ÀҾ˹éÒ˹ѧÊ×Í
PDF
ePub

MAN'S OBJECT IN ADVANCING THE
ARTS AND SCIENCES.*

emotions, he turned towards the group before him, who, with the new sensations that filled their souls, felt as though they had been suddenly translated from the depths of some terriole Or the objects with which men have labored desert to the delicious bowers of Paradise; and

telling them that he should pay them another visit on the day after Christmas, to inquire further into the deplorable condition of their trade, he bade them adieu, and departed.

If his soul drew nearer to God that night, after the divine deed that he had done; a holy, serene, and festive peace spread itself, like a blue summer's heaven, above his spirit, where is the matter for surprise?

Strange wonder and curiosity were rife among the neighbors that night, as they lay drowsily listening on their straw pallets, to hear, hour after hour, the ontinuous ascent and descent of heavy footsteps on the old ruined stairs, and the clattering sounds that through half the night

were going on overhea 1.

WHAT IS CHARITY?

To open the unsparing hand,
And scatter largess o'er the land,
At bare-faced Beggary's demand:
This is not charity.

To lead the list of wealthy fame
That, lighting Labor's honest claim,
Endows some servile act of shame:

This is not charity.

The mite ungracious of the mean;
The gift enforced, that ne'er had been
By human eye of praise unseen,
This is not charity.

In hope of usury to give,
Reward of service to receive:
Let not the selfish thought deceive
That this is charity.

Unasked the ready aid to lend;
The orphan life in love befriend :
With penury's dark woof to blend

Help's golden thread, as charity.
For anger's look the loving word;
The passion-prompted speech unheard:
To quench the thought deep wrong has stirred:

This-this is Heaven's own charity!

Prosperity is a more refined and severer test of character than adversity, as one hour of summer Bunshine produces greater corruption than the longest winter day.

Mistrust the mind which suspects others. Suspicion is involuntary self-betrayal-the rattle appended to the snake, warning us of its venom.

Most of the shadows that cross our path through life, are caused by our standing in our light.

to advance the arts and sciences, viz., for the
service and advantage of their fellow men, we
find innumerable examples in history, both an-
cient and modern. Such were the ancient philo-
sophers, Socrates among the number, whose fate
may be regarded as a fair example of the consi-
deration which such men ever meet at the hands
of their fellow men.
benefactors of their race, from Socrates down-
Have not the greatest
wards, been emphatically denominated the mar-
tyrs of science-men who have labored only to
develope truth for truth's sake, unmindful of the
hardships and crosses it was their lot to contend

with? Such men, thank God, have lived in all
ages; such, it is to be earnestly hoped, are living
even now, though necessarily almost unknown,
but probably at some future day, when those mo-
dern celebrities, Tom Thumb and the Rochester
knockers, have sank into deserved oblivion, the
world may discover that it owes something to
Liebig. Leverier, and other silent workers, who
are now little regarded.

But the spirit which characterises the present day is more in accordance with what might be expected to result from pursuing, as an object, the last-mentioned aim, with which men have labored to advance the arts and sciences, viz., for personal profit and individual aggrandizement. If we are really, as some affirm, in advance of the ancients in these branches of knowledge, then it must be admitted that the love of money is a more powerful incentive to action than religion, veneration, poetry, and patriotism, those old fashioned faiths which induced the Egyptians. Grecians, and other (so called) benighted nations, to labor for the advancement of art, as they undeubtedly did. Look at the great achievements of modern science, upon which we found our claims to superiority over all other ages; our steamrailroads, and electric telegraphis; our canals, water-works, and innumerable engines, and ma chinery, with which this groaning earth now travails in labor as it rolis along its way! What is the main object, aim, and end of all? To what is all this wonderful application of mechar ical science tending? Why, simply to the acquisition of wealth, the amelioration of our bodily condi tion. Whatever will make us richer is good. If it makes us better also, it is so much gained in the way of business which we did not look for;

Extracted from a Lecture delivered by Dr. Juses, before the St. Catherines Mechani institute.

but profit we must have of a substantial kind, or we will have nothing to do with it. Individual or national aggrandizement is the primary object of all exertions, and only so far as they prove effectual for this purpose, are they ultimately carried out. Men walk by sight and not by faith; the visible, practical, tangible, whose effects can be rendered evident to our outward senses, are the highest objects of our desire. We no longer ask what ultimate good is to be derived from this or that course of action, but simply, will it or will it not pay, and in that one word our highest idea is embodied. We have reduced everything to a mechanical standard; pounds. shillings, and pence is the touchstone to test everything physical and spiritual. Few considerations penetrate more deeply than the bo.toms of our pockets. Society has set up a golden calf for its divinity, and woe unto him who falls not down to worship it.

