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850 ¦' ¦ . :."• • ¦ .TWE ' IfE ADIE R.; ...
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DRED. Dred: a Tale. By the Author of " U...
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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Some People's Constancy Is Never So Much...
aa he is , oas ^ cumig the best berth himself j ana , passing o a graver mood it indicates the inexhaustible store of speculation , meditation , and reverential emotion that is unlocked for us in the study of Life , as it presents itself in the simpler organisms . The series of papers headed , lJie Scot Abroad , ' has a continuation , or rather a supplement , in an article . on diplomatic Scotchmen . ; there are ' Sketches on the Way to Stockholm , ' which will perhaps give a useful hint here and there to people vrho are looking out for a less hackneyed tour than the Rhine country and Switzerland ; ' A Brookside Dialogue , ' -with a descriptive introduction , much better tlan the dialogue itself ; an article on The Poetry of Christian Art ; ' one on' Macaulay , ' defensive-of Scotland , Scotchmen , and Calvinism , against the epigrammatic severity of the historian . The writer is indignant , not only with Macaciay , but with Dickens and Maurice and Kingsi ^ ey , because they ' calumniate' Calvinism , and he winds up by assuring " Mr . Macaui / Ay that he "will but splinter his lance if he tries it upon the shield of adamant
which defends from every weapon of oflfence a true and pure religion "—a statement which Mr . Macauiat would hardly deny . Suppose we were to tell a Scotchman that , ' with all deference' we considered the singing in Scotch churches to be little better than howling , and he were to reply , tha t we should but splinter our lance if we tried it against pure and dulcet harmony , ' —what would the writer think of his countryman ' s logic ? We have left ourselves no room to speak of the Dublin U ? iiversify Magazine , which has its Natural History article of course ; contends against a New Translation of the Bible ; ' gives some sketches from the history of ' The Irish in Spain , ' in which the reader may perhaps learn something more than he knows at present about General O'Donheli . and his family ; discusses in a thorough and interesting way * The United States Navy ; ' and has its tales for the tale-loving .
850 ¦' ¦ . :."• • ¦ .Twe ' Ife Adie R.; ...
850 ¦' ¦ . :. "• • ¦ . TWE ' IfE ADIE R . ; [ No , 33 ^ Saxctkda ^ ,
Dred. Dred: A Tale. By The Author Of " U...
DRED . Dred : a Tale . By the Author of " Uncle Tom ' s Cabin . " Sampson , low . In this story the action of the Cholera is far more powerful than the action of Slavery . Of course Mrs . Stowe could not produce the companion of Uncle Tom , or float her popularity upon the passions of tie forthcoming election , without drawing a red-and-bhick picture of manners as influenced by the peculiar institution ; but the sense of niisery whiqh , with the susceptible , will be the effect oF reading Dred , will arise chiefly from the tragedy of CanemaV with which . Slavery has nothing ' .- to do . It is only late in the book , indeed , that the negro enthusiast is introduced ; his preachings , his acts , his fate belong almost to a separate narration . The light of the story is Nina , Dred is the shadow ybut their , destinies are wholly apart , the one being in no way related by circumstance to the other , so that the
lady of Canema , upon whose portrait so much elaboration is bestowed , is a mere insignificance as long as the historical conspiracy is under notice , -while the conspiracy * which gives the work its name , is totally unnecessary so far as the interest of Nina ' s life and character is concerned . The result is , not simplicity , but confusion . It is difficult to understand wliy so many personages are introduced , and we have found it impossible to suggest any artistic reason for the concentration of pathos upon a death from cholera in a tale that has been written with so fierce a purpose . That purpose has been , unmistakably , to publish a volume that will be scattered over America by the Abolitionist simoon that is expected to rise at the approaching election . In her preface , Mrs . Stowe takes advantage of the assault upon Mr .
