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WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS

James Russell Lowell

[A few remarks on the following verses will not be out of place. The

satire in them was not meant to have any personal, but only a general,

application. Of the gentleman upon whose letter they were intended as a

commentary Mr. Biglow had never heard, till he saw the letter itself.

The position of the satirist is oftentimes one which he would not have

chosen, had the election been left to himself. In attacking bad

principles, he is obliged to select some individual who has made himself

their exponent, and in whom they are impersonate, to the end that what

he says may not, through ambiguity, be dissipated _tenues in auras._ For

what says Seneca? _Longum iter per præcepta, breve et efficace per

exempla_. A bad principle is comparatively harmless while it continues

to be an abstraction, nor can the general mind comprehend it fully till

it is printed in that large type which all men can read at sight,

namely, the life and character, the sayings and doings, of particular

persons. It is one of the cunningest fetches of Satan, that he never

exposes himself directly to our arrows, but, still dodging behind this

neighbor or that acquaintance, compels us to wound him through them, if

at all. He holds our affections as hostages, the while he patches up a

truce with our conscience.

 

Meanwhile, let us not forget that the aim of the true satirist is not to

be severe upon persons, but only upon falsehood, and, as Truth and

Falsehood start from the same point, and sometimes even go along

together for a little way, his business is to follow the path of the

latter after it diverges, and to show her floundering in the bog at the

end of it. Truth is quite beyond the reach of satire. There is so brave

a simplicity in her, that she can no more be made ridiculous than an oak

or a pine. The danger of the satirist is, that continual use may deaden

his sensibility to the force of language. He becomes more and more

liable to strike harder than he knows or intends. He may be careful to

put on his boxing-gloves, and yet forget that, the older they grow, the

more plainly may the knuckles inside be felt. Moreover, in the heat of

contest, the eye is insensibly drawn to the crown of victory, whose

tawdry tinsel glitters through that dust of the ring which obscures

Truth's wreath of simple leaves. I have sometimes thought that my young

friend, Mr. Biglow, needed a monitory hand laid on his arm,--_aliquid

sufflaminandus erat_. I have never thought it good husbandry to water

the tender plants of reform with _aqua fortis_, yet, where so much is to

do in the beds, he were a sorry gardener who should wage a whole day's

war with an iron scuffle on those ill weeds that make the garden-walks

of life unsightly, when a sprinkle of Attic salt will wither them up.

_Est ars etiam maledicendi_, says Scaliger, and truly it is a hard thing

to say where the graceful gentleness of the lamb merges in downright

sheepishness. We may conclude with worthy and wise Dr. Fuller, that 'one

may be a lamb in private wrongs, but in hearing general affronts to

goodness they are asses which are not lions.'--H.W.]

 

 

Guvener B. is a sensible man;

He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks;

He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can,

An' into nobody's tater-patch pokes;

But John P.

Robinson he

Sez be wunt vote fer Guvener B.

 

My! aint it terrible? Wut shall we du?

We can't never choose him o' course,--thet's flat;

Guess we shall hev to come round, (don't you?)

An' go in fer thunder an' guns, an' all that;

Fer John P.

Robinson he

Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B.

 

Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man:

He's ben on all sides thet gives places or pelf;

But consistency still wuz a part of his plan,--

He's ben true to _one_ party,--an' thet is himself;--

So John P.

Robinson he

Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C.

 

Gineral C. he goes in fer the war;

He don't vally princerple more'n an old cud;

Wut did God make us raytional creeturs fer,

But glory an' gunpowder, plunder an' blood?

So John P.

Robinson he

Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C.

 

We were gittin' on nicely up here to our village,

With good old idees o' wut's right an' wut aint,

We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage,

An' thet eppyletts worn't the best mark of a saint;

But John P.

Robinson he

Sez this kind o' thing's an exploded idee.

 

The side of our country must ollers be took,

An' Presidunt Polk, you know, _he_ is our country.

An' the angel thet writes all our sins in a book

Puts the _debit_ to him, an' to us the _per contry;_

An' John P.

Robinson he

Sez this is his view o' the thing to a T.

 

Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies;

Sez they're nothin' on airth but jest _fee, faw, fum;_

An' thet all this big talk of our destinies

Is half on it ign'ance, an' t'other half rum;

But John P.

Robinson he

Sez it aint no sech thing: an' of course, so must we.