To convince ourselves that the love of gold, the desire of gain, is more than any other the characteristic motive to action of the present day, among the highest and lowest, we have only to look for a moment at the wonderful revolution wrought in society by the discovery of that metal in California and Australia. Were it not that we live in an age of wonders, and that from being constantly familiarized with astonishing facts, we have lost the faculty of being surprised at any thing, we should surely lift up our hands in amazement, at the results which have flowed from these discoveries.

unfelt and unacknowledged. Tastes, habits, and inclinations, fostered for years, were readily and cheerfully dispensed with, the beau became a ragged sans culotte, and the exquisite, a bearded, dirty, and dishevelled idler. Identity of feeling and pursuit had equalized the most opposite; the accomplished lawyer labored with his pickaxe for a nugget, as he had never labored for a reputation or a fee; the scientific scholar and mathemati. cian, master of a dozen languages, ancient and modern, was fain to turn cook and bottlewasher for a share of the spoils, to men whose only possessions were hands hardened by daily laber, and mu cles and constitutions inured to toil. I have myself known, and which of us has not, men of highest scientific attainments and the best education, men calculated by their talents and acquirements to adorn the loftiest social position; fathers of families and masters of competence, possessed by this leading idea, cast every other thought and consideration to the winds, and traverse wide and dangerous oceans, pestilent climes, and thirsty and barren deserts; nay, suppo t with Spartan fortitude and unflinching stoicism, sufferi..gs and hardships whose very mention would appal the bravest, all for the gratification of one dominant passion—to quench the thirst for gold! I maintain, confidently, that no other inducement, however worthy, would, in this reputed age of common sense, have produced the same startling results!

The Sultan, with dexterous and graceful skill, divided with his keen Damascus blade a siken scarf floating in air, and a gossamer pillow. The effect of either stroke would be equally deadly in

Nor do we differ from the ancients more in the Not merely the poor, the indigent, and the un-objects at which we aim than in the methods we provided for; not only the curious who lacked use for their accomplishment. Many of us may other occupation, the loose, unsettled, and rest-recollec the story of a trial of skill in swordsmanless portion of the community have been smittenship, said to have taken place between Richard by the epidemic, but the wealthy and highly es- Ist. of England and the celebrated Sultan Saladin, teemed the independent man and the pauper at the time of the Crusades. The English monthe scientific man, the professional man, the far-arch, with one powerful and downright blow of mer, the mechanic, and the laborer-all for once his weapon, struck asunder a heavy iron bar. acting with unity of thought and purpose rushed frantic ly to the diggings, as if the one sole object, aim, and end of every exertion of the faculties or powers of man was to grasp a handful of gold! All ties, the most sacred, were disregard-combat, but the aim of the first would be acco ned; all dangers, the most terrific and loathsome, were dared and despised; all difficulties, the most superhuman, were overcome; the ordinary distinctions of civilized society were abolished; the previous labours of a life time thrown away. Men, hither o kmown only for their domestic virtues, became fierce and greedy adventurers; the ignorant and immoral were degraded into brutes; even the humane and cultivated became often desperate savages. The ties of home and kindred, the claims of affection and duty, were

plished by direct physical force, of the other by scientific sleight of hand. This strikes me as the principal difference between our method of apply ing our knowledge and that of the ancients. Their means of accomplishment was by striking the direct blow, and they used all the force of which they were capable, certainly with astonishing results. We, on the contrary, place more reliance on the head than on the arm, and are ever endeavoring to substitute science and skill for individual physical labor.

Now all this would be perfectly right and profitable, did we apply the principle only to material things; but the mechanical spirit of the age is tending unconsciously to render all things subservient to it, and, like the lean kine of Pharaoh, to swallow up all else whatsoever. Now, there is a limit to everything in nature. The ancient Babylonians built well until exalted by the pride of power; they attempted to mount to heaven on the mechanical works of their handsthen they were utterly confounded. Mechanics have done and can yet do much for us, much also, there is of greater moment to which they can never attain. It is as a servant not as a master that we ask their aid. The axe with which the architect fashions his work is an invaluable instrument, but it requires the guidance of a skilful and accomplished genius to render it not abso lutely destructive.

