Paul, and Luther, and Wesley, preached to the poor and needy as well as to the refined and elegant, to publicans and sinners as well as to Pharisees and saints. The religion of Christ, if we understand it, is fit for all men, not for gentlemen only; and when he laid aside his glory, to assume the form of a servant, did he think about his 'respectability' in the eyes of men? Did he not, on the contrary, become the humble Nazarene,' the most despised individual of the most despised race upon earth? Oh, that with still greater meekness, and patience, and humility, we could only tread in his hallowed footsteps! Others are welcome, and more than welcome, to all the religion of respectability. It was a great sin in us, we confess, but we did lose our patience when our old friend warned us so eloquently that we were about to sacrifice our 'respectability.' We did feel, moving in our bosoms, something like the floods of irony and scorn, which Carlyle has, in one of his most eloquent papers, so profanely poured out on the mundane glory of 'gigmanity.' We became absolutely poetical on the occasion. But, as we lacked the power of expression, so we could give vent to our poetical feelings only in these words: · Sweet respectability-la! O respectability-bah!' But all this, as we now see clearly, only betrayed the weakness of our hearts, which, instead of having been moved to indignation and contempt by the words of the learned doctor, should have been penetrated only by a feeling of the profoundest pity. We are so now, and, consequently, we shall never expend another 'la,' nor another 'bah,' on the learned doctor. We only wish he had a little more Methodism in his heart, or, in other words, a little more 'religion in earnest.' It might, perhaps, detract from his 'respectability' in the eyes of man, but not in the sight of God. In conclusion, we know a man who has travelled the same road, precisely, as the one pursued by the hero of our religious romance, but he travelled it in the diametrically opposite direction. The one was a Methodist in search of the Church, the other was a Churchman in search of the truth. The last was 6 unlike the first, for, without knowing whither the road led, or in what it would land him, he simply followed it, step by step, determined to accept the result-nay, determined to be turned aside by nothing, however alarming, and to shrink from nothing, however appalling, if so he might only find the object of his search. Not for 'six weeks' only, but for more than six years, he trod the obscure path with incredible toil, until, at last, he believed he had found the truth. Then, although very dry and unpoetical by nature, the glad Eureka rang out in these lines: 'Hail, star-eyed Truth! or ere the world was formed, Or aught created ere, had leave to be, The bosom of the mighty God was warmed By thy resplendent charms; who, unto thee, The homage paid of boundless ecstacy: With glory in thine eye, and music on thy tongue.' through But, after But then came the reaction. Humiliation and sorrow succeeded to the first transport of joy. When the road seemed to lead to the Church, he rejoiced; when it seemed to lead away from the Church, he was sad and depressed. But still he followed the road, lead whithersoever it might gladness or through gloom, to glory or to shame. his first glad Eureka was shouted, how great was how deep his humiliation and sorrow, to find that he must bid a long farewell to the ministry of the Church! How great was his surprise, too, when, on waking the next morning, he found that he was a Methodist. He did not go in search of this; nevertheless, this is what he found. his grief, This inquirer will, ere long, write an article for the Southern Review, explaining how it was that, by the force of truth, he was compelled to abandon his high and honorable position in the ministry of the Church. He will give, not only his conclusions, but also his reasons, that all men may, if they choose, judge for themselves of the rectitude of his mind, and the soundness of his views. Having given every step and every process by which his conclusions were reached, he will then challenge the champions of the Church, one and all, to answer his arguments if they can, assuring them that, until these be answered, no slights, no insults, no calumnies, and no lies, can move him. Let these be answered, and he will acknowledge his errors. Otherwise he will continue to wear, as a crown of thorns,' all the slights, insults, calumnies, and lies, which men may be pleased to heap upon him, in the full hope and joyous expectation of the crown of glory.' ART. IV.