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i (4 ~(NI 4 ~/1 A/ I THE - AMERICAN REVII A WHIG JOURNAL DEVOTED TO POLITICS, LITERATURE, ART AND S( TO STAND BY THE CONSTITUTION . VOL. VI. Pulchrum est bene facere Reipub1ica~, etiam bene dicere hand ak NEW-YORK: GEORGE H. COLTON, 118 NASSAU STRE: WILEY AND PUTNAM~ 6 WATERLOO PLACED REGENT ST.~ 1847~

The Constitution; Written and Unwritten 1-17

THE AMERICAN REYJE A WHIG JOURNAL OF POLITICS, LITERATURE, ART AND SC JULY, 1847. THE CONSTITUTION; WRITTEN AND UNWRITT E IT may surprise some of our readers to find us speaking of an unwritten Consti- tution, as if any such thing actually ex- isted, or was, indeed, possible, in this country. Any such surprise, we believe, may give place to conviction, and, we hope, to very serious reflections, by the time we have concluded what we have to say on the subject. The general im- pression undoubtedly is, that we have, and can have, no Constitutional Law in this country, whether for the several States of the Union, or for the Uhion itself, but what rests in the text of written instruments. Many, however, who are better instructed on this subject, under- stand very well that written Constitu- tions, like all statutes, are necessarily the subjects of authoritative construction and interpretation; and that the conclusions thus reached, when established in a legi- timate way, are to be taken along with the written text, as if they were a part of it, for all practical purposes. The several departments, or functionaries, of the gov- ernment, must put a ps~ctical construc- tion on their own powers, and, with or without the aid of the Judicial Depart- ment, settle, by their action, many points about which doubts may have arisen. And so much of Constitutional Law as thus rests in interpretation and practical construction, is unwritten law; and so far it may be deemed unavoidable that the written text of the highest law known to political communities, or governments, and where the purpose has been to keep that text as clear as possible of all e& vteric authority and influence, shon least in some instances, to matter existing out of and be strument itself, for its true m; for the extent or limitation 01 powers. But when we speak, in of an unwritten Constitutior something more than this. \ quite possible for Government tical use of powers more tha greatly to enlarge the scope authority. Indeed, important stantial amendments, or rat. changes, may thus be made ten instrument; as much so were effected directly by con delegates and popular suifrag. impossible, in this way, essenti vert the original Constitution, another and a very different C in its place. We are constrain and it is the object of this artb that an operation of this sot begun already, and the effect sion and substitution actuali out, or is being accomplished; serious and alarming extent. several clear cases of assumptbz in which the Administration ington have indulged withini~ period, which, if submitted quiesced in by the country, so come good and approved pre. future imitation and action, affirm, an essential and abiding in the Government. As the ir the Administration, based on VOL. VI. 2 The Con8titution; written and unwritten. sumptions of power, have either been executed, or are in process of successful and unrestrained execution, we hold that the written Constitution of the United States, so far as the authority and acts of the existing Government can go, is already actually subverted in the most essential points, and a new Constitution, partly written and partly unwritten, is so far substituted in its place. We hope that no intelligent reader will turn away from this suggestion, that an unwritten Constitution of the United States, in whole or in part, may be made to take the place of the written instru- inent, however incongruous such an idea may appear with all his previous notions on the subject. Let it be remembered what the British Constitution is, and how it has been made and settled. It is wholly unwritten, though many of its principal features are determined by reference to written documents; and it defines the prerogatives of the sovereign and the authority of parliament, and the powers and privileges of the several estates of the kingdom, and the rights of the nation or the people, just in accordance with the leading occurrences and facts in the history of the empire. It is altogether historical. Such prerogatives as the sovereign has been accustomed to as- sume and exercise, with the concurrence of the other estates and of the nation, are his constitutional prerogatives. The powers and privileges of the other estates, and the national cr popular rights, have been settled in the same way. Some important points in this Constitution, as we all know, have not been adjusted without serious contest and commotion; some, indeed, not without civil war and violent revolution. And we must not forget that if the pretensions and assump- tions of prerogative and power put forth and practised by the Stuart kings of England, had prevailedif they had been acquiesced in and submitted to by the nationif these kings had not been re- sisted, and the race and name finally expelled from the kingdomthe English Constitution would have been quite a dif- ferent thing, in its most vital parts, from what it became under the