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Front matter

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Contents

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Reminiscences of the Seventies — Alaska — Hendricks, Voorhees and Rise-Up-William Allen at Democratic Rally 240

Wise and Beneficent Laws — Class Legislation — Protection — Election of United States Senators by the People — Capital and Labor 245

Chapter I. Introductory

The problem of perennial happiness is one the solution of which mnst be relegated to another and higher world ; for it seems to have been foreordained that while on this terrestrial sphere we must alternately chew the cud of sweet and bitter fancies. As to the bitter, it may be said, that while we cannot kill the wasp we may at least soften the venom of its sting. We recall the self-evident assertion of Hobbs that there is no such thing as perpetual tranquillity of mind while we live here, because life itself is but motion, and can never be without desire, nor without fear, no more than without sense.

The mark at which we all aim is happiness. The sacredness and universality of the right to do so is emphasized in our immortal Declaration of Independence.

It is believed that the nearest approach to true happiness is found midway between the extremes of unrestrained gaiety and melancholy discomfort, but this inequality of moods is almost inevitable where there is a large preponderance of sensibility.

Eeading, observation, and reflection have taught us many things : our happiness will always be found within a narrow compass, and amidst the objects more immediately within our reach. That all happiness dwells more in the hope than in the possession. That enjoyments to be adequately prized must be of rare occurrence; as no one can set a proper value on pleasures which he tastes CTcry day. To recognize the propriety and necessity of friends but, if you wish to be happy, to have no superfluous ties. Mr. Lincoln, though of the most kindly and generous nature, was slow to acquire intimacies, and had few close friendships. That love is absolutely essential to happiness; this fact is fully recognized by a great English dramatist and novelist who declared, "Some persons, I know, estimate happiness by flne houses, gardens and parks — others by pictures, horses, money and various things wholly remote from their own species; but when I wish to ascertain the real felicity of any rational man, I always inquire whom he has to love. If I find he has nobody, or does not love those he has— even in the midst of all his profusion of finery and grandeur— I pronounce him a being deep in adversity."

That conversation, especially of the loud and demonstrative variety, is not a prerequisite to happiness. There is happiness in a Quakers' meeting where the

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silence is so deep that the unsheathing of a stiletto may be heard amidst its hush. Let Charles Lamb in one of the inimitable essays of Elia portray it: "Wouldst thou know what true peace and quiet mean; wouldst thou find a refuge from the noises and clamors of the multitude; wouldst thou enjoy at once solitude and society; wouldst thou possess the depth of thine own spirit in stillness, without being shut out from the consolatory faces of thy species ; wouldst thou be alone, and yet accompanied; solitary, yet not desolate; singular, yet not without some to keep thee in countenance; a unit in aggregate ; a simple in composite : Come with me into a Quakers' meeting. * * * There are wounds which an imperfect solitude cannot heal. By imperfect I mean that which a man enjoyeth by himself. The perfect is that which he can sometimes attain in crowds, but nowhere so absolutely as in a Quakers' meeting."

That there is no more healthy state of mind than one which is as nearly as possible independent of human opinion, where one is neither elated by its attention nor soured by its neglect.

That there is nothing more unpleasant than to have your little weaknesses known.

That nothing contributes more to one's happiness than a change of condition, occupation and environment. So universal is this desire for change that Pascal was led to remark, "That if an artisan could imagine for twelve hours that he was a king, he would be almost as happy as a king who for twelve hours imagined himself an artisan."

We have also learned that the observation of Thackeray is true when he says that the world is a looking glass, and gives back to every one the reflection of his own face. Frown at it, and it will in turn look sourly upon you; laugh at it and with it and it is a jolly kind companion.

That an honest and heroic effort to eliminate from our lives, as far as possible, all worry and loss of temper is conducive to happiness. Ambassador White, in one of his walks with Count Von Bulow, alluded to a hot debate of the day before and to his suavity under

provocation, when he answered: "Old many

years ago, gave me two counsels, and I have always tried to mind them. These were *^Never worry; never lose your temper.' "

That no applause which ever reaches human ears is more grateful than that which emanates from old friends and neighbors.

That genuine friendship is impracticable between men and women, young or old. The woman either loves, is indifferent, or hates.

That the only real platonic love is that between brother and sister. Gibbon refers to this relation as "a familiar and tender friendship with a female about our own age ; an affection perhaps softened by the secret influence of sex, but pure from any mix-ture of sensual desire." He declares that this is the sole species of platonic love that can be indulged with truth and without danger.

