this world. Perhaps the Australian
tale of an invention by which sheep and oxen are first made lifeless,
then rendered "stiff ones" by freezing, and then restored to life, and
reproduced with gravy, may be like the genius of Beethoven. Very few
persons (and these artists) believed in Beethoven at first, but now he is
often considered to be the greatest of composers. Perhaps great
discoveries, like the works of men of original genius, are certain to be
received at first with incredulity and mockery. We will not, therefore,
take up a dogmatic position, either about the painting or the preserved
meats of the future; but will hope for the best. The ideally best, of
course, is that the tale from Australia may prove true. In that case the
poorest will be able to earn "three square meals a day," like the
Australians themselves; and while English butchers suffer (for some one
must suffer in all great revolutions), smiling Plenty will walk through
our land studying a cookery-book. There are optimistic thinkers, who
gravely argue that the serious desires of humanity are the pledges of
their own future fulfilment. If that be correct, the Australian myth may
be founded on fact. There is no desire more deep-rooted in our
perishable nature than that which asks for plenty of beef and mutton at
low prices. Again, humanity has so often turned over the idea of
conveniently suspended animation before, that there must be something in
that conception. If we examine the history of ideas we shall find that
they at first exist "in the air." They float about, beautiful alluring
visions, ready to be caught and made to serve mortal needs by the right
man at the right moment. Thus Empedocles, Lucretius, and the author of
"Vestiges of Creation," all found out Darwinism before Mr. Darwin. They
spied the idea, but they left it floating; they did not trap it, and
break it into scientific harness. Solomon De Caus, as all the world has
heard, was put into a lunatic asylum for inventing the steam-engine,
though no one would have doubted his sanity if he had offered to raise
the devil, or to produce the philosopher's stone, or the _elixir vitae_.
Now, these precious possessions have not been more in men's minds than a
system of conveniently suspended animation. There is scarcely a
peasantry in Europe that does not sing the ballad of the dead bride. This
lady, in the legends, always loves the cavalier not selected by her
parents, the detrim