revolution of 1688, and what it is now. This case of the English Constitution is referred to as an example to show how easy and natural a thing it is for an unwritten or historical Constitution to grow up in any country; and we, in this country, deceive ourselves egregiously if we suppose that, because we began with a wri ment, we are therefore secli any changes in its features or except such as may be made a. the forms prescribed in the Pi instrument itself, and plaini down, like the rest, as a part powers are assumed by the E~ any department or branch of t~ ment, and exercised with the c of the nation, we do not see powers must not thenceforwar Constitutional, and all acts under them as legitimate as if ity for them was found insert verba, in the written instru least, this must be so, until so plicit and significant act of di be manifested on the part of We do not say that every Pr#z Administration would be boun a bad example, and exercise a power, because a preceding and Administration had done forbidden or unauthorized act and accomplished, and the cle of the nation added, could not garded as giving a sufficieni for its repetition. We know test to which the matter could I and that would be an impeach nobody can pretend that an im could be maintained for an could be justified by a clear when there had been, at the only no impeachment thought the contrary, a manifest ac and sanction of the nation. undoubtedly, that the force of cedent, so acquiesced in and at one period, might be desk subsequent period, by a manifc dissent. Still we must hold tb case of the exercise of usur once fairly having the nationa and not repudiated or condemn petent judicial authority, nothi an unequivocal national act could hinder that power from lx in the number of the legitimat tional powers of the Governw more than this; there are acts ment which, once past and cannot be recalled, and if th; usurped, it is a usurpation,n the occasion, but for all time, as the Government shall sta the case of the acquisition of as an example and illustration. was no authority in the writt.. tution for this great measure 1847.] The Constitution; written and unwritten. has wrought such a change in the whole condition, prospects and destiny of the republicand we know, at least, that Mr. Jefferson, who was its author and finisher, never entertained a doubt to the contrarystill, when it was once accom- plished, when that vast country had been brought under the dominion of the United States, it was too late, if there had been any such disposition, either then or at any time since, to retreat from the position. we had assumed. The Old Thirteen had become joined to a new country and do- main, and the written Constitution, which had opened, as by a broad chasm, to let in the new territory and its population, must expand itself, and keep expanding,to meet every duty and every exigency of govern- ment, which might arise on account of the new acquisition. There was no escape and no alternative. So that those who are prepared to hold or admit, with Mr. Jeffer- son, that the act by ~vhich Louisiana was acquired could not be made to re t on any power in tl~~ written Constitution, must admit also, and cannot doubt, that tIme Government of the United States has, in this single instance, clothed itself with new powera of vast extent and si~nifi- cance, which are now unquestioned and unquestionable; powers adequate not only to the acquisition but to the control and government of a great added empire, with a vast and ever-growing population, in all its complicated affairs and interests, to the full extent to which the authority of the government is exerted, under its written powers, within the limits of its original jurisdiction. And if such new powers existif they have becfl exerted and we see their manifest operation and influence every day and in a thousand forms; and if it be conceded that these powers are not found in the original writ- ten Constitution of government, then it is clear that they exist outside of that instrument, and are unwritten powers added, by sheer usurpation and the gene- ral consent of the nation, to the powers and authority of the written textual Con- stitution. We have put this case, in a manner, hypothetically, in regard to the question of original Constitutional power, because it is not very material to the point for which we are using it, whether it was actually a case of usurped power or not. Opinion scarcely differed about it at the time. The friends, as well as the oppo- nents of the measure, the most promi VOL. VI.NO. L 1 nent of them, were unable sanction for it in the Cons~ some of them, Mr. Jeffei them, proposed that the brec this proceeding in that Instri be healed by a post-facto At least, then, we have a present this case of the ac Louisiana, since it was very deemed at the period a pretty of usurped and unaccorded point, to show that it is not a or even an improbable thing that the authority of the Fedc inent, or of the Executive, s to be very materially en extended, by means of assun which, having the nationmi whether by some express ac pressive silence, must therei~ garded, albeit unwritten an merely, as having an equal v those which are found in the of the Constitution. But we come now to consi recent instances of what we clear assumptions of power, cases of the highest impor