An observation of Goethe is confirmed by the experi- 4

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ence of mankind. He affirms that all comfort in life is based upon a regular recurrence of external things. "The change of day and night, of the seasons, of flowers and fruits, and whatever else meets us from epoch to epoch; so that we can and should enjoy it — those are the proper springs of earthly life. The more open we are to those enjoyments, the happier do we feel ourselves; but if the changes in those phenomena roll up and down before us without our taking interest in them, if we are insensible to such beautiful offers, then comes on the greatest evil, the heaviest disease : we regard life as a disgusting burden." He cites the case of an Englishman who hanged himself that he might no longer dress and undress himself every day.

It must be accepted as true that all men, with rare exceptions, have their splenetic hours.

The question has been asked, what is happiness? Does it soothe, or does it excite; We use the word in its broad generic sense as applicable to every kind of enjoyment. Happiness is both elusive and delusive. An author of great ability and varied acquirements calls her the great mistress of the ceremonies in the dance of life. "That she impels us through all its mazes and meanderings, but leads none of us by the same route. Aristippus pursued her in pleasure, Socrates in wisdom, and Epicurus in both; she received the attentions of each, but bestowed her endearments on neither, although, like some other gallants, they all boasted of more favors than they had received. Warned by their failure, the stoic adopted a most paradoxical mode of preferring his suit;

he thought, by slandering, to woo her; by shunning, to win her ; and proudly presumed that, by fleeing her, she would turn and follow him.

"She is deceitful as the calm that precedes the hurricane, smooth as the waters on the verge of a cataract, and beautiful as the rainbow, that smiling daughter of the storm: but like the mirage in the desert, she tantalizes us with a delusion that distance creates and contiguity destroys. Yet, when unsought, she is often found, and, when unexpected, often obtained; while those who seek for her the most diligently fail the most, because they seek her where she is not. Anthony sought her in love; Brutus in glory; Caesar in dominion; the first found disgrace, the second disgust, the last ingratitude, and each destruction. * * * Neither is she to be won by flattery or by bribes; she is to be gained by waging war against her enemies, much sooner than by paying any particular court to herself. Those that conquer her adversaries will find that they need not go to her, for she will come unto them. * * * What detains her? She is traveling incognito to keep a private assignation with contentment, and to partake of a tete-a-tete and a dinner of herbs in a cottage."

There are brief periods of supreme happiness in the life of nearly every individual. John Bigelow, the eminent publicist and diplomatist who, at the age of ninety-four, recently started on a prolonged European tour, accompanied by his two granddaughters, declares that he was made supremely happy by his acquisition of a knowledge of the principles of homeopathy.

A verdict of not guilty when the defendant is charged ()

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with a capital offense is received by him with unalloyed satisfaction.

When Gibbon casually attended the great trial of Warren Hastings, not having yet attained the acme of his fame, he was charmed by Sheridan's eloquence — and was stirred with the most pleasurable emotion when the great orator paid him a personal compliment in the presence of the British nation, by using the phrase: "The correct periods of Tacitus, and the luminous pages of Gibbon."

What pen can adequately describe the delight of B3rron when he awoke one morning and found himself famous? Indeed, it has been said that authorial happiness is more exquisitely delightful than any other — and that an author intoxicated with success will hug his porter if there is nobody else on hand.

The accepted lover, especially after a long and arduous wooing, is in a condition of unmixed bliss — a happiness so radiant that it shines from his eyes, and is written at large upon his forehead.

One of the principal causes of discomfort is our habit of drawing drafts on the misery of futurity — melancholy usually flies to the future for its ailment. It was indeed a valuable suggestion made by an eminent mao that one should interest himself chiefly in the progress of his journey, and not look forward to its end with eagerness. He asks "How am I to enjoy this year as I ought, if I am continually wishing it over?"

Another, who had a great mastery of the laws of human happiness, had an excellent rule for the happiness and wisdom of life as to the future, not to look too far into it for inevitable though probably distant disaster. "Take short views of life, hope for the best, and trust in God." He once gave a lady two and twenty receipts against melancholy: one was a bright fire; another, to remember all the pleasant things said to and of her; another, to keep a box of sugar plums on the chimney piece, and a kettle simmering on the hob.

We are here reminded of these lines from Newman's hymn:

"I do not ask to see The distant scene; one step enough for me."

We think it is incumbent upon each and every one of us to get the best of everything out of each stage of our life, "to gather all of its leaves in spring, all of its flowers in summer, all its fruits in autumn.''