Let the application of the mechanics be confined to its just and legitimate bounds; the wedge, the lever, and the screw, propelled by the energetic arm of steam, can only be productive of unmixed good, when used for developing the hidden resources of inanimate matter, and bending and subduing the stubborn elements, of which the earth is composed, to the will and services of their master, man.

When a Leverier, by patient thought, discovers to us a new planet, mechanical means enable us to measure its distance, and the period of its revolution. When a Colon, by long years of study and application, declares to a mocking world the existence of a new continent. Mechanical appliances enable us to cross oceans and gather its untold wealth. But genius, inspiration, the creative power, the individual energy by which the masses of mankind are advanced, often sorely against their will, is of a spiritual, not a material nature; and he who would climb the misty mountain tops of truth, and reach to where man hath not hitherto attained, must soar on other than mechanical wings.

strength, are wrested from her grasp, and turned by cunning man, in obedience to nature's unva rying laws, against her own maternal bosom. The impalpable air bears up our dense bodies, we walk unscathed beneath the ocean's foam, the lightning glances to the far ends of the earth to tell that we are coming, and we, stepping confi dently upon our fire harnessed car, follow like rolling thunder in its train.

Old things are passed away, and all things are become new. It is after novelty, irrespective of its intrinsic truthfulness and worth, that mankind are now hastening; it is the blazing comet, the mysterious meteor which attracts our attention and claims our homage, while the placid and pale-faced moon traversing nightly the blue vault of heaven, to shed upon us her gentle and benignant rays, is little, if at all regarded. A king Hudson, rising on the gilded wings of successful speculation, is worshipped, fawned upon and flattered, to the utmost verge of earthly adulation, while a noble minded and accomplished Haydon, driven to insanity by starvation and cold neglect, yields himself to despair, and commits suicide in his forgotten studio, the scene of his unappreciated and unrequited toil.

These are painful tacts, and rather tell against the intellectual advancement of which we boast; I might mention many others, and some nearer home, but I forbear! Why should we close our eyes to the truth? The age we live in is a self-sufficient age. We claim superiority upon purely mechanical grounds. In mechanism, and its application to external objects, we excel all other ages; and were man a purely material being, we were the greatest people since the creation of the world; but this is not the case. There is in man's dualism a spiritual part, possessed of a higher nature-a loftier aspiration, and in whatever respects this portion of his being, in pure morality, religion, veneration, and true dignity of soul and character, we are inferior to many less highly civilized ages which have preceded us.

Truth is rarely a chance production which discovers itself unsought. It is the rich and satis- In literature and the fine arts, our observations fying fruit yielded only to that true and faithful hold equally good: it is the dashing, bold, and husbandman, who sows for it in hopeful but un- superficial style-the rapid, though coarse delineremitting toil! But this slow and tedious processation which pleases; for deep and earnest con-this toilsome steep ascent, is little in accord-siderations, requiring any mental effort, we have ance with the spirit of hot haste which charac. terises this mechanical period; like lurid meteors darting athwart the midnight sky, we rush upon the vapory wings of steam from east to west, from pole to pole, earth, conquered and subdued, lies bound with many an iron girdle beneath our flying feet-the very elements, her armory of

no time. The world, on its high-pressure engine, is madly shrieking along its course-all is noise, hurry, and confusion, and we feel as if we must join them or be left behind. Nature and experience have taught us throughout all time, that by such means nothing truly worthy can be attained; it is by silent meditation that a Newton discovers

the system of a universe; by long years of strenuous application to the teachings of the past, aided by patient individual endeavor, that a Co. lumbus discerns and confidently predicts, ere he has yet seen it-the discovery of a new world! Truth is ever calm and noiseless, dignified in the consciousness of strength as the deepest and most profound waters, need no roaring and flashing breakers to disclose their might; it is the shallowest streamlets which ever run with the greatest turmoil; deep and majestic rivers are ever silent as the grave. Not from such loud external vaultings may we rightly judge of power, either spiritual or physical; "the meek silent light can mould, create and purify all nature, but the wide wasting whirlwind, the sign and product of disunion, of weakness, passes on and is forgotten."

loveliness his cabinet contained, I should spoil the trade of the loquacious guide, whose calling it is to expatiate upon it (for five francs a day) to the tourist whose curiosity leads him to Berne.

