Herald of the times. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1849-1856, 1851-10-09

dhu. strolllng among these dry ne'us,
upoH The sea. you may perceive plainly
enough the difference. In the Begin
ming of the month, cluster OF days,
like troop OF tropical birds, with fiery
breath and plumage, brcaihed torrid
airs over the island. Ii was tie final
ecstacy and festival of Sumner But
"A huge black clowd gathered one Satur-
day afternoon, and with lightning and
flooding rain dispersed those tropical es-
trays, and left Us cool and erect, mind
and body, in the rich, yellow autumnal
lighl. The tenderness OF feeling induc-
ed by the lovcliness Of the waning year
creates a sympathy Tor this season more
personal than for any other. 1t is the
sympathy with decline and ath, the
awe before the mystery Of which they
are the avenue aud gate. In the jour
ncy Of the year, the Autumn is Venice,
Spring is Naples certainly, and the ma
jestc maturity of Summer is Rome
Not dlssmllar, is the feeling with which
you glide through the shadow Of crumb-
ling Venetian magnlticence, and the
sentiment with which you tread the
gorgeous bowers of Autumn. What
life, what hope, what iilimitable promise
once filled the eye here, and fed the i'm
| aglnation Venice failed to fulfill that
promise to experience. Has any Sum
mer ever kept it to the life 2
See in the radiance and flashing cloud
forms of this sky, how the year repeats
the story OF June, how it murmurs those
dying Spring songs So in Venice -
To these palaces ghosty glory
Clings like the family remembered story
OF on old damonded dowager, mumbling
Tales OF her youth from her memory crumbling.
Ii is not possible TO shun the influence Of
these days. The deep dome Of the sky
irescoed by the last sunbeams with del
icate tracery Of vapors and luminous
masses Of cloud, the endless extent OF
The sea, which is only small when you
are upon It, the uniform line Of the coast,
simple grand material outlined rs grand
ly, these store your mind with sweet
and solemn imagery, and indicate, ev-
en here, where the wassall- worship Of
our Ephesian Diana has but now reeled
away the altar of the unknown God.
Nor can you avoid wondering what
evidence you shall find in the winter that
the city has summcred upon the sea-
side. If yearly we are thus submitted
to the most beautiful and profound natu-
raj Influences, and the tone Of our socie-
~ remains still as fcrcely frivolous, it is
not strange that the September musings
OF cynical Timon make him still more
cynical How can he help dreaming
| dreams of a race that should show
throughout their Winter life the fresh
ness and vigor Of their Summer neigh
borhood ? II a young man passes n
few Years la Europe and returns with
nothing but the air OF figure in the
last print OF fashions, he can only please
the ninth part Of a man. He will pain
and mortIly all the rest. His men and
motion and conversation should show
that he has seen and heard and felt
what So many yearn to behold, because
! they could enjoy to the utmost, yet must
die without seeing. He should be Paint
ing and Sculpture he shoul be radicnt
with art and informed with experience;
he should be channel into the new
world Of all the best influences of the
old, or he has delrauded his country,
himself, and those who might have been
all that he has failed TO he, by not re-
linquishing the opportunity TO another.
| look into hIs eyes, but instead Of the
Alps and Italy, see only the Boulevards
or Notre Dame de Lorctte. hear him
speak and catch fine French oath, but
no Miserere, no Campagna Song or
! Barcarole. | mark his manner with
women, but | do not perceive that he
| has seen Raphaels Madonnas with
men, but | do not feel the presence Of
the Michael Angelo. lxion has come
| down from heaven, having banqueted
with all the Gods, and remembers only
the pattern OF the table-cloth.
Akin to this is the inst nctive require
ment in the character Of a society which
every year repairs to the fountains of
mental and physical health. In its eye
should be the clearness Of the sky, in lie
/ voice the fresh sound of the sea, in it's
movement the grace OF woods and
waves. 1t is very well TO carry the
country to the city, but it is very i'll TO
bring the city to the country. The in
! fuence of the city is always 10 be rcsis-
81, because the necessary spirit Of III,
city is bclitllhg. personal and selfish I;
that II the country, Oh the other hand,
is to be fostcred, because it is imperson-
]
! stimulus OF the contact Of men in the
city is useful, sometimes essential, but
always dangerous. The tranqulilzing
tricndlness OF the country lavors repose,
! perhaps inactivity and intellectual rest
/ but is always humane and cIevdting.-
| The city, in its technical, social sense,
is always ludcrous and, if It were pos
sible, insulting, in the country. There
n is nothing finer in nature and art than
the sublime scorn inherent in their vir-
ginal purity. A great picture will not
be seen nor grand landscape done"
In the crowds Of listless idlcrs who nlest
Rome yearly, how many see the Trans
iguration, or hear the Miserere, or
know the profound paihos Of the Cam
pagna Nature and Art are yelled god
de,ses, and only Love and Humility
draw the curtains.
We must leave in the city then, as Ear
as possible, the social fictions OF the city,
/ five hope even to master them rather
than to be mastered by TEN. And
that is precisely what is most rarely
done, precisely what we Americans do
less than any other people.
II lr,member. as we noated about the
canals in Venice, how we used to mag
inc "A life aud society worthy the climate
md tho nn.fir rtIu fIha unrnan f,I