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  THE

  AMERICAN

  QUARTERLY REVIEW.

  No. XVIII.

  JUNE, 1831.

  PHILADELPHIA:
  CAREY & LEA.

  SOLD IN PHILADELPHIA BY E. L. CAREY & A. HART.
  NEW-YORK, BY G. & C. & H. CARVILL.

  _LONDON_:--R. J. KENNETT, 59 GREAT QUEEN STREET.
  _PARIS_:--A. & W. GALIGNANI, RUE VIVIENNE.




  AMERICAN QUARTERLY REVIEW.

  No. XVIII.

  JUNE, 1831.




    ART. I.--COLLEGE INSTRUCTION AND DISCIPLINE.

    1.--_Journal of the Proceedings of a Convention of Literary
    and Scientific Gentlemen, held in the Common Council Chamber
    of the City of New-York_. October, 1830. New-York: pp. 286.
    8vo.

    2.--_Catechism of Education, Part 1st, &c_. By WILLIAM LYON
    MACKENZIE. _Member of the Parliament of Upper Canada_. York:
    1830. pp. 46. 8vo.

    3.--_Address of the State Convention of Teachers and Friends
    of Education, held at Utica_. January 12th, 13th, and 14th,
    1831. _With an Abstract of the Proceedings of said
    Convention_. Utica: 1831. pp. 16. 8vo.

    4.--_Oration on the advantages to be derived from the
    Introduction of the Bible and of Sacred Literature as
    essential parts of all Education, in a literary point of
    view merely, from the Primary Schools to the University:
    delivered before the Connecticut Alpha of the Phi Beta Kappa
    Society_. On Tuesday, September 7th, 1830. By THOMAS SMITH
    GRIMKE, of Charleston, S. C. New-Haven: 1830. pp. 76. 8vo.

    5.--_Lecture on Scientific Education, delivered Saturday,
    December 18th, 1830, before the Members of the Franklin
    Institute_. By JAMES R. LEIB, A. M. Philadelphia: 1831. pp.
    16. 8vo.


The subject of practical education has always been one of intense
interest with every reflecting individual in this Union. It is a
universally received axiom, that the foundation of a republic must be in
the information of its people; and that whilst the monarchical
governments of other countries may be successfully administered by an
oligarchy of intelligence, a government like our own cannot be carried
on without an extensive diffusion of knowledge amongst those who have to
select its very machinery. The political circumstances of a country will
also modify, most importantly, the course of instruction; and that
system which is adopted in the old Universities of Oxford, Cambridge,
and Dublin, in a nation in which the law of primogeniture exists, where
wealth is entailed in families, and where the colleges themselves are
richly endowed, may be impracticable or impolitic in a country not
possessing such incentives. Education must, therefore, be suited to the
country; and a long period must elapse before we can expect to have
individuals as well educated as in those universities, although the mass
of our community may be much more enlightened. We have no benefices, no
fellowships with fixed stipends, to offer for those who may devote
themselves to the profound study of certain subjects. In England and
Ireland, it is by no means uncommon for a student to remain at college
until he is twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, in the acquisition
of his preliminary education, or of those branches that are made to
precede a professional course of study--the whole period of his academic
residence being consumed in the study of these departments. In this
country, such a course would be as unadvisable as it is generally
impracticable. The equal division of property precludes any extensive
accumulation of wealth in families. The youth are compelled to launch
early into life: the more useful subjects of study have to be selected,
and the remainder are postponed as luxuries, to be acquired should
opportunity admit of indulgence.

In no country are the colleges or higher schools so numerous, in
proportion to the population, as in the United States.

In France there are three universities; in Italy, eight; in Great
Britain, eight; in Germany, twenty-two; and in Russia, seven: whilst in
the United States, we have thirteen institutions bearing the title of
universities, and thirty-three that of colleges; making in all forty-six
higher schools capable of conferring degrees: yet a very wrong inference
would be drawn, were we to affirm that the education of a nation is
always in a direct ratio with the number of its higher schools. Such
would be the fact, did these institutions assume an elevated standard in
the distribution of their highest honours, and were the condition of the
intermediate schools such that the youth could be sent to the university
so prepared as to be able to cultivate his studies there to the greatest
advantage. Unfortunately, in many parts of the United States the
condition of the intermediate schools and academics has been grievously
neglected; and the authorities of the universities have been compelled
to lower their standard, and to admit students totally unprepared for
more advanced studies. In this way many of the higher schools have
degenerated into mere gymnasia, or ordinary academies. This
circumstance, with the multiplication of institutions capable of
conferring degrees, has been attended with the additional evil, that, in
some, the highest honours have been, and are conferred for acquirements,
which would scarcely enable the possessors to enter the lowest classes
in others.

It seems, indeed, that the real or fancied insufficiency of most of our
existing institutions, gave occasion to the proposition for establishing
a university in New-York, and to the Convention, a review of whose
proceedings will enable us to offer some practical considerations and
reflections, deduced from some experience and meditation on this
momentous subject. "Much as our country," observes the Rev. _Dr.
Mathews_, in his opening address in behalf of the committee of the
university, "owes to her excellent colleges, the sentiment seems to be
general, that the time has arrived when she calls for something more;
when she requires institutions which shall give increased maturity to
her literature, and also an enlarged diffusion to the blessings of
education, and which she may present to the world as maintaining an
honourable competition with the universities of Europe." p. 14.

The establishment of a university in the city of New-York having been
determined upon, and "an amount of means" pledged to the object, which
would place the institution at its commencement on a liberal footing,
its friends, "believing it to be desirable, and that it would prove
highly gratifying to all who feel an interest in the important subject
of education, that a meeting should be convened of literary and
scientific men of our country, to confer on the general interests of
letters and liberal education," appointed a committee, with powers to
invite, as far as practicable, the attendance of such individuals in
behalf of the university. Accordingly, on the 20th of October last, a
number of literary and scientific gentlemen assembled from various parts
of the United States, when President Bates, of Middlebury College,
Vermont, was appointed president of the convention; and the Honourable
Albert Gallatin, and Walter Bowne, Esq. Mayor of the City, were named
vice presidents. The convention sat daily until the 23d inclusive, when
it adjourned _sine die_; but not without having provided for the
perpetuation of its species at a future period.

In an assemblage so constituted, it was not to be expected that,
excepting the notoriety occasioned by it, any great advantage could
accrue to the university or to the public from its deliberations; the
most discordant sentiments on almost all points of discipline and
instruction;--the views of the experienced and inexperienced--the
_experientia vera_, and the _experientia falsa_--of the contemplative
and the visionary, were to be anticipated; but we must confess, that
humble as were our expectations from the results of its labours, the
published record of its proceedings proves that we had pitched them too
high. The committee appear to us to have had no definite object--no
system--in bringing many of the subjects before the convention; every
discussion is arrested, without our being able to decide what was the
conclusion at which the meeting arrived: and

    "Like a man to double business bound,
    They stand in pause where they shall first begin,
    And both neglect."

Of these debates the "Journal" is, doubtless, a faithful record, so far
as regards their succession; the brevity, however, of the minutes,
published by the secretary, renders the work very unsatisfactory; and
scarcely elevates it above the character of a log-book, if we make
exception of one or two excellent addresses--such as that of Mr.
Gallatin--which are reported at length; and of some (generally
indifferent) communications transmitted by their authors.

The first topic presented for the consideration of the convention,
was:--"_As to the universities of Europe; and how far the systems
pursued in them may be desirable for similar institutions in this
country_." On this subject, Dr. Lieber read a communication of interest
in relation to the organization, courses of study and discipline of the
German universities, which was referred to the committee of
arrangements. Mr. Woolsey, of New-York, gave an account of the French
colleges; their system of instruction and discipline; a few desultory
observations are next made by Mr. W. C. Woodbridge. Mr. Hasler flies off
at a tangent, and offers "a few remarks on the appointment of
professors," and is followed by Professor Silliman on the same subject.
Mr. Sparks presents a few observations and alludes to the organization
of Harvard College. President Bates gives the plan of choosing
professors adopted at the college over which he is placed; and Mr.
Keating, of Philadelphia, puts a _finale_ to the proceedings of the day
and to the question at the same time, by the expression of his views.
After this, we hear no more of this "topic," and we are left in the dark
whether the system or any part of the system of the universities of
Europe be desirable for similar institutions in this country.

It is a mere truism to remark, that the success of an institution must
be greatly dependent upon the character of its professors; hence, in all
universities, the best mode of selecting them has been a point of
earnest and careful inquiry. In some countries, they are appointed by
the government; in others, the office is obtained _au concours_. The
candidates being required to defend theses of their own composition, and
the most successful receiving the office; whilst in others, the faculty
have the power of supplying vacancies in their own body. In our own
country, no uniformity exists on this point. Harvard, by the scheme of
organization, is under the supervision and control of two separate
boards, called the _Corporation_, and _Board of Overseers_. The former
is composed of seven persons, of whom the president of the college is
one, by virtue of his office; the other six being chosen from the
community at large. The board of overseers consists of the governor and
lieutenant-governor of the state, the members of the council and of the
senate, the speaker of the house of representatives, and the president
of the college _ex-officio_; and, also, of fifteen laymen and fifteen
clergymen, who are elected, as vacancies occur, by the whole board. This
board has a controlling power, which, however, is rarely exerted over
the acts of the corporation.

The professors are all chosen, in the first instance, by the
corporation, or rather nominated for the approval or rejection of the
board of overseers: "but as a case has rarely, if ever been known, in
which such a nomination has been rejected by the overseers, the election
of all the professors and immediate officers, may be said to pertain in
practice to the corporation alone. It is probable, however, that this is
seldom done without consulting the members of the faculty into which a
professor is to be chosen." _Journal_, p. 82.

In the generality of our institutions, the appointing power is vested in
a board of trustees, who have no controlling body placed over them. In
almost all, however, we find from the Journal of the Convention--that
the faculty are consulted--"that" according to Dr. Bates, "experience
had proved the wisdom of consulting the faculty on any contemplated
appointment of a professor; and that, in fact, though not professedly,
yet in effect, professors are appointed by the instructers or
faculty,--and thus by securing their good will towards the new
incumbent, amity was enforced." P. 83.

The great difficulty exists in becoming acquainted with the
qualifications of the candidate, especially if he has not been
previously engaged in teaching. There can be no better mode of testing
the capacity of a teacher, than in the class room; but if this be not
available, the recommendation of _sufficient_ individuals, with us, has
always to be taken; and in this, a certain degree of risk must
necessarily be incurred. It is never, however, a matter of so much
moment to procure a professor, who is pre-eminently informed upon the
subject of his department, as one that is capable of communicating the
knowledge he possesses, is systematic, has a mind that can enable him to
improve and to take part as a member of the faculty in the management of
the university, in which the greatest firmness, good sense, and ability
are occasionally demanded. "A man," says the illustrious Jefferson, "is
not qualified for a professor, knowing nothing but merely his own
profession. He should be otherwise well educated as to the sciences
generally; able to converse understandingly with the scientific men with
whom he is associated, and to assist in the councils of the faculty on
any subject of science in which they may have occasion to deliberate.
Without this he will incur their contempt and bring disreputation on the
institution."[1]

Young professors are, on the above accounts, _cæteris paribus_,
preferable to old. They have not had time to acquire any bad system; are
energetic in the acquisition of information, and become attached to the
occupation. In institutions where the faculty live within the same
walls, it is, likewise, important that the disposition of the individual
should be taken into the account, in order that every thing may go on
harmoniously. A kind, conciliating deportment, will also gain the
respect of the student, and tend materially to discipline.

The best system for the appointment of professors, perhaps, would
be--that the faculty should nominate, and the trustees approve or
reject. It is improbable, that they would ever be guided by any feelings
which would be counter to the prosperity of the institution; whilst they
would generally have better opportunities of becoming acquainted with
the qualifications of individuals than the board of trustees. This
course appears to us less objectionable than any other; and we are glad
to find that it was suggested by Mr. Sparks, in the convention.--

    "No good policy," he remarks, "would introduce an efficient
    member into a small body, where such a step would be likely
    to endanger the harmony of feeling and action. For this
    reason, it may be well worthy of consideration, whether, in
    the scheme of a new constitution, it is not better to
    provide for the nomination of a professor by the members of
    the faculty, with whom he is to be associated. Such a body
    would be as capable as any other, to say the least, of
    judging in regard to the requisite qualifications of a
    candidate, and much more capable of deciding whether his
    personal qualities, traits of character, and habits of
    thinking, would make him acceptable in their community. It
    seems evident, therefore, that something is lost and nothing
    gained by referring this nomination to another body of men,
    who have no interest in common with the party chiefly
    concerned. It is enough that the electing or sanctioning
    power dwells in a separate tribunal." P. 83.

Much diversity of opinion has prevailed on the subject of remuneration
to professors. In some universities they are paid entirely by fees from
the students. The objection urged against this, is, that the professor
is too much dependent upon the student, and that this feeling may
materially interfere with discipline. To those who consider that there
ought to be no discipline in our universities--and strange as it may
seem, such views were expressed in the convention--this plan of
remuneration can be liable to no objection. Nor to institutions in which
there are no resident pupils, like the one proposed in New-York, would
the objection apply. On the contrary, the mode in which the professor
receives his remuneration entirely from the students, the stimulus which
is thus excited, and the feeling that his emoluments may be
proportionate to his energy and success in conveying instruction, may
have the most beneficial effect upon his exertions. Accordingly, we find
the most meritorious application on the part of the professors in our
great medical schools; and a degree of enthusiasm aroused, which might
not be elicited were the mode of recompensing them other than it is.

On the other hand, it has been maintained, that the professor should be
in no wise dependent upon the student; that he should receive no fees,
but be paid by a fixed salary. The objection urged against this system
is, that there is here no stimulus, and that as the professor feels his
income altogether independent of his exertions, he will relax in his
efforts, neglect his duties, become inattentive to his own improvement,
and uncourteous in his behaviour to the pupil. This is plausible in
theory, and doubtless, has occasionally been found to be the fact. It is
not likely to occur, however, if the professor be held rigidly
responsible, and if the tenure of his office be on good behaviour,
instead of for life. It is to be calculated, likewise, that every
professor is a gentleman, and that the honour of the situation is a part
of the emolument. These should be a sufficient guarantee that his duties
will be performed energetically, and that his behaviour will be
courteous. Should this not be the case, he is unfit for his situation,
and the trustees should have moral courage enough to remove him.
Experience, too, has, we think, sufficiently proved, that the evils of
fixed salaries, under the tenure _dum bene se gesserit_, are more
imaginary than real: some of the very best institutions are conducted
upon this system, in various parts of Europe and of this country. On the
whole, perhaps, where the students reside within the precincts, a
combination of a fixed salary, of a sufficient amount to enable the
professor to be, to a certain extent, independent of the student, with
the payment of a fee from the student for tuition, is the most politic
and satisfactory mode of remuneration. In this manner, he receives a
certain stimulus to exertion, whilst other objections to both exclusive
systems are obviated. Experience, however, shows, that although the zeal
and industry of a professor may occasion a slight fluctuation in the
numbers that resort to his school, this influence is very limited in its
action. It is the character of the study which attracts followers; and
whilst one department will be crowded to excess, independently of the
merits or demerits of the professor, others will be almost entirely
neglected. This will occur in all institutions in which professional, or
extremely advanced, or unusual studies are taught. Every student,
whether he may be intended for one of the learned professions, or for
any other pursuit, considers it absolutely necessary to attend certain
academical departments;--those of ancient languages and mathematics for
example;--whilst comparatively few can be expected to attend the
professional chairs, or the higher branches of study, notwithstanding
the subjects may be taught in the most attractive and sufficient manner.
Unless the manners of a professor are strikingly obnoxious, but little
effect will be produced in the numbers frequenting his school: and if
they are so, it is a sufficient ground for removal.

In those universities in which the professors are remunerated by a fixed
salary, this inequality of attendance is not felt; but it is a serious
evil, where the emolument accrues wholly or in part in the form of
tuition fees. The greatest inequality may prevail in the compensation;
and those teachers who are engaged in the most abstruse departments,
will necessarily be worse paid than those who are engaged in
superintending the elementary branches. Suppose the department of
mathematics to be divided into the elementary and transcendental: if
each be remunerated by an equal fee from his students, the latter cannot
expect to have an income of more than one-twentieth part of that of his
colleague. This we know is a ground of much dissatisfaction in many
institutions, and attempts have been made to obviate it. Meiners,[2] a
reflecting writer on the subject of universities, thinks it would be
proper to correct this inequality by making a portion of the fees
received common stock: but if we admit that the abilities and attention
of the professors are equal, and that the same number of hours is
employed in teaching the various branches, there seems to be no reason
why the remuneration of one professor should be permitted to exceed that
of his colleague. On this subject, some pertinent remarks were made by
Dr. Lieber, in which he agrees, in many respects, with his countryman,
_Meiners_.

    "Now I ask," says he, "how much even Professor Gauss, _le
    plus grand des mathematiciens_, as _La Grange_ called him,
    has realized from his lectures? Mathematics, at least the
    higher branches of them, never can be very popular; I mean,
    it is impossible that they should be generally studied, and
    it would be to consign a professor to absolute indigence, if
    government should leave professors of mathematics dependent
    on the honorarium paid by their students. I studied
    mathematics under the celebrated Pfaff at Halle, whom _La
    Grange_ called _un des premiers mathematiciens_, and we were
    never more than twenty in his lecture room, of whom I fully
    believe not much more than half paid the _honorarium_, which
    was very small." P. 58.

And again,--

    "Yet I believe, that generally speaking, it is better for
    professors and students to have fees paid for their
    lectures, for various reasons, although it would be unsafe
    to let professors be solely or chiefly depending upon them,
    for it would be unsafe to settle such annuities upon persons
    intended to live for science, or guarantee them, forever, an
    easy life. It has besides been found, that generally,
    students attend those lectures more carefully for which they
    pay. With the different branches of instruction, the
    principle upon which professorships are to be established,
    ought to vary. In a city, in which many students of medicine
    always will be assembled, it may be safe to let the
    professor greatly depend upon the fees of the students,
    whilst a professor of Hebrew ought to be provided for in
    such a way, that he may follow the difficult study of
    Oriental languages, without the direct care for his support,
    in case the number of students would be too small for this
    purpose, as it generally will prove." P. 65.

In most of our colleges, the president has some control over the course
of education in the schools of the institution; and, consequently, over
the professors. Such a plan is, however, impolitic. No control whatever
ought to be exerted over the teacher. If qualified--and if not he is not
fitted for his situation--he ought to be left to himself, and to follow
that system which he conceives best adapted to develop the intellect of
his pupils; at the same time he should be held rigidly responsible for
his free agency. In the University of Virginia, as well as in other of
the higher schools of the country, the professor is required to send in
a weekly report of the number of lectures he has delivered; the daily
examinations instituted; the length of time occupied in each; and this
report of the mode in which his duties have been executed, is laid
before the board of visitors at their next meeting. In this manner
delinquencies can be detected, and the appropriate corrective be
applied.

Occasionally, however, it may happen, that a professor may be indolent,
and inaccurate in his reports; and it may be a question, whether it is
not advantageous that the presiding officer should have authority to
attest how often a professor really does meet his class, with the length
of time expended, and the precise course of instruction adopted; and
then to report to the trustees, but not to interfere himself in the
rectification of abuses.

In the discussion of this subject in the Convention, Mr. Keating has
committed a blunder, regarding the University of Virginia.

    "He would like to see the president, in truth, the head of
    the university, occupying a distinguished station in the
    board of trustees, controlling all the faculties,
    superintending all the departments. It should be a situation
    such as an experienced and retiring statesman would be proud
    to fill. A good example had been set by the new University
    of Virginia." P. 86.

Now, the rector of that institution is merely a member of the board of
visiters, chosen from out the body to preside over them, has no
delegated authority, but meets the other visiters once a year, and
presides over their deliberations, without, however, having a casting
vote. The chairman of the faculty, chosen annually by the board of
visiters, from amongst the professors, is the real president, and
possesses the powers usually granted to the presidents of colleges. We
are surprised, by the bye, to observe from the journal of the
Convention, that the University of Virginia was entirely unrepresented
there. It has now been established six years, and has been proceeding on
a tide of successful experiment. It is the first effort that has been
made in this country to cast off the trammels that have fettered
practical instruction; to suffer each to take the bent of his own
inclination in the selection of his studies, requiring for the
attainment of its highest honours, _qualifications_ only, and rejecting
_time_ altogether. Although the first attempt in this country on a large
scale, the plan has been long adopted in other countries, particularly
in Germany, which has been so justly celebrated for the novelty and
excellence of its academic instruction; yet in no country can such an
experiment be regarded with more interest than in the United States,
where, for the reasons already assigned, the youth are compelled to
attain, if practicable, the strictly useful, and to strive for their own
support at a very early period of their career.

In the debates of the Convention, we find few allusions to that
institution, and wherever it is referred to, the most lamentable
ignorance of its economy is exhibited, and the greatest errors are
committed. In it there is an entire separation of the legislative from
the executive power; the board of visiters exercising the former--the
board of professors, or faculty, the latter. This has its advantages and
inconveniences. In many of our colleges for resident students, the
president is, _ex officio_, presiding officer of the board of visiters,
so that he forms a part of the two _powers_. Where the president is at
the same time a professor this is apt to create heart burnings and
jealousies, and gives him a decided, and often unfair preponderance in
any dispute with his brother professors, in which the decision of the
board of trustees may be requested; whilst, if the executive power have
no voice in the deliberations of the superior board; and especially if
the visiters reside at a distance from the institution, laws are apt to
be enacted, which create great dissatisfaction and confusion, which have
not been suggested by experience, and which, consequently, are either
wholly inoperative, unfeasible, or impolitic. To obviate these evils the
executive might have a delegate at the meetings of the legislative body,
who, even if he had no vote, might be expected to take part in those
deliberations which regarded the rules and regulations of the
university, or the interests of the body to which he belonged; but in
the discussion of other topics, his attendance might be dispensed with.
In this manner, the legislative body would have the advantage of the
voice of experience, and the faculty, by choosing their own delegate,
could always be represented, should discussions arise between them and
their presiding officer. Nothing is more certain, than that laws which
seem easy of execution, and admirably conceived, are often found, in
practice, to be wholly unavailable and injudicious. But the mischief
does not end here. The respect of the student is any thing but increased
towards the board that conceives, or the executive which attempts to
fulfil such regulations. By the enactments lying before us, of almost
all the well regulated institutions of this country, we find, that the
board of professors are requested by the trustees to suggest to them
such laws as experience may indicate; this is wise; the faculty are
unquestionably the best judges, and no non-resident can possibly have
the necessary experience.

Well adapted rules are the best safeguards for the success of any
university, where the students reside within the precincts especially.
They should be simple, yet not trivial; efficient, yet not unnecessarily
rigorous, and should be drawn up, if not perspicuously, at least
intelligibly. What shall we say to such cases as the following, which we
copy from the published laws of one of the oldest colleges of this
Union?

    "No person, other than a student or other member of the
    college, shall be admitted as a boarder at the college
    table. No liquors shall be furnished or used at table,
    _except_ beer, cider, toddy, or _spirits and water_!"

    "No student shall be permitted to lodge or board, or without
    permission from the president or a professor, go _into_ a
    tavern."

And again,--

    "If offences be committed in which there are many actors or
    abettors, the faculty may select _such of the offenders for
    punishment as may be deemed necessary to maintain the
    authority of the laws, and to preserve good order in the
    college_, &c."

It is always found more easy to make laws, than to have them well
executed. This is, in fact, usually the great difficulty, and formed,
very properly, a subject of deliberation in the Convention. No light
was, however, shed upon it, and the most visionary sentiments were
elicited, denying the necessity of any discipline whatever in the higher
schools. Whenever a number of youths are thrown together within a small
compass, other rules become necessary besides those of the land. The
_esprit du corps_, the influence of bad example afforded by a few, lead
to the commission of offences that demand interposition; accordingly, in
every intelligent and sound thinking community, certain transgressions,
such as gambling, drinking, disorderly behaviour, habits of expense and
dissoluteness, and incorrigible idleness, have been esteemed to merit
serious collegiate reprehension.

Of the different kinds of government adopted in universities, we shall
mention those only which prevail in the United States. The authority is
generally vested in a president and faculty, the former having the power
of inflicting minor punishments; the major punishments requiring the
sanction of the latter. With the president the power is vested of
deciding whether any case is deserving the one or the other. An
objection has been urged against this system, that if the president be
of a timid, vacillating disposition, he may keep every case from the
faculty, and in this there is some truth; he is, however, responsible to
the trustees, and hence it can rarely happen that he will exercise
ill-judged lenity; this danger too, is greatly abated, provided the
faculty be allowed collateral jurisdiction, and can act on cases of
which he has not taken cognizance. If he has already acted, it would be
obviously improper that any additional jurisdiction should be
exercised--in accordance with the common law maxim--that no man can be
put in jeopardy twice for the same offence.

If such discretionary power be not granted to the presiding officer, he
will have to carry every case before the faculty; and thus his office
will be merely nominal, for it would be utterly impracticable to define,
with any accuracy, the cases that must fall under his dominion,
distinctly from those to be assigned for the animadversion of the
faculty.

It has been fancifully presumed, that the students themselves might be
induced to form a part of the government--to constitute a court for the
trial of minor offences, and to inflict punishment on a delinquent
colleague; and, further, that their co-operation might react
beneficially in the prevention of transgressions. The scheme has a
republican appearance, but experience has sufficiently shown that it is
impracticable. In the first printed copy of the enactments of the
University of Virginia, (1825) we find the following.

"The major punishments of expulsion from the university, temporary
suspension of attendance and presence there, or interdiction of
residence or appearance within its precincts, shall be decreed by the
professors themselves. Minor cases may be referred to a board of six
censors, to be named by the faculty, from among the most discreet of the
students, whose duty it shall be, sitting as a board, to inquire into
the facts, propose the minor punishment which they think proportioned to
the offence, and to make report thereof to the professors for their
approbation or their commutation of the penalty, if it be beyond the
grade of the offence. These censors shall hold their offices until the
end of the session of their appointment, if not sooner revoked by the
faculty." But in the next edition of the enactments, (1827) we find that
no such law exists; hence we conclude, that the experiment had met with
the usual unsuccessful issue. So long, indeed, as the _esprit du corps_
or _Burschenschaft_ prevails amongst students, which inculcates, that it
is a stigma of the deepest hue to give testimony against a
fellow-student, it is vain for us to expect any co-operation in the
discipline of the institution from them. This "loose principle in the
ethics of schoolboy combinations," as it has been termed by Mr.
Jefferson, has indeed led to numerous and serious evils. It has been a
great cause of the combinations formed in resistance of the lawful
authorities, of intemperate addresses at the instigation of some
unworthy member, and to repeated scenes of commotion and violence, and
cannot be too soon laid aside. Sooner or later, it must yield to the
improved condition of public feeling; and we cannot but regret to see
the slightest and most indirect sanction given to it in the regulations
of a university, which has made so many useful innovations in systems of
instruction and discipline, that have been perpetuated by the prejudices
of ages. The law to which we allude is the following:--"When testimony
is required from a student, it shall be voluntary and not on oath, and
the obligation to give it, shall be left to his own sense of right."

No youth hesitates to depose in a court of justice touching an offence
against the municipal laws of his country, committed by a brother
student. The youth and the people at large, are, indeed, distinguished
for their ready attention to the calls of justice. Yet it is esteemed
the depth of dishonour to testify when called upon by the college
authorities, against the grossest violator not only of collegiate but
municipal law, as if it could be less honourable to give the same
testimony before one tribunal than another; or the morality of the act
differed in the two cases.

This erroneous principle, which leads to the separation of so many
promising individuals from the universities, threatens their reputation
and prosperity, injures the cause and saps the very foundation of
education, prevails in some countries, and in some portions of this
country more than in others. In some of the most respectable of our own
colleges, it is made a duty to give evidence under pain of the highest
punishments; and in some of those in which the _esprit du corps_ has
prevailed to the greatest extent, it has given occasion to the adoption,
by the faculty, of the monstrous alternative of selecting persons on
bare suspicion, or at random, and punishing them under the expectation
that the real delinquent might exhibit himself. A law of this kind
prevails in the college of William and Mary, in Virginia. "In any case
of disorderly conduct within the college, in which students are
concerned, every student in college at the time, whether he be a
resident therein or not, shall be considered as a principal and treated
accordingly, unless he can show his innocence." It has also been
proposed to get over this difficulty, with regard to testimony, by
establishing a law court at the university, of which the law professor,
for example, might be judge, and the jury be constituted of the
inhabitants of the vicinity. This tribunal to possess the ordinary
jurisdiction of courts of law, and of course, empowered to require
testimony on oath from the student. Such might be a valuable adjunct to
the powers ordinarily possessed by the faculties of our colleges.

The majority of the convention, seem manifestly to have been in favour
of what they term _Parental Discipline_; but we are left to conjecture
how much this embraces. If it be meant, in the language of Meiners, that
"the academical authorities should bear to the students the relation of
fathers as well as of judges; that they should not only punish, but
entreat, admonish, advise, warn, and reprove"--no one will dispute the
propriety of the system. It is, in fact, that which is introduced into
our best institutions.

"The governors and instructors," say the laws of Harvard, "earnestly
desire that the students may be influenced to good conduct and literary
exertion, by higher motives than the fear of punishment; but when such
motives fail, the faculty will have recourse to friendly caution and
warning, fines, solemn admonition, and official notice of delinquency to
parents or guardians; and where the nature and circumstances of the case
require it, to suspension, dismission, rustication, or expulsion." But
important as may be the reformation of an offender, and interesting as
it is to see the wild and the thoughtless restored to the paths of
rectitude, it is obvious, that the prime object of discipline is less
such reformation than the advantage to others; and if in the collegiate,
as in the corporeal economy, an offending member should endanger the
safety of the whole fabric, it will have to be removed. A man is not
sent to the penitentiary merely because he has stolen a sheep, but in
order that sheep may not be stolen. The term parental discipline, in
fact, is most undefined; it includes the most discrepant and the most
heterogeneous modes of correction. Solitary confinement, sitting in a
corner, whipping, are used according to circumstances; but we presume
none of these punishments were contemplated by the Convention.

Most of the speakers seem to have been of opinion, that the parental
system of intercourse, such as a wise father would maintain with his
son, is best adapted for instruction and discipline in our colleges.
Such a course would be manifestly impracticable where the number of
students is considerable, and is of doubtful policy in all. The
professor should, indeed, be kind, courteous, and affable; conciliating
and ready to afford every information; but we doubt whether either
discipline or instruction is aided by constant and familiar intercourse.
There should be a certain distance maintained between pupil and
preceptor; but no presumption, no affected dignity on the part of the
latter; and under such circumstances every thing will be better effected
than where the communication is closer and less unrestrained.

But the great dread entertained by these gentlemen, has been towards the
infliction of disgrace; yet no punishment, whatever, can be awarded,
without more or less of this. It is a disgrace to an offender to be
reprimanded; to be dismissed from the schoolroom for a time; to be sent
away from the institution; the good, however, of the rest requires it,
and it is pseudo-philanthropy to repine. One point canvassed in the
Convention and connected with this subject, requires notice. "Whether a
student who has been dismissed from one institution ought to be refused
admittance into any other? There is a general understanding amongst the
colleges of the United States, that no student thus separated from one,
shall be received into another, unless he be so far restored to favour
as to be able to obtain from his college what is termed a regular
dismissal." (Journal, p. 145.) Unconditional refusal to admit, appears to
us to be a rule which can allow of but little justification. Meiners
observes, that "those who come from other universities ought to bring
certificates that they have not been expelled. If merely dismissed, they
may be admitted,--but then they should be narrowly watched." It would,
however, be barbarous to exclude even an expelled student, provided he
could produce satisfactory evidence of his return to rectitude. It is a
good practice to make the matriculation, under such circumstances,
difficult; and to require a sufficient period of probation before he is
permitted to join the university. The University of Virginia, has no
comity in this respect with the other institutions of the Union. It has
followed the only rational plan; ordaining--"that no person who has been
a student at any other incorporated seminary, shall be received at that
university, but on producing a certificate from such seminary, or _other
satisfactory evidence_, to the faculty, with respect to his general good
conduct." A no less important regulation would be, to exclude those of
notoriously idle or dissolute habits, and yet who had never been at any
incorporated seminary.

But Mr. Hasler is of opinion, and in this he is joined by Dr. Wolf, and,
so far as we can judge, from the published speech of Mr. Woodbridge, by
that gentleman also,--that little or no control is necessary over the
students who resort to universities. The paper from the pen of that
gentleman, in the Journal before us, bears the stamp of visionary
enthusiasm; exhibits, we think, clearly a total deficiency of
experience, and is

                  "A fine sample, on the whole,
        Of rhetoric, which the learn'd call rigmarole."

    "Against this liberal discipline," he remarks, "the example
    of the Virginia university has very erroneously been alleged
    by way of disapprobation, or as a failure: it affords no
    proof of that kind. The erroneous system of collegiate life
    has been preserved in it. The locality is insulated, and the
    constant sameness of the company, of fellow-students only,
    produces the bad results of tedious and too close influence
    between the student, even with the professors. Besides that,
    the architect of that building, the well informed,
    philosophical, and amiable Jefferson, died before it was
    finished; for the construction of such an institution is not
    finished, with the walls that enclose its lecture rooms, or
    the dwellings; the organization can only be the result of
    several years actual activity of the institution,
    particularly when the plan is novel in the place where it is
    established. To this is still to be added, that the
    professors appointed there, were all accustomed to the
    collegiate life, and therefore not likely of such
    dispositions as to be proper secundents to the liberal plans
    of the original founder." P. 265.

Without pointing out the numerous minor errors that pervade this
paragraph, we may remark, that Mr. Hasler is manifestly uninformed
regarding the condition of the institution to which he alludes. We have
every reason for believing, that the discipline of the University of
Virginia, is equal to that which prevails in any institution of the
Union. The evils of bad discipline, occasioned by the want of sufficient
and efficient rules, were speedily experienced there. The objections
felt by the board of visiters to over-legislation, led to an opposite
error; whilst undue dependence was placed upon the effect that might be
produced from the participation of the students themselves in the
judicial power. Accordingly, we find, from the supplement to the printed
enactments, that it became necessary to tighten the reins of authority
during the very first session.

It has often been remarked, that owing to the feeble domestic discipline
which ordinarily prevails in the United States, the youth, particularly
of the southern parts of the Union, require a different mode of
management from those of other countries. There does not appear to be
the slightest foundation for this vulgar error. Young men, as well as
adults, are much alike over the whole civilized globe; and if it be
found that mild measures are ineffectual, recourse must be had to more
severe every where: and in all cases, the laws, where needed, must be
executed temperately, unhesitatingly, and firmly.

It has been said, that certain offences are esteemed as such in all
institutions: of these, perhaps the most fatal are gambling and
drinking. Both exert their baneful effects upon the morals, habits, and
application of the student; and it is difficult to say, which is the
most to be deprecated. The general evils produced upon society by their
indulgence, it is as unnecessary as it would be out of place, to depict.
It is only as regards their influence on college life and discipline,
that they concern us at present.

Habits of gambling should lead to immediate separation of the offender;
they are rarely abandoned; whilst they are as pernicious to the student
himself, as they are likely to be by evil example to others. Gaming is
one of the offences that require a collegiate, in addition to the
municipal law. Under this head are included all those, which, from their
seductive character, are apt to engross the time of the student, or to
lead to parental loss and inconvenience, as cards, dice, billiards, &c.

Serious, however, as we must necessarily esteem the offence of gambling,
it is, if possible, less so than habits of drinking. The latter is not
an evil which entails with it so much pecuniary difficulty, but it is
apt to lead to the former, and to every other loathsome vice. Few
professed drunkards are reclaimed; and even should they be, the valuable
time lost in youth in these indulgences, renders the youth subsequently
unfit for the reception of moral and intellectual culture; hence he
remains in after life debased and vicious, exhibiting merely the wreck
of his previous intellect. Both these weighty offences may, in some
measure, be checked by wisely devised sumptuary laws. In all well
regulated universities, such endeavours have been directed to restrain
the expenditure of the students.

The _Credit Gesetre_ of Göttingen occupy a space of twenty-two octavo
pages in the work of Meiners. At Harvard, (and we take this in our
references to institutions on the old system of instruction, as being
one of the longest established of those that receive resident students,)
every student who belongs to places more than one hundred miles distant
from Cambridge, is compelled to have a patron, appointed by the
corporation, who has charge of all his funds, and disburses them under
the regulations of the establishment. For this duty, he receives from
the student six dollars a year as a compensation. In the University of
Virginia, the proctor is the patron; and it is enacted, that "no
student, resident within the precincts, shall matriculate, till he shall
have deposited with the proctor all the money, checks, bills, drafts,
and other available funds, which he shall have in his possession or
under his control, in any manner intended to defray his expenses whilst
a student of the university, or on his return from thence to his
residence." On this the proctor is allowed a commission of 2 per cent.
To ensure a more faithful compliance with this and other enactments on
the subject, each student, about to leave the university, is required to
sign a written declaration that he has made such deposit; or if not, to
state the sum withheld, and the proctor is entitled to the same
commission upon that sum as if it had been deposited. But if the student
refuses to give such written declaration, the proctor is entitled to
demand and receive from him so much as, with the commission on the money
actually deposited, will make the sum of twelve dollars. Moreover, in
all cases in which the student fails to make such written declaration,
or in which it may appear that he has not deposited the whole of his
funds with the proctor, that officer is required to report the fact to
the chairman of the faculty, in order that it may be communicated to the
parent or guardian of the student, be laid before the faculty and
visiters, and otherwise properly animadverted upon.

The contraction of debts by students has, also, been made liable to the
severest collegiate penalties; but, notwithstanding, the offence is
always committed to a greater or less extent. The tradesman will give
credit, and the student escape detection. The last and best resource is
in the public spirit of the parent or guardian, who ought,
unhesitatingly and firmly, to refuse to discharge any debt of an
unauthorized nature, which his son or ward may have contracted, and
especially those of the tavern-keeper or confectioner. The censures
which he may incur from the exercise of his public spirit, can proceed
only from the interested and sordid; whilst he will receive the applause
of all those, whose favourable opinion it is desirable to possess. He
will, moreover, have the gratifying conviction, that, by such a course,
he is contributing to the annihilation of a system which is the cause of
much public and domestic mischief.

The legislature of Massachusetts, to aid in the prevention of expense
and dissoluteness, have patriotically enacted "That no inn-holder,
tavern-keeper, retailer, confectioner, or keeper of any shop or
boarding-house, for the sale of drink or food, or any livery-stable-keeper,
shall give credit to any under-graduate, of either of the colleges
within the commonwealth, without the consent of such officer or officers
of the said colleges, respectively, as may be authorized to act in such
cases, by the government of the same, or in violation of such rules and
regulations as shall be, from time to time, established by the authority
of said colleges respectively."

The example might be advantageously followed in other states. The
objection, that, in a free country, every one ought to be protected in
the exercise of his avocation, provided it be honest, is nugatory. They
who are receiving their education at our universities, are to form the
future strength,--and, in many cases, the pride and ornament of the
state; and the pecuniary detriment that might accrue to a few
individuals by the enactment of such a law, must be reckoned as nothing,
compared with the overwhelming evil which results where unlimited
indulgence is permitted.

One of the most prevalent sources of expense is in the article of dress.
They, whose pecuniary means will admit of ostentatious display, will
frequently attempt to exceed others in this fancied evidence of
superiority. This excites a spirit of emulation in such as are but ill
able to afford it, and is the origin of much idle extravagance.

To rectify this evil, as well as to aid in the more ready detection of
offences, a uniform style of dress has been adopted in many of the
universities of this country, and of Europe.

In some, this consists merely of a gown thrown over the clothes: which
latter may be as costly as the wearer chooses.

In others, as in the universities of Harvard and Virginia, cloth of the
cheapest colour, and of a determinate quality, has been selected; and
the uniform dress, made from this, has been directed to be worn,
whenever the student is out of his room. The plan pursued at those
colleges, is the most advantageous, both in a sumptuary and penal point
of view: the fashion of the dress being such as to distinguish readily
the student from others, and thus to admit of the discovery of
transgressors.

As a general system, the adoption of a uniform is attended with the most
beneficial results: although, in particular cases, it may clearly and
necessarily add to the expenditure, where, for instance, the student
purposes to remain at an institution for a single session only. He
leaves home provided with his ordinary apparel, which he is compelled to
abandon, on becoming a matriculate. The prescribed uniform must, of
course, be laid aside, on his quitting college at the end of the
collegiate year; and, by this time, his ordinary apparel has become too
small for him. For this reason, a law requiring a uniform dress, is
obviously more beneficial in such institutions as prescribe a particular
course and term of study, than where no such regulations exist. In the
laws of the University of Virginia, we find that boots are proscribed,
and this may seem to be descending to unnecessary minutiæ; but they who
are practically conversant with university discipline, are aware that
this article of dress is objectionable on other grounds than expense. It
is one of the contraband methods, often had recourse to, for the
introduction of forbidden liquors. The boot is sent apparently to the
shoemaker, containing an empty bottle, which returns, by the same
conveyance, filled with the prohibited article.

On the important topic of practical instruction, the Convention appear
to have entered at some length; but, seemingly, with the same discursive
irregularity, that characterizes all their other deliberations. We
observe no method,--no lucid exposition, and no evident conclusion. A
great part of their discussion was connected with the question, "whether
students should be confined to their classes, or allowed to graduate,
when found prepared, on examination?" On this subject, again, we find
the most discordant sentiments. The majority, perhaps, are in favour of
what they term "_classification_," and adherence to "tried and
well-known courses;" whilst others, from the same premises, have arrived
at opposite conclusions:--the courses having been, in their opinion,
tried and found inadequate.

The most conflicting sentiments have been indulged on this point for
ages: whether, for example, it be advisable to permit a student to
select his own studies, or to compel him to enter and proceed with his
class: to pass a definite period at college, if desirous of attaining
honours, and to offer himself for graduation only in company with his
class.

Most of the older universities adhere to the system, which requires a
fixed course to be followed, and for a certain time. Many of the more
modern, on the other hand, permit a free choice; and some allow the
student to become a candidate for graduation, whenever he feels himself
competent to offer.

In the United States, with but one or two exceptions, we believe, the
antiquated system, with more or less modification, is adopted; and, in
most, the distinctions into freshman and sophomore, junior and senior
classes, prevail: the sciences only becoming predominant objects of the
student's attention in the two last. The course of study in each of
these continues for a year, and is the same for every student, whatever
may be his capacity or tastes. To be received into any of those upon the
old system, it is made indispensable, that he should be acquainted, to a
certain extent, with the Greek and Latin languages.

"No boy," says Mr. Gallatin, in an address characterized by the same
comprehensive and enlightened views, which we mark in every thing
emanating from that distinguished individual--"who has not previously
devoted a number of years to the study of the dead languages; no boy,
who, from defective memory, or want of aptitude for that particular
branch, may be deficient in that respect, can be admitted into any of
our colleges. And those seminaries do alone afford the means of
acquiring any other branch of knowledge. Whatever may be his inclination
or destination, he must, if admitted, apply one-half of his time to the
further study of those languages. It is self-evident, that the avenue to
every branch of knowledge is actually foreclosed by the present system,
against the greater part of mankind." _Journal_. P. 175.

Mr. Gallatin does not seem to have been aware that there is one
university in the Union to which his strictures do not apply--the
University of Virginia. In it the student, except in the schools of
ancient languages, mathematics, and natural philosophy, is subjected to
no preliminary examination; and, moreover, he is required to pass
through no definite course or term of study; to attend no particular
classes, but is left free to select his own studies. When he has once
embraced them, however, he is not permitted to relinquish them, unless
by request of his parent or guardian, and by the permission of the
faculty; and whenever he esteems himself sufficiently informed on the
subject taught in any one of his schools, he is permitted to become a
candidate for graduation in it. This system, which, so far as it goes,
will bear the test of rigid and philosophical examination more than any
other, prevails more or less in the German universities, and has been
adopted, we believe, in the new London University.

Professor Vethake of Princeton, New-Jersey--a communication from whom
was read to the convention, and which exhibits sound practical sense,
and ingenious and discriminating reflection--has exhibited the prevalent
inaccuracy of information, regarding the system adopted at the southern
university, to which, from its novelty, we have so frequently alluded.
"I see no objection," he remarks, "to render it obligatory on them (the
students) to attend at the same period of time, a certain number of
courses, unless specially exempted for sufficient reasons, as is now the
arrangement in the University of Virginia." _Journal_, P. 30. No such
arrangement exists in that institution. The professor has been guilty of
an _error loci_; the plan is pursued at the old college of William and
Mary, in Virginia.

In canvassing the comparative merits of the two systems, and, indeed, of
every point of college discipline and education, it is necessary to take
into consideration the age at which the students are received. In most
of our colleges they are admitted when mere boys, and the course of
instruction is necessarily made more elementary. In the University of
Virginia, on the other hand, no student is received under the age of
sixteen, and when, whatever may be the fact, it is to be presumed, that
the more elementary portion of his education has been completed, and
that he is now prepared for the prosecution of more advanced academic,
or for professional, studies. To adopt a rigid rule, that students of
this age should be compelled to pass a period of four or more years at
college, before they can offer themselves for honours; or that they
should be confined to classes, with boys, to whom a few years is a
matter of comparatively little moment, would be manifestly unreasonable.
This much is certain, that in this country few can spare the time in the
mere attainment of academical or preliminary information. The truth is,
our universities are, like those of Scotland now, and Oxford and
Cambridge in former times--both schools and colleges. The under graduate
course, in those venerable seats of learning, seems at first to have
corresponded precisely, in point of age, with that of the modern
schools. Many of the statutes, still in force at Oxford and Cambridge,
respecting the discipline of students, sufficiently attest the boyhood
of those for whom they were enacted. One of these directs corporal
chastisement for those who neglect their lessons. Another, at Cambridge,
prohibits the undergraduates from playing marbles on the steps of the
senate house. In process of time, excellent schools arose, at which the
ordinary preliminary education was obtained, and the period of resorting
to college became thus postponed. The dislike to innovation, which
augments in intensity according to the age of the establishment,
prevented, however, any modification in the course of scholastic
instruction, and thus it would seem was occasioned the length of time
consumed there in preliminary education.[3]

It will be manifest, that the objections to the system of classification
are not so numerous or so weighty in those colleges into which mere boys
are received. It has been repeatedly urged, that by such a system they
are compelled to study subjects foreign to their inclinations and
capacities; but, until the age of sixteen or seventeen, the mind cannot,
perhaps, be better employed than in the acquirement of such knowledge as
forms part of the course prescribed in the generality of our
universities. The great objection is, that those of all ages are
subjected to the same restrictions.

The opposite course, as it at present prevails at the University of
Virginia, is also liable to animadversion; the less, however, as the
students are not received under sixteen years of age. It will most
generally happen, that neither the youth, nor his parent nor guardian,
is sufficiently acquainted with the course he ought to adopt with the
view of being well educated; and if the youth be left solely to the
exercise of his own discretion, which is often a negative quantity, he
will be apt to select those schools that require the least application,
and are the most interesting, to the exclusion of more severe and
elementary subjects. The best system is that which turns out the
greatest number of well instructed individuals, or which holds out the
greatest amount of incentives to regular study. This cannot be
accomplished by any plan which leaves the student, or the parent or
guardian--often less competent than the student--to be the sole judge of
what should be the course of instruction in all cases. The University of
Virginia, which admits this system to the full extent--in no wise
controlling the choice of the student--affords us some elucidation of
the comparative value attached to different subjects of university
instruction, by the student, or by parents and guardians, and of the
disadvantages of this unrestricted plan. From the report of the rector
and visiters of that university for 1830, we find that there were
attending the

    School of Ancient Languages                  52
              Mathematics                        60
              Natural Philosophy                 47
              Moral Philosophy                   16

We have selected those subjects only, which constitute the usual course
of academic instruction; and which, we think, ought to constitute it.
The school of chemistry we have omitted, because it was composed of both
academic and professional students, with the ratio of which to each
other we are unacquainted. The probability also is, that some of those
attending the departments of natural and moral philosophy, were students
of law or medicine. From this list we find, that whilst the schools of
ancient languages, of mathematics, and of natural philosophy were well
attended, that of moral philosophy--one of eminent importance in forming
the youthful mind--was comparatively neglected. The two first
departments, as taught in most of our colleges, are the subject of the
first years' attention; the latter are esteemed more advanced studies,
and, where free agency is allowed the pupil, he will generally prefer
the study of matter, with the advantage of the beautiful and diversified
elucidations afforded by the advanced state of physical science, to that
of mind, with all its arid, but by no means sterile investigations.

We have said that, in the University of Virginia, the selection of
studies by the student is free and uncontrolled. An indirect influence
is, however, exerted by the graduation of the fees paid to the
professors. If the student attends but one professor, he is required to
pay $50; if two, $30 to each; if three or more, $25 to each. A similar
effect is produced by the enactment which requires that the student
shall enter three classes, unless his parent and guardian shall
authorize him, in writing, to attend fewer. Such regulations are
favourable only to diffusion of studies over three subjects; the evil
remains--of permitting the student to employ his own unassisted judgment
in the choice. Such a rule must, however, be generally inoperative. If
the collegiate regulation be known, the student will take care to
provide himself with the necessary authorization from his parent or
guardian; and if not known, it would be hard that the rule should apply.
But let us suppose that he arrives at the university without any such
authorization, and desires to join the elementary departments of ancient
languages and mathematics. When he discovers that he is required to
attend three schools, he will necessarily select one that may afford the
greatest attractions, and the attention to which may be esteemed
recreation rather than study. In such a case, the law, independently of
being productive of no clear advantage except that of adding to the
emolument of a greater number of professors, has the evil of compelling
an elementary student to adopt a more advanced subject of study, or, at
all events, an additional study to the disadvantage of the main object
for which he joined the university. Less objection would have existed,
if the regulation had required the student to attend _two_ schools under
such circumstances. He might then devote himself exclusively to
elementary studies; or, if more advanced, he could readily find a
collateral subject, which would not distract his attention from the main
department, and might form an agreeable and useful alternation.

The truth is, however, that the law is liable to all the objections
which apply to the old collegiate regulations, which make time the only
element of qualification for distinction. The board of visiters of that
university should have gone a step further, and instead of stating the
_number_ of schools which a pupil should be compelled to attend, unless
his parent or guardian wished otherwise, they should have recommended,
not enforced, a particular system of study for those desirous of
attaining high literary distinction, or of becoming well educated; still
retaining the valuable feature, that they, whose opportunities, tastes,
or capacities, do not admit of their following the recommendation, may
choose their own subjects.

What this system ought to be, we will now inquire into. It will enter
naturally into the consideration of the latter part of the question
canvassed before the Convention--"ought students to be confined to their
classes, or _allowed to receive degrees when found prepared on
examination_?" The affirmative of the proposition, as regards
graduation, seems to be the natural view; yet there are few institutions
at which this course is permitted. If the pupil be constrained to follow
a prescribed and unbending series of studies, as is the case in most of
the universities of this country and of Europe, it would appear to
result as naturally that the negative view should be adopted.

In the Convention, the most opposing sentiments were here again
elicited; and, as on other topics, they seem to have arrived at no fixed
conclusion; all that we are informed being, that "the discussion of the
topic was discontinued."

As regards the requisites for graduation in the different colleges of
the Union, they are as various as the colleges themselves. This
circumstance has, indeed, given occasion to the little estimation in
which the degrees are in general held. It often happens, in truth, that
the degree of Bachelor of Arts is conferred at one institution, on such
as would be utterly incapable of acquiring it at another; and, at the
close of his college career,--which differs in length in different
institutions,--every individual receives the first degree in the arts:
the examinations instituted being a matter of form, and, too often, of
farce. We cannot be surprised, then, that a degree, thus obtained,
should be contemned; and that, even in legislative assemblies, members
should be found to declare themselves totally unworthy of the honours
thus conferred upon them. This is not the case in the universities of
Europe. In the English universities, the Baccalaureate is made the test
of severe devotion to particular studies; and, whatever objections may
be made to the plan followed in those institutions, of requiring
accurate classical and mathematical knowledge, to the exclusion of every
thing else, the degree is, at all events, an evidence that the possessor
is unusually well instructed in those matters. Hence, we find in that
country the initials B. A. and M. A. proudly appended to the names of
the Bachelor or Master, and received by all as emblems of literary
distinction. How rarely do we see the title thus added in this country?
This comes from the causes already alluded to;--the degree is too easily
attained; and, when attained, is such an insufficient evidence of
learning, that it is discarded; and the parchment and the seal and
riband, and the pomp and ceremony of the day for the distribution of
honours, which excited so much juvenile exultation, are, in after life,
esteemed no criterion of literary distinction. We cannot, then, be
surprised, that one of the topics which engaged the Convention, was,
"whether the title of B. A. should be retained?"

To the title _Bachelor of Arts_, unmeaning as it derivatively is, we
have but little objection, provided certain definite ideas are attached
to it. In the University of Virginia, the term _graduate_ seems to be
considered more appropriate. We do not think it an improvement upon the
ancient appellation:--

    "Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well--
    Weigh them, it is as heavy."

But few appellatives, in their received acceptation, would be found to
correspond with their derivative meaning. The French have their
"Bachelors" and "Masters of Sciences," but these terms are not more
significant; whilst "Doctor" too often means any thing rather than
_doctus_--"Qui dit Docteur ne dit pas un homme docte, mais un homme qui
devrait être docte."

Every well devised system of education should combine an attention to
language; to the sciences relating to magnitude and numbers; and to
those that embrace the phenomena of mind and of matter.

Little doubt, we think, can exist in the minds of the intelligent, that
the ancient languages should form one element. Much has been said, and
much will continue to be said, on both sides of this question, into
which we do not propose to enter: admitting, however, that the Latin
language, for example, is less necessary now than when it was the
exclusive language of the learned, and that the modern languages have
emerged from their then _Patois_ condition, and risen in relative
importance, a certain knowledge of that tongue, as well as of the Greek,
ought still to form part of the education of every gentleman. The mind
of youth cannot be better engaged, during the early period of their
university career, than in becoming acquainted with the classic models
of antiquity, and practised in the habits of discrimination which the
study engenders. Whether it should be prosecuted to the extent
inculcated at the English universities, and to the comparative exclusion
of other subjects, is another question. In this country, at least, the
course would be injudicious and unfeasible, and has been canvassed by
Mr. Gallatin with that gentleman's usual felicity of exposition. The
illustrious founder of the University of Virginia appears, however, to
have had different views on this subject from those we have expressed;
and views which appear somewhat inconsistent with freedom of graduation
in the separate schools.

In the earliest copy of the enactments, (1825,) we find it stated,
amongst other matters relating to the attainment of honours, that "the
diploma of each shall express the particular school or schools in which
the candidate shall have been declared eminent, and shall be subscribed
by the particular professors approving it. But no diploma shall be given
to any one who has not passed such an examination in the Latin language
as shall have proved him able to read the highest classics in that
language with ease, thorough understanding, and just quantity. And if he
be also a proficient in the Greek, let that too be stated in the
diploma; the intention being that the reputation of the university shall
not be committed but to those, who, to an eminence in some one or more
of the sciences taught in it, add a proficiency in those languages which
constitute the basis of a good education, and are indispensable to fill
up the character of a 'well educated man.'"

Without dwelling on the unreasonableness of denying a diploma to one who
has sufficient knowledge of mathematics, or chemistry, or of natural or
moral philosophy, because he may not be thoroughly acquainted with
Latin, we cannot avoid expressing our surprise that it should not have
struck that philosophic individual, and his respectable colleagues, as
being a total prohibition to graduation in certain departments. To be
able "to read the highest classics in the Latin language with ease,
thorough understanding, and just quantity," would, of itself, require as
much time as the majority of our youths are capable of devoting to their
collegiate instruction. Accordingly, we find, from the printed
enactments, that the faculty judiciously suggested a modification of the
rule relating to graduation, which was confirmed by the board of
visiters. As it now stands, it merely requires that every candidate for
graduation, in any of the schools, shall give the faculty satisfactory
proof of his ability to write the _English language_ correctly.

For a _university degree_, then, the subject of ancient languages should
certainly be one element. This, we believe, is conceded in all colleges:
at least, the only exception with which we are acquainted, is that of
William and Mary, in Virginia.

As little doubt can there be, with regard to mathematics; which has, in
some institutions, been esteemed the study of primary importance. The
utility of a certain acquaintance with numbers and magnitude, is obvious
in every department of life; but the greatest advantage from the study,
is the precision and accuracy which it gives to the reasoning powers.
When the student has attained this more elementary instruction, he is
capable of undertaking, satisfactorily, the study of physics, and of
becoming acquainted with the bodies that surround him, and the laws that
govern them, as well as of entering upon the science of moral
philosophy, and of comprehending the interesting subject of his own
psychology.

These seem to be the only departments that need be acquired for a
university degree. They embrace an acquaintance with the ancient
classics, and the philosophy of language, as well as with mathematical,
physical, and metaphysical facts and reasonings; and their acquisition
enables the student to enter upon professional or political life with
every advantage.

We have said nothing, it will be observed, of the modern languages. The
valuable stores to be drawn from these, especially from the French and
German, are, of themselves, attractions which render unnecessary
collegiate restraint or recommendation. No one can now be esteemed well
educated, who is thoroughly ignorant of them.

It has been remarked that the student is permitted, in the University of
Virginia, to graduate in the separate schools; and that an evil exists
there, in no course of study being advised. The consequence of this is,
that few can be expected to remain, for any length of time, at that
institution. We would by no means interfere with this graduation in the
schools; but, in addition to this, there ought, we think, to be some
goal of more elevated attainment, which might excite the attention and
emulation of those whose opportunities admit of their being well
educated. Let it bear the title of _Bachelor of Arts_, or _Master of
Arts_, or _graduate_, and, if a definite meaning be affixed to it by the
college authorities, it cannot fail to be as well understood as the
unmeaning terms, sophomore, freshman, senior-wrangler, &c. and let the
requisites for this higher honour be graduation in, or a sufficient
knowledge of ancient languages, mathematics, natural philosophy, and
chemistry and moral philosophy. If this plan were universally adopted, a
certain degree of uniformity might exist amongst the different colleges:
the degree would be received as the test of literary merit, and the
possessor be proud of appending the title to his name. At present, as
Mr. Sparks has correctly observed, the "diplomas of this country, as
they are now estimated in the United States, appear to be of little
value."

The only other topic on which we shall pause, relates to the mode in
which instruction should be conveyed, and to the examinations to be
instituted, with the view of ascertaining comparative merit, and of
exciting emulation. On this subject, as is well known, the English
universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and that of Dublin, differ
essentially from the Scotch and many others: the latter teaching,
solely, by lectures delivered orally. The most successful plan is that
which combines both lectures and examinations. It is but rarely, that a
text book can be found to suit the views of the professor, and no
student pays the same degree of attention to a written composition. Even
in the departments of ancient languages and mathematics, where the
combination of lectures with examinations would appear most difficult, a
prælection, explaining the various points of the subsequent examination,
may be, and often is, premised with striking effect. In the ordinary
method of teaching the classics, little attention is paid, except to the
vocabulary; and many a student has thumbed his Horace for the fourth or
fifth time, without being aware of the import of the philological,
geographical, historical, and other allusions, with which the inimitable
productions of the satirist abound. The vocabulary is but the key, that
unlocks these various treasures. In a well devised prælection, _things_
can be thought as well as _words_. We do not, indeed, know any
department of science or literature, in which a union of prælections and
examinations may not be employed with advantage. There is, however,
another and a more serious objection to confining a student, in most
branches at least, to a text book:--the professor is not stimulated to
keep pace with the rapidly improving condition of science. If indolent
and devoid of enthusiasm, he confines the youth closely to the
text,--takes no pains to advance him farther,--and the student leaves
the institution with the most insufficient instruction on the subject.
The text books which are used at this time, in some of our colleges, and
have been so for the last fifty years, are melancholy evidences of the
imperfect mode in which particular studies are taught there, and of the
absence of all progress on the part of the teachers.

We believe the very best system of instruction, where it can be adopted,
is:--to recapitulate the subject of the preceding lecture, and, after
the lecture of the day, to examine the class thoroughly on the last
lecture but one. In this manner, the facts and theories of a science are
impressed three times, upon the memory of the pupil; and if, after this,
he is unable to retain them, he must be pronounced incorrigible. This
plan we conceive to be the superlative; and to this conclusion we are
led, not from theory simply, but from practice.

The nature of certain subjects, and the shortness of time appropriated,
in some institutions, to lecture, may, occasionally, preclude its
fulfilment: the nearer it can be accomplished, the better. Under this
plan, the text book becomes a matter of comparatively trifling
moment,--as the student will, of course, be understood to come prepared
for examination on the subject of the lecture, as delivered _ex
cathedrâ_.

With regard to _public examinations_, we need not dwell on the question
of their policy. All well-regulated universities in this country and
Great Britain, at least, have a system of rewards, as well as of
punishments; and this uniformity may be esteemed a fair criterion of the
opinions of the wise and reflecting of those countries on this topic.
However desirable it may be, that mankind should do their duty without
fear or expectation, every day's experience testifies that the hope of
reward, or the dread of punishment, powerfully influences their
exertions, not only for temporal, but eternal purposes.

In the German universities, there are neither daily, nor semi-annual,
nor annual examinations; and, accordingly, we are not much surprised to
find them objected to by some who had received their education in that
country. The difference, however, which prevails upon this point in the
best colleges of different parts of the globe, ought to have suggested
some slight qualification of the sweeping censures that were passed upon
the system in the Convention. "The semi-annual examinations," says Dr.
J. Leo Wolf, "as recommended by some of the gentlemen of the Convention,
lower the student to the rank of a schoolboy, while, being a man, as he
ought to be, they are useless, for he will know that it is for his own
good, to be assiduous in his studies. Moreover, the result of his
studies is proved at the time when he desires to graduate, and to be
licensed for the practice of his profession. Then he must pass a strict
rigid and public examination; and this I should warmly recommend. In
Prussia, these examinations are particularly severe, but quite impartial
and recorded." P. 251. So far as we can judge from the involved and
almost unintelligible twaddle contained in the address of Mr. Woodbridge
on the subject of discipline, we should conceive him opposed to these as
well as to all other means, which would excite the _emulation_ of the
student; thus discarding, on faulty metaphysical speculation, one of the
most powerful stimuli to all literary and honourable distinction; and
which, if rightly directed, can never, in collegiate life, act otherwise
than beneficially. Granting, then, that annual, or semi-annual public
examinations are of excellent policy in all higher schools, it remains
to inquire into the best mode of conducting them. The oral system is
that received into most of our colleges. In it the students are
necessarily interrogated on different subjects, so that it becomes a
matter of difficulty, nay of impracticability, to determine, with any
accuracy, their relative standing. Added to this, if the class be
numerous, it is impossible to put a sufficient number of questions to
each individual; and the bold and confident, will ever exhibit a
manifest advantage over the timid and retiring. In every respect, the
oral, seems to us to be inferior to the written examination, where
either is practicable. In the departments of the languages--ancient and
modern--an admixture of the two would always be requisite, for the
purpose of determining the student's acquaintance with quantity or
accent, etymology, syntax, &c.

The plan universally adopted into the higher schools of England, is that
by written answers. The students of a class are all furnished with the
same questions; and the answers to these are written in the examination
room. All communication between the examinants is prevented; and no book
allowed to be brought into the apartment. After the expiration of a
certain time the answers are collected.

The English method has, so far as we know, been received into one of our
universities only--the University of Virginia. It has now been practised
there for five years; and, we have reason to believe, the results have
been such, as to satisfy the faculty of its pre-eminence over the
methods usually practised. The following is its arrangement as published
in the _Virginia Literary Museum_.

    "1. The chairman of the faculty shall appoint for the
    examination of each school, a committee consisting of the
    professor of that school, and of two other professors. 2.
    The professor shall prepare, in writing, a series of
    questions to be proposed to his class, at their examination,
    and to these questions he shall affix numerical values,
    according to the estimate he shall form of their relative
    difficulty, the highest number being 100. The list, thus
    prepared, shall be submitted to the committee for their
    approbation. In the schools of languages, subjects may also
    be selected for oral examination. 3. The times of
    examination for the several schools shall be appointed by
    the chairman. 4. At the hour appointed, the students of the
    class to be examined shall take their places in the lecture
    room, provided with pens, ink, and paper. The written
    questions shall then, for the first time, be presented to
    them, and they shall be required to give the answers in
    writing with their names subscribed. 5. A majority of the
    committee shall always be present during the examination;
    and they shall see that the students keep perfect silence,
    do not leave their seats, and have no communication with one
    another or with other persons. When, in the judgment of the
    committee, sufficient time has been allowed for preparing
    the answers, the examination shall be closed, and all the
    papers handed in. 6. The professor shall then carefully
    examine and compare all the answers, and shall prepare a
    report, in which he shall mark, numerically, the value which
    he attaches to each: the highest number for any answer being
    that which had been before fixed upon as the value of the
    corresponding question. For the oral examinations, the
    values shall be marked at the time by the professor, with
    the approbation of the committee, but the number attached to
    any exercise of this kind shall not exceed 20. 7. This
    report shall be submitted to the committee, and if approved
    by them, shall be laid before the faculty, together with all
    the papers connected with it, which are to be preserved in
    the archives of the university. 8. The students shall be
    arranged into three separate divisions, according to the
    merit of their examinations as determined by the following
    method. The numerical values attached to all the questions
    are to be added together, and also the values of all the
    answers given by each student. If this last number exceeds
    three-fourths of the first, the student shall be ranked in
    the first division; if it be less than three-fourths, and
    more than one-fourth, in the second; and if less than
    one-fourth, in the third."

This scheme combines the advantages of affording both the _positive_ and
_relative_ standing of the pupil. And as those in the separate divisions
are arranged alphabetically, it does not necessarily expose the lowest
in the third division to the degradation and mortification, to which,
however, they are often richly entitled.

The plan of examinations for honours and prizes, in the University of
London, resembles the above essentially; differing from it, indeed, in
few particulars. It comprises one regulation, however, which might be
advantageously appended to the other. We copy it from the printed
"Regulations"--Session, 1828-29.

"The paper containing the answers must not be signed with the student's
own name, but with a mark or motto; and the name of the student using
it, inclosed in a sealed envelope, inscribed with the mark or motto must
be left with the professor, to be opened after the merit of the answers
shall have been determined." This prevents the possibility of
favouritism, in all classes, which are so large that the professor does
not become acquainted with the autographs of his students. The
examinants are there also placed, according to the merits of their
answers, in classes, denominated the _first_, _second_, and _third_;
provided the sum of their answers be equal to a certain amount; all
below this point are not classed.

We have now touched upon the most important topics presented by the
committee for the consideration of the Convention. Several others were
propounded, but they seem to have fallen still-born from their authors.
As regards the 11th, 12th, and 14th, "whether any religious service,
and, if any, what may with propriety be connected with a
university?"--"Whether any course of instruction on the evidences of
Christianity will be admissible?"--And, "Is it proper to introduce the
Bible as a classic in the institutions of a Christian country?" We shall
gladly follow the example of prudence exhibited by the Convention, and
pass them over. The affirmative view of the last topic, meets with an
enthusiastic supporter in the author of one of the works, whose titles
are placed at the head of this article.

One proposition only remains, on which, in conclusion, we may indulge a
few remarks:--"The importance of adding a department of English
language, in which the studies of rhetoric and English classics shall be
minutely pursued." This subject, we regret to see, experienced the fate
of others, more deserving of neglect, and was not discussed.

We have long felt impressed, that the organization of our colleges is
defective in this respect. Into many of them the student is received,
after having been employed in scraping together a few Greek and Latin
words and phrases; yet lamentably ignorant of the literature, structure,
and even of the commonest principles of the orthography of his own
tongue. Such a chair ought to be established in all our universities,
and a certain degree of proficiency in the subjects embraced by it,
should be a preliminary to every collegiate attainment. It would be an
instructive and delightful study to trace back, as far as possible, the
language of Britain to its aboriginal condition, and to follow up the
changes impressed upon it, by the Celtic, Gothic, Roman, Saxon, Belgic,
Danish, and Norman invaders; the investigation being accompanied with
elucidative references to the literature of the different periods. The
poetry, romances, and the drama would constitute inquiries of abundant
interest and information. To these might be added didactic and
rhetorical exercises for improving the student in the practice of
writing--not merely accurately, but elegantly and perspicuously.

Such a professorship has been wisely established in the University of
London; and we trust the new University of New-York will follow the good
example. If we may judge, indeed, from the ungrammatical and inelegant
Journal of the Convention, an attention to this subject is as much
needed there as elsewhere; and were the professorship in the hands of an
accomplished individual, it could not fail to improve the literary taste
and execution of the community.


[Footnote 1: Memoir, Correspondence, &c. Vol. IV. P. 387.]

[Footnote 2: Ueber die verfassung und verwaltung deutscher
universitaten. Göttingen, 1801-2.]

[Footnote 3: Quarterly Review, Vol. XXXVI. P. 229.]




    ART. II.--_The Life and Times of His Late Majesty, George
    the Fourth: with Anecdotes of distinguished Persons of the
    last fifty years._ By the Rev. GEORGE CROLY, A. M. London:
    1830.


_C'est un métier que de faire un livre comme de faire une pendule_--it
is a trade to make a book just as much as to make a watch--is a remark
which was never better exemplified, than by the manner in which the
craftsmen of the book-making trade in London, have compressed the Life
of His Late Most Sacred Majesty, within the two covers of a volume. That
exalted personage may have descended to the tomb unwept and unhonoured,
in reality, however numerous the tears shed upon his bier, or gorgeous
the ceremonies attending his interment; but he certainly has not gone
down to it unsung, as the above work is only one of several, if we are
not much mistaken, in which his requiem has been chanted with becoming
loyalty. We have seen none of its fellows, though the advertisement of
them has met our eye. Judging, however, from the reputation of its
author, there is not much literary boldness in pronouncing it the best
which has appeared about its kingly subject.

Mr. Croly is well known as a candidate of considerable pretensions, as
well for the honours of Parnassus, as for those which an elevated seat
on the prosaic mount, whatever may be its name, can confer. But, in
concocting this last production, it is beyond doubt, that the main
object he had in view, was one of a more substantial kind than a mere
increase of fame. "The Life, &c." is, in fact, a bookseller's job,
executed, we allow, by a man of genius. There are evident marks about it
of hasty and careless composition,--of a desire to make a book of a
certain number of pages, with as little trouble and delay as possible.
The style is often deficient in purity and correctness, and overloaded
with glittering tropes and ornaments, not always in good taste; the
arrangement wants consecutiveness and perspicuity; and attention is
sometimes bestowed upon topics comparatively unimportant, to the
detriment of such as are of more moment. But it is, on the whole, a work
of undeniable talent, containing much powerful writing, richness and
beauty of diction, graphic delineation of character, interesting
information, and amusing anecdote. Some of the author's sentiments are
obnoxious to censure, and we shall venture to disagree with him,
occasionally, as we proceed.

It was on the 8th of September, 1761, that His Majesty, George the
Third, espoused Sophia Charlotte, daughter of the Duke of Mecklenburg
Strelitz; and, on the twelfth of August, in the following year, she
presented him with a son and heir, to his own great delight, and the
universal joy of the British empire. Ineffable as is the contempt which
is expressed at the present day, for the superstitious trust reposed in
omens by the heathen ancients, yet nothing of any consequence occurs,
without being attended by signs in which the Christian multitude discern
either fortunate or disastrous predictions. It has thus been carefully
recorded and handed down, that the birth of the royal infant happened on
the anniversary of the Hanover accession, and that the same day was
rendered trebly auspicious, by the arrival at London of wagons
containing an immense quantity of treasure, the fruits of the capture of
a Spanish galleon off Cape St. Vincent, by three English frigates. A few
days after his appearance in this world, His Royal Highness was created
Prince of Wales, by patent, and would have been completely crushed under
the load of honours that devolved upon him, had their weight been of a
kind to be physically felt; Duke of Cornwall, hereditary Steward of
Scotland, Duke of Rothsay, Earl of Carrick, and Baron of Rothsay, were
his other titles,--being those to which the eldest son of the British
throne is born. There is no harm in this, perhaps, as things are
constituted in England, but we have never been able to think of one of
the titles to which the second son is heir, without feeling an
inclination to smile;--the Duke of York is Bishop of Osnaburgh;--nothing
more ridiculous than this, can be discovered even amid the nonsense that
is inseparable from regal institutions;--born a bishop!

At the time of the Prince of Wales's birth, George the Third was at the
height of popularity,--the reasons for which, Mr. Croly has detailed at
some length. In depicting the character of this monarch, he certainly
has not employed the pencil with which it was darkened, as our readers
may recollect, by Mr. Coke of Norfolk, on a recent occasion, who thus
brought upon his own head a torrent of abuse. It was shocking, was it
said, to disturb the repose of one who had so long been slumbering in
the tomb, in the same way as it had been pronounced monstrous to say
aught in disparagement of His Majesty, when he had just been gathered to
his forefathers; as if kings were like private individuals, the effects
of whose acts either expire with themselves, or are of contracted
influence. It is far, however, from our wish, to dispute the fidelity of
Mr. Croly's portrait; and we are perfectly willing to believe, that "no
European throne had been ascended for a hundred years before, by a
sovereign more qualified by nature and circumstances, to win golden
opinions from his people, than George the Third," though, we must be
allowed to think, that circumstances did not qualify him to win "golden
opinions" from us Americans. "Youth, striking appearance, a fondness not
less for the gay and peaceful amusements of court life, than for those
field sports, which make the popular indulgence of the English
land-holder, a strong sense of the national value of scientific and
literary pursuits, piety unquestionably sincere, and morals on which
even satire never dared to throw a stain, were the claims of the king to
the approbation of his people;" but all these claims were neutralized,
by the appointment of Lord Bute, as his prime minister. The odium that
resulted from this measure, was carefully fomented by the arts of
demagogues, the most conspicuous of whom was Wilkes. It was ascribed to
an unworthy passion entertained for the handsome nobleman by the
princess dowager, and to arbitrary principles in the monarch; and, such
was the effect produced upon the latter, by the opposition and virulence
which he encountered, that he is said to have conceived the idea of
abandoning England, and retiring to Hanover. At one time, his
inclination to take this step was so great, that he communicated it to
the Lord Chancellor Thurlow, who honestly told him, that, "though it
might be easy to go to Hanover, it might be difficult to return to
England."

In December, 1765, when not quite three years of age, the Prince of
Wales received a deputation from the Society of Ancient Britons, on St.
David's day, and, in answer to their address, said,--"he thanked them
for this mark of duty to the king, and wished prosperity to the
charity,"--an early development of that talent for public speaking,
which he is said to have possessed! In the same year, he was invested
with the order of the garter, along with the Earl of Albemarle, and the
hereditary Prince of Brunswick.

When the Prince had attained an age at which it was deemed necessary for
his education to commence, it was determined that it should be conducted
on a private plan; and Lord Holdernesse, "a nobleman of considerable
attainments, but chiefly recommended by dignity of manner and knowledge
of the court," was appointed his governor, and Dr. Markham, subsequently
archbishop of York, and Cyril Jackson, were named preceptor and
sub-preceptor. This measure excited a violent outcry; it was said that
the heir to the throne should receive a public education at one of the
great schools; and this opinion Mr. Croly strenuously advocates. It did
not, however, produce any effect, and the whole course of instruction
which the Prince underwent was private, though the preceptorship was
twice changed. The Duke of Montague, Hurd, Bishop of Litchfield, and the
Rev. Mr. Arnold, formed the last preceptorial trio.

In January, 1781, when the Prince was but a little more than eighteen,
he was declared of age, "on the old ground that the heir-apparent knows
no minority;" and a separate establishment, on a small scale, having
been assigned to him, he now became, in a measure, his own master. In
1783, when about to take his place in the legislature, arrangements were
commenced for supplying him with an income, and at the instigation of
the king, the parliament voted him an annual revenue of £50,000, besides
an outfit of £100,000. The sum of £60,000 for the outfit had been
originally proposed by the king, but it was increased in consequence of
the demand of the cabinet, known by the name of the Coalition Cabinet,
some of the members of which, especially Fox, insisted for a time upon
making the grant £100,000 a year. This, however, the king resolutely
refused to allow, "for the double reason of avoiding any unnecessary
increase to the public burdens, and of discouraging those propensities
which he probably conjectured in the Prince." He accordingly demanded
"_but_" the sums we have mentioned. Can any one read the sentence just
quoted from Mr. Croly, without a smile? The precious fruits of
royalty!--they even reduce a man of sense to write what is ludicrous
from its absurdity. It is, without doubt, an admirable method of
avoiding any unnecessary increase of the public burdens, and
discouraging the evil propensities of a young man, to deprive the people
of five hundred thousand dollars at once, and half that sum every year,
in order to bestow it upon the individual who has no other use for it
than to gratify those propensities. But, we shall be told, the heir to a
throne must support his dignity. In that phrase is comprised as
unanswerable an argument against royal institutions, as can be desired.
The people must be heavily burthened, to enable the person by whom they
are to be governed, to indulge in all sorts of excesses, and thus
disqualify himself for that duty, in order that he may support the
dignity of his station! Thank Heaven we live in a land in which there is
no such dignity to be supported,--where the time of the great officers
of state is never occupied in wrangling about the extent of the
facilities which shall be afforded the successor to the administration
of affairs, of bringing disgrace upon himself, and the country,--where
the people are infinitely better governed, at an infinitely less
expense, both of money and honour!

"Now, fully," says Mr. Croly, "began his checkered career,"--which,
properly interpreted, means, that now he fully plunged into that
reckless course of profligacy and folly, which terminated only with his
life, and which should render his name odious to all who are friends of
decency and virtue. We were afraid when we saw the announcement of the
work we are reviewing, that its author would allow himself to be blinded
by the regal blaze which surrounded its subject, and would endeavour to
palliate those violations by a king, of the most sacred ordinances of
the religion of which he is a minister, which he would have branded with
indelible infamy in a private individual. Our fears, unfortunately, have
not proved groundless. "There are no faults that we discover with more
proverbial rapidity, than the faults of others,--and none that generate
a more vindictive spirit of virtue, and are softened down by fewer
attempts at palliation, than the faults of princes in the grave. Yet,
without justice, history is but a more solemn libel; and no justice can
be done to the memory of any public personage, without considering the
peculiar circumstances of his time." Such is the sophistry with which he
enters upon the task of extenuation. The first part of the first period
in the above extract, is certainly undeniable--"fit nescio quomodo,"
says Cicero, "ut magis in aliis cernamus si quid delinquitur, quam
nobismet in ipsis;" but, though the second part may also be indisputable
as a general position, it is not at all applicable to this case. The
historian or biographer, who is discussing the character of a monarch
long since "fixed in the tomb," will doubtless find it an easy matter to
make

    "His virtues fade, his vices bloom,"

should he be so inclined: no other considerations but those of
conscience operate then to influence his pen. But the case is quite
different when he is writing about a king scarcely yet cold in the
grave, when a species of popular infatuation commands that grave to be
strewn with flowers, when it is necessary, as it were, to sail with the
stream or sink; and when the brother of the deceased monarch has just
ascended the throne, and, for the sake of appearances, may deem himself
called upon to consider every thing said concerning his predecessor as
touching himself. How many motives combine here to warp the judgment and
the conscience, and convert sober history into funeral panegyric! Thus,
if Mr. Croly had undertaken the task of delineating the moral features
of Richard the III., or of James the II.--we adduce James the II.,
because our author seems to regard Catholicity as so monstrous a crime
that this prince would, we are sure, not be drawn by him in the most
flattering colours--he would have found, to use his own words, that
there are no faults which generate a more vindictive spirit of virtue,
than those of princes in the grave; but in depicting George the IVth.,
he has proved the reverse of this to be the fact. It is amusing,
although at the same time melancholy, to contrast the virtuous
indignation with which he pours out his anathemas against those who
committed the tremendous crime of advocating and effecting the
emancipation of the Catholics, with the gentle terms in which he
comments upon the wanderings of the Prince of Wales from the proper
path, and the glosses with which he softens their obliquity. One might
be induced to suppose that his creed holds religious liberality as the
crime of deadly dye, and dissipation of the lowest kind as a vice merely
venial in its character.