Cheerfulness is a matter which depends fully as much on the state of things within as on the state of things about and around us; and inner sunshine warms not only the heart of the owner but all who come in contact with it. Goldsmith's traveler seated on a crag in the Alps, in solemn meditation, reviews his long pilgrimage, recalls the varieties of scenery, of climate, of government, of religion, of national character, and arrives to the just conclusion "That human happiness depends little on political institutions, and much on the temper and regulation of our own minds." We have read of one who, by reason of the application of this truth, was very happy with some garden flowers, half a dozen pictures, and a few books. He declared that he lived without envy without fear and without desire. Izaak Walton,

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author of the "Complete Angler," lived to the advanced age of ninety years and, adopting this principle, the last forty years of his life was a period of the utmost tranquillity and peace.

Another example is that of John Wesley, who, in 1790, said that he did not remember to have felt lowness of spirits for a quarter of an hour since he was born. It was said of the Duke of Wellington that the general character of his last years was rather that of the old age of a great man idealized. "To the unbroken splendors of his military career, to his honorable and conscientious labors as a parliamentary statesman, life unusually prolonged added an evening of impressive beauty and calm." His delight lay within his own soul.

It was the opinion of Marcus Aurelius that "the nearer character attains to immunity from passion, the greater is its power. That anger is as weak as grief. Both mean that we have been wounded and have succumbed."

Many do not consider that our well-being depends so largely upon the temper and regulation of our minds. But we must accept as true the declaration of a man of large observation and deep reflection, that no bodily comforts which could be devised by the skill and labor of a hundred generations would give happiness to a man whose mind was under the tyranny of licentious appetite, of envy, of hatred or of fear.

As to what constitutes happiness depends to some extent upon the age, temperament, disposition and environment, of each particular individual — though there are many sources of happiness common to us all. Some seek happiness, or at least tranquillity, in the peaceful shades of the cloister, the deprivations endured being in a measure compensated for by the consolation of religion ; some in recondite studies, some in general literary pursuits. In ancient times the knight derived exquisite delight in sighing away his soul in moonlight serenades under the balcony of the empress of his affections. Some have an excessive fondness for the sports of the field — oftentimes resulting in a strenuous idleness which disdains all useful occupations. There are others, unfortunately not the majority, the chief part of whose happiness consists in self-sacrifice, in the exercise of the benevolent affections, and in giving and receiving sincere testimonies of regard. Others, like Alexander the Great and Voltaire, deemed no occupation so noble and delightful as that of making ingrates. To the young nothing is more delicious than those illusions to which lovers are proverbially subject during the season of courtship. Many have derived great pleasure in following the suggestion of Goethe, that a man ought, every day, to read a fine book, see a noble picture and look at a beautiful person. There are men whose eyes always light up at the sight of a pretty woman, even of such as merely pass by, never more to be seen of them again.

Ambassador White recalls with much satisfaction the period of his early life when he became educated into the great truth that stores, shops, hotels, facilities for travel and traSic are not the highest things in civilization.

A man who has done a good stroke of business is happy, and this feeling of satisfaction is sometimes indicated by a smug expression about the mouth.

It has been said that in wicked Paris the highest 10

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degree of self-satisfaction eTer registered by a human countenance, is that of the bachelor emerging from a boudoir in the best of humors with himself.

Balzac asserts that a man only lives by some personal gratification. "That the passionless, perfectly righteous man is not human; he is a monster, an angel wanting wings." And he asks "Who dares to bid farewell to an old habit? Many a man on the brink of suicide has been plucked back on the threshold of death by the thought of the cafe where he plays the mighty game of dominoes."

Camille Desmouline's eternal and only receipt for universal happiness was "entire freedom of action and speech."

We all know the ineffable pleasure experienced by a writer or a speaker when he first sees himself in print.

There will be general acquiescence in the truth of the observation of Goethe made in his preface to "Wilhelm Meister," when he declares that, "There are loftier emotions, which afford us a contentment which is in vain to seek in the amusements of the world; and, in these higher jo3^s, there is also kept a secret treasure for strengthening in misfortune."

In woman, the love of becoming ornament is not only pardonable but commendable, and cannot justly be regarded in the light of vanity. We all know that the choice and arrangement of dress bestows an added charm to her fascinations. To be perfectly charming, however, she must be happy. It has been said that happiness is the poetry of woman, as the toilet is her tinsel.

Women intensely enjoy the company and conversa- 11 tion of each other. No man can know, with absolute certainty, the subjects which they consider and discuss, but dame rumor is responsible for the intimation that the questions of feminine attire, their own complaints, and the merits and excellencies of their favorite physicians and ministers, are not, as a rule, completely ignored.