 

Parson Wilbur sez _he_ never heerd in his life

Thet th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats,

An' marched round in front of a drum an' a fife,

To git some on 'em office, an' some on 'em votes;

But John P.

Robinson he

Sez they didn't know everythin' down in Judee.

 

Wal, it's a marcy we've gut folks to tell us

The rights an' the wrongs o' these matters, I vow,--

God sends country lawyers, an' other wise fellers,

To start the world's team wen it gits in a slough;

Fer John P.

Robinson he

Sez the world'll go right, ef he hollers out Gee!

 

 

[The attentive reader will doubtless have perceived in the foregoing

poem an allusion to that pernicious sentiment,--'Our country, right or

wrong.' It is an abuse of language to call a certain portion of land,

much more, certain personages, elevated for the time being to high

station, our country. I would not sever nor loosen a single one of those

ties by which we are united to the spot of our birth, nor minish by a

tittle the respect due to the Magistrate. I love our own Bay State too

well to do the one, and as for the other, I have myself for nigh forty

years exercised, however unworthily, the function of Justice of the

Peace, having been called thereto by the unsolicited kindness of that

most excellent man and upright patriot, Caleb Strong. _Patriæ fumus

igne alieno luculentior_ is best qualified with this,--_Ubi libertas, ibi

patria_. We are inhabitants of two worlds, and owe a double, but not a

divided, allegiance. In virtue of our clay, this little ball of earth

exacts a certain loyalty of us, while, in our capacity as spirits, we

are admitted citizens of an invisible and holier fatherland. There is a

patriotism of the soul whose claim absolves us from our other and

terrene fealty. Our true country is that ideal realm which we represent

to ourselves under the names of religion, duty, and the like. Our

terrestrial organizations are but far-off approaches to so fair a model,

and all they are verily traitors who resist not any attempt to divert

them from this their original intendment. When, therefore, one would

have us to fling up our caps and shout with the multitude,--'_Our

country, however bounded!_' he demands of us that we sacrifice the

larger to the less, the higher to the lower, and that we yield to the

imaginary claims of a few acres of soil our duty and privilege as

liegemen of Truth. Our true country is bounded on the north and the

south, on the east and the west, by Justice, and when she oversteps that

invisible boundary-line by so much as a hair's-breadth, she ceases to be

our mother, and chooses rather to be looked upon _quasi noverca_. That

is a hard choice when our earthly love of country calls upon us to tread

one path and our duty points us to another. We must make as noble and

becoming an election as did Penelope between Icarius and Ulysses.

Veiling our faces, we must take silently the hand of Duty to follow her.

 

Shortly after the publication of the foregoing poem, there appeared some

comments upon it in one of the public prints which seemed to call for

animadversion. I accordingly addressed to Mr. Buckingham, of the Boston

Courier, the following letter.

 

 

JAALAM, November 4, 1847.

 

'_To the Editor of the Courier:_

 

'RESPECTED SIR,--Calling at the post-office this morning, our worthy and

efficient postmaster offered for my perusal a paragraph in the Boston

Morning Post of the 3d instant, wherein certain effusions of the

pastoral muse are attributed to the pen of Mr. James Russell Lowell. For

aught I know or can affirm to the contrary, this Mr. Lowell may be a

very deserving person and a youth of parts (though I have seen verses of

his which I could never rightly understand); and if he be such, he, I am

certain, as well as I, would be free from any proclivity to appropriate

to himself whatever of credit (or discredit) may honestly belong to

another. I am confident, that, in penning these few lines, I am only

forestalling a disclaimer from that young gentleman, whose silence

hitherto, when rumor pointed to himward, has excited in my bosom mingled

emotions of sorrow and surprise. Well may my young parishioner, Mr.

Biglow, exclaim with the poet,

 

"Sic vos non vobis," &c.;

 

though, in saying this, I would not convey the impression that he is a

proficient in the Latin tongue,--the tongue, I might add, of a Horace

and a Tully.

 

'Mr. B. does not employ his pen, I can safely say, for any lucre of

worldly gain, or to be exalted by the carnal plaudits of men, _digito

monstrari, &c_. He does not wait upon Providence for mercies, and in his

heart mean _merces_. But I should esteem myself as verily deficient in

my duty (who am his friend and in some unworthy sort his spiritual

_fidus Achates_, &c.), if I did not step forward to claim for him

whatever measure of applause might be assigned to him by the judicious.