"Without justice," he continues "history is but a more solemn libel, and
no justice can be done to the memory of any public personage, without
considering the peculiar circumstances of his time." This remark is true
with regard to those public personages whom he has so severely taken to
task for their conduct respecting the Catholic question; had not his
mind's eye been covered with a film, he would have perceived that the
"peculiar circumstances of the time" fully warranted that change in the
course pursued by Mr. Peel, the Duke of Wellington, and others, with
reference to that important question, which has drawn from him such
expressions of horror; but it is far from being equally admissible where
he has applied it. That less tenderness should be extended towards the
vices of princes than to those of subjects is, we think, undeniable,
when the weightier (secular) reasons they have for keeping a strict
control over their passions, are considered,--reasons which should
completely counterbalance any greater temptations they may be obliged to
undergo.

    "A sovereign's great example forms a people;
    The public breast is noble or is vile,
    As he inspires it."

    "The man whom Heaven appoints
    To govern others, should himself first learn
    To bend his passions to the sway of reason."

Surely these two considerations--the potent effect of his example, and
the almost impossibility of governing others when not able to govern
himself--without referring to that paramount one which operates for all
men alike, ought to have been sufficient to counteract the tendency of
"the peculiar circumstances of his time," to inflame the "propensities"
of the Prince; or, at least, should be enough to prevent an extenuation
on that ground, of his unrestrained indulgence of them, by the historian
of his life. What those circumstances were, we will let Mr. Croly
relate.

    "The peace of 1782 threw open the continent; and it was
    scarcely proclaimed, when France was crowded with the
    English nobility. Versailles was the centre of all that was
    sumptuous in Europe. The graces of the young queen, then in
    the pride of youth and beauty; the pomp of the royal family
    and the noblesse; and the costliness of the fêtes and
    celebrations, for which France has been always famous,
    rendered the court the dictator of manners, morals, and
    politics, to all the higher ranks of the civilized world.
    But the Revolution was now hastening with the strides of a
    giant upon France: the torch was already waving over the
    chambers of this morbid and guilty luxury. The corrective
    was terrible: history has no more stinging retrospect than
    the contrast of that brilliant time with the days of shame
    and agony that followed--the untimely fate of beauty, birth,
    and heroism,--the more than serpent-brood that started up in
    the path which France once emulously covered with flowers
    for the step of her rulers,--the hideous suspense of the
    dungeon,--the heart-broken farewell to life and royalty upon
    the scaffold. But France was the grand corruptor; and its
    supremacy must in a few years have spread incurable disease
    through the moral frame of Europe.

    "The English men of rank brought back with them its
    dissipation and its infidelity. The immediate circle of the
    English court was clear. The grave virtue of the king held
    the courtiers in awe; and the queen, with a pious wisdom,
    for which her name should long be held in honour,
    indignantly repulsed every attempt of female levity to
    approach her presence. But beyond this sacred circle, the
    influence of foreign association was felt through every
    class of society. The great body of the writers of England,
    the men of whom the indiscretions of the higher ranks stand
    most in awe, had become less the guardians than the seducers
    of the public mind. The 'Encyclopédie,' the code of
    rebellion and irreligion still more than of science, had
    enlisted the majority in open scorn of all that the heart
    should practise or the head revere; and the Parisian
    atheists scarcely exceeded the truth, when they boasted of
    erecting a temple that was to be frequented by worshippers
    of every tongue. A cosmopolite, infidel republic of letters
    was already lifting its front above the old sovereignties,
    gathering under its banners a race of mankind new to public
    struggle,--the whole secluded, yet jealous and vexed race of
    labourers in the intellectual field, and summoning them to
    devote their most unexhausted vigour and masculine ambition
    to the service of a sovereign, at whose right and left, like
    the urns of Homer's Jove, stood the golden founts of glory.
    London was becoming Paris in all but the name. There never
    was a period when the tone of our society was more polished,
    more animated, or more corrupt. Gaming, horse-racing, and
    still deeper deviations from the right rule of life, were
    looked upon as the natural embellishments of rank and
    fortune. Private theatricals, one of the most dexterous and
    assured expedients to extinguish, first the delicacy of
    woman, and then her virtue, were the favourite indulgence;
    and, by an outrage to English decorum, which completed the
    likeness to France, women were beginning to mingle in public
    life, try their influence in party, and entangle their
    feebleness in the absurdities and abominations of political
    intrigue. In the midst of this luxurious period the Prince
    of Wales commenced his public career. His rank alone would
    have secured him flatterers; but he had higher titles to
    homage. He was, then, one of the handsomest men in Europe:
    his countenance open and manly; his figure tall, and
    strikingly proportioned; his address remarkable for easy
    elegance, and his whole air singularly noble. His
    contemporaries still describe him as the model of a man of
    fashion, and amusingly lament over the degeneracy of an age
    which no longer produces such men.

    "But he possessed qualities which might have atoned for a
    less attractive exterior. He spoke the principal modern
    languages with sufficient skill; he was a tasteful musician;
    his acquaintance with English literature was, in early life,
    unusually accurate and extensive; Markham's discipline, and
    Jackson's scholarship, had given him a large portion of
    classical knowledge; and nature had given him the more
    important public talent of speaking with fluency, dignity,
    and vigour.

    "Admiration was the right of such qualities, and we can feel
    no surprise if it were lavishly offered by both sexes. But
    it has been strongly asserted, that the temptations of
    flattery and pleasure were thrown in his way for other
    objects than those of the hour; that his wanderings were
    watched by the eyes of politicians; and that every step
    which plunged him deeper into pecuniary embarrassment was
    triumphed in, as separating him more widely from his natural
    connexions, and compelling him in his helplessness to throw
    himself into the arms of factions alike hostile to his
    character and his throne."

Our readers may compare the above portrait of his royal highness, with
that which Mr. Jefferson draws of him in one of his letters.

In 1787, the Prince had involved himself in debt to such an amount, that
it was found necessary to solicit Parliament, not only for a sum
sufficient to liquidate his obligations, but also for an increase of his
income, the salary first granted having proved quite inadequate for his
royal propensities. The following account of his debts and expenditure
was laid before the House of Commons, and furnishes a teeming commentary
on the blessings of hereditary government. In considering this matter,
one might be tempted to regard Parliament as a species of eleemosynary
institution, for the relief of insolvent royalty.

    _Debts._

    Bonds and debts,               £13,000
    Purchase of houses,              4,000
    Expenses of Carlton House,      53,000
    Tradesmen's bills,              90,804
                                  --------
                                  £160,804

    _Expenditure from July 1783, to July 1786._

    Household, &c.,                £29,277
    Privy purse,                    16,050
    Payments made by Col. Hotham,
      particulars delivered in
      to his majesty,               37,203
    Other extraordinaries,          11,406
                                  --------
                                   £93,936
    Salaries,                       54,734
    Stables,                        37,919
    Mr. Robinson's,                  7,059
                                  --------
                                  £193,648

The debate upon the grant was of a highly animated character, and in the
course of it the Prince was not spared. He was befriended by the
opposition, with Fox at its head, having thrown himself into the arms of
that party, who were endeavouring in every way to drive Pitt from his
ministerial seat. But in this instance, as in most others, the latter
succeeded in carrying his point; in consequence of which, £161,000 were
issued out of the civil list to pay the Prince's debts, and £20,000 for
the completion of Carlton House, but no augmentation of his income was
allowed. "Hopeless of future appeal, stung by public rebuke, and
committed before the empire in hostility to the court and the minister,
the Prince was now thrown completely into Fox's hands."

Perhaps the two most interesting chapters in Mr. Croly's book, are those
entitled "the Prince's friends," in which he has brought into review
most of the principal characters of that period of intellectual giants,
whose renown continues to shed increasing lustre around the political
and literary horizon of England. The world is never tired of reading
whatever has reference to those personages, and a book that professes to
speak respecting them, may be said to possess a sure passport to public
favour at the present day. Well may the old man now living in England,
the prime of whose life was passed in that time, be allowed to be a
"laudator temporis acti," without having it imputed to the fond weakness
of senility. We shall make copious extracts from this portion of our
author's work.

    "England had never before seen such a phalanx armed against
    a minister. A crowd of men of the highest natural talents,
    of the most practised ability, and of the first public
    weight in birth, fortune, and popularity, were nightly
    arrayed against the administration, sustained by the
    solitary eloquence of the young Chancellor of the Exchequer.

    "Yet Pitt was not careless of followers. He was more than
    once even charged with sedulously gathering round him a host
    of subaltern politicians, whom he might throw forward as
    skirmishers,--or sacrifices, which they generally were.
    Powis, describing the 'forces led by the right honourable
    gentleman on the treasury bench,' said, 'the first
    detachment may be called his body-guard, who shoot their
    little arrows against those who refuse allegiance to their
    chief.' This light infantry were of course, soon scattered
    when the main battle joined. But Pitt, a son of the
    aristocracy, was an aristocrat in all his nature, and he
    loved to see young men of family around him; others were
    chosen for their activity, if not for their force, and some,
    probably, from personal liking. In the later period of his
    career, his train was swelled by a more influential and
    promising race of political worshippers, among whom were
    Lord Mornington, since Marquess Wellesley; Ryder, since Lord
    Harrowby; and Wilberforce, still undignified by title, but
    possessing an influence, which, perhaps, he values more. The
    minister's chief agents in the house of commons, were Mr.
    Grenville (since Lord Grenville) and Dundas.

    "Yet, among those men of birth or business, what rival could
    be found to the popular leaders on the opposite side of the
    house,--to Burke, Sheridan, Grey, Windham, or to Fox, that

        "'Prince and chief of many throned powers,
        Who led the embattled seraphim to war.'"

    Without adopting the bitter remark of the Duke de Montausier
    to Louis the Fourteenth, in speaking of Versailles:--'Vous
    avez beau faire, sire, vous n'en ferez jamais qu'un favori
    sans mérite,' it was impossible to deny their inferiority on
    all the great points of public impression. A debate in that
    day was one of the highest intellectual treats: there was
    always some new and vigorous feature in the display on both
    sides; some striking effort of imagination or masterly
    reasoning, or of that fine sophistry, in which, as was said
    of the vices of the French noblesse, half the evil was
    atoned by the elegance. The ministerialists sarcastically
    pronounced that, in every debate, Burke said something which
    no one else ever said; Sheridan said something that no one
    else ought to say, and Fox something that no one else would
    dare to say. But the world, fairer in its decision, did
    justice to their extraordinary powers; and found in the
    Asiatic amplitude and splendour of Burke; in Sheridan's
    alternate subtlety and strength, reminding it at one time of
    Attic dexterity, and another of the uncalculating boldness
    of barbarism; and in Fox's matchless English
    self-possession, unaffected vigour, and overflowing
    sensibility, a perpetual source of admiration.

    "But it was in the intercourses of social life that the
    superiority of Opposition was most incontestable. Pitt's
    life was in the senate; his true place of existence was on
    the benches of that ministry, which he conducted with such
    unparalleled ability and success: he was, in the fullest
    sense of the phrase, a public man; and his indulgences in
    the few hours which he could spare from the business of
    office, were more like the necessary restoratives of a frame
    already shattered, than the easy gratifications of a man of
    society: and on this principle we can safely account for the
    common charge of Pitt's propensity to wine. He found it
    essential, to relieve a mind and body exhausted by the
    perpetual pressure of affairs: wine was his medicine: and it
    was drunk in total solitude, or with a few friends from whom
    the minister had no concealment. Over his wine the speeches
    for the night were often concerted; and when the dinner was
    done, the table council broke up only to finish the night in
    the house.

    "But with Fox, all was the bright side of the picture. His
    extraordinary powers defied dissipation. No public man of
    England ever mingled so much personal pursuit of every thing
    in the form of indulgence with so much parliamentary
    activity. From the dinner he went to the debate, from the
    debate to the gaming-table, and returned to his bed by
    day-light, freighted with parliamentary applause, plundered
    of his last disposable guinea, and fevered with
    sleeplessness and agitation; to go through the same round
    within the next twenty-four hours. He kept no house; but he
    had the houses of all his party at his disposal, and that
    party were the most opulent and sumptuous of the nobility.
    Cato and Antony were not more unlike, than the public
    severity of Pitt, and the native and splendid dissoluteness
    of Fox.

    "They were unlike in all things. Even in such slight
    peculiarities as their manner of walking into the house of
    commons, the contrast was visible. From the door Pitt's
    countenance was that of a man who felt that he was coming
    into his high place of business. 'He advanced up the floor
    with a quick firm step, with the head erect, and thrown
    back, looking to neither the right nor the left, nor
    favouring with a glance or a nod any of the individuals
    seated on either side, among whom many of the highest would
    have been gratified by such a mark of recognition.' Fox's
    entrance was lounging or stately, as it might happen, but
    always good-humoured; he had some pleasantry to exchange
    with every body, and until the moment when he rose to speak,
    continued gaily talking with his friends."

           *     *     *     *     *

    "Of all the great speakers of a day fertile in oratory,
    Sheridan had the most conspicuous natural gifts. His figure,
    at his first introduction into the house, was manly and
    striking; his countenance singularly expressive, when
    excited by debate; his eye large, black, and intellectual;
    and his voice one of the richest, most flexible, and most
    sonorous, that ever came from human lips. Pitt's was
    powerful, but monotonous; and its measured tone often
    wearied the ear. Fox's was all confusion in the commencement
    of his speech; and it required some tension of ear
    throughout to catch his words. Burke's was loud and bold,
    but unmusical; and his contempt for order in his sentences,
    and the abruptness of his grand and swelling conceptions,
    that seemed to roll through his mind like billows before a
    gale, often made the defects of his delivery more striking.
    But Sheridan, in manner, gesture, and voice, had every
    quality that could give effect to eloquence.

    "Pitt and Fox were listened to with profound respect, and in
    silence, broken only by occasional cheers; but from the
    moment of Sheridan's rising, there was an expectation of
    pleasure, which to his last days was seldom disappointed. A
    low murmur of eagerness ran round the house; every word was
    watched for, and his first pleasantry set the whole
    assemblage in a roar. Sheridan was aware of this; and has
    been heard to say, 'that if a jester would never be an
    orator, yet no speaker could expect to be popular in a _full
    house_, without a jest; and that he always made the
    experiment, good or bad; as a laugh gave him the country
    gentlemen to a man.'

    "In the house he was always formidable; and though Pitt's
    moral or physical courage never shrank from man, yet
    Sheridan was the antagonist with whom he evidently least
    desired to come into collision, and with whom the collision,
    when it did occur, was of the most fretful nature. Pitt's
    sarcasm on him as a theatrical manager, and Sheridan's
    severe, yet fully justified retort, are too well known to be
    now repeated; but there were a thousand instances of that
    'keen encounter of their wits,' in which person was more
    involved than party."

           *     *     *     *     *

    "Burke was created for parliament. His mind was born with a
    determination to things of grandeur and difficulty.

        "'Spumantemque dari, pecora inter inertia, votis
        Optat aprum, aut fulvum descendere monte leonem.'"

    Nothing in the ordinary professions, nothing in the trials
    or triumphs of private life, could have satisfied the noble
    hunger and thirst of his spirit of exertion. This quality
    was so predominant, that to it a large proportion of his
    original failures, and of his unfitness for general public
    business, which chiefly belongs to detail, is to be traced
    through life. No Hercules could wear the irresistible
    weapons and the lion's skin with more natural supremacy; but
    none could make more miserable work with the distaff.
    Burke's magnitude of grasp, and towering conception, were so
    much a part of his nature, that he could never forego their
    exercise, however unsuited to the occasion. Let the object
    be as trivial as it might, his first instinct was to turn it
    into all shapes of lofty speculation, and try how far it
    could be moulded and magnified into the semblance of
    greatness. If he had no large national interest to summon
    him, he winged his tempest against a turnpike bill; or flung
    away upon the petty quarrels and obscure peculations of the
    underlings of office, colours and forms that might have
    emblazoned the fall of a dynasty."

           *     *     *     *     *

    "Erskine, like many other characters of peculiar liveliness,
    had a morbid sensibility to the circumstances of the moment,
    which sometimes strangely enfeebled his presence of mind;
    any appearance of neglect in his audience, a cough, a yawn,
    or a whisper, even among the mixed multitude of the courts,
    and strong as he was there, has been known to dishearten him
    visibly. This trait was so notorious, that a solicitor,
    whose only merit was a remarkably vacant face, was said to
    be often planted opposite to Erskine by the adverse party,
    to yawn when the advocate began.

    "The cause of his first failure in the house, was not unlike
    this curious mode of disconcerting an orator. He had been
    brought forward to support the falling fortunes of Fox, then
    struggling under the weight of the 'coalition.' The 'India
    Bill' had heaped the king's almost open hostility on the
    accumulation of public wrath and grievance which the
    ministers had with such luckless industry been employed
    during the year in raising for their own ruin. Fox looked
    abroad for help; and Gordon, the member for Portsmouth, was
    displaced from his borough, and Erskine was brought into the
    house, with no slight triumph of his party, and perhaps some
    degree of anxiety on the opposite side. On the night of his
    first speech, Pitt, evidently intending to reply, sat with
    pen and paper in his hand, prepared to catch the arguments
    of this formidable adversary. He wrote a word or two;
    Erskine proceeded; but with every additional sentence Pitt's
    attention to the paper relaxed; his look became more
    careless; and he obviously began to think the orator less
    and less worthy of his attention. At length, while every eye
    in the house was fixed upon him, he, with a contemptuous
    smile, dashed the pen through the paper, and flung them on
    the floor. Erskine never recovered from this expression of
    disdain; his voice faltered, he struggled through the
    remainder of his speech, and sank into his seat dispirited
    and shorn of his fame.

    "But a mind of the saliency and variety of Erskine's, must
    have distinguished itself wherever it was determined on
    distinction; and it is impossible to believe, that the
    master of the grave, deeply-reasoned, and glowing eloquence
    of this great pleader, should not have been able to bring
    his gifts with him from Westminster-hall to the higher altar
    of parliament. There were times when his efforts in the
    house reminded it of his finest effusions at the bar. But
    those were rare. He obviously felt that his place was not in
    the legislature; that no man can wisely hope for more than
    one kind of eminence; and except upon some party emergency,
    he seldom spoke, and probably never with much expectation of
    public effect. His later years lowered his name; by his
    retirement from active life, he lost the habits forced upon
    him by professional and public rank; and wandered through
    society, to the close of his days, a pleasant idler; still
    the gentleman and the man of easy wit, but leaving society
    to wonder what had become of the great orator, in what
    corner of the brain of this perpetual punster and
    story-teller, this man of careless conduct and rambling
    conversation, had shrunk the glorious faculty, that in
    better days flashed with such force and brightness; what
    cloud had absorbed the lightnings that had once alike
    penetrated and illumined the heart of the British nation."

The following investigation of the authorship of Junius will be read
with interest.

    "The trial of Hastings had brought Sir Philip Francis into
    public notice, and his strong Foxite principles introduced
    him to the prince's friends. His rise is still unexplained.
    From a clerk in the War-office, he had been suddenly exalted
    into a commissioner for regulating the affairs of India, and
    sent to Bengal with an appointment, estimated at ten
    thousand pounds a-year. On his return to England he joined
    Opposition, declared violent hostilities against Hastings,
    and gave his most zealous assistance to the prosecution;
    though the house of commons would not suffer him to be on
    the committee of impeachment. Francis was an able and
    effective speaker; with an occasional wildness of manner and
    eccentricity of expression, which, if they sometimes
    provoked a smile, often increased the interest of his
    statements.

    "But the usual lot of those who have identified themselves
    with any one public subject, rapidly overtook him. His
    temperament, his talents, and his knowledge, were all
    Indian. With the impeachment he was politically born, with
    it he lived, and when it withered away, his adventitious and
    local celebrity perished along with it. He clung to Fox for
    a few years after; but while the great leader of opposition
    found all his skill necessary to retain his party in
    existence, he was not likely to solicit a partisan at once
    so difficult to keep in order and to employ. The close of
    his ambitious and disappointed life was spent in ranging
    along the skirts of both parties, joining neither, and
    speaking his mind with easy, and perhaps sincere, scorn of
    both; reprobating the Whigs, during their brief reign, for
    their neglect of fancied promises; and equally reprobating
    the ministry, for their blindness to fancied pretensions.

    "But he was still to have a momentary respite for fame.
    While he was going down into that oblivion which rewards the
    labours of so many politicians; a pamphlet, ascribing
    Junius's letters to Sir Phillip, arrested his descent. Its
    arguments were plausible; and, for a while, opinion appeared
    to be in favour of the conjecture, notwithstanding a denial
    from the presumed Junius; which, however, had much the air
    of his feeling no strong dislike to being suspected of this
    new title to celebrity. But further examination extinguished
    the title; and left the secret, which had perplexed so many
    unravellers of literary webs, to perplex the grave idlers of
    generations to come.

    "Yet the true wonder is not the concealment; for a multitude
    of causes might have produced the continued necessity even
    after the death of the writer; but the feasibility with
    which the chief features of Junius may be fastened on almost
    every writer, of the crowd for whom claims have been laid to
    this dubious honour: while, in every instance, some
    discrepancy finally starts upon the eye, which excludes the
    claim.

    "Burke had more than the vigour, the information, and the
    command of language; but he was incapable of the virulence
    and the disloyalty. Horne Tooke had the virulence and the
    disloyalty in superabundance; but he wanted the cool sarcasm
    and the polished elegance, even if he could have been fairly
    supposed to be at once the assailant and the defender.
    Wilkes had the information and the wit; but his style was
    incorrigibly vulgar, and all its metaphors were for and from
    the mob: in addition, he would have rejoiced to declare
    himself the writer: his well-known answer to an inquiry on
    the subject was, 'Would to Heaven I had!' _Utinam
    scripsissem!_ Lord George Germaine has been lately brought
    forward as a candidate; and the evidence fully proves that
    he possessed the dexterity of style, the powerful and
    pungent remark, and even the individual causes of bitterness
    and partisanship, which might be supposed to stimulate
    Junius: but, in the private correspondence of Junius with
    his printer, Woodfall, there are contemptuous allusions to
    Lord George's conduct in the field, which at once put an end
    to the question of authorship.

    "Dunning possessed the style, the satire, and the
    partisanship; but Junius makes blunders in his law, of which
    Dunning must have been incapable. Gerard Hamilton
    (Single-speech) might have written the letters, but he never
    possessed the moral courage; and was, besides, so consummate
    a coxcomb, that his vanity must have, however involuntarily,
    let out the secret. The argument, that he was Junius; from
    his notoriously using the same peculiarities of phrase at
    the time when all the world was in full chase of the author,
    ought of itself to be decisive against him; for nothing can
    be clearer, than that the actual writer was determined on
    concealment, and that he would never have toyed with his
    dangerous secret so much in the manner of a school-girl,
    anxious to develop her accomplishments.

    "It is with no wish to add to the number of the
    controversialists on this bluestocking subject, that a
    conjecture is hazarded; that Junius will be found, if ever
    found, among some of the humbler names of the list. If he
    had been a political leader, or, in any sense of the word,
    an independent man, it is next to impossible that he should
    not have left some indication of his authorship. But it is
    perfectly easy to conceive the case of a private secretary,
    or dependent of a political leader, writing, by his command,
    and for his temporary purpose, a series of attacks on a
    ministry; which, when the object was gained, it was of the
    highest importance to bury, so far as the connexion was
    concerned, in total oblivion. Junius, writing on his own
    behalf, would have, in all probability, retained evidence
    sufficient to substantiate his title, when the peril of the
    discovery should have passed away, which it did within a few
    years; for who would have thought, in 1780, of punishing
    even the libels on the king in 1770? Or when, if the peril
    remained, the writer would have felt himself borne on a tide
    of popular applause high above the inflictions of law.

    "But, writing for another; the most natural result was, that
    he should have been _pledged_ to extinguish all proof of the
    transaction; to give up every fragment that could lead to
    the discovery at any future period; and to surrender the
    whole mystery into the hands of the superior, for whose
    purposes it had been constructed, and who, while he had no
    fame to acquire by its being made public, might be undone by
    its betrayal.

    "The marks of _private secretaryship_ are so strong, that
    all the probable conjectures have pointed to writers under
    that relation; Lloyd, the private secretary of George
    Grenville; Greatrakes, Lord Shelburne's private secretary;
    Rosenhagen, who was so much concerned in the business of
    Shelburne house, that he may be considered as a second
    secretary; and Macauley Boyd, who was perpetually about some
    public man, and who was at length fixed by his friends on
    Lord Macartney's establishment, and went with him to take
    office in India.

    "But, mortifying as it may be to the disputants on the
    subject, the discovery is now beyond rational hope; for
    Junius intimates his having been a spectator of
    parliamentary proceedings even further back than the year
    1743; which, supposing him to have been twenty years old at
    the time, would give more than a century for his experience.
    In the long interval since 1772, when the letters ceased:
    not the slightest clue has been discovered; though doubtless
    the keenest inquiry was set on foot by the parties assailed.
    Sir William Draper died with but one wish, though a
    sufficiently uncharitable one, that he could have found out
    his castigator, before he took leave of the world. Lord
    North often avowed his total ignorance of the writer. The
    king's reported observation to Gen. Desaguiliers, in 1772,
    'We know who Junius is, and he will write no more,' is
    unsubstantiated; and if ever made, was probably prefaced
    with a supposition; for no publicity ever followed; and what
    neither the minister of the day, nor his successors ever
    knew, could scarcely have come to the king's knowledge but
    by inspiration, nor remained locked up there but by a
    reserve not far short of a political error.

    "But the question is not worth the trouble of discovery;
    for, since the personal resentment is past, its interest can
    arise only from pulling the mask off the visage of some
    individual of political eminence, and giving us the amusing
    contrast of his real and his assumed physiognomy; or from
    unearthing some great unknown genius. But the leaders have
    been already excluded; and the composition of the letters
    demanded no extraordinary powers. Their secret information
    has been vaunted; but Junius gives us no more than what
    would now be called the 'chat of the clubs;' the currency of
    conversation, which any man mixing in general life might
    collect in his half-hour's walk down St. James's Street: he
    gives us no insight into the _purposes_ of government; of
    the _counsels_ of the _cabinet_ he knows nothing. The style
    was undeniably excellent for the purpose, and its writer
    must have been a man of ability. If it had been original, he
    might have been a man of genius; but it was notoriously
    formed on Col. Titus's letter, which from its strong
    peculiarities, is of easy imitation. The crime and the
    blunder together of Junius was, that he attacked the king, a
    man so publicly honest and so personally virtuous, that his
    assailant inevitably pronounced himself a libeller. But if
    he had restricted his lash to the contending politicians of
    the day, justice would have rejoiced in his vigorous
    severity. Who could have regretted the keenest application
    of the scourge to the Duke of Grafton, the most incapable of
    ministers, and the most openly and offensively profligate of
    men; to the indomitable selfishness of Mansfield; to the
    avarice of Bedford, the suspicious negotiator of the
    scandalous treaty of 1763; or to the slippered and
    drivelling ambition of North, sacrificing an empire to his
    covetousness of power?"

Mr. Croly has recorded a quantity of the "good things" that were said by
the wits of the day at the table of the Prince, who used the facilities
which his rank afforded him, of collecting around him all that was most
distinguished in intellect, with praiseworthy zeal. Had his companions
been chosen only from among that highest class, we might have quoted
with regard to him, the sentence of Cicero--"facillime et in optimam
partem, cognoscuntur adolescentes, qui se ad claros et sapientes viros,
bene consulentes rei publicæ, contulerunt: quibuscum si frequentes sunt,
opinionem afferunt populo, eorum fore se similes quos sibi ipsi
delegerint ad imitandum"--but unfortunately his intimacy was habitually
shared by far less worthy associates--persons whom it was contamination
to approach. Many of these _jeux d'esprit_ are of respectable antiquity;
we transcribe a few which are attributed to the Prince himself, as
specimens of royal humour.

    "The conversation turning on some new eccentricity of Lord
    George Gordon; his unfitness for a mob leader was instanced
    in his suffering the rioters of 1780 to break open the
    gin-shops, and, in particular, to intoxicate themselves by
    the plunder of Langdale's great distillery, in Holborn. 'But
    why did not Langdale defend his property?' was the question.
    'He had not the means,' was the answer. 'Not the means of
    defence?' said the prince; 'ask Angelo: he, a brewer, a
    fellow all his life long at _carte_ and _tierce_.'"

    "Sheridan was detailing the failure of Fox's match with Miss
    Pulteney. 'I never thought that any thing would result from
    it,' said the prince. 'Then,' replied Sheridan, 'it was not
    for want of sighs: he sat beside her cooing like a
    turtle-dove.'

    "'He never cared about it,' said the prince; 'he saw long
    ago that it was a _coup manqué_.'"

    "Fox disliked Dr. Parr; who, however, whether from personal
    admiration, or from the habit which through life humiliated
    his real titles to respect--that of fastening on the public
    favourites of the time, persecuted him with praise. The
    prince saw a newspaper panegyric on Fox, evidently from the
    Dr.'s pen; and on being asked what he thought of it,
    observed, that 'it reminded him of the famous epitaph on
    Machiavel's tomb,'--

        "'Tanto nomini nullum _Par_ elogium.'"

    "If English punning," says Mr. Croly, "be a proscribed
    species of wit; though it bears, in fact, much more the
    character of the 'chartered libertine,' every where
    reprobated, and every where received; yet classical puns
    take rank in all lands and languages. Burke's pun on 'the
    divine right of kings and toastmasters,'--the _jure
    de-vino_--perhaps stands at the head of its class. But in an
    argument with Jackson, the prince, jestingly, contended that
    trial by jury was as old as the time of Julius Cæsar; and
    even that Cæsar died by it. He quoted Suetonius: '_Jure_
    cæsus videtur.'"

In October, 1788, George the III. was afflicted with a mental disease,
which totally incapacitated him for the duties of government. We do not
wish to be unjustly harsh, but when we consider the irritability which,
as may be inferred from the anecdote we have related of the King's
intention to retire from England, must have formed a prominent trait in
his character, and the displeasure he could not help manifesting in his
communications to Parliament respecting the Prince's debts, it is
impossible to reject the idea that the conduct of the latter was a main
cause of his affliction.

He recovered, however, before the preliminary arrangements for the
entrance of the Prince upon the regency had been completed. From this
period up to the moment when the King became again a victim of the same
dreadful malady, from whose grasp he never afterwards was freed, the
Prince mixed no more with politics, but "abandoned himself," in the
words of our author, "to pursuits still more obnoxious than those of
public ambition." The course of his life was only varied by his
disastrous marriage with the unfortunate Caroline, Princess of
Brunswick. One of Mr. Croly's chapters is headed "the Prince's
Marriage," the next, "the Royal Separation." We need not occupy much
space with a subject which must be familiar to all of our readers, and
of which the details are as disgusting as they are pitiful. Of all the
foul stains upon the character of the royal profligate, it has stamped
the foulest. Every principle of honour, of virtue, of humanity, was
violated in the grossest manner.

That the Prince of Wales was morally guilty of the crime of bigamy in
marrying the Princess Caroline, we have no hesitation in asserting. No
one can doubt that Mrs. Fitzherbert had the claims of a wife upon him
previously to his entering into this second engagement, however it may
be attempted, as has been done by Mr. Croly, to deny such claims, upon
the ground that the connexion was void by the laws of the land, although
the ordinances of religion may have been complied with. If it can be
supposed, that the Prince was determined, whilst binding himself at the
altar of God by the most sacred vows, to take advantage of the laws of
the land to cast aside the solemn obligations he thus assumed, as soon
as it suited his convenience, in what a despicable situation is he
placed! Deceit, perjury, sacrilege, would be terms too weak for the act.
But Mr. Croly's own words are sufficient to prove that the lady was, and
is, considered to have been connected with him by other ties than those
of a mistress. He says, "she still enjoys at least the gains of the
connexion, and up to the hoary age of seventy-five, calmly draws her
salary of ten thousand pounds a year!" Would that salary be continued to
a mistress? It is evident from the English papers that Mrs. Fitzherbert
is treated with the greatest consideration by the present king and royal
family, and that she is received by them on the most intimate footing;
her name is recorded amongst those of the constant guests at the royal
table and social assemblages of every kind. On what other ground can
this circumstance be accounted for, than that she is regarded as a
sister-in-law by the sovereign, and as a reputable relative by his
family?

It is singular enough that Mr. Croly seems to consider a violation of
the laws of God less reprehensible than a violation of the laws of man.
Such at least is the unavoidable inference to be drawn from his remarks
on this matter. He is quite indignant at the idea of his Royal Highness
having married a woman of inferior rank, and a Roman Catholic (there is
the horrid part of the affair,) by which he would have been guilty of a
sin against the state, and evinces great anxiety to prove that the crime
was one of a much lighter dye--merely an adulterous connexion, by which
he transgressed one of the Divine Commandments. This Mr. Fox also
attempted to do in Parliament, when it was hinted by a member that the
_liaison_ was not of the character which usually subsists between
individuals in the relative rank of the Prince and the lady, and the
attempt was disgraceful enough even in a statesman--but in a minister of
religion!--we leave it however to speak for itself.

In 1811, George the III. was a second time a lunatic, and the Prince
ascended his throne, though only with the title of Regent, which he did
not change for that of King until 1820, when the nominal monarch died,
having survived his reason for nearly ten years. Ten years longer did
the Fourth George sway the sceptre of the noblest empire in the world;
and then he too mingled with the same dust as the meanest of his
subjects. "C'est ainsi," in the words of Bossuet, "que la puissance
divine, justement irritée centre notre orgueil, le pousse jusqu' au
néant, et que, pour égaler á jamais les conditions, elle ne fait de nous
tous qu' une même cendre."

During the last years of his life, George the IVth was the prey of
various maladies, with which a remarkably strong constitution enabled
him to struggle until the spring of 1830. His corporeal sufferings may
have been one cause of his almost entire seclusion at Windsor Castle,
where he was like the Grand Lama of Thibet, unseeing and unseen, except
by a chosen few, but it cannot be doubted that the knowledge of the
unpopularity under which he certainly laboured, had some effect in
producing the slight communication which took place between him and his
subjects. So notorious was his aversion to making an appearance in
London, that when he was first announced, last April, to be seriously
indisposed, it was rumoured for a time that the sickness was
fictitious--a mere pretence to avoid holding a levee which had been
fixed for a certain day in that month, and which was in consequence
deferred. But before the period had arrived to which it was postponed,
there was no longer a doubt that the angel of death was brandishing his
dart, and that there was little chance of averting the threatened
stroke. The bulletins which the royal physicians daily promulgated,
though couched in equivocal and unsatisfactory terms, shadowed out
impending dissolution. The reason of their ambiguity was currently
believed to be the circumstance, that the King insisted upon reading the
newspapers in which they were published; whilst the medical attendants
were anxious to withhold from him a knowledge of his true situation.

Besides being in the public prints, these bulletins appeared, in
manuscript copies, in the windows of almost every shop, and were
likewise shown every day at the Palace of St. James, by a lord and groom
in waiting, richly dressed, to all of the loving subjects who preferred
repairing thither for the satisfaction of their affectionate solicitude.
It was rather amusing to watch the manner in which this satisfaction was
obtained. The bulletins were thrust into the faces of all as they
entered into the great hall where the exhibitors were stationed, with
laudable earnestness and zeal, and most of the visiters looked with
great interest--upon the paintings with which the apartment was adorned.
The multitudes of persons, however, of both sexes, and often of high
distinction, who filled the rooms that were thrown open, during the
fashionable hours of the day, rendered it an entertaining scene. The
most anxious faces were those of the owners of dry-good shops, by whom
the recovery of the monarch was indeed an object devoutly desired, as
they had already laid in their varieties of spring fashions, which the
universal mourning that was to follow the demise of the crown, would
convert almost into positive lumber.

At length, on the 26th of June, intelligence was received that the
monarch of Great Britain had been conquered by a still more powerful
king. What mourning without grief! what weeping without a tear! The
papers immediately commenced a chorus of lamentation and eulogy, in
which but one discordant voice was heard. This was the voice of the
"Times"--the only leading journal which had independence and spirit
enough to vindicate its character as a guardian of the public morals, by
disdaining to prostitute its columns to the purposes of falsehood. One
paper affirmed, among other fulsome and mendacious remarks, that the
royal defunct must have taken his departure from this world with a clear
conscience, as he had never injured an individual! After such an
assertion

              "Quis neget arduis
        Pronos relabi posse rivos
        Montibus, Tiberimque riverti?"

Did the shades of an injured wife and an injured father never rise
before the imagination of the dying man? did the injury inflicted by a
life of evil example never appal the recollection of the dying King?
Yes, a life of evil example; we repeat the phrase. Look at his whole
career, from the moment when it first became free from control, to its
close. Does it not afford an almost uninterrupted series of the most
scandalous violations of the rules which a king especially should hold
sacred--the rules of religion, of morals? When young, he countenanced by
his deportment the extravagance and profligacy of all the youth of the
kingdom--when old, contemplate the avowed, the flagrant concubinage he
sanctioned--see one adulteress openly succeeding another in his favour,
and say whether his declining years furnished a more exemplary model for
imitation than those of his boyhood. Worse than all, behold by whom,
amongst others, his very death-bed, we may say, is surrounded--the
mistress who had last sacrificed her virtue and honour, and the husband
and the children of that woman, who were occupying places in the royal
household, as the price of the wife and the mother's shame. It is well
known that it was not until after the accession of the present
sovereign, that Lady Conyngham, and the man from whom she derives the
right of being so entitled, together with their offspring, received an
intimation that their presence was no longer desirable at Windsor
Castle, from which they departed, in consequence, amid the ridicule and
scorn of the empire.

It was an interesting period for an American to be in London, that of
the death of one king, and the accession of another; and, as such events
are not of every-day occurrence, we esteemed ourselves particularly
fortunate in being on the spot at the time. The various ceremonies
consequent upon them,--the lying in state,--the obsequies,--the
proclamation,--the prorogation of Parliament, and so forth, were well
worth witnessing; but, by far the most interesting result they produced,
was the general election which followed the dissolution of the
legislature. We were enabled, through the kindness of a gentleman who
was a candidate, to study the whole process of an election in a free
borough, having accompanied him, at his invitation, to the scene of
political strife, and remained there until the contest was brought to a
close. By occupying a few pages with an account of it, we may, perhaps,
communicate some degree of information and pleasure to a portion of our
readers, without being guilty of too wide a digression.

The two first days subsequently to our arrival in the town, were spent
in visiting those persons whose suffrages were not ascertained at the
time when the candidates made their canvass, two or three weeks before,
that is to say,--called personally upon every one who possessed a vote,
and requested his support. In this, there is no mincing of the matter in
the least,--the suffrage is openly asked, and as openly promised or
refused; but it is only among the more respectable class, that this
ceremonial is sufficient,--the others "thank their God they have a vote
to sell." On the third day, the election commenced. Two temporary
covered buildings had been erected near each other in the principal part
of the town, in one of which were the hustings and the polls, and the
other was employed for the sittings of a species of court, where the
qualifications of suspected voters were tried. About nine in the
morning, the candidates, three in number, proceeded to the former booth,
if we may so term it, and, after the settlement of the necessary
preliminaries, were proposed and seconded as representatives of the
borough, in the order in which they stood on the hustings. These were
partitioned into three divisions,--one belonging to each of the opposing
gentlemen,--which were crowded with their respective friends. Directly
below the hustings, which were considerably elevated, was a table, round
which were seated the poll clerks, and others officially connected with
the election. This was separated by a board running across the building,
from the polls, which were also divided into three parts, or boxes,
corresponding with the divisions of the hustings. All the proposers and
seconders made speeches, as well as the candidates,--and nothing could
surpass the amusing nature of the scene during the discourses of two of
the haranguers, who were particularly obnoxious to a large portion of
the assembled crowd. They were saluted with a vast variety of _gentle_
epithets, and almost every method of annoyance and interruption was put
in practice. After the _speechification_ was concluded, the polling
commenced. It was done by tallies. The committee of each candidate,
marshalled in succession ten of their friends at a time, who appeared in
the box belonging to their party, and, on being asked, one after
another, for whom they voted, gave, vivâ voce, either a plumper for one,
or split their vote amongst two of the candidates. This system was
regularly prosecuted, until the diminished numbers of one of the
parties, rendered it difficult to collect ten men in time, when as many
as could be brought together, were sent in. On the last day of the
election, not more than one vote was polled in an hour in one of the
boxes.

The candidates were obliged to remain in their places on the hustings,
day after day, from the opening until the closing of the polls, and
thank aloud every one who gave them a vote. At the end of every day's
polling, the three gentlemen made speeches, all pretty much of the same
purport, expressing their thanks for the support they had received, and
their perfect confidence of ultimate success. There were not more than
six or seven hundred voters in the town; and yet, for eight days, was
the contest carried on. On the ninth, one of the parties retired from
the field, and the other two were declared duly elected; after which
they were chaired. The reason of this protraction, was owing in part to
the unavoidable slowness of vivâ voce voting, but chiefly to the number
of votes objected to, by persons whose occupation it was to point out
every flaw they could discover in the qualifications of those who
appeared at the polls. One of those persons was in the employ of each
candidate, and, as the struggle was close and somewhat acrimonious,
objections were made on the slightest possible grounds, which were
furnished in abundance, by the variety of circumstances that
disqualified a man for voting in that borough. Whenever an objection was
made, the objector stated the cause of it; and, having written it down
on a piece of paper, handed it to the voter objected to, who repaired
with it to the other booth. Here, having shown it to the assessor, or
judge, who was invested with unlimited power to decide upon every
question of qualification, he was tried in his turn. This was by far the
more interesting and amusing of the two booths. The trial was conducted
in regular form. The accused, so to call him, was placed at the bar of
the court, where he was cross-questioned, and confronted with friendly
and adverse witnesses; and then the lawyers in attendance, who had been
respectively largely feed by the several candidates, pleaded for, or
against his qualifications, according as he was a friend, or not, of
their employer. When the arguments were finished, the assessor either
rejected his vote, or sent him back to the polls with a certificate of
qualification, which he exhibited, and had his suffrage recorded. In
some instances, the trials were speedily despatched; but, generally,
they occupied a considerable space of time, so that when the polls were
finally closed, there were at least a hundred names on the books of the
court, of persons who were yet to be arraigned.

It would require more space than is at our disposal, to enter into any
detail of the odd speeches which were made, and the various scenes,
laughable and serious, that occurred during the course of the election.
For the same reason, we cannot dwell upon the observations which are
naturally excited by the whole matter; but, we may remark, that we
became fully satisfied, that frequent Parliaments, with the present
election system, would be one of the greatest evils which could be
inflicted on England. The seldomer, certainly, that such sluices of
varied corruption are opened, the better. Here was a whole town for
weeks in a state of the worst kind of commotion,--almost all the usual
labours of the lower classes were suspended; unrestricted freedom of
access to taverns and alehouses, at the expense of those who were
courting their sweet voices, was afforded them; and some idea may be
formed of the use that was made of it, from the fact that the bill
brought to one of the candidates, by the keeper of an inn, for a single
night's debauch, amounted to nearly a hundred pounds sterling. At the
bar of the court where the qualifications were examined, abundant
evidence was given, that this indirect species of bribery was not the
only kind which was in operation. The intense eagerness manifested by
the greater part of those to whose votes objections had been made, to
obtain a decision of the assessor in their favour,--the quantity and
grossness of the falsehoods they uttered, in order to effect that
object, rendered palpable the existence of some very potent motive for
desiring the possession of a suffrage. That these evils are to be
attributed mainly to the vivâ voce mode of voting, we have little doubt,
and, assuredly, the tree which produces such fruit, cannot be sound.
But, we feel no desire to involve ourselves in a discussion concerning
the best system of election, which has been debated _usque ad nauseam_,
and we shall therefore return to our proper subject.

There are various pictures afforded by the different portions of the
career of his late Majesty, which it may be of the highest benefit for
republican Americans to contemplate. It was beautifully said by
Sheridan, in one of the most brilliant of his speeches, that Bonaparte
was an instrument in the hands of Providence to make the English love
their constitution better; cling to it with more fondness; hang round it
with more tenderness: and in the same way we may affirm that such kings
as George IV. are eminently calculated to strengthen our attachment to
the republican institutions of this country. The history of their lives
furnishes that gross evidence of the absurdities involved in the
doctrine of hereditary right, which cannot fail to disgust and revolt.
It presents the spectacle of a ruler the least fitted to rule. It proves
that princes, from the very circumstance of being princes, are the least
likely to be able to execute those duties which devolve upon them, with
efficiency or conscientiousness--that the situation in which they are
placed by their birth, nullifies the very reason for which their order
was first established, and renders them a curse instead of a blessing.
What was the source from which royal privileges and authority first
flowed? Was it not the superiority in various ways of the persons who
were invested with them, and which caused them to be considered as
pre-eminently qualified to discharge the functions incumbent on a king?
And is not the name of king at present, a by-word for inferiority in
every respect in which inferiority is degrading? Every deficiency indeed
of talent, knowledge, virtue, is regarded so much as a matter of course
in a personage of royal station, that the slightest proof of the
possession of either, which in an humbler individual would just be
sufficient to screen him from remark, is cried up as something
wonderful. Think of a king being able to quote a Latin line, or make a
speech of ten minutes in length!--the boast of Mr. Croly with regard to
George IV. Such an unusual occurrence is deemed almost incredible, and
many persons, even among his own subjects, will firmly believe that
neither feat was performed in consequence of original information and
faculties, but resulted from the suggestions of another.

But by far the most important light in which we republicans can
contemplate the career of George IV. in connexion with the object of
increasing our love for the institutions under which we live, is that of
morality and religion. The point may be conceded, which is always
advanced as the main argument in support of hereditary monarchical
government--that it is better adapted to preserve the peace of a country
by keeping the succession free from difficulty and doubt, though a
reference to history may perhaps warrant the denial even of this
position, by exhibiting the various usurpations, murders, unnatural
rebellions of children against parents, and other heart-sickening
crimes, the consequences of the right invested in one family of
exercising sovereign rule, which have so often plunged whole nations
into misery and blood;--but this point may be acknowledged; we may admit
that elections of chief magistrates are more likely to be the source of
frequent troubles. If it can nevertheless be shown, that there is that
in the very essence of monarchical institutions which is in any way
hostile to virtue, the question ought to be considered as settled in
favour of the system that is free from this insuperable objection; for
it cannot be denied, that any principle at all tending to aid the
propagation of immorality, is the worst which can be admitted into the
social and political compacts by which men are united together, and
should most be deprecated and eschewed. No matter what apparent or real
beneficial results may flow from it, they cannot counterbalance the
detriment it may inflict upon the surest guarantee of permanent good to
man, both in his individual and aggregate capacity--both with regard to
his temporal and eternal interests. National happiness and prosperity of
a durable character, are inseparable from national virtue. The evils
produced by dissensions concerning the chief power in a state, are in a
degree contingent and temporary; those engendered by immorality are
certain and lasting. Let then the pages, not merely of the book which
tells the story of George IVth of England, but of all history be
consulted, and who will deny that they furnish overwhelming evidence
that the moral atmosphere of courts has been at all times tainted and
baleful; that they have been ever the centres of corruption and vice,
and that they must ever be so? They must ever be so, we assert, because
the natural and unavoidable result of raising any collection of persons
above the opinion, as it were, of the rest of the world, and of
surrounding them with a species of _prestige_ which prevents their vices
and follies from being viewed in their real hideousness, is to ensure
amongst them the sway of immorality. They thus form a sanctuary for
corruption, which can never be established in a country where no
factitious distinctions exist; there profligacy can have no refuge when
hard pressed by public opinion, no ramparts behind which to protect
itself from the assaults of that potent enemy; and it will never in
consequence be able to obtain there any other than individual dominion.

If we turn our eyes upon the condition of the English court as it now
exists, although it may be less exceptionable than when George was at
its head, we shall find sufficient justification of the foregoing
remarks. The present sovereign, it is well known, is unfortunate in
possessing a mind of that nervous description, which renders any
considerable excitement a thing to be avoided; it was the effect
produced upon it by his appointment to the Lord High Admiraltyship
during his brother's life, which occasioned his removal from that post.
His moral character is certainly less disreputable than that of his
predecessor; but who can witness, without feelings akin to disgust, the
spectacle of a family of illegitimate offspring exalted in the palace,
and following him in all his perambulations? It is far from our wish to
cast any reflection upon those unfortunate persons, who are in no way
accountable for the ignominy and guilt connected with their birth. The
shame and the reproach are for the author of the stain, who exposes
himself to double reprehension, by the countenance he virtually lends to
the cause of immorality. William IV., however, is a paragon in
comparison to his next brother, the Duke of Cumberland, a person, who,
if he has given any warrant for the tenth part of the imputations which
rest upon him, can only have escaped the penalties inflicted by the law
on the greatest offences, because he is the brother of the king. We
cannot convey a better idea of the estimation in which he is held in
London, than by stating, that in all the caricatures where an attempt is
made to embody the evil spirit, his person is used for that purpose.

   "What poor things are kings!
    What poorer things are nations to obey
    Him, whom a petty passion does command!"

These considerations, we repeat, are well adapted to promote the
important object to which we have alluded, of causing our institutions
to be properly appreciated and loved by ourselves. This is the great
desideratum with respect to them--the chief thing necessary for their
preservation. Our situation now is more enviable than that of any
country of the earth; and all which is requisite is, that we should be
aware of our own happiness, and rightly understand the source from which
it springs--the republican form of government. Let us be thoroughly
impressed with the conviction of the superior efficacy of this system
over every other, in promoting the end for which political societies
were instituted, and we are safe. We will then be furnished with the
best defence against the principal enemy from which danger need be
dreaded,--we mean that propensity to change, which is one of the common
infirmities of the human breast,--that restlessness which renders the
life of man a scene of constant struggle, tends to prevent him from
estimating and enjoying the blessings he possesses, and often causes him
to dash away with his own rash hand, the cup of happiness from his lips.
"Our complexion," says Burke, "is such, that we are palled with
enjoyment, and stimulated with hope,--that we become less sensible to a
long-possessed benefit, from the very circumstance that it is become
habitual. Specious, untried, ambiguous prospects of new advantage,
recommend themselves to the spirit of adventure, which more or less
prevails in every mind. From this temper, men and factions, and nations
too, have sacrificed the good of which they had been in assured
possession, in favour of wild and irrational expectations." To be
satisfied, is, indeed, we fear, difficult for human nature, even where
there is no good to be reached beyond what we already have obtained. A
great object, in such case, is to be convinced that there is no such
good to be acquired--to suppose that we have arrived at the utmost
boundaries of mortal felicity.

Nothing, however, that we have advanced as fitted to aid that object,
inasmuch as it respects our political condition, is of such influence
for its accomplishment, as the contemplation of the actual state of the
European world. When the tempest howls without, the domestic hearth is
invested with a doubly inviting aspect; we gather round it with
eagerness, in proportion to the dismal appearance of external nature,
and bless it for the security which it affords from the rage of the
heavens. Should we not, in like manner, embrace with redoubled fondness,
the institutions which maintain us in prosperity and peace, now,
especially, whilst we are enabled to behold the fearful operation of the
consequences of monarchical rule--the horrors in which they are
involving the fairest and most civilized portions of the globe; and when
we know, too, that the motive which inspired the inhabitants of those
countries with courage to encounter the storm, by which they are tossed
about on the sea of revolution, was the hope of being driven by it into
some haven like that which shelters us from the fury of winds and waves?
When, if ever, they will attain to the possession of the blessings which
we enjoy,--how all the troubles by which they are agitated will end, is
what no human ken is competent to discern; but the philanthropist and
the Christian need never despair. Out of chaos came this beautiful
world; and the same Being who called it into existence, still watches
over its concerns,--is still as potent to convert obscurity into
brightness, as when He first said, "Let there be light," and there was
light!




    ART. III.--_Essay on the Hieroglyphic System of M.
    Champollion, Jr. and the advantages which it offers to
    sacred criticism._ By J. G. H. GREPPO, _Vicar-General of
    Belley. Translated from the French by_ ISAAC STUART, _with
    notes and illustrations._ Boston: pp. 276.


In former numbers of this journal, there are several articles devoted to
the subject of Egyptian hieroglyphics, particularly as connected with
the labours of Mons. Champollion. Every day seems to give opportunity of
additional observation, by furnishing new and interesting facts. How
much further the investigations may be carried, it would be unsafe even
to conjecture; but, in the present state of things, we are fully
authorized to consider the problem of hieroglyphics as at last solved,
and such general principles established, as must render subsequent
investigations comparatively easy. Every age seems to be productive of
some great genius peculiarly adapted to the accomplishment of some great
design, connected either with the advancement of learning, or the
melioration of the moral condition of mankind. The present appears
fruitful of great men, and France, particularly favoured, whether we
regard the great political events which have called out the most
gigantic exhibitions of practical wisdom, or look at the onward march of
science, which seems in no wise impeded, by convulsions which scatter
every thing but science, like the yellow leaves of autumn. Let us not,
however, be diverted from our object,--the sober investigation of a
sober subject, alike deeply interesting to the philologer, the student
of history, and the inquirer into the sacred truths connected with
divine revelation.

The work which stands at the head of this article, purports to be an
investigation of the hieroglyphic system developed in the published
works of Mons. Champollion, Jr. and the advantage which it offers to
sacred criticism. It is the performance of a clergyman of the Roman
Catholic Church, J. G. H. Greppo, Vicar-General of Belley. The original
work, however, is not before us. We examine it through the medium of a
translation made by Mr. Isaac Stuart, son of the Rev. Moses Stuart, one
of the most eminent scholars of our country, who vouches for the
accuracy of the translation, having inspected the whole, and compared it
with the original. Dr. Stuart has added some notes, where he has seen
occasion to differ from Mr. Greppo, on some points of Hebrew philology
and criticism. The reasons for his difference of opinion are given with
that candour for which the writer is distinguished, and the intelligent
reader is left to judge as to the merits of the question.

It is well known to the learned, that Mons. Champollion, the younger,
has been spending several years in the uninterrupted study of the
Egyptian hieroglyphics. In his capacity of Professor of History at
Grenoble, he found his labours embarrassed by the immense hiatus which
occurs in Egyptian history, and, to the filling up of this, he set
himself to work with all the zeal and energy which genius could inspire.
In this work, he had the advantage of youth, and a very superior
education in the Coptic and other oriental languages, connected with a
patience of investigation, which appears almost miraculous. He had the
advantage of knowing, moreover, that, if ever any just conclusion was to
be gained, he must seek it by getting some starting point, different
from that whence all his predecessors had set out. There had been a
variety of learned men whose investigations were directed to this point,
such as Father Kircher the Jesuit, whose different works on Egyptian
antiquities had been successively published in Rome, from 1636 to
1652--Warburton, the highly gifted author of the Divine Legation of
Moses, the learned Count de Gebelin, and others of equal and less name.
But these had all confessedly failed, and the learned almost gave up the
subject in despair, so much so, that Champollion himself, states it as
the only opinion which appeared to be well established among them, viz.
"that it was impossible ever to acquire that knowledge which had
hitherto been sought with great labour, and in vain."

In the midst of these discouragements, a circumstance occurred, familiar
probably to our readers, but to which we allude merely to observe, that
it seemed at once to open a new era of investigation, and is among the
many evidences of the fact, that events of apparently the most
inconsiderable description, are connected with results whose magnitude
cannot be estimated. At the close of the last century, while the French
troops were engaged in the prosecution of the war in Egypt, it is well
known, that a number of learned men were associated with the expedition,
for the prosecution of purposes far more honourable than those of human
conquest,--we mean the exploration of a hitherto sealed country, with
the express design of advancing the arts and sciences. One division of
the army occupied the village of _Raschid_, otherwise called _Rosetta_;
and, while they were employed in digging the foundation for a fort, they
found a block of black basalt, in a mutilated condition, bearing a
portion of three inscriptions, one of which was in the Egyptian
hieroglyphics. The fate of the military expedition, lost to the French
the possession of this stone, as it fell into the hands of the British,
by the capitulation of Alexandria; it was afterward conveyed to London,
and placed in the British museum. Previously to the termination of the
war, however, the stone and its characters had been correctly delineated
by the artists connected with the commission, and then, through the
medium of an engraving, placed in possession of the learned. This is a
brief history of the Rosetta stone, as it is called, but still it
baffled the investigations of the learned. They had gone upon the
supposition, that the hieroglyphic method of writing must, of necessity,
be _ideographic_, i. e. figurative or symbolical, and that each of these
signs was the expression of an idea. Here appears to have been the great
root of all their mistakes on the subject, mistakes naturally fallen
into by the moderns, inasmuch as the few incidental passages left on the
subject in the writings of the ancients, all recognized this as a fact.
Except Clement of Alexandria, one of the fathers of the church, not a
solitary writer had left on record any other opinion; and the passage of
Clement has itself never been understood, until since the discoveries of
Champollion. It seems to be one of those curious facts connected with
the history of the human mind, that it requires a great intellect to
seize on the simplest element of truth. It is easy to speculate on data,
which are assumed without a rigorous examination, and then to make an
exhibition of learning which may astonish the world; but, it is the
province of the greatest genius to lay hold of simple truth, and
establish a foundation utterly immoveable, before there is any attempt
at a superstructure. This was the business, and this the achievement of
Champollion. Now that the discovery is made, we are amazed at the want
of previous penetration. It struck the mind of Champollion, that, if the
Egyptian hieroglyphics were _ideographic_, there must be _exceptions_,
for two substantial reasons: first, because _proper names_, or names of
persons, do not always admit of being expressed by any sign, that is,
proper names have not in all cases a meaning; and, second, because
_foreign names_, or those which have no relation to any particular
spoken language, could not be represented by conventional signs. These
principles appear now to be self-evident, and this is the basis of
Champollion's discovery. On this he built the idea, that there must
exist among the Egyptians _alphabetic characters_, which should express
the _sounds_ of the spoken language; and, in order to test this
principle, he set about the investigation of the celebrated Rosetta
stone. This stone, let it be remembered, had on it _three inscriptions
in different characters_. One of these inscriptions was written in
Greek, and of course easily decyphered; of the other two, one was
written in hieroglyphics, and the other in the common character of the
country. The course pursued by Champollion, was exceedingly simple, and,
on that account, may be considered masterly. In the Greek text, the name
of Ptolemy occurred, together with some names which were foreign to the
Egyptian language. In the hieroglyphic inscription, there were certain
signs grouped together and frequently repeated; and, what rendered them
remarkable was, that they were enclosed in a kind of oval or ring,
called a cartouche, and maintained a relative position which seemed to
correspond with the Greek word Ptolemy. Champollion conjectured, that
there must be some connection between the signs clustered in these
rings, and the name of Ptolemy expressed by signs, which would _sound_
like that word; and this led him to expect, that he would get at what he
was persuaded was the truth, viz. that the hieroglyphic writing was
_alphabetic,_ rather than exclusively _ideographic_. With the view of
testing this, he went into a close analysis of the group of signs which
he supposed designated the name of Ptolemy; and, as the result of this
analysis, obtained what he considered the equivalents to the letters in
the name of this prince.

In order to give our readers an idea of his process of investigation, we
will state the signs which he found in the group surrounded by a ring on
the Rosetta stone. These are the following: a square--half circle--a
flower with the stem bent--a lion in repose--the three sides of a
parallelogram--two feathers, and a crooked line. The square, Champollion
considered the equivalent of the Greek letter Pi--the half circle,
Tau--the flower with the stem bent, Omicron--the lion in repose,
Lamda--the three sides of the parallelogram, Mu--the feathers, Eta,--and
the crooked line, Sigma. This gave the name Ptolmês. At this stage of
his investigations, Champollion supposed that he had obtained seven
signs of an alphabet; but, could he have gone no further, he would have
established nothing, and his researches would have passed off with the
labours of the learned who had preceded him. To test his principle
further, it was necessary, therefore, that he should be able to get at
some other monument, on which there should be recognized some name also
known by some Greek or other connected inscription. Such a monument was
found in an obelisk discovered in the island of Philæ, and transported
to London. On this was discovered a group of characters also enclosed in
a ring, and containing more signs than the former, some of them similar.
On a part of the base which originally supported the obelisk, there was
an inscription in Greek, addressed to _Ptolemy_ and _Cleopatra_. Now, if
the basis of Champollion was correct, there ought to be found in the
name Cleopatra, such signs as were common to both, and they must perform
the same functions which had been previously assigned them; and this was
precisely the result. We have this strikingly set forth in a note of the
translator, which is here presented.

    "To prove that the conjectures of Champollion were true, the
    first sign in the name of Cleopatra should not be found in
    the name of Ptolemy, because the letter _K_ does not occur in
    PTOLMÊS. This was found to be the fact. The letter _K_
    represented by _a quadrant_.

    "The second sign (_a lion in repose_ which represents the
    _Lamda_), is exactly similar to the fourth sign in the name of
    Ptolemy, which, as we have already seen, represents a _Lamda_.

    "The third sign in the name of Cleopatra is _a feather_;
    which should represent the _single_ vowel _Epsilon_, because
    the _two feathers_ in the name of Ptolemy represent _double
    Epsilon_, which is equivalent to the Greek _Eta_. Such is its
    import. As Greppo remarks in a note, and as has been fully
    proved by subsequent investigations of Champollion, the sign
    which resembles two feathers, corresponds also with the
    vowels _Eta_, _Iota_, and with the diphthongs _Alpha Iota_,
    _Epsilon Iota_.

    "The fourth character in the hieroglyphic cartouche of
    Cleopatra, representing _a flower with a stalk bent back_ (or
    a knop), corresponds to the _Omicron_ in the Greek name of
    this queen. This sign is the very same with the third
    character in the hieroglyphic name of Ptolemy, which there
    represents _Omicron_.

    "The fifth sign is in the form of _a square_. It here
    represents the _Pi_, and is the same with the first sign in
    the hieroglyphic name of Ptolemy.

    "The sixth sign, corresponding to the Greek vowel _Alpha_ in
    Cleopatra, is _a hawk_; which of course ought not to be
    found in the name of Ptolemy (as it has no letter _Alpha_), and
    it is not.

    "The seventh character is an _open hand_, representing the
    _Tau_; but this hand is not found in the hieroglyphic name of
    Ptolemy, where _Tau_, the second letter in that name, is
    represented by a half circle. The reader will see in Note G,
    why these two signs stand for the same letter and sound.

    "The eighth character in the name of Cleopatra, which is _a
    mouth_, and which here represents the Greek _Rho_, should not
    be found in the name of Ptolemy, and it is not.

    "The ninth and last sign in the name of the queen, which
    represents the vowel _Alpha_, is _the hawk_, the very same
    sign which represents this vowel in the third syllable of
    the same name.

    "The name of Cleopatra is terminated by two hieroglyphic
    symbolical signs, _the egg and the half circle_, which,
    according to Champollion, are always used to _denote the
    feminine gender_."

These were great advances, and our readers will now easily understand
the process by which the distinguished discoverer arrived at his
results. Step by step, he has thus been able to form his _phonetic
alphabet_. In September, 1822, he gave an account of his discovery, and
of the principles of his system, in a letter to Mons. Dacier, perpetual
Secretary of the Academy of Inscriptions, and of Belles Lettres. In
1824, Champollion published the first edition of his work, "Précis du
système hièroglyphique des anciens Egyptiens, ou recherches sur les
elémens premiers de cette ecriture sacrée, &c." This is the work which
is reviewed in the number of this journal for June, 1827, p. 438. In the
year 1828, a second edition of this work was called for, and this second
edition is rendered more valuable, by having appended to it the letter
to Mons. Dacier.

It is not the purpose of the present article, to go into an account of
the results of Champollion's labours;--this has been amply done in
preceding pages of this journal. The essay of Mons. Greppo, gave us a
favourable opportunity, following the course of the author, of stating
in brief, the process by which Champollion arrived at his most valuable
and interesting conclusions. The object of the essay is to show the
advantages which this discovery gives to the study of sacred criticism.
This is the special aim of the work; and, in relation to this, the
author has observed:--

    "Some of the numerous facts, which the study of Egyptian
    developed, will be applied to the Holy Scriptures in some of
    those portions which relate to Egypt, and they will shed
    much light upon these passages of the sacred annals. We
    shall endeavour to accomplish this work with all the
    precision and simplicity possible in researches which are
    necessarily scientific, but which are of high interest on
    account of their tendency; and it is on this account only,
    that we present them with such confidence.

    "A religion whose origin is from above, is without doubt
    safe from the vain attacks of a few blinded men; and, while
    it has been defended for so many centuries by the most
    powerful minds that have shed a lustre upon the sciences and
    upon literature, it scarcely needs our weak defence. Yet it
    is consoling to a Christian, to witness the amazing progress
    of human knowledge. The mind is ever attaining to new
    truths, and is confirming the remark so often quoted from a
    celebrated English Chancellor, (Bacon) a remark which
    applies as well to revealed as to natural religion, of which
    Christianity is but the development; _Leves gustus in
    philosophia movere fortasse ad atheismum, sed pleniores
    haustus ad religionem reducere_: i. e. _superficial
    knowledge in philosophy may perhaps lead to atheism, but a
    fundamental knowledge will lead to religion_."

The Essay of Mons. Greppo is composed of two parts, the first of which
is an explanation of the hieroglyphic system of Champollion; and the
second, the application of the hieroglyphic system to the elucidation of
the sacred writings. The relations of the Hebrews with the Egyptians
were such, that the history of the latter cannot be otherwise than most
intimately connected with the religion of the Bible. In fact, there was
no country in the world, foreign to Judea, whose name is so conspicuous
in the Bible, as that of Egypt; beginning at the time of Abraham, and
going down to the very Apostolic age; and it hence follows, that he who
would study in detail, the historic annals of the Hebrews, ought to be
as fully acquainted with those of ancient Egypt, as the largest means
will allow. In carrying out his intention, M. Greppo has gone deeply
into philological, historical, chronological, and geographical
considerations. By making the "précis" of Champollion the basis of his
argument, and bringing in to his assistance the labours of the elder
Champollion, called by way of distinction Champollion Figeac, from the
place of his residence; he has investigated the history of the Pharaohs,
as connected with the accounts given in the books of Genesis and Exodus,
and the later historical writings.

In the fourth chapter of the second part, there is an interesting
discussion relative to the difficulty of reconciling the position taken
in Exodus, as to the perishing of Pharaoh, with the conclusions drawn
from the investigations of Champollion. The last Pharaoh of the Exodus,
is ascertained to be the King _Amenophis Ramses_. According to Manetho,
he reigned twenty years; viz. from 1493 B. C., to 1473 B. C., so
calculated also by Champollion Figeac. But the departure of the children
of Israel took place about the year 1491 B. C., consequently in the
second or third year of this Prince. If this Prince perished in the Red
Sea, how can this be reconciled with the fact, that Manetho states him
to have reigned twenty years, and this is confirmed by the calculations
of the elder Champollion. M. Greppo goes into an interesting discussion,
to prove that the text of the Book of Exodus does not state that Pharaoh
perished in the Red Sea. His examination of the sacred text will be
interesting to many of our readers:

    "Scripture does not compel us to believe that the Pharaoh
    with whom we now are concerned, participated in the fatal
    calamity of his army. And first, Moses says not a word to
    this effect, when he relates the miracle performed by the
    Lord in favour of his people. He informs us, it is true,
    that Pharaoh marched in pursuit of the children of Israel;
    _And he made ready his chariot and took his people with him.
    And he took six hundred chosen chariots, and all the
    chariots of Egypt, and captains over every one of them. And
    the Lord hardened the heart of Pharaoh king of Egypt, and he
    pursued after the children of Israel_ (Exod. xiv. 6-8.). A
    little further on he says; _And the Egyptians pursued, and
    went in after them, into the midst of the sea, even all
    Pharaoh's horses, his chariots and his horsemen_ (v. 23.).
    Finally he adds; _And the waters returned, and covered the
    chariots, and the horsemen, and all the host of Pharaoh that
    came into the sea after them; there remained not so much as
    one of them_ (v. 28). Such are the principal features of the
    narrative which Moses gives of this Egyptian expedition, and
    of the terrible event in which it resulted. But in the
    circumstantial account of this disaster, he does not name
    Pharaoh personally except when he speaks of his departure.
    Now if the persecutor of Israel entered the Red Sea with his
    army, and was swallowed up with it, is it probable that the
    chief and legislator of the Hebrews would have been silent
    about such a circumstance as the tragical death of this
    prince? an event more important, perhaps, than even the
    destruction of his army, and surely very proper as a
    striking illustration both of the protection which God
    extended to his people, and of the chastisements his justice
    inflicted upon the impious. And further; to strengthen the
    faith of this people when in a state of distrust and
    murmuring, Moses often recounts to them their deliverance
    from Egyptian bondage, their passage through the Red Sea,
    and the other miracles which God had wrought for them; and
    on all these occasions, when the allusion to the death of an
    oppressive prince would have been so natural, he conveys no
    such idea.

    "The circumstance related by Moses, that no one escaped,
    _there remained not so much as one of them_, proves nothing
    relative to the supposed disaster of Pharaoh. It refers to
    those who followed the Hebrews into the sea, among whom
    Moses does not enumerate this prince. We remark also, that
    the sacred historian seems designedly to leave room for
    making exceptions to the general disaster, by the precise
    manner in which he announces, _that the waters covered the
    chariots and the horsemen, and all the host of Pharaoh that
    came into the sea after them_; this literally signifies that
    the waters covered only the chariots and horsemen which
    entered into the sea, and leaves us to infer that all did
    not enter. The incidental expression in verse 28, _that came
    into the sea after them_, seems then to modify the more
    general expression in verse 23, _even all_, and authorizes
    us to understand it with some latitude, rather than to
    restrain it to its rigorous sense. All these circumstances
    of the narrative accord with the presumption, not only that
    Pharaoh did not enter into the Red Sea, but perhaps even
    that some of his infantry, if he possessed any, did not
    enter; and at least, that this is true of some principal
    chiefs who surrounded him, and who formed what we now call a
    body of _staff-officers_.

    "In relating the miraculous passage of the Red Sea, the book
    of _Wisdom_, which describes so often and in such an
    admirable manner, the wonders of the Lord in conducting his
    people, and which celebrates the illustrious men whom he
    made his instruments, makes no mention either of Pharaoh or
    of his tragical death. It is limited to the remark, that in
    his wisdom he precipitated the enemies of Israel into the
    sea (_Wisdom of Solomon_, x. 19)."

Mons. Greppo appears to be aware, that there are difficulties attending
his interpretation, arising out of the apparent positive declarations
contained in other parts of the sacred volume: for instance, in Ex. ch.
xv. 19th v., as also Ps. cxxxvi. 15th v. His answer to these objections,
and some collateral arguments by which he endeavours to support his
theory, are too long to be here introduced. Professor Stuart, in a
learned note, part of which we feel compelled to quote, dissents from
the reasoning of Mons. Greppo, and takes the safer course of leaving to
further discoveries, what, in the present state of the researches, may
not yet be considered as definitely settled.

    "The modesty and ingenuity which M. Greppo has exhibited, in
    the discussion which gives occasion to the present note,
    certainly entitle him to much credit and approbation. Still
    it seems to me very doubtful, whether the exegesis in
    question can be supported. When God says, in Exod. xiv. 17,
    'I will get me honour upon Pharaoh, and upon all his host,
    upon his chariots, and upon his horsemen;" and when he
    repeats the same sentiment in Exod. xiv. 18; the natural
    inference seems to be, that the fate of Pharaoh would be the
    same as that of his host, his chariots and his horsemen.
    Accordingly, in Exod. xiv. 23, it is said, 'The Egyptians
    pursued, and went in after them [the Hebrews] into the midst
    of the sea, _every horse of Pharaoh and his chariot_, and
    his horsemen, into the midst of the sea.' It is true,
    indeed, that kol-sus par`ó v^eh.é-ló may mean, _all the
    horses of Pharaoh and all his chariots_, viz. all those
    which belonged to his army. But is it not the natural
    implication here, that Pharaoh was at the head of his army,
    and led them on? And when in Exod. xiv. 28 it is said, that
    of all the host of Pharaoh that came into the sea after the
    Israelites, _there remained not so much as one of them_, is
    not the natural implication here, that Pharaoh at the head
    of his army went into the sea, and perished along with them?

    "In the triumphal song of Moses and the Hebrews, recorded in
    Exod. xv., the implication in verses 4, 19, seems most
    naturally to be, that Pharaoh was joined with his army in
    the destruction to which they were subjected.

    "But still more does this appear, in Ps. cvi. 11, where it
    is said, 'The waters covered their enemies [the Egyptians];
    _there was not one of them left_.' How could this well be
    said, if Pharaoh himself, the most powerful, unrelenting,
    and bitter enemy which they had, was still preserved alive,
    and permitted afterwards to make new conquests over his
    southern neighbours? This passage M. Greppo has entirely
    overlooked.

    "In regard to Ps. cxxxvi. 15, the exegesis of our author is
    ingenious; but it will not bear the test of criticism. For
    example; in Exod. xiv. 27, it is said, 'And the Lord
    _overthrew_ the Egyptians, in the midst of the sea; where
    the Hebrew word answering to _overthrew_ is dgbz-r from
    váyna`ér from ní`ér. But in Ps. cxxxvi. 15, the very same
    word is applied to Pharaoh and his host; '_And he overthrew_
    (váyna`ér) _Pharaoh and his host_. In both cases (which are
    exactly the same), the word ní`ér properly means, _he drave
    into_ (_hineintreiben, Gesenius_.) Now if the Lord _drave_
    the Egyptians _into_ the midst of the sea, and also _drave_
    Pharaoh and his host _into_ the midst of the sea, we cannot
    well see how Pharaoh escaped drowning. Accordingly, we find
    that such an occurrence is plainly recognized by Nehemiah
    ix. 10, 11, when, after mentioning Pharaoh, his servants,
    and his people, this distinguished man speaks of the
    'persecutors of the Hebrews as thrown into the deep, as a
    stone in the mighty waters.'

    "As to any difficulties respecting _chronology_ in this
    case, about which M. Greppo seems to be principally
    solicitous, it may be remarked, that the subject of ancient
    Egyptian chronology is yet very far from being so much
    cleared up, as to throw any real embarrassments in the way
    of Scripture facts. More light will give more
    satisfaction--as in the famous case of the zodiacs, so
    finely described in the last chapter of M. Greppo's book."

The fifth and sixth chapters of the work of Mons. Greppo, are devoted to
the examination of the history of the Pharaohs mentioned in the sacred
writings, down to the time of Solomon, and of the other kings of Egypt,
who are distinguished by proper names.

The seventh chapter is devoted to the chronology of Manetho, the
official historiographer of Egypt; and several questions are discussed,
which relate to the difference between him, and the scripture
chronologers. In the close of the chapter, the author draws two
conclusions, which we are disposed to think entirely justified by the
present state of the investigations--these conclusions will be better
stated in the author's own words:--

    "From the remarks which we have communicated to our readers,
    we infer that there is no foundation for that fear about the
    advance of Egyptian studies, which the religious zeal of
    some estimable men has led them to cherish; neither is there
    any occasion to distrust the _data_ transmitted by the
    historian of the Pharaohs. Nothing can authorize such a
    distrust. On the other hand, every thing conspires to prove,
    at the present time, that the new discoveries and their
    application to chronology, will disclose more and more the
    truth and exactness of the historic facts in Scripture. We
    believe that men are too apt to form a judgment of systems
    when they hardly understand them; and perhaps they are too
    prone to forget that if true faith is timorous, it is not
    distrustful, like the pride which is connected with the vain
    theories of men; because it views the basis, upon which the
    august edifice of divine revelation reposes, as immoveable.
    Inspired with this thought, we have adopted, from entire
    conviction, all the satisfactory results elicited by the
    labours of the Champollions; and we wait, with impatience
    and with confidence, the new developments which they
    promise, persuaded beforehand that revealed religion cannot
    but gain from them."

In the eighth chapter of his essay, Mons. Greppo applies the discoveries
of Champollion to the Egyptian geography, so far as the scriptures are
concerned. If it be true, as he conceives, that the city of Rameses
occupied the site of the Arabian city, now called Ramsis, there seems to
be an irreconcilable difference with some of the scripture relations;
for this city, _Ramsis_, is on the western side of the river Nile, and
not less than one hundred and fifty miles from that position on the Red
Sea, where it is believed that the passage of the Israelites was made.
However the question may eventually be settled, it appears to us, that
this location can in no sense consist with the text of the sacred
writings; for, in the first place, it would have required that the
Israelites should have crossed the Nile, on their journey towards
Palestine. Of this there is no account; neither had they any means; and
it would have required a miraculous interposition to enable them so to
do. But, second, the sacred text informs us, that, at the close of the
second day after the departure of the Israelites from Rameses, they
reached the borders of the Red Sea. It is utterly impossible that they
could have crossed the Nile, and travelled one hundred and fifty miles
in two days. It is beyond all rational calculation to suppose that they
could have travelled at the rate of more than twenty miles per day, and,
consequently, we must look for the situation of Rameses at a distance
not greater certainly than forty miles from the Red Sea, and on the
eastern side of the Nile. If the integrity of the sacred writings is to
be preserved, the idea that the Rameses of the Bible, and the Ramsis of
the Arabians are identical, must be abandoned, or, at any rate, not
adopted until something far more conclusive shall be found, than has yet
been given. Professor Stuart, in a note which we have above condensed,
refers to a previous work of his, where this subject is more largely
discussed, and which, as it may not be familiar to the mass of our
readers, being a work distinctly connected with theological studies,
will be referred to for a moment. In this work, the Professor enters
largely into the examination of the location of Rameses, which stands
also for Goshen. He considers, and with vast power of argument and
illustration, that the royal residence of the Pharaohs at the time of
Joseph and Moses, was at Zoan, and not Memphis, as has been generally
supposed. There can be no question, that Zoan was one of the oldest
cities of Lower Egypt, and situated on the eastern shore of the second
or Tanitic mouth of the Nile, and this was but a little distance from
the Pelusiac or eastern branch, on which the residence of the Israelites
has generally been supposed to have been. It was an extensive city, and
its ruins in the time of the French expedition, occupied an extensive
country. Champollion has remarked that the word signifies, "mollis,
delicatus, jucundus," which would make Zoan to mean Pleasant town. The
reader will be interested to observe, that, in Ps. lxxviii, the writer
alludes to Zoan, as the scenes of the miracles of Moses: also Ps. v.
verse 12, and also lxxii. verse 43. In the time of Isaiah, it is quite
clear, that Zoan was the place where the Egyptian court resided, at
least for a time. See ch. xix. verse 11. There are objections to this
view of Professor Stuart, but not stronger, than to others; and the most
probable is, that the kings of Egypt had different places of royal
residence, as is still customary. We know that Cyrus, after conquering
Babylon, spent part of his time there, and part at the capital of his
native country.