A brilliant but malevolent writer, with a gravity almost amounting to solemnity, declares that "at the age of forty a woman, especially if she has tasted the poisoned apple of passion, is aware of a solemn dread: she perceives that two deaths await her — that of the body and that of the heart; and that all alike after that terrible date in life, are aware of an acute pain." This can only be regarded as a gross exaggeration. A perfect panacea for all such troubles would be a love letter and a beautiful new gown, in consonance with the principle, long since established, that these two things — pretty dresses and love letters — create woman a second time.

Much satisfaction and tranquillity of mind result from the cultivation of a feeling of self-reliance and independence. We have been deeply impressed with the observation of Goethe: "For a time we may grow up under the protection of parents and relatives; we may lean for a while on our brothers and sisters and friends, be supported by acquaintances, and made happy by those we love; but in the end, man is always driven back upon himself. * * * Early enough, and by many a hard lesson, had I learned that, at the most urgent crisis, the call to us is Thysician, heal thyself,'

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and how frequently had I been compelled to sigh out in pain ^I tread the wine press alone V "

It has been said that in youth, melancholy is the twilight of dawn, in age the dusk of night. "In youth, one is admirably adapted to give and receive happiness ; and it is the peculiar felicity of this period of life that the most unpleasing objects and events seldom make a deep or lasting impression; it forgets the past, enjoys the present, and anticipates the future/^

It is probable that no two persons will agree as to what constitutes the ideal happy man. It is the opinion of one that a life alternately devoted to action, reflection and literature is idealistic. Another declares that an ideal life is one compounded of work and meditation, of solitude and society. It was remarked of the late Senator Morrill of Vermont that he was full of good cheer and sunshine, full of hope for the future, full of pleasant memories of the past. To him life was made up of cheerful yesterdays and confident to-morrows. The life of Fontenelle, the celebrated French author, is, in our opinion, very far from being ideal, but it is certainly unique and interesting. He died in 1757, having attained the age of one hundred years. He studied law but abandoned the profession on losing his first case. As a writer he was distinguished for his amazing versatility and also for the charm of his conversation. His last words when dying were "I do not suffer, my friends; but I feel a sort of difficulty in living." His character and eccentricities have been vividly portrayed by Sainte Beuve: "He had never wept; he had never been in a rage; he had never run; and as he never acted from motives of sentiment, he never received impressions from other men. * * * He had never interrupted any one; he would listen to his interlocutor to the very end, without losing anything; he was never in a hurry to speak ; and if you had brought any accusation against him, he would have listened the whole day to your impeachments without uttering a single word. * * * *He who wishes to be happy/ he observed, '^reduces and confines himself as much as possible.' He has these two characteristics: he seldom changes his habitation, and does not care in particular for any habitation. When he took possession of any new quarters, he let the things remain as he found them; he would never have thought of either removing or adding a single nail."

The happiness of the individuals composing a nation is the happiness of the nation. In the last century a celebrated Englishman referred to the United States as a magnificent spectacle of human happiness; and, about the same time, a distinguished Frenchman who had devoted several years to the study of our institutions and people, declared that he found in the United States that restlessness of heart which is natural to man, when all ranks are nearly equal and the chances of elevation are the same to all.

While it is true that our country has experienced the extreme vicissitudes of the highest happiness and the direst affliction, it will be conceded, we think, that upon the whole, no nation surpasses us in individual and national prosperity and happiness.

Chapter II. Love

In considering and presenting the subject of human happiness and its opposite, we shall not ignore that great comedy which is the prologue of every married life. We shall not be deterred from its consideration by any apprehension of ridicule on the part of rude and uncultivated persons, should this volume, perchance, fall into their hands. The love of the sexes is, in fact, the foundation of all human happiness ; and, of all ties that bind one human being to another, it is the closest and the strongest. It comes to us from God and does not depend upon ourselves to kindle it in our own bosoms. It of course varies in intensity in different individuals — the highest degree of affection being illustrated by that of the love bird which is indigenous to Africa and South America. If a pair of these little birds have been kept together in captivity, neither can long survive the loss of its partner.

The great anatomists of the human heart have, from time to time, attempted to define or describe this passion of love; one declares that it is the income of beauty, and he who seeks beauty without expressing love, withholds its income in a manner that cries out for vengeance.