At the time of this history, there sat at the round table in the midst of the room a happy couple, deeply engaged over one of those costly and elegant volumes forming a part of the works of Redinger. Whether they might have lost themselves in the contemplation of these wonderful drawings which cause us to dream of a time long gone by, I know not; it is sufficient for me to say that they were not, and thus, far removed from drawing parallels between past ages and now, they were only enjoying fully the truth reigning in the drawings. One of them was a girl of scarce eight years, in whose tender gentle countenance there lay a rich promise for womanhood; the other was a little man of almost repulsive exterior, who seemed to have run the major part part of his life. It was singular to mark the contrast be

GOTTFRIED MIND, THE CAT RAFAELE. tween the rich costume of the merchant's

CHAPTER I.

Ir was regular Christmas weather. Driven by the wind, along the deserted streets of Berne, now dark with the closing evening, the snow fell in firm flakes, as if it were deter- | mined to teach those few persons who ran through the town very closely wrapped in their mantles, and to teach them very thoroughly, too, that there is nothing better to be done on a Christmas night than to sit at home in one's own circle.

daughter and the poor, and almost countrified dress of her companion. Still more strange it was to look upon the slender waist, the tender limbs, the bright locks, and the brighter face of the child, and then turn to the strong rough hair, and the clumsy countenance of the man to whom his square forehead, his prominent cheek-bones, his large mouth, and his brownish-reddened complexion gave a fierce aspect. A mild and almost melting eye was the only feature which redeemed the face from utter ugliness, and it reminds one always of the fairy story, where the prince is hidden under the most frightful form; but the enchanter's power extends not to the eye, which gleams mildly and gently forth, the only trace of a higher nature.

"Shall we go on, Friedli ?'; said the little one.

"Do, Aenelli," replied the other with a gruff voice. "What is yon under the picture? These Italian letters I don't understand."

Herr Siegmund Wagner, the rich merchant and counsellor, seemed hours ago to have acknowledged the truth of the principle the weather was so stormily laying down, and sitting in his comfortable arin-chair at a table covered with engravings, pencils, and drawing materials, was sketching with a rapid hand some hasty outline by the light of the lamp, adding now and then some apology for shading, and finally laying down his pencil to glance at his work with that peculiar comfort inspired by a sensation of warmth in the The child read "The Bear-fight." "The midst of what he knew to be the most dread-bear is a fierce animal when excited” ful weather. The quiet hum of conversation, "Nonsense," growled Friedli; "those be too, now and then stole across his ear from no bears. Has the bears such a long thin the adjoining room, and heightened his plea- snout, like a greyhound! Rubbish! And the action isn't right. There ought to be a In that apartment it was that Herr Sieg-joint here. Badly drawn altogether. This mund Wagner kept his costly and curious col- isn't good, this isn't!" lection of engravings, statuettes, vases, and other works of art, and his great delight was in the increasing of his store. Why should I describe the apartment? It is enough to say that everything was in most beautiful order, and that from Flemish pictures and Italian landscapes, to Etruscan vases and Indian fans, there was one continued chain of beauty and rarity, wanting in not a single link. Besides, if I were to describe all the

sure.

Herr Wagner had silently come behind them.

"Hallo! Friedli, what's that you say? Redinger is known far and wide as an animal painter, and his bears are thought models by artists!"

"It's not true, sir," returned the other flatly. "Go into the bear garden here, and look at the beasts yourself. See how they tumble and climb, and stand and eat apples

and brea! Look at 'em closely, sir. Re-when the enthusiast interrupted him, and bedinger hasn't seen the animals; he has paint gan to lighten his heart in words. ed them according to the story. The dogs, the stags, and the lions, they are good; but the bear I could do better."