Contrary, therefore, to the opinion of Mons. Greppo, Professor Stuart
considers Rameses or Goshen, to be decidedly on the eastern side of the
Nile, and this is rendered more certain, if, as the Professor has
attempted to prove, _Zoan_ was frequently a royal residence of the
Pharaohs. The opinion taken by Mons. Greppo, that Rameses was on the
western side of the Nile, in what may be called Lower Eastern Egypt,
without the delta, is refuted in Michaelis _Supp. ad Lex._ Hebraica, p.
397. We make no pretentions to the ability of settling these disputed
points, and consider it perfectly safe to abide by the present general
idea, as to the location of Rameses, especially as there is nothing yet
in the shape of positive testimony against it. The reader who is
particularly interested in Biblical Archæology, will be highly gratified
by consulting the work of Dr. Stuart, entitled--"Course of Hebrew
Study." In the ninth chapter of his Essay, the author has made use of
the discoveries of Champollion, to defeat certain objections to the
genuineness and authenticity of the Books of Moses, which were started
by Voltaire and others of his time. The high antiquity of the Pentateuch
was doubted, on the ground that writing in the common language could not
then have been known. Champollion has decyphered a manuscript, which
contains an act of the fifth year of the reign of Thouthmosis III. This
prince governed Egypt at a time when Joseph was carried there as a
slave, and this was at least two hundred years previous to the time in
which Moses wrote the Pentateuch.

An objection to the truth of the history of the Pentateuch, also, arose
out of the circumstance, that the magnificence and excellence of the
work said there to have been put upon the ark and its furniture in the
wilderness, was utterly beyond the state of the arts at the time
challenged in the relation. The discoveries of Champollion have
overthrown a supposition which had been held almost indisputable,
viz:--that the arts of Egypt had been indebted for their progress, to
the influence of those from Greece under the domination of the Lagidæ
kings. He has established the contrary, beyond doubt, and has proved
that the most brilliant epoch of the arts in Egypt, was under a dynasty
contemporary with the sojourn of the Israelites in Egypt.

The only remaining objection which is noticed by the author, is one
which he considers as capable of receiving the same satisfactory
solution.

It is objected that the name of _Sesostris_ is not mentioned in
Scripture, nor any feature of his history recognised. To this, the
investigations made by Champollion and the calculations of Champollion
Figeac are made to answer. The commencement of the reign of Sesostris is
fixed by these, in the year 1473, B. C.; consequently, this was
seventeen or eighteen years after the departure of the Israelites from
Egypt. While they were wandering in the wilderness, Sesostris overran
Palestine, which was then in possession of its primitive inhabitants,
and before the Israelites reached that land, the expedition of Sesostris
had long passed, for Diodorus tells us, that it terminated in the ninth
year of his reign. The silence of Scripture, therefore, as to Sesostris,
is in no wise remarkable, as the people of Israel had no connexion with
him, either as friend or foe.

The tenth chapter of the Essay, relates to the Egyptian Zodiacs. To our
readers who have examined the subject at all, the history of these is
now familiar,--the curious may turn to the Number of this Journal for
December, 1827, p. 520, where will be found an ample description.

We have thus given a detailed description of the Essay of Mons. Greppo,
and we cannot resist the pleasure before we close, of presenting the few
remarks with which he concludes his discussion.

    "We come now to the conclusion of our undertaking. With the
    aid of the new discoveries in Egypt, we think that we have
    shed some light upon various passages of the sacred annals,
    and that we have resolved, in a more satisfactory manner,
    certain difficulties which were opposed to their veracity.
    We have attentively examined the resources which the
    writings and monuments of Egypt afford, in the
    interpretation and defence of a religion, whose lot has
    been, in all ages, to meet with enemies, when it should have
    found only admirers and disciples. But the researches to
    which we have been attending very naturally, as we think,
    give rise to a thought consoling to the Christian.

    "Providence, whose operations are so sensibly exhibited in
    the whole physical constitution of the world, has not
    abandoned to chance the government of the moral or
    intellectual world. By means often imperceptible even to the
    eye of the man of observation, and which seem reserved for
    his own secret counsel, God directs second causes, gives
    them efficiency according to his will, and makes them serve,
    sometimes even contrary to their natural tendency, to
    accomplish his own immutable decrees, and to propagate and
    support that religion which he has revealed to us. It is in
    this way that, consistently with his own will, he delays or
    accelerates the march of human intellect; that he gives it a
    direction such as he pleases; that he causes discoveries to
    spring up in their time, as fruits ripen in their season;
    and that the revolutions which renew the sciences, like
    those which change the face of empires, enter into the plan
    which he traced out for himself from all eternity.

    "Does not this sublime truth, which affords an inexhaustible
    subject of meditation to the well instructed and reflecting
    man, but which needs for its development the pen of a
    Bossuet,--does it not apply with great force to the subject
    that we have been considering?

    "Since the studies of our age have been principally directed
    to the natural sciences, which the irreligious levity of the
    last age had so strangely abused to the prejudice of
    religion, we have seen the most admirable discoveries
    confirming the physical history of the primitive world, as
    it is given by Moses. It is sufficient to cite in proof of
    this fact, the geological labours of our celebrated Cuvier.
    Now that historic researches are pursued with a greater
    activity than ever before, and the monuments of antiquity
    illustrated by a judicious and promising criticism,
    Providence has also ordered, that the writings of ancient
    Egypt should in turn confirm the historic facts of the holy
    books: facts against which a _systematic_ erudition had
    furnished infidelity with so many objections that were
    unceasingly repeated, though they had been a thousand times
    refuted. We cannot doubt that human knowledge, as it becomes
    more and more disengaged from the spirit of system, and
    pursues truth as its only aim, will still attain, as it
    advances, to other analogous results.

    "Thus, as has been often said, revealed religion has no
    greater foe than ignorance. Far from making it _her ally_,
    as men who deny the testimony of all ages have not blushed
    to assert, she cannot but glory in the advance of the
    sciences. She has always favoured them, and it is chiefly
    owing to her influence, that they have been preserved in the
    midst of the barbarism from which she has rescued us. Thus
    the progress of true science, _the progress of light_ (to
    use a legitimate though often abused expression,) far from
    being at variance with revealed religion, as its enemies
    have represented,--far from being dangerous to it, as some
    of its disciples have appeared to fear, tends, on the
    contrary, each day to strengthen its claims upon all
    enlightened minds, and to prove, in opposition to the pride
    of false science, that this divine religion, confirmed as it
    is by all the truths to which the human mind attains, _is
    the truth of the Lord which endureth forever_."

We have ventured upon this protracted notice of the Essay of Mons.
Greppo, because the subject itself is one of gratifying pursuit even to
the mere scholar, but still more because it is vitally connected with
the evidences of revealed religion in which we hope that none of our
readers are altogether uninterested. There is in the Essay, no question
as to any of the minor points of the Christian faith,--there is here
nothing but what all may peruse with satisfaction. The question is one
entirely connected with evidence; and science and literature are pressed
fairly into the service of truth. The work is peculiarly valuable,
because it is the only work connected with the labours of Champollion
which has been made to wear an English dress. The works of both the
Champollions are locked up in a foreign language from most of our
readers; and we fear that the time will not soon come when there will be
sufficient encouragement either to translate or publish in this country
the splendid volumes of these brothers, who are, by their discoveries,
raising up for France the gratitude of the world. Until there shall be
liberality enough in our republic of letters, to enable us to possess
these works, with all their riches of illustration, and thus have
ancient Egypt brought to the inspection of American eyes, we would
recommend the work of Mons. Greppo, as the best, and indeed only
substitute at present known, always excepting the pages of our own
journal.

It is needless to say, that the merits of the translation cannot be
questioned, after the testimonials furnished by the learned Dr. Stuart;
without the advantage of comparing it with the original, we can speak of
its excellence relatively, for the style is clear, concise, and
classical.




    ART. IV.--IRON.

    1.--_Memorial of the workers in iron of Philadelphia,
    praying that the present duty on imported iron may be
    repealed, &c._

    2.--_Report of the Select Committee (of the Senate of the
    United States,) to whom was referred "the petition of
    upwards of three hundred mechanics, Citizens of the City and
    County of Philadelphia, employed in the various branches of
    the manufacture of iron," and also, the petition of the
    "Journeymen blacksmiths of the City and County of
    Philadelphia, employed in manufacturing anchors and chain
    cables."_

    3.--_Report of the minority of the Select Committee on
    certain memorials to reduce the duty on imported iron._

    4.--_Remarks of the majority of the Select Committee on the
    blacksmiths' petition in reply to the arguments of the
    minority._

    5.--_Manuel de la Metallurgie de fer par_ C. I. B. KARSTEN,
    _traduit de l'Allemand, par_ F. I. CULMAN, _seconde edition,
    entierement refondue, &c._ 3 vols. 8vo. pp. 504, 496, & 488.
    Mme. Thirl: 1830: Metz.

    6.--_Voyage Metallurgique en Angleterre, par_ MM. DUFRENOY
    _et_ ELIE DE BEAUMONT. 1 vol. 8vo. pp. 572. Bachelier:
    Paris: 1827.


The discussion contained in the petitions and legislative reports which
we have prefixed to this article, is one of the most powerful interest,
not merely to those concerned in the manufacture of iron, and the
articles of commerce of which it is the material, but to the whole
community. Iron, if the cheapest and most abundant, is intrinsically the
most valuable of the metals. It may supersede, and gradually has, in its
applications, superseded the greater part of the rest, and has taken the
place of wood and stone in a great variety of mechanical structures; it
is indispensable in the modern arts of the attack and defence of
nations; and its possession is the distinctive difference between
civilized man and the savage. Well was it said to Croesus exhibiting his
golden treasures, that he who possessed more iron, would speedily make
himself master of them, and the truth of the maxim was even more
powerfully verified, when the accumulated riches of the Aztecs and Incas
were acquired at the cost of a few pounds of Toledo steel.

When we compare the state of manners and arts of the Mexicans and
Peruvians with that of their Spanish conquerors, we are almost compelled
to admit, that the possession of iron was perhaps the only real
superiority in civilization which the latter possessed. Gunpowder played
but a small part in the contests where handfuls of men routed myriads;
the courage of the Indian warrior is not less firm than that of the
descendant of the Goths.

The sciences and arts which are now the boast of European civilization,
were then but awakening from a slumber of ages; in the latter, the
workmanship of Europe was in many instances inferior to that of the new
world, and in the former, to take as an instance that which occupies the
highest place, astronomy, the civil year of the Mexicans was
intercalated and restored to the solar, by a process more perfect than
that we even now employ; and the latter was not introduced into Europe
until half a century after the throne of Montezuma fell. The bloody
human sacrifices which excited to such a degree the abhorrence of the
conquerors, were not greater marks of savage cruelty, than were their
own _auto da fes_, and the tortures inflicted on Guatemozin. Yet if not
superior in bravery, in the arts, the sciences, and the more distinctive
attribute of civilization, humanity, the possession of iron was
sufficient to ensure the triumph of the Spaniards.

Of all the metallurgic arts, that by which iron is prepared from its
ores, demands the greatest degree of practical skill, and is the most
difficult to bring to perfection. Although ages have elapsed since it
first became an object of human industry, its manipulation and
preparation are yet receiving improvements, while those of the other
ancient metals appear hardly susceptible of modification or advancement.
Copper and its alloys, tin, lead, and mercury, were as well and as
cheaply prepared by the ancients as by the moderns; and the reduction of
the precious metals has received no important change, since the process
of amalgamation was first applied to them,--while the preparation of
iron is daily improving under our eyes, and its cost diminishing. It may
even be doubted whether the iron we first find mentioned in history, was
an artificial product, and not obtained from the rare masses in which it
is found existing in the native state, and which are supposed to be of
meteoric origin.

The original use of iron is ascribed in the sacred writings to Tubal
Cain, who lived before the flood;--but we have no proof that he did not
employ a native iron of this description. Be this as it may, the united
testimony of antiquity exhibits to us an alloy of copper used for the
purposes to which we apply iron, and the latter metal as comparatively
scarce, and of high value. The qualities of iron were known and
appreciated, but the art of preparing it was not understood. The reason
is obvious; those ores of iron which have an external metallic aspect,
are difficult of fusion and reduction, those which are more readily
converted, are dull, earthy in their appearance, and unlikely to attract
attention,--while gold and silver manifest in their native state their
brilliant characters, and the ores of copper and lead exhibit a higher
degree of lustre than the metals themselves.

If, then, history does not show us the ancient nations employing iron
for their arms and instruments, it is because they were unable to
prepare it. Even in the middle ages, we find copper in use for arms,
because the nations that employed it, could not conquer the difficulties
that attend the preparation of iron.

The books of Moses, however, show that iron was known at that era to the
Egyptians, and the distinction he draws between it and brass, seems in
favour of our view of the origin of that which was then employed. The
stones of the promised land were to be iron, but brass was to be dug
from the hills. Twelve hundred years before Christ, if we receive the
testimony of Homer, who, if he be rejected as an historian, must still
be admitted as a faithful painter of manners. The Greeks used an alloy
of copper for their arms, but were unacquainted with iron, which they
estimated of much higher value.

        Autar Pêleidês thêchen solon autochoônon,
        hon prin men riptaske mega sthenos Êetiônos.
        Alla êtoi ton epephne podarchos dios Achilleus,
        Ton d aget ennêessi sun alloisin chteatessin.
        Stê d orthos chai muthon en Argeioisin eeipen.
        Ornusth, hoi chai toutou aethlou peirêsesthe!
               &c.          Iliad, Book XXIII, 1. 826.

From this passage and the following lines, we learn the two-fold fact:
1. That a mass of iron of no greater weight than could be used as a
quoit, by a man of great strength, was esteemed of sufficient value to
be cited as an important article in the spoil of a prince: 2. That its
use was confined to agricultural purposes, and not applied in war. Hence
the more valuable form steel, and its tempering, were unknown.

Five hundred years later, Lycurgus attempted to introduce the use of
iron, as money, into Sparta. The reasons usually cited for this act, do
not seem to apply; and we ought not to accuse that lawgiver of the want
of knowledge in political economy that is usually ascribed to him, in
endeavouring to give a base material a conventional value to which it
was not entitled. The iron was still, probably, more costly than brass,
and the error of Lycurgus did not lie in ascribing to it a value beyond
its actual cost, but in depriving it of the property of convertibility
to useful purposes, which was necessary to maintain its price.

In the construction of the temple by Solomon, 130 years before the æra
of Lycurgus, iron was employed in great abundance; and, from the cost
lavished upon that building, we are almost warranted in considering it
as still bearing a high value, even in that country, so far in the
advance of Greece in the arts of civilized life.

Herodotus ascribes the discovery of the art of welding iron to Glaucus
of Chio, 430 years before the Christian æra. But, before this period,
the Greeks had carried the art of working it into Italy, Spain, and
Africa; and the famous mines of Elba, that are still worked, were
probably opened 700 years before Christ.

It is from the working of these mines that we are to date the
introduction of iron in such abundance as to reduce its price, bring it
into general use, and finally cause it to supersede wholly the alloys of
copper. This ore is of extremely easy reduction, by processes of great
simplicity, which furnish iron of excellent quality, and are, as we
shall hereafter see, still in use. We cannot, indeed, infer with
certainty, that these were the processes used by the ancients; but their
simplicity is a strong argument in favour of their remote invention.

Steel seems to have been known as different in qualities from iron, at a
very remote period; that is to say, it was understood that there were
varieties of iron, which when tempered, became hard, whilst others
remained soft. The intentional preparation of it, as a different
species, seems to have taken its rise among the Chalybes, a people of
Asia Minor, and it was afterwards obtained from Noricum. We still find
in the latter country, (Styria,) an ore that furnishes steel, by
processes as simple as those by which the iron is obtained from the ore
of Elba, and hence can form some tolerable guess at the mode in which
the steel of the ancients was obtained.

The third form in which we find iron as an article of commerce, namely,
cast iron, is of far more recent origin. It has been traced to the banks
of the Rhine, and it is certain that stove-plates were cast in Alsace in
A. D. 1494. From this epoch, then, dates the great improvement in the
preparation of iron, by which its price has been so far lessened, as to
render it available for innumerable purposes, from which a small
addition to its present cost would exclude it.

       *     *     *     *     *

Iron, as may be inferred from what has been stated, is known in commerce
in three distinct forms--wrought or bar iron, cast or pig iron, and
steel. The received chemical theory on this subject is, that the former
is metallic iron nearly in a pure state, and that the two latter are
chemical compounds of iron and carbon. How far this is true will be
examined in the sequel.

When wrought iron is nearly pure, it has, when in bars of not less than
an inch square, or plates not less than half an inch in thickness, a
granular structure. From the appearance of these grains, an estimate may
be had of its quality; grains without any determinate form, neither
presenting, when broken, crystalline faces, nor arranging themselves in
plates; and which, in the fracture of the bar, exhibit points, and even
filaments, manifesting the resistance they have opposed, are marks of
the best quality. If, when broken, a crystalline character is exhibited,
the quality is bad, and will, according to a disposition difficult to
describe in words, either break under the hammer when heated, or be
subject to rupture when cold. These two opposite defects are, in the
language of our manufacturers, called red and cold short, or shear. The
former fault unfits it for being easily worked; the latter destroys its
most important usefulness. When the manufacture has been badly
conducted, crystals will appear mingled with tenacious grains, and a
want of uniform consistence will render it unfit for being cut and
worked by the file. Iron of the latter character may, notwithstanding,
possess great tenacity.

In still smaller bars, good iron, in breaking, exhibits filaments like
those shown by a piece of green wood when broken across; this is
technically called nerve; and as it does not show itself in larger bars,
it has been supposed that it is the result of the process of drawing out
the bars. This is partially true, although the iron that presents a
crystalline structure will not acquire nerve, however frequently
hammered. To obtain nerve in larger masses, it is necessary to form them
of bundles of smaller bars, a process known under the name of faggoting.

       *     *     *     *     *

Iron contains in its ores many impurities of different natures,
according to circumstances, and is in its preparation exposed to several
others; by these its quality is frequently much affected. Its valuable
ores all contain the iron in the state of oxide. The oxygen, it is
generally believed, is not wholly separated even in the best malleable
iron, but enough still remains to impair in some degree its good
qualities. In its manufacture it is exposed to the action of carbon,
with which it is capable of combining. Much iron appears to contain some
of the combinations of this sort, existing in the form of hard
particles, technically known by the name of _pins_.

Of inflammable bodies, sulphur and phosphorus are frequently contained
in the ores of iron; and when pit coal is used in the manufacture, the
former substance is present, and may influence the product. The union of
sulphur, in very small quantities, with the iron, creates the defect
called red short, although it is probably not the only substance that
produces the same fault; but when it is caused by sulphur, all the good
properties of the iron are impaired, which is not always the case when
it arises from other impurities. The defect of breaking when cold, has
been attributed to the presence of phosphorus by high authority. There
are, however, ores in this country, containing a phosphate of lime,
which yield iron of excellent quality.

A mixture of sulphur and carbon deprives iron of its property of
welding, and in the highest proportion gives the opposite defects of
being both red and cold short.

Ores of iron contain the earths, silex, alumina, lime, and magnesia.
With the bases of these earths the metal is capable of forming alloys;
those of the three first are often thus combined. Silicium has been
discovered combined with iron to the extent of 3-1/2 per cent. It has
been found to render this metal harder, more brittle, and more similar
in structure to steel; so small a quantity as 1/2 per cent. has been
sufficient to render it liable to break when cold; and it appears
probable, that by far the greater part of the cold short irons owe this
fault to the presence of silex, rather than to that of phosphorus. Iron
obtained from the ores by means of coal, is, under circumstances of
equality in other respects, more likely to be combined with silicium
than when made with charcoal. Karsten infers that a combination with
aluminum produces similar defects, and denies the assertion of Faraday,
that the good qualities of a steel brought from India are due to an
alloy with this earthy base. A combination with the metallic base of
lime, lessens the property that iron possesses of being welded, but does
not render it more liable to fracture, either under the hammer or when
cold.

Of the metals proper:--

Copper renders iron red short.

Lead combines with iron with great difficulty, so that its presence in
the ores can hardly be considered dangerous, but when the combination is
formed, the iron is both liable to break when red-hot and when cold.

A very small quantity of tin destroys the strength of iron in a great
degree when cold, but still leaves it fit to be forged.

Wrought iron does not appear to unite with zinc, but its presence in the
ores is injurious to the manufacture, for a reason that will be
hereafter stated.

Antimony renders iron cold short, the alloy is harder and more fusible,
and approaches in character to cast iron.

Arsenic produces a great waste in the manufacture of iron, and when
alloyed with it, injures or destroys its capability of being welded.

Ores which contain titanium, according to universal experience in this
country, give an iron inclining to the defect of red short, but
possessing the highest degree of tenacity. Such are several of the ores
of the northern part of New-Jersey, and of Orange County, New-York.

Manganese in small quantities renders iron harder, but injures none of
its good qualities. Many of our ores contain manganese, but when
carefully manufactured the iron appears to contain but an insensible
trace of this _metal_.

Nickel unites with iron in all proportions, and gives a soft and
tenacious alloy; no good property of the iron appears to be injured by
it. United with steel it gives an alloy of excellent quality. Nickel is
rare among the ores of iron that are not of meteoric origin. But native
malleable iron is occasionally found in large masses alloyed with this
metal, and its extrinsic source has been fully ascertained. The masses
are sometimes of very great size; we have already expressed our opinion
that the iron that first came into use was derived from this source, and
had been employed for ages before the processes for preparing it from
its more abundant ores were discovered.

Cast iron is distinguished into two varieties, which are obviously
distinct in character, the grey and the white; a mixture of the two
forms that which is called mottled. It is generally believed, and
usually stated in the books, that both of these are combinations of iron
with carbon, and that their difference in appearance and quality grows
out of the difference in the proportions in which the two substances
exist; that the grey iron contains the greatest dose of carbon, and the
white the least. There is, as will be seen, good reason to question the
latter part of this statement.

The grey iron requires the greatest degree of heat for its fusion, is
more fluid when melted, is softest, best fitted for castings which
require to be turned or filed, and for those that must be thin; the
white iron is very hard and brittle; the greatest degree of strength and
tenacity is due to the mixture, or mottled iron, and to that variety of
mottled in which the grey rather predominates.

The different varieties are readily convertible, for the grey iron when
melted and suddenly cooled becomes white, when cooled more slowly is
mottled, and when carefully preserved from rapid loss of heat, retains
its colour. On the other hand, experiments on a small scale have shown,
that white cast iron, subjected to a heat equal to that at which the
grey melts, and allowed to cool slowly, becomes grey. Hence their
difference can hardly be ascribed to chemical constitution. Neither can
the presence of a greater or less quantity of oxygen, as is sometimes
supposed, produce the difference, for under circumstances in all other
respects similar, except the rate at which they are cooled, iron of the
three different varieties may be produced, We therefore feel warranted
in rejecting the usual theory, particularly as the reception of it has
rather impeded than advanced the manufacture of iron.

The theory of Karsten is far more consistent with the facts, and is
directly applicable to the practical purposes of the iron master. We
shall endeavour to give a succinct exposition of this theory,
introducing all that is necessary for its full explanation.

The ores of iron, which are all oxides, are reduced by exposing them to
the action of carbonaceous matter, at a high temperature. The carbon
first separates the oxygen from the ore, which becomes metallic, but as
it has for the carbon a high affinity, that substance tends to combine
with it. The iron combined with carbon is rendered far more fusible than
it is when pure, and thus readily melts; when the heat of the furnace is
little more than is sufficient for effecting this fusion, the two
substances are uniformly mixed, and probably form a compound analogous
to a metallic alloy; this is the white cast iron. When the compound is
exposed to a heat higher than is sufficient to melt it, a separation
appears again to take place, the carbon tending to assume in part the
form of plumbago, the iron to retain no more of carbon than is
sufficient to keep it liquid at the new temperature, and thus passes
from the state of cast iron to that of steel, and finally approaches to
that of malleable iron. If the cooling take place slowly, the carbon,
obeying its own law of crystallization, arranges itself in thin plates,
and the iron, consolidating afterwards, fills up all the interstices
with grains or imperfect crystals; and thus the mass assumes a dark grey
colour, partly owing to the natural colour of the iron, but in a greater
degree to the plumbago. When the cooling is rapid, the carbon still
disseminated throughout the mass, does not crystallize separately, but
the two substances again form an uniform compound.

Thus, according to the theory, there is no essential difference in the
proportion of carbon between grey and white cast iron, but the former is
a mechanical mixture of crystals of carbon, nearly pure, with iron
containing a less proportion of carbon than the white, while the white
iron is a homogeneous alloy of carbon and iron.

Upon this theory may be explained all the facts which have been found
wholly irreconcilable with the other.

1. The more intense the heat of the furnace, the deeper the colour, and
consequently the higher quality of the cast iron.

2. The changes that take place from grey to white cast iron, merely by
difference in the rate of cooling.

3. The reconversion of the white variety into grey, by simply heating it
above its melting temperature, and allowing it to cool gradually.

4. The formation of imperfect crystals of plumbago (_kish_) on the
surface of grey iron.

5. The approach to malleability of the grey iron, which is utterly
irreconcilable with its being a homogeneous compound, more charged with
carbon than the white.

The basis of white cast iron, appears to be a definite chemical
compound, of two atoms of iron to one of carbon, and is therefore
analogous in its chemical constitution to carburet of hydrogen and
carburet of sulphur, but like all metallic alloys it is capable of
containing an excess of one of the substances in a state of mixture
during fusion, and which does not separate on rapid cooling. The iron
alone is found in excess in this substance.

Steel appears to contain but half the quantity of carbon in its chemical
proportions that white cast iron does, but, like it, is susceptible of a
variety of mixtures; if the proportion of carbon amount to three per
cent., it loses the property of malleability, if the proportion fall as
low as one per cent. it can no longer be tempered, and is identical with
the harder varieties of bar-iron. As the carburets of iron, whether in
the form of pig or of steel, may be considered as alloys, if they be
presented to other metals, the results must necessarily be different
from what occurs when pure iron is exposed to the same substance. The
union that may take place in the one instance may not occur in the
other. It may often happen, that when the iron is pure, a true chemical
combination will occur, while in the other case, no more than a
mechanical mixture can be effected. For the same reason, the consequence
may be totally different when the third substance is presented to the
iron when first deoxidated, in the presence merely of an excess of
carbon, and when the combination with that substance has actually
occurred.

If reduced at the same time with the iron, the other metals will unite
with it more readily than with the carburet, and they may afterwards
prevent its union with carbon, for there are few, if any metals, besides
iron, which have any affinity for carbon.

Cast iron may contain the bases of the earths that form a part of its
ores. Of these, silicium is the most usual, and there is probably no
cast iron that does not contain a portion of it. It appears to render
this form of the metal harder and less suitable for the purposes of the
moulder, but is separated almost wholly when it is converted into
wrought iron.

We have seen a parcel of pig iron that was marked with a species of
white efflorescence, ascertained on examination to be silica; this was
rejected for its hardness by the founder, but on being manufactured by
the process of puddling, gave bar iron of good quality.

From what has just been stated, it appears that the other metals more
generally exist in cast iron, in a state of alloy with pure iron, which
is intimately mixed with the carburet. Thus as a general rule, the pig
which contains them, will be more likely to be grey in colour than that
which does not, but it may, notwithstanding, be injured in quality. The
exact effect of such alloys upon cast iron, does not appear to have been
fully examined.

       *     *     *     *     *

The ores whence iron is obtained, are all oxides, with the exception of
a carbonate whence steel is in a few places obtained directly. They
contain, in combination with the iron, or forming parts of a
heterogeneous aggregate, a variety of earthy substances. In the
reduction of these ores, two objects are to be accomplished, the
separation of the oxygen, and the fusion of the earthy mass. Carbon, in
some one of its native or artificial forms, is used to effect the former
purpose, upon the same principle that it is applied to the other
metallic oxides. Thus a furnace in which a fire of carbonaceous matter
is kept up and urged to the highest possible degree of intensity by
blowing machines, is necessary. When the earths are pure, even the
highest heat of furnaces is incapable of fusing them, and although the
oxides of the ancient metals, and among the rest, the oxide of iron,
increase the fusibility of one of the earths; still, if but one earth be
present, it is only in a few cases that the simple ore will furnish the
means of its own fusion. We are therefore compelled to make use of the
property possessed by the earths, of rendering each other more fusible.

Silica is the earth to which we have referred, as being susceptible of
fusion when mixed with the oxide of iron. Silica, also, when mixed with
the other earths, renders them more fusible than is its own mixture with
oxide of iron. Hence it may be stated as a general rule, that ores which
do not contain silica, cannot be decomposed without the addition of that
earth. The most of our American ores contain silex in sufficient
abundance; hence it is usual to add to them, in the process of
reduction, carbonate of lime, which is called _flux_. Did not the ore
contain silica, this would not produce its effect, and a due admixture
of the three earths, silica, alumina, and lime, appears to be necessary
to cause the most advantageous results.

The remarks of Karsten on this head are new and worthy of attention.

    "It is upon the choice and the just proportion of the flux,
    that the profit of the manufacturer in a great degree
    depends. Employed in too great quantities they fail in the
    important purpose of giving to the scoriæ a proper
    consistence. It is very difficult to fix their proportions
    exactly, and, in truth, these ought to vary with the manner
    in which the furnace works; but a proportion determined for
    a state of the furnace when the temperature is neither too
    high nor too low, is usually adopted.

    "Chemists and metallurgists, have endeavoured to determine
    the degree of fusibility of the earths when mixed with each
    other; but their researches have shed but little light upon
    the management of blast furnaces. We are, in spite of them,
    still compelled to have recourse to experience. Far,
    however, be it from me to depreciate the attempts of Achurd,
    Bergman, Chaptal, Cramer, &c.; they are valuable at least,
    in pointing out the road that is to be pursued in the
    experiments.

    "It follows, in general terms, from these experiments, that
    lime, silica, alumina, and magnesia, are infusible when not
    mixed with each other; that no mixture of earths is fusible
    without the presence of silica; that the fusion of the
    oxides of iron cannot take place by the addition of any
    simple earth other than silica; that ternary mixtures are
    more fusible than binary; that quaternary mixtures vitrify
    even more readily, and that the oxide of manganese promptly
    determines the liquefaction of all the earths.

    "The theory of the vitrification of oxides, aided by trials
    on a small scale, points out the kind of earthy mixture
    which ought to be employed, but it cannot fix the exact
    proportion of the different earths that ought to be adopted;
    nor does it teach the means of replacing an earth by its
    chemical equivalent, as, for instance lime, by magnesia. The
    solution of the question will depend rather upon the
    properties of the silicates of lime and magnesia at high
    temperatures, than upon the action of these silicates upon
    iron. It is hardly probable that the iron obtained from all
    ores, could be equally good, even if the most proper fluxes
    could be added to these ores. Those who have maintained this
    opinion, have erroneously imagined that the reduction of the
    ore could always be effected under the same circumstances,
    which would not be the case, even if these fluxes were
    ascertained and made use of."

Most of the ores of iron require, before they are subjected to the
process of reduction, a preparatory operation called roasting. This
consists in exposing them to a comparatively low heat. The more
important use of this process is to render the mass more susceptible of
mechanical division, but it also serves in many cases to separate the
sulphur and arsenic that may exist in the ore. There are some ores, as,
for instance, those of a number of mines in Morris and Sussex counties,
New-Jersey, which are so free from impurities, and which yield so
readily to the mechanical means employed for separating them, that this
process is wholly unnecessary; but such ores are rare, and the process
of roasting must, generally speaking, be performed.

The mechanical division, which exposes a larger surface to the action of
heat and of the chemical agents, is called stumping; this is usually
performed by appropriate machinery, but was in the infancy of the art
effected by hand.

The reduction of rich ores of iron, such as are almost wholly made up of
its oxides, and contain but little earthy matter, may be performed in a
common smith's forge. The reduction in this case takes place immediately
in the blast of the bellows, where the intensely heated ore is in
contact with the burning charcoal; and if a carburet be formed, it is
immediately decomposed, and pure iron is the result. Such is probably
the more ancient of all the processes for obtaining malleable iron, and
it is still used to a certain extent even at the present day. The hearth
in which the operation is at present performed, differs from the forge
of a common smith only in its greater size, and in the increased power
of its bellows. A cavity is prepared, in which a charcoal lire is
lighted, and to which the nozzle or _tuyere_ of the bellows is directed;
ore in minute fragments is thrown upon the ignited fuel, fresh coal and
ore are added from time to time, and the latter being reduced to the
malleable state descends, as the charcoal burns away, to the bottom of
the cavity. Here the successive portions, still kept hot by the fuel
above them, agglutinate, and form a porous mass, containing in its
cavities a black vitreous substance, which is composed of the earthy
matter rendered fusible by the metallic oxide. This porous mass is
called the _Loup_.

It would be unsafe to subject the loup immediately to the action of
heavy hammers of iron. It is, therefore, after being withdrawn from the
fire, beaten with wooden mallets, to bring its parts into closer
contact, and press out the vitreous matter. While this is performed, it
cools so much as to require to be again heated, which is done in the
same fire. Indeed, the same forge is used in all the successive heats
that the iron in this process requires.

After the loup has been again heated, it may be subjected to the hammer.
This unquestionably was anciently one moved by hand; but now, in all
manufactories of this character, a heavy mass of case hardened iron is
employed for the purpose; this is lifted by machinery impelled by a
water wheel, and permitted to fall upon the loup. The loup is again
heated, and again beaten into an irregular octangular prism, called the
cingle; this, after a third heat, is formed into a rectangular block,
called a bloom; and the whole, or a proper proportion of this is drawn
into a bar, at three successive heats; the middle being beaten out
first, and the two ends in succession. Thus, in addition to the heat
employed in the original reduction, the iron must be at least six times
reheated before it becomes a finished marketable bar.

In this manner the ore of Elba is still manufactured in Catalonia and
Tuscany, and there can be little doubt that it is identical with the
original rude process, by which the iron of that most ancient of known
mines was prepared to be an object of commerce. The processes in these
two districts differ from each other in some minute particulars, and are
known on the continent of Europe as the processes _à la Catalane_ and _à
l'Italienne_. This method is known in the United States by the name of
_blooming_.

Bloomeries are frequent in the United States, being found in many parts
of the primitive country, where the magnetic ore of iron is abundant.
The iron manufactured by blooming is, generally speaking, remarkable for
its nerve, being strong and tenacious in the highest degree, unless the
ore be in fault. It is not, however, homogeneous, being liable to
contain what are called pins, or grains that have the hardness and
consistence of steel.

Blooming is comparatively an expensive process. It requires, indeed,
little original capital, but the product in proportion to the capital
employed is but small. It is wholly impracticable with poor ores, and
demands a great length of time and expenditure of fuel, unless the ore
be very fusible. Another objection to it is common to a process we shall
hereafter describe, that of refining, and lies in the numerous
successive heats, which the small extent of fire, and the slow process
of hammering render necessary, before the bar is finished. It has been
attempted in New-Jersey to lessen the expense attending these heats, by
performing them in reverberatory furnaces. A saving of fuel to a small
amount would probably thus be effected, but the number of heats would
still remain the same. A more important and useful improvement has
superseded the last; the process of rolling, which will be hereafter
described, has been introduced, and by means of it a bar may be drawn
out at a single heat, and at far less expense of manual labour. Such
establishments exist at Dover and Rockaway, New-Jersey, which receive
the iron completely reduced from the neighbouring forges, and fashion it
into bars.

A forge fire, and, consequently, the process of blooming, is
insufficient to convert poor ores, or those that contain much earthy
matter, into iron. Treated in this way, those ores, if fusible at all,
would become a mass of slag, as the earth would require, at the
temperature of a forge fire, the whole, or the greater part of the
metallic oxide for its fusion.

Iron being introduced, and its valuable applications known, it became
necessary, in those countries that do not afford rich ores, to discover
a method by which the poorer might be reduced. This could only be
effected by giving such a degree of heat, as would render the earthy
matter capable of melting, at a less expense of metal. To increase the
mass of fuel, by increasing the depth of the cavity, and actually
forming it of walls, thus enabling it to contain a greater quantity,
would be obvious means of attaining this end. The ore must be added in
smaller proportions, and, being longer in contact with the heated
charcoal, would become carbureted; the carbon must therefore be finally
burned away, before malleable iron could be attained. A rude but
efficient process of this sort, is described by Gmelin as in use among
the Tartars; an analogous method, whose use has been superseded by iron
imported from Europe, was found among the nations of Guinea; and Mungo
Park saw a more perfect application of the same principle at Camalia, on
the Gambia. Furnaces of similar character, but more skilfully
constructed, are still used in some parts of Germany, and are called
_stuckoffen_.

As a carburet, or actual cast-iron, must be formed in these processes,
and, as the separation of carbon at the bottom of a deep cylinder, and
where the metal would probably be covered by a vitreous liquid, is
difficult, the iron might sometimes resist the efforts made to render it
malleable, and run from the furnace in a liquid form. It might therefore
have readily occurred, that it would be less costly to finish the
process in a forge. The _stuckoffen_ were therefore converted into
_flossoffen_, or melting furnaces, whence the liquid carburet was
withdrawn, and afterwards converted into bar iron. Such was probably the
cause that led to the original discovery of cast iron, a discovery that
cannot be traced further back than the end of the fifteenth century.

The uses of cast iron for purposes to which wrought iron is
inapplicable, and the readiness with which it is fashioned, by pouring
it into moulds, led to the increase of the size of the _flossoffen_, and
in the power of the blowing apparatus, which has caused the introduction
of the blast furnace. This forms the basis of the methods by which iron
in all its forms is chiefly prepared at the present day, and is hence
worthy of particular consideration.

The difference between the blast furnace proper, and the ancient fires
from which it gradually took its rise, consists wholly in its superior
height, and in the greater power of the blowing machines, by which its
combustion is supplied with air.

This increase of height adds to the mass of the contained
combustible,--additional air is therefore required for effecting its
complete inflammation, and the joint effect is, that a much higher
temperature is generated. By this, the earthy matters either contained
in the ores, forming portions of the combustible, or added as _fluxes_,
are rendered fusible at a less expense of oxide of iron; the carburet
formed, becomes more fluid, and the product is more likely to assume the
character of grey pig-iron.

Charcoal, as in the other processes, was the fuel originally employed,
and is still principally used in most countries. But coal deprived of
its volatile parts, and charred or converted into coke, has been
substituted in some regions, as will hereafter be stated. Each of these
combustibles requires a furnace of appropriate character, and demands a
difference in the mode of management.

A blast-furnace is a hollow chamber enveloped, generally speaking, in a
mass of masonry, of the form of a truncated pyramid. The chamber is
composed essentially of three parts; the upper has the figure of a
truncated cone, whose greatest base is lowest: this may be called the
body of the furnace; the middle portion has also the figure of a
truncated cone, whose greater base is uppermost, and is common to it and
the upper portion: this contraction is called the _boshes_ of the
furnace; the lower position is called the hearth, and is usually
enclosed on three sides by walls of refractory substances, on the fourth
it is bounded by two stones, one serving as a lintel, which is called
the tymp, the other resting on the foundation, and known by the name of
the _dam_. Such at least is the shape of the blast furnaces in common
use, and which will suffice for our present purpose.

The blast is introduced into the hearth, at a small distance above the
level of the upper edge of the dam, and is now generally performed by
means of two _tuyeres_; in the more ancient furnaces, there was but one.
The furnace being completely dried, a fire is lighted in the hearth, and
fuel gradually added, until the whole is filled to the _trundle head_,
which is the open and lesser base of the truncated cone that forms the
body of the furnace. The blast may then be applied, slowly and gently at
first, and increasing gradually, until it reach its maximum of
intensity. As the blast proceeds, the charcoal gradually burns, and
descends; its place is supplied at top by fresh fuel, by ore, and by the
earthy matter used as a flux. This is styled _charging_ the furnaces.
The earlier charges often contain no ore, but are wholly composed of
charcoal and flux, and, in all cases, the proportion of ore and flux is
at first small, and is gradually augmented. The charges are made as
often as the mixed mass in the furnace descends sufficiently low to
admit the quantity that is chosen as the proper amount. The charcoal is
thrown in first, and the ore and flux are spread and mixed upon its
surface. The principles which govern the amount of the charge, are as
follows:--

    "The volume of the charges depends upon the capacity of the
    furnace. If they be too large, they cool the upper part of
    the furnace, which will cause great inconveniences,
    particularly if zinc exist in the ore. On the other hand,
    small charges of charcoal will be cut or displaced by the
    ore, which will occasion a descent by sudden falls, in an
    oblique direction, or in a confused manner. It follows that
    the volume of the charge, although proportioned to the
    volume of the furnace, must be augmented: when the charcoal
    is light and susceptible of being displaced; and with the
    friability, the weight, and the shape of the fragments of
    the ore."

    "The heat, considered in any given horizontal section of the
    furnace, will be intense in proportion to the thickness of
    the layer of charcoal that reaches it. It follows, that the
    fusible ore requires smaller charges of charcoal than one
    that is more refractory. If the beds of charcoal and mineral
    are too thick, the upper part of the furnace will not be
    sufficiently heated. Hence it is obvious, that there must be
    a maximum and minimum charge for every different dimension
    of furnace, and for every different species of ore and
    fuel." _Karsten_.

The charge of charcoal being determined upon such principles, it is
added by measure, and always in equal quantities, while the proportion
of ore and flux is made to vary, not only by a gradual increase at the
beginning of the operation, but according to the working of the furnace.
The manner in which the furnace is working can be inferred, even before
its products are ascertained, by the appearance of the flame at the
trundle-head, and at the tymp, by the manner in which the charge
descends, and more surely still, by the appearance of the scoriæ. By a
strict attention to these circumstances the proportion of the charge of
ore may be regulated. A fortnight usually elapses from the time of the
first charge until it reaches a regular state of working, and variations
will occur even after that period, in consequence of the greater or less
moisture of the combustible and minerals, the continual wearing away of
the sides of the furnace, the variations in the state of the atmosphere,
and in the play of the blowing machines, the greater or less attention
of the workmen, and numerous other accidental circumstances.

The mode of proceeding when coke is the fuel employed, rests upon the
same principles, but the dimensions of furnace that are best suited to
the different combustibles are different. As a general principle, the
height of furnaces must depend upon the force of the blast and the
density of the fuel. If the fuel be dense, and the blowing machine weak,
the furnace must not have a great height; and even if the blast can be
made strong, too high a furnace is disadvantageous for light charcoal.
Coke, on the other hand, may be used in furnaces of greater height than
any species of charcoal, provided the blast be of sufficient power. So
long as the imperfect bellows were used in blowing, the height of the
furnace was limited wholly by their action. More powerful apparatus in
the form of cylinders, analogous in form and arrangement to those of
steam-engines, and like them, either single or double acting, have now
been introduced; the intensity of the blast is in them only limited by
the moving power, which is applied to them, and when this is the steam
engine, it may be said, that no limit can arise from the want of blast.
We may, therefore, at the present day, regulate the height of furnaces
by the nature of the fuel that is consumed in them.

The greater part of the furnaces in our country still retain the ancient
and imperfect form of bellows, hence their height is restricted to the
limits of from eighteen to twenty-four feet, and rarely or never reaches
thirty. But when the apparatus is such as to supply a proper quantity of
air, it has been found that even with light and porous charcoal, such as
is given by white pine, the height ought not to be less than thirty
feet, and when hard woods are used should be as great as thirty-six
feet. Furnaces of even forty feet have been found to answer an excellent
purpose, where the charcoal was prepared from oak. When coke is used,
furnaces have been made as high as fifty, or even as seventy feet; but
experience in England has shown, that from forty-five to forty-eight
feet is the proper limit. This height is not at present exceeded in that
country, even when the furnace has the greatest dimensions in other
respects, and has been found efficacious, even when the vast quantity of
eighteen tons has been furnished daily by a single furnace.

The force of the blast will depend upon the nature of the fuel, the
volume of air, the quantity of mixed material the furnace holds; and
thus furnaces in which coke is used, will require the most powerful
blast, whether we have regard to the volume or the intensity. The latter
may be measured by a column of mercury adapted in a syphon tube to the
air pipes, exactly as the gauge is adapted to the pipes of the steam
engine.

The reduction and liquefaction of the metal take place progressively, as
the charges descend in the furnace. The separation of the oxygen is due
to the presence of carbonaceous matter at high temperatures, begins at
the surface of the pieces of ore, and proceeds gradually inwards; the
earthy parts of the ore, of the fuel employed, and the flux, unite and
melt; they are thus separated, and being sooner fused than the metal,
make their way through the charcoal, and descend first to the hearth.
The reduced metal, continuing in contact with the burning carbon,
acquires a greater or less portion of that substance, becomes fusible,
melts, and follows the liquified earths. Dropping into the hearth that
already contains the liquid vitrified earths, it passes by its superior
gravity to the bottom, and is protected by them from the blast. Even at
the bottom of the hearth, the heat is sufficient to retain the
carbureted metal in a liquid state, and this is permitted gradually to
accumulate, until it rises nearly to the level of the dam.

It now becomes necessary to withdraw or _cast_ the metal. This is done
by forcing a way through a channel left beneath the dam in the masonry
of the hearth, and closed with clay; the inner portion of this is baked
hard, and requires to be broken through with a steel point. As soon as
the passage is opened, the metal runs out, and is received in a long
trench formed in the sand floor of the moulding house, to which are
adapted a number of less trenches, at right angles, each containing
about one hundred weight of metal. The metal in the longer trench is
also broken into pieces of the same size, and the ingots thus formed are
called _pigs_, whence the term for this variety, _pig iron_.

From one to three days will elapse from the time of the first charge
until the furnace can be tapped, and pigs cast. From that time the
casting succeeds with tolerable regularity, according to the working of
the furnace, and at intervals depending upon the volume of the charge,
and the capacity of the hearth.

It appears probable that the fusion of the iron is effected always by a
direct chemical union of that metal with carbon, in the proportion of
two atoms of the former to one of the latter. This constitutes, as we
have seen, the white variety of pig iron. But as it continues, generally
speaking, in the furnace, long after its fusion takes place, it acquires
a temperature higher than its proper melting point, and a tendency to
separation takes place, the iron retaining in combination no more of the
carbon than is necessary to maintain it in a fluid state at the
increased temperature. Thus the grey variety of pig iron is formed; and
on casting it, the carbon, in a form similar to that of plumbago, is
disseminated throughout the mass, or forms on its surface the
efflorescence that is called kish, and which is always a sign of a high
quality in the iron it accompanies.

In conformity with this theory, we find that a high temperature in the
furnace always produces grey cast iron; and that a low temperature, from
whatever cause it may arise, renders the iron more or less inclining to
white. So also if the metal be not exposed to the heat for a sufficient
length of time, it becomes white.

Karsten classes these several causes of whiteness in the product, in the
following order:--

    "In conformity with the observations that have hitherto been
    made, white cast iron is obtained:

    "1. By the use of ores that are too easily fusible, or which
    is the same thing, by an excess of flux, by a want of
    density in the charcoal, and by too strong a blast, even
    when the working of the furnace is regular.

    "2. By a surcharge of ore, which deranges the action of the
    furnace, and produces impure cinder, containing uncombined
    iron.

    "3. By boshes of too rapid a slope, and a blast of too great
    a velocity; and this may occur even where the cinder is
    pure.

    "4. By too low a temperature, even when the cinder is pure,
    and the furnace works regularly.

    "5. By a derangement in the action of the furnace, arising
    not from a surcharge of ore, but from an irregularity in the
    descent of the charge.

    "6. By the substances contained in the body of the furnace
    exercising too great a pressure upon those beneath; the heat
    in this case, concentrated in the hearth, cannot reach the
    boshes, and the upper part of the furnace; the working may
    be regular, the cinder and flame may in this case give no
    sign of derangement.

    "7. By too great a breadth in the furnace.

    "8. When coke is used, it may arise from too great a
    quantity of ashes, or of fossil charcoal, (anthracite,)
    being contained in it. The presence of these will keep down
    the heat of the furnace. An excess of ashes may be remedied,
    by using the ore and flux in proper proportions to fuse
    them, but a diminution in the charge must be made; the
    cinder becomes viscid, and likely to obstruct the descent of
    the charges.

    "9. By an accidental cooling, arising from humidity, and
    other similar causes."

Among the last may be reckoned the presence of zinc in the ore. This
metal, although volatile, is not separated at the temperature given in
the process of roasting, nor does it sublime in the upper and cooler
parts of the furnace. But, as the ore descends, it passes into the state
of vapour, and requires for its conversion, great quantities of heat
that becomes latent. It hence cools the lower part of the furnace far
more rapidly than even wet coal, or moist ores. The cooling thus caused,
may not be effected until the melted metal reach the hearth, and may
there cause it to become solid. Thus the solid mass called a salamander,
may, in some cases, be formed; and thus may be explained the fact, that
ores of iron that contain the more easily fusible metal zinc, are more
liable to interrupt the action of the furnace in this manner, than
others. The volatilized zinc rises to the upper part of the furnace,
where the heat is often insufficient to retain it in the state of
vapour, and is then deposited on the sides. In this position, it will
also disturb the action of the furnace.

Coke being more dense than charcoal, will, in its combustion, furnish a
more intense heat;--hence it is hardly possible to obtain by a charcoal
fire, iron of as deep a colour as may be procured by the use of the
former fuel. It will also resist the pressure of far greater weights
than charcoal, and hence the proportion of ore may be much greater when
it is used; containing more and less fusible earthy matters than
charcoal, it requires a greater quantity of flux.

In the manufacture of cast iron then, coke gives iron better suited for
small castings, for those which require turning or filing, and yields a
far greater quantity from a furnace. Hence arises the very great
superiority which Great Britain has, until recently, possessed over most
other countries, in those fabrics in which these qualities are valuable;
and hence it has been found until lately, in this country, hardly
possible to manufacture fine machinery that requires workmanship after
it is cast, without the aid of the higher qualities of Scotch iron,
which, in these qualities, exceeds even the English. Recently, however,
iron fully equal to the best Scotch, but like it wanting in tenacity,
has been manufactured at the Bennington furnace in Vermont:--so also at
the Greenwood furnace in Orange county, N. Y., and at West Point, iron
approaching to the Scotch in softness, but very superior in strength,
has been produced. In these cases, the height of the furnace has been
carried up to the limits we have before laid down, and powerful blowing
cylinders substituted for the ancient bellows.

When the pig iron is to be used for re-casting, every effort ought to be
used to obtain it of the deepest possible colour. This, as may be seen
from what has been already stated, will be effected by keeping the
furnace at the highest possible temperature, and exposing the metal to
it a sufficient length of time. In effecting this, however, certain
defects may arise:--thus a longer exposure to a high heat, will cause
the reduction of other oxides that may be present, as of manganese and
the metallic bases of the earths; and the iron in becoming more soft,
and approaching in fact more nearly to the form of the pure metal, will
combine and form alloys with these bases. In this way, it will, as has
been stated, become cold short; and to this may be attributed the want
of strength in the greater part, if not all, of the British iron. The
use of coke as a fuel, tends to increase this defect, in consequence of
the great quantity of earthy matter it contains.

When the ores are pure, cast iron manufactured by charcoal, is not
liable to such a fault. Hence the cast iron of Sweden and the United
States, manufactured from the magnetic iron, or, in some cases in this
country, from rich hæmatites, has very superior tenacity, insomuch that
these two nations have alone been able to use this material in the
construction of field pieces. When white iron is obtained from a
furnace, it may have two different qualities. The first arises from a
mere defect of heat, where all other circumstances are favourable, and
the ore is completely reduced. The second arises when the reduction is
not complete, and the separation of the earths and other oxides has not
been fully effected. Of all the varieties of cast iron, this latter is
by far the worst. It is indeed more easily converted into wrought iron
than the other species, but the product is always of very inferior
quality; it is rarely or never produced by furnaces fed with charcoal,
but may be obtained by accident or design in those where coke is used,
by a surcharge of ore, or by too great a proportion of flux, and
sometimes cannot be avoided in warm and moist weather, where the air is
rarefied and charged with vapour.

The grey iron obtained by the use of each of the different kinds of
fuel, has its own peculiar advantages; that made with coke possessing,
as a general rule, when melted, a higher degree of fluidity which adapts
it for more delicate castings; being softer and better suited for
fitting; while that manufactured with charcoal, possesses a greater
degree of strength. One solitary instance has been quoted, in which a
manufacturer of great intelligence has obtained by the use of charcoal,
from a very pure ore, a union of both these valuable properties, and
another, in which iron as soft as that made with coke, has been produced
by means of charcoal.

In spite of this apparent balance in the properties of the two fuels,
the introduction of coke into the art of reducing iron has been attended
with the most important advantages. These lie in the superior economy of
the process, and in the enormous quantity of the product. The
manufacture of iron by charcoal is limited, by the growth of the
forests, which replace themselves only at distant periods, by the large
space they occupy, and the consequent labour of transportation; by the
cost of cutting the wood and preparing the coal; and finally, even when
the fuel can be obtained in abundance, and at small cost, the burden of
the furnace, and the heat obtained in a given space are less than when
coke is used, and the quantity of metal yielded is in consequence
comparatively small. The coke furnaces of Great Britain, have therefore
supplied cast iron in such abundance and at such diminished prices as to
have brought it into use for a great variety of purposes, to which,
until recently, it was hardly considered applicable.

In England, as in other countries, charcoal was the only fuel at first
used; and after bloomeries had been in vogue for centuries, the blast
furnace was introduced from the shores of the Rhine. For many years the
growth of the forests proved sufficient to supply the demand, but at
length the increase of population caused them to be encroached upon by
cultivation; the growth of the manufacture was first prevented, and
finally, almost extinguished.

The method by charcoal appears to have reached its acme of prosperity,
at the close of the reign of the First James, when the furnaces of the
kingdom yielded 180,000 tons of pig iron. About this period, Dudley
first proposed the use of pit coal; but the time had not yet arrived in
which it was absolutely necessary to seek for a new process, in
consequence of the failure of the old one.

In 1745, or in the course of one hundred and thirty years, the forests
had been so far encroached upon, that the product of the furnaces had
fallen to 17,000 tons per annum, and in 1788, the quantity made with
charcoal had dwindled as low as 13,000 tons. At this epoch, coke was
introduced into blast furnaces, and in eight years the whole quantity
produced by both methods had mounted up to 150,000 tons, or increased
more than tenfold.

At nearly the lowest ebb of the British manufacture, the art of
preparing iron was introduced into her then provinces, the present
United States; and in 1737 it was attempted to obtain permission to
introduce the product into England. The attempt failed, and in 1750 an
act was passed to protect the exportation of English iron to America,
and to prevent the establishment of forges. Had the other policy
prevailed, England would probably have seen her manufacture of iron
transferred to the United States, and with great immediate advantage
both to herself and her then most valuable colony; but she would
probably have seen herself at the present day degraded from her high
stand in the scale of nations, to the secondary place in which the
extent of her territory would keep her, were it not for the superiority
of her manufacturing industry, of which iron is the basis. The quantity
of iron now produced in England, exceeds that furnished by the rest of
the world united, and does not fall short of 800,000 tons. It has a
value even in its raw state of near four millions sterling, and is of
far greater intrinsic worth, in consequence of the spur which its
abundance gives to every other branch of industry.

Bar iron is at the present day principally manufactured from the pig.
The process originally used for this purpose is called refining. The
fire in which it is performed is a forge, similar in form and character
to that employed in blooming. In blooming, the iron must be reduced,
combines with carbon, and is subsequently decarbureted; while in the
refining, the latter part of the operation alone remains. In this last
process, while the carbon is burning away, the metallic bases of the
earths are then oxidated, combine with oxide of iron, and form a
vitreous substance. Hence, when it is carefully conducted, by far the
greater part of the impurities contained in the cast iron may be
removed. Refined iron, if made from ore of equal purity, is not inferior
in tenacity to bloomed, and is superior in other respects, being more
homogeneous, free from pins, and more easily treated by the smith. As a
general rule, it is also less costly, that is to say, the same quantity
of charcoal and workmanship will furnish a greater quantity of refined
iron. It requires, however, a much greater capital, and the labour of
transporting the coal from the greater distances which the increased
consumption of a single blast furnace and several refineries will
demand, may swell the cost of that article. A bloomery fire does not
require more than 2000 acres of woodland, while a blast furnace will use
the charcoal of 5000. Thus it happens, that it may be more advantageous
to spread a number of bloomeries over a given district of country, than
to unite a blast furnace and an equal number of refineries in a single
place. The celebrated iron of Sweden and Russia is refined, and our
country furnishes iron prepared in the same manner not inferior in
quality. The principle objection to the process is the great expense of
the fuel employed, in the successive heats to which the iron must be
exposed in drawing it into bars, after the processes of conversion and
the separation of impurities have been effected.

As charcoal became scarce in England, it was attempted to employ coke in
lieu of it, in the refineries. This, however, constantly failed, in
consequence of the great intensity of the heat, by which the pig was
melted suddenly instead of being exposed to the blast, long enough to
burn away the carbon. Reverberatory furnaces were next tried, and with
partial success, but a combined process has finally been introduced
which has been successful and which is called, from a part of the
operation, the method of _puddling_.

The manufacture of wrought iron, by means of bituminous coal, is
executed at three successive processes, and is facilitated by very great
improvements in the machinery. Where hammers are still used, they are
much increased in weight, and driven with greater velocity; but by far
the greater part of the operation of drawing the bars is effected by
means of rollers. The plan of these is in some measure borrowed from the
slitting mill, in which bar iron is reduced into rods and thin rolls for
various uses. These rollers are in sets, composed each of two of equal
diameter, lying in a horizontal position, and placed one vertically
above the other. Grooves corresponding to each other are cut in the two
rollers, between which the heated iron is drawn by their revolution, and
forced to assume a section that just fills up the two grooves. By
passing in succession through grooves gradually decreasing in size, any
form or magnitude may be given to the bars; and the operation is so
rapid, that the bar may be drawn from the loup at a single heat.

The first operation to which the pig iron is subjected, consists in
melting it in a fire called a finery, similar in form and character to
the bloomeries and refineries of which we have spoken, but in which the
fuel is coke. The melted metal is drawn off by tapping the furnace from
beneath, and is cast into thin plates. In this way it assumes the
characters of the white cast iron, which has been described as formed,
when the reduction of the metal is complete, a form that cannot be given
when the blast furnace in which it is made is supplied with coke. The
rapidity of the cooling is increased, by throwing water on the surface
of the plates. It thus appears, that this operation is adopted in order
to bring the cast iron into a slate that it may often assume when
manufactured by charcoal, and which cannot be given to it by coke. In
conformity with this view of the subject, it has been found, that when
wrought iron is manufactured by puddling, from American pig prepared by
charcoal, this preliminary operation is unnecessary.

The fine metal, obtained in the manner we have described, is next broken
into pieces, and subjected to heat in a reverberatory furnace. A rapid
heat is given at first to liquefy the iron, and is then diminished by
means of dampers; the melted mass is violently stirred to expose it to
the action of air and heat, by which the carbon is burnt away, and a
part of the oxides of iron and the earthy bases combined and vitrified;
as the carbon is separated, the metal gradually loses its liquidity, and
finally dries, or assumes the consistence of sand: this shows that the
carbon is separated, and the iron has assumed its malleable nature. The
addition of water aids the oxidation of the several substances, and
facilitates the process. The heat is again increased, and the metal
collected under it, and rolled together into parcels suited to the
action of the drawing machinery, and to the size of the bar that is to
be made; these are pressed together, and a partial union takes place
among their particles. When they have attained a white heat, they are
withdrawn in succession. In some cases, where the number of puddling
furnaces is great, they are immediately carried to the rollers and drawn
down. But where quality is more regarded than quantity, they are first
subjected to the action of the hammer, and finally rolled. The latter
process has the advantage of separating more completely the vitrefied
oxides, than can be done by rolling alone, but it will often require a
second heat, which is given in a forge fire called the _chaffery_. When
rollers are used alone, a minute and half is sufficient to form the bar;
and a power of thirty houses will roll two hundred tons per week.

The iron in this state is still of very inferior quality, although its
external appearance may be good. It is, notwithstanding, sometimes
thrown into the market, and this has given rise to the impression that
prevails in this country of the bad quality of English rolled iron. It
may, however, be used in some cases, where it need not be fashioned by
forging; thus, where it requires no more than to be cut into lengths, or
where the original bars will answer the purpose, its cheapness may
recommend it. Iron for rail-roads is of this quality; and the punching
of holes, by which it may be fastened down, is effected by a simple
addition of steel teeth, at proper distances, to the last groove through
which it is passed. In this form, ready to lay down, rail-road iron may
be shipped from England at the low price of 7_l._ 10_s._ sterling per
ton; and a similar quality in the simple bar may probably be afforded at
about 7_l._ We have never heard of its being sold so low as is stated in
the evidence before the Committee of Congress, say 5_l._ 5_s._ There
was, however, a period, when an excess of production, caused by a
competition between the manufacturers of Wales and Staffordshire,
entailed ruin on many of them, and their articles were sold far below
the price of production. The price which we have stated is lower than
that which has recently been paid in England for rail-road iron, and is
that of some shipped from Liverpool, 1st March, 1831, when a
considerable fall had taken place.

In order to render the iron which has undergone this process
merchantable, it is subjected to the third of the operations which we
have enumerated. For this purpose, the bars are made from three to four
inches in breadth, and half an inch in thickness. These are cut into
lengths, proportioned to the weight of the bar of finished iron that is
to be made, and piled together by fours, in a reverberatory furnace,
similar in character to the puddling furnace. Here they are exposed to a
white heat, by which the four pieces of each pile are made to adhere;
they are then withdrawn, and subjected to rollers similar to those used
after the puddling process, but of more careful workmanship. The cost of
finishing bar iron in this way, when the pig is made by the manufacturer
himself, as ascertained upon the spot by Dufrênoy and de Beaumont, is,
in Wales, 8_l._ 15_s._, in Staffordshire, 9_l._ 12_s._ The cost of
making pig iron in Wales is 4_l._ 7_s._, or about half that of the
finished bar iron, and in Staffordshire 5_l_ 2_s._

The iron prepared by the three processes of which we have spoken,
although merchantable, and suited for various common purposes, is still
far from good. We give the characters by which it is distinguished, from
the work of Karsten:--

    "The iron prepared in the English manner, appears dense and
    exempt from cracks and flaws. But this goodness is only
    apparent; the uniform pressure to which the bars are
    subjected at every point, masks their defects. If a piece of
    this kind be taken, that in its fracture appears dense and
    homogeneous, and it be heated in order to be drawn out under
    a common forge hammer, it dilates and exhibits numerous
    flaws, that sometimes increase to such a degree, that the
    bar will fall to pieces under the hammer. It is probable
    that the cause of this phenomenon is due to the scoriæ,
    which, in this mode of working, remain mixed in the mass."

The translator adds:--

    "It is not however true, that the English method of itself,
    injures the quality of iron,--experience has proved the
    contrary: it appears that soft irons lose their harshness in
    this operation, and become better for many uses."

It may therefore be inferred, that, when the English method is applied
to pig iron, that would produce a good wrought metal by the process with
charcoal, it will produce one that is equally good by means of coal, but
that the latter is capable of hiding the apparent defects of even the
worst iron.

The inferiority of the puddled iron is well understood in England, and
therefore when it is to be used for chain cables and anchors, it is
again heated, and rolled a third time, its price will be then raised to
10_l._ 10_s._ Another quality still superior, is made by uniting scraps
of the better qualities that we have mentioned, into loups in the
puddling furnace, drawing it in the puddle rolls, balling or piling, and
again rolling. Its cost will thus be raised to 12_l._ Even this is yet
inferior to Swedes and Russia iron, which sell in the English market
from 13_l._ to 15_l._ sterling per ton. For particular purposes in the
fabrication of machinery, charcoal is still used in England, in
manufacturing a very small quantity of iron, but of very superior
quality; this, we have recently understood from good authority, is sold
as high as 22_l._ per ton.

Thus it appears that the manufactories of England produce five different
descriptions of wrought iron, four of which bear a lower price, and are
therefore inferior in quality to those of Sweden and Russia, and,
consequently, to the best American iron. No more than one of these, and
that the lowest in quality, is usually shipped to this country, and it
was the influx of this cheap and almost worthless material, which in
1816 and '17, completely prostrated the American manufacture. Under a
protecting duty, it has again revived, but has not reached its former
level. New capital has been invested in it under this protection, and it
would be a breach of faith suddenly to withdraw it. Still sound policy
would dictate that this protection should not be perpetual, provided it
can be incontestably proved that it bears so hard upon other branches of
industry, as to injure the country through them to a greater extent,
than the benefit it derives from the manufacture of iron. But this is
far from being the case. The manifest and habitual policy of our
government, is to derive its revenue indirectly through the custom
house, instead of seeking it in direct taxation. When these duties
descend to a level with the minimum expenditure, they cannot be
considered burthensome, because they in fact replace revenues that must
be drawn from other sources. If, for instance, the iron employed in a
specific object, appear to cost more than in some other country, that
object may yet be afforded cheaper with us, in consequence of its maker
being free from other burthens, which the repeal of the duty on iron,
would throw upon him as a necessary substitute. If then our furnaces and
forges, when a sufficient capital shall be invested in them under a
protecting duty, can afford iron as cheap as it can be imported from
other countries, under a minimum of duty, it cannot in truth be said,
that this raw material will enhance the price of the articles
manufactured from it. Let us see whether there be any reasonable
prospect that we shall have iron produced in our own country, which will
compete with foreign iron of equal quality, paying a duty of 25 per
centum. If this be the case, the profits arising from the present
protection, must, in a few years, call forth such production as will
reduce the price to a proper level.

The best grey pig iron of American manufacture, superior in strength,
and equal in all other respects to the Scotch, is now sold in the New
York market at $45 per ton. Good grey iron of the usual character, is
worth $35 per ton, and there is no question that forge pig could be
obtained by the manufacturer of bar iron, for $25. If it were even to
cost $30, it is still cheaper than Staffordshire iron, far less fit for
the purpose, can be imported. The Muirkirk iron, so valuable for the
casting of machinery, used to cost to import it, at the present rate of
duty, $55 and $56. The Bennington furnace commenced the competition with
it at this rate, but has been compelled, after driving the Scotch iron
from the market, to sell at $45, which is as low as the foreign could be
imported at a minimum duty.

Taking the cost of forge pig at $25, the price of converting into bars
by charcoal, would be, according to the Philadelphia memorial, $18, and
the ton of wrought iron ought to cost no more than $43. We however
believe that this cost is far underrated, and that even by the aid of
rollers in a part of the process, iron of the best quality could not be
produced under $50. This is as cheap as merchantable English puddled
iron can be imported, paying 25 per cent. duty. But, even if the pig
cost $35, and the wrought iron, $60, it is still cheaper than the
English iron, worth in that market 10_l._ 10_s._ can be imported; and
the latter is the cheapest which can be obtained in that country,
suitable for the manufacture of anchors and chain-cables. At the present
moment, however, iron cannot be produced so cheaply, for the forges and
furnaces may be considered as in a great measure new, and undergoing all
the difficulties of new establishments. Capital above all is wanting,
from a want of confidence in the success of the enterprize, growing out
of a fear of the repeal of the duty, and the recollection of the former
catastrophe; and even credit, so essential where capital is deficient,
is at a low ebb. Hence, if profit be made, it rather centers in the
capitalist who makes the advances, than in the maker. Thus we have known
iron in the bloom, sold at $45 per ton; and, when finished for the
market by rolling, bring $100. The latter price, however, could not long
be maintained, and has descended to $75 and $80, which still leaves the
greater part of the profit to the capitalist.

But we are of opinion, that the manufacture of iron by charcoal is not
that to which our country should look for its final supply. It is at
best a precarious resource, and its production must diminish with the
advance of agriculture, and the consequent demand, while every increase
in the price of land must raise the cost. It is then to a total change
in the seat and mode of manufacture, that we are to be hereafter
beholden for the supply of this first necessary of civilized life. A
change will first take place in the sites of the two branches; pig iron
will continue to be manufactured by charcoal, and the bar converted by
coal. For this the great coal field of Pennsylvania will afford the
earliest facilities. No doubt can be entertained that the more freely
burning varieties of anthracite will work well in the puddling furnace,
as they have been successfully employed in the rolling and slitting of
bar iron. When the same species of coal is mixed with charcoal in the
blast furnace, it produces excellent forge pig, and thus the two species
of fuel may be advantageously united, although the coal alone will not
answer the purpose. The value of this coal in the mine and the cost of
raising it, is as yet less than that of bituminous coal in any part of
Europe, and thus we cannot avoid concluding that when it shall be
brought into use, our manufacturers might compete with the English even
if unprotected by duty. Our fields of bituminous coal are yet too
distant from dense population, and too far removed from easy
communication, to be looked to at present, but unless modes be invented
by which the anthracite coal can be used without mixture in the blast
furnace, these will become the ultimate seats of the manufacturing
industry of the United States.

But for reducing the price of iron, by competition within our country,
to a level with that of other countries, capital is required, and to
divert it to this purpose, the capitalist must feel assured that he
shall derive a certain profit from its investment, and that he shall be
subjected to no fluctuations in price and still more in demand, from a
vacillating course in the government. The establishment of works so
perfect as to compete in their manipulations with the English, is a
serious business, and till they be established in numbers, we must be
dependent on foreign countries for no small proportion of the important
article of iron that we consume. A forge for manufacturing puddled iron
cannot be profitable unless its machinery be kept in regular employ, for
the cost of that will be the same in all cases. This constant employment
cannot be given by fewer than eighteen reverberatory furnaces, and the
first cost of the works will not be less than $100,000, of which the
machinery alone costs $50,000. To supply an establishment of this
magnitude with pig, would employ three blast furnaces working with coke,
or six with charcoal, the cost of which would reach at least $120,000.
The value of the manufactured article would not fall short of a million
of dollars, and would require to carry it on a floating capital of not
less than $250,000. Thus it appears that a system of works for the
manufacture of iron, which should compete to advantage with those of
England, would find employment for a capital of half a million of
dollars, even with the advantage of credit, and the ready conversion of
its securities into cash through the banks. So long, then, as the policy
of our government is unsettled, we can hardly expect that so vast an
operation can be undertaken either by individual or by corporate funds.
A division of the business has been indeed attempted; there is more than
one puddling forge in the United States that relies upon the purchase of
pig for its supply. These unquestionably do a fair and profitable
business, but do not act to the same advantage as they would were the
two branches of the manufacture united. The chief difficulty under which
they labour is, that they must consult, in their location, convenience
in the supply of the raw material, and must therefore neglect what would
in the abstract be the most important consideration, the supply of fuel.
Thus, at least one of the puddling forges of which we have spoken, is
compelled to use imported fuel, and none are situated where alone the
nation could derive essential benefit from them, immediately over a rich
bed of coal.

It is not pretended to maintain that the present duties on iron are not
too high in general for a permanent rate, and that the distribution of
their rates is not injudicious. All that we would contend for is, that
there shall be no sudden change in the principle, by which a valuable
branch of industry would be at once destroyed beyond the possibility of
re-establishment. We have been able to discover no argument in the
blacksmith's petition, or in the report of the majority of the committee
of the Senate, in favour of an entire repeal of duty on raw iron, that
does not apply equally to the articles manufactured from it; and we
presume that those useful and respectable mechanics would think their
principles carried a step too far, should they be made to bear upon the
fabrics of their own industry. We are willing, in addition, at once to
admit that where the scale has been founded upon improper principles, it
ought to be instantly changed.

To attain the first object, as we presume it will not be contended that
iron shall ever be imported free of duty, while the nation needs a
revenue to meet its current expenditure, let a minimum be fixed beyond
which it shall not descend, and which will, evidently, when correctly
viewed, place our consumers of iron on an equal footing with those who
pay direct taxes in other countries; to this minimum, after a certain
definite period, let the duty be gradually and almost insensibly
reduced. Less than twenty-five years would probably be insufficient to
effect this without incurring a wanton waste of property. We are aware,
indeed that our national legislature can perform no act which its
successors may not annul, but a hearty concurrence on the part of Mr.
Dickerson and Mr. Hayne, representing, as they do, the two great
opposing interests in this question, would be a pledge that might be
acted upon by capitalists. The expediency of investment would then
become a subject of strict calculation, and we do not fear the result.

As to the injudicious adjustment of the scale, the higher rates of
duties fall upon articles, which under present circumstances are not
capable of being protected, except by actual prohibition. These are the
small forms of rod and round iron, hoops and sheets. The introduction of
the joint operations of puddling and rolling, has altogether changed the
manner of manufacturing these in Europe; they are now, with the
exception of sheets, made directly from the pig, by as few operations as
common bars; our own puddling forges are adopting the same method, and
so soon as they are capable of supplying the market, must drive out the
articles of these descriptions, made by those who use merchantable bar
iron, and roll it down or slit it. The slitting and rolling mills which
are conducted on this last principle, are therefore beyond the reach of
support. The inequality in the duty too, is more than the cost of
performing the additional operation upon the bar, and is hence rather
injurious than otherwise, to the interest of the producers of the raw
iron, while it bears with great severity upon those consumers who are
themselves manufacturers of hardware. The duty upon these articles
should then be adjusted so as to bear the proportion to that upon bar
iron, which their values do in the foreign market whence they are
derived.

On the other hand, there are certain articles, of which the price of the
raw material, whether cast or bar iron, forms the chief value, and which
are actually convertible to the same purposes with their base. On these,
there can be no question, that every consideration of policy and justice
requires that the duty should be raised. Several articles of this
description are enumerated by the Philadelphia memorialists, where the
fabric is of wrought iron; and it is obvious that there are others, made
at a blast furnace from the metal at its first reduction, which might be
used as a substance for pig. Such articles, however, cannot be numerous;
for iron is, after all, a material of such low price, that it can be
hardly wrought into any important species of goods, in which the value
of the workmanship will not exceed the cost of the raw article. The _ad
valorem_ duty must, therefore, in most cases, be an efficient
protection, both to the maker of iron and the manufacturer of hardware.
Where however it is not, an easy principle will restore the
irregularity; for it is only necessary to collect the duties by weight,
and affix to them the same rates which the raw iron pays.

The plan we have proposed, of continuing the present duty for a limited
time, is consistent with the policy of all civilized nations, who do not
hesitate to grant monopolies for definite periods to the inventers of
new processes in the arts, and most of whom give equal encouragement to
those who merely introduce them. Our government, indeed, has never
adopted the latter principle, but it may well be questioned whether it
have not in this way prevented the introduction of many important
branches of manufacture. The former has been adopted in its full extent,
and its utility is unquestioned. If, then, it be sound and highly
profitable policy, to grant a monopoly to individuals for limited
periods, thereby excluding our own citizens from advantages which in
most cases lie open to foreign countries, much more will it be politic
and profitable, to protect a whole class of our own artificers from
external competition for a similar period, leaving the price to be
lessened by the competition that security, from a change of system, will
infallibly create. The usual limit of a patent right having been found
efficient in drawing forth inventive talent, an equal duration of
protecting duty might be depended upon as sufficient to induce the
investment of capital in a business whose processes are understood, and
in relation to which strict calculations can be made. But these
protecting duties must not suddenly cease; for if they do, a spirit of
speculation, both on our part and on that of foreign merchants, would
infallibly throw into the market an excess of the article from abroad;
and although the importer might not be exempted wholly from the ruinous
consequence of the over trade, infallible destruction would visit our
own establishments. Such was the case in 1816 and 1817. The losses on
the iron trade were not confined to our own manufacturers, but visited
the importers, whether British or American, and reached in their remote
consequences, but with diminished effect, the forges and furnaces of
England. The latter were, however, protected by the whole capital of the
merchant, which was annihilated before the ruin could reach them, while
the American establishments were directly exposed to it. The adventurous
spirit of British commerce, in fact, produced on this occasion an effect
similar to that which the people of the continent have erroneously
ascribed to the government of that country. New markets are no sooner
opened, than loads of British fabrics are thrown in, and necessarily
sacrificed; those who see no more than their own domestic misfortunes,
naturally ascribe to the policy of the nation, what is in fact the
misjudged enterprise of rash individuals. The effect has, however, been
in many cases the same, as if the act had been the result of a
deliberate national system; for the foreign industry has been often
prostrated, while the capital of the British has enabled it to bear the
momentary shock, and then to replace its losses by the undivided
enjoyment of the disputed market.

Having proposed that the duty on imported iron, after remaining for a
limited period at its present rate, should thereafter be gradually
reduced to a minimum, it remains that we should examine at what rate
this minimum should be fixed. This we conceive may be adjusted merely as
a question of revenue. Raw iron being a material of great weight, in
proportion to its value, cannot be smuggled; it will therefore bear,
among all articles, nearly the highest rate of impost, in proportion to
its cost. This rate of duty should be calculated upon the higher
qualities of wrought and bar iron, and be applied equally to all the
different shades of each article. For a wise policy would dictate that
the import of the inferior sorts should be more impeded than that of the
best descriptions. This is analogous to the system at present sanctioned
by law, and is dictated by sound views. Fixing then the minimum duty at
about twenty-five per cent, on the value of the better qualities of the
two varieties of raw iron, it will amount to about seven and a half
dollars on the pig, and fifteen dollars on the bar. To this limit we
believe that the duty may be finally reduced, without causing injury to
our own trade, provided the present duties remain in force for fourteen
years, and be then gradually lessened to this assumed minimum.

It will be seen, that our views neither go the whole length of those of
the sticklers for either system, the _tariff_ or the _anti-tariff_,--and
we fear, that, at the moment, they will be equally objectionable to the
advocates of both. We however cannot but believe, that they are founded
upon sound and just principles. We give the fullest meed of praise to
that policy which has recalled into existence by a protecting duty, the
most important of manufactures, because the basis of all the rest. But,
we cannot see that it would be judicious to continue this duty, after it
shall have produced its whole vivifying effect. While, therefore, on the
one hand, it appears to be no more than a fulfilment of a solemn
contract, that the manufacture of iron shall be protected, we cannot
urge that that protection should continue forever; and, in relation to
the diminution of duty, we conceive that it ought to be gradual, and not
sudden. Modified in conformity with such principles, we conceive that a
"judicious tariff" might be rendered popular in all parts of the Union.