Another defines love to be the consciousness of happiness given and received, and the certainty of giving and getting it. Another asks the question, what do you call loving, and answers, "Always thinking of a person — always seeking her society."

The historian Gibbon, in approaching the delicate subject of his own early love, defines this passion as the union of desire, friendship and tenderness, which is infl-uenced by a single female, which prefers her to the rest of her sex and which seeks her possession as the supreme or sole happiness of our being. Another declares, that when the mind, the heart, and the senses all have their share in the rapture which transports us — ah! then there is no falling to earth, rather it is to heaven we soar; still another avers that when two love each other so well that every day seems for them the first day of their love, such vital happiness has a marvelous power of transforming the whole conditions of life.

Goethe observes that the first propensities to love in an uncorrupted youth take altogether a spiritual direction. Nature seems to desire that one sex may by the senses perceive goodness and beauty in the other. He adds: "Thus to me by the sight of this girl (Bettina), by my strong inclination for her — a new world of the beautiful and the excellent had arisen." He subsequently declares that "It was not until many years afterward, nay until after her death, that I learned of her secret, heavenly love, in a manner that necessarily overwhelmed me."

LOVE

It has been said that a woman^s greatest charm consists in a constant appeal to man's generosity, in a graceful admission of helplessness, which stimulates his pride, and awakens his noblest feelings; and that love in her "is the most unlimited confidence, joined to a craving to reverence and adore the being to whom she belongs."

A celebrated woman declares that of all mysteries in life, love is the least mysterious. "That it exhales from woman like a perfume, and that she who can conceal it is a very monster. Our eyes prattle even more than our tongues." So much as to the nature, definition and description of love as viewed, not only by novelists^ but by the profound thinkers of our own and former times.

Hahnemann, the celebrated German physician, and the author and originator of homeopathy as a distinctive system of medicine, taught that disease is to be regarded as consisting essentially of the symptoms of it as experienced and expressed by the patient, or as detected by the physicians; in other words, that the chief symptoms, or the "totality of the symptoms" constitute the disease. May not the same principle be applicable to this strange and bewitching malady of the human heart, called love? Would it be possible for any of the great analysts who have essayed to define this malady to give a better definition than this — "the totality of the S3rniptoms.'* To the symptoms then our attention must be given.

The memorable colloquy between Eosalind and Or- 17 lando, in the Forest of Arden, renders comparatively easy the solution of the question "when is a man in love."

"Rosalind — My uncle taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.

"Orlando — What were his marks?

"Rosalind^A lean cheek, which you have not ; a blue eye and sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for simply you having no beard is a younger brother's revenue; then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything about you demonstrating a careless desolation ; but you are no such man ; you are rather point — devise in your accoutrements, as loving yourself than seeming the lover of another."

It has been said that when a girl dimly divines the presence of love in the world she smiles as she smiled in her babyhood, when she saw the light for the first time ; that the dawning of love in her is as faint as the first light of the morning, and that this first illusion is "the subtlest of feelings, the heart's daintiest morsel." Novelists have exhausted their vocabularies in their efforts to portray the ineffable loveliness of a 3^oung girl, gathering the first roses of an unspoken declaration. The blind mother of the beautiful girl discovered the secret of her daughter's budding passion. "Listen, my friends," said the blind woman, "my daughter is in love. I feel it; I see it. A strange change has come

LOVE

over her, and I cannot think how you have failed to observe it. * * * For the last two months she has dressed herself with care as if she were going to meet some one. She has become excessively particular about her shoes; she wants her feet to look nice. * * * Some days the poor child sits gloomy and watchful, as if she expected somebody. * * * Her cheerfulness betrays itself in the tones of her voice, accents which I can detect and account for. In short, she is happy. There is a tone of thanksgiving even in the ideas she utters. * * * Though I am blind my affection is clairvoyant."^

The animation which love puts into a young life is marvelous, and there certainly is no more becoming cosmetic. It is said that the eyes of a lover are not his own, but you may rest assured that he makes good use of them; and it has been observed that none but lovers and diplomatists know all that the flash of the eye can convey of information or delight. The remarks of a lover, as a rule, are not characterized by profundity, and, indeed, it has been intimated, that his words are sometimes utterly void of common sense — but his eloquent looks more than compensate for these deficiencies. Illustrative of the power of the eye, is the proud boast of a fascinating woman that a single glance from her made the boldest youth drop his eyes. When the eyes of two lovers fall at once and meet again — this circumstance portends much happiness for both. A lover's mournful farewell glance at his lady-love's window tells the whole story. When a woman is afraid to look at her inter-