 

'If this were a fitting occasion, I might venture here a brief

dissertation touching the manner and kind of my young friend's poetry.

But I dubitate whether this abstruser sort of speculation (though

enlivened by some apposite instances from Aristophanes) would

sufficiently interest your oppidan readers. As regards their satirical

tone, and their plainness of speech, I will only say, that, in my

pastoral experience, I have found that the Arch-Enemy loves nothing

better than to be treated as a religious, moral, and intellectual being,

and that there is no _apage Sathanas!_ so potent as ridicule. But it is

a kind of weapon that must have a button of good-nature on the point of

it.

 

'The productions of Mr. B. have been stigmatized in some quarters as

unpatriotic; but I can vouch that he loves his native soil with that

hearty, though discriminating, attachment which springs from an intimate

social intercourse of many years' standing. In the ploughing season, no

one has a deeper share in the well-being of the country than he. If Dean

Swift were right in saying that he who makes two blades of grass grow

where one grew before confers a greater benefit on the state than he who

taketh a city, Mr. B. might exhibit a fairer claim to the Presidency

than General Scott himself. I think that some of those disinterested

lovers of the hard-handed democracy, whose fingers have never touched

anything rougher than the dollars of our common country, would hesitate

to compare palms with him. It would do your heart good, respected Sir,

to see that young man mow. He cuts a cleaner and wider swath than any in

this town.

 

'But it is time for me to be at my Post. It is very clear that my young

friend's shot has struck the lintel, for the Post is shaken (Amos ix.

1). The editor of that paper is a strenuous advocate of the Mexican war,

and a colonel, as I am given to understand. I presume, that, being

necessarily absent in Mexico, he has left his journal in some less

judicious hands. At any rate, the Post has been too swift on this

occasion. It could hardly have cited a more incontrovertible line from

any poem than that which it has selected for animadversion, namely,--

 

"We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage."

 

'If the Post maintains the converse of this proposition, it can hardly

be considered as a safe guide-post for the moral and religious portions

of its party, however many other excellent qualities of a post it may be

blessed with. There is a sign in London on which is painted,--"The Green

Man." It would do very well as a portrait of any individual who should

support so unscriptural a thesis. As regards the language of the line

in question, I am bold to say that He who readeth the hearts of men will

not account any dialect unseemly which conveys a sound, and pious

sentiment. I could wish that such sentiments were more common, however

uncouthly expressed. Saint Ambrose affirms, that _veritas a quocunque_

(why not, then, _quomodocunque?) dicatur, a, spiritu sancto est_. Digest

also this of Baxter: "The plainest words are the most profitable oratory

in the weightiest matters."

 

'When the paragraph in question was shown to Mr. Biglow, the only part

of it which seemed to give him any dissatisfaction was that which

classed him with the Whig party. He says, that, if resolutions are a

nourishing kind of diet, that party must be in a very hearty and

flourishing condition; for that they have quietly eaten more good ones

of their own baking than he could have conceived to be possible without

repletion. He has been for some years past (I regret to say) an ardent

opponent of those sound doctrines of protective policy which form so

prominent a portion of the creed of that party. I confess, that, in some

discussions which I have had with him on this point in my study, he has

displayed a vein of obstinacy which I had not hitherto detected in his

composition. He is also (_horresco referens_) infected in no small

measure with the peculiar notions of a print called the Liberator, whose

heresies I take every proper opportunity of combating, and of which, I

thank God, I have never read a single line.

 

'I did not see Mr. B.'s verses until they appeared in print, and there

_is_ certainly one thing in them which I consider highly improper. I

allude to the personal references to myself by name. To confer notoriety

on an humble individual who is laboring quietly in his vocation, and who

keeps his cloth as free as he can from the dust of the political arena

(though _voe mihi si non evangelizavero_), is no doubt an indecorum. The

sentiments which he attributes to me I will not deny to be mine. They

were embodied, though in a different form, in a discourse preached upon

the last day of public fasting, and were acceptable to my entire people

(of whatever political views), except the postmaster, who dissented _ex

officio_. I observe that you sometimes devote a portion of your paper to

a religious summary. I should be well pleased to furnish a copy of my

discourse for insertion in this department of your instructive journal.