In the northern and eastern states, the tariff policy has no opponents,
except in the merchants engaged in foreign commerce; in the western
States, the opinion in favour of the present system, is almost
unanimous. The southern states, and a portion of the mercantile interest
of the north, are alone in direct opposition to protecting duties. The
agricultural interest of the north and west, seeing and feeling directly
the benefits which the establishment of manufactures confers upon it,
has given what is called the American system,--which is in principle, if
it err occasionally in detail, the sound and true policy of the
nation--its full and undivided support. We cannot but hope to see the
day arrive, when the mist raised by designing politicians, and _soi
disant_ economists, shall be dissipated, and when the southern states
will see that they are not merely indirectly, but as directly benefited
by the creation of manufacturing industry in the northern districts of
the Union, as they have been by that part of the system which has
secured them a complete monopoly of the home market for their own
products. Of all the states of the Union, Louisiana has derived the most
immediate and important advantages from protecting duties, but they have
also been shared by her neighbours; and we cannot hesitate to conclude,
that, next to Louisiana, South Carolina has been most benefited. The
cotton of India, which would have been preferred, from its low price,
for the manufacture of the coarse articles with which our factories have
in all cases commenced their business, is in fact prohibited; the
creation of the growth of sugar has occupied land and capital, which, if
applied to the culture of cotton, must have driven the whole upland
staple from the markets of the world; and, more than all, a growing
domestic demand has arisen, which foreign interference cannot controul
or diminish. In return for such advantages, it might fairly have been
expected that some burthen would fall upon the southern states, and no
doubt it might appear to be capable of plausible proof, that a portion
of the increased duties amounted to an actual tax. But this appearance
on which so much stress has been laid, is only upon paper, and does not
exist in reality, for we believe that they may be challenged, and must
fail if they attempt, to prove that the cost of the production of any
one staple has been in the slightest degree increased. We believe that
it has, on the contrary, diminished. It would lead us too far to show
how this has been the natural result: we appeal therefore to the fact
alone.

And so in respect to the clamour which it has been attempted to excite
among importing merchants, we might appeal to the growing prosperity of
that interest, as a proof that the clamour has no foundation. We however
believe that the obvious cause lies, in the latter instance, upon the
surface, and exists in the plan of credit duties, the wise conception of
the illustrious Hamilton, by which, so long as the limit at which
smuggling would be profitable, or consumption diminished, is not
reached, every addition of duty increases the effective capital, and
adds to the net profits of the importer. In illustration of this view of
the subject, we may cite the well-established fact, that most of the
great mercantile fortunes of our commercial cities, have owed their more
important increase to the judicious employment of the capital, thus in
effect loaned by the government without interest.

To use the words of the majority of the Committee of the Senate of the
United States, quoted at the head of this article:

    "Of all the metals, iron contributes most to the wealth, the
    comfort, and the improvement of society. It enters most
    largely into the consumption of all ranks and constitutions
    of men. It furnishes the mechanic with his tools, the farmer
    with the implements of his husbandry, the merchant with the
    means of fitting out his ship, and the manufacturer with the
    very instruments of his wealth and prosperity."

The wisdom of Europe draws very different conclusions, from a similar
view of the importance of iron, from those which are deduced by the
majority of the Committee of the Senate.

    "The preparation of iron has become the most essential
    branch of industry, in consequence of the immediate profit
    it produces to the masters of forges, of the general good
    that society draws from it, and of the advantages it offers
    to governments. No other occupies so many arms, produces so
    active or so constant a circulation of money, or exercises
    so direct an influence on the riches of the state and the
    ease of the people. It is therefore the particular interest
    of every government to favour it, to sustain it by the most
    efficacious measures, and to carry it to the highest degree
    of prosperity." _Karsten_--(_Introduction_.)

The measures proposed for this purpose, include bounties, the advance of
capital, and the prohibition of foreign iron. Such is the uniform
practice of by far the greater part of the nations of Europe. The
governments receive the most advantageous returns for such protection.

    "In the imposts of all kinds, that it derives directly or
    indirectly from the establishments themselves, the workmen
    employed, and the numerous _personnel_ whose existence is
    linked to that of the manufacture of iron. But that which
    ought most particularly to fix the attention of government,
    consists in the precious advantages which are derived from
    it by rural economy, by other branches of industry, and
    which it affords for internal security and external
    defence." _Karsten_.

It has been seen, that we cannot consider that measures of such extent
are required in our own country. Still, were we, as all European nations
are, in direct contact with rival or hostile powers, their necessity
would be imperative.




    ART. V.--_The Siamese Twins. A Satirical Tale of the Times,
    with other Poems, by the Author of Pelham, &c._ J. & J.
    Harper: New-York: pp. 308.


This production furnishes one of the most remarkable instances to be
found in the history of literature, of the wide difference between
notoriety and merit. No work ever came from the press whose anticipated
excellence was more loudly proclaimed, and none, we are persuaded, ever
more disappointed high-wrought expectation. That the author of Pelham
was about to favour the world with a great poetical production of a
satirical character, was announced in the different periodical works,
with all that elation and pomposity which indicated the assurance that
some important addition to the poetical literature of England, was about
to take place. Prophetic eulogy was strained to the uttermost. Public
anxiety for the appearance of the mighty work, became all that the
booksellers could wish. Every one was not only eager to read, but
prepared to admire, and impatient to praise--for the fashion of praising
this author, whether he wrote well or ill, had set in; and who in this
age of polite pretensions, would dare to be unfashionable?

Nor has the attentive author himself been deficient on this occasion, in
the fatherly duty of bespeaking public opinion in favour of his
offspring. In a preface remarkable for that startling species of modesty
by which a man becomes the trumpeter of his own greatness, he predicts
that, if not immediately, at least in eight or ten years hence, his
works will make such an impression, as to occasion a revolution in the
poetical taste of mankind, and become the model of a new school in the
"Divine Art." The confidential puffers to whom the idea was imparted, in
despite of whatever doubts they might entertain on the subject, scrupled
not to give publicity to the prediction. A work destined to such an
illustrious career, could not fail to be endowed with an exalted and
overpowering excellence of some kind, and also of a kind different
altogether from any that had hitherto given satisfaction to the readers
of poetry. The poetical tastes and habits of our nature were, in fact,
to be entirely changed by the influence of this mighty satire. No
wonder, therefore, that curiosity respecting the work was sufficiently
awakened to occasion for it a large demand on its first appearance.

Many of the conductors of the periodical press, who gave publicity to
this exaggerated strain of praise, were, no doubt, sceptical as to its
being altogether merited, and must have acted from motives either of
interest or of courtesy. Yet there may have been some who believed in
the possibility of the wonders which were predicted. Indeed, in this
strange age, when miracles are scarcely to be accounted wonders--when
ships are propelled without wind, and carriages without horses--when
schoolboys and journeymen printers overturn governments and make and
unmake kings with almost as much facility as the manager of a play-house
casts the character of a drama; what extraordinary things may not with
propriety be credited? Even philosophy may now, without reproach,
believe in absurdity; and thoughtless paragraphists, without being
laughed at, may be permitted to suppose that an adventurous rhymester
may speak truth, when he asserts that he is about to revolutionize the
principles of poetical taste and composition!

When mutation is the order of the day, why may not human nature itself
be changed? When all physical obstructions to locomotion, and all
impediments to the march of mind, are yielding to the ingenuity and
activity of man, why may not his own natural feelings and dispositions
also yield, and become changed? But hold--the author of this Siamese
satire has discovered that they have already changed! Not merely have
the opinions and pursuits of society taken a new direction, and the
habits and views of the present, become different from those of the past
generation--this would be readily admitted--but a much more important
alteration in the constitution of man, he affirms, has taken place. It
is not only the _condition_, but the _nature_ of the species that he
asserts to be changed. With the last generation, all the old impulses of
the heart--all susceptibility of love or hatred, friendship or enmity,
pity or revenge--all feelings of pride, avarice, ambition, or love of
fame--all emotions of joy, grief, anger, remorse--all generosity,
charity, desire of happiness, and self-preservation--all, all are passed
away!

"Has not a new generation," our author asks, in his odd and hardly
intelligible preface, "arisen? Has not a new impetus been given to the
age? Do not _new feelings_ require to be expressed? and are there not
new readers to be propitiated, who sharing _but in a feeble degree the
former enthusiasm_, will turn, not with languid attention, to the claims
of fresh aspirants."

These are some of the changes which have brought about, as he
imagines--the circumstances that call for the new and "_less_
enthusiastic" school of poetry, which, founded by him, is to secure the
admiration of at least part of the present, and the whole of the ensuing
generation. "A poet," he says, "who aspires to reputation, must be
adapted to the coming age, not rooted to that which is already gliding
away." He admits that "the worn out sentiments, the affectations and the
weaknesses of our departed bards, may, by the elder part of the
community, be still considered components of a deep philosophy, or the
signs of a superior mind." But, for this unfortunate circumstance, which
militates so much against the immediate success of his new school, he
consoles himself with the persuasion that "the _young_ have formed a
nobler estimate of life, and a habit of reasoning, at once founded upon
a homelier sense, and yet aspiring to more elevated conclusions."

What this, as well as many other equally awkward sentences in this
presumptuous preface, exactly means, it is not easy to say. Our sons, on
whose admiration of his poetry, Mr. Bulwer depends for the success of
his new system, are, in order to qualify themselves for relishing its
beauties, to form a _nobler_ estimate than we entertain of life, while
their habits of reasoning are to be founded on a _homelier_ sense; and
yet, homely as they are to be in their reasoning, they are to aspire to
_more elevated_ conclusions! If, indeed, such inconsistencies are to
characterize our sons; if their intellects are to be so utterly confused
and perplexed as is here predicted, they may possibly become admirers of
the new school, of which the redoubtable satire before us is to be the
origin. But we hope better things of our posterity. We cannot think that
their natural feelings will vary so very far from our own, as to induce
them to prefer insipid verbosity and unintelligible doggerel, to the
animating strains of genuine poetry, or the sprightly wit and stinging
ridicule of true satire.

Since the work which was to perform such miracles has appeared, and has
been found so egregiously to disappoint expectation, why do those who
puffed it on trust, still continue to extol it? The expression of their
favourable anticipations might be excused; for they may have believed
all that they asserted. But their eyes must now be open. The most
prejudiced, on perusing the work, must be convinced of its imbecility as
a satire, and its insipidity as a poem. Why, then, persist in error?
Complaisance to the prevailing fashion, and a desire to swim with the
current, may be the feelings which generally prompt to such conduct. But
they are poor apologies for wilfully deceiving the public in a matter so
essential to the interests of poetical literature. The critic who
knowingly recommends an undeserving poem, ought to be aware that he is
contributing to destroy the public confidence in all new poetry; for
when men find that tame and uninteresting works are so freely
recommended, they very naturally conclude that the times produce none
others worthy of recommendation.

We should think, indeed, that experience had, by this time, taught the
world the little reliance which ought to be placed generally on
contemporary criticism, particularly that description of it usually
found in newspapers. But the wide diffusion of this species of
periodical work, gives them an influence which no experience, however
palpable, of their erroneous judgments in literary matters, has yet been
able to counteract. The public, in truth, has hitherto had its attention
but little drawn towards this subject. The fate of a new book seems to
be a matter so uninteresting to any but the author and the publisher,
that whether editors speak of it favourably or unfavourably, or pass
over it with entire neglect, is considered of no importance. It is
forgotten that _good_ literature forms the chief and most permanent
glory of a country; that its prosperity is, therefore, of much national
value, and ought, for the public benefit, to be assiduously promoted.
But the chance of good literature being properly encouraged, will be
ever extremely small, so long as worthless productions are forced into
even temporary eclat, by those ready and often glowing commendations of
careless editors, which must always, more or less, give direction to
public patronage.

There is an erroneous opinion, unfortunately too prevalent among all
classes, that no book can become generally noticed and much praised in
the periodical works, but in consequence of its merit. To those who hold
this opinion, the system of reverberating praise from one journal to
another, must be unknown. In this country this system is, at present,
carried to a great extent. It is chiefly produced by indolence or want
of leisure, preventing our editors from carefully reading and judging
for themselves, aided by a desire which actuates many of them to be
thought fashionable in their opinions. The literary idol of the day is
generally set up in the English metropolis. Of course, the fashion of
worshipping him commences there. We soon hear of him on this side of the
ocean. We wait not to examine whether he be entitled to homage. We take
that for granted, since we are told that he is considered so in London.
With slavish obsequiousness, we hasten to follow the capricious example
of the great metropolis, and shout pæans for the fashionable idol, with
as much zeal as if we really discerned in his works merit sufficiently
exalted to entitle him to such applause, although the probability is,
that, while we are bestowing it, we have scarcely glanced over his
productions.

Now all this is, on our parts, exceedingly ridiculous and irrational. It
not only exposes our servility, but it betrays our ignorance of many of
the temporary excitements in favour of certain authors and their works,
which take place in London. It shows that we are not aware of the fact,
that, in the majority of cases, the rage for a new book, is owing to
circumstances not at all connected with its merit. An influential and
enterprising publisher,--a striking or a popular subject,--a sounding
title,--a bold,--a wealthy or an eccentric author,--and, above all, a
continued series of well-managed puffs, invariably do much more towards
making a new book fashionable, than any excellence it may possess; and
the inducement to purchase it is more frequently the knowledge that it
is fashionable, than the conviction that it is good. Hence, it is to
their title-pages, rather than to their nature or quality, that new
books are mostly indebted for their immediate success. Their permanent
success--that is, their enduring fame--is another matter. Merit, and
merit only, can secure that; for it is the result of the cool and
deliberate approbation which is awarded by the judgment of mankind, when
the adventitious circumstances which first excited attention towards the
book, have passed away, and can operate no longer on curiosity. The
history of literature amply proves this. Books have often had, for a
time, great mercantile value, and been highly profitable to the
booksellers, that have been utterly worthless in a literary point of
view. Of this fact the book-dealers are so well aware, that, rather than
risk the expense of publishing the most beautiful composition of an
unknown author, they will pay largely for manuscripts of the merest
trash, from the pen of one to whom some lucky accident has already drawn
public attention. Many of our well-meaning echoers of the London puffs
of new books, are certainly ignorant of this circumstance, or they would
not lend their aid to give circulation and temporary repute to much of
the vile literature, which, under the names of novels, poems, travels,
&c. the press of London has so largely poured forth, during the last
eight or ten years, to the great deterioration not only of the literary
taste, but of the manners and morals of the age.

It is indeed a sad mistake to suppose, that nothing but the literary
excellence of a new book, renders it saleable. Yet it is a mistake so
very general, that the booksellers find that the most effectual mode of
recommending a new work, is, to allege that it _sells_ rapidly. Who does
not know, when a book with the reputation of being in great demand,
comes amongst us, the eagerness with which it is sought after? No matter
how dull it may be, while it is considered saleable, it is perused with
delight. A thousand beauties are discovered in it, which cool and
unprepossessed judgment could never discern; and, as to faults, although
they should stare the deluded reader in the face, as thickly and visibly
as trees in a forest, he will doubt the accuracy of his own sensations,
rather than admit that he perceives them. Such, over weak minds, is the
magic influence of a fashionable name,--nay, such is the influence, when
the name is only _supposed_ to be fashionable.

That the work before us would sell well, at least for a season, let its
poetry be ever so bad, was to be expected, from the circumstances under
which it appeared. Its publishers, Colburn and Bentley, are now the most
fashionable in London, and are considered to possess more influence over
the periodical works, than even the magnificent Murray; its author is a
man of bustle, boldness, and notoriety, who has acquired considerable
repute as the writer of three or four novels, which got into extensive
circulation by professing, however untruly, to give genuine and
unsparing delineations of fashionable life. To speak technically, _his
name was up_; and, by the aid of this lucky elevation, his active
publishers could not fail to dispose of an edition or two of his satire,
in despite of its worthlessness as a literary performance.

We have thus, we imagine, satisfactorily shown that it is possible for a
work to be, for a time, noted, saleable and fashionable, without
possessing any great share of literary merit. We may, therefore, be
allowed to deny, that the present demand for this poem, which, we
believe, will be of but brief continuance, is any evidence of its
deserving that unlimited homage which its author claims for it. That it
will ever effect the great poetical revolution which he so modestly
anticipates, we imagine that, by this time, few are more inclined to
believe, than ourselves. From its appearance, therefore, we feel no
alarm for the stability of that reputation which our favourite bards
have gained by those immortal works, to whose noble and animating
strains, the hearts of millions have so often responded!

But, it is time that we should enter into some examination of the
character of this work, and show our reasons for the disapprobation of
it as a poem and a satire, which we have so freely expressed.

It will be admitted, we presume, that, when an author does not succeed
in accomplishing his design, his work is a failure. The design of the
author of this poem was, as we are informed by the title-page, to write
a satire, has he done so? Those who are loudest in commendation of the
poem, have acknowledged its satirical portions to be feeble, and without
point. But they contend that it contains a sufficiency of good poetry of
another description, to atone for this defect. We confess that we have
not been fortunate enough, after a careful perusal, to discover this
redeeming poetry. Whether it be of the sentimental, descriptive, or
ethical species, we therefore cannot tell. Perhaps it is an ingenious
mingling of them in one mass, in which the beauties of each, conceal
those of the others from view? If so, how many disinterested readers
will submit to the trouble of extricating them from the confusion in
which they lie, so as to see them distinctly, and become fully aware of
their _latent_ splendour? We attempted, as in duty bound, to hunt for
these gems. We discovered a few that sparkled a little,--but they were
indeed so few, and their lustre so faint, that we could not consider
them worth the labour of exploring one moiety of the abundance of
rubbish in which they are buried. We believe that the generality of
readers will be equally disappointed; and that the book will be almost
invariably laid down with a feeling that it is tedious, awkward, and
dull,--in short, in respect to its _poetical_ as well as its satirical
character, a failure without redemption.

But the author calls it a satire. It is therefore as a satire, that it
ought to be judged. In our opinion, it is no more a satire than a
sermon; nay, we have read sermons in which the satiric thong is wielded
with much more effect against wickedness and folly, than in this
production. We need not enter into a philological explanation of the
term satire,--the word is common enough, and we presume that every
reader who understands plain English, knows its meaning. To render vice
disgusting, and folly ridiculous, is the legitimate office of the
satirist. Sarcasm and wit are his most usual and effectual weapons.
Ridicule and reprobation are also used; the former when the intention is
to excite derision, and the latter when the arousing of indignation is
the object. The great aim of the satirist ought always to be the
reformation of depraved morals, corrupt institutions, absurd customs, or
offensive manners. The contemporary prevalence of such, is what excites
his indignation, or provokes his ridicule; and, if he possesses power
and dexterity to apply the lash, he performs a real service to society,
and acquires a deserved and enviable name among the useful and agreeable
writers of the day.

Has Mr. Bulwer applied the lash in this manner? Against what vice does
he awaken the indignation of his readers, or what folly does he expose
to their contempt? We ask for information, for we have not, with our
best efforts, been able ourselves to make the discovery. It is true,
that, in the perusal of his work, we met with some awkward attempts to
be witty at the expense of Basil Hall, the Duke of Wellington, Thomas
Moore, Joseph Hume, and two or three others of the conspicuous
characters of the times. But, if satire never launches keener arrows
against these men, than are to be found in this book, we fear that,
whatever may be their faults or foibles, no dread of her power will
induce them to reform. The only feelings they can experience from the
harmless missiles of Mr. Bulwer, are pity for his vanity, and contempt
for his weakness.

There is but one passage in this long poem which contains upwards of
eight thousand lines, that deserves to be called satirical. It is in
relation to the missionary Hodges. In this some tolerable _hits_ are
made at the union of selfishness and prejudice which too frequently
characterize the religious missionaries of all sects, who are employed
by the zeal of the wealthy and pious at home, to convert to Christianity
the heathen inhabitants of foreign countries. The missionary in
question, who is the only character in the work drawn with any power of
dramatic conception, is represented as haranguing the people of Siam on
the inferiority of their institutions to those of England, (in which, by
the by, neither Americans nor Englishmen will be apt to discover much
satire,) and threatening, in language as coarse as that of the canting
Maworm, to reform them, whether they will or not, from the evil ways of
their ancestors. We shall quote part of the passage, and as it is
unquestionably the cleverest satirical portion of the whole poem, the
friends of Mr. Bulwer cannot accuse us of doing him injustice by the
selection.--

    "Accordingly our saint one day,
    Into the market took his way,
    Climbed on an empty tub, that o'er
      Their heads he might declaim at ease,
    And to the rout began to roar
      In wretched Siamese.
    'Brethren! (for every one's my fellow,
    Tho' I am white, and you are yellow,)
    Brethren! I came from lands afar
    To tell you all--what fools you are!
    Is slavery, pray, so soft, and glib a tie,
    That you prefer the chain to liberty?
    Is Christian faith a melancholy tree,
    That you will only sow idolatry?
    Just see to what good laws can bring lands,
    And hear an outline of old England's.
    Now, say if _here_ a lord should hurt you,
    Are you made whole by legal virtue?
    For ills by battery or detraction,
    Say, can you bring at once your action?
    And are the rich not much more sure
    To gain a verdict than the poor?
    With us alike the poor or rich,
    Peasant or prince, no matter which--
    Justice to all the law dispenses,
    And all it costs--are the expenses!
    _Here_ if an elephant you slay,
    Your very lives the forfeit pay:
    Now that's a _quid pro quo_--too seri-
    Ous much for beasts _naturæ feræ_.

           *     *     *     *     *
           *     *     *     *     *

    _These_ are the thing's that best distinguish men--
    These make the glorious boast of Englishmen!
    More could I tell you were there leisure,
    But I have said enough to please, sure:
    Now then if you the resolution
    Take for a British constitution,
    A British king, church, commons, peers--
    I'll be your guide! dismiss your fears.
    With Hampden's name and memory warm you!
    And, d--n you all--but I'll reform you!
    As for the dogs that wont be free,
    We'll give it them most handsomely;
    To church with scourge and halter lead 'em,
    And thrash the rascals into freedom."

This fine speech, it appears, had much the same effect on its auditors,
that we believe Mr. Bulwer's poem will have on nine-tenths of his
readers;--it produced a sensation of disdain for the understanding as
well as the principles of its author. Under the influence of this
feeling, the men of Siam could not forbear executing a practical joke on
the orator. They elevated him in a palanquin, raised by means of tall
poles, to a great height above their heads; from which altitude, after
parading him in mock triumph through the streets of their chief city,
they, with little regard to consequences, tossed him into the air. The
poem says--

    "So high he went, with such celerity,
    It seemed as for some god-like merit he
    Carried from earth, like great Alcides,
    To Jupiter's ambrosial side is.
    But, oh! as maiden speakers break
    Ev'n so, (while fearing to be crushed
    Each idler from beneath him dodges),
    Swift, heavy--like an avalanche--rushed
      To earth the astonished form of Hodges.
    He lay so flat, he lay so still,
    He seemed beyond all farther ill.
    They pinched his side, they shook his head,
    And then they cried, 'The man is dead!'
    On this, each felt no pleasing chill;
      For ev'n among the Bancockeans,
    A gentleman for fun to kill,
      Is mostly punished--in plebeians.
    They stare--look serious--mutter--cough--
    And then, without delay, sneak off;
    Nor at a house for succour knocked, or
    Thought once of sending for the doctor."

The twins, Chang and Ching, remain behind, and taking pity on the
maltreated missionary, convey him to their father's house, which was
convenient. Here he is treated with kindness, and soon recovers of the
contusions and a broken leg, occasioned by his fall.

A notable scheme now seized the fertile brain of the money loving
missionary. The _lusus naturæ_ which connected the bodies of the twins,
he conceived would render their exhibition profitable in England. He
obtained the consent of their father to carry them to Europe, by
stipulating to allow them one-half of the earnings of their exhibition.
The acquiescence of the youths themselves he easily procured by
inflaming their curiosity to witness the glory and happiness of England,
which he described in the most glowing terms of national panegyric.

The twins, however, resolved to consult one of the magicians of the
country relative to the result of their intended enterprise, before they
should commit themselves to the care of an absolute stranger who was to
convey them so far from home. The account of this consultation--the
temple of the magician--his manner of consulting the fates, and the
mystical style of his addressing the twins, form by much the most
fanciful and readable portion of the book, and would certainly entitle
the author to some credit for wild and weird conceptions, were it not
for the unfortunate circumstance, that the whole is a palpable imitation
of the celebrated incantation scene in Der Freischutz. It is also
infested with the besetting sin of the whole poem, prolixity. Mr. Bulwer
too plainly shows in this work, that he is a bookmaker by profession,
and if the faculty of hammering a given number of ideas into as many
words as possible, be a useful branch of the craft, it is one in which
he has assuredly few competitors.

The arrival of Hodges and the twins in London, is at length announced in
the newspapers, and then begins what the author unquestionably intended
should be the principal business of the poem--namely, the quizzing of
London life and manners--or to use his own phrase, satirizing the times.
The idea of bringing Oriental strangers to Europe in order to exhibit
their surprise at witnessing customs and manners totally different from
those of their own country, is rather stale, and the humour of it, if
there be any humour in it, has been exhausted by much finer writers than
Mr. Bulwer has as yet shown himself to be. Various essayists, both of
France and England, have had recourse to this method of exposing the
vices and absurdities of their respective countries. Turkish spies,
Persian envoys, and Chinese philosophers, have all been brought into
requisition for this purpose. No novelty, therefore, can be claimed for
the employment of our Siamese adventurers on such trodden ground. It is,
indeed, sufficiently apparent, that the idea of making them a vehicle
for satire upon the English, was suggested by Goldsmith's Citizen of the
World. To try his strength with such a writer as Goldsmith, especially
in the walks of satire, was at least courageous on the part of Bulwer;
and if any circumstance could, in our estimation, atone for his woful
failure, it would be the hardihood which induced him to make the
attempt. We believe no reader ever became wearied of perusing
Goldsmith's Citizen of the World. But how any reader can toil through
this Siamese production, without becoming exhausted, we own is beyond
our comprehension.

In London, the twins meet with various adventures, which, no doubt, the
author intended should be extremely amusing to the reader. To us they
appear extremely jejune and silly. For instance, Lady Jersey sends one
of them a ticket of admission to Almacks, without recollecting to pay
the same compliment to the other. On appearing for entrance, the
door-keeper refuses to admit him who had been neglected. This obstacle,
of course, prevents the other from availing himself of his right to
enter. Lady Cowper, however, very soon sets all right by furnishing them
with another ticket. Now what there is either facetious or satirical in
this, we confess we cannot conceive. Equally silly is the incident of
the one brother being seized by a recruiting sergeant who had enlisted
him, while the other is arrested by a bailiff for debt. But as the
brothers cannot be separated, they get clear, the recruiting officer not
daring to carry off Ching who had not enlisted, and the bailiff being
equally afraid of the consequence of imprisoning Chang against whom he
had no writ--an old joke.

Now such bungling inventions appear to us insufferable. In the first
place, there is no emotion whatever, either of surprise, merriment, or
pity, awakened by the narrative, and in the next, the occurrences are so
contrary to all probability, that even poetical license, in its fullest
range, will not sanction their introduction. The deformity of the twins
would render either of them ineligible to be enlisted. The bailiff's
writ might, it is true, authorize the arrest of one only; but even that
is inconsistent with the statement previously made that their earnings
and expenses were all in common. We should suppose, therefore, that no
creditor would make such an invidious distinction between partners so
closely connected. These inconsistencies, however, might be pardoned, if
the stories were told with sufficient sprightliness and vigour to make
them interesting. But when an ill-contrived tale is drowsily told, the
reader must possess an immense fund of good nature not to scold the
author in his heart.

We shall pass over the rest of these dull adventures, which rebuke no
vice, and satirize no folly, and shall give a very brief outline of the
remainder of the poem. The brothers, unlike the real twins from whom the
title of the poem is borrowed, are represented as of entirely different
characters. Chang's disposition is grave, contemplative, and
sentimental, while Ching is light-hearted, gay, and volatile. Their
protector, Hodges, has a handsome daughter, with whom the meditative
Chang falls in love; but, without any apparent cause, he imagines that
she has given her heart to Ching. He becomes exceedingly jealous, and
absurdly enough, considering the nature of their connexion, meditates
the murder of his brother. He however discovers his mistake in time to
prevent the deed, and feels a reasonable share of remorse. In the
meantime, Mary, the lady in question, who commiserates their condition,
contrives, while they are asleep, to introduce a surgeon and his
assistant, who successfully cut through the connecting bond of flesh,
and, to the great joy of Chang, who had long felt much mortification at
the unnatural union, they are separated. Chang now cherishes strong
hopes of becoming acceptable to Mary, which are destined soon to be
blasted for ever. By an incident which detracts much from the
sentimental dignity with which he has been hitherto invested, for it
represents him as an eavesdropper, he discovers that she is irrevocably
engaged to her cousin, who is called Julian Laneham. This discovery
arouses him to a certain fit of magnanimity. He understands that Mary's
father objects to her union with Laneham, on account of the young man's
poverty. He suddenly disappears; and four days afterwards, two letters
are received, one by Hodges, and one by Ching, which, as the author
says, "shows the last _dénouement_ of the story." The public curiosity
had rendered the brothers rich; and in his letter to Hodges, Chang
generously bestows on him his share of their property, on condition that
he will give his daughter to Laneham.

The old gentlemen agrees to the compact; and if the reader should have
patience enough to carry him so far through the book, he will, towards
its conclusion, be rewarded with a marriage, according to the old
established laws of romance writing. Why did Mr. Bulwer so far forget
the "originality of matter and of manner," in other words, the new
school of poetry, which he promised us in the preface, as to put us off
with so trite a conclusion?

In a passage towards the close of the poem, the indomitable egotism of
our author appears, in a curious allusion which he makes to the failure
of his efforts to become a member of parliament at the last general
election. His hero Laneham, for he is the true hero of the work, had
been a more successful candidate for the people's favour. The poet says,
without jealousy, we presume,--

    "Moreover in the late election
    He won a certain Burgh's affection.
    Dined--drank--made love to wife and daughter,
    Poured ale and money forth like water,
    And won St. Stephen's Hall to hear
    This parliament _may_ last a year!
    The sire's delight you'll fancy fully--
    He thinks he sees a second Tully;
    And gravely says he will dispense
      With Fox's force and Brinsley's wit,
    So that our member boast the sense
      Of that great statesmen--Pilot Pitt!
    For me, my hope lies somewhat deeper;
    We'll now, they say, be governed _cheaper!_
    So Julian, pour your wrath on robbing,
    And keep a careful eye on jobbing.
    If you should waver in your choice
    To whom to pledge your vote and voice,
    You'll waver only, we presume,
    Between an Althorpe and a Hume.
    But mind--ONE vote--o'er all you hold,
    And let the BALLOT conquer GOLD.
    Don't utterly forget those asses,--
    Ridden so long,--the lower classes;
    But waking from sublimer _visions_,
    Just see, poor things! to their _provisions_.
    Let them for cheap bread be your debtor,
    Cheap justice, too--that's almost better.
    And though not bound to either College,
    Don't clap a turnpike on their knowledge.

           *     *     *     *     *

    And ne'er forget this simple rule, boy,
    Time is an everlasting schoolboy,
    And as his trowsers he outgoes,
    Be decent, nor begrudge him clothes.

           *     *     *     *     *

    In these advices towards your policy,
    Many, dear Julian, will but folly see;
    Yet what I preach to you to act is
    But what _had been your author's practice_,
    Had the mercurial star that beams
    Upon elections blessed his dreams,
    Had--but we ripen with delay,
    And every dog shall have his day!"

From the last couplet, it appears, that our author has not yet
relinquished his expectations of being gratified with a seat in St.
Stephens.

In the following concluding lines, which succeed those we have just
quoted, the Twins are finally disposed of. We insert them here as a
notable instance of long efforts to kindle a blaze, at last dying away
in the suffocation of their own smoke.--

    "And Ching?--poor fellow!--Ching can never
      His former spirits quite recover;
    Yet he's agreeable as ever,
      And plays the C----k as a lover.
    In every place he's vastly _fêted_,
      His name's in every lady's book;
    And as a wit I hear he's rated
      Between the Rogers's and Hook.

    But Chang?--of him was known no more,
    Since, Corsair like, he left the shore.
    Wrapped round his fate the cloud unbroken,
    Will yield our guess nor clew nor token.
    He runs unseen his lonely race,
      And if the mystery e'er unravels
    The web around the wanderer's trace--
      I fear we scarce could print his travels.
    Since tourists every where have flocked,
    The market's rather overstocked--
    And so we leave the lands that need 'em
      Throughout this 'dark terrestrial ball,'
    To be well visited by freedom,--
      And slightly nibbled at by Hall!"




    ART. VI.--_Europe and America; or, the relative state of the
    Civilized World at a future period. Translated from the
    German of_ Dr. C. F. VON SCHMIDT-PHISELDEK, _Doctor of
    Philosophy, one of his Danish Majesty's Counsellors of
    State, Knight of Dannebrog, &c. &c._ By JOSEPH OWEN.
    Copenhagen: 1820.


Although the translator of this book professes in his Preface to have
been principally induced to undertake the task by "the desire of being
the humble instrument of imparting to the American nation, that picture
of future grandeur and happiness, which the author so prophetically
holds out to them," we believe it is but little known among the readers
of this country. Yet it is in every respect a very interesting and
curious work. It will be seen by the title-page, that it was not only
translated into, but printed in English, at Copenhagen, with the view of
disseminating a knowledge of its contents among the people of the United
States. Yet we do not recollect that it was noticed at the time of its
publication in any of our critical journals, and the only copy that has
ever fallen under our notice is that now before us, which has been in
our possession many years. Nevertheless, it is the work of a man of very
extensive views, and of deep sagacity. His speculations on the state of
the different kingdoms of Europe, in relation to the past and the
present, seem to us equally just and profound; and the predictions which
ten years ago the author announced to the world, are every day, nay,
almost every hour, becoming matters of history.

It has been said, and said reproachfully, that the people of the United
States are somewhat boastful and presumptuous. One reason doubtless is,
that they have had to bear up on one hand against much obloquy and
injustice, and on the other against certain airs of affected superiority
on the part of the nations of Europe, equally offensive. Those who are
perpetually assailed, are perpetually called upon to defend themselves;
and what in other cases would be an offensive pretension, is, in ours,
simply self-defence. It is not boasting, but a manly assertion of what
is due to ourselves, in reply to those who take from us what is our
right. But even if the charge of national pride were true, we are among
those who rather approve than lament it. National pride is a commendable
and manly feeling; it is the parent of virtue and greatness--the
foundation of a noble character; and if the nation which has led the way
in the bright path of freedom--which, young as it is, has become already
the beacon, the example, the patriarch of the struggling nations of the
world--has not a fair right to be proud, we know not on what basis
national pride ought to erect itself.

For these reasons, we feel no hesitation in calling the attention of the
people of the United States, to a work eminently calculated to awaken
the most lofty anticipations of the destiny which awaits them. Nothing
but good can come of such contemplations of the future. They will serve
to impress upon the nation the necessity of being prepared for such high
destiny; of fitting herself to maintain it with honour and dignity; of
attaching herself, heart and hand, body and soul, to that sacred union
of opinions, interests, and reflections, which alone can lead us
steadily onward in the path of prosperity, happiness, and glory.

    "The 4th of July in the year 1776," observes Dr. Von
    Schmidt, "points out the commencement of a new period in the
    history of the world. Not provoked to resistance by the
    intolerable oppression of tyrannical power, but merely
    roused by the arbitrary encroachments upon well earned, and
    hitherto publicly acknowledged principles, the people of the
    United States of North America declared themselves on that
    memorable day independent of the dominion of the British
    Islands, generally speaking mild and benevolent in itself,
    and under which they had hitherto stood as colonies, in a
    state, not of slavish servitude, but of partial
    guardianship, under the protection of the mother country."

The author has here marked the nice and peculiar feature which
distinguishes the American Revolution from all others, and confers on it
a degree of philosophical dignity. It was not a ferment arising from
momentary impatience of existing and operating hardships; nor the result
of extensive distresses pressing upon a large mass of the nation. When
the people of the United Colonies rose in resistance to the mother
country, they were in possession of a greater portion of all the useful
means of happiness, than the mother country itself. It was not therefore
a revolution originating in the belly, but the head; it was a revolution
brought about by principles, not by distresses. The early emigrants to
the new world, brought these principles with them from England;--every
year added to their strength, and every accession of strength, brought
the crisis nearer to maturity. The annals of each one of the colonies,
exhibit every where evidence of the existence of this leaven of freedom,
which was perpetually rising and agitating the surface; and, although
like the eruption of a volcano, it broke forth at first in one
particular spot, it was only from accidental causes. The whole interior
was equally in a ferment, and the boiling mass must have forced a vent
somewhere, and soon. It had long been evident, that, wherever the
pressure should be greatest, there would be the point of resistance.

That the American revolution, though unquestionably precipitated, was
not produced by a sudden excitement originating in any particular
measure of the British government, we think must appear to all those who
read with attention the early records of our colonial history. As long
ago as the year 1635, representations were made to the government of
England, touching the disloyalty of the people of Massachusetts.

    "The Archbishop of Canterbury," says Hutchinson, "the famous
    High Churchman Laud, kept a jealous eye over New England.
    One Burdett of Piscataqua, was his correspondent. A copy of
    a letter to the Archbishop, wrote by Burdett, was found in
    his study, and to this effect: 'That he delayed going to
    England, that he might freely inform himself of the state of
    the place as to _allegiance_, for it was not new discipline
    which was aimed at, but _sovereignty_; and that it was
    accounted perjury and treason in their general court, to
    speak of appeals to the king.'"[4]

But to return to the immediate subject before us. Dr. Von
Schmidt-Phiseldek, after stating the result of this declaration in the
establishment of our independence, proceeds to notice the second war
between the United States and England, in which the former successfully
maintained the positions she had assumed, as the grounds of hostility:--

    "By these occurrences," he says, "which we have only
    cursorily touched upon, the North American confederacy had
    tried her strength, preserved her dignity by the rejection
    of illegal pretensions, and vigorously proved and maintained
    her right as an active member in the scale of nations, to
    take part in the grand affairs of the civilized world. _From
    that moment, the impulse to a new change of events, ceased
    to proceed exclusively from the old continent, and it is
    possible that in a short time it will emanate from the new
    one._"

The author then proceeds to deduce the attempts of the South American
Provinces, which, however, at that period, had not been consummated,
from the example of North America, which had inspired them with the
desire of emancipation:--

    "This word, as intimating the resistance of a people feeling
    themselves at maturity, to their wonted tutelage, and
    desirous of taking upon themselves the management of their
    own affairs, most suitably expresses the spirit of the
    times, _which, being called to light in 1776, has spread
    itself over the new and old world_."

Having indicated his belief, that the South American States will acquire
independence, Dr. Von Schmidt-Phiseldck gives it as his opinion, "that
the similitude of their constitutional forms, and an equal interest in
rejecting the European powers, will unite these new states in a close
compact with the North American confederacy; and, if a quarter of a
century only elapsed before North America began to act externally with
vigour, it may be presumed that the younger states of the Southern
Continent, endowed with more ample resources, and more ancient culture,
will require a shorter period to arrive at a state of respectable
force."

Having traced a rapid sketch of the situation and prospects of the new
world, the author next turns his attention to the old governments of
Europe, of which he gives a masterly analysis:--

    "The new spirit which had been called to life on the other
    side of the Atlantic, and the universal fermentation it
    caused, happened at a period in which the most excessive
    laxity reigned predominant on the old continent. The
    political existence of the people was for the most part
    extinguished; their active industry had been directed
    abroad, and the governments finding no opposition or
    dangerous collisions internally, followed with the stream.
    Commerce, exportations, colonial systems, every means of
    acquiring money, were cherished and protected,--riches
    presenting the only possibility of investing the low with
    consideration and influence, and the high with power and
    inordinate dominion. The maxims by which the nations were
    governed, lay less in the ground pillars of an existing
    constitution, than in the changeable systems of the
    cabinets, and the character of their rulers; there remained,
    for the most part, nothing for the great body of the people,
    but to be spectators.

    "Germany, the grand heart of Europe, presented now nothing
    more than the shadow of a political body united in one
    common confederacy; the imperial governments, as also the
    administration of the federal laws, were without energy, and
    united efforts to repel invasions from abroad, had not been
    witnessed since the fear of Turkish power had ceased to
    operate. The larger states had outgrown their obedience, and
    often ranged themselves in opposition to the head, which was
    scarcely able to protect either itself or the weaker states
    against injuries.

    "The internal affairs of the individual vassal states, were
    exclusively conducted according to the will of their
    regents; the energy and importance of the representative
    popular states, were become dormant, and the standing armies
    which had been introduced by degrees even into the smallest
    principalities, since the peace of Westphalia, being
    perfectly foreign to the hearts and dispositions of the
    people, threw an astonishing weight into the scale of
    unlimited sovereignty. Being mercenary soldiers recruited
    from every nation, modelled upon a system of subordination,
    and raised by Frederick of Prussia to the highest pitch of
    perfection, they had been accomplices in diffusing this
    system of despotism over all the relations of the state,
    _and in leaving the people who were freed from military
    services, nothing but the acquisition of gain_.

    "Agriculture, agreeably to the direction given it, had been
    improved, and with a population increased; industry
    supported by the progress of the mechanical arts, had also
    been considerably extended. But each separate state had its
    own little jealous feelings of aggrandisement, its own petty
    internal policy, viewing its neighbour with a jealous eye;
    and the whole of Germany never reaped any beneficial result
    from a system, which, had it been general, would have
    conduced highly to the wealth and power of the confederated
    states, of which it was composed. All these various
    institutions, at the same time that they conflicted with
    each other, were reared on loose foundations, and it was
    evident must fall together, on the first external
    shock,--circumstances like these were incapable of producing
    an universal national character. There, where no reciprocal
    tie binds the individuals of a state together, who, living
    under the equal laws of one community, ought to form one
    solid whole, the spirit of the nation loses itself in
    different directions; the attainment of individual welfare
    is possible in such a state of things, but never will a
    sense of what is universally good and great, be promoted.

    "If in Germany," proceeds the author, "where the imperial
    crown represented a mere shadow, deprived of power and
    consequence, the mighty vassals were all; in France the
    crown was every thing, after it had subdued the powerful
    barons of the country. The people represented, indeed, one
    body, but were deprived, like the several German states, of
    all political weight, and were arbitrarily subjected to
    every impulse of the government. The same was the case with
    Spain and Portugal, where religious intolerance more
    powerfully suppressed every utterance of contrary opinions,
    and every doctrine which might lead to a deviation from the
    maxims of the state, so intimately connected with those of
    the priesthood. The latter, chained since Methuen's
    celebrated treaty, to the monopoly of England from which it
    had vainly attempted to free itself under Pombal's
    administration, was nearly sunk to the condition of a
    British colony working its gold mines in the Brazils for the
    benefit of the proud islanders.

    "Italy, parcelled out amongst different powers, presented
    upon the whole, the same political aspect as Germany, only
    with this difference, that it was totally divested of the
    shadow of unity, which the latter at least appeared to
    present. Upper, and a great part of middle Italy, being
    dismembered, were entirely subservient to foreign impulse.
    The lower part, with the fertile island on the other side of
    the Pharos, presented, to be sure, since 1735, the outward
    appearance of one national whole, but was too weak to
    withstand the fate of the more powerful Bourbon families,
    from which, according to treaties, it had derived its
    sovereigns. There reigned in the papal state alone, which
    could not derive its weight from its worldly sovereignty,
    but from the spiritual supremacy of its ruler, the ancient
    maxims of the Romish pontificate, with the economical state
    faults of a clerical government. But the consideration and
    the power of the former were visibly sunk; the journeys of
    the pope of that period to Vienna, were like the
    contemporary ones of the Hierarch of Thibet to China, rather
    prejudicial, than favourable to spiritual dignity; and the
    faulty internal administration of the state seemed to invite
    every attempt at innovation. The republics on the east and
    the west of the Adriatic Gulf, were, since the rise of the
    other great naval states, only the ruins of past glory,
    sinking daily into insignificance. But notwithstanding this,
    neither was the image of former greatness blotted from their
    memories, nor a proper feeling for it extinguished in the
    minds of the inhabitants of the luxuriant peninsula. The
    pride of the more noble, fed itself on the sublime remains
    of lionian antiquity; and the monuments of the golden age of
    the family of Medicis indemnified a people given to the
    arts, and full of imagination for the loss of present
    grandeur, and kept up a lively anticipation of a better
    futurity, founded on the merits of its ancestors.

    "Helvetia, hemmed in between Italy, Germany, and France, by
    its mountains, continued in the peaceable enjoyment of its
    liberties through the respect its venerable age had
    universally diffused. Nevertheless, the disturbances at
    Geneva, and the increased spirit of emigration, were
    sufficient to indicate that a people who become indifferent
    to the present order of things, would willingly have
    recourse to a system of innovation, and that the ancient
    ties which had held the Swiss nation so many centuries
    together, were gradually relaxing.

    "The dissolution of the existing form of government, in the
    north-western Netherlands, which ought never to have been
    separated from the German corporation, was more visibly
    approaching. The unwieldiness of their disorganized union
    had no remedy to administer to the decline of their
    commerce, and naval power, which became more and more felt,
    being a natural consequence of the daily concentration of
    the larger states; and it was evident that the fate of the
    republic would be decided by a blow from abroad.

    "The British islands, at that time the only country in
    Europe which united under a monarchical head, moderate, but
    on that account more solid principles of freedom, with an
    equal balance of the different powers of the state, were at
    the commencement of the American disturbances in a
    progressive state of the most flourishing prosperity. For
    this happy condition they were indebted to their freedom and
    eligible commercial situation, together with the
    inexhaustible treasures nature had deposited in their mines
    of coal and iron, on the existence of which the industry of
    their diligent inhabitants is principally founded. Political
    ebullition existed in no higher degree than was necessary to
    give proper life, and less, perhaps, than was necessary to
    preserve it in all its purity, a constitution which, long
    since acquired after the most bloody struggles, was more
    deeply rooted in the modes of thinking, and in the manners
    and customs of the nation, than it was imprinted on them by
    the letter of the law. The government had sufficient leisure
    to direct its attention abroad, and by means of hostile
    enterprises, and political treaties, which must sooner or
    later give a naval power a decided ascendency, held out a
    helping hand to the commercial spirit of the people who
    aimed at making (and with increasing hopes of success) the
    remainder of the world tributary to it, for the productions
    of its fabrics and manufactures.

    "The plan of supporting commerce upon territorial
    acquisitions, and of forming an empire out of the conquered
    provinces of India, whose treasures should flow back to the
    queen of cities on the Thames, was already fully developed,
    and the exasperation against the western colonies was to be
    attributed as much to a mistaken commercial interest as to a
    spirit for dominion. The ingredients of the British national
    character, ever more coldly repulsive than amiable or
    attractive in its nature, had produced an almost universal
    antipathy not alone of the public mind, but also of the
    individual affections, against a people in so many points of
    view so highly respectable, and being unceasingly fed by
    that envy which every species of superiority involuntarily
    creates, produced the most conspicuous influence in the
    development of subsequent events."

The author then proceeds to notice the proceedings of Russia, Austria,
and Prussia, in relation to Poland, until its final dismemberment in
1795:--

    "It is unnecessary," he says in conclusion, "to give a
    further exposition of the leading principles of the three
    courts which began this work of annihilation, and still
    persevered in it, contrary to the solemn stipulations of
    treaties lately entered into, just at the moment when a new
    constitution, enthusiastically received, had offered every
    guaranty of security, the want of which had served to give
    an air of legitimacy to the first spoliations. External
    aggrandisement in the acquisition of territory and
    population, and internal considerations, so far as they
    afforded means of attaining the object in view, are, in
    short, the features of these unnatural principles. This
    economical digestion of an administration merely of things,
    not persons, may be termed excellent in its kind. Taken in
    this point of view, the Prussian government gave the most
    splendid proofs of the beneficial results which may be
    attained by military organization. Austria and Russia had
    followed this example; _and it required later events to
    prove, that the calculation is not always correct, that a
    standing army, forming a state within the state, is the only
    support and rallying point of a government, and that no
    system is safe, but that which is founded on the internal
    strength and unanimity of the people_."

Having sketched the political situation of Europe, at the commencement
of the American revolution, the author proceeds to notice the
interference of France and Spain;--the situation in which the colonies
of North America were left after the acknowledgment of their
independence;--the adoption of the new constitution;--the extraordinary
prosperity which followed;--the immense acquisitions of territory, and
the accession of wealth and numbers. He then traces the effects produced
in Europe, and most especially in France, by a participation in the
struggle between England and her colonies, and the contemplation of
their subsequent prosperity and happiness. The spirit of emancipation
was caught from the new, and was fast spreading itself over the old
world. This spirit first produced its practical effects in France,
whence it reached England, and almost all the states on the continent of
Europe, begetting a revolution of ideas at least, if not leading to the
revolution of governments, as it did in France.

The spirit of conquest which was perhaps forced upon France, by the
necessity of giving to the enemies of the new order of things,
employment at home, in order to prevent their interference abroad, was
fatal to the beneficial results of the revolution. The rapid conquests
achieved by Napoleon, drew the eyes and hearts of a people fond of
glory, and full of a military spirit, from their internal affairs, to
foreign conquests; and, while they were subduing a world, they were
themselves subdued by the same power. Then came the empire of Napoleon;
the confederacy of nations,--not merely of kings and their armies, but
of nations, instigated partly by their own wrongs, and partly by the
promises of their rulers, to rise in mass, and do what neither their
kings nor their armies had been able to perform. It was the people of
Europe that at length overthrew Napoleon.

When, after this great event, it became necessary to reorganize Europe,
which had been cast from its ancient moorings, by the gigantic power,
and gigantic mind of the child of democracy, who had devoured his
mother, there arose a schism between the people and their sovereigns.
The former expected the fulfilment of those promises, which the latter
had made in the hour of extreme peril, in order to rouse them to
effectual resistance against the French. These promises in Germany,
Prussia, the Netherlands, &c. consisted principally in the establishment
of representative governments, which would leave the sovereign in
possession of a hereditary power, checked by a body elected by the
people. On the other hand, the sovereigns, unmindful of the preservation
of their thrones, which they owed to _the people_, refused to fulfil
their solemn stipulations. In the hour of success, they as usual forgot
the hour of adversity, and insisted upon the unconditional
re-establishment, if not of old boundaries, at least of the old
political regime. Hence we may trace the origin of what is called
seriously by some, in derision and scorn by others, _the Holy Alliance_,
which originated in the fears and the weakness of kings, who, being
unable to maintain singly their antiquated pretensions at home, sought
in a close union of policy and interests, the means of doing that, which
each one alone was inadequate to achieve. By this alliance, Europe was
dismembered--millions of acres, and millions of people, were parcelled
out among the different sovereigns, and the balance of Europe was either
believed, or affected to be believed, restored by placing whole nations
under a dominion which they abhorred. It is obvious that such an
unnatural state of things could endure only while cemented by a mutual
fear of the powers which had constituted it; which fear would subside
immediately, or very soon after the dissolution of the great
confederacy. A large portion of Europe had been fermenting for nearly
fifteen years, under the oppressions of this union of despots, and the
moment of its separation, would naturally be that of the downfall of the
system they had attempted to impose on mankind. But we are anticipating
our brief analysis of the work before us:--

    "After twenty-three years of blood and revolution,"
    continues the author, "Louis was again seated on the throne
    of his forefathers, and the principles of monarchy seemed
    firmly established in Europe. But the principle of
    government was in reality no longer the old one, and the
    spirit of the relation in which the ruled stood to the
    rulers, although it had not yet been brought to light in
    visible forms, and specified limits, was materially changed.
    Mutual struggles of kings and their people against foreign
    aggression, and mutual sufferings in consequence of the
    division between the people and their rulers, the latter of
    whom owed esteem and acknowledgment for services rendered by
    the former, laid the foundation of a relation between them
    mutually more honourable. For centuries, indeed, the
    monarchs of Europe had not been identified and interwoven
    with their people; nor had they shared as now, the
    privations and humiliations, the domestic and public
    calamities, of the nations they governed; nor had they
    fought by their sides, and conquered by their efforts, as
    they had lately done in the late stormy period of the
    world."

Mutual suffering had taught them to feel a community of interests they
had not before recognised. Calamity brings all ranks to a level, and the
monarch exiled from his throne, can sympathise with the peasant driven
from his hovel.

In this state of feelings, one would suppose Europe might have reposed
in peace. But the elements of internal discord, lay buried deeply in her
bosom, and the internal relations of the different powers had been so
altered, as to present ample materials for dissension abroad. With the
necessity of appealing to the patriotism of their people, by promises of
privileges and immunities, expired the disposition to comply with them.
This breach of faith, produced on one hand indignation and discontent,
on the other, jealousy and apprehension. The discontents of the people,
caused their rulers to depend more on the support of their standing
armies, than on the attachment of their subjects, and these armies were
accordingly augmented to such an extent, that the unfortunate people
were at length impoverished by the very means used in enslaving them. At
this moment, nearly the whole of Europe, including the British islands,
constitutes a mass of military governments. Every where the civil power
is inadequate to the preservation of order, the enforcement of obedience
to the king and the laws, and every where a standing army under some
form or other presides over the opinions and actions of the people.
Hence results the curious and ominous, not to say awful spectacle of the
rights of property at the mercy of a mob; and on the other hand, the
rights of person, the liberties of the citizen, subject to the arbitrary
domination of the bayonet. At this moment, such is the state of every
monarchy in Europe.

Such a juxtaposition of kings and their people, must of necessity
alienate them from each other every day; and thus by degrees, the
feeling of loyalty towards the one, and of parental affection towards
the other, will be finally extinguished in mutual fears and mutual
injuries, that will for ever disturb their repose, until the people are
either perfectly satisfied, or totally subdued.

Another fruitful source of the discontents now agitating all Europe, is
the state of the labouring classes, not only manufacturing but
agricultural. The means of producing the necessaries and luxuries of
life have been multiplied by the increase of paper capital and
artificial expedients, until the supply exceeds the demand, and the
price of labour, even where labour can be procured, bears no proportion
to the price of bread. During fifteen years of peace, America and Europe
have augmented their powers of supplying their own wants and those of
the rest of the world, by means of improvements in arts, sciences,
machinery, &c., to an extent which cannot be estimated. The whole world
is glutted with the products of machinery, and exactly in the proportion
that these increase upon us, is the increase of the poverty of the
labouring classes. Millions of people in Europe, the largest proportion
of whom are inhabitants of the richest country in the world, and one
producing the greatest quantity of the results of industry, want bread,
because they either have no employment, or their wages will not obtain
it for them. Let political economists reason as they will, this is the
state of the labouring classes of Europe, and this state is aggravated
precisely in the proportion that the facility of supplying the
necessities and luxuries of life by artificial means is increased.

The cause of this singular state of things to us is sufficiently
obvious. The powers of wealth, the force of example, opinion, authority,
laws, of every concentrated influence that can be brought to bear upon
human affairs, have, all combined, been directed to a reduction of the
price of labour, and consequently to diminishing the consumption of the
products of human industry; for the great mass of mankind have nothing
but the fruits of their labour to offer in exchange for those products
which are necessary to their subsistence and comfort. In vain may it be
urged, as we have seen it done repeatedly, and most especially in an
address of a clergyman of England to the labouring classes of that
country--in vain may it be urged, that the decrease of the price of
labour has been met by a corresponding decrease in the price of the
necessaries of life, and that, therefore, the labouring classes are no
worse off, nay better off, than before the vast increase of machinery
either threw them out of employment, or forced them to labour for almost
nothing. This comfortable gentleman, who, we understand, has a good fat
living, and will probably be made a bishop if he can only stop the
mouths of the sufferers with reasons instead of bread, asks these poor
people if they don't get their hats, shoes, &c. one half cheaper in
consequence of the perfection of machinery, the improvements of the
arts, &c. But he takes care not to ask them if the difficulty of earning
this half price is not increased in a much greater proportion, in
consequence of the diminution of their wages, and whether bread, meat,
beer, and all the essentials of human existence, are not enhanced rather
than diminished in price. We could illustrate the theory of the reverend
gentleman, by an honest matter of fact story, which we can vouch for, as
it happened to a near relative of ours.

He had a gardener named Dennis, an honest fellow, full of simplicity,
and a dear lover of Old Ireland, as all Irishmen are, at home or abroad.
One day he was dilating with much satisfaction on the difference between
the price of potatoes in this country and Ireland. "In Ireland, your
honour, now I could git more nor a barrel of potatoes for a pishtareen,
but here it costs as much as a dollar and a half." The gentleman asked
him good naturedly why he did not remain where potatoes were so cheap.
Dennis considered a moment, and answered with the characteristic
frankness of his country--"why to tell your honour the honest truth,
though the potatoes were so cheap, I never could get the pishtareen to
buy them."

Here is the solution of the whole enigma. Every thing is cheap we will
say; but labour, which is the only equivalent a large mass of mankind
have to offer for every thing, is cheaper than all. Evident, as we think
this will appear, still it seems to have no influence on those who
govern mankind. And how should it? Their emoluments, their means of
expenditure, are derived, not from their own physical labour, but the
labours of others. The cheaper they can procure this, the deeper they
can revel in luxuries. With them, the relative proportion between the
remuneration of toil, and the means of living is nothing. Hence the
rulers of nations, hence capitalists, and all the brood of monopolists,
are stirring their energies abroad, to increase the supply of the
products of labour, at the same time that they take from the labourer
the due rewards of his labours, and thus prevent the consumption of the
vast accession of manufactures, &c. occasioned by the increase and
perfection of machinery. Inanimate powers are daily substituted for
human hands, and productions continue to multiply in an equal ratio.
This is a benefit to a single nation, while it possesses all the
advantages of superiority, and is enabled to supply a portion of the
rest of the world. But when other nations, as is the case now, adopt the
same system, and avail themselves of the same means of supply, a glut
takes place in the market, at home and abroad, and poverty and distress
among the labourers are the inevitable consequence.

Such seem to us the principal elements of combustion now at work in
Europe. Political disgust, and physical distresses are co-operating with
each other, and in order to quiet these disturbances, it is not only
necessary to give them more liberty, but more bread. But to return once
more to the speculations of our author,--

    "If we turn our view to the present state of agriculture,"
    continues Dr. Von Schmidt, "in many countries of Europe, it
    will appear evident, that even the paternal soil in many
    districts, is becoming too confined to afford nourishment to
    those who have remained faithful to its bosom. If in the
    mountainous countries, as for example, in the west and south
    of France, on the Alps, and along the Rhine, every spot is
    occupied, and the very earth and manure have for centuries
    been carried aloft upon the naked rock attended with the
    most boundless labour, in order to furnish soil for the
    vine, the olive, and for the different species of cerelia,
    and at present no further room exists for a more extended
    cultivation; it is not possible for a more numerous growing
    generation to find nourishment in these districts, whose
    productions are not susceptible of increasing progression.
    The too frequent practice of parcelling out common lands,
    and large estates, originally beneficial in itself, has
    produced similar consequences in other states. It was
    undoubtedly a wise and humane plan to transform commons, and
    extensive pastures into fruitful fields, and by dividing
    large estates which their owners could not overlook, into
    smaller lots, thus ensure more abundant crops, and an
    increasing population, by a more careful cultivation. But
    if, as is the case at the present day, in many places,
    useful lands have been split into so many small independent
    possessions, as to render it hardly possible for families
    occupying them, to subsist in the most penurious manner, by
    cultivating them; whence, then, is sustenance to be obtained
    for their more numerous posterity, and from what source is
    the state to derive its taxes? It is evident, that this
    condition of things must lead to the most poignant distress,
    and that a breadless multitude, either driven by
    irretrievable debts from their paternal huts, or voluntarily
    forsaking them on account of an inadequate maintenance, will
    turn their backs upon their country; and it may be
    considered a fortunate resource if they, as has frequently
    occurred in later times, carry with them the vigour of their
    strength to the free states of America, which stand in need
    of no one thing but human hands, to raise them to the
    highest degree of prosperity. Those governments in which
    such an unnatural distension of the state of society
    prevails, ought not, most assuredly, for their own
    advantage, and for the sake of humanity, by any means to
    throw obstacles in the way, but rather favour such
    emigration, and render it easy and consolatory for all,
    since they have it not in their power to offer a better
    remedy for their present misery. By doing this, they will
    prevent dangerous ebullitions and unruly disaffections of a
    distressed and overgrown population; they will lighten the
    number of poor which is increasing to a most alarming
    extent, and put an end to that angry state of abjectness and
    misery which is felt by every honest heart, and under which
    thousands have sunk down, who, with numerous families in
    hovels of wretchedness, prolong their existence upon more
    scanty means than the most common domestic animals, and who
    appear only to be gifted with reason in order to be more
    sensible to their forlorn and pitiable fate."

From the foregoing premises, the author deduces the conclusion, that the
free states of North America will increase in population more rapidly
than any other country has ever done, partly from emigration, and partly
from the unequalled facility of obtaining the comforts of life, by which
the numbers of mankind are regulated. The people, equally free from
political oppression, and the evils of abject poverty, such as scanty
nourishment, and crowded habitations, will at first make a rapid
progress in the useful, and subsequently, in the elegant arts, and more
abstract sciences. The freedom of their institutions will continually
offer every stimulus to the development of the features of independence,
and animate that spirit of intelligence, which always increases in
proportion to the freedom with which the human faculties are exercised.
Thence he proceeds to the supposition, that the states of South America
having attained to independence, will establish constitutional
governments similar to those of the North, whose example first
stimulated them to resistance to the mother country,--that this
similarity will naturally produce a close union of interest and policy
among all the states of the Western Continent, and that such a union
will give a death blow to the colonial system of Europe, at no distant
period.

The discovery and colonization of America, led to consequences which
re-modelled all Europe; and her emancipation from European thraldom
will, in like manner, force upon that portion of the world a new state
of things. _Europe, in her present situation, cannot do without
America,--while, on the other hand, America has no occasion for Europe._
America can, and will, therefore, become independent of Europe; but, in
the present state of things, Europe cannot become independent of
America. That almost universal empire which Europe attained by the
superiority of her intelligence,--by the tribute she exacted from every
other quarter of the globe, and by the superiority of her skill as well
as of her industry, cannot be sustained for a much longer period.

Wrapped up in a sense of his superiority, the European reclines at home,
shining in his borrowed plumes, derived from the product of every corner
of the earth, and the industry of every portion of its inhabitants, with
which his own natural resources would never have invested him, he
continues, as the author observes, revelling in enjoyments which nature
has denied him;--accustomed from his most tender years, to wants which
all the blessings and donations of the land and the ocean, produced
within the compass of his own quarter of the globe, are unable to
satisfy. While, therefore, the rest of the world has become tributary to
him, he, in return, has become dependent on it, by those wants,--the
supply of which, custom and education have made indispensably necessary.

America alone furnishes in a sufficient quantity those precious metals,
which constitute the basis on which the existing relations of all the
different classes of society, and indeed the whole concatenation of the
civil institutions of society in general, have been formed, and retained
to the present time. All the elements of modern splendour were derived
from her,--and it was her gifts to Europe, which changed almost all the
constituents of social life. The costly woods of the new world, banished
the native products of the old;--her cochineal and indigo furnish the
choicest materials for the richest dyes;--her rice is become an article
of cheap and general nourishment to the European world;--her cotton,
tobacco, coffee, sugar, molasses, cocoa and rum;--her numerous and
valuable drugs;--her diamonds and precious stones;--her furs, and, in
time of scarcity, the rich redundant stores of grain she pours forth
from her bosom, constitute so large a portion of the wants and luxuries
of Europe, that it is not too much to say, the latter is in a great
measure dependent upon America. A great portion of these cannot be
domesticated in the former, or produced in such quantities, as to supply
the demand which custom has made indispensable, nor upon such terms, as
would enable the people of Europe to indulge in their consumption. On
the contrary, experience has demonstrated, that all the natural
productions of Europe, its olives, and even its boasted vines, can be
naturalized in some one of the various regions of this quarter of the
globe, which comprehends in itself every climate and every soil. There
is not the least doubt, that, when the habits of the people, or the
interests of the country point to such a course, all these will be
produced in sufficient quantities, not only for domestic use, but
foreign exportation.

America, thus standing in need of none of the natural productions of
Europe, and possessing within herself much more numerous, as well as
precious gifts of nature, than any other quarter of the globe, will soon
be able to dispense with the products of foreign industry. Whenever she
can command the necessary stock of knowledge, and a sufficient number of
industrious hands, which emigration, aided by her own increasing
population, will soon place at her disposal, this will inevitably take
place. Where there exist materials, and understanding to use them, the
freedom of using them at pleasure, and security in the enjoyment of the
fruits of labour, the spirit of enterprise is inevitably awakened into
life and activity, and with it must flourish every species of
industry:--

    "North America," observes the author, "at the commencement
    of her revolution, found herself nearly destitute of all
    mechanical resources and means of resistance,--whereas now
    she possesses fortifications, and plenty of military
    supplies of all kinds, with the means of multiplying them,
    as occasion may require. She has already formed an
    efficient, spirited and increasing navy, which will before
    long dispute the empire of the seas; she is complete
    mistress of the several branches of knowledge, and contains
    within herself all the mechanical institutions requisite for
    the increase and maintenance of these things. She can equip
    an army or a navy, without a resort to Europe, for the most
    insignificant article."

The author then goes on to express an opinion that the complete
emancipation of South America, which he anticipates as soon to happen,
will lead to similar results, in that portion of the continent, and
produce an entire and final independence, political as well as
commercial. He does not pretend to designate the precise period in which
this will take place, but confines himself to the assertion, that in the
natural and inevitable course of things, it must and will happen, after
a determined opposition from European jealousy.

An inquiry is then commenced, into the possibility that Europe will be
enabled to supply the loss of America, by means of new connexions with
the other quarters of the globe. If she cannot procure a new market for
her surplus manufactures, how is she to acquire the means of purchasing
those productions of the new world, which have become indispensable to
her existence, in the sphere she has hitherto occupied? To do this she
must not only retain in their fullest extent, all the remaining branches
of her commerce, but obtain others, by entering into new connexions with
Asia and Africa, and colonizing new regions. To do this, not only does
the necessary energy seem wanting, but Europe will have to encounter the
competition of America, with all our unequalled celerity of enterprise,
and all our rapidly increasing powers of competition. She is much more
likely to lose her remaining colonies than to acquire new ones; and it
approaches to an extreme degree of probability, that she will be driven
from many of her accustomed branches of commerce, by the superior energy
and enterprise of America, rather than obtain new marts for her
manufactures. Already the North American cottons are finding their way
to India, and banishing the productions of the British looms from the
markets of the southern portion of this continent. The trade to China is
already assuming an entire new character, and will probably before long
be carried on without the instrumentality of Spanish dollars.

We think the positions of our author are eminently entitled to
consideration. The situation of a part of the continent of America,
south of the Isthmus of Darien, is much more favourable to a commercial
intercourse with Asia, western Africa, than that of Europe. The coast of
Guinea can be much more easily visited from Caraccas, Cayenne, and
Surinam, than from any portion of Europe; and the Cape of Good Hope,
lying directly to the east of the great river La Plata, is much better
adapted to an intercourse with Rio Janeiro, and Buenos Ayres, than any
of the Dutch or English colonies. The Isles of France, Bourbon, and
Madagascar, situated between the Cape of Good Hope, and the eastern
coast of Africa, are much more suited to a communication with the new
states of South America, than with the mother countries. Such is the
case with the Philippine islands, New-Holland, the Marquesas, the
Friendly and Society islands. The geographical relations between all
these, and different portions of South America, sufficiently indicate
that when the reins shall have fallen from the hands of Europe, the
intercourse will in a great measure change its course, and centre in the
new instead of the old world.

The principle, we are aware, has been assumed, that whatever state
supports the most powerful navy for the protection of its commerce, will
always take the lead. But it hardly now remains a question, whether the
states of the new world will not be able ere long, to direct trade into
the free channel which nature herself seems to point out for all
nations, but which the exorbitant naval power of one has forced into
artificial and circuitous directions.

Europe will not for ever be able to wield the trident of the seas, nor
sway the sceptre of intellectual superiority. There is a time for all
things. There was a time when she borrowed her arts, her literature, her
refinements, and her civilization, from Asia. These are for ever passing
from one nation, and from one continent to another. The descendents of
Europeans in the new world, have not degenerated, and possessing as they
do as many advantages of situation as were ever enjoyed by any people
under the sun, with as great a field for their exercise as was ever
presented for human action, it would be departing from the natural order
of things, and the ordinary operations of the great scheme of
Providence; it would be shutting our ears to the voice of experience,
and our eyes to the inevitable connexion of causes and their effects,
were we to reject the extreme probability, not to say moral certainty,
that the old world is destined to receive its impulses in future, from
the new. Already we see the bright dawnings of this new relation, in the
universal diffusion of the spirit of emancipation, first sought in the
wilds of America. It was there that was first lighted that spark which
is now animating and stimulating the nations of the old world to become
free and happy like ourselves. The unshackled genius of the new world is
now exerting itself with gigantic vigour, aided by the infinite
treasures of nature, to strengthen its powers, increase its commerce,
its resources, and its wealth. No other quarter of the globe, much less
a single nation, will eventually be able to dispute the empire of the
seas, with the new world.

We shall devote the remainder of this article to a consideration of
events which have occurred in Europe since the publication of the work
before us, which richly merits a better translation, as well as a
republication in this country. This course is necessary to our purpose,
although it is our humble opinion, that the writers and publications of
this country, give a disproportionate attention to the affairs of other
people, and of consequence, neglect our own. Let us look to ourselves;
preserve the purity of the national manners and institutions--foster our
natural and accidental advantages, and observe, and gather lessons of
wisdom as well as moderation from the folly and excesses of rulers and
people in the old superannuated world. Above all, let us ever bear in
mind and continue to act upon the sentiment of Daniel Webster, and be
careful that "_while other nations are moulding their governments after
ours, we do not break the pattern_."

The present state of Europe, we think, offers additional probabilities
to the theory laid down in the work of the Danish philosopher. Two great
principles are now approaching to a struggle, which will, in all human
probability, ere long, produce not only wars, but the worst of wars,
internal dissensions, aggravated by external struggles with foreign
powers. Although the principle of emancipation is common to the
revolution of America, and the revolutionary spirit now at work in
Europe, all other circumstances are essentially different. With us, it
was throwing off a dominion seated at a vast distance beyond the seas,
and only known among us by its representatives. In Europe, on the
contrary, it is a central power existing in the heart, and pervading
every portion of the body politic. A revolution then, must overturn
thrones, church establishments, standing armies, hereditary orders, and
prejudices hallowed by ages of reverence and submission. The whole frame
and organization of society must be dissolved, changed into new
elements, and be arranged into new forms.

The enemies of _statu quo_, and the genius of change, are now arraying
their respective powers, and in proportion as the people have been
debarred from all participation in the government, will be their ardour
to govern without controul. Such a struggle cannot end in a day, or in a
year,--nor will it be decided in all probability, except through a long
series of gradations, which will finally rest at last on a basis
suitable to the present state of the human mind. We cannot, therefore,
but anticipate heavy times for Europe. A long course of internal and
external wars, is fatal to the great interests of a state. Commerce
decays, and seeks other more peaceful climes--agriculture is robbed of
its labourers, and of the products of labour, to recruit and feed the
armies,--and manufacturers are deprived of their foreign purchasers. The
powers of the intellect, too, are diverted from the pursuits of science
and literature, into the bloody paths of warfare,--and thus it has ever
happened, that a long continuance of national struggles, produces a
neglect of the arts of peace, and an approach to barbarism.

Insecurity of property is one of the inevitable consequences of civil
wars. The products of the land are the common stock of plunder for both
parties, and the land itself becomes a prey to confiscation. At this
day, a vast portion of the wealth of Europe is vested in stocks, which
are still more fatally operated upon by civil wars. Their value, in
fact, becomes, in such a state of things, merely nominal; and it depends
upon the success of one or other of the parties in the struggle, whether
they again attain to their original prices, or become worthless. Such a
crisis seems fast approaching in Europe. When once the conflicting
elements of anarchy and despotism commence their warfare, who shall say
where and when it will end? Prophecy, in this case, would be
presumption,--when it does end, the result will be equally uncertain.
Whether a chastened freedom, guarantied by a fair representation of the
people in the governments, a despotism without limits, or an anarchy
without controul, is beyond the reach of human foresight to predict.

One thing, however, we think, is certain. This unsettled state of life,
liberty and property, in Europe, will produce a vast accession of wealth
and population in the new world, and accelerate its progress to the
sceptre of intellect and power, hitherto, for so long a time, wielded by
the old. The neighbouring nations of Europe, being all nearly in the
same state of internal insecurity, afford no safe refuge to fugitives or
property, from each other--even if their national antipathies did not
present a barrier to emigration. The United States, on the contrary,
with nothing to disturb their tranquillity, but the peaceable struggles
of an election, and stretching out a hand of welcome to all nations, and
all ranks of mankind, from the exiled monarch to the mechanic or
peasant, coming in search of employment and bread, will present a safe
deposit for the wealth of Europe,--a sanctuary where the persecuted, the
harassed, and the timid spirit, may find repose from the storms that vex
his native land.

Thus, to our native energy, intelligence, and resources, will be added a
large portion of those of the other quarter of the world, and the united
result, in all human probability, _must_ be the fulfilment of the great
prophecy, that the empire of the world was travelling towards the
setting sun. The sceptre will depart from the east, and be wielded by
the west. Power, dominion, science, literature, and the arts, hitherto
the satellites of despotism, will become the bright and beautiful
handmaids of a brighter goddess than themselves, and the glory of
Europe, like that of Asia, be preserved in her history and her
traditions.

The anticipation is as rational as glorious to an American. Look at the
state of Europe once more, and separate it into its constituent parts.
Let us begin with France. What has she gained by her revolution of July
but a branch of the same tree, in the room of the rotten trunk? Has she
won freedom or repose? Not even the freedom of complaint,--nor any other
repose, but the repose of the National Guards. What is the cry of the
people of Paris? Not liberty alone, but "give us employment and bread."
Thus irritated by a feeling of disappointment on one hand, and goaded on
by hunger, can they stop where they are? Certainly not; it is not in the
nature of man, nor the nature of things. Two such impulses can only be
satisfied by the grant of their demands, and only quelled by force.

Look at the great rival of France on the opposite side of the channel.
The same mighty evils are at work there--discontent aggravated by
hunger. At the moment we are writing, a question is depending in the
Parliament of England, which agitates the island to its centre, and the
decision of which, either one way or other, is acknowledged by both
parties to amount to the signal of a revolution. The opponents of the
Bill of Reform maintain, that, if carried, it will destroy the basis of
the government; and the advocates assert, that, if not carried, it will
produce a revolution, originating in the disappointment and indignation
of the people.

Will the aristocracy of England--the most wealthy and powerful
aristocracy in the world--voluntarily, and without a mighty struggle,
divest themselves of one of their chief sources of power in the state.
Will they sacrifice their parliamentary influence, which constitutes one
of the regular modes and means of providing for younger sons and poor
relations? Nay, which enables them to dictate to their sovereign? We
believe not. Will the people remain quiet under the disappointment of
their newborn hopes, aggravated as it will be by poverty and distress,
among so large a number? Perhaps they will, so long as there is an army
of sixty or eighty thousand men, disposed so happily for the protection
of order in the _United_ Kingdom, that every breath of discontent is met
by a bayonet. But let the monarchs who maintain _order_ in Europe, by
means of standing armies, recollect the lesson of history, which teaches
us, that throughout all ages, and countries, the power which sustained
the throne by force, in the end by force overthrew it. There is but one
solid permanent support of power, and that is, the attachment of the
people.

In the present state of Europe, we incline to the opinion that the
safest course for kings to take, would be to identify themselves with
the people, and become the organs of their wishes. We see no other means
for the present King of England to make head successfully against the
weight of the opposition of the church and nobility, in case he
decisively sustains the present ministry in their plans of parliamentary
reform, than to make common cause with his people, and say to them
honestly, "I have become your champion, do you become my supporters."
The government of England is acknowledged on all hands to be a mixed
government of king, lords, and commons. Who represents the commons of
England? The House of Commons. But can it do this effectually, while a
large portion of the members are returned by the House of Lords? We
should think not. The spirit and purity of the system can only be
preserved by the commons, and the commons alone, selecting their
representatives in their own house, and not the nobility. Does the House
of Commons interfere in the same way in the creation of the members of
the House of Lords? They have no voice or influence in the business.
Why, then, should the House of Lords interfere in the election, or
appointment rather, of the members of the House of Commons? In this
point of view, therefore, we can perceive no sort of foundation for the
argument of the opponents of reform, that the measure will operate to
destroy the balance of the government. We rather think it will restore
the balance, and bring it back to the true old theory of three distinct
powers--king, lords, and commons.

We believe that the people will be satisfied with this reform for a
time, if it take place. When they shall see, as no doubt they will see,
that the burthens of the state, and consequently their own, remain the
same, or perhaps increase with the increase of those who require relief,
and the decrease of those who are able to bestow it; when they shall
find that a reform in Parliament will not give them liberal wages, or
feed their suffering families, then will they become more dissatisfied
than ever. Then, too, will the result disclose where the shoe of reform
pinched the opponents of reform. The increased representation of the
people will then enable the people to _make_ themselves heard and felt,
and to force the government into measures that may indeed destroy the
constitution of England, if there be any such invisible being. Whichever
way we look, therefore, we perceive the same causes of discontent, the
same spirit of emancipation at work, that agitates the continent of
Europe; and so long as this state of things continues, it requires no
spirit of prophecy to predict, that England, so far from advancing in
power or intelligence, will, in all probability, invincibly slide from
the summit of power, and become the victim of internal weakness at last.

The state of Holland and Belgium, of Italy and Germany, and Russia and
Prussia, and Spain and Poland, is still more unfavourable to arts,
science, commerce, literature, and agriculture. The rulers are employed
in schemes for keeping the people in subjugation, and the people in
wresting the promised privileges from their rulers. In such a state of
things, the one party has no time to devise schemes for enriching or
enlightening the people, but is employed, on the contrary, in placing
them, as far as possible, in ignorance and poverty. The other is so
taken up with politics, that its habits of economy, steadiness, and
enterprise, are forgotten by degrees in the whirlpool of turbulent
excitement. Each and all of these countries, with the exception perhaps
of Russia, instead of advancing, will gradually recede in wealth and
intelligence, not only from internal dissensions, but on account of the
large portion of both, that will from time to time, as long as this
state of things shall last, direct its course to the new world.

The change from old to new times; from the inapplicable maxims of the
past, to the practical truths of the present, has, every where, and in
all past ages, been a period of suffering to the human race. The
approaches to this state of regeneration, are marked by turbulent
disaffection on one hand, inflexible severity on the other; its progress
is marked by the dissolution of the social ties, and its crisis with
blood and tears. The people have to encounter the most formidable
difficulties, under which they probably sink many times, before they
rise at last and make the great successive effort. These evils are
aggravated and perpetuated as long as possible, by the stern inflexible
rigidity of old-established institutions, worthless in proportion to
their obstinacy, aided by the blind besotted pride of kings, who seem
never to have learnt the lesson of yielding to the changes produced by
time and circumstance, and sacrificing gracefully, what will otherwise
be taken from them by force.