Sumner to indite a bitter paragraph about " the senator of a sovereign state , struck down , unarmed and unsuspecting , by a cowardly blow , and while thus prostrate , still beaten by the dastard arm -which had learned its skill in a South Carolina plantation . " The Kansas conflict , and the St . Lawrence disasters , with an allusion to " the British Lion led in cotton bands , " adroitly introduced to flatter " the party in America who in the coming election are to make a stand against this tremendous evil , " and to rally the public in England , which has no faith in abstract principles anywhere but across the Atlantic . Emphatically , Mrs . Stowe ' s new novel has many of the qualities of a pamphlet , and it is made up more of assertion tlian of proof . It is unscrupulous in this sense—that it amasses a number of exceptional and excessive instances , and presents them as a picture of the Soutlu
Regarded simply as a novel , Di'ed is an imitation—a clever imitation— 'Of Uncle Tom ' s Cabin . Of course , it is not a repetition of the story , but of the idea : it is equally full of sensuous descriptions of material luxury 4 there is an attempt to remould Topsy in a masculine form ; Nina , fades into a sort of Eva on her death-bed ; a perceptible anxiet y is manifested to render Clayton—a cold mass of formality—unlike St . Clare ; old Tiff is a more lively Uncle Tom ; Harry and Lisette are , in a great degree , reproductions of George and Eliza . Dred alone is new , and his character is described with no inconsiderable power . Hunted into a refuge in the Great Dismal Swamp , inspired by oppression , possessed of an almost unearthly passion for revenge , he fills liis memory with all the anathemas of David and the Prophets , and pours them out , in text and verse , among the conspirators who
have followed him to his seclusion . He has witnessed an outrage , sanctioned oy alave law , upon Henry the Quadroon , who manages the Gordon plantations , and exerts all his eloquence to entice him into the negro plot . Soon aitorvarda , upon the death of the young mistress of Canenia , the plantations , lands , and staves pass into the possession of a Legree in Ms own right , and bero tue transition takes place from the bright to the black romance of Dred . Nma , daughter of Colonel Gordon , is left solo mistress of Cancma : but , her knowledge being confined to a perfect appreciation of herself , and of the silks , Iace 8 , andfto 88 e 8 that adorn her beauty , Henry , the educated quadroon , » . " »™» 8 W « f . tjo estates . To Canoma comes Tom Gordon , jealous of his sisters authority and of Henry ' s-wife , and a feud of blood arises between 5 rSSf T ^ l \ , ° ^ m 58 t ™ 3 . It Is by thia machinery that Dred ia rendered necessary , thou gh as long m the lady of Caaema exercises her
mild sway , the negroes on the plantation have a protectress . The cholera arrives , and Nina exercises a healing charity . The " last-scene of all then opens like a surprise . It is in the presence of Clayton , who has aright to call her " my rose , my bride , my lanib" : — A low tap at his door at last aroused him . The door was partly open , and a little hand threw in a half-opened spray of monthly rosebuds . " There ' s something to remind you that you are yet in the body- ! " said a voice ia the entry . " If you are rested , I'll let you come down now . " And Clayton heard the light footsteps tripping down the stairs . He roused himself , and , after some Little attention to his toilet , appeared on the veianda . " Tea has been waiting for some time , " said Nina- " I thought I'd give you a hint . " " I -was lying very happy , hearing you sing , " said Clayton . " You may sing me that song again . " "Was I singing ? " said Nina ; " why , I didn't know it ! I believe that's my way of thinking sometimes . I'll sing to you again after tetw I like to sing . "
After tea they were sitting again in . the veranda , and the whole heavens were one rosy flush of filmy clouds . " How beautiful ! " said Nina . "It seems to me I've enjoyed these things , this summer , as I never have before . It seemed as if I felt an influence from them going through me , and filling me as the light does those clouds !" And as she stood looking up into the sky , she began singing again the words that Clayton had heard before" I am come from the happy land , Where sorrow is unknown ; I have parted a joyous band To make - thee mine own . " Haste , haste , fly with me , Where love's banquet waits for thee ; Thine all sweet shall be Thine , thine alone . " The summer has its heavy cloud , The rose-leaf must fall—"