By omitting the advertisements, it might easily be got within the limits

of a single number, and I venture to insure you the sale of some scores

of copies in this town. I will cheerfully render myself responsible for

ten. It might possibly be advantageous to issue it as an _extra_. But

perhaps you will not esteem it an object, and I will not press it. My

offer does not spring from any weak desire of seeing my name in print;

for I can enjoy this satisfaction at any time by turning to the

Triennial Catalogue of the University, where it also possesses that

added emphasis of Italics with which those of my calling are

distinguished.

 

'I would simply add, that I continue to fit ingenuous youth for college,

and that I have two spacious and airy sleeping apartments at this moment

unoccupied. _Ingenuas didicisse_, &c. Terms, which vary according to the

circumstances of the parents, may be known on application to me by

letter, post-paid. In all cases the lad will be expected to fetch his

own towels. This rule, Mrs. W. desires me to add, has no exceptions.

 

'Respectfully, your obedient servant,

 

'HOMER WILBUR, A.M.

 

'P.S. Perhaps the last paragraph may look like an attempt to obtain the

insertion of my circular gratuitously. If it should appear to you in

that light, I desire that you would erase it, or charge for it at the

usual rates, and deduct the amount from the proceeds in your hands from

the sale of my discourse, when it shall be printed. My circular is much

longer and more explicit, and will be forwarded without charge to any

who may desire it. It has been very neatly executed on a letter sheet,

by a very deserving printer, who attends upon my ministry, and is a

creditable specimen of the typographic art. I have one hung over my

mantelpiece in a neat frame, where it makes a beautiful and appropriate

ornament, and balances the profile of Mrs. W., cut with her toes by the

young lady born without arms.

 

'H.W.'

 

 

I have in the foregoing letter mentioned General Scott in connection

with the Presidency, because I have been given to understand that he has

blown to pieces and otherwise caused to be destroyed more Mexicans than

any other commander. His claim would therefore be deservedly considered

the strongest. Until accurate returns of the Mexicans killed, wounded,

and maimed be obtained, it will be difficult to settle these nice points

of precedence. Should it prove that any other officer has been more

meritorious and destructive than General S., and has thereby rendered

himself more worthy of the confidence and support of the conservative

portion of our community, I shall cheerfully insert his name, instead of

that of General S., in a future edition. It may be thought, likewise,

that General S. has invalidated his claims by too much attention to the

decencies of apparel, and the habits belonging to a gentleman. These

abstruser points of statesmanship are beyond my scope. I wonder not that

successful military achievement should attract the admiration of the

multitude. Rather do I rejoice with wonder to behold how rapidly this

sentiment is losing its hold upon the popular mind. It is related of

Thomas Warton, the second of that honored name who held the office of

Poetry Professor at Oxford, that, when one wished to find him, being

absconded, as was his wont, in some obscure alehouse, he was counselled

to traverse the city with a drum and fife, the sound of which inspiring

music would be sure to draw the Doctor from his retirement into the

street. We are all more or less bitten with this martial insanity.

_Nescio qua dulcedine ... cunctos ducit_. I confess to some infection of

that itch myself. When I see a Brigadier-General maintaining his

insecure elevation in the saddle under the severe fire of the

training-field, and when I remember that some military enthusiasts,

through haste, inexperience, or an over-desire to lend reality to those

fictitious combats, will sometimes discharge their ramrods, I cannot but

admire, while I deplore, the mistaken devotion of those heroic officers.

_Semel insanivimus omnes_. I was myself, during the late war with Great

Britain, chaplain of a regiment, which was fortunately never called to

active military duty. I mention this circumstance with regret rather

than pride. Had I been summoned to actual warfare, I trust that I might

have been strengthened to bear myself after the manner of that reverend

father in our New England Israel, Dr. Benjamin Colman, who, as we are

told in Turell's life of him, when the vessel in which he had taken

passage for England was attacked by a French privateer, 'fought like a

philosopher and a Christian, ... and prayed all the while he charged and

fired.' As this note is already long, I shall not here enter upon a

discussion of the question, whether Christians may lawfully be soldiers.

I think it sufficiently evident, that, during the first two centuries of

the Christian era, at least, the two professions were esteemed

incompatible. Consult Jortin on this head,--H.W.]

 

 

 

No. IV