But all that is great, or good, or valuable, in this world, must be
attained by labour, perseverance, courage, and integrity. Liberty is too
valuable a blessing to be gained or preserved without the exercise of
these great virtues. It must have its victims, and its charter must be
sealed with blood. A people afraid of a bayonet, are not likely to be
free while Europe swarms with standing armies, having little or no
community of interests or feeling with those who maintain them by the
sweat of their brow. When the oppressed states of Switzerland, sent
forth patriots who made a breach in the forest of German bayonets
opposed to them, by circling them in their arms, and receiving them into
their bosoms, they deserved to be free--they became free, and their
liberties are still preserved. But so long as a host often thousand
brawling and hungry malcontents, can be quieted and dispersed by the
sound of a bugle, the clattering of a horse's hoofs, or the glittering
of a musket barrel, can such people expect to be free? Assuredly not, we
think. No where will despotism or aristocracy peaceably resign their
long established preponderance without a struggle, and like our own
revolution, the contest will at last come to the crisis--"_we must
fight, Mr. Speaker, we must fight_," as said the intrepid Patrick
Henry,--and we did fight. So must Europe if it expects emancipation. All
the governments of that quarter of the globe, are now sustained by a
military force--and by force only can they be overthrown or modified, to
suit the great changes which have taken place in the feelings and
relative situation of the different orders of society.

That the present state and future prospects of that renowned and
illustrious quarter of the globe, are ominous of a continued succession
of storms and troubles, we think appears too obvious. The night that is
approaching, will be long and dark, in all human probability--it may end
in a total regeneration--in a confirmed and inflexible despotism; or in
that precise state of things which characterized what are called, the
dark ages of Europe--in the establishment of a hundred petty states,
governed by a hundred petty tyrants, eternally at variance, and agreeing
in nothing but in oppressing the people. Great standing armies are at
present the conservators of the great powers of Europe, and public
sentiment is no longer the sole or principal cement of empires; when
these are gone, as they must be, ere the nations which they oppress can
be free, then all the little sectional and provincial jealousies and
antipathies, every real or imaginary opposition of interests, and even
feelings of personal rivalry, will have an opportunity of coming into
full play, and the result may very probably be, the erection of a vast
many petty states, which will never be brought to act together in any
great system of policy. Thus situated, they will never be able to make
head against the growing power of the vast states of the new world,
which whatever may be their minor causes of difference, will naturally
unite in those views of commercial policy, which being common to all,
will be sought by a common effort.

The South American states, it is true, have not yet realized the
blessings of emancipation, partly owing to their inexperience in the
practical secrets of civil liberty; partly to the want of public virtue
in the people, and their rulers, and partly, as we are much inclined to
suspect, to the secret intrigues of more than one European power. But
their natural and inevitable tendency is, we believe, towards a stable
government, combining a complete independence of foreign powers, with
such a portion of civil liberty as may suit their present circumstances
and situation. They are serving their apprenticeship--they will soon be
out of their time, and may safely set up for themselves.

But, however doubtful may be the final result of the great struggle
between the kings and the people--or of the aristocracy and the
people--for this seems to be the real struggle after all--whatever may
be its final result, one thing is certain as fate. While it continues,
it must inevitably arrest the prosperity of Europe, such as it is, and
force it to retrograde for a time. Instead of devoting their attention
to the interests of the nation abroad, and encouraging the industry and
intelligence of the people at home, kings will be employed in watching
and restraining their subjects. Fearing the intelligence and wealth, as
the means of increasing their discontents as well as their power, they
will seek to diminish both by new restraints or new exactions; and thus
the best ends of government will be perverted to purposes of ignorance
and oppression. This is the history of the degradation, and consequent
internal weakness of all nations, and a perseverance in such a course in
Europe, will only afford another example, that the same effects proceed
from similar causes, every where, and at all times.

In the mean while, as oppression, civil wars, internal disaffection,
anarchy, and expatriation of wealth and numbers, all combined, are
gradually undermining the strength of Europe, and draining her veins,
the new world will be, in all human probability, every day acquiring
what the old is losing. If she once pass the other, if it be only by the
breadth of a single hair, it is scarcely to be anticipated that age and
decrepitude will ever be able to regain the vantage ground, against the
primitive energies of vigorous youth. Once ahead, and the new world will
remain so, until the ever revolving course of time, and the revolutions
it never fails to accomplish, shall perhaps again transfer to Asia the
sceptre of arts, science, literature, power, and dominion, which was
wrested from her by Europe.

To realize these bold anticipations, nothing seems necessary but for the
people of the United States to bear in mind, that they are the
patriarchs of modern emancipation--that the spark which animates the
people of Europe was caught from them--that they led the way in the
_great common cause of all mankind_--that the eyes of the world are upon
them--and that they stand under a solemn obligation to do nothing
themselves, to suffer their leaders to do nothing, which shall bring the
sacred name of liberty into disgrace, or endanger the integrity of our
great confederation. "_While other nations are moulding their
governments after ours, may we not destroy the pattern._"


[Footnote 4: Hutchinson's History of Massachusetts, Vol. I, pages 84,
85.]




    ART. VII.--_Speeches and Forensic Arguments, by_ DANIEL
    WEBSTER: 8vo. pp. 520. Boston: 1830.


It has often enough been objected to books written and published in the
United States, that they want a national air, tone, and temper.
Unhappily, too, the complaint has not unfrequently been well founded;
but the volume before us is a striking exception to all such remarks. It
consists of a collection of Mr. Webster's Public Addresses, Speeches in
Congress, and Forensic Arguments, printed chiefly from pamphlets,
already well known; and it is marked throughout, to an uncommon degree,
with the best characteristics of a generous nationality. No one, indeed,
can open it, without perceiving that, whatever it contains, must have
been the work of one born and educated among our free institutions,--formed
in their spirit, and animated and sustained by their genius and power.
The subjects discussed, and the interests maintained in it, are entirely
American; and many of them are so important, that they are already
become prominent parts of our history. As we turn over its pages,
therefore, and see how completely Mr. Webster has identified himself
with the great institutions of the country, and how they, in their turn,
have inspired and called forth the greatest efforts of his uncommon
mind, we feel as if the sources of his strength, and the mystery by
which it controuls us, were, in a considerable degree, interpreted. We
feel that, like the fabulous giant of antiquity, he gathers it from the
very earth that produced him; and our sympathy and interest, therefore,
are excited, not less by the principle on which his power so much
depends, than by the subjects and occasions on which it is so strikingly
put forth. We understand better than we did before, not only why we have
been drawn to him, but why the attraction that carried us along, was at
once so cogent and so natural.

When, however, such a man appears before the nation, the period of his
youth and training is necessarily gone by. It is only as a distinguished
member of the General Government,--probably in one of the two Houses of
Congress, that he first comes, as it were, into the presence of the
great mass of his countrymen. But, before he can arrive there, he has,
in the vast majority of cases, reached the full stature of his strength,
and developed all the prominent peculiarities of his character. Much,
therefore, of what is most interesting in relation to him,--much of what
goes to make up his individuality and momentum, and without which,
neither his elevation nor his conduct can be fully understood or
estimated, is known only in the circle of his private friends, or, at
most, in that section of the country from which he derives his origin.
In this way, we are ignorant of much that it concerns us to know about
many of our distinguished statesmen; but about none, probably, are we
more relatively ignorant than about Mr. Webster, who is eminently one of
those persons, whose professional and political career cannot be fairly
or entirely understood, unless we have some acquaintance with the
circumstances of his origin, and of his early history, taken in
connection with his whole public life. We were, therefore, disappointed,
on opening the present volume, not to find prefixed to it a full
biographical notice of him. We were, indeed, so much disappointed and
felt so fully persuaded, that neither the contents of the volume itself,
nor the sources of its author's power, nor his position before the
nation, could be properly comprehended without it, that we determined at
once to connect whatever we should say on any of these subjects, by such
notices of his life, as we might be able to collect under unfavourable
circumstances. We only regret that our efforts have not been more
successful,--and that our notices, therefore, are few and imperfect.

Mr. Webster was born in Salisbury, a farming town of New-Hampshire, at
the head of the Merrimack, in 1782. His father, always a farmer, was a
man of a strongly marked and vigorous character,--full of decision,
integrity, firmness, and good sense. He served under Lord Amherst, in
the French war, that ended in 1763; and, in the war of the Revolution,
he commanded a company chiefly composed of his own towns-people and
friends, who gladly fought under his leading nearly every campaign, and
at whose head he was found, in the battle of Bennington, at the White
Plains, and at West-Point, when Arnold's treason was discovered. He died
about the year 1806; and, at the time of his death, had filled, for many
years, the office of Judge of the Court of Common Pleas, for the state
of New-Hampshire.

But, during the early part of Mr. Webster's life, the place of his
birth, now the centre of a flourishing and happy population, was on the
frontiers of civilization. His father had been one of the very first
settlers, and had even pushed further into the wilderness than the rest,
so that the smoke sent up amidst the solitude of the forest, from the
humble dwelling in which Mr. Webster was himself born, marked, for some
time, the ultimate limit of New England adventure at the North.
Undoubtedly, in any other country, the sufferings, privations, and
discouragements inevitable in such a life, would have precluded all
thought of intellectual culture. But, in New England, ever since the
first free school was established amidst the woods that covered the
peninsula of Boston, in 1636, the school-master has been found on the
border line between savage and civilized life, often indeed with an axe
to open his own path, but always looked up to with respect, and always
carrying with him a valuable and preponderating influence.

It is to this characteristic trait of New England policy, that we owe
the first development of Mr. Webster's powers, and the original
determination of his whole course in life; for, unless the school had
sought him in the forest, his father's means would not have been
sufficient to send him down into the settlements to seek the school. The
first upward step, therefore, would have been wanting; and it is not at
all probable, that any subsequent exertions on his own part, would have
enabled him to retrieve it. The value of such a benefit cannot, indeed,
be measured; but it seems to have been his good fortune to be able in
part, at least, to repay it; for no man has explained with such
simplicity and force as he has explained them, the very principles and
foundations on which the free schools of New England rest, or shown,
with such a feeling of their importance and value, how truly the free
institutions of our country must be built on the education of all. We
allude now to his remarks in the Convention of Massachusetts, where,
speaking of the support of schools, he says:--

    "In this particular we may be allowed to claim a merit of a
    very high and peculiar character. This commonwealth, with
    other of the New England states, early adopted, and has
    constantly maintained the principle, that it is the
    undoubted right, and the bounden duty of government, to
    provide for the instruction of all youth. That which is
    elsewhere left to chance, or to charity, we secure by law.
    For the purpose of public instruction, we hold every man
    subject to taxation, in proportion to his property, and we
    look not to the question, whether he, himself, have or have
    not children to be benefited by the education for which he
    pays. We regard it as a wise and liberal system of police,
    by which property, and life, and the peace of society are
    secured. We seek to prevent, in some measure, the extension
    of the penal code, by inspiring a salutary and conservative
    principle of virtue, and of knowledge, in an early age. We
    hope to excite a feeling of respectability, and a sense of
    character, by enlarging the capacity, and increasing the
    sphere of intellectual enjoyment. By general instruction, we
    seek, as far as possible, to purify the whole moral
    atmosphere; to keep good sentiments uppermost, and to turn
    the strong current of feeling and opinion, as well as the
    censures of the law, and the denunciations of religion,
    against immorality and crime. We hope for a security, beyond
    the law, and above the law, in the prevalence of enlightened
    and well principled moral sentiment. We hope to continue and
    to prolong the time, when, in the villages and farm houses
    of New England, there may be undisturbed sleep, within
    unbarred doors. And knowing that our government rests
    directly on the public will, that we may preserve it, we
    endeavour to give a safe and proper direction to that public
    will. We do not, indeed, expect all men to be philosophers,
    or statesmen; but we confidently trust, and our expectation
    of the duration of our system of government rests on that
    trust, that by the diffusion of general knowledge, and good
    and virtuous sentiments, the political fabric may be secure,
    as well against open violence and overthrow, as against the
    slow but sure undermining of licentiousness." pages 209,
    210.

    "I rejoice, Sir, that every man in this community may call
    all property his own, so far as he has occasion for it, to
    furnish for himself and his children the blessings of
    religious instruction and the elements of knowledge. This
    celestial, and this earthly light, he is entitled to by the
    fundamental laws. It is every poor man's undoubted
    birth-right, it is the great blessing which this
    constitution has secured to him, it is his solace in life,
    and it may well be his consolation in death, that his
    country stands pledged, by the faith which it has plighted
    to all its citizens, to protect his children from ignorance,
    barbarism and vice." p. 211.

How Mr. Webster's education was advanced immediately after he left these
primary schools, is, we believe, not known. It was, however, with great
sacrifices on the part of his family, and severe struggles on his own.
At last, when he was fifteen or sixteen years old, after a very
imperfect preparation, he was entered at Dartmouth College; at least, so
we infer, for he was graduated there in 1801. What were his principal or
favourite pursuits during the three or four years of his academic life,
we do not know. We remember, however, to have met formerly, one of his
classmates, who spoke with the liveliest interest of the generous and
delightful spirit he showed among his earliest friends and competitors,
in the midst of whom, he manifested, from the first, aspirations
entirely beyond his condition, and, when the first year was passed,
developed faculties which left all rivalship far behind him. Indeed, it
is known, in many ways, that, by those who were acquainted with him at
this period of his life, he was already regarded as a marked man; and
that, to the more sagacious of them, the honours of his subsequent
career have not been unexpected.

Immediately after leaving college, he began the study of the law in the
place of his nativity, with Mr. Thompson, soon afterwards a member of
Congress; a gentleman who, from the elevation of his character, was able
to comprehend that of his pupil and contribute to unfold its powers. But
the _res augustæ domi_ pressed hard upon him. He was compelled to exert
himself for his own support; and his professional studies were
frequently interrupted and impaired by pursuits, which ended only in
obtaining what was needful for his mere subsistence.

Circumstances connected with his condition and wants at this time, led
him to Boston, and carried him, when there, into the office of Mr. Gore.
This was, undoubtedly, one of the deciding circumstances of his life.
Mr. Gore was a lawyer of eminence, and a _gentleman_, in the loftiest
and most generous meaning of the word. His history was already connected
with that of the country. He had been appointed district attorney of the
United States for Massachusetts, by Washington; he had served in England
as our commissioner under Jay's treaty; and he was afterwards governor
of his native state, and its senator in Congress. His whole character,
private, political, and professional, from its elevation, purity and
dignity, was singularly fitted to influence a young man of quick and
generous feelings, who already perceived within himself the impulse of
talents and the stirrings of an ambition whose direction was yet to be
determined. Mr. Webster felt, that it was well for him to be there; and
Mr. Gore obtained an influence over his young mind, which the peculiarly
kind and frank manners of the instructer permitted early to ripen into
an intimacy and friendship that were interrupted only by death.

Mr. Webster finished the study of his profession in Boston, and was
there admitted to the bar in 1805;--Mr. Gore, who presented him,
venturing, at the time, to make a prediction to the court respecting his
pupil's future eminence, which has been hardly more than fulfilled by
all his present fame. At first, he began the practice of his profession
in Boscawen, a small village adjacent to the place of his birth; but in
1807, he removed to Portsmouth, where, no doubt, he thought he was
establishing himself for life.

As a young lawyer, about to lay the foundations for future success, his
portion could, perhaps, hardly have been rendered more fortunate and
happy than it was now in Portsmouth. He rose rapidly in general regard,
and was, therefore, almost at once, ranked with the first in his
profession in his native state. Of course, his associations and
intercourse were with the first minds. And, happily for one like him,
the presiding judge of the highest tribunal in New-Hampshire was then
Mr. Smith, afterwards governor of the state, whose native clearness of
perception, acuteness, and power, united to faithful and accurate
learning in his profession, and the soundest and most practical wisdom
in the fulfilment of his duties on the bench, and in his intercourse
with the bar, gave him naturally and necessarily great influence over
its younger members. Mr. Webster, as the most prominent among them, came
much in contact with him, and profited much from his sagacious foresight
and wise and discriminating kindness. He came, too, still more in
contact with Mr. Mason, afterwards a senator in Congress, and then and
still the leading counsel in New-Hampshire. Mr. Mason was his senior by
several years, but there was no other adversary capable of encountering
him; and the intellect with which Mr. Webster was thus called to contend
on equal terms was one of the highest order, of ample resources, and of
the quickest penetration; whose original reach, firm grasp, and
unsparing logic, left no safety for an adversary, but in a vigour,
readiness and skill, which could never be taken unprepared or at
disadvantage. It was a severe school; but there is little reason to
doubt, Mr. Webster owes to its stern and rugged discipline much of that
intellectual training and power, which render him, in his turn, so
formidable an adversary. He owes to it, also, notwithstanding their
uniform and daily opposition in court, the no less uniform personal
friendship of Mr. Mason in private life.

It was in the midst, however, of this period, both of discipline and
success as a lawyer, in New-Hampshire, that he entered public life. In
the government of his native state, we believe, he never took office of
any kind; and his first political place, therefore, was in the
thirteenth Congress of the United States. He was chosen in 1812, soon
after the declaration of war; and as he was then hardly thirty years
old, he must have been one of the youngest members of that important
Congress. His position there was difficult, and he felt it to be so. He
was opposed to the policy of the war; he represented a state earnestly
opposed to it; and he had always, especially in the eloquent and
powerful memorial from the great popular meeting in Rockingham,
expressed himself fully and frankly on the whole subject. But he was now
called into the councils of the government, which was carrying on the
war itself. He felt it to be his duty, therefore, to make no factious
opposition to the measures essential to maintain the dignity and honour
of the country; to make no opposition for opposition's sake; though, at
the same time, he felt it to be no less his duty, to take good heed that
neither the constitution, nor the essential interests of the nation,
were endangered or sacrificed--_ne quid detrimenti respublica accipiat_.
This, indeed, seems to have been his motto up to the time of the peace;
and his tone in relation to it is always manly, bold, and decisive. When
Mr. Monroe's bill for a sort of conscription was introduced, he joined
with Mr. Eppes, and other friends of the administration, in defeating a
project, which, except in a moment of great anxiety and excitement,
would probably have found no defenders. But when, on the other hand, the
bill for "encouraging enlistments" was before the house, he held, in
January 1814, the following strong and striking language, in which, now
the passions of that stormy period are hushed, all will sympathize.

    "The humble aid which it would be in my power to render to
    measures of government, shall be given cheerfully, if
    government will pursue measures which I can conscientiously
    support. If, even now, failing in an honest and sincere
    attempt to procure a just and honourable peace, it will
    return to measures of defence and protection, such as
    reason, and common sense, and the public opinion, all call
    for, my vote shall not be withholden from the means. Give up
    your futile projects of invasion. Extinguish the fires that
    blaze on your inland frontiers. Establish perfect safety and
    defence there by adequate force. Let every man that sleeps
    on your soil sleep in security. Stop the blood that flows
    from the veins of unarmed yeomanry, and women and children.
    Give to the living time to bury and lament their dead, in
    the quietness of private sorrow. Having performed this work
    of beneficence and mercy on your inland border, turn, and
    look with the eye of justice and compassion on your vast
    population along the coast. Unclench the iron grasp of your
    embargo. Take measures for that end before another sun sets
    upon you. With all the war of the enemy on your commerce, if
    you would cease to make war upon it yourselves, you would
    still have some commerce. That commerce would give you some
    revenue. Apply that revenue to the augmentation of your
    navy. That navy, in turn, will protect your commerce. Let it
    no longer be said, that not one ship of force, built by your
    hands since the war, yet floats upon the ocean. Turn the
    current of your efforts into the channel, which national
    sentiment has already worn broad and deep to receive it. A
    naval force, competent to defend your coast against
    considerable armaments, to convoy your trade, and perhaps
    raise the blockade of your rivers, is not a chimera. It may
    be realized. If, then, the war must continue, go to the
    ocean. If you are seriously contending for maritime rights,
    go to the theatre, where alone those rights can be defended.
    Thither every indication of your fortunes points you. There
    the united wishes and exertions of the nation will go with
    you. Even our party divisions, acrimonious as they are,
    cease at the water's edge. They are lost in attachment to
    the national character, on the element where that character
    is made respectable. In protecting naval interests by naval
    means, you will arm yourselves with the whole power of
    national sentiment, and may command the whole abundance of
    the national resource. In time, you may be enabled to
    redress injuries in the place where they may be offered;
    and, if need be, to accompany your own flag throughout the
    world with the protection of your own cannon."[5] Speech,
    pp. 14, 15.

Later in the same Congress, the subject of the establishment and
principles of a national bank came into discussion, and the finances of
the country being then greatly embarrassed, this subject rose to
paramount importance, and absorbed much of the attention of Congress up
to the moment when the annunciation of peace put a period, for the time,
to all such debates. On the whole matter of the bank and the currency,
Congress was divided into three parties. First, those who were against a
national bank under any form. These persons consisted chiefly of the
remains of the old party, which had originally opposed the establishment
of the first bank in Washington's time, in 1791, and in 1811 had
prevented the renewal of its charter. They were, however, generally,
friends of the existing administration, whose position now called
strongly for the creation of a new bank; and, therefore, while they
usually voted on preliminary and incidental measures with the favourers
of a bank, they voted, on the final passage of the bill, against it; so
that it was much easier to defeat the whole of any one project, than to
carry through any modification of it. Second, there was a party
consisting almost entirely of friends of the administration, who wished
for a bank, provided it were such a one as they thought would not only
regulate the currency of the country, and facilitate the operations of
the government, but also afford present and important aid by heavy
loans, which the bank was to be compelled to make, and to enable it to
do which, it was to be relieved from the necessity of paying its notes
in specie;--in other words, it was a party that wished to authorize and
establish a paper currency for the whole country. The third party wished
for a bank with a moderate capital, compelled always to redeem its notes
with specie, and at liberty to judge for itself, when it would, and when
it would not, make loans to the government.

The second party, of course, was the one that introduced into Congress
the project for a bank at this time. The bill was originally presented
to the Senate; and its main features were, that the bank should absorb a
large amount of the depreciated public debt of the United States, and
grant to the government heavy loans on the security of a similar debt to
be created; that its capital should consist of fifty millions of
dollars, of which five millions only were to be specie, and the rest
depreciated government securities; and that the bank, when required,
should lend the government thirty millions. At the time when this plan
was brought forward, all the numerous state banks south of New-England
had refused to redeem their notes, or, as it was called "to ears
polite," had "suspended specie payments," in consequence of which, their
notes had fallen in value from 10 to 25 per cent., and specie, of
course, had risen proportionally in value, and disappeared from
circulation entirely. To afford the contemplated national bank any
chance for carrying on its operations, or even for beginning them, it
was to be authorized "to suspend specie payments," which meant, that it
was to be authorized never to begin them; for, without this authority,
their specie would be drained the moment their notes should be issued
equal to its amount. On the other hand, all the taxes and revenues of
the government were to be receivable in the paper of the bank, however
much it might fall in value. In short, the whole scheme was one of those
vast Serbonian bogs, where, from the days of Laws's Mississippi Company,
armies whole of legislators and projectors have sunk, without leaving
even a monument behind them to warn their followers of their fate.

We must not, however, be extravagantly astonished, that a project which
we now know was in its nature so wild and dangerous, should have found
favourers and advocates. The finances of the country were then in a
critical, and even distressing position; and all men were anxious to
devise some means to relieve them. A large part of the nation, too,
sincerely entertained the chimerical notion, now universally exploded,
that it was practicable to establish and maintain a safe and stable
paper currency, even when not convertible into specie at the pleasure of
the holder; and the example of England and its national bank was
referred to with effect, though, from its history since, the same
example could now be referred to with double effect on the other side of
the discussion. After an earnest and able debate, then, the bill, on the
whole, passed the Senate, and it was understood that a considerable
majority of the House of Representatives was in its favour.

When brought there on the 9th of December, 1814, it excited a very
animated discussion, which, with various interruptions from the forms
and rules of the House, references to committees, and occasional
adjournments, was continued till the 2d of January. In this protracted
debate Mr. Webster took a conspicuous part; and his efforts, of which
the speech now published is but an inconsiderable item, did much to
avert the threatened evil, and to establish his reputation, not merely
as an eloquent and powerful debater, which had already been settled in
the previous session, but as a sagacious and sound statesman.

His principal opposition to the bill was made on the last day of its
discussion. He then introduced a series of resolutions, bringing the
bank proposed within the limits of the specie-paying principle, and
taking off from it the restraints, which placed it too much within the
power of the government to make it useful as a monied institution,
either to the finances or to the commerce of the country. The objections
to the plan then before Congress, and the disasters that would probably
follow its adoption, he portrayed in the following strong language,
which none, however, will now think to have been too strong.

    "The capital of the bank, then, will be five millions of
    specie, and forty-five millions of government stocks. In
    other words, the bank will possess five millions of dollars,
    and the government will owe it forty-five millions. This
    debt from government, the bank is restrained from selling
    during the war, and government is excused from paying until
    it shall see fit. The bank is also to be under obligation to
    loan government thirty millions of dollars on demand, to be
    repaid, not when the convenience or necessity of the bank
    may require, but when debts due to the bank, from
    government, are paid; that is, when it shall be the good
    pleasure of government. This sum of thirty millions is to
    supply the necessities of government, and to supersede the
    occasion of other loans. This loan will doubtless be made on
    the first day of the existence of the bank, because the
    public wants can admit of no delay. Its condition, then,
    will be, that it has five millions of specie, if it has been
    able to obtain so much, and a debt of seventy-five millions,
    no part of which it can either sell or call in, due to it
    from government.

    "The loan of thirty millions to government, can only be made
    by an immediate issue of bills to that amount. If these
    bills should return, the bank will not be able to pay them.
    This is certain, and to remedy this inconvenience, power is
    given to the directors, by the act, to suspend, at their own
    discretion, the payment of their notes, until the President
    of the United States shall otherwise order. The President
    will give no such order, because the necessities of
    government will compel it to draw on the bank till the bank
    becomes as necessitous as itself. Indeed, whatever orders
    may be given or withheld it will be utterly impossible for
    the bank to pay its notes. No such thing is expected from
    it. The first note it issues will be dishonoured on its
    return, and yet it will continue to pour out its paper, so
    long as government can apply it in any degree to its
    purposes.

    "What sort of an institution, sir, is this? It looks less
    like a bank, than a department of government. It will be
    properly the paper-money department. Its capital is
    government debts; the amount of its issues will depend on
    government necessities; government, in effect, absolves
    itself from its own debts to the bank, and by way of
    compensation absolves the bank from its own contracts with
    others. This is, indeed, a wonderful scheme of finance. The
    government is to grow rich, because it is to borrow without
    the obligation of repaying, and is to borrow of a bank which
    issues paper, without liability to redeem it. If this bank,
    like other institutions which dull and plodding common sense
    has erected, were to pay its debts, it must have some limits
    to its issues of paper, and therefore, there would be a
    point beyond which it could not make loans to government.
    This would fall short of the wishes of the contrivers of
    this system. They provide for an unlimited issue of paper,
    in an entire exemption from payment. They found their bank,
    in the first place, on the discredit of government, and then
    hope to enrich government out of the insolvency of their
    bank. With them, poverty itself is the main source of
    supply, and bankruptcy a mine of inexhaustible treasure."
    Pp. 224-5.

The resolutions proposed by Mr. Webster, and supported in this speech,
were not passed. Probably he did not expect them to pass, when he
proposed them; but the same day, the main question was taken upon the
passage of the bill itself; and, as it was rejected by the casting vote
of the speaker, there can be no reasonable doubt, that without his
exertions this portentous absurdity would not have been defeated. It is
but justice, however, to the supporters of the measure, to say, that the
mischievous consequences of its adoption, were by no means so apparent
then as they are now. We have since had no little experience on the
whole matter. It required all the power and influence of the general
government, and of the present sound and specie-paying Bank of the
United States, acting vigorously in concert for several years after the
war, to relieve the country from the flood of depreciated notes of the
state banks with which it was inundated, and to restore a safe and
uniform currency. When or how this evil could have been remedied, if, at
the very close of the war, it had been almost indefinitely increased by
the establishment of a vast machine, issuing every day as much
irredeemable paper as would be taken at any and every discount, and thus
co-operating with the evil itself, instead of opposing it, is more than
any man will now be bold enough to conjecture. We should, no doubt, have
been in bondage to it to this hour, and probably left it as a yoke upon
the necks of our children.

But, at the time referred to, the necessities of the government were
urgent; and, on motion of Mr. Webster, the rule that prevented a
reconsideration at the same session of a subject thus disposed of, was
suspended the very next day, and a bill for a bank was on the same day,
January 3, recommitted to a select committee. On the 6th, the committee
reported a specie-paying bank, with a much diminished capital, which was
carried in the house, with the fewest possible forms, on the 7th; Mr.
Webster and most of his friends voting for it. It passed the senate,
too, though with some difficulty; but was refused by the president, on
the ground, that it was not sufficient to meet the exigencies of the
case, which, indeed, we now know, no bank would have been able to meet.
This project, however, being thus rejected, another was immediately
introduced into the senate, the basis of which was to be laid, like that
of the first bank proposed, in a paper currency. It passed that body;
but on being brought into the house met a severe and determined
opposition, which ceased only when, on the 17th, the news of peace being
received, the bill was indefinitely postponed.

Mr. Webster's exertions, however, on the subject of the currency, did
not cease with the overthrow of the paper bank system. He was re-elected
to New-Hampshire for the fourteenth Congress, and sat there during the
sessions of 1815-16; and 1816-17. The whole state of things in the
nation was now changed. The war was over, and the great purpose of sound
statesmanship was therefore to bring the healing and renovating
influences of peace into the administration and finances of the country.
The present bank was chartered in April 1816, and was placed,
substantially on the principles maintained in Mr. Webster's resolutions
of the preceding year. But still it seemed doubtful whether this
institution, however wisely managed, would alone have power enough to
restore a sound currency. The small depreciated notes of the state banks
south of New-England, still filled the land with their loathed
intrusion; and, what was worse, the revenue of the general government,
receivable at the different custom-houses, was collected in this
degraded paper, to the great injury of the finances of the country, and
to the still greater injury of the property of private individuals, who,
in different states, paid, of course, different rates of duties to the
treasury, according to the value of the paper medium in which it
happened to be received. Mr. Webster foresaw the mischiefs that must
follow from this state of things, if a remedy were not speedily applied.
He, therefore, in the same month of April 1816, introduced a resolution,
the effect of which was, to require the revenue of the United States to
be collected and received only in the legal currency of the United
States, or in bills equal to that currency in value.

In stating the nature of the evil, after showing by what means the paper
of the state banks south of New-England had become depreciated; he
says,--

    "What still farther increases the evil is, that this bank
    paper being the issue of very many institutions, situated in
    different parts of the country, and possessing different
    degrees of credit, the depreciation has not been, and is not
    now, uniform throughout the United States. It is not the
    same at Baltimore as at Philadelphia, nor the same at
    Philadelphia as at New-York. In New-England, the banks have
    not stopped payment in specie, and of course their paper has
    not been depressed at all. But the notes of banks which have
    ceased to pay specie, have nevertheless been, and still are,
    received for duties and taxes in the places where such banks
    exist. The consequence of all this is, that the people of
    the United States pay their duties and taxes in currencies
    of different values, in different places. In other words,
    taxes and duties are higher in some places than they are in
    others, by as much as the value of gold and silver is
    greater than the value of the several descriptions of bank
    paper which are received by government. This difference in
    relation to the paper of the District where we now are, is
    twenty-five per cent. Taxes and duties, therefore, collected
    in Massachusetts, are one quarter higher than the taxes and
    duties which are collected, by virtue of the same laws, in
    the District of Columbia." Pp. 233-4.

A little further on, after showing that if this state of things is not
changed by the government, it will be likely to change the government
itself, he adds,--

    "It is our business to foresee this danger, and to avoid it.
    There are some political evils which are seen as soon as
    they are dangerous, and which alarm at once as well the
    people as the government. Wars and invasions therefore are
    not always the most certain destroyers of national
    prosperity. They come in no questionable shape. They
    announce their own approach, and the general security is
    preserved by the general alarm. Not so with the evils of a
    debased coin, a depreciated paper currency, or a depressed
    and falling public credit. Not so with the plausible and
    insidious mischiefs of a paper money system. These insinuate
    themselves in the shape of facilities, accommodation, and
    relief. They hold out the most fallacious hope of an easy
    payment of debts, and a lighter burden of taxation. It is
    easy for a portion of the people to imagine that government
    may properly continue to receive depreciated paper, because
    they have received it, and because it is more convenient to
    obtain it than to obtain other paper, or specie. But on
    these subjects it is, that government ought to exercise its
    own peculiar wisdom and caution. It is supposed to possess
    on subjects of this nature, somewhat more of foresight than
    has fallen to the lot of individuals. It is bound to foresee
    the evil before every man feels it, and to take all
    necessary measures to guard against it, although they may be
    measures attended with some difficulty and not without
    temporary inconvenience. In my humble judgment, the evil
    demands the immediate attention of Congress. It is not
    certain, and in my opinion not probable, that it will ever
    cure itself. It is more likely to grow by indulgence, while
    the remedy which must in the end be applied, will become
    less efficacious by delay.

    "The only power which the general government possesses of
    restraining the issues of the state banks, is to refuse
    their notes in the receipts of the treasury. This power it
    can exercise now, or at least it can provide now for
    exercising in reasonable time, because the currency of some
    part of the country is yet sound, and the evil is not
    universal. If it should become universal, who, that
    hesitates now, will then propose any adequate means of
    relief? If a measure, like the bill of yesterday, or the
    resolutions of to-day, can hardly pass here now, what hope
    is there that any efficient measure will be adopted
    hereafter?" pp. 235-6.

The doctrine of this speech is as important as it is true. A sound and
uniform currency is essential, not only for the convenient and safe
management of the fiscal concerns of a government; but, no less so, for
the security of private property. It is, indeed, at once the standard
and basis of all transfer and exchange; and, whenever the circulating
medium has become much deranged in any country, it has been found an
arduous, and sometimes a dangerous task, to restore it to a sound state.
The effort almost necessarily brings on a conflict between the two great
classes of debtor and creditor, into which every community is
divided,--the creditor claiming the highest standard of value in the
currency, and the debtor the lowest; and the results of such a conflict
have not unfrequently been found in changes, convulsions, and political
revolution. From such a conflict we were saved in this country, by the
defeat of the paper-currency bank proposed in 1814,--by the
establishment of the present specie paying bank, and by the adoption of
Mr. Webster's resolution, which was approved by the President on the
30th of April, 1816.

It was at this period, however, that Mr. Webster determined to change
his residence, and, of course, to retire for a time at least, from
public life. He had now lived in Portsmouth nine years; and they had
been to him years of great happiness in his private relations, and, in
his relations to the country, years of remarkable advancement and
honour. But, in the disastrous fire, which, in 1813, destroyed a large
part of that devoted town, he had sustained a heavy loss, which the
means and opportunities offered by his profession in New Hampshire were
not likely to repair. He determined, therefore, to establish himself in
a larger capital, where his resources would be more ample, and, in the
summer of 1816, removed to Boston, where he has ever since resided.

His object now was professional occupation, and he devoted himself to it
for six or eight years exclusively, with unremitting assiduity, refusing
to accept office, or to mingle in political discussion. His success
corresponded to his exertions. He was already known as a distinguished
lawyer in his native state; and the two terms he had served in Congress,
had placed him, notwithstanding his comparative youth, among the
prominent statesmen of the country. His rank as a jurist, in the general
regard of the nation, was now no less speedily determined. Like many
other eminent members of the profession, however, who have rarely been
able to select at first what cases should be entrusted to them, it was
not for him to arrange or determine the time and the occasion, when his
powers should be decisively measured and made known. We must, therefore,
account it for a fortunate accident, though perhaps one of those
accidents granted only to talent like his, that the occasion was the
well known case of Dartmouth College; and, we must add, as a
circumstance no less fortunate, that the forum where he was called to
defend the principles of this great cause, and where he did defend them
so triumphantly, was that of the Supreme Court of the United States, at
Washington.

There is, indeed, something peculiar in this grave national tribunal,
especially with regard to the means and motives it offers to call out
distinguished talent, and try and confirm a just reputation, which is
worth notice. The judges themselves, selected from among the great
jurists of the country, as above ignorance, weakness, and the
temptations of political ambition,--with that venerable man at their
head, who for thirty years has been the ornament of the government, and,
in whose wisdom has been, in no small degree, the hiding of its
power--constitute a tribunal, which may be truly called solemn and
august. The advocates, too, who appear before it, are no less a chosen
few, full of talent and skill, and eager with ambition, who go there
from all the ends of the country, to discuss the gravest and most
important interests both public and private,--to settle the conflicts
between domestic and foreign jurisprudence, or the more perilous
conflicts between the authority of the individual states, and that of
the general government;--in short, to return constantly upon the first
great principles of national and municipal adjudication, and take heed,
that, whatever is determined shall rest only on the deep and sure
foundations of truth, right, and law. And, finally, if we turn from the
bench and the bar, to the audience which is collected around them, we
shall find again much that is remarkable, and even imposing. We shall
find, that, large as it is, it is gathered together from a city not
populous, where every thing, even the resources of fashion, must have a
direct dependence on the operations of government; and where the
senators themselves, and the representatives of foreign powers, no less
than the crowds collected during the session of Congress, by the
solicitations of an enlightened curiosity, or of a strenuous indolence,
can, after all, discover no resort so full of a stirring interest and
excitement, as that of the Supreme Court, into whose arena such
practised and powerful gladiators daily descend, rejoicing in the
combat. Taking it in all its connexions, then, we look upon this highest
tribunal of the country, not only to be solemn and imposing in itself,
but to be one of peculiar power over the reputations of these jurists
and advocates, who appear before it, and who must necessarily feel
themselves to be standing singularly in presence of the nation,
represented there as it is, in almost every way, and by almost every
class, from the fashion and beauty lounging on the sofas in the recesses
of the court-room, up to the eager antagonists, who are impatiently
waiting their time to contend for the mastery on some great interest or
principle, and the judges who are ultimately to decide it.

Mr. Webster had already appeared once or twice before this
tribunal;--but not in any cause which had called seriously into action
the powers of his mind. The case of Dartmouth College, however, was one
that might well task the faculties of any man. That institution, founded
originally by charter from the king of Great Britain, had been in
successful operation nearly half a century, when, in 1816, the
Legislature of New Hampshire, from some movements in party politics, was
induced, without the consent of the college, to annul its charter, and,
by several acts, to give it a new incorporation and name. The trustees
of the college resisted this interference; and, in 1817, commenced an
action in the state courts, which was decided against them. A writ of
error was then sued out by the original plaintiffs, to remove the cause
for its final adjudication, to the Supreme Court of the United States;
and it came on there for argument in March, 1818.

The court room was excessively crowded, not only with a large assemblage
of the eminent lawyers of the Union, but with many of its leading
statesmen,--drawn there no less by the importance of the cause, and the
wide results that would follow its decision, than by the known eloquence
of Mr. Hopkinson and Mr. Wirt, both of whom were engaged in it. Mr.
Webster opened it, on behalf of the college. The question turned mainly
on the point, whether the acts of the Legislature of New-Hampshire, in
relation to Dartmouth College, constituted a violation of a contract;
for, if they did, then they were contrary to the Constitution of the
United States. The principles involved, therefore, went to determine the
extent to which a legislature can exercise authority over the chartered
rights of all corporations; and this of course gave the case an
importance at the time, and a value since, paramount to that of almost
any other in the books. Mr. Webster's argument is given in this volume
at p. 110, et seq.; that is, we have there the technical outline, the
dry skeleton of it. But those who heard him, when it was originally
delivered, still wonder how such dry bones could ever have lived with
the power they there witnessed and felt. He opened his cause, as he
always does, with perfect simplicity in the general statement of its
facts; and then went on to unfold the topics of his argument, in a lucid
order, which made each position sustain every other. The logic and the
law were rendered irresistible. But, as he advanced, his heart warmed to
the subject and the occasion. Thoughts and feelings, that had grown old
with his best affections, rose unbidden to his lips. He remembered that
the institution he was defending, was the one where his own youth had
been nurtured; and the moral tenderness and beauty this gave to the
grandeur of his thoughts; the sort of religious sensibility it imparted
to his urgent appeals and demands for the stern fulfilment of what law
and justice required, wrought up the whole audience to an extraordinary
state of excitement. Many betrayed strong agitation; many were dissolved
in tears. When he ceased to speak, there was a perceptible interval
before any one was willing to break the silence; and, when that vast
crowd separated, not one person of the whole number doubted, that the
man who had that day so moved, astonished, and controlled them, had
vindicated for himself a place at the side of the first jurists of the
country.

From this period, therefore, Mr. Webster's attendance on the Supreme
Court at Washington has been constantly secured by retainers, in the
most important causes; and the circle of his professional business,
which has been regularly enlarging, has not been exceeded, if it has
been equalled, by that of any other lawyer who has ever appeared in the
national forum. The volume before us contains few traces of all this. It
contains, however, two arguments upon constitutional questions of great
interest and wide results. One is the case of Gibbons _vs._ Ogden, in
1824, involving the question, how far a state has authority to grant the
exclusive right of navigating the tide-waters within its territorial
limits; refusing that right to all persons belonging to other states, as
well as to its own citizens. This question struck, of course, at the
great steam-boat monopoly granted by the state of New-York, from motives
of public munificence, to Mr. Fulton, the admirable first mover of that
national benefit, and Chancellor Livingston, its early and adventurous
patron. The case was argued by Mr. Webster and Mr. Wirt against the
monopoly, and by Mr. Oakley and Mr. Emmet for it; so that probably as
much ability was brought into the discussion on each side, as has been
called for by any single cause in our judicial annals. The result was,
that the monopoly was declared to be unconstitutional; and thus another
great national blessing was obtained, hardly less important than the
original invention,--that of throwing open the right to steam-navigation
to the competition of the whole Union.

There were circumstances which gave uncommon interest to this cause,
independently of its great constitutional importance, and the wide
consequences involved in it. It had been litigated, during a series of
years, in every form, in the state courts of New-York, where the
monopoly had triumphed over all opposition. And it need hardly be said,
that the state courts of New-York have maintained as proud a reputation
for learning, research, and talent, as any in the Union. What lawyer has
not sat gladly at the feet of Chancellor Kent, and Chief Justice
Spencer? And what state, in relation to her jurisprudence, can so boldly
say--

    "Quæ regio in terris nostri non plena laboris?"

Mr. Webster's argument in the opening of this case,--which was closed
with great power by the Attorney-General, Mr. Wirt,--furnishes, even in
the meagre outline still preserved, p. 170-184, a specimen of some of
the characteristics of his mind. We here see his clearness and downright
simplicity in stating facts; his acute suggestion and analysis of
difficulties; his peculiar power of disentangling complicated
propositions, and resolving them into elements so plain, as to be
intelligible to the simplest minds; and his wariness not to be betrayed
into untenable positions, or to spread his forces over useless ground.
We see him, indeed, fortifying himself, as it were, strongly within the
narrowest limits of his cause, concentrating his strength, and ready at
any moment to enter, like a skilful general, at all the weak points of
his adversary's position. This argument, therefore, especially as it was
originally pronounced in court, we look upon, as a whole, to have been
equally remarkable for depth and sagacity; for the choice and
comprehensiveness of the topics; and for the power and tact exhibited in
their discussion. Yet we are carried along so quietly by its deep
current, that, like Partridge in Tom Jones, when he saw Garrick act
Hamlet, all seems to us so spontaneous, so completely without effort,
that we are convinced, nay, we feel sure, there is neither artifice nor
mystery, extraordinary power nor genius, in the whole matter. But, to
those who are familiar with Mr. Webster, and the workings of his mind,
it is well known, that, in this very plainness; in this earnest pursuit
of truth for truth's sake, and of the principles of law for the sake of
right and justice, and in his obvious desire to reach them all by the
most direct and simple means, is to be found no small part of the secret
of his power. It is this, in fact, above every thing else, that makes
him so prevalent with the jury; and, not only with the jury in court,
but with the great jury of the whole people.

The same general remarks are applicable to his argument in the case of
Ogden against Saunders, in 1827, which we notice now, out of the regular
series of events, in order to finish at once the little we can say of
his professional career as a lawyer. The case to which we now refer,
involved the question of the constitutionality of state insolvent laws,
when they purported to absolve the party from the obligation of the
_contract_, as well as from personal _imprisonment_, on execution. In a
legal and constitutional point of view, this has always been thought one
of Mr. Webster's ablest and most convincing arguments. With the court he
was only half successful; there being a remarkable diversity of opinion
among the judges. But, taken in connexion with the opinion of Chief
Justice Marshall, delivered in the case, with which Mr. Webster's
argument coincides, both in reasoning and in conclusion, it seems
absolutely to have exhausted the whole range of the discussion on that
side, and to furnish all that future inquirers can need to master the
question.

But, during the years we have just passed over, Mr. Webster's success
was not confined to the bar. In the year 1820-21, a convention of
delegates was assembled in Boston, to revise the constitution of
Massachusetts. As it was one of those primary assemblies, where no
office disqualifies from membership, and as the occasion was one of the
rarest importance, the talent and wisdom, the fortunes and authority of
that commonwealth were, to a singular degree, collected in it. The
venerable John Adams, then above eighty-five years old, represented his
native village; Mr. Justice Story, of the Supreme Court of the United
States, was a delegate from Salem; Judge Davis, of the District Court of
the United States, and the greater part of the judicial officers of the
state were there, as well as a large number of the leading members of
the Massachusett's bar, and a still larger number of its wealthiest or
most prominent land-holders and merchants. No assembly of equal dignity
and talent was ever collected in that commonwealth. Mr. Webster was one
of the delegates from Boston. What influence he exerted, or how
beneficial, or how extensive it was, can be entirely known only there
where it was put forth. But, if we may judge from the important
committees on which he served; the prominent interests and individuals
his duty called him occasionally to defend, to encounter, and to oppose;
and the business-like air of his short remarks, which are scattered up
and down through the whole volume of the "Journal of Debates and
Proceedings" of this convention, published soon afterwards, we should be
led to believe, that, though he was then but a newly adopted child of
Massachusetts, he had already gained a degree of confidence, respect and
authority, to which few in that ancient commonwealth could lay claim.
The fruits of it all, in the present volume, are, a short speech on
"Oaths of Office;" another on "the removal of Judges upon the address of
two-thirds of each branch of the Legislature;" and a more ample and very
powerful one on the "Principle of representation in the Senate." They
are all strong and striking; and it would be easy to extract something
from each, characteristic of its author; but we have not room, and must
content ourselves with referring, for a specimen of the whole, to the
remarks on the free schools of New-England, from the speech in the
Senate, which we have already cited; adding merely, that, to this
remarkable speech of Mr. Webster, and to another of great beauty and
force, by Mr. Justice Story, was ascribed, at the time, a change in the
opinions and vote of the convention, which, considering the importance
of the subject, and the long discussion it had undergone, was all but
unprecedented.[6]

While this convention was still in session, a great anniversary came
round at the north. The two hundredth year from the first landing of the
Pilgrims at Plymouth, was completed on the 22d of December, 1820; and
every man born in New-England, or in whose veins stirred a drop of
New-England blood, felt that he had an interest in the event it
recalled, and demanded its grateful celebration. Preparations,
therefore, for its commemoration, on the spot where it occurred, were
made long beforehand; and, by the sure indication of the public will,
and at the special invitation of the Pilgrim Society, Mr. Webster was
summoned as the man who should go to the Rock of Plymouth, and there so
speak of the centuries past, as that the centuries to come should still
receive and heed his words. Undoubtedly he amply fulfilled the
expectations that waited on this great occasion. His address, which
opens the present volume, is one of the gravest productions it contains.
He seems to feel that the ground on which he stands is holy; and the
deep moral sensibility, and even religious solemnity, which pervade many
parts of this striking discourse,--where he seems to have collected the
experience of all the past, in order to minister warning and
encouragement to all the future,--is in perfect harmony with the scene
and the occasion, and produced its appropriate effect on the multitude
elected, even at that inclement season, from the body of the New-England
states, to offer up thanksgivings for their descent from the Pilgrim
fathers. The effect, too, at the time, has been justified by a wider
success since; and the multiplied editions of the printed discourse,
while they have carried it into the farm-houses and hearts of the
New-England yeomanry, are at the same time ensuring its passage onward
to the next generation and the next, who may be well satisfied, when the
same jubilee comes round, if they can leave behind them monuments
equally imposing, to mark the lapse and revolutions of ages.

It would not be difficult to select eloquent passages from this
discourse. We prefer, however, to take one containing what was then a
plain and adventurous prediction; but what is now passing into history
before our very eyes. We allude to the remarks on the principle of the
subdivision of property in France, as affecting the permanency of the
French government, which Mr. Webster ventured to call in question, on
the same general grounds, on which he undertook to prove the permanency
of our own.

    "A most interesting experiment of the effect of a
    subdivision of property on government, is now making in
    France. It is understood, that the law regulating the
    transmission of property, in that country, now divides it,
    real and personal, among all the children, equally, both
    sons and daughters; and that there is, also, a very great
    restraint on the power of making dispositions of property by
    will. It has been supposed, that the effects of this might
    probably be, in time, to break up the soil into such small
    subdivisions, that the proprietors would be too poor to
    resist the encroachments of executive power. I think far
    otherwise. What is lost in individual wealth, will be more
    than gained in numbers, in intelligence, and in a sympathy
    of sentiment. If, indeed, only one, or a few landholders
    were to resist the crown, like the barons of England, they
    must, of course, be great and powerful landholders with
    multitudes of retainers, to promise success. But if the
    proprietors of a given extent of territory are summoned to
    resistance, there is no reason to believe that such
    resistance would be less forcible, or less successful,
    because the number of such proprietors should be great. Each
    would perceive his own importance, and his own interest, and
    would feel that natural elevation of character which the
    consciousness of property inspires. A common sentiment would
    unite all, and numbers would not only add strength, but
    excite enthusiasm. It is true, that France possesses a vast
    military force, under the direction of an hereditary
    executive government, and military power, it is possible,
    may overthrow any government. It is in vain, however, in
    this period of the world, to look for security against
    military power, to the arm of the great landholders. That
    notion is derived from a state of things long since past; a
    state in which a feudal baron, with his retainers, might
    stand against the sovereign, who was himself but the
    greatest baron, and his retainers. But at present, what
    could the richest landholder do, against one regiment of
    disciplined troops? Other securities, therefore, against the
    prevalence of military power must be provided. Happily for
    us, we are not so situated as that any purpose of national
    defence requires, ordinarily and constantly, such a military
    force as might seriously endanger our liberties.

    "In respect, however, to the recent law of succession in
    France, to which I have alluded, _I would, presumptuously,
    perhaps, hazard a conjecture, that if the government do not
    change the law, the law, in half a century, will change the
    government; and that this change will be not in favour of
    the power of the crown, as some European writers have
    supposed, but against it_. Those writers only reason upon
    what they think correct general principles, in relation to
    this subject. They acknowledge a want of experience. Here we
    have had that experience; and we know that a multitude of
    small proprietors, acting with intelligence, and that
    enthusiasm which a common cause inspires, constitute not
    only a formidable, but an invincible power." Pp. 47-8.

In less than six years from the time when this statesman-like prediction
was made, the King of France, at the opening of the Legislative
Chambers, thus strangely and portentously echoed it,

    "Legislation ought to provide by successive improvements,
    for all the wants of society. _The progressive partitioning
    of landed estates essentially contrary to the spirit of a
    monarchical government_ would enfeeble the guaranties which
    the charter has given to my throne and to my subjects.
    Measures will be proposed to you, gentlemen, to establish
    the consistency which ought to exist between the political
    law and the civil law; and to preserve the patrimony of
    families, without restricting the liberty of disposing of
    one's property. The preservation of families is connected
    with, and affords a guaranty to political stability, which
    is the first want of states, and which is especially that of
    France after so many vicissitudes."

But the discovery came too late. The foundations, on which to build or
sustain the cumbrous system of the old monarchy, were already taken
away; and the events of the last summer, while they would almost
persuade us, that the "Attendant Spirit" so boldly given by the orator
in this very discourse to one of the great founders of our government,
had opened to him, also, on the Rock of Plymouth, "a vision of the
future;"[7]--these events, we say, can leave little doubt in the mind of
any man, that the speaker himself may live long enough,--as God grant he
may!--to witness the entire fulfilment of his own extraordinary
prophecy, and to see the French people erecting for themselves a sure
and stable government, suited to the foundation, on which alone it can
now rest.

In 1825, Mr. Webster was called to interpret the feelings of
New-England, on another great festival and anniversary. Fifty years from
the day, when the grave drama of the American Revolution was opened with
such picturesque solemnity, as a magnificent show on Bunker's Hill,
witnessed by the whole neighbouring city and country, clustering by
thousands on their steeples, the roofs of their houses, and the
hill-tops, and waiting with unspeakable anxiety the results of the scene
that was passing before their eyes,--fifty years from that day, it was
determined to lay, with no less solemnity, the corner stone of a
monument worthy to commemorate its importance. An immense multitude was
assembled. They stood on that consecrated spot, with only the heavens
over their heads, and beneath their feet the bones of their fathers;
amidst the visible remains of the very redoubt thrown up by Prescott,
and defended by him to the very last desperate extremity;[8] and with
the names of Warren, Putnam, Stark, and Brooks, and the other leaders or
victims of that great day frequent and familiar on their lips. In the
midst of such a scene and with such recollections, starting like the
spirits of the dead from the very sods of that hill-side, it may well be
imagined, that words like the following, addressed to a vast
audience,--composed in no small degree of the survivors of the battle,
their children, and their grandchildren,--produced an effect, which only
the hand of death can efface.

    "We know, indeed, that the record of illustrious actions is
    most safely deposited in the universal remembrance of
    mankind. We know, that if we could cause this structure to
    ascend, not only till it reached the skies, but till it
    pierced them, its broad surfaces could still contain but
    part of that, which, in an age of knowledge, hath already
    been spread over the earth, and which history charges itself
    with making known to all future times. We know, that no
    inscription on entablatures less broad than the earth
    itself, can carry information of the events we commemorate,
    where it has not already gone; and that no structure, which
    shall not outlive the duration of letters and knowledge
    among men, can prolong the memorial. But our object is, by
    this edifice, to show our own deep sense of the value and
    importance of the achievements of our ancestors; and, by
    presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, to keep alive
    similar sentiments, and to foster a constant regard for the
    principles of the Revolution. Human beings are composed not
    of reason only, but of imagination also, and sentiment; and
    that is neither wasted nor misapplied which is appropriated
    to the purpose of giving right direction to sentiments, and
    opening proper springs of feeling in the heart. Let it not
    be supposed that our object is to perpetuate national
    hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It is
    higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work to the spirit
    of national independence, and we wish that the light of
    peace may rest upon it for ever. We rear a memorial of our
    conviction of that unmeasured benefit, which has been
    conferred on our own land, and of the happy influences,
    which have been produced, by the same events, on the general
    interests of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot,
    which must for ever be dear to us and our posterity. We
    wish, that whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye
    hither, may behold that the place is not undistinguished,
    where the first great battle of the Revolution was fought.
    We wish, that this structure may proclaim the magnitude and
    importance of that event, to every class and every age. We
    wish, that infancy may learn the purpose of its erection
    from maternal lips, and that weary and withered age may
    behold it, and be solaced by the recollections which it
    suggests. We wish, that labour may look up here, and be
    proud, in the midst of its toil. We wish, that, in those
    days of disaster, which, as they come on all nations, must
    be expected to come on us also, desponding patriotism may
    turn its eyes hitherward, and be assured that the
    foundations of our national power still stand strong. We
    wish, that this column, rising towards heaven among the
    pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may
    contribute also to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling of
    dependence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last
    object on the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and
    the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something
    which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his
    country. Let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming;
    let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting
    day linger and play on its summit." Pp. 58-9.

The last formal address delivered by Mr. Webster on any great public
occasion, was unexpectedly called from him in the summer of 1826, in
commemoration of the services of Adams and Jefferson;--an occasion so
remarkable, that what was said and felt on it, will not pass out of the
memories of the present generation. We shall, therefore, only make one
short extract from Mr. Webster's address at Faneuil Hall--the
description of the peculiar eloquence of Mr. Adams, in giving which, the
speaker becomes, himself, a living example of what he describes.

    "The eloquence of Mr. Adams resembled his general character,
    and formed, indeed, a part of it. It was bold, manly, and
    energetic; and such the crisis required. When public bodies
    are to be addressed on momentous occasions, when great
    interests are at stake, and strong passions excited, nothing
    is valuable, in speech, farther than it is connected with
    high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force,
    and earnestness are the qualities which produce conviction.
    True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It
    cannot be brought from far. Labour and learning may toil for
    it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be
    marshalled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must
    exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion.
    Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of
    declamation, all may aspire after it--they cannot reach it.
    It comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a
    fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic
    fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. The graces
    taught in the schools, the costly ornaments, and studied
    contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their
    own lives, and the fate of their wives, their children, and
    their country, hang on the decision of the hour. Then words
    have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate
    oratory contemptible. Even genius itself, then feels
    rebuked, and subdued, as in the presence of higher
    qualities. Then, patriotism is eloquent; then, self-devotion
    is eloquent. The clear conception, outrunning the deductions
    of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless
    spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye,
    informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward,
    right onward to his object--this, this is eloquence; or
    rather it is something greater and higher than all
    eloquence, it is action, noble, sublime, god-like action."
    page 84.

During a part, however, of the period, over which we have thus very
slightly passed, Mr. Webster was again in public life. He was elected to
represent the city of Boston, in the seventeenth Congress, and took his
seat there in December, 1823. Early in the session, he presented a
resolution in favour of appointing a commissioner or agent to Greece;
and the resolution being taken up on the 19th of January following, Mr.
Webster delivered the speech, which usually passes under the name of
"the Greek Speech." His object, however, in presenting the resolution,
did not seem, at first, to be well understood. It was believed, that,
seeing the existence of a warm public sympathy for the suffering Greeks,
and solicited by the attractions of the subject itself, and of the
classical associations awakened by it, his object was to parade a few
sentences and figures, and so make an oration or harangue, which might
usher him, with some _éclat_, a second time, upon the theatre of public
affairs. The galleries, therefore, were thronged with a brilliant and
fashionable audience. But the crowd was destined to be disappointed;--Mr.
Webster, after a graceful and conciliating introduction, in which he
evidently disclaimed any such purpose, addressed himself at once to the
subject, and made, what he always makes, a powerful, but a downright
business speech. His object, instead of being the narrow one suggested
for him, was apparent, as he advanced, to be the broadest possible. It
was nothing less, than to take occasion of the Greek revolution, and the
conduct pursued in regard to it by the great continental powers, in
order to exhibit the principles laid down and avowed by those powers, as
the basis on which they intended to maintain the peace of Europe. In
doing this, he went through a very able examination of the proceedings
of all the famous Congresses, beginning with that of Paris, in 1814, and
coming down to that of Laybach, in 1821;--the principles of all which
were, that the people hold their fundamental rights and privileges, as
matter of concession and indulgence from the sovereign power; and that
all sovereign powers have a right to interfere and controul other
nations, in their desires and attempts to change their own
governments:--

    "The ultimate effect of this alliance of sovereigns, for
    objects personal to themselves, or respecting only the
    permanency of their own power, must be the destruction of
    all just feeling, and all natural sympathy, between those
    who exercise the power of government, and those who are
    subject to it. The old channels of mutual regard and
    confidence are to be dried up, or cut off. Obedience can now
    be expected no longer than it is enforced. Instead of
    relying on the affections of the governed, sovereigns are to
    rely on the affections and friendship of other sovereigns.
    They are, in short, no longer to be nations. Princes and
    people no longer are to unite for interests common to them
    both. There is to be an end of all patriotism, as a distinct
    national feeling. Society is to be divided horizontally; all
    sovereigns above, and all subjects below; the former
    coalescing for their own security, and for the more certain
    subjection of the undistinguished multitude beneath." page
    249.

But, as he says afterwards,--

    "This reasoning mistakes the age. The time has been, indeed,
    when fleets, and armies, and subsidies, were the principal
    reliances even in the best cause. But, happily for mankind,
    there has arrived a great change in this respect. Moral
    causes come into consideration, in proportion as the
    progress of knowledge is advanced; and the _public opinion_
    of the civilized world is rapidly gaining an ascendency over
    mere brutal force. It is already able to oppose the most
    formidable obstruction to the progress of injustice and
    oppression; and, as it grows more intelligent and more
    intense, it will be more and more formidable. It may be
    silenced by military power, but it cannot be conquered. It
    is elastic, irrepressible, and invulnerable to the weapons
    of ordinary warfare. It is that impassable, unextinguishable
    enemy of mere violence and arbitrary rule, which, like
    Milton's angels,

                    'Vital in every part,
        Cannot, but by annihilating, die.'

    "Until this be propitiated or satisfied, it is vain for
    power to talk either of triumphs or of repose. No matter
    what fields are desolated, what fortresses surrendered, what
    armies subdued, or what provinces overrun. In the history of
    the year that has passed by us, and in the instance of
    unhappy Spain, we have seen the vanity of all triumphs, in a
    cause which violates the general sense of justice of the
    civilized world. It is nothing, that the troops of France
    have passed from the Pyrenees to Cadiz; it is nothing that
    an unhappy and prostrate nation has fallen before them; it
    is nothing that arrests, and confiscation, and execution,
    sweep away the little remnant of national resistance. There
    is an enemy that still exists to check the glory of these
    triumphs. It follows the conqueror back to the very scene of
    his ovations; it calls upon him to take notice that Europe,
    though silent, is yet indignant; it shows him that the
    sceptre of his victory is a barren sceptre; that it shall
    confer neither joy nor honour, but shall moulder to dry
    ashes in his grasp. In the midst of his exultation, it
    pierces his ear with the cry of injured justice, it
    denounces against him the indignation of an enlightened and
    civilized age; it turns to bitterness the cup of his
    rejoicing, and wounds him with the sting which belongs to
    the consciousness of having outraged the opinion of mankind.

    "In my own opinion, Sir, the Spanish nation is now nearer,
    not only in point of time, but in point of circumstance, to
    the acquisition of a regulated government, than at the
    moment of the French invasion. Nations must, no doubt,
    undergo these trials in their progress to the establishment
    of free institutions. The very trials benefit them, and
    render them more capable both of obtaining and of enjoying
    the object which they seek." page 253.

How completely does the mighty drama now passing before our eyes on the
great theatre of Europe, justify these hold and sagacious predictions! A
great revolution has just taken place in France, and a distinguished
prince, out of the regular line of succession, has been invited to the
throne, _on condition_ of governing according to the constitution
prescribed by the representatives of the popular will. Belgium is doing
the same thing. Devoted Poland has attempted it. Italy is in
confusion,--and Germany disturbed and uneasy;--so that, it seems already
no longer to be in the power of any conspiracy of kings or Congresses,
to maintain permanently in Western Europe, a government not essentially
founded on free institutions and principles. We will only add, that Mr.
Webster has, on hardly any other occasion, entered into the discussion
of European politics; and the consequence has been, that, if this speech
has found less favour at home than some of his other efforts, it is one,
that has brought him great honour abroad; since, besides being printed
wherever the English tongue is spoken, it has been circulated through
South America, and published in nearly every one of the civilized
languages of Europe, including the Spanish and the Greek.

In April, 1824, he took a part in the great discussion of the tariff
question; and his speech on that occasion, as well as the one he
delivered on the same subject in May, 1828, are both given in the volume
before us. But the whole matter is so fresh in the recollections of the
community, and Mr. Webster's constant defence of a tariff adapted to the
general interests of the country, encouraging alike the cause of
American manufactures and the interests of commerce, are so well known,
from the first tariff of 1816, to the present moment, that it cannot be
needful to speak of them. We would remark, however, that, in the speech
of 1824, two subjects are discussed with great ability;--the doctrine of
exchange, and the balance of trade. Both of them had been drawn into
controversy in Congress, on previous occasions, quite frequently,
calling forth alternately "an infinite deal of nothing," and the crudest
absurdities; but, from the period of this thorough and statesmanlike
examination of them, they have, we believe, hardly been heard of in
either house. The great points involved in both of them, have been
considered as settled.

We have thus far spoken of Mr. Webster almost entirely as a public
orator and debater, or as a jurist. But there is another point of view,
in which he is less known to the nation, but no less valued at
Washington. He has few equals in the diligence of the committee-rooms.
Reputation in and out of Congress, is, in this respect, very differently
measured. Nothing is more common in either House than moderately good
speakers, prompt in common debate, and sufficiently well instructed not
to betray themselves into contempt with the public. Because they _can_
speak and _do_ speak; and especially because they speak _often_ and
_vehemently_, they obtain a transient credit abroad for far more than
they are worth, and far more than they are, at last, able to maintain.
It may, indeed, be said, as a general truth, that those who speak most
frequently in Congress are least heeded, and least entitled to
distinction. Members of real ability speak rarely; and, when they do
speak, it is from the fulness of their minds, after a careful
consideration of the subject, and with a deference for the body they
address, and a regard to the public service, which does not permit them
to occupy more time than the development of their subject absolutely
requires. They are, therefore, always heard with attention and respect;
and often with the conviction, that they may be safely followed.

But there is another class in Congress, less known to the public at
large, and yet whose services are beyond price. We speak now of those
excellent men, who, as chairmen and members of the committees, in the
retired corners of the capitol, are doing the real business of
legislation, and giving their days and nights to maturing schemes of
wise policy and just relief; men who are content, week after week, and
month after month, to sacrifice themselves to the negative toil of
saving us from the follies of indiscreet, meddlesome, and ignorant
innovators, or from the more presumptuous purposes of those who would
make legislation the means of furthering and gratifying their own
private, unprincipled ambition. Such business-men,--who should be the
heads of the working party, if such a party should ever be formed,--are
well understood within the walls of Congress. They are marked by the
general confidence that follows them; and when they speak, to propose a
measure, they are listened to; nay, it may almost be said, they are
obeyed.

Mr. Webster has long been known as an efficient labourer in these
noiseless toils of the committee-rooms and of practical legislation; and
we owe to his hand not a few important improvements in our laws. The
most remarkable is, probably, the Crimes-Act of 1825, which, in
twenty-six sections, did so much for the criminal code of the country.
The whole subject, when he approached it, was full of difficulties and
deficiencies. The law in relation to it remained substantially on the
foundation of the first great Act of 1790, ch. 36. That act, however,
though deserving praise as a first attempt to meet the wants of the
country, was entirely unsuited to its condition, and deficient in most
important particulars. Its defects, indeed, were so numerous, that half
the most notorious crimes, when committed where the general government
alone could have cognizance of them, were left beyond the reach of human
law and punishment;--rape, burglary, arson and other malicious burnings
in forts, arsenals, and light-house establishments, together with many
other offences, being wholly unprovided for. Mr. Webster's Act, which,
as a just tribute to his exertions, already bears his name, cures these
gross defects, besides a multitude of others; and it was well known at
the time, that he wished to go much further, and give a competent system
to the country on the whole criminal code, but was deterred by the
danger of failure, if he attempted too much at once. Indeed, the
difficulty of obtaining a patient hearing for any bill of such
complexity and extent, is well understood in Congress; and it is not,
perhaps, an unjust reproach upon our national legislature to confess,
that even the most experienced statesmen are rarely able to carry
through any great measure of purely practical improvement. Temporary
projects, and party strifes, and private claims, and individual
jealousies, and, above all, the passion for personal display in
everlasting debate, offer obstacles to the success of mere patriotism
and statesmanship, which are all but insurmountable. Probably no man, at
that time, but Mr. Webster, who, in addition to his patient habits of
labour in the committee-room, possessed the general confidence of the
House, and had a persevering address and promptitude in answering
objections, could have succeeded in so signal an undertaking. Sir Samuel
Romilly and Mr. Peel have acquired lasting and merited reputations in
England for meliorations of their criminal code. But they had a willing
audience, and an eager support. Mr. Webster, without either, effected as
much in his Crimes-Act of 1825, as has been effected by any single
effort of these statesmen, and is fairly to be ranked with them among
those benefactors of mankind, who have enlightened the jurisprudence of
their country, and made it at once more efficient and more humane.

At the same session of Congress, the great question of internal
improvements came up, and was vehemently discussed in January, on the
appropriation made for the western national road. Mr. Webster defended
the principle, as he had already defended it in 1816; and as he has
defended it constantly since, down to the last year and the last
session, without, so far as we have seen, receiving any sufficient
answer to the positions he took in debate on these memorable occasions.
Perhaps the doctrine he has so uniformly maintained on this subject, is
less directly favourable to the interests of the northern than of the
western states; but it was high-toned and national throughout, and seems
in no degree to have impaired the favour with which he was regarded in
New-England. At any rate, he was re-elected, with singular unanimity, to
represent the city of Boston in the nineteenth Congress, and took his
seat there anew in December, 1825.

In both sessions of this Congress, important subjects were discussed,
and Mr. Webster bore an important part in them; but we can now only
suggest one or two of them. As chairman of the Judiciary Committee, he
introduced the bill for enlarging the number of judges of the Supreme
Court of the United States. His views in relation to it are contained in
the remarks he made on the occasion, and had great weight with the
House; but the bill was afterwards lost through an amendment of the
Senate. So, too, on the question of the Panama mission, involving the
points that were first moved in 1796 in the House of Representatives, on
occasion of the British Treaty, Mr. Webster has left on record his
opinions, doctrines, and feelings, in a speech of great beauty and
power, which will always be recurred to, whenever the right of the House
of Representatives to advise the executive in relation to the management
of foreign missions may come under discussion. But we are compelled to
abstain from any further notice of them both, by want of room.

In 1826, he had been elected, we believe, all but unanimously, to
represent the City of Boston, in the House of Representatives; but,
before he took his seat, a vacancy having occurred in the Senate, he was
chosen to fill it by the Legislature of Massachusetts, of which, a great
majority in both its branches, besides the council and the governor,
belonged to the old republican party of the country. He was chosen, too,
under circumstances, which showed how completely his talents and lofty
national bearing had disarmed all political animosities, and how
thoroughly that commonwealth claimed him as her own, and cherished his
reputation and influence as a part of her treasures. There was no
regular nomination of him from any quarter, nor any regular opposition;
and he received the appointment by a sort of general consent and
acclamation, as if it were given with pride and pleasure, as well as
with unhesitating confidence and respect.

How he has borne himself in the Senate during the four sessions he has
sat there, is known to the whole country. No man has been found tall
enough to overshadow him; no man has been able to attract from him, or
to intercept from him, the constant regard of the nation. He has been so
conspicuous, so prominent, that whatever he has done, and whatever he
has said, has been watched and understood throughout the borders of the
land, almost as familiarly and thoroughly as it has been at Washington.

But though the eyes of all have thus been fastened on him in such a way,
that nothing relating to him can have escaped their notice, there is yet
one occasion, where he attracted a kind and degree of attention, which,
as it is rarely given, is so much the more honourable when it is
obtained. We refer now, of course, to the occasion, when, in 1830, he
overthrew the Doctrines of Nullification. Undoubtedly, in one sense of
the word, Mr. Webster was taken completely by surprise, when these
doctrines, for the first time in the history of the country, were
announced in the Senate; since he was so far from any particular
preparation to meet or answer them, that it was almost by accident he
was in his place, when they were so unexpectedly, at least to him and
all his friends, brought forth. In another and better sense of the
phrase, he was not taken by surprise at all; for the time was already
long gone by, when, on any great question of national interest or
constitutional principle, he could be taken unprepared or unarmed. We
mean by this, that the discussion of the most important points in the
memorable debate alluded to, came on incidentally; or rather that these
points were thrust forward by a few individuals, who seemed
predetermined to proceed under cover of them, to the ultimate limits of
personal and party violence.

Mr. Foot's resolution to inquire respecting the sales and the surveys of
western lands, was the innocent cause of the whole conflict. It was
introduced on the 29th of December, 1829; and was not then expected by
its author, or, perhaps, by any body else to excite much discussion, or
lead to any very important results. When it was introduced, Mr. Webster
was absent from Washington. Two days afterwards he took his seat. The
resolution had, indeed, called forth a few remarks, somewhat severe, the
day after it was presented, and then had been postponed to the next
Monday; but, apparently from want of interest in its fate, or from the
pressure of more important business, it was not called up by the mover
till January 13. From this time, a partial discussion began; but it
lingered rather lifelessly, and, in fact, really rose even to
skirmishing only one day, until the 19th, when General Hayne, a
distinguished senator from South Carolina, in a vehement and elaborate
speech, attacked the New-England States for what he considered their
selfish opposition to the interests of the West; and endeavoured to show
that a natural sympathy existed between the Southern and Western States,
upon the distribution and sales of the public lands, which would
necessarily make them a sort of natural allies. With this speech, of
course, the war broke out.

While it was delivering, Mr. Webster entered the Senate. He came from
the Supreme Court of the United States; and the papers in his hands
showed how far his thoughts were from the subjects and the tone, which
now at once reached him. As soon as General Hayne sat down, he rose to
reply; but Mr. Benton of Missouri, with many compliments to General
Hayne, and apparently willing the Senate should have all the leisure
necessary to consider and feel the effects of his speech, moved an
adjournment; Mr. Webster good naturedly consented. Of course, he had the
floor the next day; and in a speech, which will not be forgotten by the
present generation, poured out stores of knowledge long before
accumulated, in relation to the history of the public lands and to the
legislation concerning them; defending the policy of the government
towards the new states; showing the dangerous tendency of the doctrines
respecting the Constitution, current at the South, and sanctioned by
General Hayne; and repelling the general charges and reproaches cast on
New-England, especially the charge of hostility to the West, which,--if
there was meaning in words or acts,--he proved to be distinctly
applicable to the language and votes of the South Carolina delegation in
the House of Representatives in 1825. The war was thus, at once, carried
into the enemy's country.

The next day, January 21, it being well known that Mr. Webster had
urgent business, which called him again into the Supreme Court of the
United States, one of the members from Maryland moved an adjournment of
the debate. It would, perhaps, have been only what is customary and
courteous, if the request had been granted. But General Hayne objected.
"The gentleman," he said, "had discharged his weapon, and he (Mr. H.)
wished for an opportunity to return the fire." To which Mr. Webster
having replied;--"I am ready to receive it; let the discussion go
on;"--the debate was resumed. Mr. Benton then concluded some important
remarks he had begun the day before; and Mr. Hayne rose, and opened a
speech, which occupied the Senate the remainder of that day, and the
whole of the day following. It was a vigorous speech, embracing a great
number of topics and grounds;--calling in question the fairness of
New-England, the consistency of Mr. Webster, and the patriotism of the
State of Massachusetts;--and ending with a bold, acute, and elaborated
exposition and defence of the doctrines now, for the first time,
formally developed in Congress, and since well known by the name of the
_Doctrines of Nullification_. The first part of the speech was caustic
and personal; the latter part of it grave and argumentative;--and the
whole was delivered in presence of an audience, which any man might be
proud to have collected to listen to him.

Mr. Webster took notes during its delivery; and it was apparent to the
crowd, which, for two days, had thronged the senate-chamber, that he
intended to reply. Indeed, on this point, he was permitted no choice. He
had been assailed in a way, which called for an answer. When, therefore,
the doors of the senate-chamber were opened the next morning, the rush
for admittance was unprecedented. Mr. Webster had the floor, and rose.
The first division of his speech is in reply to parts and details of his
adversary's personal assault,--and is a happy, though severe specimen of
the keenest spirit of genuine debate and retort;--for Mr. Webster is one
of those dangerous adversaries, who are never so formidable or so
brilliant, as when they are most rudely pressed;--for then, as in the
phosphorescence of the ocean, the degree of the violence urged, may
always be taken as the measure of the brightness that is to follow. On
the present occasion, his manner was cool, entirely self-possessed, and
perfectly decided, and carried his irony as far as irony can go. There
are portions of this first day's discussion, like the passage relating
to the charge of sleeping on the speech, he had answered; the one in
allusion to Banquo's ghost, which had been unhappily conjured up by his
adversary; and the rejoinder respecting "one Nathan Dane of Beverly, in
Massachusetts,"--which will not be forgotten. The very tones in which
they were uttered, still vibrate in the ears of those who heard them.
There are, also, other and graver portions of it,--like those which
respect the course of legislation in regard to the new states; the
conduct of the North in regard to slavery, and the doctrine of internal
improvements,--which are in the most powerful style of parliamentary
debate. As he approaches the conclusion of this first great division of
his speech, he rises to the loftiest tone of national feeling, entirely
above the dim, misty region of sectional or party passion and
prejudice:--

    "The eulogium pronounced on the character of the state of
    South Carolina, by the honourable gentleman, for her
    revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence.
    I shall not acknowledge that the honourable member goes
    before me in regard for whatever of distinguished talent, or
    distinguished character, South Carolina has produced. I
    claim part of the honour, I partake in the pride, of her
    great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all. The
    Laurenses, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the
    Marions--Americans, all--whose fame is no more to be hemmed
    in by state lines, than their talents and patriotism were
    capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow
    limits. In their day and generation, they served and
    honoured the country, and the whole country; and their
    renown is of the treasures of the whole country. Him, whose
    honoured name the gentleman himself bears--does he esteem me
    less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy
    for his sufferings, than if his eyes had first opened upon
    the light of Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina? Sir,
    does he suppose it in his power to exhibit a Carolina name,
    so bright, as to produce envy in my bosom? No, Sir,
    increased gratification and delight, rather. I thank God,
    that, if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is able
    to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust,
    of that other spirit, which would drag angels down. When I
    shall be found, Sir, in my place here, in the Senate, or
    elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happens to
    spring up beyond the little limits of my own state, or
    neighbourhood; when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any
    cause, the homage due to American talent, to elevated
    patriotism, to sincere devotion to liberty and the country;
    or, if I see an uncommon endowment of Heaven--if I see
    extraordinary capacity and virtue in any son of the
    South--and if, moved by local prejudice, or gangrened by
    state jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a hair
    from his just character and just fame, may my tongue cleave
    to the roof of my mouth!

    "Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections--let me indulge
    in refreshing remembrance of the past--let me remind you
    that in early times, no states cherished greater harmony,
    both of principle and feeling, than Massachusetts and South
    Carolina. Would to God that harmony might again return!
    Shoulder to shoulder they went through the revolution--hand
    in hand they stood round the administration of Washington,
    and felt his own great arm lean on them for support. Unkind
    feeling, if it exist, alienation and distrust, are the
    growth, unnatural to such soils, of false principles since
    sown. They are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm
    never scattered.

    "Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon
    Massachusetts--she needs none. There she is--behold her, and
    judge for yourselves. There is her history: the world knows
    it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston,
    and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill--and there they
    will remain forever. The bones of her sons, falling in the
    great struggle for independence, now lie mingled with the
    soil of every state, from New England to Georgia; and there
    they will lie forever. And, Sir, where American liberty
    raised its first voice; and where its youth was nurtured and
    sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its
    manhood and full of its original spirit. If discord and
    disunion shall wound it--if party strife and blind ambition
    shall hawk at and tear it--if folly and madness--if
    uneasiness, under salutary and necessary restraint--shall
    succeed to separate it from that union, by which alone its
    existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the
    side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked: it will
    stretch forth its arm with whatever of vigour it may still
    retain, over the friends who gather round it; and it will
    fall at last, if fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments
    of its own glory, and on the very spot of its origin." pages
    406, 407.