which, if we are to look up having already received th. sanction, or as certain to do E suredly wrought the most change in the Constitution of tryhave engrafted upon it provisions, which overthrow ti- war with the spirit of the wry meathave clothed the Fede~ ment, and the Executive espe( new and extraordinary powe~ in the beginning of our histo~ man ever dreamed of as fit to ed to the sort of government was intended to be. The instances to which we i with the Annexation of Te United States, and all of grown naturally enough out of action. First comes the meas- nexation; and, ~vhen it is acc we have a new and extended e a foreign people, amalgamated own, and the Constitution strmi pieced out, long enough and bro to embrace and cover the whol. While this measure is in a and progress, but before it is c. ted, and while, therefore, Texa~ eign to the United States as Japan, the Executive undertake itary~ defence of that foreigr 4 T/ae Coi2stitution; written and unwritten. against all its enemies, and employs the army of the United States in this enter- prise. The next scene in this eventful drama opens with war, brought on by the Ex- ecutive. Along with Texas, we adopt a quarrel long existing between that re- public and Mexico, provided Mexico sees fit to prosecute that quarrel with us, as she had done, and was doing, with Tex- as. But this failing to bring us into im- mediate collision with that power, there remained a disputed question of bounda- ry between our new Texan dorninions and Mexico, which we adopted with the country, and on this topic the President finds occasion to begin a military move- ment which brings on the war. Assum- ing the right to determine, by his person- al fiat, that the whole territory in dispute belonged to the United States indisputa- bly, and having an eye at the same time to some further territorial acquisition, he sends forward a military force to occupy the country, and dispossess and exclude the Mexicans. The war follows, of course, ~r~d b~omes, on our part, a war of aggression, invasion, and foreign con- quest. The government, having a war of in- vasion and foreign conquest on its hands, undertaken by the Bxecutive, the next thing to be determined is, by what means it shall be prosecuted. Everybody knows that none but troops of the United States, enlisted in its service, and officered by its authority,, can be employed in such a war, under the written Constitution. But the army is wholly inadequate, in point of numbers, to open and maintain a cam- paign in a foreign country, and it cannot be made adequate by any process of en- listments to meet the immediate and press- ing demands of the campaign. Hence, a new power is at once assumedthat of employing the militia of the country, un- der the name of volunteers, in this dis- tant and foreign service. That species of force, in the service of the United States, is no longer to be restricted with- in the old constitutional limits, to exe- cute the laws of the Union, suppress in- ~urrections, and repel invasions. But next, it naturally happens, in the prosecution of this unequ~i war, that foreign territory is overrun by our armies, and isin condition to be brought under the dominion of the United States; and, of ceurse, it seems necessary, if the sover- eignty is assumed, to provide, in some way, for ~he government of the conquer- ed countries. If New Mexic ifornia have submitted to ou~ our conquering power, which have swept away the autho Mexican Republic within th these provinces, their inhabita titled at our hands to the prot benefits of some form or othr lar government. But if forei~. be conquered by our arms, a undcr our dominion, ~o long as under this dominion it below gress, by the written Cons make all needful rules and re respecting its preservation a~ mont. But Congr ss, though cognixed the existence of the xv ing entered into any schemes conquest, makes no provision and is never asked to make a protection and government oX quered country or province ; and the Executive, who seems reso occasion to show himself equ emergency, himself makes ev sion necessary to meet the cas his personal authority and ord eignty is assumed,civil rule is c and officers are appointed ow quered provinces, and all the regular government enforced the full extent to which the rio conqueror are recognixed ar ted to. Finally: as the carrying Oi invasion and foreign conquesi to be an expensive operation gress and the country may be. of furnishing supplies for a c certainly of their seeking, and they can feel no pride, but V and loathing rather; and as, in the Administration is likely to a rigid ~ccountability by the ~ day or another, for the cost of of haxard and bloody speculal at least as it is supported by re~ gressional appropriations, nude ten Constitution; hence, the deems it proper and politic to ration a new mode of supplyin; tary chest, wholly independer gross, and out of the reach of a~ abi4ity. Taking possession oi cipal ports of the Mexican Rep treating them as places conq brought under his personal do sets up his own government establishes custom-houses aur custom-house officers, proclain of duties on all goods and m~ 1847.] The Constitution; written and unwritten. entered at these ports, and invites into sent somewhat more at large, them the comn~erce of all nationsthat with necessary