"Wagner, just think of my good fortune. Guess what has happened-no, no, it is impossible, you cannot conceive my happiness: "Well, well, don't get excited," replied the an hour ago the most glorious wish of my excounselor softly, "and for to night let us istence was accomplished-what do I say?— leave the engravings. On New Year's n ght accomplished!-surpassed!—surpassed à milwe will look at them again. For this time, lion degrees! Dear Aenneli, a glass of sugar come. Tea is ready.' and water; I burn with the heart-filling de

Growling like one of his own favorites, Fri-light of my prize!" edli clap ed the folio to, replaced it in its wel known shelf, and accepting his host's invitation, departed into the next room.

the chair exhausted with his joy, then dashed He drained the glass at once, sank down on up again just as quickly, ran back again to the counsellor, and taking him by the shoulders, sh on him as if he would try to shake him into an appreciation of his luck.

The golden yellow tea was steaming in the delicate porcelain cups. The table bore an elegant dish of biscuits, carefully piled into a "Only think, counsellor," he exclaimed, pyramid. Fied'i did not omit to pay due at-"this evening I have got him complete-quite tention to the cake and tea.

"You have not yet told me how all goes on at home?" asked the merchant.

"Busi will have kittens to-morrow, I think," was Friedli's answer.

"Pooh, I don't ask after the cat, but after the mistress."

"Well, she grumbles," Gottfried said laco nically.

"One of Busi's kittens you'll give me, won't yon; a very pretty one?" the child said. "Do promise it me.'

The promise seems to be a very hard one with Friedli, but (otwithstanding that a branch of the house of Busi was a great and precious branch indeed) the thoughts of his patron's kindness, and the love he bore the child, induced him to nod a tolerably unwilling "yes!"

The conversation soon flagged. Wagner, who did not seem to rely much on his guest's social qualities, soon returned to his drawing, and Aenne'i rolled some dry chesnuts on the table before the silent and good-tempered Friedli. Knowing well the desire of the child, Gottfried drew his knife from his pocket, cut open the shells, and commenced carving all sorts of figures in the soft fruit with wonderfu exactness and beauty. These figures, reade, are not all destroyed even now, for they may be seen at Berne to this very cay. A wonderful stillness came over the chamber. Aenneli sat close by the artist and watched his wondrons skill thoughtfully-a skill the more astonishing when the rudeness of the fingers which produced the delicate forms is considered: suddenly a sharp puil at the bell rang through the vaulted hall, and very soon after this a little, old, natty man, with great rimmed spectacles, toddled into the room, threw himse f stormily on the neck of the merchant, and wiped all the powder from his hair in the ecstasy of his embrace with his sleeve. Coughing, the other wound himself from this fiery salute, and was about to in quire the joyfut reason of this stormy call,

complete. Not a single plate is wanting." Who? what?"

[ocr errors]

"Who? what a question! Wenzeslaus Hollar, to be sure; the whole series from 1625, from the Virgin and Child,' and the

Ecce Homo,' the Arundel Gallery,' the African engraving, &c., &c., down to i:is last engravings of February, 1677, and you know he died on the 28th of March."

[ocr errors]

"Indeed, this is certainly curious."

"Oh but, Wagner, don't be so deuced cold. I really think you are jealous of my good fortun. Of course it is curious. In all the world there are not three persons-not one who can compete with me! The whole of Wenzel Hollar. I wanted four pieces to it; and where did I find them? Where? Only think; here, sir, here! Here, in the Baker's Inn, at Berne. Here, sir, they were, only an hour ago, in a dark corridor-yellow, smoky, miserably framed. Eh, man, you did not dream of that. You did not think Berne contained such treasures. But listen. I was sitting in my room with a heavy heart, and looking over the catalogue of the Pestalozzi collection, which is to be sold the day after to-morrow-and where, by the way, you mustn't bid against me; and I was weighing the proba ility of the Rembrant Uitenboguerd being veri able. 'No,' I cried, it is not true, but a copy. There are but ten real Goldwagers, and one of these I possess' In my rage I snuffed the candle out, felt my way to the door, got down to the lanthoin in the passage, lighted my candle again, lost my way, and got into a pa-sage of the old house where I had never been before, and there they were all four of them together-cracked glasses and broken frames; it was a pitiful sigin indeed. An avalanche was nothing to the rush I felt at my heart. 1 crept back quietly, put some powder in a glass, and drank in order to overcome the beating at my heart. I rang for the landlord. In a century of fifteen minutes he came. 'My bill, Her Sprungli.' What, M. Orell, so soon! I thought you intended to

« ¡è͹˹éÒ´Óà¹Ô¹¡ÒõèÍ
 »