The next day, Mr. Webster went into a grave and formal examination of
_the doctrines of nullification_, or the right of the state legislatures
to interfere, whenever, in their judgment, the general government
transcends its constitutional limits, and to arrest the operation of its
laws. Four days had hardly elapsed, since this doctrine had been
announced with an air of assured success in the Senate; and these four
days had been filled with active debate and contest. Of course, here
again, there had been neither time nor opportunity for especial
preparation. Happily, too, there was no need of it. The fund, on which
the demand was so triumphantly made, was equal to the draft, great and
unexpected as it was. Mr. Webster's mind is full of constitutional law
and legislation. On all such subjects, he needs no forecast, no
preparation, no brief;--and, on this occasion, he had none. He but
uttered opinions and arguments, which had grown mature with his years
and his judgment, and which were as familiar to him as household words.
We have, therefore, no elaborate, documentary discussion,--no citation
of books or authorities. It is with principles, great constitutional
principles, he deals; and it is in plain, direct arguments, which all
can understand, that he defends them. There is nothing technical,
nothing abstruse, nothing indirect, either in the subject or its
explanation. On the contrary, all is straight forward--obvious--to the
purpose. For instance, after stating the question at issue to be,
"_whose prerogative is it, to decide on the constitutionality or
unconstitutionality of the laws?_" he goes on:--

    "This leads us to inquire into the origin of this
    government, and the source of its power. Whose agent is it?
    Is it the creature of the state legislatures, or the
    creature of the people? If the government of the United
    States be the agent of the state governments, then they may
    control it, provided they can agree in the manner of
    controlling it; if it be the agent of the people, then the
    people alone can control it, restrain it, modify, or reform
    it. It is observable enough, that the doctrine for which the
    honourable gentleman contends, leads him to the necessity of
    maintaining, not only that this general government is the
    creature of the states, but that it is the creature of each
    of the states severally; so that each may assert the power,
    for itself, of determining whether it acts within the limits
    of its authority. It is the servant of four and twenty
    masters, of different wills and different purposes, and yet
    bound to obey all. This absurdity (for it seems no less)
    arises from a misconception as to the origin of this
    government and its true character. It is, Sir, the people's
    constitution, the people's government,--made for the
    people,--made by the people,--and answerable to the people.
    The people of the United States have declared that this
    constitution shall be the supreme law. We must either admit
    the proposition, or dispute their authority. The states are,
    unquestionably, sovereign, so far as their sovereignty is
    not affected by this supreme law. But the state
    legislatures, as political bodies, however sovereign, are
    yet not sovereign over the people. So far as the people have
    given power to the general government, so far the grant is
    unquestionably good, and the government holds of the people,
    and not of the state governments. We are all agents of the
    same supreme power, the people.--The general government and
    the state governments derive their authority from the same
    source. Neither can, in relation to the other, be called
    primary, though one is definite and restricted, and the
    other general and residuary. The national government
    possesses those powers which it can be shown the people have
    conferred on it, and no more. All the rest belongs to the
    state governments, or to the people themselves. So far as
    the people have restrained state sovereignty, by the
    expression of their will, in the constitution of the United
    States, so far, it must be admitted, state sovereignty is
    effectually controlled. I do not contend that it is, or
    ought to be controlled farther. The sentiment to which I
    have referred, propounds that state sovereignty is only to
    be controlled by its own "feeling of justice;" that is to
    say, it is not to be controlled at all; for one who is to
    follow his own feelings is under no legal control.--Now,
    however men may think this ought to be, the fact is, that
    the people of the United States have chosen to impose
    control on state sovereignties. There are those, doubtless,
    who wish they had been left without restraint; but the
    constitution has ordered the matter differently. To make
    war, for instance, is an exercise of sovereignty; but the
    constitution declares that no state shall make war. To coin
    money is another exercise of sovereign power; but no state
    is at liberty to coin money. Again, the constitution says
    that no sovereign state shall be so sovereign as to make a
    treaty. These prohibitions, it must be confessed, are a
    control on the state sovereignty of South Carolina, as well
    as of the other states, which does not arise "from her own
    feelings of honourable justice." Such an opinion, therefore,
    is in defiance of the plainest provisions of the
    constitution." pages 410, 411.

Again, what can be more sure and convincing than such plain reasoning as
this:--

    "I maintain, that, between submission to the decision of the
    constituted tribunals, and revolution, or disunion, there is
    no middle ground--there is no ambiguous condition, half
    allegiance, and half rebellion. And, Sir, how futile, how
    very futile it is, to admit the right of state interference,
    and then attempt to save it from the character of unlawful
    resistance, by adding terms of qualification to the causes,
    and occasions, leaving all these qualifications, like the
    case itself, in the discretion of the state governments. It
    must be a clear case, it is said, a deliberate case; a
    palpable case; a dangerous case. But then the state is still
    left at liberty to decide for herself, what is clear, what
    is deliberate, what is palpable, what is dangerous. Do
    adjectives and epithets avail any thing? Sir, the human mind
    is so constituted, that the merits of both sides of a
    controversy appear very clear, and very palpable, to those
    who respectively espouse them; and both sides usually grow
    clearer as the controversy advances. South Carolina sees
    unconstitutionality in the tariff; she sees oppression
    there, also; and she sees danger. Pennsylvania, with a
    vision not less sharp, looks at the same tariff, and sees no
    such thing in it--she sees it all constitutional, all
    useful, all safe. The faith of South Carolina is
    strengthened by opposition, and she now not only sees, but
    _resolves_, that the tariff is palpably unconstitutional,
    oppressive, and dangerous: but Pennsylvania, not to be
    behind her neighbours, and equally willing to strengthen her
    own faith by a confident asseveration, _resolves_, also, and
    gives to every warm affirmative of South Carolina, a plain,
    downright, Pennsylvania negative. South Carolina, to show
    the strength and unity of her opinion, brings her assembly
    to a unanimity, within seven voices; Pennsylvania, not to be
    outdone in this respect more than others, reduces her
    dissentient fraction to a single vote. Now, Sir, again, I
    ask the gentleman, what is to be done? Are these states both
    right? Is he bound to consider them both right? If not,
    which is in the wrong?--or rather, which has the best right
    to decide? And if he, and if I, are not to know what the
    constitution means, and what it is, till those two state
    legislatures, and the twenty-two others, shall agree in its
    construction, what have we sworn to, when we have sworn to
    maintain it? I was forcibly struck, Sir, with one
    reflection, as the gentleman went on in his speech. He
    quoted Mr. Madison's resolutions, to prove that a state may
    interfere, in a case of deliberate, palpable, and dangerous
    exercise of a power not granted. The honourable member
    supposes the tariff law to be such an exercise of power; and
    that, consequently, a case has arisen in which the state
    may, if it see fit, interfere by its own law. Now, it so
    happens, nevertheless, that Mr. Madison deems this same
    tariff law quite constitutional. Instead of a clear and
    palpable violation, it is, in his judgment, no violation at
    all. So that, while they use his authority for a
    hypothetical case, they reject it in the very case before
    them. All this, Sir, shows the inherent--futility--I had
    almost used a stronger word--of conceding this power of
    interference to the states, and then attempting to secure it
    from abuse by imposing qualifications, of which the states
    themselves are to judge. One of two things is true; either
    the laws of the Union are beyond the discretion, and beyond
    the control of the states; or else we have no constitution
    of general government, and are thrust back again to the days
    of the confederacy." pp. 416, 417.

This is a striking fact about Mr. Madison; but one still more striking
occurred after the publication of the speech. His great name and
authority had been constantly and confidently appealed to, not only in
this debate, by General Hayne, but, on previous occasions, by other
favourers of the South Carolina doctrines, until at last it began to be
almost feared, that Mr. Madison sustained the positions of the
nullifiers. But as he had already shown that the tariff law was quite
constitutional, so, now, with no less promptness and power, he came out
against the whole doctrine of nullification, and showed that his
resolutions of 1798, on which its friends had rested the wild fabric of
their argument, as its main pillars, had nothing to do with it; and
thus, in conjunction with what had been done in the Senate, brought down
the whole temple they had built with such pains and cost, upon the heads
of their uncircumcised presumption and extravagance. His letter, indeed,
on this subject, is one of the most characteristic efforts of his great
wisdom, and one of the most important results of this discussion, since
it took from the advocates of nullification all the support of his
authority--the _magni nominis umbra_--the shade and shelter of his great
name.

But to return to Mr. Webster; the general tone of the last half of his
speech is uncommonly grave and imposing; but there is one passage in
which a lighter accent is assumed. It is that in which he runs out
General Hayne's nullifying doctrine into practice, and sets him, as a
military man, to execute his own nullifying law. The argument of this
passage is the more efficacious, because it is concealed under so much
wit and good-humour.

    "And now, Mr. President, let me run the honourable
    gentleman's doctrine a little into its practical
    application. Let us look at his probable _modus operandi_.
    If a thing can be done, an ingenious man can tell _how_ it
    is to be done. Now, I wish to be informed, _how_ this state
    interference is to be put in practice. We will take the
    existing case of the tariff law. South Carolina is said to
    have made up her opinion upon it. If we do not repeal it,
    (as we probably shall not,) she will then apply to the case
    the remedy of her doctrine. She will, we must suppose, pass
    a law of her legislature, declaring the several acts of
    Congress, usually called the Tariff Laws, null and void, so
    far as they respect South Carolina, or the citizens thereof.
    So far, all is a paper transaction, and easy enough. But the
    collector at Charleston, is collecting the duties imposed by
    these tariff laws--he, therefore, must be stopped. The
    collector will seize the goods if the tariff duties are not
    paid. The state authorities will undertake their rescue; the
    marshal, with his posse, will come to the collector's aid,
    and here the contest begins. The militia of the state will
    be called out to sustain the nullifying act. They will
    march, Sir, under a very gallant leader: for I believe the
    honourable member himself commands the militia of that part
    of the state. He will raise the _Nullifying Act_ on his
    standard, and spread it out as his banner. It will have a
    preamble, bearing that the tariff laws are palpable,
    deliberate, and dangerous violations of the Constitution! He
    will proceed, with his banner flying, to the custom-house in
    Charleston;

                    'All the while,
        Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds.'

    Arrived at the custom-house, he will tell the collector that
    he must collect no more duties under any of the tariff laws.
    This, he will be somewhat puzzled to say, by the way, with a
    grave countenance, considering what hand South Carolina
    herself had in that of 1816. But, Sir, the collector would,
    probably, not desist, at his bidding. He would show him the
    law of Congress, the treasury instruction, and his own oath
    of office. He would say, he should perform his duty, come
    what might. Here would ensue a pause: for they say that a
    certain stillness precedes the tempest. The trumpeter would
    hold his breath awhile, and before all this military array
    should fall on the custom-house, collector, clerks, and all,
    it is very probable some of those composing it, would
    request of their gallant commander-in-chief, to be informed
    a little upon the point of law; for they have, doubtless, a
    just respect for his opinions as a lawyer, as well as for
    his bravery as a soldier. They know he has read Blackstone
    and the Constitution, as well as Turrene and Vauban. They
    would ask him, therefore, something concerning their rights
    in this matter. They would inquire, whether it was not
    somewhat dangerous to resist a law of the United States.
    What would be the nature of their offence, they would wish
    to learn, if they, by military force and array, resisted the
    execution in Carolina of a law of the United States, and it
    should turn out, after all, that the law _was
    constitutional_? He would answer, of course, treason. No
    lawyer could give any other answer. John Fries, he would
    tell them, had learned that some years ago. How, then, they
    would ask, do you propose to defend us? We are not afraid of
    bullets, but treason has a way of taking people off, that we
    do not much relish. How do you propose to defend us? 'Look
    at my floating banner,' he would reply, 'see there the
    _nullifying law_!' Is it your opinion, gallant commander,
    they would then say, that if we should be indicted for
    treason, that same floating banner of yours would make a
    good plea in bar? 'South Carolina is a sovereign state,' he
    would reply. That is true--but would the judge admit our
    plea? 'These tariff laws,' he would repeat, 'are
    unconstitutional, palpably, deliberately, dangerously.' That
    all may be so; but if the tribunal should not happen to be
    of that opinion, shall we swing for it? We are ready to die
    for our country, but it is rather an awkward business, this
    dying without touching the ground! After all, that is a sort
    of _hemp_-tax, worse than any part of the tariff.

    Mr. President, the honourable gentleman would be in a
    dilemma, like that of another great general. He would have a
    knot before him which he could not untie. He must cut it
    with his sword. He must say to his followers, defend
    yourselves with your bayonets; and this is war--civil war."
    pp. 421, 422.

After this his tone becomes even more grave and solemn than before,
until, when he approaches the conclusion, he bursts forth with the
expression of feelings of attachment to the Union and the Constitution,
which it seemed no longer possible for him to suppress. We should quote
the passage, but that it has been quoted every where, and is familiar to
every body.

We forbear to pursue this debate any further. Mr. Hayne replied in a
short speech, which he afterwards expanded in the newspapers into a long
one; and Mr. Webster rejoined with a syllogistic brevity, exactness, and
power, which carried with them the force and conclusiveness of a
demonstration; and thus ended the discussion as between these two. It
was afterwards continued, however, for several weeks, and a majority, or
nearly a majority, of the whole Senate took part in it; but whenever it
is now recollected or referred to, the contest between the two principal
speakers, from the 19th to the 23d of January, is, we believe, generally
intended.

The results of this memorable debate are already matter of history. The
vast audience that had contended for admission to the senate-chamber,
till entrance became dangerous, were the first to feel and make known
its effect; for, with his peculiar power of explaining abstruse and
technical subjects, so that all can comprehend them, Mr. Webster there
expounded a great doctrine of the constitution, which had been
powerfully assailed, so that all might feel the foundations on which it
rests, to have been consolidated rather than disturbed by the attempt to
shake them. Their verdict, therefore, was given at the time, and heard
throughout the country. But since that day, when the crowd came out of
the senate-chamber rejoicing in the victory which had been achieved for
the constitution, nearly twenty editions of the same argument have been
called for in different parts of the country, and thus scattered abroad
above an hundred thousand copies of it, besides the countless multitudes
that have been sent forth by the newspapers, until almost without a
metaphor, it may be said to have been carried to every fire-side in the
land. The very question, therefore, which was first submitted to an
audience in the capitol,--comprising, indeed, a remarkable
representation of the talents and authority of the country, but still
comparatively small,--has since been submitted by the press to the
judgment of the nation, more fully, probably, than any thing of the kind
was ever submitted before; and the same remarkable plainness, the same
power of elucidating great legal and constitutional doctrines till they
become as intelligible and simple as the occupations of daily life, has
enlarged the jury of the senate-chamber till it has become the jury of
the whole people, and the same verdict has followed. What, therefore,
Chancellor Kent said in relation to it, is as true as it is
beautiful;--"Peace has its victories as well as war;"--and the triumph
which Mr. Webster thus secured for a great constitutional principle, he
may now well regard, as the chief honour of his life.

Indeed, a man such as he is, when he looks back upon his past life, and
forward to the future, must needs feel, that his fate and his fortunes,
his fame and his ambition, are connected throughout with the fate and
the fortunes of the constitution of his country. He is the child of our
free institutions. None other could have produced or reared him;--none
other can now sustain or advance him. From the days when, amidst the
fastnesses of nature, his young feet with difficulty sought the rude
school-house, where his earliest aspirations were nurtured, up to the
moment when he came forth in triumph from the senate-chamber, conscious
that he had overthrown the Doctrines of Nullification, and contended
successfully for the Union of the States, he must have felt, that his
extraordinary powers have constantly depended for their development and
their exercise on the peculiar institutions of our free governments. It
is plain, indeed, that he has thriven heretofore, by their progress and
success; and it is, we think, equally plain, that in time to come, his
hopes and his fortunes can be advanced only by their continued stability
and further progress. We think, too, that Mr. Webster feels this. On all
the great principles of the constitution, and all the leading interests
of the country, his opinions are known; his ground is taken; his lot is
cast. Whoever may attack the Union on any of the fundamental doctrines
of our government, he must defend them. _Prima fortuna salutis monstrat
iter._ The path he has chosen, is the path he must follow. And we
rejoice at it. We rejoice, that such a necessity is imposed on such a
mind. We rejoice, that, even such as he cannot stand, unless they
sustain the institutions that formed them; and that, what is in itself
so poetically just and so morally beautiful, is enforced by a
providential wisdom, which neither genius nor ambition can resist or
control. We rejoice, too, when, on the other hand, a man so gifted,
faithfully and proudly devotes to the institutions of his country the
powers and influence they have unfolded and fostered in him, that, in
his turn, he is again rewarded with confidence and honours, which, as
they can come neither from faction nor passion, so neither party
discipline nor political violence can diminish nor impair them. And,
finally, and above all, we rejoice for the great body of the people,
that the decided and unhesitating support they have so freely given to
the distinguished Senator, with whose name "this land now rings from
side to side," because he has triumphantly defended the Union of the
States and the principles of the Constitution;--we rejoice, we say, _for
the people_, because, such a support given by them for such a cause, not
only strengthens and cements the very foundations of whatever is most
valuable in our government; but at the same time, warns and encourages
all who would hereafter seek similar honours and favours, to consult for
the course they shall follow, neither the indications of party nor the
impulses of passion, but to address themselves plainly, fearlessly,
calmly, directly to the intelligence and honesty of _the whole nation_,
"and ask no omen but their country's cause."


[Footnote 5: These are the last words of the speech; and the sentiment
they contain in favour of a navy and naval protection, has been
maintained with great earnestness by Mr. Webster for nearly thirty
years, on all public occasions. In an oration delivered July 4th, 1806,
and printed at Concord, N. H., he says, "an immense portion of our
property is in the waves. Sixty or eighty thousand of our most useful
citizens are there, and are entitled to such protection from the
government as their case requires." In another oration, delivered in
1812, and printed at Portsmouth, he says, "a navy sufficient for the
defence of our coasts and harbours, for the convoy of important branches
of our trade, and sufficient, also, to give our enemies to understand,
when they injure us, that _they_ too are vulnerable, and that we have
the power of retaliation as well as of defence, seems to be the plain,
necessary, indispensable policy of the nation. It is the dictate of
nature and common sense, that means of defence shall have relation to
the danger." These doctrines in favour of a navy were extremely
unwelcome to the nation when they were delivered; the first occasion
referred to, being just before the imposition of the embargo; and the
second, just before the capture of the Guerriere. How stands the
national sentiment now? Who doubts the truth of what Mr. Webster could
not utter in 1806 and 1812 without exciting ill-will to himself?]

[Footnote 6: North American Review, 1821. Vol. xii. p. 342.]

[Footnote 7: See the beautiful passage respecting the fortune and the
life of John Adams at p. 44.]

[Footnote 8: In an able article on the battle of Bunker's Hill, which is
found in the North American Review, 1818, VII. 225-258, and is
understood to have been written by Mr. Webster, he says,--"In truth, if
there was any commander-in-chief in the action, it was Prescott. From
the first breaking of the ground to the retreat, he acted _the most
important part_; and if it were now proper to give the battle a name
from any distinguished agent in it, it should be called, Prescott's
battle." We have no doubt this is but an exact measure of justice to one
of those who hazarded all in our revolution, when the hazard was the
greatest. The whole review is strong, and no one hereafter can write the
history of the period it refers to, without consulting it. The opening
description of the battle is beautiful and picturesque.]




    ART. VIII.--POLAND.

    1.--_Histoire de Pologne par_ M. ZIELINSKI, _Professeur au
    Lycée de Varsovie_. Tome premier, pp. 383. Tome second, pp.
    422: Paris: 1830.

    2.--_Polen, zur Zeit der zwey letzten Theilungen dieses
    Reichs: Historisch, Statistisch, und Geographisch
    beschrieben, &c. &c. Poland, at the time of the two last
    divisions of this kingdom; Historically, Statistically, and
    Geographically, described, with a map, exhibiting the
    divisions of Poland, in the years 1772, 1793, and 1795_: pp.
    551.

    3.--_Histoire de l'Anarchie de Pologne, par_ M. RULHIERE.

    4.--SPITTLER'S _Entwurf der Geschichte Polens, Miteiner
    Fortsetrung bis auf die neuesten Zeiten verslhen von_ GEORG
    SARTORIUS, _in Spittler's Essay at the History of the
    European States_. Vol. II. pp. 460-546: Third edition:
    Berlin: 1823:


We venture to invite public attention to a review of the history of
Poland. The subject excites a deep but melancholy interest; we dread to
hear the result of the glorious but unhappy conflict, in which that
devoted country is engaged. We know, indeed, that the Poles will be
faithful to their cause; we know, that they are encouraged by the
sincere prayers of all who desire the permanent and extended welfare of
the world; we know, that though single-handed, hemmed in by hostile
powers, and all unprovided as they are with the means of conducting war,
they will sustain the terrible struggle with fearless intrepidity. But
Warsaw, like the Carthage of old, must fall at last; though the excited
spirit of patriotism may cover its fall, with a glory which will not
fade. But we fear almost to read of partial successes. The generous
enthusiasm of the Poles for political independence, is identified with
the best interests, the security and permanent repose of Europe; it has
not failed to achieve brilliant actions in its contest against the
fearful odds of an immense empire; it may perform yet more honourable
deeds upon the great theatre of the contest; but all these temporary
advantages fail to excite in us a thrill of triumph. We fear for the
result. The brave opposition which has been made, displays the more
fully the merits of the nation which is doomed as a victim, and we
almost shrink from admiring the gallantry which will eventually render
more bloody and more severe the sacrifice that must at last be offered
on the unholy altars of despotism. The nationality of Poland has excited
the struggle; has animated her sons to battle; and has armed them in the
panoply of an heroic despair. That nationality will be utterly destroyed
by the impending successes of Russia. The alarum was rung too late for
the devoted people; they rallied to the watchword of liberty, but their
glory and strength were already departed. Its name will be erased from
the list of nations; and the beautiful plains on which the proud cavalry
of its nobles used to assemble in the haughty exercise of their elective
rights, will be confounded with the great mass of lands, which
constitute the vast empire of the North.

Before our remarks can meet the eyes of our readers, perhaps, this
result will have been accomplished. There was a short interval in the
history of our age, when the monarchs, in their resistance to Napoleon,
made their appeal to their people, acknowledged the power and aroused
the enthusiasm of the many, and seemed inclined to give durability to
their institutions by conciliating the general good will. It was during
that short period, that the residue of Poland, having by the fortunes of
war become occupied by Russian troops, was annexed to Russia, not as an
integral part of its empire, but as a coordinate and independent
kingdom. No such system had ever before been pursued; but Alexander was
for a while seized with the general love of constitutions, and believed
them still consistent with his independent sway. In consequence, Poland,
that is, the small remaining portion of the ancient kingdom, received
its separate existence, and under a free constitution. But the absolute
politicians soon discovered that this would prove in their doctrines an
anomaly. It soon became evident that the liberties of Poland were
inconsistent with the abject submission of Russia; and since we cannot
hope, that the latter will as yet claim a change in its government, it
seems assured, that the Poles will be compelled to submit to the same
servitude. Such appears to us the necessary issue of the present
conflict; Polish nationality will be entirely subverted; and the kingdom
of Poland be merged in the consolidated empire.

We regard such an issue, as one deeply to be deplored. The favorite poet
of Italy, in searching for objects to illustrate the general decay of
human affairs, and to pourtray the insignificance of personal
sufferings, as compared with the larger proofs of the instability of
fortune, exclaims with pathetic truth;

    "Cadono le città, cadono i regni
    E l'uom d'esser mortal par che si sdegni."

Of the ruin of a realm, we have a most appalling example. In the places
of many of the old Polish cities, it is said, that dense forests have
now sprung up; that the traveller, as he makes his way through their
interminable shades, finds the pavement of streets and the relics of
deserted towns in the midst of a lifeless solitude. And now, that the
sum of evils may be full, the nation of the Poles seems destined to a
fall, from which there will be to them no further resurrection.

Yet the former history of Poland hardly palliates the position which the
sovereigns and states of Europe have assumed towards her. In the days of
her republican pride, was she not the chosen ally of France and the
rightful mistress of Prussia? The crowns of Sweden and of Bohemia have
at separate times been worn by her kings; the Danube was hardly the
limit of her southern frontier; the coasts of the Euxine were hers; and
when Vienna itself was about to yield to the yoke of Turkish barbarism,
it was a Polish king that stayed the wave and rescued Christendom from
the danger of Turkish supremacy. If France had on the one side saved
Europe from the Saracens, Poland had in its turn protected it against
the Turks; and John Sobieski alone deserves to be named with Charles
Martel, as the successful defenders of Christendom in the moments of its
greatest danger.

But in the foreign politics of European powers, generosity and gratitude
have usually prevailed no more than other moral considerations. The
interests of the state have sometimes disputed the ascendency with the
intrigues of courtiers, or the cabals of ecclesiastics; but the voice of
justice has rarely been heard in its own right. Political vice has
usually been counteracted by political vice; and if the right of the
stronger has been sometimes resisted, it was only from the
multiplication of jealousies. Thus, we shall see, that the crisis of
Poland was delayed, not by its intrinsic strength, but by the collision
of foreign interests.

A consideration of the revolutions in Polish history is full of
instruction for our nation. The inquirer finds, that the causes of the
decline of that unhappy country were deeply rooted in its constitution;
that it yielded to foreign aggression, only because it had been reduced
to anarchy by the licentious vehemence of domestic feuds. The Poles
themselves struck the wounds of which their republic bled; and their
efforts at resistance would have been ample and effectual, if they had
not continued their factions till the ruin was complete; if the alarums
which aroused them to united action, had not been the knell of their
country.

The Poles are a branch of the great Slavonian family of nations. No
history reveals, no tradition reports their origin. The plains upon the
Vistula were at a very early period the seat of their abode; and when,
in the seventh century, the Bulgarians excited movements on the Danube,
new tribes crossed the Carpathian mountains, and perhaps contributed to
the development of the political condition among their brethren whom
they joined.

The name itself of Poles, does not occur till the end of the tenth
century; but fable has not omitted to lend an aspect of romance to the
early fortunes of the nation. Shall we repeat the wonderful tale of the
hospitable peasant Piast, who is said have been chosen in 840 to be the
Polish king? His descendants are said to have been kings in Poland till
the time of Casimir III.; and so late as 1675 were princes in Silesia.
It was owing to the virtues of this plebeian monarch, that the natives
among the Poles, when elected to be kings, were called Piasts.

The German kings were zealous to diffuse Christianity beyond the
Vistula; and Mjesko, who was baptized in 964, was the first of the
Polish chiefs who embraced Christianity, and at the same time became the
vassal of the German king. Yet it is hard to assign a fixed character to
the government during this earliest historical period. As Poland is a
plain, its natural aspect invited aggressions from all sides; and it was
in its turn fond of war as a profession. Its limits were uncertain, and
the power of its chiefs ill defined. Nor was its relation to Germany
established. International law was but faintly developed; nor could it
be said, whether the masters of Poland did homage for the whole, or only
for a portion of their territory. Indeed, it was sometimes utterly
refused. To the peremptory demand of tribute, on the part of the Emperor
Henry V., the Polish Duke replied, "no terror can make me own myself
your tributary, even to the amount of a penny; I had rather lose my
whole country, than possess it in ignominious peace." Unsuccessful in
the field, the emperor relied on his treasures to make his supremacy
acknowledged. "See here," said he to the Polish deputation, opening his
chest, "the resources which shall enable me to crush you." A Polish
envoy immediately drew from his finger a ring of great value, and
throwing it in, exclaimed, "add this to your gold."[9] Venality was not
in fashion in those days, and the emperor suffered a complete overthrow.

So it was, that for the four first centuries in Polish history, prowess
in the field rendered the nation glorious and passionately fond of war.
The pressure of external force at last led to the formation of a
permanent territory, and an acknowledged form of government, after a
long subdivision of the country among various chiefs, and a confused
political condition, eminently favourable to the leaders of a barbarous
aristocracy.

The first permanent mass that arose out of the chaos of separate
principalities, was Great Poland, on the Wartha; and this was at last
united under the same master with Little Poland, on the Vistula. The
nation desired a king, as their only refuge from anarchy and invasions.
The Pope John XII. had been desired to appoint the king; he pleaded the
principle of nonintervention, and bade the nation execute its own laws
and its own will. In consequence, Ladislaus was crowned with great
solemnity at Cracau, in 1320, and the series of Polish kings is from
that time uninterrupted. But the period of aristocratic anarchy had
impressed a character upon the government and the nation. There existed
no established laws, no rising commerce, no pure religious worship. The
bravery of the Poles in the field was brilliant, but barren. Their
enthusiasm won victories, but could not turn them to the advantage of
the country. And when, at the epoch we have named, a king was chosen for
the whole state, his power was already limited, not by a fair
representation of the interests of the nation, but solely by the high
aristocracy. Without their consent no laws could be established, nor
wars declared, nor government administered, nor justice decreed.

And yet the ensuing period of Polish history is that of greatest
national prosperity. The vices of the constitution were not fully
developed till the close of the sixteenth century. Indeed, Casimir the
Great, the immediate successor of Ladislaus, was able, like Augustus of
Rome, during a reign of thirty-seven years, to establish something like
justice and tranquillity in his kingdom. If he lost territory on the one
side, he gained large provinces from Russia on the other. But his
greatest merit consisted in his functions as a law-giver. His code was
written in the Latin, expressed in neat and clear language, and was
favourable to the industry and prosperity of the country. The Polish
historians delight to recount the magnificence which his economy enabled
him to maintain; and applying to him what used to be said of the Roman,
declare that he found Poland of wood, and left it of brick.

But the seeds of evil were also planted by him. According to his desire,
Lewis, the king of Hungary, was elected his successor. The consent of
the nobles could be purchased only by concessions; and in order to
secure the royal dignity in his family to one of his daughters, he was
compelled to enter into terms with the oligarchy. Freedom from taxation
was the great point demanded and promised. All towns, castles, and
estates, belonging to the nobles, were freed from taxation forever; and
no services of any kind were to be required. In case of war, the nobles
were to take the field on horseback, for the defence of the country; but
if necessity required the employment of troops abroad, it was to be at
the charge of the king. Thus the paternal ambition of the king, uniting
with the avarice of the nobles, laid the foundation of anarchy and
weakness, by concessions wholly at variance with the existence of an
equitable liberty. The people, having no means of making their rights
heard, were abandoned entirely to the tyranny of their immediate
masters. Such was the origin of the _pacta conventa_, and such the first
venal bargain, by which the energies of Poland were bartered away, and
aristocratic tyranny made the basis of the constitution.

Fatal as was this arrangement for the political progress of Poland, it
was yet favourable for the extension of its territory. Hedwiga, the
daughter of Lewis, succeeded to the throne; and by accepting for her
husband Jagellon, the grand duke of Lithuania, she annexed that dutchy
to Poland, and was the means of converting its inhabitants from
paganism. It was in 1386 that the grand duke was baptized, and with him
the celebrated family of the Jagellons obtained the Polish crown.

The Lithuanians were converted to Christianity, not by fire and sword,
nor by any process of argument. It was the will of their prince; and
besides, excellent woollen coats and leather shoes, were distributed to
the neophytes. He who could repeat the _pater noster_ and the decalogue,
was received as a Christian. They were a barbarous race,--yet, like the
Poles, formed a part of the Slavonian family, and had gradually become
an independent nation. The complete union of the two countries did not
take place for nearly two centuries.

The family of the Jagellons, for seven successive reigns, extending
through 186 years, obtained the throne. The praises of that period form
the theme of eulogy among the patriotic writers of Poland. It was the
period of the greatest harmony between the kings and the nation. They
were admired for the fidelity with which they maintained their
covenants; the crown of Sweden was repeatedly proffered to them,--and
they had conferred on Poland, the lasting benefit of uniting to it a
country, which before had been the theatre of constant hostilities. But
yet so far as the sovereigns themselves are observed, not one of them
displayed the highest excellence of a ruler. They were abundantly
distinguished for the virtues which constitute personal worth; but they
were not of the persevering energy, or prudent discernment, which could
alone have given a sure foundation to the Polish government.

The first in the line, to secure the accession of his son, confirmed the
privileges of the nobles. The peasantry was forgotten; the class of
citizens hardly remembered, but the personal rights and the property of
the nobles was sacredly assured. It was further stipulated, that none
but natives should be appointed to the high offices of the state. A
stipulation of that sort, would have rendered the genius of Peter the
Great inadequate to the reforms which he planned and executed; the
limitation in Poland undoubtedly retarded the progress of culture.

The second in the series, a minor at his accession, was elected king of
Hungary also; and he had hardly begun to exercise his power and display
his valour, before he fell in the famous battle of Varna, in the effort
to save the Greek empire from the Turks. His brother and successor,
Casimir IV., had two powerful enemies, the Teutonic knights, and the
Polish nobility. The latter war was the more formidable,--for, as the
power of his foreign adversaries compelled him to resort frequently to
the diets, of which he convoked no less than forty-five, it is not
strange, that the nobles wrung some new privilege from every occurrence,
which rendered their co-operation necessary. At length it was
established, that no new law should be enacted, nor any levy of troops
be made, without the consent of the general diet. The custom of sending
deputies now became prevalent, because the frequency of the diet
rendered a general attendance troublesome. The number of delegates was
at first fixed by no rule, and the whole form grew up as chance, as
gradual usage prescribed; but, as the excessive power of the nobility
increased, the rights of the peasantry were impaired. The code of
Casimir the Great, had left the labourer the choice of his residence; it
was now decreed, that the peasant should be considered as attached to
the soil, and the fugitive might be pursued and recovered as a run-a-way
slave. A third estate was hardly known; and, if the deputies of cities
sometimes appeared in a convention, their chief privilege was to kiss
the new king's hand, or sign decrees, on which they were not invited to
deliberate. Polish politics established the rule, that none but nobles
were citizens.

While the general diet thus received its character as the representation
of the nobility, elected in the provincial assemblies, another body now
gradually assumed an active existence. The highest civil and religious
officers of the kingdom formed a senate; and they were constituted
members, not because they were great proprietors, but in consequence of
the office, to which they had been named by the king.

Casimir was succeeded by his three sons. Under the first, John Albert,
the power of the oligarchy was confirmed, and not a semblance of an
independent prerogative remained to the crown. Under Alexander, it was
further decreed by the diet, that nothing should in future be
transacted, except _communi consensu_. The nobility had already usurped
all the sovereign authority; they now in their zeal to confirm their
usurpations, introduced the ambiguous clause, which was afterwards to be
perverted to their own ruin. A dismal inadvertence failed to insert,
that the will of the majority should be binding; and hence it became
possible at a later day to interpret the law, as investing each deputy
with a tribunicial authority. Under Sigismund, the third son of Casimir,
all attempts to restore the royal authority were futile. The equality of
the nobles was established by law;--yet a portion of them already began
to look with contempt on their less wealthy peers, and would gladly have
separated themselves from the great mass of "the plebeian nobility."

With Sigismund Augustus, the son of Sigismund, the race of the Jagellons
expired. At that time, Poland was still powerful; the Prince of Stettin
and the Prince of Prussia were its vassals; the palatines of Wallachia
and Moldavia owed allegiance to it; the Duke of Courland did it homage;
Livonia was incorporated among its territories. Nothing but a government
was wanting to render it one of the most brilliant states of Europe.
Copernicus had already rendered it illustrious in science; and, in no
part of Europe was the knowledge of the Latin language so generally
diffused.

Now that the royal dynasty was at an end, the succession to the throne,
which had hitherto been in part hereditary, became necessarily elective.
But no forms had been prescribed for the occasion. It was not known who
were the rightful depositaries of power during the interregnum, nor who
were possessed of a voice in the election of king. At length the right
of convoking the diet was assigned to the primate, and the elective
franchise was decided to appertain in an equal degree to each of the
nobles, without the intervention of electors.

To maintain religious peace was the next concern. The reformation had
made its way to Poland,--but not merely under the forms of Calvinism and
Lutheranism. The Socinians existed also as a powerful party. Those who
were not Catholics, were at variance with each other; the diet,
therefore, with great consideration, decreed, that no one should be
punished or persecuted for his religious opinions. The term,
_dissidents_, was originally used of them all, as expressing their
mutual differences; in process of time, it was, however, applied
exclusively to those who were out of the Roman church.

At length the day for the election arrived. The Polish nobility, each on
his war-horse, appeared at the appointed place in countless troops, and
it seemed as though an army had been assembled, rather than an electoral
body. The candidates were proposed,--the ambassadors of the leading
foreign powers admitted to address the electors, and freedom given to
any Pole to offer himself as a candidate, for the suffrages of his
countrymen. Yet, before proceeding to the election, a constitution was
formed, embodying all the privileges of the oligarchy, and conferring on
that order, the unequivocal sovereignty. After this work was
accomplished, the vote was taken, and Henry of Anjou was chosen king.

It was wise for the nation, which showed a spirit of religious
tolerance, to exact of their new king, a pledge in favour of religious
peace. An oath was not too strong a guarantee to be required of him, who
was a leader in the massacre of St. Bartholomy's night! It was wise,
also, to require money and other advantageous stipulations of France.
But the Poles felt still greater satisfaction in the law which was now
established, prohibiting the choice of a successor, during the lifetime
of the king.

The Duke of Anjou left the siege of Rochelle for the Polish crown; and
four months after his coronation, he fled from Poland by night, as a
fugitive, on horseback, accompanied by seven attendants. The Poles,
dismayed and humiliated by the procedure, fixed a limit for his return,
and when that period had expired, they declared the throne to be vacant,
and proceeded to a new election.

Stephen Bathory, the duke of Transylvania, was the successful candidate.
Under his short reign, Poland saw the last years of its prosperity; and
from the epoch of his death, the spirit of faction prevailed over every
sentiment of justice or patriotism. The king had no further authority to
concede; and internal feuds, sustained by the most bitter passions, now
divided the nobility.

It was in 1586 that king Stephen died. At that time Poland extended from
Brandenburgh and Silesia to Esthonia; its power along the Baltic was
undisputed; and the shores of the Euxine had as yet submitted to no
other dominion. Wallachia and Hungary were its southern limits; while,
in the east, it still contended with Russia for an extended frontier.
Its soil was productive of the most valuable returns; its plains were
intersected by navigable rivers; its population amounted to sixteen
millions, and its resources seemed to promise the means of easily
sustaining more than three-fold that number. The principle of religious
equality was recognized by its law; and it believed itself to possess a
greater degree of liberty than any nation of Europe. How could such a
state, so magnificent in its resources, so commanding in its actual
strength, so celebrated for daring valour, sink into the gloom and
debility of anarchy? How could such a nation in its glory submit to
unconnected activity, and, like the fabled Titan, suffer the birds of
prey to gorge upon its vitals, without one effectual struggle in
self-defence?

The wildest spirit of party was displayed at the next election of a
king. The factions were respectively led by two powerful and ambitious
families; and to the former evils in the state were now added those
political feuds, fostered by the passion for aggrandizement, and
rendered virulent by the excess of personal hatred. The dominant party
declared Sigismund III. to be elected the king of Poland.

The new king was, unluckily, first, an imbecile and narrow-minded man,
with all the obstinacy belonging to weakness; next, he was heir to the
Swedish throne; thirdly, he was a bigotted Catholic; and, lastly, and
for Poland the saddest of all, he lived to reign forty-five years. His
blind stupidity left the storms of party to rage unrestrained, and the
usurpations of the nobility to proceed unchecked: his hereditary claim
on Sweden, which wisely rejected his right, and preferred Gustavus
Adolphus, led to a war, in which Poland was the chief sufferer; his
bigotry prevented him from healing the intestine divisions by wise
toleration; and, finally, his long life gave almost every one of his
neighbours an opportunity of aggrandizement by aggressions on his realm.
The dismemberment of the Polish dominions began. The Porte secured
Moldavia; the Swedes took possession of Livonia and Courland; and,
though the short anarchy in Russia led to some success in that quarter,
it was a greater loss that the Elector of Brandenburgh, contrary to the
stipulations of ancient treaties, claimed and obtained the succession to
the fief of the Prussian Dutchy. In short, the reign of Sigismund was
marked by deadly errors of policy, and foolish obstinacy of character.
The continued oppression of the peasantry, and the constant recurrence
of eventual losses in wars, were in no degree compensated by the display
of warlike virtues on the part of a democratic nobility.

It was of little advantage to the Poles, that Ladislaus IV., the son and
successor of Sigismund, was a man of distinguished merit. At his
accession the nobles devised a new condition. Hitherto they had guarded
themselves against taxation; they now proceeded to tax the king. For a
long period, one quarter of the income of the royal domains had been set
apart for the military service, especially for the artillery; they now
demanded a concession of a full moiety. But, it may be asked, what was
done for the people? The answer would be, absolutely nothing. It did not
seem to be imagined, that the labouring class had any rights; not a law
was proposed for the benefit of the millions, who cultivated the soil.
Even the peasants on the estates of the king were equally
oppressed;--why? It was the nobles who farmed the royal domains.

Every thing stagnated. Every thing, do we say? The natural instinct of
freedom in the Cossacks could brook their abject servitude no longer.
They reclaimed their partial independence, complained that their rights
were infringed, and found demagogues, who were desirous and were able to
lead them.

At this crisis the king died, and his brother, John Casimir, a man tried
by misfortunes, who, having been the inmate of a French dungeon,
afterwards, from disappointment and chagrin, became a Jesuit and a
Cardinal, was elected his successor.

The powers and the revenues of the king had been plundered; one thing
more was alone wanting to give full development to the Polish
constitution. In the year 1652, a diet was dissolved by the opposition
of a single deputy; this was remarkable enough; but it was still more
strange, that what had been once effected by passion, should remain an
acknowledged right; and that while the country rung with curses against
the deputy who had set the example, the power should still have been
claimed as a sacred privilege. No redress could be obtained except by
confederations; and it was now the height of anarchy, that public law
recognized these separate assemblies. Indeed, the days of the _liberum
veto_ were necessarily the days of legalized insurrection. It was a sort
of dictatorship, invented for the new contingency. Only the misery was,
that there could be as many confederations as there were separate
factions.

Poland had, all this while, formidable foreign enemies to encounter. The
Swedes, the Czar, the Porte, were all greedy for aggrandizement. This
was no time for domestic dissensions. The only wonder is, that the
nation could have resisted its enemies at all. As it was, several
provinces were lost; in 1657, the Duke of Prussia seized the opportunity
of freeing himself altogether from his relation as vassal to the Polish
crown.

The melancholy Casimir could not endure all this. He held a diet in
1661, and told the deputies plainly: "First or last, our state will be
divided by our neighbours. Russia will extend itself to the Bug, and
perhaps to the Vistula; the Elector of Brandenburgh will seize upon
Great Poland and the neighbouring districts; and Austria will not remain
behind, but will take Cracau and other places." The prophecy was uttered
in vain; and a few years after, the philosophic monarch, having buried
his wife, for whose sake alone he had been willing to reign, resigned
the crown, and removed to France.

This was a new state of things. A diet of election was convened, and the
decree ratified, that _henceforward no king of Poland should be allowed
to resign_. One would think the decree very flattering to the nation!

The next object was the choice of a king. We have seen, that the Poles
had usually elected a member of the previous royal family. They had
adhered to the Jagellons, and now also to the Sigismunds, until the
families were extinct. The field was therefore open; and this time the
division lay, not between contending factions of the high aristocracy,
but between the high aristocracy, on the one hand, and the "plebeian
nobility," on the other. The party of "the many" prevailed; and the
electoral vote was given to Michael Wisniowiecki, a man of great private
worth, poor, as to his fortunes, modest, and retiring. The joy of the
inferior nobility was at its height; and the shouts of the noble
multitude, and the salutes from the artillery, proclaimed aloud the
triumphs of equality. Poor Michael declined the honour, in vain. He
entreated, with tears in his eyes, to be released from it. His tears
were equally vain. He made his escape from the electoral field on
horseback; the deputies pursued him and compelled him to be king.

From the commencement of his reign the faction of the high aristocracy
opposed him. The first diet which he convened was broken up; the senate
was openly discontented; the enthusiasm of the nobility grew cool; and
it was found that a mistake had been committed. The Cossacks were
tumultuous; the Turks pursued a ruinous war, terminated only by a
disgraceful peace. The nation was indignant; a new war was decreed;
when, fortunately for himself and the state, the king died. John
Sobieski, the leader of the aristocracy, succeeded.

The relief of Vienna, in 1683, is the crowning glory of Sobieski. His
subsequent campaigns were unsuccessful; for he had neither sufficient
troops, nor money, nor provisions, nor artillery. Nor was he happy in
his family. The great champion of Christendom was governed by his wife,
and the nation sneered at his weakness. His ambition as a father led him
to desire, during his lifetime, the election of his son as successor.
Unable to accomplish this, he took to avarice, not a very respectable
passion for a private man, but a very dangerous one for a prince. But in
avarice he had able auxiliaries in his wife and the Jews. Every thing
was venal; and the king grew rich, without growing happy. As a last
resort, he tried retirement and letters. But the pursuit of letters, in
itself intrinsically exalted, must be chosen in its own right, if
happiness is to be won by it; to the disappointed statesman it is but a
mere shield against despair; a sort of philosopher's robe to hide the
ghastliness of sullen discontent. Sobieski found in the Latin classics,
which he diligently read, no healing "medicine for the soul diseased;"
and the atrabilious humours of his wife, and the torment of his station,
and his mental discontent, all combined to hasten his death. He passed
from this world on the same hour and the same day as his election.

We have traced the progress of the infringements upon the royal
authority; we have seen the election of the king decided by a faction in
an oligarchy, by a rabble of noblemen, by the high aristocracy; the next
election was decided by bribes. Two strong parties only appeared; the
French, which declared for Conti, and the Saxon, which advocated the
interests of the Elector Augustus. But the French ambassador had
distributed all his money, while the Saxon envoy was still in Funds. So
each party chose its own king; each made proclamation of its sovereign;
each sung its anthem in the Cathedral; but the French party subsided, as
soon as the primate, its chief support, could agree upon his price.

Thus the Saxon elector prevailed. He was one of the most dissolute
princes of the age; and an unbounded luxury and abandoned profligacy
were introduced by him among the higher orders in Poland. The morals of
the nobility now became nearly as bad as their political constitution.
What need have we to dwell on the personal war which Augustus II.
commenced against Charles XII. of Sweden; the defeats he sustained; his
forced resignation of the crown; the appointment of Stanislaus in his
stead; and his own restoration after the battle of Pultawa? The leading
point in his history is this: that with him the Russian ascendency in
Poland was established. All the rest of Europe was rapidly advancing in
culture; the only change in Poland was the predominance of Russia.

On the death of Augustus II. the majority of the votes was in favour of
Stanislaus; but the vicinity of a Russian army sustained the pretensions
of Augustus III. His reign, if reign it may be termed, extended through
a period of thirty years. They were interrupted by no wars; not because
the nation desired or profited by peace, but in consequence of the
general inertness, the universal languor, the unqualified anarchy. The
king possessed no power, except through the miserable expedients of an
intriguing cabinet. The cities were deserted; the regular administration
of justice was unknown; and the barbarism of the middle ages reverted.
Nothing preserved Poland in existence, but the jealousies of surrounding
powers.

The last king of Poland was chosen under the dictation of Russian arms,
at the express desire of Catharine the Second. Stanislaus Poniatowski
was crowned at Warsaw in 1764, and ascended the throne with
philanthropic intentions, but with a feeble purpose. His reign
illustrates the vast inferiority of the virtues of the heart to the
virtues of the will. The difficulties of his position do not excuse his
own imbecility; and while the paralysis of the nation was complete, he
was himself deficient in the manly virtues of a sovereign.

Within nine years after his accession to the throne, the first
dismemberment of Poland was consummated. The student of human nature
might ask, by what mighty armies the division was effected? What
overwhelming force could lead a nation of nobles to submit to the
degradation? What bloody battles were fought, what victories were won in
the struggle? It might be supposed, that all Poland would have started
as if electrified; that the ground would have been disputed, inch by
inch; that every town would have become a citadel, garrisoned by the
stern lovers of independence and national honour.

The fall of Poland was ignominious. Not one battle was fought, not one
siege was necessary for effecting the division. Anarchy, intolerance,
scandalous dissensions, an imbecile sovereign, these were the
instruments which accomplished the ruin of the state.

The personal adherents of Stanislaus had designed to change the form of
government from a legal anarchy to a limited monarchy. This patriotic
design of the Czartorinskis was defeated by the hot-headed zeal of the
republican party, by the influence of Russia, and most of all, by the
excesses of intolerable bigotry.

The dissidents had, in the early part of the century, incurred
suspicion, as the secret adherents of Sweden. If in England, where
culture had made such advances, the Catholics could be disfranchised, is
it strange, that in Poland, a vehement party was opposed to the
toleration of Protestants? In 1717, unconstitutional enactments had been
made to their injury; and at subsequent periods, the religious tyranny
had proceeded so far as to exclude the dissident from all civil
privileges. They were excluded from the national representation, and
declared incapable of participating in any public magistracy whatever.

On the accession of Stanislaus it was hoped that a more moderate and
equitable spirit would prevail. Stanislaus himself favoured the cause of
religious freedom. The dissidents made a very moderate request for the
establishment of freedom of worship, without claiming the restitution of
all their franchises. The zealots, strengthened by the opponents of the
king, would concede absolutely nothing; and as in politics religious
parties have always exhibited the most deadly hostility, so in this case
Poland was more distracted than ever.

The Russian ambassador immediately seized the opportunity of making
Russian influence predominant under the mask of protecting liberty of
conscience. The empress demanded for the dissidents a perfect equality
with the Catholics; and amidst scenes of tumultuous discussion and
legislative frenzy, the demand was rejected. The highest religious zeal
became combined with a detestation of Russian interference, and
unbridled passion accomplished its utmost.

The dissidents, unsuccessful in their application to the diet,
confederated under Russian protection; and as the proceedings of the
king had excited a vague apprehension of some encroachments on the
privileges of the nobles, the confederates were joined by the opponents
of the king also. In this way a general confederation was formed
agreeably to the established usage in Poland; but the whole was under
the guidance and control of Repnin, the Russian ambassador.

When the general diet was convened in 1767, so large a Russian army was
already encamped in Poland, that Repnin was able to dictate the
petitions and the complaints which were to be presented for
consideration. No foreign power interfered. France and Austria were
exhausted; and Frederic was careful to preserve a good understanding
with his great Northern ally.

But with all this, some refractory spirits appeared in the diet. No
terrors could subdue the inflexible and impassioned spirit of Soltyk,
Zaluski, and the two Rzewuskis. And what was done by an ambassador of
the foreign power in the capital of a free and mighty state? Repnin
ordered the resolute patriots to be seized by night and transported to
Siberia. Horror chilled the nation at the outrage, and the rage of
despair filled all but the partisans of Russia. The ambassador of
Catharine was now able to dictate to the diet all the decrees relating
to the dissidents, and all the other laws which were enacted at the
session. It was plain, that he did not understand the wants of the
dissidents; but he took care to render the continuance of Russian
interference necessary for their security.

It was the misfortune of the Polish patriots, that the defence of their
nationality became identified with the most furious form of religious
bigotry. The diet had not terminated its session before a new
confederation convened at Bar, and contending against the Russians on
the one hand, attempted to depose the king on the other. But the
confederation was easily dissolved by the Russian army, and its leaders
were obliged to fly for refuge beyond the frontier.

Thus the cause of the Poles seemed to be abandoned by all the world. The
efforts of the king were insignificant; the nobles were many of them in
the pay of Russia, the rest of them divided by civil, religious, and
family factions; and England and France were idle spectators of the
approaching dissolution of the Polish state.

Yet one power there was, whose ancient maxim would not allow a Russian
army in Poland. While all the Christian monarchs neglected or joined to
pillage the unhappy land, the Porte declared war against the aggressor.
The issue of that contest is well known; and the power of Russia was but
the more confirmed by her entire success in the war. Russian ascendancy
in the North and East became established, and the last hope of Poland
was removed.

When at length the three principal powers invaded Poland, and published
their manifesto, proclaiming its dismemberment, the nation submitted
almost without a struggle. The blow came as upon one in a lethargy. The
revelries of the wealthy nobility, the feuds of the great families, and
the wretchedness of the peasantry, continued as before.

It may be asked, who first planned the partition of Poland? We believe
it was Frederic. Austria was indeed the first to advance her frontier;
but every thing tends rather to show, that the Austrian cabinet insisted
upon its share, only because the robbery was at all events to be
committed; and Russia had no interest in proposing a division, for she
already virtually possessed the whole. Frederic, on the contrary, was
earnestly desirous of consolidating and uniting his kingdom, of which
the parts were before divided by Polish provinces.

Previous to this first division in 1773, Poland had possessed a
territory of about 220,000 miles; her neighbours now left her about
166,000. Prussia and Austria would gladly have taken more; but Russia
protected the residue, as prey reserved for herself.

Or rather, the Russian ambassador in Warsaw, was from that time the real
sovereign over the land. A secret article in the treaty with Prussia
guaranteed the liberties and constitution of Poland, that is, stipulated
that the state of anarchy should continue.

And yet it seems surprising, that a nation of fourteen millions, and of
proverbial valor should have submitted without a blow. The result can be
explained only from the abject state to which the peasantry had become
reduced, and the immense gulf which separated the nobility from the
people.

But a new epoch was opening in the history of the world. The United
States of America had achieved their independence, and established their
liberties. The impulse was instantaneously felt throughout Europe, and
it extended to Poland. The relative position of the Northern European
powers was also changed. The alliance between Russia and Prussia had
expired in 1780, nor had the Empress been willing to renew it. On the
contrary, the alliance of Austria was preferred, and the new associates
combined to engage in a war with the Porte. The purpose of dismembering
the Turkish state was avowed, and the Poles foresaw full well, that
their own territory would next be coveted. They therefore determined to
shake off the intolerable yoke of foreign interference, and, observing
that their constitution was absolutely in ruins, they ventured to
attempt a reconstruction of their state.

The condition of the public mind in France had its share of influence.
The Polish nobility had long been partial to the language and manners of
France. Nor were the two countries in situations wholly unlike. Both
states were disorganized; one was suffering from anarchy, the other
tending to it; and both needed a renewal of their youth. On the Seine
and on the Vistula, a new order of things was demanded. The United
States had been the first state in the world to introduce a written
constitution; Poland was now the first country in Europe to imitate the
example.

It was in October, 1788, that the revolutionary diet assembled at
Warsaw. It assembled tranquilly: for Austria and Russia were at war with
the Porte, and Sweden had also threatened St. Petersburg from the north.
Its first decree abolished the _liberum veto_. Henceforward, the will of
the majority was to be the law.

But even yet the spirit of faction was unsubdued. A Russian party,--a
minority, it is true, yet, under the circumstances, a formidable one,
introduced divisions into the diet. The king himself had not lofty
independence enough to join heartily with the patriots, but still
continued to hope for the political safety of his country, from the
clemency of Catharine.

A treaty of alliance with Russia against the Porte, was proposed to the
diet and rejected, in part, through the influence of Prussia. It was
next voted to raise the Polish army, from 18,000 to 60,000; and, if
possible, to 100,000 men. To effect this object, the nobility and clergy
voluntarily submitted to taxation. The control of the army was entrusted
not to the king, but to a special commission.

Some foreign support was next desired; and the political position of
Prussia, gorged though she had been with the spoils of Poland, seemed
yet under the reign of its new king to offer a safe and resolute
protector. The court of Berlin published to the world its determination
to guarantee the independence of Poland, and to avoid all interference
in its internal concerns.

Stanislaus wavered, and evidently leaned to the Russian side. The
decision of the diet at length won him over to the party of the
patriots;--and he agreed to assist in expelling the Russian army from
the Polish soil, in forming a constitution, and in soliciting the
concurrence of other nations in repressing the unmeasured aggrandizement
of Russia. These proceedings were not without effect;--in June of the
following year, the ambassador of Catharine announced that her army had
left Poland, and would not again cross its boundaries.

The diet now advanced to the work of framing a constitution; while the
representatives of the third estate were, in the meanwhile, admitted to
a seat in the assembly.

The alliance with Prussia was, however, delayed, partly by means of
Russian intrigue, but still more, because Frederic William demanded the
cession of Dantzig. On this point, divisions ensued, which were never
reconciled. But, in March, 1790, a treaty of peace and alliance between
Poland and Prussia was signed, containing a guarantee of each other's
possessions, and a mutual pledge of assistance, in case of an attack
from abroad. Should any foreign nation attempt interference in the
internal concerns of Poland, the court of Berlin pledged itself to
render every assistance by means of negotiations, and, if they failed,
to make use of its whole military force.

But, alas, for the plighted faith of princes! The time of this treaty
was a very critical juncture. Joseph II. of Austria was dead; Prussia
was in alliance with the Porte, and of course exposed to a war with
Russia; and the negotiations for a general peace in the congress of
Reichenbach, were not yet begun. At that congress, Prussia revealed its
will to become master of Dantzig and Thorn; and it was not deemed an
impossible thing to induce King Frederic William to be false to his
word, which had been plighted to the Poles.

The period, during which a diet might legally continue, having expired,
a new one was convened December 16th, 1790. It consisted of all who had
been members of the former diet, and of an equal number of additional
members. The new infusion increased the strength of the patriotic party.
In January, 1791, they voted the punishment of death against any who
should receive a pension from a foreign power; in April, they extended
the right of citizenship to mechanics, and all free people of the
Christian religion;--a _habeas corpus_ act was passed, protecting all
residents in the cities.

Finally, on the 3d of May, 1791, the long desired new Polish
constitution was promulgated. The king repaired to the cathedral, and,
at the high altar, swore to maintain it; the illustrious nobles imitated
the example,--all Warsaw celebrated the day as a memorable festival.

The new constitution made the Roman Catholic religion the ruling
religion in Poland,--but conceded full liberty to other forms of
worship. It confirmed the privileges of the nobility, and the charters
of the cities; it gave to the peasantry the right of making compacts
with their over lord, and placed the inhabitants of the open country,
under the protection of the laws and the government. Poland was called a
republic. The supremacy of the will of the people was distinctly
recognized; but, for the sake of civil freedom, order, and security, the
government was composed of three separate branches. _The legislative_
was divided into two chambers,--that of the deputies and the senators;
the former, the popular branch, was esteemed the sacred source of
legislation; the latter, under the presidency of the king, could accept
a law, or postpone its consideration. The decision was according to a
majority of voices. The _liberum veto_ was abolished; confederations
were prohibited as inconsistent with the genius of the constitution; and
it was provided, that, after every quarter of a century, the
constitution should be revised and amended. _The executive_, composed of
the king and his cabinet, was bound to carry the laws into effect; but
it could neither number nor interpret them, nor impose taxes, nor borrow
money, nor declare war, nor make peace, nor conclude treaties
definitively. The crown ceased to be elective, and was declared to be
hereditary in the family of the elector of Saxony. _The judiciary_
shared in the general improvement.

The majority of the nation loudly applauded the results of the diet, and
the western cabinets of Europe were satisfied. The British Parliament
was eloquent in the praises of the new order of things, and Austria and
Prussia united in negotiating with Russia for the recognition of the
constitution, and the indivisibility of Poland.

Catharine II. preserved an ominous silence, till the peace of Jassy was
concluded, and her armies were ready for action. She then rejected the
interference of the two powers, who had attempted to check her
career,--and, listening to the requests of a few factious and misguided
members of the ancient Polish oligarchy, she proceeded to denounce the
spirit of revolutions. The Polish diet rejoined with dignity and
moderation, expressed its intentions of peace with respect to the rest
of Europe, and published its determined resolution to maintain the
independence of its country, and its new form of government. It then
applied to the neighbouring powers for assistance;--but Lucchesini, the
Prussian envoy, gave evasive answers to all questions respecting an
impending war, and especially avoided all written communications; and
the elector of Saxony, after some wavering, declined the intended honour
of the Polish crown for his family.

Meanwhile the war of Austria and Prussia against France had begun; and
now the way was open to Russia to invade Poland, Lucchesini, the
Prussian envoy, declared, May 4th, 1792, that his king had not
participated in framing the new constitution, and was not bound to its
defence; while, on the 18th of the same month, Catharine censured the
new government "as adverse to Polish liberties," and declared that she
made war "to rescue Poland from its oppressors." While a confederation
of factious refugees was made at Targowitz, according to the ancient
usage of the anarchy, the Russians precipitated themselves upon the
distracted kingdom in two great masses. The Poles, under Joseph
Poniatowski and Kosciusko, fought with undaunted valour, but
unsuccessfully. On the 30th of May, King Stanislaus ordered a general
levy of the population. On the 4th of July, he expressed his
determination to share the fate of the nation, and to die with it if
necessary, rather than survive its independent existence: and oh! the
misery of a gallant nation, with a pusillanimous chief, on the 23d of
July he declared his adhesion to the confederation of Targowitz. A
vehement scolding letter from Catharine had effected the change in his
heroism. The movements of the Polish army were stopped by his order;
while Joseph Poniatowski and Kosciusko resigned their places. The
leading patriots poured out their souls in eloquent regrets at the last
assembly of the diet, and travelled abroad.

The innocent confederates having, after the king's adhesion, added many
names to their former number, were now assembled at Grodno, fully
relying on the magnanimous clemency of Catharine, to maintain the
integrity of their state. Just then the German army was returning from
its excursion in Champagne, where it had won no laurels; and Prussia,
having obtained the reluctant assent of Austria, claimed, as a
compensation for its ill success against France, the privilege of a new
inroad upon its neighbour; and in January, 1793, its army took
possession of Great Poland, under pretence of keeping the Jacobins in
order.

The confederates rubbed their eyes and began to awake; but it was only
to read the Prussian note of March 25th, 1793, declaring the necessity
of incorporating about 17,000 square miles of the Polish territory with
Prussia, "in order," as it was kindly intimated, "to give to the
republic of Poland limits better suited to its internal strength." Two
days after the publication of this note, Dantzig was seized, to check
the progress of a dangerous political sect. Two days more, and Russia
declared its willingness to incorporate into its empire about 73,000
square miles of Poland, and three millions of inhabitants. The diet at
Grodno showed some signs of obstinacy; but was obliged to assent to the
terms dictated by their ally and their protector. The confederation of
Targowitz was now dissolved; it had done its work.

The anger of the Poles was frenzied. They were indignant at every thing;
but to them it was the bitterest of all, that Frederic William should
have had a share in the plunder.

There now remained to Poland about 76,000 square miles, and between
three and four millions of inhabitants. The neighbouring powers
generously renounced all further claims, became joint guarantees of the
remainder, and promised that now the diet might make any constitution it
pleased. How far the good pleasure of the diet was independent, may be
inferred from the treaty concluded in October with Russia; of which the
conditions were, that Poland should leave to Russia the conduct of all
future wars, allow the entrance of Russian troops, and frame its foreign
treaties only under the Russian sanction. The diet of Grodno signed this
treaty November 24th, 1793, and adjourned. Igelstrom, the general of the
Russian army, was constituted the Russian ambassador in Poland. It is
evident, that Catharine proposed no further _division_ of Poland; she
intended to lay claim to the whole that remained; and as a preparatory
step, caused a large part of the Polish army to be disbanded.

The party of the patriots determined upon one final effort; and a new
confederation was made at Cracau. Its aims extended to the establishment
of the internal and external independence of their country, and the
restoration of its ancient limits. Kosciusko was called from his
retirement at Leipzig, to be the generalissimo of the Patriot army. A
supreme council was established, with plenary authority, till the
national independence should be recovered; and then a representative
constitution was to be formed by a general convention. The movement was
national; the Poles were invited to rise in the defence of their
country; and those between eighteen and twenty-seven years of age were
to serve in the armies; the elder men to constitute the militia.

Success beamed upon the first efforts in the field; and the victory of
Raclawice, April 4th, 1794, breathed inspiration into every heart. The
Prussian armies continued their encroachments; the Austrians offered no
hope of succour; and the king had declared in favour of the Russians.
But the victory of Kosciusko inspired such hopes, that, just as
Igelstrom was preparing to exile twenty-six men, whom he could not bend,
and to disarm the Polish garrison, the people of Warsaw rose in arms.
The Russians were defeated; more than 2000 fell; an equal number were
made prisoners; Igelstrom, with the remainder, fled from Warsaw. Thus
was Good Friday celebrated in Poland, in 1794.

It was ominous, however, for the eventual success of the patriots, that,
though they were joined by Lithuania, the dismembered provinces made no
movements towards an insurrection. In the Prussian, a strong military
police maintained military quiet; in the Russian, there was still less
room for hope, since the peasantry knew nothing about politics, and the
nobility having lost nothing in the exchange of allegiance, remained
contented. Secret cabals were also active in gaining partisans for the
foreign powers; some tendencies to the licentious influence of the
passions of the multitude, were observed with apprehension; and the
spirit of faction had not yet learnt to yield to the exalted sentiment
of general patriotism.

The supreme national council, now established in Warsaw, had neither
money nor credit. Cracau surrendered to the Prussians; Lithuania was
given up after a hard struggle; and though the Poles could have coped
victoriously with the Prussians, yet the advance of Suwarrow seemed to
portend a fatal issue. On the 10th of October, the last battle in which
Kosciusko commanded, was bravely contested; but in consequence of the
faithlessness of one of his generals, Poninski, the Polish cavalry
yielded. Kosciusko rallied them, was thrown from his horse, grievously
wounded, and made a prisoner by the Cossacks. FINIS POLONIÆ, was his
exclamation as he fell.

The contest now centered round Praga, which was defended by a hundred
cannon, and the flower of the Polish army. Suwarrow, whose name is
unrivalled as the ruthless stormer of cities, commanded the assault. It
ensued on the 4th of November. The bridge over the Vistula was
destroyed; more than eight thousand Poles fell in battle; more than
twelve thousand inhabitants of the town were murdered, drowned, or
burned to death in their houses. On November 6th, the capitulation of
Warsaw was signed upon the smoking ruins of Praga.

The third division of Poland was complete. No permission was asked. The
three powers signed the treaty of partition, and promised each other
aid, in case of attack; but no formal communication of the procedure was
made to any foreign country. A declaration only was presented to the
German diet. Napoleon could, therefore, truly say, in 1806, that France
had never recognised the partition of Poland.

And King Stanislaus? He was angry, and wept, and took up and threw down
the pen, and fainted, and wept again; and January, 1795, signed the
document of abdication. They agreed to pay him 200,000 ducats a year. It
was more than he merited. He would have made a very charitable almoner,
a very liberal patron, to second rate artists and men of letters. But
excellence of heart, when coupled with debility of purpose, is but a
sorry character for every day concerns; in a ruler it becomes the most
deadly pusillanimity. And now for the romance; for Catharine loved
romance. The letter of abdication was forwarded to St. Petersburg by a
courier, who arrived on the very birthday of the empress, and in the
midst of the festival, presented it to her in the form of a bouquet.
What a commentary on despotism! A nation struck out of existence to
grace a gala! If men may thus be sported with in masses, if the
concentrated existence of a people may be made the pastime of a woman's
fancy, well did the ancient exclaim, how contemptible a thing is man, if
we do not raise our view beyond his deeds!

The result of what we have written, established the truth, that the fall
of Poland was an event which destiny had been preparing for centuries.
In an age of barbarism, a great nation had become resolved into separate
principalities, and an aristocracy, not definitely limited, if not
absolute, had sprung up. The family of the Jagellons came to the throne
by a compromise with that nobility; at the extinction of that family, a
tumultuous mob exercised tumultuously, by a sort of general enthusiasm,
the privilege of electing a monarch; enthusiasm declining, a faction of
the high oligarchy succeeded in the election of Sigismund III.; with
Michael, the inferior nobility came into power; with Sobieski was
introduced the influence of the high nobility, and of female intrigue;
with Augustus II. came the reign of gross and undisguised venality; with
Augustus III. the controlling presence of a foreign army and domestic
anarchy; with Stanislaus the wild fury of religious bigotry, in
collision with the treacherous liberality of foreign influence. Every
thing had had its day but the real nation; of them no notice had been
taken; and though Poland was called a republic, it was a republic
without a people. The royal power, the tumultuous patriotism of a
nobility, the oligarchical feuds, the democracy of the nobility, the
high aristocracy, downright bribery, the direct presence and
interference of foreign troops, each had had its period; and is it
strange that the anarchy of Poland had become complete? There was not
only no government virtually, but even the forms did not exist, by which
a government could be effectually set in motion. Is it strange, then,
that the party of the patriots was unable to triumph over the obstacles
in their path, since they had to contend with the strongest foreign
powers, with a domestic political chaos, and with a destiny, which had
for ages doomed their country to destruction? The Russians and their
coadjutors could never have accomplished their purpose, if the ancestors
of the Poles had not themselves prepared the way.

The world would have heard no more of the Polish state, but for the
simultaneous revolution in France. There the issue was as different, as
the abuses which required remedy, and the instruments which could be
applied for their correction. In Poland there was no middling class; in
France the revolution sprung from the middling class; in Poland the
contest was against the anarchy of an oligarchy; in France against the
impending anarchy of superannuated absolutism. Both nations were fertile
in great men; both had patriots disciplined in the school of America;
both suffered from internal dissensions; both were attacked by the
refugees from their own country, under the banners of foreign monarchs;
both suffered from the hesitancy of inefficient kings; both contended
with the greatest financial difficulties; but in France there existed a
free yeomanry, a free class of mechanics, a free, numerous, and
cultivated order of citizens; while in Poland, there was almost no
intermediate class between the nobility and the serfs. In that lies the
secret of the different issue of their struggles. Poland was the victim
of the American revolution; France its monument. Poland was erased from
among the nations of the earth; while France put forth a gigantic
strength in the triumphant defence of its nationality. Poland, brightly
though it had shone for ages in the eastern heavens, was blotted out,
while the star of France, rising in a lurid sky, through clouds of
blood, was at length able to unveil the peerless light of liberty, and
lead the host of modern states in the high career of civil improvement.

After the victories of Napoleon over Prussia, the peace of Tilsit
restored a portion of Poland to an independent existence as a Grand
Dutchy. The loss of national existence, and the disgust at submitting to
foreign forms, had excited discontent; and the race still lived, which
had witnessed the two last partitions of their country. Napoleon's
answer to the Polish deputies, "that he was willing to see if the Poles
still deserved to be a nation," resounded through the provinces; and
troops assembled hastily between the Vistula and the Niemen. But in
Posen, the French emperor set Austria at rest as to Galicia; and when he
became the personal friend of Alexander, nothing could be wrested from
Russia. Thus the relations of Napoleon enabled him to dispose only of
Polish Prussia; and of that, Bialystock was ceded to the Czar, while
Prussia still retained a territory sufficient to connect East-Prussia
with Brandenburgh. Thus the new Grand Dutchy of Warsaw, under the
hereditary sway of the Saxon king, and constituting a portion of the
French empire, contained but less than twenty-nine thousand square
miles, and less than two and a half millions of inhabitants. Its
constitution was given, July 22, 1807. Slavery was abolished, and
equality before the law decreed. Two chambers were created, and a diet
was to be convened at least once in two years, for fifteen days. The
_initiative_ of laws belonged to the Grand Duke; the chamber of deputies
was to be renewed, one-third every three years. The code of Napoleon was
made the law of the land.

In the peace of 1809, the Grand Dutchy was increased by further
restorations from Austria; though Russia took advantage of that
emergency to demand from its Austrian ally, also a territory of great
value, with a population of four hundred thousand souls.

The great expedition against Russia, in 1812, was called by Napoleon his
second Polish war. It was his professed object to restrain Russia, and
to circumscribe her limits. A proclamation to the Poles promised the
restoration of their state, with larger boundaries even than under their
last king; and the Poles rose with their wonted enthusiasm. It was a
point of honour with their young men to serve in the army; the middling
class would accept no pay, while the rich lavished their fortunes, and
the women their ornaments, for the defence and restoration of their
nation.

Yet, when in June, Napoleon entered Wilna, the Lithuanians showed little
disposition to unite with their brethren of Warsaw; and the emperor's
answers, as to the future condition of Poland, were too vague to inspire
confidence. The eventual defeat of Napoleon, brought the Russians into
the pursuit, and the Grand Dutchy was occupied by their armies.

In the close of 1814, the fate of Poland was at issue on the
deliberations of the congress of Vienna. While Prussia demanded the
cession of all Saxony, Russia claimed Poland, including Austrian
Galicia. Encountering strong opposition, the emperor Alexander in his
turn formed a Polish army, and issued a proclamation to the Poles,
inviting them to arm under his auspices for the defence of their
country, and the preservation of their political independence, while
Austria, Great Britain, and France, formed a treaty for resistance. But
for the return of Napoleon from Elba, the congress of Vienna would
probably have issued in a war between its members. A compromise ensued,
it conformity with which, Russia retained nearly all which in had gained
of Prussia in the peace of Tilsit, and of Austria in 1809, and further
acquired all the Grand Dutchy of Warsaw, except Posen, which fell to
Prussia, and Cracau, which was left in neutral independence.
Constitutions were promised to the respective parts, and have been,
after a manner, conceded.

The constitution issued for Poland, November 27, 1815, by the emperor
Alexander, was an attempt to conciliate the liberal sympathies of the
people. Religious equality, freedom of the press, security of personal
liberty against arbitrary procedures, the responsibility of all
magistrates, and an assurance of all civil and military offices in
Poland to Poles, were the leading features of the compact. The power of
making treaties, of declaring war, of controlling the armed force, and
of pardoning, was assured to the king; but all his commands were to be
countersigned by a minister, who should be held responsible in case of
any violation of the constitution. The diet, composed of two chambers,
was to be assembled once in two years; the king had the _initiative_ and
a _veto_.

At the opening of the diet, April 27, 1817, Alexander declared his
intention of gradually introducing into his immense empire, the salutary
influence of liberal institutions; and promised security of persons, and
of property, and freedom of opinions. "Representatives of Poland," said
he, "rise to the elevation on which destiny has placed you. You are
called upon to give a sublime example to Europe, whose eye is fixed upon
you." The Poles have in this latest period of their existence, shown no
reluctance to be true to themselves and to the world; but the revolution
of Spain, and Naples, and Greece, struck terror into the cabinet of
Alexander, and led him to abandon the sympathies which he had professed
for ameliorated forms of government. Accordingly, by an arbitrary
decree, February 13, 1825, he abolished the publicity of the assemblies
of the diet, and taught the Poles the true value of an apparently
liberal form of government, of which the fundamental principles might be
altered according to the caprices or the fears of an individual.

We have thus endeavoured, by a careful reference to numerous and exact
authorities, to which we have had access, to give some historical
explanations of the present Polish question. It seems plain, that there
is little room to hope for the re-establishment of Polish independence.
The provinces belonging to Austria, have most of them been under the
Austrian rule for nearly sixty years; and so, too, a large portion of
Polish Prussia has belonged to the Prussian monarchy, since 1773. The
still larger parts, which have been incorporated into the Russian
monarchy, seem to have learnt acquiescence in their condition. A kindred
dialect, and a sort of national relationship, have always rendered
Russian supremacy more tolerable to the Polish provinces, than that of
the dynasty of Hapsburg, or the court of Berlin. It is only in that
portion of Poland, where, by the establishment of the Grand Dutchy of
Warsaw under Napoleon, and by the erection of a nominally independent
kingdom, a spirit of irritation and change has fostered the honourable
passion for national existence, that the present revolution has been
supported with enthusiasm. The world will do honour to this last effort
of determined patriotism; but the liberties of Poland will be
reconquered only by the gradual progress of the moral power of
free-opinions, which is advancing in the majesty of its strength; over
the ruins of centuries and the graves of nations.


[Footnote 9: The emperor in no wise confused, is said to have replied,
"much obliged to you," and retained the present.]




    ART. IX.--_A Historical View of the Government of Maryland,
    from its Colonization to the present day._ By JOHN V. L.
    M'MAHON. Baltimore: 1831. Vol. 1. pp. 539.


The history of Maryland under the proprietary government is little
known, says our author, even to her own people. Yet, as that government
was the mould of her present institutions, the school of discipline for
her revolutionary men, it is to its history we must go back for just
notions of both. The revolution was not wrought by a few master minds,
miraculously born for the occasion, but was the natural development of a
train of causes which leave us less surprised at our ancestors' manful
and accordant resistance of usurpation, than at the strange ignorance of
them which seems to have begot the unwise designs of the mother country.

Montesquieu has observed, with his usual antithesis, "In the infancy of
societies, it is the leaders that create the institutions; afterwards,
it is the institutions which make the leaders." Perhaps, the former
event has in truth happened less often than received history would
persuade us. The more dim the dawn of tradition, the oftener we find
ascribed to the Lycurguses, the Numas, the Alfreds, either such original
establishments or such fundamental changes as would seem to have created
the civil or religious polity of their people anew. We know not how much
they were indebted to precedent and concurrent circumstances; and thus
obscurity may magnify their renown, as distant objects, according to a
figure of our author's, are exaggerated to the eye in a misty morning.
The vulgar, who do not trouble themselves with cavils, resolve the
result they perceive into the effort of some moral hero, just as the
Greeks referred to Hercules the feats which transcended the ordinary
limits of physical prowess.

The same thing takes place in a less degree, at periods whose history is
more authentically written. The leaders of revolutions may transmute, so
to speak, into personal merit, some of the results which, more narrowly
considered, are referrible to the pervading spirit and general movement
of the occasion. To weigh justly these elements of their renown, is not
invidiously to derogate from it, but only to vindicate the truth of
history. It still leaves them the highest merit to which, perhaps, the
leaders in any kind of reform can truly lay claim, that of seizing the
spirit of their age, and employing and directing it with a just energy
and discernment. As it has been said that Luther might have
ineffectually preached the Reformation in the twelfth century, and
Napoleon, if he had not been, in fact, but "the little corporal," might
have been no more than a leader of _Condottieri_ in the fourteenth; so
our revolutionary sages could hardly, in the circumstances of the
crisis, and amidst the men of the age, have been other than what they
were. Though they fought in the van of the war, they had, however, their
_Triarii_ to sustain them, a nation, namely, accustomed to the
discipline of liberty. The wave of opinion rolled high, and they had the
praise of launching their barks on it, with strength and skill indeed,
but yet with a propitious gale and a favouring current. The notices in
the volume before us, of the character and history of the colonists of
Maryland, show how the principles of liberty which they brought with
them to "this rough, uncultivated world," (such is their own description
of it,) they maintained with a uniform constancy and understanding.
Though colonial dependence has seldom been less burdensome in point of
fact than in their case, the abstract doctrines of political right were
not on that account guarded with the less vigilance. Thus, in our
author's language, "they were fitted for self-government before it came,
and when it came, it sat lightly and familiarly upon them;" the first
moments of its adoption being marked with little or none of that anarchy
and licentiousness which mostly deform political emancipations. Their
institutions had moulded them; a conclusion not more apparent from our
colonial and revolutionary history, than apposite for estimating at
least the immediate results of revolutions effected under moral
circumstances less propitious. The political structure has often, as in
our own case, been pulled down by an excusable impatience of the people;
but seldom has it been repaired with such solidity, and just adaption to
their wants.

