations were sought they made treaties, retiring from the grounds they sold; and, when subject to hostile attack, they fell or fled before the invaders. Without letters or art, the rude monuments they left had little significance. Their few oral traditions did not descend to them from days very remote, and their origin is wrapped in mystery. From what branch of the human family their ancestors came, or by what route they reached the continent, is not known.
If all the tribes had a common origin in this country it evidently must have been very remote, as they were found widely different in language and other tribal peculiarities. Some resemblance may be traced, but only by long separation and different modes of life could members of the same family become so dissimilar.
The number of Indians previous to the settlement of the country by European colonists can only be estimated. It was great, and they spread over most parts of the continent. That it was overestimated is probable. Not much given to planting or building, but living principally by the chase, and on what the earth produced without tillage, they were more or less nomadic in their habits, and the bounds of their habitation not well defined. Yet, as tribes, they appropriated lands, and counted at least the number of their warriors who could go out to battle.
The great nations—the Esquimaux, Algonquins, Iroquois, Mobillians and Dacotas seem to have been confederacies, each made up of several tribes, usually acting together in war; but, in peace, content to occupy their own hunting grounds. But a small number of all the Indians now on the continent are within the bounds of the United States, and the number is growing less. That the wild men of the forest vanish before the advancing hosts of civilization is doubtless true. The whole number at present in all the states and territories, including Alaska, probably does not exceed 200,000, much the larger number being women and children; a pitiable remnant of the one hundred and fifty-two tribes of warlike men, whose braves were a terror to their foes. The Cherokees, Creeks, Choctaws, Chickisaws, now in the Indian Territory, with the remnants of tribes that remain on small reservations in the states, in all about 50,000, are in a more hopeful condition. They have already a good degree of civilization, and many of them cordially accept the teachings and institutions of Christianity. They have their homes, schools, ministers and churches. They practice the industries of civilized life, and in their moral and religious habits are scarcely inferior to their white neighbors. These may in time take their places as states in the Union, or personally become citizens of other states, as they elect. If they do not, extinction seems to be inevitable. They may receive, as they should, kind and liberal treatment. But to remain very long wards of the government, retaining a distinct nationality in the midst of powerful and rapidly increasing communities, from whom they are separated by no sufficient natural boundaries, is simply impossible. The only hope for them is in citizenship, collectively or personally obtained.
The physical character of the country will be best understood when spoken of in connection with the political divisions. It presents as much variety as any other great section of the globe. There is both beauty and grandeur. The intelligent beholder from other shores is impressed with the vastness of what he sees. There are great prairies, plains and forests—with trees the largest in the world; great lakes, rivers and cataracts; magnificent mountain ranges, abounding in scenery as grand as the eye need look upon. It was just the place in which to found a great empire, and build institutions to last for ages.
The last half century has thrown much light on the question of discovery; and evidence is conclusive that it dates at least six hundred years before the first European settlement at Jamestown, Va., in May, 1607. In 1001 Lief Erickson, an Icelandic captain, with a small company of daring Norsemen, sailed from Greenland, reached Labrador, and, in the spirit of adventure, coasted as far south as Massachusetts, where they remained a year. Thorwald, a brother of the last named hero, made a voyage a year later to Maine and Massachusetts, where he died. In 1005 and 1007 there came larger crews from the same region, and made more extended explorations, but apparently with no well defined object in view. Those Norsemen, from the extreme northwestern part of Europe, were a rough race of dangerous pirates—bold, hardy, but ignorant navigators, known and dreaded by the countries they visited as the terrible “sea kings” of that age. Rovers over all seas to which they found access, they explored unknown lands for plunder, not for settlement. Nothing valuable resulted from their discoveries. For centuries all knowledge gained by them was lost, and nothing was known in Europe of their voyages. The very name, Vinland, given to the country in Iceland, was for ages lost. And the more intelligent efforts, afterward made, were in no way suggested, so far as we know, by even vague rumors of what these sea robbers found. The continent discovered by accident, was, through ignorance, never made known to the civilized world; and so, for centuries, remained the terra incognita; and the real discovery of such untold value to the race was reserved for those of more intelligence, who purposely, at great sacrifice, and guided by scientific principles, sought the western hemisphere, of whose existence they were confident.
Christopher Columbus, born at Genoa, Italy, in 1435, was carefully educated, and interested in maritime matters from his youth. Mandeville, the traveler, had proclaimed the earth a sphere, or round, and had given his reasons. Columbus not only had faith in the astronomical discovery, but sought to turn his knowledge to some practical account. He argued, conclusively, that the world being round, if there were no intervening lands to hinder sailing westward over the open seas, he would much easier than by the known route, reach the spice lands of the East Indias. That was the object of his search, and when, after seventy-one days sailing, land was sighted, the anxious voyagers supposed their end was gained. He first stepped ashore, unfurled their flag, and finding the place an island, named it San Salvador. Three or four other islands of the group were added to his discoveries during the voyage; but the main land was not visited, and from a misconception as to the size of the earth, supposing it to be only 12,000 or 14,000 miles in circumference, they supposed the fertile, salubrious isles then discovered were near the coast of India, and so named them the West Indias.
Columbus made a second voyage, discovered several more islands, and established a colony at Hayti, his brother being governor. After an absence of three years he returned to Spain, to find himself suspected, accused, and the victim of a relentless persecution. His enemies not only stripped him of his merited honors as a discoverer, but to further compass his disgrace, sent him from his colony he had revisited a prisoner in chains. Though soon released and fully vindicated, the balance of his days were clouded. It remained for posterity to rescue his name from oblivion. Though the less deserving Florentine, Amerigo Vespucci, by his craft and the dullness of the times, succeeded in attaching his name to the continent, we still heartily sing “Hail Columbia,” in memory of the real discoverer, while many towns, counties and cities perpetuate the honored name.
Within ten years after the death of Columbus the principal islands of the West Indias were explored, and settlements were commenced. The excitement becoming intense not only in Spain, but in the western states of Europe, adventurers increased. In 1512 a Spaniard, rich and well advanced in years, left Porto Rico, touched at San Salvador, and in due time came in sight of an unknown land that seemed, as they entered it, a place of beauty; he named it Florida, or land of flowers. This, too, was supposed another island, more beautiful than any before discovered. A landing was effected, and the country claimed for the King of Spain. The coast was explored for many leagues, some valuable information gained, and the adventurers sailed back to Porto Rico. Afterward Ponce, the aged explorer, was sent to found a colony, and be its governor. In 1521 he again landed, but his right to rule was contested by the Indians, who were found in a state of bitter hostility. They at once made a furious attack. Many of the Spaniards were killed, and Ponce De Leon, wounded by an arrow, was carried back to Cuba to die.
In 1519 Fernando Cortes landed at Tabasco, and began the conquest of Mexico. As that section of the continent is without the limits of the United States, we avoid a detailed statement of his progress, marked by the unexampled rapacity and cruelty of the invaders. Tens of thousands of the unoffending—many of them unarmed—inhabitants were not slain in battle, but massacred in their streets and homes.
The lust of gold, rather than ambition, was the ruling passion, and the treasures of the Montezumas failed to satisfy it. Drenched in the blood of her citizens, Mexico became a Spanish province. The Spaniards bore the christian name, and sadly disgraced it. The appalling scenes of treachery, cruelty and bloodshed they enacted are scarcely equaled in the annals of savage warfare. To turn from them is a relief.
[End of Required Reading for February.]