She stopped her singing suddenly , left the veranda , and went into the house . " I > o you want anything ? " said Clayton . " Nothing ! " said she , hurriedly ; " I'll be back in . a moment . " Clayton watchea , and saw her go to a closet in which the medicines and cordials were kept , and take something from a gloss . : He gave a start of alarm . " You are not UI , are you ? " he said fearfully , as ste returned . ¦ ' * Oh , no ! only a little faint . We have become so prudent , you know , that if we feel the least beginning of any disagreeable sensation , we take something at once . I
have felt this faintness quite often—ltisntmuch . Clayton put his arm around her , and looked at her with a vague yearning , of fear and admiration . ' .. '' " " You look so lake a spirit , " he said , lt that I must hold you . " " Do you thinfc I have a pair of hidden wings ? " she said , smiling , and looking gaily in his face . ' : ' [' " I am tfraid so , " he said . " Do you feel quite well now ?" " Yes—I believe so- —only- —perhaps , we had better sit down . I think , perhaps , it is the reaction of so much excitement makes me feel rather tired . "
Clayton seated her on the settee by the door , still keeping his arm anxiously around her . In a few moments she drooped her head wearily on his shoulder . " You are ill ! " he said , in tones of alarm . "No ! " she said , " no ! I feel very well , only a little faint and . tired . It seems to me it is getting a little cold here , isn't it ? " she said , -with a slight shiver . Clayton took lier up in his arms without speaking , carried her in , and laid her on the sofa . Then rang for Harry and Milly . "Get a horse instantly , " he said to Harry , as booh as he appeared , " and go for a doctor . " " There ' s no use in sending , " said Nina ; "hois driven to death , and can't come . Besides , there's nothing the matter witli me , only I am a little tired and cold . Shut the door 3 and windows , and cover mo up . No , no ! don't take me up-stairs ; I like to lie here . Just put a shawl over me , that ' s all—I am thirsty—give me some ¦ water . "
The fearful and mysterious disease , which was then in the ascendant , ha 3 many forms of approach and development . One , and tho most deadly , is that which takes place when a person has so long and gradually imbibed the fatal poisons of an infected atmosphere , that the resisting powers of nature have been insidiously and quietly subdued , so that the subject sinks under it , without any violent outward symptom , by a quiet and certain yielding of the vital powers ; sucli as has been likened to the bleeding to death by an internal wound . In this caao , before an hour had passed , though none of the violent and distressing symptoms of the disease appeared , it became evident that the sea . 1 of death -was set ou that fair young brow . A messenger had been despatched , riding with the desperate speed which love and fear can give , but Harry remained in attendance . " Nothingis tlio matter with me—nothingis the matter , " she said , " except fatigue , and this change in the weather ; if I only had more over mo—and perhaps you had better give me a little brandy , or some such thing . This is water , isn't it , that you have been giving me ?"
Alas , it was the strongest brandy , but there was no tasto , and the hartshorn that they were holding had no smell . And there -was no change in the weather ; it was only the creeping dcadness affecting the whole outer and inner membranes of tho system . Yet , still her voice remained clear , though her mind occasionally -wandered . There i 3 a strange impulse which sometimes come 3 in the restlessness and distress of dissolving nntine to sing , and as she lay with her oye 3 closed , apparently in a sort of trance , she would sing over and over again tho verse of tho song which she was singing when tho blow of tho unseen destroyer first struck her : " Tho summer hatli its heavy cloud , The rose-leaf must fall ; But in our hand joy wears 310 shroud—Never doth it pall . " At last she opened her eyes , and seeing tho agony of all around , tho truth socmed to come to hex .
1 think Tin called , " she said . " Oh ! I ' m so sorry for you all . Don't griovo so . My Father loves mo so well , Ho cannot spare mo any longer . Ho wants me . to coino to Him—that ' s all . Don't grievo so . It ' a home I ' m going to—home . 'Twill be only a little while , and you'll come too , all of you . You aro satisfied , are you not , Edward ?" And again she relapsed into the dreamy tranco , nnd sang- in that strange awect voice , so low , so weak— " In our land joy wears no shroud—Novor doth it pall . " Clayton , what did . ho ? "What could ho do ? What havo a . ny of U 9 dQ » o , who havo
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Citation
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Leader (1850-1860), Sept. 6, 1856, page 16, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_06091856/page/16/
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