We have said that the obscurity of history may have magnified the
pretensions of some of its heroes; it is certain that it quite quenches
the light of others. The state whose early transactions our author
records, furnished its full share of the intelligent minds that
contributed their impulse to the general movement of their time; and as
the execution of his task has led him to a closer contemplation of their
influence on its issue, he laments the comparative obscuration of
merited fame, even in this brief lapse of time, in individuals who were
the theme and boast of contemporaries. This is the law of our fate. As
the series of events is prolonged, the greater part of the actors in
them sink out of their place in the perspective, though their lesser
elevation might be scarcely observable to their own age. In the twilight
which falls on all past transactions, the rays of national recollections
fade from summit to summit, and linger at length only on a few of the
more "proudly eminent." Our author sketches some of these forgotten
worthies in the melancholy spirit of a traveller who finds a stately
column in the desert. With the reverence of "Old Mortality," he
re-touches the inscription to the illustrious dead, that they may not
wholly perish.

The first volume of the present work, the only one yet published, brings
down the history of Maryland to the establishment of the state
government. Besides a historical view of the transactions preceding this
era, it contains, in an introduction, a view of the territorial limits
of the colony as defined in the first grant to the proprietary, and of
the disputes with neighbouring grantees by which they were successively
retrenched. Two other chapters of the introduction are occupied with a
sketch of the civil divisions of the state, and an essay on the sources
of its laws. Appended to the historical sketch is a view of the
distribution of the legislative power, of the organization of the two
houses of assembly, their respective and collective powers, and the
privileges of their members. This plan involves a critical inquiry into
the political laws of the state, and a laborious examination of its
records. The diligence with which the writer seems to have executed his
task, is a voucher of his accuracy; and the body of information thus
collected with painful research, will probably establish his work as one
of authentic reference. This original collation of the materials from
which history is _distilled_, includes a labour, and deserves a praise,
which readers can hardly estimate competently. The writer's style is
vigorous, but wants compression; he is occasionally inaccurate, but is
often lively and striking; his scriptural phraseology is superabundant.
As he understands the period and the men he describes, his views and
reflections are just. The narrative would have been enlivened by a
little more individuality in the portraits of the actors; but though
some of the materials for this were probably at his command, at least as
to the more recent ones, we are aware of the reasons which impose on
this head, a partial silence on the historian of an age not remote. It
is respecting its personages that Christina's saying of history is more
emphatically true;--"_Chi lo sa, non scrive; chi lo scrive, no
sa._"--"The one who knows it, does not write; the one who writes it,
knows it not." It was this Mr. Jefferson meant, when he said the history
of the revolution had never been written, and never would be written. On
the whole, Mr. M'Mahon's is a valuable contribution to an interesting
theme, and we must increase the obligations we are under to him, by
borrowing the copious materials he supplies, for a hasty sketch, or
rather some selections of the colonial history of Maryland, in which we
shall take the liberty to make, without scruple, free use both of his
language and thoughts.

The present state of Maryland is embraced within considerably narrower
limits than those described in the original grant. By the charter which
bears date the 20th of June, 1632, the province assigned to Cecilius,
Lord Baltimore, had the following boundaries. On the south, a line drawn
from the promontory on the Chesapeake, called Watkins's Point, to the
ocean; on the east, the ocean, and the western margin of Delaware Bay
and river, as far as the fortieth degree of latitude; on the north, a
line drawn in that degree of latitude west, to the meridian of the true
fountain of the Potomac; and thence, the western bank of that river to
Smith's Point, and so by the shortest line to Watkins's Point. These
limits, it is apparent, embrace the whole of the present state of
Delaware; they comprehend also that part of Pennsylvania in which
Chester lies, as far north as the Schuylkill, and a very considerable
portion of Virginia. It may not be uninteresting to trace the
controversies which resulted in this abridgment of territory, especially
as it appears from Mr. M'Mahon's deduction of that with Virginia, that
Maryland has a subsisting claim to a large and fertile portion of the
latter state, lying between the south and north branches of the Potomac.

The proprietary's first contest, was with a personage who makes some
figure in the early history of his colony, and who, though painted with
little flattery by its chroniclers, seems to have possessed some
talents, enterprise, and courage. This was the notorious William
Clayborne, who, before the grant to Baltimore was carved out of the
limits of Virginia, had made some settlements on Kent Island, in the
Chesapeake, under the authority of that province. Clayborne defended his
claims with pertinacity for several years, and was not brought to
submission to the new grantee, till he had harassed the infant colony
with commotions, and even prepared to make depredations. He subsequently
gratified his resentment by exciting a rebellion, and driving the
proprietary's governor to Virginia. That province also for some time
persisted to assert its dominion over Maryland, in defiance of the royal
grant; and, when that question was at length decided in the
proprietary's favour, it was next necessary to fix the actual boundary
between the two provinces, a matter not adjusted till June, 1668, when
the existing southern line of Maryland was finally determined.

The proprietary's next territorial controversy had a greater duration,
and a less fortunate issue, being prolonged nearly a century, and
resulting in the dismemberment of a portion of his fairest and most
fertile territory. It must be mentioned, that the charter of Maryland
extended its northern boundary to the southern limit of what was then
called New England. In the intermediate territory between the actual
settlements of the two, the Dutch and the Swedes had planted some
colonies and trading-houses on the banks of the Delaware Bay and river,
in what is now the state of Delaware. The Swedish establishments were
reduced by the Dutch in 1655, and appended, together with their own, in
the same quarter, to the government of New Netherlands; on the English
conquest of which, and the grant of them by Charles II. to his brother,
the Duke of York, the settlements on the Delaware became dependencies on
the government of New-York, and, though clearly within the limits of
Maryland, being south of the latitude of 40°, remained so until the
grant to Penn, and the foundation of Pennsylvania in 1681. The southern
boundary of Penn's grant, was somewhat loosely established to be "a
circle of twelve miles drawn round New Castle, to the beginning of the
fortieth degree of latitude." Penn was eager to adjust his boundary with
Maryland; but when it was found, on an interview between his agent and
Baltimore, at Chester, then called Upland, that Chester itself was south
of the required latitude, and that the boundaries of Maryland would
extend to the Schuylkill, he very earnestly applied himself, to obtain
from the Duke of York, a grant of the Delaware settlements mentioned
above. In contravention of the claims of Baltimore, a conveyance was
made to him in 1682, of the town of New Castle, with the district twelve
miles round it, and also of the territory extending thence southward to
Cape Henlopen.

Thus fortified, Penn was again eager to adjust the disputed boundary.
The negotiations for this purpose, proving fruitless, were referred to
the Commissioners of Trade and Plantations, to whom Penn submits a case
of hardship, more _naïf_ than convincing. "I told him, (Baltimore,) that
it was not the love of the land, but of the water;--that he abounded in
what I wanted,--and that there was no proportion in the concern, because
the thing insisted on was ninety-nine times more valuable to me, than to
him." It must be recollected, that this reasonable claim involved
nothing less than Baltimore's entire exclusion from Delaware Bay, and
greatly abridged his territory on the coast of the ocean. Another
objection was urged by Penn, which finally governed the award of the
commissioners, who, in 1685, decided that Baltimore's grant "included
only lands uncultivated, and inhabited by savages;" whereas the
territory along the Delaware had been settled by Christians antecedently
to his grant,--a decision, by the way, inconsistent with the previous
ejectment of Clayborne, and with the determination in Baltimore's
favour, of the jurisdiction claimed over his grant by Virginia. They
directed also, for the avoidance of future contests, that the peninsula
between the two bays, should be divided into two equal parts, by a line
drawn from the latitude of Cape Henlopen, to the fortieth degree of
latitude,--the western portion to belong to Baltimore, and the eastern
to His Majesty, and, by consequence, to Penn. This is the origin of the
eastern boundary of Maryland, which was thus cut off from the ocean, on
the greater portion of her eastern side.

Her northern boundary still remained to be adjusted; but the
embarrassments of both proprietaries with the crown, caused the
controversy in this quarter to sleep nearly half a century. The mutual
border outrages which meanwhile disturbed the debatable ground, led to
the compact of the 10th of May, 1732, between Baltimore and the younger
Penns, which provided, in the first place, for the extension of a line
northerly, through the middle of the peninsula, so as to form a tangent
to a circle drawn round Newcastle, with a radius of twelve miles. The
northern boundary of Maryland was also to begin, not at the fortieth
degree of latitude, but at a point fifteen miles south thereof; and in
case the tangent before described should not extend to that point, it
was to be prolonged by a line drawn due north from the point where the
tangent met the circle; thus was ascertained the eastern extremity of
the northern boundary line, which was thence to be extended due west.
New obstacles intervened, however, to the execution of this agreement,
which was subsequently carried into chancery, but on which no decision
was had until 1750; and in the interval, some frightful excesses were
committed by the borderers on both sides. The house of one Cresap, in
Maryland, was fired by a body of armed men from Pennsylvania, who
attempted to murder him, his family, and several of his neighbours, as
they escaped from the flames. In retaliation, a little army of three
hundred Marylanders invaded the county of Lancaster, and took summary
measures to coerce submission to the government of Maryland. These
mutual outrages occasioned, in 1739, an order from the king in council
for the establishment of a provisional line; and in 1750, Chancellor
Hardwicke pronounced a decree, which ordered the specific execution of
the agreement of 1732. But Frederic, Lord Baltimore, the heir of
Charles, with whom the agreement had been made, contending that he was
protected from its operation by certain anterior conveyances in strict
settlement, objected to the execution of the decree, until finally, and
pending the chancery proceedings, a new agreement was entered into on
the 4th of July, 1760, between himself and the Penns, which adopted that
of 1732, and also the decree of 1750. Commissioners were appointed to
run the lines accordingly, who in November, 1768, reported their
proceedings to the proprietaries, and definitively adjusted the eastern
and northern boundaries of Maryland, in the terms of the agreement
before described. The northern line, from the names of the surveyors, is
commonly known as "Mason and Dixon's line," so often referred to as the
demarcation of the slave states from the others.

This controversy was not terminated in the north, when the proprietary
found new pretensions to combat in the west. These grew out of the words
of his charter, which described "the true fountain of the Potomac" as
the common _terminus_ of his western and southern boundaries. A
subsequent grant from the crown had conveyed to certain persons all the
tract between the heads and courses of the Rappahannock and Potomac, and
the Chesapeake Bay. This grant, which comprehended what was commonly
known as "The Northern Neck" of Virginia, and which carried only the
ownership of the soil, the jurisdiction remaining in Virginia, was
finally vested solely in Lord Culpepper, and from him descended to his
daughter, who marrying Lord Fairfax, the property in it passed to the
Fairfax family. As it called only for lands on the south side of the
Potomac, there was nothing on the face of it inconsistent with the call
of the charter of Maryland; but the under-grants from Fairfax were soon
pushed so far west as to raise the question of the true fountain of the
Potomac. Commissioners appointed by Virginia to ascertain, as between
that state and Fairfax, the limits of their respective ownership,
determined the North Branch to be the fountain of that river; whereas,
from information given to the council of Maryland, in 1753, by Colonel
Cresap, one of the settlers in the eastern extremity of the state, it
appeared, from its having the longest course, and from other
circumstances, that the South Branch was to be considered the principal
stream, and its source the true source of the Potomac. The British
council for plantation affairs had, as early as 1745, on the petition of
Fairfax, made a report, adopting the North Branch as such; but the
proprietary of Maryland, who viewed his rights as disregarded in this
decision, continued to assert his claim up to the first fountain of the
Potomac, "be that where it might." Various circumstances prevented his
bringing the matter before the king in council; and so the question
hung, till the Revolution substituted the _state_ of Virginia for the
British crown, as one party in the controversy, and that of Maryland as
the other.

In the constitution of the former, adopted in 1776, there is an express
recognition of the right of Maryland "to all the territory contained
within its charter;" but the actual boundary was not brought into
negotiation till 1795. New delays then interposed, and though Virginia
named commissioners in the matter in 1801, she restricted their powers
to the adjustment merely of the western line, unwilling to allow even a
discussion of her claim to the territory between the two branches. The
negociation consequently dropped for the time, and Maryland, wearied, it
would seem, with various efforts to reclaim the territory south of the
North Branch, agreed, at length, by an act passed in 1818, to adopt as
the terminus, the most western source of that stream. But a new
obstacle, interposed by Virginia, defeated the adjustment under this
concession. Her commissioners were instructed to commence the boundary
"at a stone, planted by Lord Fairfax on the head waters of the Potomac,"
being thus restricted to the old adjustment between Fairfax and the
crown; those of Maryland were directed to begin at the true or most
western source of the North Branch, be that where it might. Fairfax's
stone, our author says, is not planted in fact at the extreme western
source. The proffer of Maryland, by the act of 1818, to confine herself
to the North Branch, being thus rejected by Virginia, she is remitted
apparently to her original rights, which comprehend the sovereignty of
all the territory between these two streams of the Potomac, and call for
the South Branch as her south-western boundary in that quarter. In a
letter of Mr. Cooke, then a distinguished lawyer of Maryland, and one of
the commissioners named in 1795, to adjust the point, the territory in
contest is stated to contain 462,480 acres; and he remarks, that prior
occupancy gives, in such a case, no title to one party, and no length of
time can bar the claim of the other.

We have thus abridged the author's copious and distinct account of the
territorial wars, which resulted in the defeat of the proprietaries of
Maryland on two parts of their frontier, and have left a legacy of
debate on a third. We must now return to the era of the first grantee
and proprietary, and take up the line of the general events of the
colonial history.

Cecilius Calvert had no sooner obtained his grant, for which he is said
to have been indebted to the influence of his father, George Calvert,
who but for his death would have been himself the grantee, than he
prepared for the establishment of a colony. The expedition, which he
entrusted to his brother, Leonard Calvert, sailed from the Isle of Wight
on the 22d of November, 1633, the emigrants consisting of about two
hundred persons, principally Catholics, and many of them gentlemen of
family and fortune. They reached Point Comfort, in Virginia, on the 24th
of February following, and thence proceeded up the Potomac, in search of
an eligible site. Having taken formal possession of the province, at an
island which they called St. Clements, they sailed upwards of forty
leagues up the river, to an Indian town called Piscataway; but deeming
it prudent to establish themselves nearer its mouth, they returned to
what is now known as St. Mary's river, (an estuary of the Potomac,) on
the eastern side of which, six or seven miles from its mouth, they
disembarked, on the 27th of March, 1634. Here, near another Indian town,
bearing the uncouth name of Yaocomoco, they laid the foundation of the
old city of St. Mary's, and of the state of Maryland. The proprietary
had made ample provision for his infant colony, of food and clothing,
the implements of husbandry, and the means of erecting habitations;
expending in the first two or three years upwards of £40,000, and
governing, by all concurring accounts, with much policy and liberality.

The new colony seems to have been looked on a little coldly by Virginia,
her next neighbour in the great continental wilderness, and to have had
indeed more positive ground of complaint in the connivance given there
to Clayborne, who has already been mentioned as the colonizer of Kent
Island, and whose fancied or real injuries from the proprietary, made
him the persevering foe of the colony during twenty-five years. His
first essay was to kindle the jealousies of the natives against the
colonists, which, in the beginning of 1642, broke out into an open war,
that endured for some time, and was the cause of much expense and
distress to the province. The distractions of the great rebellion of
1642, which began at this time to involve the colonies, furnished him
the next pretences of disturbance, and with fit associates. Richard
Ingle, the most prominent of these, was a known adherent of the
parliamentary cause; he had before this time been proclaimed a traitor
to the king, and had fled the province. The insurrection promoted,
therefore, by these confederates and others, (commonly known as
"Clayborne and Ingle's rebellion,") was probably carried on in the name
of the Parliament; though the loss of the greater part of the provincial
records, anterior and relating to this period, the circumstance from
which it acquired its chief notoriety, leaves us little other knowledge
of the insurrection itself, than that it was attended with great misrule
and rapacity, that it commenced in 1644, and that the proprietary
government was suspended till August, 1646; Leonard Calvert, the
governor, being compelled meanwhile to seek refuge in Virginia. Quiet
was then restored by a general amnesty, from which only Clayborne,
Ingle, and one Durnford, were excepted. During two or three years the
province maintained this tranquillity, by pursuing a neutral course
towards the contending parties in England, varied by the single
unadvised act of proclaiming, on the 15th of November, 1649, the
accession of Charles II., Governor Stone being absent at the moment.
This procedure was followed by very ill consequences to the proprietary.
The Parliament, now triumphant, issued a commission for the subjugation
of the disaffected colonies, of which, ominously, for Maryland,
_Captain_ Clayborne was named one, and which, after reducing Virginia,
demanded of Stone, the Governor of Maryland, an express recognition of
the parliamentary authority. Delaying compliance with this demand, he
was threatened with the deprivation of his government; but it was
arranged at length that he should continue to exercise it, till the
pleasure of the commonwealth government could be known. This trust he
seems to have discharged with due fidelity to the Parliament. He
required, indeed, the inhabitants of the province to take the oath of
allegiance to the proprietary government; an act which does not seem
inconsistent with his engagements. It was alleged, however, to be an
evidence of disaffection; and as intentions, says our author, are always
easy to charge, and difficult to disprove, he was in the end compelled
to resign his office to a commission named by Clayborne and his
associates. Stone now attempted resistance; but an engagement taking
place near the Patuxent, his small force of two hundred men was entirely
defeated, and himself taken prisoner. He was condemned to die; but he
had, like another Marius, inspired, it seems, such respect and affection
in the soldiery, that the party intrusted with his execution refused to
proceed in it. A general intercession of the people procured a
commutation of his sentence to imprisonment, which was continued, with
circumstances of severity, during the greater part of the protectorate.
With him the proprietary government fell for the time.

The occasion was seized by Virginia, to urge with the Protector, her old
claim of jurisdiction over Maryland. The proprietary's charter was
assailed, and the story of Clayborne's wrongs, pathetically told at
length. The fanaticism of the Protector was approached, by objecting the
religious toleration, which, much to the honour of the proprietary, had
consistently characterized his government. The union of the two
provinces was urged, among other reasons, on the score of its preventing
"the cutting of throats," and restraining the excessive planting of
tobacco, thereby making way _for the more staple commodities_, such as
_silk_. Cromwell, however, who could lay aside his fanaticism on
occasion, but who, on the other hand, probably sought to keep the
proprietary in his interests, by holding his rights in suspense, made no
decision in the case; and the latter, who at first expected a speedy
result in his favour, seems to have resolved at length to regain his
province by force. His government had fallen without a crime, and,
besides, the pretensions of Virginia had roused the pride and
indignation of all parties. He had thus many adherents, among the most
conspicuous of whom was Josias Fendall, who having, with a consistency
that merits remark, signalized by treachery every measure he was
concerned in, played for some years a part in the transactions of the
colony, worthy of versatile politicians on a more extensive theatre. He
is brought to our notice in 1655, when he was in custody before the
provincial court, on a charge of disturbing the government, under a
pretended power from the late governor, Stone, and was imprisoned. Being
discharged, probably on taking an oath not to disquiet the government,
he nevertheless appeared soon after as an open insurgent, acting under
the proprietary's commission as his governor. We are uninformed of the
particulars of his operations against the commissioners. During a part
of 1657 and 1658, there seems to have been a divided empire in the
province, the commissioners administering theirs at St. Leonard's, and
Fendall and his council sitting at St. Mary's. An arrangement between
the proprietary and the Virginian commissioners, then in England, at
length put an end to these divisions. The latter ceased to push the
claims of Virginia, and it was agreed that his province should be
restored to the proprietary. On the 20th of March, 1658, it was formally
surrendered to Fendall as his governor, under a stipulation for the
security of the acts passed during the defection;--a stipulation which
the latter fulfilled, not only by declaring them void, but by causing
them to be torn from the records.

Clothed thus with authority, Fendall was enabled to play off a kind of
parody of Cromwell's proceedings, by "kicking away the ladder by which
he had mounted." At the next convention of the assembly, the lower house
transmitted a message to the upper, declaring itself the true assembly,
and the supreme court of judicature, and demanding its opinion on this
claim. The latter, not acceding with the required good grace and
promptness to this new doctrine, which involved a complete independence,
not only of itself, but of the proprietary, was visited in a body by the
lower house, and ordered to sit no longer apart, with the privilege,
nevertheless, of seats in the lower house. To the assembly thus
reformed, Fendall surrendered his commission from the proprietary,
accepting a new one from itself; and the inhabitants of the province
were required to recognize no other authority but that of this new
legislature, or of the king. The Restoration cut short the rule of this
commonwealth party in the province. Baltimore obtained the countenance
and aid of the new government,--and thus fortified, enjoined his
brother, Philip Calvert, as his governor, to proceed against the
insurgents even by martial law, and especially not to permit Fendall to
escape with his life. Fendall, accordingly, with one Hatch, was excepted
from the general indemnity, and proclamations were issued for their
apprehension;--yet, on a subsequent voluntary surrender, he found means
to be quits for a short imprisonment, with a disability to vote or hold
office;--a lenity not more impolitic in the government, than unmerited
by him, as he not long afterwards attempted to excite another rebellion.

An uninterrupted tranquillity of many years followed the commotions just
narrated. In 1675, died Cecilius, Lord Baltimore, the first proprietary,
leaving his estate in the province to his son and heir, Charles Calvert.
On a visit to England, the new proprietary found himself and his
government the subject of complaint to the Crown, from the resident
clergy of the Church of England, in the province. They represented that
the province was no better than a Sodom,--religion despised,--the Lord's
day profaned, and all notorious vices committed;--in short, it was in a
deplorable condition for want of an established ministry, the Quakers
providing for their speakers, and the Catholics for their priests, but
no care taken to build up churches in the Protestant religion. Baltimore
represented very honestly, that all religions were tolerated by his
laws, and none established,--and was dismissed for the time, with the
general injunction to restrain immorality, and provide for a competent
number of clergy of the Church of England. But the jealousy of popery,
now abroad in England, began to flame up in the colonies, and especially
in Maryland, which, peopled chiefly by Protestants, was yet under the
dominion of a Catholic. Complaints were poured into Charles's ear, of
Catholic partialities in the proprietary administration; and, in reply
to a communication from Baltimore, by which it was shown beyond doubt,
that his offices were distributed without distinction of religion, and
the military power almost exclusively in Protestant hands--"that
exemplary monarch," says our author, "gave his commentary on religious
liberty, by ordering all offices to be put into the hands of the
Protestants." With a singular ill fortune, which must be put to the
account of his tolerance, the proprietary, thus controlled by a
Protestant king, and menaced, besides, with that then formidable weapon
of royalty, a _quo warranto_, did not the less encounter an enemy in his
Catholic successor, by whom, in 1687, a _quo warranto_ was actually
issued. Before judgment was pronounced, indeed, the monarch himself was
an exile, by the judgment of his people; but the proprietary was now
attacked, on the opposite quarter, by the "Protestant Association of
Maryland," which succeeded in overthrowing his government. This
revolution marks one era in our author's historical narrative, before we
proceed in which, we must pause a moment with him, to mention the
condition of the colony, at the time this event occurred.

The two hundred original settlers were increased as early as 1660 to
twelve thousand, and in 1671 to nearly twenty thousand; their exact
number at the protestant revolution is unknown. The settlements had
extended from St. Mary's a considerable distance up the Potomac, and all
along the Chesapeake Bay on both sides, and were seated chiefly on its
shores, and around the estuaries of its rivers. Excepting St. Mary's,
there appears to have been no place entitled to the appellation of a
town, unless, says the author, we adopt the same number of houses to
make a town, which it requires persons to constitute a riot. The _city_
of St. Mary's, which numbered fifty or sixty houses in two or three
years from its planting, never much exceeded these humble limits. The
colonists were almost universally planters of tobacco, and each
plantation, according to an early writer, "was a little town of itself,
every considerable planter's warehouse being a kind of shop," where
inferior planters and others might obtain the necessary commodities.
Tobacco supplied the purposes of gold and silver; but as this currency
was in some respects inconvenient, the lords proprietaries struck coin,
and imitated more powerful sovereigns by attempting,--and, as may be
supposed, with the like success,--to circulate it at a rate beyond its
intrinsic value. The act of 1686, making coins a legal tender at a
certain advance beyond their real worth, deserves mention as
establishing the provincial currency in lieu of sterling. There was also
at this time a printing-press and a public printer; a circumstance
peculiar to this colony at that early period. _Toleration was coeval
with the province._ The oath of office prescribed by the proprietary to
his governors, recognising the freedom of religious opinion in the
amplest manner, "is in itself a text-book of official duty," and ought
to be remembered to the honour of Cecilius Calvert, "when the lustre of
a thousand diadems is pale." For the only two departures from this
principle, the proprietary government is not responsible. An ordinance
of Cromwell's Commissioners prohibited the profession of the Catholic
religion; and the unscrupulous Fendall, at another time, banished the
Quakers for refusing to subscribe an engagement of fidelity to the
government. We are to seek, therefore, other causes than the intolerance
of the proprietary for the Protestant revolution which we are now to
notice.

A chasm in the colonial records, from November, 1688, to the beginning
of 1692, leaves us without accurate information of its reasons and
progress. Apparently, the alarm of Popery then general through the
empire, was the true cause, and some indiscretions of the proprietary's
governors the pretence. The government was at this time in a commission
of nine deputies, who by summoning the lower house of assembly to take
an oath of fidelity to the proprietary, were deemed to have committed a
breach of its privilege. The president of the deputies was a Mr. Joseph,
whose address on the opening of the assembly, being a very quaint but
clumsy exposition of _jus divinum_, and of its derivation to himself,
cannot claim the praise of a happy adaption to the humour of the moment.
The house refusing to take the oath, the assembly was prorogued. News
now came of the expected invasion of England by the Prince of Orange;
and, without any fixed views probably, even as to their own course in
the existing distractions, much less against the Protestants of the
province, the deputies awaked jealousy, and gave rumour wings by
ordering the public arms to be collected, and attempting to check
reports which might beget "disaffection to the proprietary government."
The whole colony resounded with the cry of a Popish plot; and as a
treaty long subsisting with some Indian tribes happened to be renewed
about this time, the plot thus engendered by the deputies was to be
accomplished, it was asserted, by the aid of the savages and the French.
An accidental delay of the proprietary's instructions for proclaiming
William and Mary, heightened the alarm, or increased the exasperation;
and at length, in April 1689, an association was formed, styling itself,
"An Association in arms for the defence of the Protestant Religion, and
for asserting the right of King William and Queen Mary to the province
of Maryland." The deputies took refuge from the storm in a garrisoned
fort at Mattapany, by whose surrender, in August 1689, the Associators
gained undisputed possession of the province. The articles of surrender
have preserved the names of the leaders, at the head of which is that of
John Coode, another personage of colonial celebrity.

The first measure of the Associators was to summon a convention at St.
Mary's, which transmitted to the king an exposition of the motives of
the recent revolution. Their charges against the provincial government
are so much at war with the tenor of its history, under both Cecilius
and George Calvert, that we can in reason only impute them to popular
exaggeration. It was alleged that all the offices of the province were
under the control of the Jesuits, and the churches all appropriated to
the uses of popish idolatry; nay, that under connivance, if not
permission of the government, all sorts of murders and outrages were
committed by Papists upon Protestants. Another topic, not less
prevailing, was the reluctant and imperfect allegiance of the
proprietary rulers to the crown, which they accordingly solicited to
take the province under its immediate guard and administration, William
gratified his own wishes as well as theirs, by arbitrarily depriving the
proprietary of his province, without even the usual forms of law, and by
sending out, in 1692, Sir Lionel Copley as the royal governor. We blush,
says our author, to name Lord Holt as having given the opinion, behind
whose high authority the crown intrenched itself in this summary
procedure. The new governor's message to the assembly, recommending "the
making of wholesome laws, and the laying aside of all heats and
animosities," was responded to by an act, the second passed after its
meeting, "for the service of Almighty God, and the establishment of the
Protestant religion in the province." By this act, the Church of England
was made the established church, and a poll-tax imposed of forty pounds
of tobacco on every taxable, to build churches and support ministers.
But the new church was not only to be encouraged; penalties were to be
added for the suppression of others. Under the act of 1704, "to prevent
the growth of popery," Catholic priests were inhibited by severe
penalties from saying mass, or exercising, except in private families,
other spiritual functions, or in any manner persuading the people to be
reconciled to the Church of Rome. Protestant children of Papists, might
also compel their parents to furnish them adequate maintenance. The
Quakers, too, shared these persecutions for a time; but the toleration
of Protestant dissenters was established some years after; and thus, "in
a colony founded by Catholics, and which had grown into power and
happiness under the government of Catholics, the Catholic inhabitant was
the only victim of religious intolerance." The next attempt was against
the revenues and land rights of the proprietary; but these were
sustained by the crown.

Another victim of the Protestant revolution seems to have been the
ancient city of St. Mary's, which, being in a district inhabited chiefly
by Catholics, had always been distinguished by its attachment to the
proprietaries. This circumstance was not calculated to lessen the
complaints long made of its inconvenient remoteness from the greater
part of the present settlements. A natural feeling had nevertheless
retained the government at its old seat, (antiquity is comparative,) and
in 1674 a state-house was built, at an expense (40,000 pounds of
tobacco) which, in our author's opinion, shows it to have been a work of
some taste and magnitude. This edifice was habitable till the present
year, when its remains, which it would have been better taste to spare
at least, if not preserve, were removed to make room for a church,
erected on or near its site. Notwithstanding this embellishment of his
capital, the proprietary, in 1683, yielded to the wishes of the
colonists, and removed the legislature, the courts, and the public
offices, to "the Ridge," in Anne Arundel county, and thence to Battle
Creek, on the Patuxent; but the want of the necessary accommodations
drove them from the first after one session, and from the latter after
the shorter experiment of three days. The government was brought back to
St. Mary's, and remained there till the Protestant revolution, when its
removal was again resolved on. The petition of the ancient city against
the measure, and the reply to it, exhibit the usual topics of the two
parties which divide the world; on the one side, prescription and
ancient privilege; utility, and the progress of events on the other. In
vain the citizens expatiated also on their capacious harbour, in which
five hundred sail might ride securely at anchor; and offered to keep up,
at their own cost, a coach, or caravan, or both, to run daily during the
session of the legislature and provincial courts, and weekly at other
times; and at least six horses, with suitable furniture, for all persons
having occasion to ride post. Neither their representations nor their
offers begat any thing more than sarcasms on their leanness and poverty,
and the intended removal took place in 1694-5.

The spot selected for the new seat of government, was a point of land at
the mouth of the Severn; a town, according to the definition before
given, but not yet possessing the qualification required by a colonial
statute, entitled by the author "an act to keep the towns off the
parish," which denied it the right of sending a delegate to the
assembly, till inhabited by as many families as might defray his
expenses, without being chargeable to the county. This place, known as
"Proctor's," or "the town-land at Severn," was named, at the removal,
Anne Arundel town; the following year it acquired the title of the Port
of Annapolis; it was erected in 1708 into a city, with the privilege,
which it still retains, of sending two delegates to the assembly. Four
or five years after it had become the seat of colonial legislation, it
is described as containing about forty dwellings, seven or eight of
which could afford good lodging and accommodation for strangers. One is
curious to know what might have been the accommodations at "the Ridge,"
and at Battle Creek. Our informant continues, "there is also a
statehouse and free-school, built of brick, which make a great show
among a parcel of wooden houses; and the foundation of a church is laid,
the only brick church in Maryland." He adds, "had Governor Nicholson
continued there a few _months_ longer, he had brought it to
_perfection_." This perfection it seems not to have acquired even as
late as 1711, being then described by one "E. Cooke, gentleman," in his
poem called "The Sotweed Factor," yet, by rare accident, extant, as--

    "A city situate on a plain,
    Where scarce a house will keep out rain;
    The buildings, fram'd with cypress rare,
    Resemble much our Southwark Fair;--
    And if the truth I may report,
    It's not so large as Tottenham-court."

This tobacco merchant, as we translate his title, a gentleman apparently
of a caustic vein, the prototype of English travellers in America,
reflects also on the hospitality of the new capital; an allegation
doubtful, considering its source, but at any rate amply refuted at a
subsequent day, as this little city, though it never acquired a large
population or commerce, was, long before the American revolution,
proverbial for the profuse hospitality of its inhabitants, their elegant
luxury, and liberal accomplishments. A French writer thus describes it
during the revolution, when it may be presumed to have shared the
distresses and gloom of the period: "In that very inconsiderable town,
of the few buildings it contains, at least three-fourths may be styled
elegant and grand. Female luxury here exceeds what is known in the
provinces of France. A French hair-dresser is a man of importance among
them; and it is said a certain dame here hires one of that craft at one
thousand crowns a year. The state-house is a very beautiful building; I
think the most so of any I have seen in America."[10] To these habits of
profusion, our author is inclined to add others less excusable, and
hints at "dangerous allurements," administering neither to happiness nor
purity. This early seat of colonial elegance and luxury is still the
political metropolis of Maryland. From the lofty dome of its state-house
the visiter may still look down on mansions that betoken ancient
opulence, and on a landscape of quiet beauty, varied with gardens and
ancient trees, and picturesquely watered by winding estuaries of the
Chesapeake, whose breeze attempers a climate rich in early flowers and
fruits. It was at this time the residence, of course, of the royal
governors, of whose administration we find little to record in this
hasty narrative. One of them, indeed, Francis Nicholson, though a pliant
minister of the crown, seems to have acquired some popularity in the
province, his versatility of temper combined with some energy and
talent, and a courteous demeanour, enabling him to fall easily into the
prevailing humour. Having arrived when the enthusiasm of the Protestant
revolution was yet fresh, he became a great patron of the clergy, and
promoter of orthodoxy, and in that capacity we find him engaged in
proceedings against Coode, though the latter had figured in the events
by which the Protestant ascendency had been established, when his
services were deemed of such merit as to entitle him to the reward of
one hundred thousand pounds of tobacco, and an office. Coode seems not
to have elevated his private virtues to the level of his public. He
subsequently appears exercising the incompatible functions of a
clergyman, a collector of customs, and a lieutenant-colonel of militia,
at the same time alleging that religion was a trick, and that all the
morals worth having were contained in Cicero's offices. If the orthodoxy
of Governor Nicholson was offended by these opinions, his vanity was not
less so by intimations from Coode, that as he had pulled down one
government, he might assist in overthrowing another. The agitator, on
the ground of his being in holy orders, was prevented by the governor
from serving as a delegate in the assembly, and was then dismissed from
his employments, and indicted for atheism and blasphemy. He fled to
Virginia, but afterwards, on the removal of Nicholson from the
government, came in and surrendered himself. In consideration of former
services, his sentence was suspended; age and adversity probably tamed
his unquietness, as thenceforward we hear no more of him in the colonial
history. Nicholson's next proceedings were against some persons whose
principal offence seems to have been the ascription to him of certain
acts of early licentiousness not very consistent with his orthodox zeal,
and which, as they have come down to posterity, might, the author says,
be entitled the _Memorabilia_ of Governor Nicholson. Whatever these
_Memorabilia_ were, they seem not to have impaired the popularity of his
administration, which was also remarkable for the establishment, in
1695, of a public _post_, before unknown in the colonies. The route of
this post extended from some point on the Potomac through Annapolis to
Philadelphia. The postman was bound to travel the route _eight times a
year_, for which he received a salary of 50_l._ The scheme dropped on
the death of the first postman in 1698, and appears not to have been
revived afterwards. A general post-office for the colonies was
established by the English government in 1710.

Though our author pronounces the administration of the royal governors
to have been favourable in general to the liberties and prosperity of
the colony, its population and resources appear to have increased
extremely little during that era. In 1689 it contained about twenty-five
thousand inhabitants, and in 1710 only thirty thousand. Immigration had
in a great measure ceased; a circumstance imputable to nothing so
probably as the change in its religious policy. Complaints are made of
the distressed condition of its husbandry, and the years 1694 and 1695
were years of unusual scarcity, and of surprising mortality among the
cattle and swine. The artisans, including the carpenters and coopers,
constituted, according to a statement in 1697, only one-sixtieth of the
whole population. The colonists depended entirely on England for the
most necessary articles; in a few families, coarse clothing was
manufactured out of the wool of the province; and some attempts were
made in the counties of Somerset, and Dorchester, to manufacture linen
and woollen cloths on a more extensive scale. Even these imperfect
attempts seem to have offended the commercial jealousy of the mother
country; for the difficulty of getting English goods at the time, is
mentioned by way of excuse for them. There was an inconsiderable export
to the West Indies, and a small trade with New-England for rum,
molasses, fish, and wooden wares, for their traffic in which latter
article the New-Englanders were already conspicuous. The shipping of the
colony was very trifling, the trade with England being carried on
entirely in English, and that with the West Indies, chiefly in
New-England vessels.

The proprietary government had now been suspended twenty-five years. It
had fallen through jealousy of the Catholics, and Charles Calvert, who
submitted in his own person to the loss of power for the sake of the
religion in which he had grown up, had yielded to the anxieties of a
parent, and induced his son and heir, Benedict Leonard Calvert, to
embrace the doctrines of the established church. By his own death, in
February, 1714, and that of his heir in April, 1715, the title to the
province devolved to Charles Calvert, the infant son of the latter, who
was also educated in the Protestant faith. The reason for excluding the
proprietary family then subsisted no longer; their claims were in fact
soon after acknowledged by George I. and their government restored in
the person of the infant proprietary, in May, 1715. The only consequence
of this event meriting notice, was the imposition of a test-oath,
requiring of Catholics the abjuration of the Pretender, and the
renunciation of some of the essential points of their faith. Private
animosity gave edge to these civil persecutions; Catholics were excluded
from social intercourse, _nor permitted to walk in front of the
State-House_; swords were worn by them for personal defence. Charles
Calvert died in 1751, leaving the province to his infant son Frederic,
after acquiring for his administration the praise of moderation and
integrity. Yet it was fruitful in internal dissensions, which no policy
could have averted. The controversy respecting the extension of the
English statutes to the colony, originated in 1722, and was succeeded in
1739 by the disputes relating to the proprietary revenue; controversies
full of heat at the time, but which will be more conveniently considered
in connexion with some subsequent transactions of the same sort. One
dispute may be mentioned here, as indicating the spirit of all the rest.
The "Six Nations," a tribe of Indians, occupying a border position
between the French and English colonies, had claims to a considerable
portion of the territory of Maryland lying along the Susquehanna and the
Potomac, and in 1742 it was resolved to depute commissioners to Albany
for the purpose of extinguishing them by treaty. The lower house of
assembly claiming, however, to participate in the appointment of the
commissioners, and also to restrict the amount of expenditure, a dispute
arose on this point of prerogative, which was only adjusted, two years
after, by the governor's appointing the commission on his own
responsibility, and defraying its charges from the ordinary revenue. The
claims in question were extinguished by the Indian treaty of Lancaster,
in June, 1744.

Questions of this sort now became frequent between the lower house of
the colonial legislature and the proprietary governors. At this period
the French settlements in Canada had begun to be formidable, and their
fortifications had been extended along the northern lakes, with a view
of connecting them by a chain of posts on the Mississippi, with their
possessions in Louisiana. They had encountered much resistance in this
quarter from the Six Nations, just mentioned, whose hostility to France
made them usually the allies of the English, but whose consistent aid
was only to be bought. As early as 1692, New-York had asked pecuniary
succors of the other colonies, of Maryland among them, for securing the
faith of these savage allies, and repelling the common enemy. A general
injunction to the like effect was issued by the crown, and this was
followed by more particular instructions, defining the respective quotas
of the colonies. Thus began the system of "crown requisitions," which,
always received with an ill grace, were often entirely disregarded. In
the "French war," which began in 1754, a few years after the death of
the last mentioned proprietary, Maryland scarcely co-operated, and the
want of her aid was seriously felt in several of its campaigns; a course
construed by the mother country into a pertinacious and unreasonable
opposition to its wishes, and by the sister colonies into a selfish
disregard of the obligations of mutual defence. Mr. Pitt himself, the
subsequent champion of American liberties, was so highly incensed at the
conduct of Maryland, as to avow his resolution to bring the colonies to
a more submissive temper. Dr. Franklin appreciated more correctly, and
explained, the course of the Maryland assembly. We have his authority,
that it voted considerable aids, only rendered abortive by unhappy
disputes between the two houses as to the mode of raising the requisite
revenue. The popular branch claimed also the privilege of exercising its
judgment as to the details of defence, and of directing its efforts with
a view to the more immediate interests of Maryland, and to the dangers
which seemed most instant. In 1754, it voted £6000, however, for the
defence of Virginia; and on the disastrous defeat of Braddock, by which
the frontiers of Maryland herself were left defenceless, and the terror
of her borderers borne to the very heart of her settlements, her
legislature waived the pending disputes, and entered into the extensive
plan of operations concerted by a council of the colonial governors at
New-York. A supply was voted of £40,000, of which £11,000 were to be
applied to the erection of a fort and block-house on her own western
frontier.

At this period, the westernmost settlements of the province scarcely
extended beyond the mouth of the Conococheague, a tributary of the
Potomac, though a few of the more adventurous of the borderers had
plunged perhaps a little deeper into the wilderness. The settlement at
Fort Cumberland, was not then a settlement of Maryland; and, being
separated from the inhabited limits of the latter, by a deep and almost
trackless forest of eighty miles, the fort at that place could afford no
protection to the frontiers of the colony. Its very situation was, at
that not remote day, a subject of conjecture to the good people of
Maryland. There were many passes of approach for the Indian foe, beyond
its range; and a few stockade forts erected by the settlers were the
only retreats for their families in case of these sudden and frightful
inroads. A more eligible defensive position was sought, therefore, on
the Potomac, a few hundred yards from its bank, and ten or eleven miles
above the mouth of the Conococheague. On this spot was erected Fort
Frederick, the only monument of ante-revolutionary times remaining in
Western Maryland, every vestige of the fortification at Cumberland
having disappeared. It was constructed of durable materials, in the most
approved manner, and was seen by our author in the summer of 1828, the
greater part still standing, in good preservation, in the midst of
cultivated fields.

At the peace of Paris, which ended the French war, the population of the
province had rapidly increased to about 165,000. The number of convicts
alone, imported since the proprietary restoration, was estimated at
fifteen or twenty thousand. The annual shipment of tobacco to England,
according to the best information obtainable, amounted to 28,000
hogsheads, valued at £140,000, and the other exports, in 1761, to
£80,000 currency; the imports, in the same year, to £160,000. Iron was
the only manufacture that had made any progress. As early as 1749, there
were eight furnaces and nine forges, manufacturing, by an estimate in
1761, 2,500 tons of pig, and 600 of bar iron. Such were the resources of
Maryland, at the commencement of the civic struggle for her liberties,
beginning with the Stamp Act.

For the honour of originating and sustaining the resistance to this, and
the like measures of the British government at this time, our author
justly remarks, that there is little room for rivalry among the
colonies. They had all brought with them, as a familiar principle of
English liberty, their right of exemption from taxes, unsanctioned by
their assent, for mere purposes of revenue. There was nothing in the
political establishments of Maryland to efface this original impression.
Its charter exhibits the most favourable form of proprietary government;
and its benignant provisions for the security of rights, were the cause
that it retained, till the revolution, the anxious attachment of the
colonists. It designed entirely to exclude the taxation of the province
by the mother country; and, though the proprietary rights were leniently
exercised by a family which seems to have been especially characterized
by mildness and moderation, they also were limited and modified by the
spirit of the colonists, to a consistency with public welfare, and their
broad notions of the privileges of freemen. Several branches of the
proprietary revenue proving burdensome, or vexatious in the mode of
their collection, were commuted, or partially diverted to the public
defence and uses; and, even when the provincial assemblies failed of
effecting these objects, their pretensions served to familiarize the
people with the principle, that all impositions were illegal, not
sanctioned by their consent. Our limits do not permit us to go into the
history of these questions, which forms an interesting portion of the
present work.

The resistance of the colony to external aggressions was not less
resolute. We have noticed her neglect of the royal rescripts in the case
of the _quotas_; she opposed with like firmness, the plan originated in
1701, and revived in 1715, for destroying the charters, converting the
colonies into royal governments, and forming a confederacy of them, at
whose head was to be a royal commissioner, residing at New York. She was
as adverse to the plan of colonial union, aiming at much the same
object, proposed in 1753. We have already alluded to the controversy
respecting the extension of the English statutes to the province, which
began in 1722, and lasted ten years. In their session of that, year, the
lower House of Assembly adopted a series of resolves assertory of their
liberties, and declaring the grounds on which they claimed the benefit
of the statutes. These resolves, which became the Magna Charta of the
province, and were afterwards substantially re-adopted on every
occasion, involving its rights and liberties, declared that the province
was not to be regarded as a conquered country, but as a colony planted
by English subjects, who had not forfeited by their removal any part of
their English liberties; that, as such, they had always enjoyed the
common law, and those general statutes of England, which were not
restrained by words of local limitation, and such acts of the colonial
legislature, as were made to suit the particular constitution of the
province; and that this was declared, not from apprehension of the
infringement of their liberties by the proprietary, but as an assertion
of them, and to transmit their sense thereof, and the nature of their
constitution, to posterity. These resolves divided the whole province
into two parties, "the court party," consisting of the immediate
retainers and adherents of the proprietary, and "the country party,"
which embraced the lower house, and the great body of the people. On the
latter side, were enlisted all the talents of the province; and the
papers on this subject proceeding from the lower house, were marked by
great ability and research. Some of them are from the pen of the elder
Daniel Dulany, the father of another distinguished person of that name,
and who transmitted to his son the talents, which, our author remarks,
seem to have been the patrimony of the family in every generation. The
controversy resulted in the recognition of the pretensions of the
assembly, and thenceforth the courts of judicature continued to adopt
such statutes as were accommodated to the condition of the province.

The spirit which begat and established these claims, appeared equally in
the dissensions which succeeded them, respecting the proprietary
revenues. A series of resolves was adopted by the lower house in 1739,
denouncing, as arbitrary and illegal, the levying of certain duties, the
settling of officers' fees by proclamation or ordinance, and the
creation of new offices with new fees, without the assent of the
assembly. The act proposing the appointment of an agent to present these
grievances to the king was vindicated by a message from the lower house,
"worthy to be preserved for its laconic boldness." "The people of
Maryland," say they, "think the proprietary takes money from them
unlawfully. The proprietary says he has a right to take that money. This
matter must be determined by his majesty, who is indifferent to both.
The proprietary is at home, and has this very money to enable him to
negotiate this affair on his part. The people have no way of negotiating
it on theirs, but by employing fit persons in London to act for them.
These persons must be paid for their trouble, and this bill proposes to
raise a fund for that purpose." Though the measures then adopted did not
lead to a definitive suppression of the grievances complained of, some
of them were removed in another mode. Thus, fines on alienation were
relinquished by the proprietary in 1742; officers' fees were established
by law in 1747; but the tobacco and tonnage duties formed a standing
subject of complaint till the revolution, and a justification of the
refusal of supplies, and of other opposition to the government. In
voting supplies during the French war, the lower house had imposed an
increased tax on "ordinary licenses," and a duty on convicts transported
into the colony. The former was resisted as an invasion of proprietary
prerogative; the latter, as in conflict with the acts of Parliament
authorizing their importation, according to an opinion obtained from Mr.
Murray, afterwards Lord Mansfield. The assembly was not daunted by
authoritative names. "Precarious," said they, "and contemptible indeed
would the state of our laws be, if the bare opinion of any man, however
distinguished in his dignity and office, yet acting in the capacity of
private counsel, should be sufficient to shake their authority." "I
remember," says Daniel Dulany, in his Considerations on the Stamp-Act,
"many opinions of crown lawyers on American affairs. They have generally
been very sententious;--they have all declared that to be legal, which
the minister, for the time being, has deemed to be expedient." The
opinion of Attorney-General Pratt, afterwards Lord Camden, prevailed as
little on a subsequent occasion. In it he denied the legality of certain
extensions of the taxing power, in a supply bill voted by the lower
house. It is chiefly remarkable, however, for the distinction set up by
one who was afterwards an advocate of American liberties, between the
rights of the House of Commons and of the Colonial Assemblies. The
Assembly entertained a very different judgment. "Being desirous," they
said, "to pay the opinion all due deference, we cannot but wish it had
been accompanied with the state of the facts on which it was founded."
In nine successive sessions, the supply bill was passed in nearly its
original form. With such exhibitions of the tempers of the colonies, it
is a just subject of wonder that the Stamp-Act should ever have been
ventured on.

The peace of Paris had now, however, not only secured the safety, and
with it the gratitude of the colonies, but also confirmed over them, it
was supposed, the authority of the mother country. But if the
termination of the French war, says the author, seemed to the government
a fair occasion for resuming designs never lost sight of, its progress,
however calamitous, had nurtured the free and adventurous spirit of the
colonists by privations and dangers, until their minds, as well as their
resources, were matured for effectual resistance. Their trade, indeed,
was burdened with duties imposed for its regulation and restriction; but
no tax had yet been laid for the mere purpose of revenue. Sir Robert
Walpole "had sagaciously remarked, that, contenting himself with the
benefits of their trade, he would leave the taxation of the Americans to
some of his successors, who had more courage, and less regard for
commerce." The Stamp-Act, by which the experiment was now to be tried,
being stripped of the odious machinery of collection, and operating
indirectly, was a well contrived initiatory measure. Coupled with it,
however, were certain harsh enforcements of the trade-laws at this time,
which had the effect of raising higher the indignation of the colonists,
and of confounding the distinction hitherto, though reluctantly
admitted, between the right to regulate their commerce, and that of
direct taxation.

Circumstances prevented Maryland from expressing her opposition to the
measure through her legislature, before, and for some period after its
adoption. The act was passed on the 22d of March, 1765, and that body
was repeatedly prorogued, from November, 1763, to September, 1765. This
delay, at such a juncture, did not escape strong remonstrance. There
existed, however, at that time, another mirror of the public feeling,
whose respectable antiquity deserves mention. This was a journal at
Annapolis, conducted by Jonas Green, under the name of "The Maryland
Gazette." It was established in 1745, and has ever since been conducted
by his descendants, under the same title. Its pithy appeals to the
popular sentiment are amusing at this day; and, though the government
paper, its temperate support of colonial rights made it the vehicle of
communications on that side, not only from the province, but from other
colonies. In one from Virginia, the writer says, "it being well known
that the only press we have here is totally engrossed for the vile
purposes of ministerial craft, I must therefore apply to you, who have
always appeared to be a bold and honest assertor of the cause of
liberty." The person selected for the distribution of the stamps in
Maryland, was Zachariah Hood, a native of the province, and at one time
a merchant residing at Annapolis. His appointment was announced with due
mock ceremony in the Gazette, and himself to be a gentleman whose
conduct was highly approved by all "court-cringing politicians, since he
was supposed to have wisely considered, that, if his country must be
_stamped_, the blow would be easier borne from a native than a
foreigner." His arrival also was greeted with customary honours; his
effigy, according to a circumstantial narrative in the Gazette, being
hung to the toll of bells, by the "assertors of British American
privileges" at Annapolis, and afterwards at Baltimore, Elk-Ridge,
Fredericktown, and other places, in emulation. These significant tokens
of the popular temper seem to have been promoted, as acts of deliberate
defiance, by men of authority and character; as among the "assertors" at
Annapolis was the celebrated Samuel Chase, who, at twenty-four, was
already the champion of colonial liberties, and gave promise of that
combination of abilities, which afterward elevated him beyond rivalry in
the province, as a lawyer and advocate, and a leader both of popular and
deliberative assemblies. Talents thus employed would naturally provoke
the calumny of opponents. A publication of the municipality of
Annapolis, describes him as "a busy, restless incendiary, a ringleader
of mobs, and a promoter of their excesses; a foul-mouthed and inflaming
son of discord and faction." His reply, "abounding in personal
reflections, and savouring too much of coarse invective," shows
something of the spirit of a tribune of the people, who, thrown into a
tumultuous scene, and into contests with the courtly adherents of power,
might deem himself excused for some disdain of reserve, and some
bluntness of phrase. I admit, he says, that I was one of those who
committed to the flames the effigy of the Stamp-Distributor, and who
openly disputed the parliamentary right to tax the colonies; while some
of you skulked in your houses, and grumbled in corners, asserting the
Stamp-Act to be a beneficial law, or not daring to speak out your
sentiments. The reader may be curious to know Hood's subsequent
adventures. Not daring to distribute the stamps, and finding the
indignation which had been lavished on his effigy, taking a more
dangerous direction towards his person, he absconded secretly, and never
paused in his flight till he reached New-York, and had taken refuge
under the cannon of Fort George. Having gone afterwards to reside on
Long Island, a party surrounded the house where he was concealed,
requiring the abjuration of his office, on pain of being delivered to
the exasperated multitude, and carried back to Maryland, with labels
upon him signifying his office and designs. Unwilling to run this
gantlet through a country up in arms, he yielded, and was accompanied by
upwards of a hundred gentlemen from Flushing to Jamaica, where he swore
to his abjuration, and was discharged.

The first measure of the assembly, when at length convened, was to
appoint commissioners to a general congress that was to be held in
New-York; its next, to make an expression of its sentiments on the
existing question. The tone and unanimity of the resolves adopted,
sufficiently show, in the author's opinion, that the temper and course
of Maryland at this juncture, have been too lightly considered, and may
advantageously be compared with those of any other colony. Another of
her contributions, and not the least effective, to the common cause, was
an essay published at Annapolis, in October, 1765. "A style easy but
energetic, perspicuous thoughts, illustrations simple, and arguments
addressed to every understanding," betrayed it to be the production of
Daniel Dulany, the younger, whom it placed at once in the first rank of
political writers. Long signal for talents and professional learning,
his "Considerations" earned him the more grateful distinction of the
great champion of colonial liberties; and in the joyous celebrations of
the repeal of the stamp-act, placed him in remembrance with Camden, and
with Chatham, his admirer and eulogist. It is known, that in this essay
Mr. Dulany, though bold and decided as to the question of right, urged
the disuse of British commodities as the most advisable weapon of
resistance. This appeal to the commercial cupidity of England would,
also, he thought, be the most effectual. The course, even could it have
been perseveringly adopted, was too pacific for the temper of the times.

Political integrity and abilities associated the name of Dulany with the
history of Maryland, during the better part of a century. The father of
the distinguished person just mentioned, was admitted to the bar of the
provincial court in 1710, and for forty years held the first place in
the confidence of the proprietary and in the popular affection, being a
functionary in the highest post of trusts, and long a leader also of the
country party in the assembly. He was a kinsman of the celebrated
Delany, the intimate of Swift, some of whose letters to him breathe the
tone both of friendship and reverend regard. His son, Daniel Dulany,
_the Greater_, (as our author styles him,) came to the bar in 1747, and
was named one of the council in 1757; in 1761, he was appointed
secretary of the province, and thenceforward held these posts in
conjunction, till the Revolution. His legal arguments and opinions, the
praise of contemporaries, and the deference of courts, attest him to
have been an _oracle_ of law; as a scholar and an orator, he was not
only highly celebrated at home, but in the judgment of Mr. Pinkney, who
saw him but in his "evening declination," unexcelled by the master minds
abroad. Suavity of manners, and the graces of the person, combine to
complete a most agreeable picture.

The stamp-paper had now arrived. The governor, to whom the lower house
had refused all advice as to the disposal of that paper, found it
expedient to pursue the suggestion of the upper, to retain it on board
of the vessel. By a general consent, the ordinary transactions of
business and of the courts proceeded without it, and on the 24th of
February, 1766, an association, bearing the name of the "Sons of
Liberty," was formed at Baltimore, with the object of compelling the
government offices at Annapolis to dispense with it likewise. They
assembled at that place on a day assigned, the 31st of March; and the
provincial court and other offices, after first a peremptory refusal,
and some delay, conceded the point. Thus was the stamp-act virtually
annulled in Maryland; it had been repealed in England a few days before,
on the 18th of March; so that, in the author's words, "Maryland was
never polluted even by an attempt to execute it."

Of the subsequent revival of the scheme of taxing the colonies, the
manner and the event are so well known, that we have only to notice the
contemporary transactions in Maryland, which fanning the resentment of
her people, kept her at an even pace with the other provinces in the
march of resistance. The "Proclamation and Vestry Act questions," have
lost indeed their momentary interest, but serve to show in how many
schools of exercise the champions were trained, who afterward displayed
their collected prowess in a more conspicuous arena.

The colonial legislature had always controlled the provincial officers
by exercising the right to determine their fees, which, by way of
further precaution, they had been in the habit of regulating by
temporary acts. An act of this nature, passed in 1763, coming up for
renewal in 1770, objections were made to the exorbitance of the fees
themselves, abuses in the mode of charging, and the want of a proper
system of commutation. Angry discussions were followed by a prorogation
of the assembly, and subsequently by a proclamation of Governor Eden,
ostensibly to prevent extortion in the officers, but with the real
purpose of regulating the fees by the prerogative of his office;
accordingly, he re-established the fee-act of 1763. The proclamation
begat the usual array of parties for and against prerogative, in which
our author includes the established clergy on the government side, and
on the popular, the lawyers. In this conflict of influence and
abilities, by a turn which is to be lamented, as it threw them into
collision with the Revolutionary leaders, and exciting high resentments
on both sides, kept him aloof from their measures, Daniel Dulany was, in
this question, the prominent partisan of the governor and upper house.
The grounds somewhat technical on which he defended their procedure as
both legal and expedient, and the more large and comprehensive ones on
which it was impugned, were set forth in a series of essays in the
Maryland Gazette, in which Mr. Dulany's antagonist was Charles Carroll
of Carrollton. The angry excitement of the day gave these essays one
feature in common,--strong invective, and personalities,--"of which,
some are now unintelligible, and all deserve to be forgotten." Their
distinctive characteristics are,--in Mr. Dulany's, "the traces
everywhere of a powerful mind, confident in its own resources, indignant
at opposition, contemptuous, as if from conscious superiority, yet
sometimes affecting contempt to escape from principles not to be
resisted;" in his opponent's, the language of a man "confident in his
cause, conscious that he is sustained by public sentiment, and exulting
in the advantage of this position." When the discussion was dropped by
these combatants, it was taken up by others, as vigorous and adroit. In
this new controversy, John Hammond, no contemptible reasoner in behalf
of the proclamation, found antagonists in Thomas Johnson, the first
governor of the _state_ of Maryland, Samuel Chase, and his more
conciliatory friend and coadjutor, William Paca. In the proceedings of
the lower house relative to this subject, we find a sententious
description of political liberty, which might serve as the motto of all
_Constitutionalists_. "Who," says their address, "_who are a free
people? Not_ those over whom government is reasonably and equitably
exercised, but those who live under a government so constitutionally
checked and controlled, that proper provision is made against its being
otherwise exercised."

The "Vestry Act" related to _clergy dues_, and the controversy on it
arose out of the technical objection, that the law imposing them, which
was enacted in 1701-2, was passed by an assembly, which, being dissolved
by the demise of the king, had nevertheless been convened with fresh
writs of election. The law thus regarded as intrinsically defective, had
the farther demerit of being revived, (as in the case of the officer's
fees,) in default of an existing enactment, by proclamation of the
governor. In this discussion the clergy naturally took a part, and
"found in their own body an advocate of extraordinary powers, in the
person of Jonathan Boucher." These questions filled the province with
contention. An act regulating clergy dues, some time after, put that
question to sleep; the other remained in angry suspense, till swallowed
up, with all less disputes, in the vortex of the Revolution.

That event was now nearly impending. It may be remembered, that the duty
act of 1767, in which the ministerial scheme of taxing the colonies had
been revived, had been subsequently repealed, except as to the article
of tea, on which the duty had been retained, "by way, it has been
remarked, of pepper-corn rent, to denote the tenure of colonial rights."
A new stratagem of the ministry in this matter was followed, it is also
known, by "the burning of the tea in Boston," and by the retaliatory
measure of the Boston-Port Bill; acts, respectively, which may be said
to have made up the issue between the conflicting parties. The
convention in 1774, assembled at Annapolis, in June of that year. In the
October following, the _tea-burning_ at Boston was re-enacted in
Maryland, with circumstances of deliberation and defiance that show what
a flame was abroad. On the 14th of that month, the brig Peggy Stewart
arrived at Annapolis, having, as a part of her cargo, seventeen packages
of tea. The non-importation agreement, to which the act of 1767 had
given rise, was understood to be retained as to this article, which
still bore the badge of usurpation in the obnoxious duty. The consignees
did not venture to incur the public indignation by landing the teas,
without at least consulting the Non-Importation Committee; but in the
meantime, the vessel was entered, and the duties paid by Anthony
Stewart, a part owner of the vessel. The people, highly incensed,
determined, _in a public meeting_, at Annapolis, that the tea should not
be landed. It was proposed, in a subsequent one, to burn it; and at a
county meeting which followed, it was decided, that this should be
accompanied also by a most humiliating apology from Stewart and the
consignees. As the people now threatened to burn the vessel itself, the
former, by the advice of Carroll of Carrollton, proposed to destroy her
with his own hands. Crowds repaired to the water-side to witness the
atonement; the vessel was run ashore at _Windmill Point_, where Stewart
set fire to his own vessel, with the tea on board.

All was now preparation for open hostilities. Military associations were
formed, military exercises eagerly engaged in, and subscriptions set
afoot for purchasing arms and ammunition. The planters were requested to
cultivate flax, hemp, and cotton, and to enlarge their flocks with a
view to the manufacture of woollens. At this point we must leave Mr.
M'Mahon. On the appearance of his second volume, we may resume his
narrative from this period, and take the same occasion to notice some
other matters in his work, for the discussion of which we have not room
at present.


[Footnote 10: New Travels by the Abbé Robin, one of the Chaplains to the
French Army in N. America.]




    ART. X.--_Notes on Italy._ By REMBRANDT PEALE. 1 vol 8 vo.
    Carey & Lea: Philadelphia: 1831.


To review a new volume of travels in Italy, may seem to many readers an
unprofitable task. Since its shores were first hailed by the faithful
Achates, it has been the goal of travellers and the theme of authors.
Every age has sent its children to visit that favoured soil; and the
barbarians who rudely invaded it from beyond its Alpine barriers, have
been followed by successive generations of men, less rude indeed from
the progress of time, but not less ardent to explore and overrun it.
Peace and war have alike urged them on. Its mountains, its valleys, its
defiles, its broad and sunny plains, have resounded for hundreds of
years with the clash of arms, and glittered with innumerable warriors;
bands scarcely less numerous have penetrated every corner, led by
spirits inquisitive for knowledge or fond of dwelling on beauties of
nature, perhaps unrivalled, and on the certain charms of refined and
exquisite art, with which no other land, however favoured, has yet dared
to offer a comparison. Nor is there wanting the ample, the reiterated
record of all this. Historians, and poets, and antiquarians, and
novelists, and travellers, have made familiar every incident of every
age--every allusion that can give fresh and delightful associations to
every spot. What ruin is there that they have not made eloquent? What
mountain, what grove, can eager curiosity, urged on by the enthusiasm of
taste and genius, discover, which is not already hallowed--that has not
"murmured forth a solemn sound."

Yet, still, we read over the oft-repeated tale; we can bear to hear
again and again the history of Roman grandeur; we delight to trace the
footsteps of warriors, of statesmen, of heroes, philosophers, and poets,
whom we have learnt to regard rather as old friends, as household
deities, as companions who have enchanted our youth, and beguiled our
later years,--who have given us at once rules and lessons of human
conduct, and pleasing visions to delight our fancies and our hearts,
than as merely individuals in the great family of mankind. We can bear
to dwell again and again on the graphic page which imparts to us the
knowledge of those triumphant efforts of taste, of genius, and of art,
whose charm time cannot injure, and which become to us the more dear,
because they remain after centuries have passed away, with scarcely a
single rival.

We were impressed with these feelings when we took up the unpretending
volume before us; we can scarcely doubt, that they will be common to
many at least of our readers, when they find our page headed with
"_Notes on Italy_." To these sentiments will be justly added a
favourable impression from the character of the writer, and the
circumstances which have led to his tour and to the publication of the
present volume.

As early as the year 1786, Charles Wilson Peale, the father of the
author, and a gentleman whose name is well known as connected with the
infant arts and sciences of America, was the first person to build an
exhibition room in the city of Philadelphia. There he displayed to a
public, perhaps but little prepared to appreciate them, the first
collection of Italian paintings, and there his son acquired in his
earliest youth, not only an enthusiastic admiration for the art itself,
which he has since successfully cultivated, but an ardent desire to
visit the region where he could behold the productions of artists whose
genius he had learned to venerate.

Having commenced his studies as a painter under the direction of his
father, he went to England, during the peace of 1802, with the design of
visiting France and Italy. The renewal of hostilities, however,
prevented this, and after availing himself for a short time of the
benefits London offered, he returned home. In 1807, he again crossed the
Atlantic; the disturbed situation of the continent obliged him to
confine himself to France; but in the gallery of the Louvre he could
admire, study, and emulate the noblest productions of the pencil and the
chisel, collected by that wonderful man, who loved to blend in the
triumphs of warlike ambition, the trophies dear to philanthropy, to
science, and to art. Mr. Peale returned to his own country, not
satisfied however, because Italy itself was yet unseen. It was in vain
that an increasing patronage and attention to the fine arts in his own
country offered him renewed reasons to remain there; he was as restless
as before, and in 1810 we again find him in Paris, and again obliged, by
the unsettled state of Europe, to forego his long cherished visit. He
returned to his own country; but the fever that still burned as in the
ardour of youth, was not allayed, and the idea that his dreams of Italy
were never to be realized, seemed, as he tells us, to darken the cloud
which hung over the prospect of death itself. For a number of years the
duties required by a large family forbade his separation from them; but
these at length permitted the gratification of his wishes, and
patronised by the liberality of several gentlemen of New-York, at the
age of fifty-one he was able to gratify a desire which had not failed to
increase with his years. The narrative of his tour, which occupied
nearly two years, is embraced in this volume. His main object was to
examine the celebrated works of Italian art, and to select, for the
employment of his pencil, some of the most excellent pictures of the
great masters which are preserved in Rome and Florence; the copies of
these carefully made cannot fail to advance, among the artists and
amateurs of his own country, a correct knowledge of the fine arts.

With his thoughts and his pursuits directed chiefly to this object, we
find in the volume before us, no pretension and little attention to
antiquarian research, or classical allusion, which have been so
generally called forth by the mouldering monuments, and the familiar
scenes connected with the history and poetry of earlier days. Neither do
we meet with the elaborate reflections on the political or social state
of Italy, in the present day. It is true, the remarks of Mr. Peale are
not confined to works of art, for he could not shut his eyes to the
scenes among which he had to pass, and he was not uninfluenced by a
general curiosity and love of truth;--but they are the notes of a
transient observer, whose mind was turned to other things. Yet they are
found not unfrequently to convey lively impressions of the state of
society and manners, and of the local peculiarities of Italy.

Having sailed from New-York, Mr. Peale arrived at Paris, in the month of
December, 1828. After a short stay there, merely sufficient to glance
over the principal works of art, and to regret the altered situation of
the magnificent gallery of Napoleon, deprived of the matchless memorials
of his conquests, he continued his journey towards the south of France.
Passing through Lyons, the route continued a long way on the border of
the rapid Rhone, upon which he saw but one vessel,--whilst the road
presented a constant procession of wagons. Such a stream in America,
between two great cities, would be covered with steam-boats. As the road
advanced south, it passed through more abundant vineyards, the verdure
of the fields became more extensive, and, on each side, were seen vast
orchards of mulberry trees, for the support of silk-worms, tributary to
the great manufactories of silk at Lyons. As he approached Marseilles,
the milder atmosphere gave evidence of a more genial climate, and the
altered costume of the women, of a different people--to the caps common
after leaving Paris, was now added a piece of black silk, of the size
and shape of a plate laid on the top of the head; and, in the immediate
vicinity of the town, the women wore black hats, with small round crowns
and broad rims. Marseilles is a large and bustling sea-port, with but
little to detain those who are in search of the productions of Italian
art. Instead of pursuing the route he had intended, by Aix and Genoa,
Mr. Peale here embarked in a Neapolitan ship, and, after a stormy and
uncomfortable passage of ten days, found himself in the magnificent Bay
of Naples. Four weeks were devoted to an examination of the works of art
in the various galleries, palaces, and churches;--and most of the
curiosities, the objects which attract an inquisitive traveller, were
examined. Among the latter may be mentioned the catacombs of _Santa
Maria della Vita_, which are thus described:--

    "Descending into the valley of houses, and then rising to
    the foot of a neighbouring hill, we entered the court yard
    of a vast hospital for the poor; an establishment made by
    the French, in which are men, women, and girls, each class
    being kept separate and made to work. Here an old man
    presented himself who officiated as an experienced guide,
    furnished with a lantern and great flambeau made of ropes
    impregnated with some kind of resin. A little back lane
    conducted us to a kind of grotto, containing an altar
    ornamented with several marble medallions, which are said to
    have been sculptured by the early Christians. This chapel
    served as an entrance to the chambers of the dead, which
    consist of long, winding, and intricate passages, cut out of
    the _tufa_ rock; in procuring which, for the purposes of
    building, these vast subterranean excavations were
    originally made, and afterwards used as depositories of the
    dead. During the persecutions against the early Christians,
    they were occupied by them either secretly as places of
    residence, where they might practise their worship
    unmolested, or, by the permission of their pagan
    persecutors, as abodes of the most humiliating kind,
    secluded from the light of day. Here our guide, preceding us
    with his smoking torch, which he occasionally struck on the
    walls, so as to scatter off a radiating flood of sparks
    which left him a brighter flame, showed us the little
    lateral recesses in which the humble believers were
    contented to lie, and shelves, excavated in the rock, in
    which their mortal remains were deposited after death. He
    pointed out the larger chambers, somewhat decorated with
    columns and arches in faint relief, in which the priests
    resided; the places where altars stood; and, in a higher
    excavation, raised his torch to a rude recess, or sunken
    balcony above the arched passage, whence the word was
    preached to the faithful below in a hall of great width. The
    chambers occupied by the most distinguished characters were
    denoted by better sculpture, Mosaic incrustations, and
    fresco paintings. We followed the windings of these
    subterranean corridors to a great extent, till we reached a
    hall which was said to be a quarter of a mile in height; but
    whether contrived for the purpose of ventilation, or as a
    shaft for raising the stone, we could not ascertain, any
    more than we could the accuracy of our guide's information,
    that the bodies of hundreds of martyrs were thrown down
    there by their pagan murderers, whence they were conveyed by
    their surviving friends into the niches prepared for them.
    From these remote parts, passages, now closed, were formerly
    open, which communicated with other catacombs and villages
    for sixteen miles round, affording the inmates, it is said,
    the means of escaping the persecutions which, from time to
    time, fell upon a sect so obnoxious to the pagan priesthood.

    "We found the bones in these catacombs in excellent
    preservation, and on many the flesh of fifteen hundred years
    was still of such tenacious though pliant fibre, that it
    required a sharp knife to cut off a piece. The guide showed
    us the heads of some of those early Christians, with the
    tongues still remaining in them, but would not permit us to
    take one away. Here lived the venerated St. Januarius, whose
    particular cell was pointed out to us; and to these retreats
    was his dead body borne after his martyrdom; though some
    ancient painters represent him walking back with his head in
    his hands.

    "We then visited the church of _Santa Maria della Vita_; it
    is an old and curious edifice, rich in marbles, and
    remarkable for the style of the grand altar, which is
    constructed over another one, as on a bridge, to which you
    rise by two lateral flights of steps, ornamented with
    elegant balustrades of costly marbles. The old monk showed
    us, behind the altar, an ancient painting of the Madonna,
    resembling an Indian, and a precious door to a case
    containing some sacred relic; but as we did not seem
    interested in these, he proceeded to open a door in the side
    wall, and requested us to walk in. To our surprise it was
    the entrance to another series of catacombs, in which were
    deposited the dead within the last two hundred years. These
    were placed in perpendicular niches in the rock, and
    plastered up, leaving only a part of the head projecting;
    the men with their faces out, the women with their faces in,
    only exposing the backs of their heads, from which the hair
    had long since fallen. By scraping away the plaster, some of
    the skeletons appeared in their whole extent, among which
    was an extraordinary one of a man about eight feet tall. The
    plaster which covers these bodies, thus showing only one
    half of the head, was painted so as to imitate the entire
    figure, clothed as men or women, and sometimes representing
    them as skeletons in part covered with drapery, with various
    inscriptions above them. The deeper recesses of these vaults
    led to chambers where we saw two carcasses of men, deposited
    only six months since; the flesh not decaying, but gradually
    drying up. They were naked and seated in niches in the wall,
    with their heads and arms hanging forward in very grotesque
    postures. In the catacombs which we first visited, the dead
    were generally placed horizontally, whereas here, all that
    we now saw were standing erect. We entered some chambers,
    however, with numerous empty horizontal recesses."

All the spots around Naples, of particular interest, as Vesuvius,
Posilippo, and Portici were visited; crowds of beggars were encountered
in all directions; but the people in general appeared to be healthy,
lively, and happy. The streets are made gay by the immense number of
carriages with which the public are accommodated at a very cheap rate,
and people of all ranks are seen splashing along, sometimes to the
number of seven or eight, clinging, as well as they can, to a vehicle
scarcely large enough to hold half the number. The Neapolitans speak
with great gesticulation, using many signs which have a known meaning;
and they may sometimes be seen thus conversing across the street, from
the upper stories of opposite houses. They are, of course, great eaters
of macaroni, which is seen dangling from the shops in all parts of the
city; and nothing is more amusing than the humble purchasers gathered
around the stalls, stretching their necks with open mouths to suck it
in.

Having seen as much of Naples as a long succession of bad weather
permitted, our travellers set out in a vetturino for Rome, under the
guidance of a snug, young, leather-breeched postilion, who spoke nothing
but broad Italian. Crossing the Pontine marshes, where, it is probable,
the wintry season prevented the frogs and musquitoes from recalling to
their recollection the sufferings of Horace, they first looked down from
the heights of Albano on the dome of St. Peter's, glittering in the
bright rays of the sun, which just then broke through the clouds. On the
last day of January, Mr. Peale found himself comfortably placed in a
hotel of the Piazza di Spagna, ready to explore all that the eternal
city could offer to his curious research. He remained at Rome till the
month of July following.

His earliest visit was to St. Peter's, which he has minutely and
graphically depicted. His first sensation he describes as one of
surprise at the brightness and elegance of the whole interior, and in
part of disappointment at the apparent want of magnitude. This was
probably occasioned by the colossal statues, which, being proportioned
to the vast pilasters, arches, and columns, seem to reduce the whole to
an ordinary scale; and also to the wonderful harmony of all the parts,
which prevents the contrast necessary to fill the mind with a sense of a
gigantic object. When he had, however, walked over the wide fields of
pavement, and compared the human beings before him with the stupendous
masses around, he became by degrees convinced of the mighty magnitude,
and experienced increased emotions of wonder and delight.

His visit to St. Peter's was followed by a minute survey of all the
principal churches, galleries, antique monuments, and ruins, with which
Rome abounds, among them, and in the study of the works of the great
masters of art, he found five months pass rapidly away.

The houses of modern Rome generally present a good appearance, from the
circumstance, that, although built of brick, they are, with few
exceptions, plastered with great skill and dexterity to resemble stone,
outside and inside. The puzzolana earth forms an admirable cement, and
even when placed on the tops of houses it forms a terrace impenetrable
by water. The streets are kept rather clean by the employment of
convicts, but there is always abundance of dirt around the dwellings of
the poor, who inhabit the ground floors, which are used not only for the
residence of poverty and wretchedness, but for stables, and shops of
every kind. The men, women, and children, however, in these unpromising
abodes, are fat, dirty, and merry, and present no appearance of being
victims of malaria or despotism. The streets, except the Corso, are
seldom straight; but in the evenings they are filled with people, the
rich taking a fashionable drive, with the utmost seriousness and
silence, the poor lying and sitting on the ground, eating a piece of
bread, or a fresh head of lettuce, in general, silent and serious like
their betters, but occasionally bursting into roars of laughter, and
expressing their hilarity by loudly clapping their hands.

    "As the warm weather advances, every kind of workman who can
    get out his little bench, apparatus or chair, is at work in
    the street close up to his house. I have counted nine
    shoemakers, with their stalls, in front of one house, for
    the purpose of enjoying light and air. Benches and chairs
    are likewise occupied by the idle, chiefly old gentlemen, in
    front of the coffee-houses, especially in the Corso, where
    they are amused by the continual movement of carriages and
    pedestrians. In the evening, especially on holidays, tables
    are spread out with white cloths, and brilliantly
    illuminated and decorated with flowers, containing various
    articles of food, whilst a cook is busy on one side with his
    portable kitchen, cooking dough-nuts, or other articles,
    which are eaten on the spot.

    "The English and French style of dress, both among men and
    women, prevails not only in the higher classes, but through
    all others, and in every part of the city. Huge Parisian
    bonnets, full set with broad ribands, are seen in every
    street; contrasting widely with the fashion of the country,
    which covers the head with a white linen cloth, folded
    square, and either hanging loose, or kept flat by sticks
    within them, or long pins like skewers, which bind up the
    hair. Long waists and stays are universal--the rich wear the
    fashionable corset of France--the poor, the stays of the
    country, thick set with bone, covered with gay velvet, and
    worn outside of their gowns, when they have any on, and tied
    at the top and back of the shoulders with long bunches of
    gay ribands. An apron, skirted with many coloured bands,
    hangs in front of a short petticoat with similar bands, and
    the shoes have great silver buckles. The taste for large ear
    and finger rings is universal, and heavy rolls of beads
    encircle almost every neck--the dark red coral being
    calculated, by its contrast, to improve their brown Italian
    complexion.

    "The peasants, as they appear in town, differ from these, in
    wearing coarse pointed wool hats, decorated with ribands or
    flowers; wretched, old, ragged, or patched clothes; breeches
    without buttons or strings at the knees; sandals which they
    make out of raw hide, turning up a little above the sole,
    and with strong cords bound to their feet, the cord passing
    around their legs and up to their knees, encircling coarse
    linen or rags, which they wear instead of stockings. On
    Sundays and holidays, certain streets, as the _Repetti_, are
    the rendezvous of labouring men, who are then a little, but
    very little, better dressed than on other days; always
    displaying their stout legs in coarse white stockings, their
    knees still unbuttoned, and their shirt collars open even in
    cool weather, and, if warm, their jacket across one
    shoulder, one sleeve hanging in front--the other behind, and
    shifted to the other shoulder, should their exposure to the
    wind or current of air require it. I have often stopped to
    notice these groups, and have been surprised to find them
    generally silent, but with an expression of content.
    Occasionally, when a joke would circulate, it was managed
    with the fewest words. It is only when much excited, that a
    Roman displays any volubility of tongue or extravagance of
    gesticulation to disturb his usual air of dignity--whether
    above or below contempt--whether with much thought or with
    no thought at all.