-The Life of Abraham Lincoln; from his Birth to his Inauguration as President. By Ward H. Lamon. With illustrations. Boston: James R. Osgood & Co. 1872. Pp. 547. Some persons will think it a great honor, and some a great disgrace, that we have lived eight long years in the same region with Abraham Lincoln, and held almost daily intercourse with him at the Bar. We think it neither an honor nor a disgrace. We regard it, on the contrary, merely a piece of good fortune, that we have had the opportunity of seeing, scrutinizing, and forming an opinion of one of the most extraordinary human beings that has figured in history. The world will, perhaps, know him a little better because we have known him. He was, take him all in all, one of the most incomprehensible personages we have ever known. He was, indeed, so little like other men, that other men could not penetrate the mystery of his peculiar make and mode of being. The little men about him- the Herndons of Illinois-thought they understood him, because they were always at his elbow; and forthwith, as soon as he was dead, set up as great oracles to let all the world know what manner of man Abraham Lincoln was. But while they understood all that was little, and low, and mean in his character, there was much that reached beyond the range of their vision. It is an old saying, and true as it is old, that no man is a hero to his valet'; but, as Hegel has well said, 'it is the fault of the valet.' It was the fault of Mr. Herndon, that he had no soul, no mind, no eye for the really remarkable qualities of Mr. Lincoln. Hence, valet though he was, he thinks himself a much greater man than his hero. 'Lincoln,' says he,' was a natural antislavery man, as I think, and yet he needed watching.' So, in other places, he represents himself as keeping Mr. Lincoln, as watching and training him, and preparing him for his great career,' when the time should arrive to put him on the racetrack of glory, allowing him to enter neither too soon nor too late to win, but just in the nick of time. The world is thus given to understand that it owes Abraham Lincoln to William H. Herndon (no very great obligation, perhaps,) his quondam law-partner. We wonder how Colonel Lamon, whose Life of Lincoln contains many similar statements, reconciled them with a decent regard for the character of his hero. Again, says Mr. Herndon, Lincoln 'needed hope, faith, energy, and I think I warmed him. Lincoln and I were just the opposites of one another. He was cautious and practical; I spontaneous, ideal, and speculative. He arrived at truths by reflection, I by intuition; he by reason, I by my soul. He calculated; I went to toil asking no questions, never doubting. Lincoln had great faith in my intuitions, and I had great faith in his reason.' Only he needed watching.' Thus, according to Mr. Herndon, Lincoln was the cold, creeping, calculating reasoner; while he was the warm, spontaneous, glowing, and gifted seer. The hero lacked 'faith, hope, energy'; the valet, possessing all these in superabundance, warmed the hero into a higher and nobler life. The one had to reason his way to truths slowly; the other reached them at once by a simple flight of his intuitional soul, or 'faculty divine.' It would have been much nearer the truth if Mr. Herndon had said, Mr. Lincoln was real, and I was ideal; he was a substance, and I his shadow. Yet, after all, there may be some truth in Mr. Herndon's statement, for several very superstitious men, such as Mr. Lincoln is well known to have been, have been known to consult even idiots as oracles. Mr. Lincoln had great faith in the mad-stone.' Why, then, might he not also have great faith in a mad-cap? Mr. Lincoln had great faith in spirit-rapping and revelations. Why, then, should he not look upon Mr. Herndon as a medium?' How else, indeed, can we account for his having kept such a fellow in partnership with him for more than a quarter of a century? The testimony of the Hon. John T. Stuart, of Springfield, who is no valet, but a gentleman, is valuable. He honestly confesses that the character of Mr. Lincoln was always a puzzle, an enigma, a mystery to him. So has it always been to us, though the Life before us clears away much of the darkness. It has taught us, at least, one great lesson-the lesson of humility. What signifies it as a matter of pride to us, as men of thought, that we can follow, step by step, the sublime process by which the mechanism of the material universe is unveiled, and all its glory laid bare, if, after all, we find ourselves, as we do, absolutely overwhelmed and confounded by the mysteries of the single monad, Honest Old Abe?" When the mathematician finds a problem beyond the reach of his analysis, he effects its solution, as nearly as he can, by means of approximations. We must, in like manner, deal with the question of Mr. Lincoln's character. We must, in other words, honestly and simply state the things which we do know about him, and leave all the rest in the dim, dark background of our ignorance. This will not, it is true, give a satisfactory portrait of the man. But this need not alarm us as Mr. Lincoln was alarmed, when he happened to see his 'face reflected double in a mirror.' Man is, says Mr. Hume, 'a bundle of contradictions.' According to this definition, we are inclined to think that Mr. Lincoln, no less than Mr. Hume himself, was a very great man. It is certain, that if we would 2 1 'When his son Bob,' says Mrs. Wallace, his sister-in-law, 'was supposed to have been bitten by a rabid dog, Mr. Lincoln took him to Terre Haute, Ind., where there was a mad-stone, with the intention of having it applied, and, it is presumed, did so.' Lamon's Life, p. 503, note. 2 Lamon's Life. |