    "The Romans are certainly a sober people, but the lower
    classes, though they are not afflicted by Irish, Scotch, or
    American whiskey, Holland gin, or English porter, yet often
    indulge to excess in the cheap wine of the country. Every
    body drinks wine, and to offer water to a beggar would be an
    insult. It is only used occasionally with lemons in hot
    weather. At a late hour in the evening, in many streets, may
    be heard the noise of Bacchanalian merriment proceeding from
    some deep cavernous chamber, which, seen by lamp-light,
    shows nothing but coarse plastered walls, a greasy brick
    pavement, and benches and tables, around which, in the
    absence of all other comforts, the most miserable enjoy
    their principal, or only meal of the day, and freely
    circulate the bottle as a social bond. Besides, on holidays,
    the wine shops are frequented by groups of men and women,
    who sometimes exhibit around the door a noisy and licentious
    crowd. But wine is not always deemed sufficient, and those
    who are disposed to take a walk about sunrise, may every day
    see persons with little baskets of _aqua vitæ_, which is
    swallowed by artificers between their beds and their
    workshops."

During Mr. Peale's stay at Rome, the election of the pope afforded him
an opportunity of witnessing the many gorgeous and striking ceremonies,
which attend the elevation of the spiritual father of the church to his
temporal throne. These he has described minutely, but with little
variation from the accounts given by those who have been at Rome on
previous and similar occasions. He speaks of the sudden illumination of
the vast dome of St. Peter's, as a sight of singular magnificence; in an
instant the whole edifice appeared to throw out flowers of flame, and
then, a few moments after, a new succession of lights, still more vivid,
by their superior brightness, rendered the first nearly invisible.

From Rome, Mr. Peale went to Tivoli, and spent some days among the
lovely scenery of that spot, familiar to every one who has not forgotten
the exquisite praises Horace has bestowed on it. He saw and admired the
remnants of the temple of the Sibyl, which Claude Lorraine has so often
selected to add to the harmony and beauty of his inimitable landscapes;
and amid the importunities of beggars, who infest a traveller in Italy
in every haunt to which the love of antiquity or of scenery can lead
him, and beneath the spray of the cataract--the _polvere del'acqua_, as
it was called by the natives--he sketched a drawing of a spot which
poets and painters have alike loved to select in ancient and modern
days.

On entering Tuscany, he was pleased to find no longer the rags and
patches of Naples and Rome, but a peasantry, better clad, and more
industrious; the country was in a fine state of cultivation, and the
habitations were neat and commodious. It was the season of harvest, and
the fields abounded with men and women in nearly equal numbers, and
apparently happy as they were cheerful.

At Florence, where Mr. Peale arrived on the 7th of July, he remained
until the 22d of April following, thus devoting to that fair seat of the
arts more than eight months. His time was zealously employed in the
pursuit of his favourite studies; and he made, in the galleries so
liberally opened to artists, copies of many of those works which have
been considered as masterpieces at all times, which have been deemed the
noblest of the spoils of conquest, and have become the guides of
aspiring genius, and the test of taste, throughout the world.

The manners of the inhabitants are lively, but in general decorous; and
whenever crowds are accidentally assembled, they disperse without
tumult.

    "In the public square it is common, once or twice a week, to
    see a quack doctor, seated in his chaise or gig, haranguing
    the crowd, with the most impassioned language and gestures:
    at one corner of his carriage is a banner consisting of a
    hideous portrait of an old monk, from whom he professes to
    have learned his precious secrets in the healing art;
    occasionally he displays a book of botanical engravings,
    gaily coloured, to show his knowledge of nature and his
    reliance on the bounty of Providence, invoking frequently
    the name of the Blessed Virgin, and reverently taking off
    his hat, in which he is imitated by the faithful around him.
    At the end of his discourse he produces his medicines, which
    are eagerly bought by the credulous.

    "Occasionally, too, a dentist appears, on horseback, with an
    attendant, likewise on horseback, who, in a similar manner,
    but with an eloquence more voluble, and language more
    refined, expatiates on his well known skill and experience;
    and then, to suit his action to the word, proceeds to draw
    the teeth gratuitously of any that may present themselves at
    the left side of his horse, to the amount of five or six. It
    is surprising with what dexterity he performs the act,
    without moving from his saddle. Afterwards, if any one wants
    the assistance of the accomplished dentist, he must be
    sought at his lodgings."

The number of beggars, though great in itself, is small, when compared
to that at Rome. Every place, too, is crowded with persons who pester
you with knives, razors, and combs--linens, silks, and cloths--cravats,
shawls, and rugs--alabaster carvings, and every thing that can be
carried about by hand, which they persecute you to buy in spite of your
no, no, which means nothing to them. Experienced Italians send off the
dirty fellows with a "_caro mio_"--"no, my dear, I am not in want of
it." The streets are kept remarkably clean, and the houses are generally
substantial and well built, but less ornamented with stucco and
sculpture, than those of Rome. The public edifices are remarkable rather
for massive strength than architectural beauty, looking more like
fortresses than palaces, and black with stone and time. There are
numerous fountains scattered through the city; but, amidst the abundance
of bronze and marble ornaments which they exhibit, the stream of water
they pour out is extremely insignificant. The coffee-houses are well
served, the favourite ices are made with clean ice taken from the
streams, instead of the frozen and dirty snow collected in the
mountains, which is used at Rome. In all public places of resort, are
seen quantities of beautiful and fragrant flowers, the delight of the
Florentines; and men are everywhere met who carry baskets of them, which
are offered not only to the ladies, but are presented bunch after bunch,
with the most persevering assiduity, to gentlemen who are sipping their
coffee, eating their ice-creams, or reading the papers.

While Mr. Peale was in Florence, he had the good fortune to witness the
powers of the most celebrated improvisatrice of the day, _Rosa Taddei_,
of Naples. Her performances took place at the principal theatre, two or
three times on each occasion, but with intervals of several days:--

    "When the curtain rose, the scene was that of a parlour,
    seated. On the entrance of Rosa Taddei, she was greeted with
    loud applause by her old friends and confiding expectants.
    She appeared to be about thirty years of age, and, though
    small, her uncorsetted chest gave ample space for the
    important action of her powerful lungs. She was dressed as a
    private lady. Her pale face indicated a studious life, but
    her forehead was low and narrow, though her head was broad;
    her little sunken eye was quick in its movements, and when
    it looked intently out, to fashion the measure of a thought,
    was accompanied by a slight contraction of the brow that
    banished all suspicion of coquetry. Her nose was small, and
    her mouth would be called ordinary; but when it was about to
    speak, it quivered delicately with the rising emotion, and
    varied its expression according to the passion of her
    discourse.

    "A servant now advances to the front of the stage, holding a
    little casket, destined to received the papers which are
    handed from different parts of the house, containing
    subjects proposed for recitation. When about forty of these
    are received, the casket is placed on a side table. Without
    reading them she folds and returns them to the casket. This
    is an operation of some time, and serves to give the
    appearance of business, and, perhaps, composure to the
    performer. Advancing to the side boxes and orchestra, she
    offers successively to different persons the casket, out of
    which, each time, a paper is drawn and presented to her.
    With a grave, deliberate, and emphatic voice she reads the
    theme proposed. If the subject is hackneyed, dull, or unfit,
    a lamentable and deep-toned ah! synonymous with our bah! is
    heard from various parts of the house; on which she tears up
    the paper with an impressive look, which seems to say--such
    is your pleasure. When six or seven subjects are approved by
    the cries of yes, yes, she places them on her side table,
    selects one, and, advancing to the piano, decides upon a
    musical harmony, which the professor immediately begins to
    play, and continues delicately; during which she walks in
    measured steps across the stage backwards and forwards,
    looking earnestly down, occasionally pausing, sometimes
    raising her hand to her mouth or forehead. The crowded house
    is silent as death, and she is only influenced by the
    measure of the music and the arrangement of her unseen
    materials of thought. This being completed, she suddenly
    advances, and begins with a burst of language, in which she
    continues with unhesitating volubility and moderate action,
    occasionally uttering some fine expression that draws forth
    from experienced critics an approving bravo! It was to be
    remarked, that as she advanced to the termination of every
    line, couplet, or stanza, according to the compass of the
    sentiment, there was a dwelling on the syllables and a
    monotonous chanting, very much resembling the cadence of a
    Quaker preacher; thereby permitting her thoughts to advance
    and fashion the commencement of the following line, couplet,
    or stanza, which was always eagerly and expressively
    pronounced at its commencement, and as regularly terminated
    in the thought-resolving chant.

    "Among the subjects which she treated, some of which she
    began with little preparation, were the following:--The
    discoveries of Galileo and Columbus, and the ingratitude of
    their country; two Doctors, a Lawyer and Jealous Woman; a
    Lawyer's Inkhorn; and a Dialogue between the Dome of St.
    Peter and the Dome of Florence. This last appeared to
    perplex her a little, and it was some time before she could
    fashion it to her mind; indeed, there was an expectation,
    from the frequency of her turns across the stage, and her
    contracted brow, that she would be obliged to acknowledge a
    failure; but when she advanced and began in elegant strains
    to state the difficult nature of the singular task imposed
    on her, to give tongues to the domes so long silent, and
    listen to so distant a dialogue between the Duomo, the boast
    of Florence, and the Dome of St. Peter, suspended in mid air
    by the divine Buonarotti; and then with increasing
    enthusiasm, made them recount, in strains of honourable
    emulation, the great events of which they had been the
    witnesses, the delight of the audience knew no bounds in the
    thundering repetitions of bravo!

    "Some of the pieces she composed with terminating words,
    suggested by acclamation from the audience as she proceeded;
    other pieces were so conceived as to introduce a particular
    word into every stanza, proposed by any voice at its
    commencement. It was a singular and interesting exhibition,
    in which a little feeble woman, during a whole evening,
    could afford the most refined entertainment to a crowded
    theatre. Such is the homage paid to mental superiority."

From Florence, Mr. Peale proceeded to Pisa, and thence along the plains
or alluvial grounds between the mountains and the Mediterranean, on the
road to Genoa. At Carrara, he visited and examined the studios and
work-shops, where the various works in the marble of the celebrated
quarries are made. This marble is obtained in the ravines of the
mountains, from two to five miles distant from the town. It is generally
taken from their base, but frequently great masses are tumbled from
situations many hundred feet high, to which the labourers are an hour in
ascending, and where they work with cords around them, to secure them
against the danger of falling. The whitest marble is found only in
occasional layers, some at the base of the mountain is most beautifully
so.

On entering Genoa, the streets through which Mr. Peale passed, though of
moderate width, presented the appearance of much magnificence, being
lined with the palaces of the king and nobles. In other parts he
remarked, however, but little of the splendour which would entitle it to
be called a city of palaces; the houses are in general plain and high,
and the passages of communication wide enough only for persons on foot.

From Genoa, Mr. Peale turned again to the east, and, crossing the
extremities of the Maritime Alps, passed through the broad and beautiful
plain which spreads far and wide on either bank of the Po. At Parma, he
visited the plain and simple palace where the Empress Maria Louisa
resides, and a beautiful new theatre contiguous to it lately built by
her; he saw also the more splendid palace once inhabited by Napoleon,
which is at the extremity of the city, surrounded by fine gardens, and
contains some good frescoes and fine old tapestry. The pictures which
crowd the churches, are not, however, in the best style, but the marbles
are frequently rich and well wrought.

Bologna presents the singular character of a city composed of streets,
lined, with a few exceptions, with arcades, many of which are of lofty
and elegant proportions, and the arches supported by stone pillars with
handsome bases and capitals, while others are of plastered brick. These
long ranges of columnated arcades, impart great elegance to the general
aspect of the place. The public square is ornamented by a magnificent
fountain, which ranks among the greatest works of John of Bologna. In
the gallery of the fine arts are some admirable pictures of Guido,
Domenichino, and the Caraccis; and the Pontifical University is attended
by a great number of students, while its halls are well filled by an
extensive library, and large collections relating to natural science.

From Bologna Mr. Peale proceeded through Ferrara to Venice. His
description of the entrance into that celebrated city of the sea, does
not offer the glowing picture which novelists and poets have delighted
to paint, but perhaps conveys a more correct idea of the reality.

    "Early the next morning we beheld the queen of the ocean, at
    the extremity of the lagune, stretching across, and almost
    united with the mole of fishermen's dwellings, called
    Palestrina. The steeples and domes were relieved by an
    extensive range of gray mountains, rising high in the
    distance, upon the tops of which the snow was bright with
    the rising sun. For many miles our boat was towed by another
    boat with oarsmen. At length we reached some old walls and
    ruinous houses, the outskirts of Venice, and passing these,
    opened into a magnificent harbour, resembling a great river,
    lined with good houses, and animated by a variety of
    shipping and boats in motion. Crossing this great harbour,
    we approached a point of land embellished by a beautiful
    edifice as the Porto Franco, and then opened into another
    great but less spacious canal. In front, the singular but
    beautiful palace of the doges, and the lesser palace of St.
    Mark were close by, with a fine terrace or wharf extending
    along the water's edge. As our boat pursued its way to the
    post-office, down the great serpentine canal or river, the
    magnificence of the palaces, and their peculiar style of
    architecture, rich in bold ornaments, balconies, and
    sculptures, excited us to frequent exclamations of
    admiration. What must have been their beauty when Venice was
    in her full glory, and these marble palaces were new or in
    bright repair? From many which were built of brick, the
    plastering was falling off, and others, with broken windows,
    were uninhabited: yet, as an evidence of renovation, since
    Venice has been made a free port, we passed a large new
    edifice, rising from an old foundation, and others
    undergoing repair.

    "The _Gondola_, about which so much is said and sung, is a
    ferry-boat, very much resembling an Indian canoe, floating
    lightly on the water, and rising pointed at each end, the
    front being ornamented with a large sharp-edged piece of
    iron, something like a battle-axe. In the centre are
    cushioned seats, with an arched covering of black cloth,
    where two grown persons and two children may conveniently
    sit, or, on an emergency, six grown persons may squeeze
    together, either with open door and side windows, or closed
    with glass or black Venetian blinds. The boatmen, without a
    rudder, and only one oar at his right side, stands on the
    little deck of his narrow stern, and bearing his weight on
    his oar, which seldom rises out of the water, not only urges
    the gondola straight onwards, but by dextrous movements,
    which are practised from infancy, turns it in all directions
    with surprising facility and accuracy.

    "Having reached the post-office, and assorted our baggage,
    we entered one of these gondolas, and returned to the Hotel
    de l'Europe, which we had passed on entering the port. I
    found that the use of one oar produced an unpleasant rocking
    of the boat, to which those are not subject who employ an
    additional boatman at the front of the canoe, whose oar,
    striking simultaneously with the other, at opposite sides,
    corrects the evil, and it affords the advantage of greater
    speed when long excursions are to be made. We landed on
    marble steps rising a few feet out of the water to a vast
    hall, in which the light gondola, when only for private use,
    may be deposited; first divested of its covered chamber,
    which two men lift off the seats and carry up.

    "It had begun to rain before we entered Venice, and a mist
    obscured the magnificent mountains which we had seen at
    sun-rise stretching beyond and extending far over the low
    lands of the adjoining continent. As it cleared up, however,
    the view from our elevated balcony, of splendid edifices
    stretching in various directions into the broad expanse of
    waters, was as delightful as it was novel."

Mr. Peale remained in Venice, only sufficiently long to make a rapid
survey of the works of art which it contains, especially the
masterpieces of Titian, Paul Veronese, and Tintoretto, which are found
in its palaces and churches. Though the necessity of passing generally
along the canals, and the narrowness of the streets which do traverse
the city to a much greater extent than is supposed, give a gloominess to
Venice, yet the place and arcades of St. Mark offer a gay scene not
often surpassed. The leisure and excitement of a Sunday afternoon
especially, make them lively with the fashion and curiosity of the city;
among which the gay modes of Paris are less to be admired than the fine
features and rich complexions of the descendants of those men and women,
who have served as models for the glowing pencils of the masters we have
named. In the evening, the crowd may he seen still to increase, enjoying
the soft mildness of the sea atmosphere, and basking in the blaze of the
patent lamplight which attracts them round the coffee-houses; whilst a
fine band of military music, stationed in the centre of the place, with
music-books and lamps, greatly increases the popular enjoyment at the
expense of the government. The grand canal, in length two miles,
presents on each side a great number of elegant palaces, intermingled
with some ordinary buildings, all in a degree blackened and injured by
age and neglect. Some of the palaces of the ancient noble families are
in a grand style of architecture, enriched with a profusion of bold
sculpture, according to the taste of the times, and the peculiar
propensity of the Venitians to this exuberance of decoration.

From Venice Mr. Peale again turned across the peninsula. Passing through
Padua, Vicenza, and Verona, he reached Milan, where he visited the
celebrated works of art, which however do not seem to be numerous.
There, however, he took leave of the arts of Italy, and bent his way
towards the Alps. Near the village of Arona, he saw and inspected the
colossal statue of San Carlo Borromeo, which he thus describes.

    "It is made of sheet copper, and stands on a pedestal about
    forty feet high; and judging by a ladder which was placed at
    one side, and the proportions of the persons who ascended
    it, I computed the height of the statue to be about seventy
    feet. This agrees with the statement of my companions, who
    ascended under the skirt of his tunic, and climbed the iron
    bars which united the circumference of the bishop's garment
    with the brick core that rises through it. The head, they
    agree, is about eight or nine feet in height, so that only a
    boy or a very small man can stand in the nose. Yet it is not
    only a very stupendous, but I think it rather an elegant
    statue. My companions were amused with the singular
    animation which they found in the head of the saint, the
    dark asylum of a vast number of bats, which darted past them
    to escape out of a trap-door in the neck."

Crossing the Alps by the route of the Simplon, Mr. Peale reached Geneva,
on the 29th of May, and after a short stay, set off for Paris. The dirt
and incommodiousness of most of the Italian cities, gave increased
enjoyment to his return to the noble quays of Paris, the Boulevards, and
the gardens of the Luxembourg, Tuileries, and Palais Royal. After the
course, too, which he had made through Italy, it became an object of no
little interest to examine the treasures of the Louvre. He acknowledges
that the specimens of the Italian painters there preserved, sunk a
little in his estimation as he compared them with the best works in the
galleries he had visited; but at the same time, he derived increased
pleasure from many of the productions of what may be termed the old
French school--especially from those of Poussin, Vernet, and Subleyras.

From Paris, he crossed the channel to England. He was astonished at the
great improvements of late years in London, especially in the vast
amount of buildings and ornamented squares, erected in the place of
green fields, and the improvements effected in opening and widening many
streets. _Regent street_, lined with splendid shops and dwellings like
palaces, including its circular sweep of fluted cast-iron columns, and
connecting St. James's park with the Regent's park, encircled with
splendid mansions, he thought perhaps unequalled by any thing of the
kind he had seen. Among the artists, he found our countrymen, Leslie and
Newton, holding a distinguished rank, and he bears especial testimony,
not only to the genius and reputation, but to the urbanity and moral
worth of the former.

From London he proceeded to Portsmouth, and embarking there, reached
America after an absence of nearly two years, on the last of September,
1830.

We have already remarked, that in this volume a reader is not to look
for those reflections, either on ancient or modern Italy, which are to
be found in the pages of scholars and travellers, who have visited it to
revive the memory of former studies, or to gratify emotions which are
excited by the contemplation of the fading relics of the grandeur of
Rome. Yet, we collect among the notices of Mr. Peale, many remarks which
occurred to him in the necessary attention he paid to the antiquities
that abounded on his route, from one part of the country to another; and
while he was exploring, with the curious zeal for which he is
distinguished, all parts of the various cities and towns in which he
stayed. Of these his narrative is perfectly simple. He enters into no
antiquarian discussions; he quotes no passages of familiar poets and
historians; he feels no peculiar glow from standing upon spots, or
gazing upon scenes, which would have filled to overflowing a heart
imbued with the remembrance of Virgil and of Livy. He paused in the
midst of the Forum, but not for him

    "Did the still eloquent air breathe--burn with Cicero."

He wandered among the heights of Tivoli, but though the "præceps Anio"
and the "domus Albuneæ resonantis" were still there, they seem not to
have excited one thought of him, who not only preferred them to the
favoured cities of Juno and Minerva, but gave them as lasting a fame.
This is not in our opinion an objection to the volume of Mr. Peale; the
task of classical illustration has been well performed in the travels of
Eustace, whose book, censured as it may be, will ever be a favourite
with scholars; and it has been yet more brilliantly performed by the
wonderful genius of that man, who has given new fame in his immortal
poem to spots already consecrated by the noblest and sweetest
inspirations of the muse. As to most travellers, indeed, we had
infinitely rather that all classical allusion was omitted, than have
inflicted upon us the long string of hackneyed quotations, and the vapid
recollections of schoolboy studies, which go for the most part to make
up such portions of their journals. What we find here on the subject of
antiquities, is just what we might expect from an inquisitive man of
taste, making no pretensions to extraordinary research or information.
When at Naples, Mr. Peale of course visited the buried towns of
Herculaneum and Pompeii, and has described them with much minuteness, so
as convey a very distinct impression of their present state.

    "The first house which was shown to us was the _Villa of
    Diomedes_, of considerable extent, comprising a variety of
    apartments and gardens. We descended into his wine cellar,
    where there still remain some of the jars that contained his
    wine. In this spacious cellar seventeen skeletons were
    found, probably persons of his family who had sought this
    place for safety. They were smothered and entombed, with all
    their ornaments of gold upon them, by the flood of hot water
    and ashes, which had evidently flowed in through the little
    windows where light had been admitted, and where the traces
    of the fluid may still be seen.

    "The houses were generally of only one story, though, in a
    few instances, we found a small stair-way leading to some
    upper apartments. They consist of a great many small rooms
    surrounding a court-yard, with a kind of piazza all around,
    as a protection against the sun and rain. In two private
    court-yards we were shown gaily decorated fountains, in
    alcoves or niches, curiously and elaborately ornamented with
    mosaic and shellwork, the shells being in perfect
    preservation.

    "We looked into many shops, the counters of which were
    incrusted with bits of marble, of various colours, fitted
    around the narrow mouths of large earthen jars, which were
    imbedded in solid brick work, to hold oil and wine.
    Sometimes there were little shelves, like steps, covered
    with marble, upon which small articles were displayed close
    to the window.

    "The basilica, or great hall of justice, was an oblong hall
    of great size, surrounded inside with noble columns, which,
    from their size, must have supported a lofty roof. At the
    farther end was an elevated throne, on which the judges sat;
    and beneath it a chamber, where three skeletons of men were
    found, fastened by their legs to iron stocks. From the
    public promenade we entered the tragic and the comic
    theatres; walked over the stone scats, now moss-stained;
    looked on the shallow stage, which allowed no scenic effect;
    stood in the prompter's central niche, and read the names of
    the managers, recorded in mosaic letters on the pavement in
    front of the orchestra; but its best sculptural decorations
    had been removed to the museum."

In the museum at Naples are preserved all the articles taken from the
houses at Herculaneum and Pompeii, and they offer specimens of almost
every thing that, even at the present day, domestic establishments seem
to require. The visiter may here behold the charcoal form of a loaf of
bread impressed with the baker's name; a plate of eggs, or rather egg
shells, some of which are not broken, retaining their natural whiteness;
thread nets for boiling vegetables; figs, prunes, dates, olives, and
nuts of various kinds; the golden ornaments of the ladies; vases of
glass of various colours; utensils of the clearest crystal; bronze
candelabra of singular and beautiful forms; and all the apparatus of a
household, exhibiting taste, convenience and luxury. Here, too, are seen
the fresco paintings taken from Pompeii. Those first discovered,
happening to be found in a part of the city inhabited by tradesmen, did
not furnish the most elegant specimens of the arts. The judgments which
were consequently propagated from one antiquarian critic to another,
were unfavourable to the ancient painters, who were pronounced inferior
to contemporary sculptors, and ignorant of grouping, foreshortening, and
perspective. Subsequent excavations have been made in a portion of the
city where splendid temples, halls of justice, theatres, and spacious
dwellings, gave occasion for the best employment of the arts. The result
has been the discovery not only of statues and sculpture far superior to
that formerly developed, but of fresco paintings of great excellence and
beauty. Very different from those previously collected, they decisively
indicate a high state of painting, as it must have been practised in
Greece and Italy at the time the statues were executed, which yet
exhibit such perfect knowledge of the human form, and of the principles
of grouping. They prove that the ancient painters were perfectly
acquainted with the rules of perspective and foreshortening. Indeed, we
may fairly believe, from these beautiful works, done on walls, and
probably by inferior artists, that on other occasions, as in moveable
pictures, their best artists must have painted in a manner to correspond
with the high rank of their sculpture, and the extraordinary accounts
given of them by contemporary writers.

    "These specimens of ancient fresco painting have been cut
    out of the walls, where they were executed, with great care,
    and transported here in strong cases, which serve as frames.
    When first found, they are pale and dull; but, on being
    varnished, their colours are brightened up to their pristine
    hues, and exhibit to the astonished eye every stroke of the
    brush, slightly indenting the fresh mortar, which was given
    by hands that perished, with the genius that directed them,
    nearly eighteen hundred years ago, yet appearing as the rich
    and mellow pencilling of yesterday. Most of them are taken
    from shops and ordinary houses, and represent all kinds of
    objects, drawn with remarkable spirit and truth. Many of the
    better kind served to decorate apartments in which there
    were no windows, where they must have been executed, and
    afterwards seen only by lamplight. But the best were found
    in the porticos of open court yards, or on the walls of
    dining-rooms or saloons. In looking closely into these, I
    was surprised to find such spirited execution and knowledge
    of anatomy, combined with the most exquisite beauty,
    perfection of drawing, colouring and expression of
    character."

It is, however, to the works of modern art that Mr. Peale has turned his
principal attention. Travelling himself as an artist; seeking for the
subjects of his own studies, the masterpieces wherever found; exercising
a criticism, not as the picture-dealer who sees in every dingy canvass
which bears, truly or falsely, the name of some celebrated master, the
marks of pre-eminent genius, regardless of the time or circumstances
under which it was executed--nor as the connoisseur or virtuoso, who has
to maintain or to gain reputation by the singularity, the rashness, or
the accidental correctness of his opinions; but viewing them at once
with the devotion of an artist who had long heard of and known the works
he was now to see, as the various efforts of genius, sometimes
successful, but sometimes also less happy, and having no end to gain but
the improvement of his own style, and the gratification of his own
taste, Mr. Peale must be allowed the credit of candour, and entire
freedom from affectation in the judgments he has passed. At the same
time we should not omit to notice the variety, extent, and minuteness of
his examinations. No church, gallery, or collection, was passed by, and
most of the individual pictures are separately and carefully noticed. At
Rome, especially, he admired and copied many of the works of her
immortal artists, and in the loggie of the Vatican he gazed on their
matchless productions with the enthusiasm of a painter, but without
yielding up his senses to the praise of tablets, famous only in name,
and disfigured by smoke, damp, and age. The walls of the celebrated
Sistine chapel were painted by various artists of merit in their time,
but they are now much injured, and offer little worthy of notice; but
the ceiling, designed and executed by Michael Angelo, is eminently
worthy of admiration, as exhibiting the best productions of his pencil,
and as among the few paintings of that great genius not yet destroyed by
smoke, and giving evidence of the grandeur of his invention and the
boldness of his execution. The _Last Judgment_, so familiar in name to
every one who reads the history of art, now excites no attention except
from its former celebrity, as it is dimly traced in the dark, through
stains of damp and mould, and blackened by smoke. Of his great rival,
and in some respects superior, the fate is scarcely different, whilst
some of the smaller works of Raphael are tolerably preserved, the
celebrated frescoes in the Pauline chapel are so much injured by time
and smoke, and the lances of soldiers who have occupied the rooms as
barracks, that they excite but little pleasure at first sight. Artists,
however, of all nations may be seen continually copying them, some
mounted on scaffolding up to the ceiling, some drawing, others painting,
and all seeking out with almost idolatrous or rather superstitious
admiration, the beauty of every head, hand, limb, and fold of drapery.
They obtain permission to copy, without difficulty from the Pope's
secretary, when the places are not occupied, or whenever a vacancy may
occur; but so numerous are the applications for some celebrated
pictures, such as the _Transfiguration_, that they are frequently
engaged for years in advance by artists of various nations.

It is, indeed, by foreigners chiefly, that the galleries of Italy are
filled. The praise of superiority is no longer due to the painters of
the peninsula, and amidst the precious models which they have around
them, few have, of late years, maintained or restored the departing
glory of their country. Fresco painting, so admirably calculated to call
forth and give display to grand and spirited invention, as well as to
promote careful and beautiful drawing, by the elaborate cartoons which
it requires, has almost ceased to exist as a branch of works of design.
Mosaic is still cultivated with considerable success, but it is seldom
applied to original works. We may rejoice, however, that this happy art
will preserve to future and distant ages, accurate copies of those great
productions which have faded, and are still quickly fading, beneath the
touch of time.

In the Vatican, there are apartments especially assigned to workers in
mosaic, and placed under the directions of the historical painter,
Camucini, who is zealous in endeavouring, by means of this curious art,
and the great skill of those artists who at present execute it, to
preserve the best paintings of the great masters, now imperfectly seen
in several churches, and in danger of perishing. In these rooms may be
found various workmen, some copying small pictures, for the purpose of
learning and practising the art; and others, who are more experienced,
occupied with larger works for the churches. In a great hall is a store,
arranged on shelves, of the semi-vitreous porcelain, or coarse enamel,
in cakes half an inch thick and several inches in diameter. These cakes
are of every colour that may be required, all arranged, numbered,
registered, and weighed out by an accountant to the workmen as they are
wanted to be afterwards broken into bits. Some of the cakes consist of
two or more colours, gradually blending into each other; and there are
said to be no less than sixteen thousand assorted tints. The large
pictures are wrought by being placed nearly erect, with the one to be
copied, so that the effect may be compared from time to time; when not
more than three or four feet long, they are done on sheets of copper,
stiffened with strong iron bars within a rim of metal; but those of a
greater size, especially such as are intended for permanent fixture in
churches, are executed each on one great slab of stone, from eight to
twelve inches thick, which is excavated about an inch deep, leaving a
raised border all round. The irregular surface is then nearly filled up
with a level mass of cement. On this, when dry, the artist carefully
traces the contours of his picture; he then procures from the adjoining
magazine an assortment of tints to suit the part he purposes working at;
and is furnished with a little table, on which is fixed a chisel, with
the edge upwards, in the manner of an anvil, on which, with a hammer, he
breaks the semi-vitreous composition into small squares or other shapes,
to suit the part to be copied. Along side of this is another table,
furnished with a horizontal grindstone on a vertical shaft, made to
revolve rapidly by a cord which passes round a larger wheel, turned by a
pin at its periphery. This is moved with the left hand, while the right
is employed in fashioning the bits of stone into squares, triangles,
circles, crescents, &c. of various dimensions. The artist then chisels
out of his composition, within the lines of his drawing, any spot he
chooses to fill up with his mosaic; which, being inserted, stone by
stone, with fresh cement, enables him either to pursue the continuity of
an outline, or the masses and directions of similar tints; so that he
can work at any spot, and fill up the intervals, or take out any portion
of what he has done, and do it over again. The stones are from half an
inch to three quarters in depth, and in breadth, of all sizes, from an
eighth to half an inch in diameter. After the picture is finished, and
the surface of the stones ground down to a level, and perfectly
polished, the white cement is carefully scraped out of the interstices
to a little depth. A variety of painters' colours, in fine powder, are
then each mixed with a small portion of melted wax, and put on a
palette. With these, by means of a hot pointed iron, like a tinman's
soldering-iron, the artist melts a little of the coloured wax to match
the stones, and runs it from the point of his iron into all the
crevices--then scrapes off the superfluous wax, and cleans the surface
with spirits of turpentine.

In an art kindred to painting, but perhaps more impressive on the
imagination and the senses, that of statuary, the Italians of the
present age may bear a more honourable comparison with their
predecessors. It is true, they cannot aspire to that wonderful
excellence, which we are able to appreciate in the few fragments that
have descended to us from the great sculptors of ancient times; but,
still, the works of Canova, Thorwaldsen, and others, may be added to
those of Michael Angelo and John of Bologna, and given as evidence of
great powers of invention and a profitable study of the ancient remains.
Thorwaldsen, who, since the death of his great rival, Canova, holds the
first place as a sculptor at Rome, and whose taste and skill are known
in America by a graceful statue of Venus, executed for and in the
possession of a gentleman of Philadelphia, is remarkable for his careful
cultivation of the antique taste, and the extreme simplicity of his
statues. To become an artist, he studied at Rome, with singular
assiduity, although contending with the most distressing poverty, till
the age of thirty. His practice at the academy was to draw from the life
only those parts of the figure which chanced to please him. He modelled
in clay numerous spirited compositions, which he was obliged to destroy
for want of the funds necessary to put them into marble or even plaster
of Paris: and it was owing to the taste, judgment, and liberality of an
English gentleman, that he was at last enabled to execute his first work
in stone. In his workshop, Mr. Peale was shown a basso relieve to the
memory of his patron, who is represented supplying the lamp of genius
with oil.

Statuary, however, at the present day, appears to be an art altogether
different in its mechanical and practical details from that of former
times. The genius of Michael Angelo was frequently fatigued before he
could approach in his blocks of marble, the forms his imagination
conceived, and he often hastened to chisel out a part as a guide in the
development of the whole figure, which was sometimes spoiled by his
impatience. Now, however, a sculptor is scarcely required to touch his
marble, or even to know how to cut it. He first models the figure in
ductile clay, which is kept moist by wet cloths, during any length of
time, so that he may give it the utmost perfection of form. This model
he places in the hands of a careful mechanic, whose art is to make a
mould upon it, and to produce a facsimile in plaster of Paris, the
colour of which enables him more readily to judge of its effect, and to
add to its beauty. When the model is thus perfected, the artist may
either copy it himself in stone, or employ workmen who generally do
nothing else all their lives, and who proceed without any of the
inventive enthusiasm of genius, but with wonderful mechanical accuracy.
The model is marked all over with numerous spots, which are transferred
by the compasses to the block of marble; two well defined points may
serve as a base for fixing the position of a third, and the workman
continually measures as he advances to the completion; and in this he is
expert or excellent, in proportion to the attention he has paid to his
studies in drawing, modelling, and anatomy. The accuracy with which
these workmen copy the model, is such as to induce the ablest sculptors
to trust to them their choicest works. Many of the most skilful reside
at Carrara; and, to save the expense of transporting large masses of
marble, it is becoming very customary to transmit thither the model very
carefully packed up, and to have it either accurately copied there, or
roughed out for the sculptor to complete. Thorwaldsen, whose models are
seldom remarkable for the delicacy of the finish, is so well satisfied
with the general accuracy of the work done at Carrara, that statues
which he is making for his native country, will be boxed up there and
sent to Denmark, without being once seen by him.

As a school of art, Mr. Peale seems to consider the great advantages of
Italy, as arising less from her academies, or from any direct facilities
which are there offered to the student, than from the treasures of
ancient sculpture, and the sublime works executed by the greatest
masters, which offer admirable models, and serve to infuse a kindred
spirit. In regard to the peculiar excellence exhibited in these, he
admits that nothing has more puzzled the professors and critics of art.
He thinks that, although much must have depended upon the capacity of
the artist, and his means of information, and a great deal on the nature
of his employment and encouragement, yet that almost as much advantage
has been derived from accidental circumstances. The Italians, who enjoy
a clear sky, and witness in their sunsets the most glowing colours, are
surprised that the Hollanders, living in an atmosphere of gray mist,
should have produced so many excellent colourists. It may be from that
very circumstance that they were so. A vapoury atmosphere which reduces
all colours at a distance to one hue of gray, serves, at the same time,
to render every colour which is near, not only more distinct, but more
agreeably illuminated; but, under a blue sky, the shadows are
necessarily tinged with blue, and the eye becoming accustomed to vivid
colours, too easily rests satisfied with the most violent contrasts,
both in nature and the works of art. The atmosphere of England, in like
manner, has contributed to produce a good taste in colouring, which was
confirmed by the example and authority of Reynolds, who so well
understood the principles of the Flemish masters. Giorgione, Titian, and
Paul Veronese, were, it is true, Italians, and rank at the head of good
colourists; but the situation of Venice, built in the water, essentially
softens its atmosphere, and combines the advantages of Holland and
Italy. The happy genius of Corregio derived his theory of light and
colour certainly not from his visit to Rome.

Accidental circumstances have probably influenced several distinguished
artists. Vandyck happened to learn the use of a certain brown colour
from Germany, called Terra de Cassel, by which he softened and
harmonized his shadows; hence the English artists call it Vandyck brown.
Holland, enjoying the commerce of the East Indies, which furnished her
with a variety of pigments, likewise produced from her own soil the best
quality of madder, from which her chemists and manufacturers procured
the richest and most durable dyes. Van Huysum, and other painters of
that country, must have learned the use of this and other rich pigments,
the knowledge of which they could not entirely keep to themselves, but
which were probably known to Andrea del Sarto and the good colourists of
Florence. It is not improbable that the fashion of wearing changeable
silks, reflecting opposite colours in different angles, may have
influenced the old painters to represent their blue draperies with red
shadows and yellow lights, as in Raphael's picture of the
_Transfiguration_: certain it is that such things being found in the
master works of the great painters, which are copied with the most
scrupulous exactness, even to the most palpable fault, the painters of
the present day in Italy pursue the same system of colouring, with as
much pertinacity as they display in their hard-earned accuracy of
outline.

Besides, the revival of the art in Italy was by fresco painting, the
peculiar nature of which required that the artist should first prepare
his compositions in finished cartoons. At all events, it was the
practice of painters, derived from each other, and passing from
generation to generation, to bestow their chief study on a cartoon
executed in black and white chalk of the full size of the intended
fresco. Many of these are preserved in the galleries and churches of
Italy, and are to be considered among the most precious relics of the
art; displaying the finest skill of the master, in composition, drawing,
light and shade, and execution. Of these original and spirited drawings,
what are called the original pictures are but copies in colour,
sometimes executed by the master himself, but more frequently by some of
his pupils.

When oil painting was introduced into Italy, and adopted by those who
had practised in fresco, the habits which they had acquired led them to
practise the methods with which they were most familiar. Their oil
paintings were therefore generally painted from drawings, and, hence,
the colouring was often from imagination or recollection, which
sufficiently accounts for its deviation from nature; although it is
frequently spread out with great beauty and airiness. Those painters
who, it is agreed, excelled in colouring, almost always painted their
studies in colours, by which they had a double chance of success,
without vitiating their own powers of vision by the continual
contemplation of highly wrought colourless forms, or transcripts in
fanciful hues.

We had desired, after these observations on the subject of the arts,
which it must be confessed form the topic of chief interest in perusing
the volume of Mr. Peale, to add some remarks on the political and moral
character of the Italians, as it appears in the unaffected and
occasional observations which occur in regard to the people themselves
and their institutions. There is in general a freedom from prejudice; a
temperateness of expression; a mildness of judgment, and a clear and
natural manner of relation, which do great credit to the author, and
while they assist a reader in forming an opinion of his own, give
strength to that expressed by the writer himself. Our limits, however,
do not permit us to do so, and after the expression of this general
opinion, we must refer to the volume itself for the evidence of its
correctness. In concluding, we may respond to the sentiment of Mr.
Peale, when on leaving Milan, he bade farewell to the arts of Italy.

    "An Italian, not exempted from bigotry, discovered a new
    world for the emancipation of man. May America in
    patronizing the arts, receive them as the offspring of
    enlightened Greece, transmitted through Italy, where their
    miraculous powers were nourished in the bondage of mind. Let
    them in turn be emancipated, and their persuasive and
    fascinating language be exalted to the noblest purposes, and
    be made instrumental to social happiness and national
    glory!"




  INDEX.


    A.

  _Achilles_,
    illustration of the effects of ennui in, 38.

  _Acosta_,
    commendation of tobacco, by, 149.

  _Address_ of Convention of Teachers and Friends of Education at Utica,
  &c.,
    notice of, 283.

  _Alibert_, J. L.,
    his Physiology of the Passions, &c., chap. XI. Ennui, reviewed, 33,
     &c. See _Ennui_.

  _Aristotle_,
    a prey to Ennui, 43.

  _Augustus II._ and _III._, Kings of Poland,
    reigns of, 469.

  _Auto-biography of Thieves_, 116, &c.
    tests of truth in marvellous narratives, 117, 118
    first commitment to prison of James Hardy Vaux, Thomas Ward, and
     Vidocq, with the effect of placing young prisoners with old convicts,
     119, 120
    Vaux's account of a prison-ship, 121
    necessity of solitary confinement, _ib._
    evils from the slow operation of the law, 122
    Ward's account of his first act of dishonesty, 123
    his escape after horse stealing, 124
    adventure of Vaux with Mr. Bilger, a jeweller, 126-128
    robbery by Beaumont of the police of Paris, 128, 129
    criminals the best police officers, 129
    circumstances that led Vidocq to become a police officer, 130
    his first capture, 131
    arrest of a receiver of stolen property, 132
    hazard police officers run, exhibited in the arrest of Fossard by
     Vidocq, 132, 133.


    B.

  _Bacon_, Lord,
    commendation of tobacco, by, 149.

  _Balboa_, Vasco Nuñez de,
    his adventures in South America, 176-183
    his execution, 184.

  _Baltimore_, Lord,
    his grant of Maryland, &c., 483, &c. See _Maryland_.

  _Bank of the United States_,
    report of the Committee of Ways and Means on, and the President's
     Message in relation to, 246, &c.
    President Jackson's course in relation to, 247, 248
    propositions involved in his Message examined, 249, &c.
    on the constitutionality of, 249-258
    whether the influence it exercises is dangerous, 258-261
    whether it creates discontent with the people, and collision with the
     states, 261-266
    whether the proposed bank is free from these objections, 266-282.

  _Bastides_, Rodrigo de,
    his voyage to America, 169.

  _Bates_, Professor,
    in the New-York Convention for founding a University, 285-287.

  _Beaumont_, M. E. de,
    his researches on the geological age of mountains, 109-112.

  _Beaumont_, Elie de, and M. Dufrenoy,
    their Voyage Metallurgique en Angleterre, notice of, 352. See _Iron_.

  _Bible_, the,
    oration on the advantages of, as a school-book, &c., by Thomas S.
     Grimké, notice of, 283.

  _Bolingbroke_, Lord,
    character of, 49, 50.

  _Bollman_, Dr. Erick,
    his arrest by General Wilkinson for a participation in Burr's plot,
     216.

  _Boré_, Etienne,
    his cultivation of the sugar cane, 198.

  _Bruce_,
    the traveller, a prey to ennui at the fountain head of the Nile, 38.

  _Brun_, Malte,
    his Universal Geography, 82, &c.
    his arrangement of mountains into connected systems, 90.

  _Bonaparte_, N.,
    remarkable instance of ennui in, 48.

  _Burke_, Edmund,
    notice of, 323-326.

  _Burr_, Aaron,
    proceedings at New-Orleans in relation to his plot, 216-218.

  _Byron_, Lord,
    his description of ennui, 34.


    C.

  _Calvert_, Cecilius,
    his part in the settlement of Maryland, 490.

  _Calvert_, Leonard,
    colony of Maryland established by, 490.

  _Carondelet_, Baron de,
    his miscalculations respecting the western people of the United
     States, 211.

  _Casimir_ the Great, King of Poland,
    events in the reign of, 461, &c. See _Poland_.

  _Casimir_, John,
    his resignation of the Polish crown, 467.

  _Catacombs_ of Santa Maria della Vita, 515.

  _Catechism of Education_, by William Lyon Mackenzie,
    notice of, 283.

  _Catharine_ of Russia,
    her part in the dismemberment of Poland, 476, &c.

  _Chamberet_, M.,
    his opinion of the use of tobacco, 152.

  _Champollion_, Jr. M.,
    his System of Egyptian Hieroglyphics, by J. G. H. Greppo, translated
     by Isaac Stuart, reviewed, 339, &c. See _Hieroglyphic System_.

  _China_,
    residence in, &c., 52. See _Dobell_, Peter, his Travels.

  _Cibber_, Colley,
    epigram on, by Pope, and by self, 127, note.

  _Clarke_, Dr. Adam,
    a dissertation on the use and abuse of tobacco, by, 136, &c.
    anecdote of, 155.

  _Clayborne_, William,
    his disturbances in the early settlement of Maryland, 486
    Clayborne and Ingle's rebellion, 491.

  _College-Instruction_ and Discipline, 283, &c.
    education must be suited to the country, 284
    universities in France, Italy, Great Britain, Germany, Russia, and
     the United States, _ib._
    proceedings of a Convention of literary and scientific gentlemen at
     New-York, 285, &c.
    organization of Harvard and other colleges, 287
    appointment of professors, _ib._
    Mr. Sparks on this subject, 288
    their remuneration, 289, 290
    Dr. Leiber's opinion, 290
    powers of the president, 291
    University of Virginia, 292
    salutary rules the best safeguards of universities, 293
    existing and proposed modes of punishment, 294-296
    should one university refuse admission to students dismissed from
     another? 297
    gaming and drinking, 298
    regulations in regard to students' funds, 299, 300
    uniform dress, &c., 301
    practical instruction, 301, 302,
    age of admission, and period and plan of study, 303-306
    ought students to be confined to their classes, or allowed to receive
     degrees when found prepared on examination? 306
    should the title Bachelor of Arts be retained? 307
    study of languages and mathematics, 307, 308
    mode of conveying instruction, 309, 313
    necessity of a department of English language, 313.

  _Columbus_, C.,
    Voyages and Discoveries of the Companions of, 163. See _Irving_,
     Washington.

  _Cosa_, Juan de la,
    his participation in the discoveries of South America, 166, &c.

  _Croly_, Rev. George, A. M.,
    his Life of George the Fourth, reviewed, 314, &c. See _George IV._

  _Cullen_, Dr.,
    his opinion on the use of tobacco, 153.

  _Culman_, F. I.,
    his translation of Karsten's Manuel de la Metallurgie de fer, notice
     of, 352, &c. See _Iron_.


    D.

  _Davila_, Pedro Arias,
    his execution of Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, whom he superseded, 184.

  _Dobell_, Peter,
    his Travels in Kamtchatka and Siberia, with a narrative of a residence
     in China, reviewed, 52, &c.
    his facilities for acquiring information, 52
    venality of the Chinese, 53
    opium smuggling, 54
    robbery of the government, 54, 55
    pirates, and fate of their leader Apo-Tsy, 55
    salt trade, _ib._
    unblushing venality of the mandarins, 56, 57
    population of China overrated, 57
    productions of the climate, tea, 58, 59
    mechanic arts, 59
    character, mode of living, temperature, fops, amusements, 60, 61
    dinners of ceremony, 62
    religion, 62, 63
    Mr. Dobell's arrival at St. Peter's and St. Paul's, 63
    bay of Avatcha, and embankments on the river, _ib._
    the Kamtchatdales poor but hospitable, 64
    their dwellings, 65
    hospitable reception at the cottage of Toyune of Sherrom, 66
    volcano of Klootchefsky, _ib._
    town of Nijna Kamtchatsk, _ib._
    winter store of a Kamtchadale family, 67
    perilous adventure of the Toyune of Malka, _ib._
    sagacity, perseverance, and swiftness, of the Kamtchatdale dogs, 69
    in the country of the Tongusees, the author deserted by the native
     guides, and his dangerous adventures, 70-72
    town of Ochotsk, 72, 73
    journey thence to Yakutsk, 73
    dress and appearance of the Yakuts and Tongusees, 74
    water communications of Siberia, _ib._
    colony of banished persons on the banks of the river Aldan, 75
    the Yakuts a pastoral people, 76
    arrival at Yakutsk, _ib._
    Siberian wedding, 77
    town of Olekma, 78
    Irkutsk the capital of eastern Siberia, 79
    journey thence to St. Petersburg, 80, &c.
    disinterestedness of the Siberians, _ib._
    Tomsk, _ib._
    Tobolsk, 81.

  _Dufrenoy_, MM. and Elie de Beaumont,
    their Voyage Metallurgique en Angleterre, notice of, 352, &c. See
     _Iron_.

  _Dyspepsia_, Method of Curing, by O. Halsted,
    reviewed, 233-246.


    E.

  _Egyptian Hieroglyphics_. See _Hieroglyphic System_, 339, &c.

  _Encisor_, Martin Fernandez de,
    his participation in the early adventures in South America, 171, &c.

  _Ennui_,
    J. L. Alibert's chapter on, in his Physiology of the Passions,
     reviewed, 33, &c.
    character of the work, _ib._
    Lord Byron's description of ennui, 34
    literature of the day transient, with a feverish excitement for
     novelty, 34, 35
    nature of ennui, 36
    Solomon's delineation of it, 37
    illustration in Achilles, 38
    in Bruce the traveller, 38
    in Vergniaud, _ib._
    ennui conjured up the ghost of Cæsar to Brutus on the eve of the
     battle of Phillippi, 39
    its extensive influence, 40
    its operation to be traced in the sanguinary amusements of ancient
     Rome, 41
    its power over Jean Jacques Rousseau, 42
    exemplified in Spinoza, 43
    Aristotle, _ib._
    King Saul, 45
    causes the slander of the gossips, _ib._
    influence on fashion, 46
    in the haunts of business, _ib._
    peoples the mad house, and inhabits jails, _ib._
    Pyrrhus an ennuyé, 47
    Napoleon, 48
    Leibnitz, _ib._
    Lord Bolingbroke, 49, 50
    cure for it, 51.

  _Erskine_, Lord,
    notice of, 324, 325.

  _Europe and America_, &c.,
    translated from the German of Dr. C. F. Von Schmidt-Phiseldek, by
     Joseph Owen, reviewed, 398, &c.
    features which distinguish the American from other revolutions, 399
    representations made to England in 1635 of disloyalty in
     Massachusetts, 400
    deductions from the North American revolution in regard to the south,
     401
    the old governments of Europe, 401-403
    effects of the American revolution upon Europe, 404, 405
    discontents now agitating Europe, 406-408
    causes that will produce emigration to America, 408, 409
    Europe cannot do without America, 409, 410
    in seeking new markets for her surplus manufactures, North America
     will be an enterprising rival, 411
    the old world destined to receive its impulses in future from the
     new, 412
    consideration of events which have occurred in Europe since Von
     Schmidt-Phiseldek's work was published, 413, &c.
    situation of France, 415
    England, 415, 416
    Holland, Belgium, Italy, Germany, Russia, and Prussia, 417
    South American states, 418.


    F.

  _Fendall_, Josias,
    trouble to the colony of Maryland from, 492, 493.

  _Fowler_, Dr.,
    his opinion of the medicinal virtue of tobacco, 153.

  _Fox_, Charles,
    notice of, 322, 325.

  _France_ in 1829-30, by Lady Morgan,
    reviewed. See _Morgan_, Lady, 1, &c.

  _Francis_, Sir Philip,
    his claim to the authorship of Junius, 325.

  _Franklin_, Dr.,
    anecdote of, 163.


    G.

  _Gallatin_, Albert,
    in the Convention at New-York, to form a University, 285-305.

  _George IV._, Life of, &c., by the Rev. George Croly, A. M.,
    reviewed, 314, &c.
    marriage to Sophia Caroline, 315
    character of George III., 316
    private education of the Prince of Wales, 317
    income allowed him, _ib._
    attempts to palliate his vices, 318-320
    his debts and expenditures, 321
    Pitt, Fox, and Sheridan, 322-324
    Burke and Sheridan, 324, 325
    investigation of the authorship of Junius, Sir Philip Francis, Edmund
     Burke, Horne Tooke, Wilkes, Lord George Germaine, Dunning, Gerard
     Hamilton, &c., 325-327
    jeux d'esprit of the Prince, 328
    his marriage, Mrs. Fitzherbert, 329
    ascends the throne as regent, 330
    his last sickness and death, 330, 331
    description of an election for members of Parliament, 332-334
    how republicans can usefully study the characters of kings and
     legitimate nobility, 335-338.

  _George III._,
    character of, 316.

  _Germaine_, Lord George,
    his claim to the authorship of Junius, 326.

  _Greppo_, J. G. H., Vicar General of Belley,
    his Essay on the Hieroglyphic System of M. Champollion, Jr.,
     reviewed, 339, &c. See _Hieroglyphic System_.

  _Grimké_, Thomas S.,
    his oration before the Connecticut Alpha of the Phi Beta Kappa Society,
     notice of, 283-302.

  _Guerra_, Christoval,
    his adventure to South America, 168.


    H.

  _Hall_, Judge Dominick A.,
    his arrest and imprisonment by General Jackson, 226-232.

  _Halsted_, O.,
    his Method of curing Dyspepsia, reviewed, 233-246.

  _Hamilton_, Gerard,
    his claim to the authorship of Junius, 326.

  _Hayne_, General,
    his attack in Congress on the New-England States, and the discussion
     that ensued, 448-455.

  _Hearne_,
    (the traveller) his commendation of tobacco, 153.

  _Herculaneum_ and Pompeii,
    ruins of, 525-527.

  _Hieroglyphic System_ of Champollion, Jun.,
    Essay on, by J. G. H. Greppo, translated by Isaac Stuart, reviewed,
     339, &c.
    cause of Champollion's researches, 340
    clew afforded by the Rosetta stone, confirmed by a monument found in
     the island of Philæ, 341, 342
    signs common to both, 342, 343
    advantages of his discoveries in the prosecution of sacred criticism,
     344
    plan of the author's essay, _ib._
    did Pharaoh perish in the Red Sea? contrary opinions of the author
     and Professor Stuart on, 345, 346
    city of Ramses, where situated? 347
    a manuscript 200 years older than the Pentateuch, 349
    reason for the silence of the Scripture in regard to Sesostris, _ib._
    concluding remarks of the author, 350.

  _Hood_, Zachariah,
    the distributer of royal stamps, in Annapolis, case of, 507, 508.

  _Howell_, (author of Familiar Letters),
    his commendation of tobacco, 149.


    I.

  _Ingle_, Richard,
    his part in the Clayborne and Ingle rebellion, 491.

  _Iron_,
    importance of, 352
    the ancients carried nearly to perfection the preparation of other
     metals, iron still in a state of advancement, 353
    its use by the Egyptians in the time of Moses, 354
    its importance gathered from Homer; used by Lycurgus for currency; in
     Solomon's temple, 354
    art of welding; mines of Elba; steel; cast iron, 355
    appearances of good and bad iron, 356
    impurities in ores, 356, 357
    grey and white cast iron, 358
    theory of Karsten on, 359
    reduction of ores, 361, 362
    blooming, 363
    stuckoffen, 364
    flossoffen, 365
    blast furnaces 365-368
    casting; pig iron, 368
    causes of whiteness, 369
    fuel adapted to different kinds of castings, 370, 371
    early preparation of iron in the British American provinces, and
     attempt to introduce into England, 372
    refining, 373-375
    cost of manufacturing iron in England, 375, 376
    duty on iron in this country; its manufacture by charcoal; stone coal;
     capital required for a profitable competition, 377-380
    how far government ought to afford protection, 385.

  _Irving_, Washington,
    his Voyages and Discoveries of the Companions of Columbus, reviewed,
     163-186
    why this book is not so interesting as the Life of Columbus, 164
    voyage of discovery of Alonzo de Ojeda, associated with Juan de la
     Cosa and Amerigo Vespucci, 165
    arrival on the coast of Surinam, 166
    gives the name which it still bears to the town of Venezuela, 167
    reception at Coquibacoa, _ib._
    profitable voyage of Pedro Alonzo Niño and Christoval Guerra, 168
    expedition of Vincente Yañez Pinzon, _ib._
    of Diego de Lepe, 169
    of Rodrigo de Bastides, assisted by Juan de la Cosa, _ib._
    Ojeda and Diego de Nicuesa receive contiguous grants of territory, and
     quarrel about the boundary, 170
    Ojeda relieved from embarrassment by Martin Fernandez de Enciso, and
     sails, having on board Francisco Pizarro, 171
    disasters among the savages, and Ojeda's reconciliation with Nicuesa,
     173
    founds St. Sebastian; distress of the colony, _ib._
    sails for St. Domingo with Bernardo de Talavera, 174
    shipwreck, _ib._
    death, 175
    Vasco Nuñez de Balboa proceeds with Enciso to Ojeda's new settlement,
     176
    events there, 177
    fate of Nicuesa, _ib._
    Enciso superseded by Vasco Nuñez, 171
    his adventures; discovery of the Pacific Ocean, and return to Darien,
     178-181
    Pedro Arias Davila supersedes Vasco Nuñez and has him executed, 181-184
    Valdivia, and Juan Ponce de Leon, 184
    merits of the work, 185.

  _Italy_,
    Notes on, by Rembrandt Peale, reviewed, 512, &c.
    the author's long-cherished desire to visit Italy repeatedly
     frustrated, 513
    arrival in the Bay of Naples, 514
    catacombs of Santa Maria della Vita, 515
    Rome, 516
    appearance, &c. of the inhabitants, 517
    Tivoli, Tuscany, Florence, 518, 519
    the celebrated improvisatrice Rosa Taddei, 520-521
    Pisa, Carrara, Genoa, 521
    Parma, Bologna, entrance into Venice, 522, 523
    statue of San Carlo Borromeo, 524
    return to France; and home through England, 524, 525
    ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii, 525-527
    workers in Mosaic, 529
    statuary, 530
    colouring of different artists, 531, 532.


    J.

  _Jackson_, Gen. Andrew,
    his proceedings at New-Orleans, before, during, and after the
     battle, 218-231
    his message to Congress in relation to the Bank of the United
     States, 246-282.

  _Jagellon_,
    weds Hedwiga, daughter of Lewis of Hungary, and ascends the Polish
     throne, 462, &c.

  _James_ I.,
    his counterblast to tobacco, 136-140
    his dinner for the devil, 145
    argument in his counterblast, 148.

  _Johnson_, Mr.,
    his letter on the culture of the sugar cane, 199-201.

  _Journal_ of proceedings of Literary and Scientific gentleman at
  New-York,
   notice of, 283, &c.


    K.

  _Kamtchatka_,
    Travels in, 52, &c. See _Dobell_, Peter.

  _Karsten_, C. I. B.,
    his manuel de la Metallurgie de fer, translated from the German by
     F. I. Culman, notice of, 352, &c. See _Iron_.

  _Klootchefsky_,
    volcano of, 66.

  _Koskiusko_, count,
    his efforts for Polish liberty, 476, &c. See _Poland_.


    L.

  _Ladislaus_ I.,
    crowned king of Poland, 461
    _Ladislaus_ IV., 466.

  _Leib_, James R., A. M.,
    Lectures on Scientific education by, notice of, 283.

  _Leiber_, Dr.,
    his part in the Convention for forming a University, 290.

  _Leibnitz_, Professor,
    a victim to ennui, 49.

  _Lepe_, Diego de,
    his voyage of discovery, 169.

  _Lewis_, king of Hungary,
    made king of Poland, 462.

  _Livingston_, Mr.,
    his part in the cession of Louisiana to the United States, 214.

  _Louallier_, Mr.,
    his arrest by General Jackson, 225.

  _Louisiana_, History of, by François-Xavier Martin,
    reviewed, 186, &c.
    Barbé Marbois's history, 187
    character of Judge Martin, 188
    odd combinations in his work, 189
    account of an earthquake in Canada, 190
    Penn's purchase from the Indians, 191
    government paper money, 191, 192
    Marbois on this subject, 192
    Louisiana in 1713, 193
    introduction of negroes from Africa, 194
    a female adventurer, 195
    progress of New-Orleans, 195, 196
    aggression on the Indians and their revenge, 197
    introduction of the sugar cane, and its progress, 197, &c.
    Mr. Johnson's letter on, 199-201
    paternal affection in an Indian, 202
    removal of the Arcadians, 203
    shipping off obnoxious characters, 204
    cession to Spain of a portion of Louisiana, _ib._
    Don Ulloa arrives to take possession, but refrains from formally doing
     so, 204
    followed by Don Alexander O'Reilly, who commits many atrocities,
     205-208
    interest felt in Louisiana in our struggle for independence, 208
    instance of American gallantry and enterprise, _ib._
    the foundation of commercial intercourse laid with the United States
     by General Wilkinson, 209
    Don Martin Navarro's sagacious communication to the king, 210
    Baron de Carondelet's miscalculations respecting the western people,
     211
    retrocession of the territory to France, 212, 213
    cession to the United States, 214, 215
    Burr's plot, and General Wilkinson's proceedings, 216-218
    General Jackson's preparations for the defence of New-Orleans, 218,
     219
    battle of Orleans and subsequent proceedings of Jackson, 221-232
    banishing the French from New-Orleans, 224
    arrest of Louallier, 225
    of Judge Hall, 226, 227
    of Hollander, 228
    Jackson summoned before Judge Hall, 230
    his sentence, 231.


    M.

  _Mackenzie_, Wm. Lyon,
    his catechism of education, notice of, 283.

  _M'Mahon_, John V. L.,
    his Historical View of Maryland, &c. reviewed, 483, &c. See _Maryland_.

  _Madison_, James,
    his opinion upon the tariff and nullification, 453.

  _Maizeaux_, M. de,
    his translation of Latin verses in praise of tobacco, 143.

  _Marbois_, Barbé,
    his History of Louisiana, notice of, 186, &c. See _Louisiana_.

  _Martin_, François-Xavier,
    his History of Louisiana, reviewed, 186, &c. See _Louisiana_.

  _Maryland_, Historical View of the Government of, by John V. L. M'Mahon,
    reviewed, 483, &c.
    occasional remarks, 483-485
    boundaries of Lord Baltimore's grant, 486
    his contest with William Clayborne, _ib._
    with William Penn, _ib._
    settlement of boundaries to the north, 488
    controversies in regard to the west, 489, 490
    first settlement under Calvert, 490
    Clayborne and Ingle's rebellion, 491
    contest with the Parliament, _ib._
    governor Stone defeated, 492
    troubles from Josiah Fendall, 492, 493
    condition of the colonies in 1687, 494, 495
    formation of Protestant Association, which transmits to the king
     charges against the provincial government, who dispossesses the
     proprietary and appoints Sir Lionel Copley royal governor, 496
    seat of government changed, 497
    Annapolis, 498
    Governor Nicholson, 499
    view of the colonies from 1689 to 1710, 500
    persecution of Catholics, 501
    internal dissensions, 501, 502
    resources of Maryland at the commencement of the revolution, 503
    resistance of colonies to aggressions, 504
    case of Zachariah Hood, the distributer of stamps in Annapolis, 507,
     508
    proceedings of Assembly, 508
    stamp paper retained on board the vessel, 509
    proceeding in relation to the tea, 511.

  _Matthews_, Rev. Dr.,
    notice of his address to the convention at New-York, 285.

  _Memorial_ of the workers in iron of Philadelphia,
    notice of, 352, &c.

  _Monroe_, James,
    his part in the cession of Louisiana to the United States, 214.

  _Morgan_, Lady,
    her France in 1829-30, reviewed, 1, &c.
    preparations for a tour, 2
    Lady Morgan's parentage, 3
    marriage, 4
    book-making propensity, 4,5
    pernicious tendency of her works, 5
    reasons for severity in regard to her, 6
    her egotism, 7
    arrival at Calais, 8
    the Diligence, and difference between English and French stages, 9-11
    arrival at Paris, 12
    her horror at the prevalence of Anglomania in France, 13-15
    travelling in France, 16
    want of magnificent country seats, _ib._
    number of mendicants, 17
    facility of making acquaintance with fellow-travellers, _ib._
    Lady Morgan's deductions as sapient as those of the Hon. Frederick de
     Roos, 18
    her want of decorum, 19
    vanity, 20
    becomes the subject of the Parisians propensity to ridicule, 22
    notice of her works in the Edinburgh and Quarterly Review, 24
    romanticism and classicism in Paris, 26
    interview with a romanticist, 27, 28
    with a classicist, 29
    Othello at the Theâtre Français, _ib._
    Lady Morgan's plagiarism, 30, 31.

  _Murray_, Dr.,
    his opinion of the use of tobacco, 154.


    N.

  _Navarro_, Don Martin,
    his communication to the King of Spain in regard to the American
     colonies, 210.

  _Nicholson_, Governor Francis,
    his part in the colonial government of Maryland, 499, 500.

  _Nicot_, John,
    tobacco introduced into France by, 144.

  _Nicuesa_, Diego de,
    his grant of territory and adventures in South America, 170, &c.

  _Niño_, Pedro Alonzo,
    his adventure to America, 168.

  _Nyssens_, Abbot,
    his belief that the devil first introduced tobacco into Europe, 142.


    O.

  _Ochotsk_,
    town of, 72, 73.

  _Ojeda_, Alonzo de,
    his Voyages of Discovery, 165-175.

  _Olekma_,
    town of, 78.

  _O'Reilly_, Don Alexander,
    his arrival at New-Orleans to take possession for Spain, and his
     atrocities, 205-208.

  _Owen_, Joseph,
    his translation of Von Schmidt-Phiseldek's Europe and America,
     reviewed. See _Europe and America_.


    P.

  _Paper currency_,
    government, 191, 192.

  _Peale_, Rembrandt,
    his Notes on Italy, reviewed, 512, &c. See _Italy_.

  _Penn_, William,
    his difficulties in settling the boundary line with Maryland, 486, 487.

  _Physical Geography_, 82
    density of the earth, 83
    polar and equatorial diameters, _ib._
    sources of heat, 84, 85
    equilibrium of the particles of the earth, 85, 86
    heat at the centre, 86
    consolidation of the surface of the earth, 87
    present appearance of its surface, 88
    chain of mountains, 89
    Malte Brun's arrangement of mountains into connected systems, 90
    basins, rivers, and streams, 91
    traces of aqueous action, 92
    diluvial deposits, 93
    stratified rocks, 94
    third, fourth, and fifth orders of rocks, 95
    organic remains, 96-102
    different level of the same rocks, 103
    volcanoes, 104-109
    trap rocks, 105
    earthquakes, 107-109
    M. E. De Beaumont's researches into the age of mountains, 109-112.

  _Physiology_ of the Passions, by J. L. Alibert,
    notice of, 33.

  _Pinzon_, Vincente Yañez,
    his voyages of discovery, 168.

  _Pitt_, Prime Minister,
    his followers and opponents, 322-325.

  _Pizarro_, Francisco,
    his early adventures in America, 171, &c.

  _Poland_,
    impending fate of, 457, 458
    constitution granted it by Alexander, 458
    its former importance, 459
    early history, 460
    Ladislaus crowned king, 461
    events in the reign of Casimir the Great, _ib._--
    Lewis, king of Hungary; his daughter Hedwiga, weds Jagellon, whose
     family filled the throne through seven reigns, 462
    increasing power of the nobles, 463
    with Sigismund Augustus the reign of the Jagellons ceased, and the
     succession became elective, 464
    Henry of Anjou elected king; succeeded by Stephen Bathory, duke of
     Transylvania, 465
    Sigismund III. declared king, in whose reign the dismemberment and
     woes of Poland began, 466
    succeeded by Ladislaus IV., _ib._
    followed by John Casimir, who, after predicting the fate of the
     empire, resigned the crown, 467
    Michael Wisniowiecki chosen king; on his death, John Sobieski
     succeeded, 468
    reigns of Augustus II. and III., 469
    Stanislaus Poniatowski, the last Polish king; events in his reign
     that led to the dismemberment of Poland, 470-472
    assembling of the revolutionary diet at Warsaw, 473
    alliance with Prussia; second diet; constitution promulgated, 474
    Catharine invades Poland, and shares with Prussia a portion of its
     territory, 476
    final effort of the patriots under Koskiusko, 477
    battle of Praga, and third division of Poland; abdication of
     Stanislaus, 478
    summary of events in Polish history, 479-482.

  _Prussia_,
    alliance of with Poland, 474
    share in its partition, 476.

  _Pyrrhus_,
    an ennuyé, 47.


    R.

  _Ralegh_, Sir Walter,
    remarks on, 145-147.

  _Rome_,
    appearance of the inhabitants of, &c. 516, 517.

  _Rousseau_, Jean Jacques,
    a prey to ennui, 42.

  _Rulhiere_, M. his Histoire de l'Anarchie de Pologne,
    notice of, 457, &c. See _Poland_.

  _Rush_, Dr. Benjamin,
    his observations upon the influence of the habitual use of tobacco,
     &c. 136, &c.

  _Russia_,
    the part of, in the dismemberment of Poland, 457, &c. See _Poland_.


    S.

  _San_ Carlo Borromeo,
    statue of, 524.

  _Santa_ Maria della Vita,
    catacombs of, 515.

  _Sartorius_, George,
    his continuation of Spittler's Polish revolution, notice of, 457, &c.

  _Sheridan_, R. B.,
    notice of, 322-324.

  _Siamese Twins_, The,
    a Satirical Tale by the author of Pelham, reviewed, 385, &c.
    occasional remarks, 386-391
    outline of the poem, with remarks, 392-397.

  _Siberia_,
    Travels in, 52, etc. See _Dobell_, Peter, his Travels.

  _Sigismund_ Augustus,
    the last of the Jagellon family on the throne of Poland, 64.

  _Sigismund_ III.,
    woes to Poland in the reign of, 466.

  _Sobieski_, John, king of Poland,
    reign of, 468.

  _Spanish_ Voyages of Discovery,
    by Washington Irving, reviewed, 163, &c. See _Irving_, Washington.

  _Sparks_, Mr.,
    in the Convention at New York on the subject of an University,
     286-288-309.

  _Spinoza_,
    his resources against ennui, 43.

  _Spittler's_ Polish revolution,
    with a continuation by George Sartorius, notice of, 457.

  _Stanislaus_ (Poniatowski) king of Poland,
    reign of, 470, &c. See _Poland_.

  _Steel_,
    preparation of, &c. See _Iron_, 352-385.

  _Stone_, Governor,
    his defeat in an insurrection in the colony of Maryland, 492.

  _Stuart_, Isaac,
    his translation of Greppo's Hieroglyphic System of Champollion, Jr.,
     reviewed, 339, &c. See _Hieroglyphic System_.

  _Stuart_, Professor,
    remarks of, on the perishing of Pharaoh in the Red Sea, 346.

  _Sugar-cane_,
    introduction and culture of in Louisiana, 197-201.

  _Sylvester_, Joseph,
    his tobacco battered, notice of, 140.


    T.

  _Taddei_, Rosa,
    celebrated improvisatrice, description of, 520, 521.

  _Talavera_, Bernardo de,
    his adventure to South America, 174.

  _Thieves_,
    auto-biography of, 116, &c.

  _Thompson_, Dr. A. T.,
    his notices relative to tobacco, &c. 136, &c.

  _Thorius_, Dr. Raphael,
    his Latin poem in praise of tobacco, 137
    anecdote of, 138.

  _Tobacco_, 136
    whimsical subjects selected by authors, _ib._
    Latin poem in praise of tobacco, by Dr. Raphael Thorius, 137
    anecdote of him, 138
    Mr. Lambe's Farewell to Tobacco, 139
    James I., his Counterblast to Tobacco, 140
    origin of, _ib._
    Joseph Sylvester's tobacco battered, _ib._
    Indian superstition respecting, 141
    different names of the weed, 141, 142
    Abbot Nyssen's belief that the devil first introduced it into
     Europe, 142
    competitors for that honour, 143
    Latin verses in its praise, with English translation by M. de
     Maizeaux, _ib._
    its introduction into France by John Nicot, 144
    disputes respecting its origin, _ib._
    King James's dinner for the devil, 145
    remarks on Sir Walter Ralegh, 145-147
    young women imported for wives into Virginia, and paid for in tobacco,
     147
    prohibitions of it in Europe, _ib._
    King James's arguments in his Counterblast, 148
    commendations of it by Acosta, Lord Bacon and Howell, 149
    unprofitableness of its culture, 150
    its production and consumption in France, 151
    opinion of Dr. Rush, Mr. Chamberet, 152
    Dr. Walsh, Hearne, Willis, Dr. Cullen, and Dr. Fowler, 153
    Dr. Murray, 154
    anecdote respecting it, related by Dr. Clarke, 155
    its tendency to promote intemperance, 156
    snuff-taking, 156-159
    smoking, 160
    chewing, 161
    anecdote of Franklin, 163.

  _Tobolsk_,
    town of, 81.

  _Tomsk_,
    town of, 80.

  _Tooke_, Horne,
    his claim to the authorship of Junius, 325.


    U.

  _Ulloa_, Don,
    his arrival at New Orleans to take possession for Spain of Louisiana,
     and withdrawal without exhibiting his powers, 205.


    V.

  _Vaux_, James Hardy,
    Memoirs of, 116, &c. See _Auto-biography of Thieves_.

  _Vespucci_, Amerigo,
    his participation in the discoveries of South America, 165, &c.

  _Vidocq_,
    principal agent of the French police, memoirs of, 116, &c. See
     _Auto-biography of Thieves_.

  _Von Schmidt-Phiseldek_, Dr. C. F.,
    his Europe and America, &c. reviewed. See _Europe and America_.


    W.

  _Walsh_, Dr.,
    his testimony to the use of tobacco, 152.

  _Ward_, Thomas,
    (the American Trenck) memoirs of, 116, &c. See _Auto-biography of
     Thieves_.

  _Webster_, Daniel,
    his Speeches and Forensic Arguments, reviewed, 420, &c.
    nationality of his addresses, 420
    his birth, &c., 421
    remarks on the support of schools, 422
    graduates at Dartmouth college, studies the law; advantages derived
     from intercourse with Messrs. Thompson, Gore, Judge Smith, Senator
     Mason, 423-424
    elected to Congress in 1812, 425
    opinion upon a navy, 425
    opposition to paper-bank proposition of 1814, 426-430
    or receiving depreciated currency for government debts, 430, 431
    his removal from Portsmouth to Boston, 431
    counsel in the case of Dartmouth college, 432-434
    Gibson vs. Ogden, 435, 436
    Ogden vs. Saunders, 436
    one of the delegates to revise the Constitution of Massachusetts, 437
    selected to deliver an oration from the rock of Plymouth, in
     celebration of the landing of the pilgrim fathers, 438, 439
    at Bunker's Hill, on laying the foundation stone of the monument,
     440, 441
    on the deaths of Adams and Jefferson, 441
    his part in Congress in favour of the Greeks, 442, 443
    on the tariff, 444
    Crimes'-Act, 445
    internal improvements, 446
    Panama mission, 447
    election to the United States' Senate, _ib._
    his overthrow of the doctrine of nullification, 447-455.

  _Wilkinson_, General,
    the foundation of a commercial intercourse with the United States and
     Louisiana laid by, 209
    his proceedings in relation to Burr's plot, 216-218.

  _Willis_,
    (as quoted by Mons. Merat,) his commendation of tobacco, 153.

  _Wisniowiecki_, Michael,
    chosen king of Poland, 468.

  _Wolf_, Dr. J. Leo,
    his part in the New-York Convention for forming a University, 297-311.

  _Woodbridge_, W. C.,
    part taken by, in the New-York Convention, for forming a University,
     286-297-311.


    Y.

  _Yakutsk_,
    town of, 76.


    Z.

  _Zielinski_, M.,
    his History of Poland, notice of, 457. See _Poland_.




  Transcriber's Notes:

  Obsolete hyphenation, use of commas, archaic spelling of words, and
   misspelled words contained within quotations were retained; minor
   punctuation errors were corrected.
  Footnotes were moved to the end of the applicable article.
  In the index, pages numbered 1-282 refer to the March 1831 issue,
    Project Gutenberg e-book 28012.

  Amendments to text:
    Spelled Greek letters ...the Phi Beta Kappa society..., and in the
      hieroglyphic system article, when used as stand-alone letters.
    Hebrew text in Article III. was corrected, thus:
      pl-mpm pd`h. kh=dkh= pz changed to: kol-sus par`ó v^eh.é-ló
      g`r changed to: váyna`ér from ní`ér
      zg`r changed to: váyna`ér
      b`r changed to: ní`ér
    'adaddress' changed to 'address' ...in his opening address...
    'inviduals' to 'individuals' ...the attendance of such individuals...
    'trangressions' to 'transgressions' ...certain transgressions, such as
      gambling,...
    'cart' to 'carte' ...at carte and tierce...
    removed duplicate 'the the' ...up to the moment when...
    'stateman' to 'statesman' ...in a statesman--but in a minister...
    'of' to 'to' ...are always used to denote the feminine gender...
    'an' to 'a' ...represents a Lamda...
    'Egyytians' to 'Egyptians' ...the Lord overthrew the Egyptians...
    'Archaiology' to 'Archæology' ...interested in Biblical Archæology...
    'obversation' to 'observation' ...the man of observation...
    'quantites' to 'quantities' ...in too great quantities they fail...
    'consits' to 'consists' ...This consists in exposing them...
    added 'which' to phrase ...the readiness with which it is fashioned...
    'vitrefied' to 'vitrified' ...bases combined and vitrified...
    'gray' to 'grey' for consistency ...Good grey iron...
    'analagous' to 'analogous' ...This is analogous to the system...
    'cotemporary' to 'contemporary' ...The contemporary prevalence of...
    'avalanch' to 'avalanche' ...heavy--like an avalanche--rushed...
    'nett' to 'net' ...adds to the net profits of the importer...
    'Engand' to 'England' ...the monopoly of England from which...
    'downfal' to 'downfall' ...that of the downfall of the system...
    'immunites' to 'immunities' ...promises of privileges and
      immunities...
    'und' to 'and' ...and under which thousands have sunk down...
    'aand' to 'and' ...was difficult, and he felt it to be so...
    'multitutes' to 'multitudes' ...landholders with multitudes of
      retainers...
    'higer' to 'higher' ...It is higher, purer, nobler...
    'origiginal' to 'original' ...with spontaneous, original, native
      force...
    'gratificatification' to 'gratification' ...increased gratification
      and delight...
    'awkard' to 'awkward' ...it is rather an awkward business,...
    'dectrines' to 'doctrines' ...and constitutional doctrines...
    'powful' to 'powerful' ...had two powerful enemies,...
    'glady' to 'gladly' ...would gladly have separated themselves...
    'dissidants' to 'dissidents' ...he did not understand the wants of the
      dissidents;...
    'guarantied' to 'guaranteed' ...treaty with Prussia guaranteed the
      liberties...
    removed duplicate 'the the' ...shake off the intolerable yoke...
    'considerbly' to 'considerably' ...within considerably narrower
      limits...
    'debateable' to 'debatable' ...disturbed the debatable ground...
    'possesssion' to 'possession' ...undisputed possession of the
      province...
    'creek' to 'Creek' ...and at Battle Creek...
    'responsibilty' to 'responsibility' ...on his own responsibility,...
    'ballustrades' to 'balustrades' ...elegant balustrades of costly...
    'veturina' to 'vetturino' ...set out in a vetturino for Rome...
    'Maratime' to 'Maritime' ...of the Maritime Alps,...
    'lengh' to 'length' ...At length we reached some old walls...
    'appararatus' to 'apparatus' ...all the apparatus of a household...
    'Smith' to 'Schmidt' ...since Von Schmidt-Phiseldek's work was
      published...
    'settletlement' to 'settlement' ...settlement of boundaries to the
      north...
    'equitorial' to 'equatorial' ...polar and equatorial diameters...
    added missing page number, 425, to index entry for Webster election
      to Congress
    corrected index page numbers: from 421 to 521 for Pisa, Carrara,
      Genoa; from 560 to 460 for early history of Poland.





End of Project Gutenberg's The American Quarterly Review, by Various