hrevity, some of the United States along with the rest vious considerations which who may desire to trade with Mexico, manner too clear for disputati as it is through these ports, and these possible it is to find any sancti only, that they are to be alowed to reach acts in the written Constit Mexico with their supplies, and that only wholly ~nd broadly they sta after these supplies shall have first paid apart from that Instrument a: a tribute to the personal military chest of ers, and how, essentially the President, for the support of the war change the whole character he is prosecuting against that country. eminent, if they are to he re Really, it seems to us that the patriotic constituting a part of its lop sensibilities of the American people must thority. be deadened indeed, if they can look on In regard to the Annexatio this catalogue and array of gross usurp- it may be, and probably is, pi ations of power, as we have here prc~- ally regarded as beinv~ nowi sented them in order, and remain ur- any purpose of practical ut moved. Yet these acts have not been back and insist on the utter w done in a corner, but openly, and, as it stitutional sasotion for this rn were, on the house-top. The President is true, the deed has been dor mnst be acquitted of any attempts at not now be undone; the rnea~ concealments. The country Las known summated and past, and the c. what he was about; and what serious not, or will not, withdraw fine impression has been made on the public tion and relations in which th mind? A few faithful men and public has placed it. Texas is a sentineis have proclaimed the danger, United States; it has becomc and tried to sound an alarm; and no this Union, standing by the doubt men of reflection everywhere are Old Thirteen, having its repi sorely troubled, and are laying these in both Houses of Congre~ things to heart; but we are forced to have, entitled to the same prix confess that, as yet, we have not seen bound by the same obligatio. those evidences of popular apprehension same destiny. Texas, by the those symptoms of strong popular dis- has in our public councils, ma sent, ready to rise to the height of an in- to the republic, and shape o di~nant rebuke and denunciation, not to policy; she may supply us be mistaken, and not to be encountered highest minister abroad, a c by anybody, however bad and hold; lead our armies in the field, a which we should like to have witnessed dent. This is all very true before now, among a people who ought less so, though it be equally to know what liberty is worth, and how Texas occupies this relation only it can be preserved~ But, be it our ted States, and the United Sta part and duty, as we can and may, once lation to Texas, by a procee~ and again, to place these acts of bold in its very nature, burst the bc usurpation, in formal an4 urgent array, Constitutional control and before our countrymen, that, if possible, and practically set this natio and as far as the nature of the transac- an ocean without a shore. tions will allow, they may yet be met by we cannot help ourselves no a spirit of just and determined hostility, think it as well, and not altor which, before it be too late, may prevent less, since we have slipped their assuming the character of admitted and drifted out from our safe and approved powers. if this cannot be ground and inooring~, never tlone, still our labor may not be wholly them, that we should at least in vain, since it may serve to keep the selves acquainted and familis country advised of the radical changes new position. It were great which are being wrought in the text and that we should fancy ourselve fabric of the written Constitution, and of ing at ease in our own well-. the true Democratic progress~ we are capacious land-locked harbor making towards anarchy and despotism. truth we have gone to sea, We recur, now, to the instances we never were betbre, and may have named, of authority palpably land againhavingtaken care usurped, and boldly used, in order to pre- best chart behind us. 6 The Constitution; written and unwritten. What was this measure of Annexation so called? It was not the purchase of a territory or province, belonging to an- other nation. Texas has not come in, as Louisiana did, by purchase from Fiance, and as Florida did, by purchase from Spain. It is not, as those countries were, an acqn;sition of so many acres and rods of ground, to be added LO the territorial possessions of the U. ited States. Louisiana and Florida were ac- quired by negotiation and treaty, conduct- ed and concluded by the treaty-making power. In those cases, serious difilcul- tiea existed between the United States and France and Spain, respectively; the negotiations had for their object the set- tlement of these difficulties, which was a legitimate business for the treatv-mak- ing power of our Crovernme b ut to engage in: we had large claims on those pow- ers, for debts due our citizens, and for spoliations committed on our commerce, and when they had no money to pay, we agreed to take property from them namely, landat a just valuation. We took Ldnisiana from France, and Florida from Spain, by purchase, and by way of settling and closing up our embarrassing accounts with those countries. So much may always be caid in favor of these purchases, as fair business transactions, and as having some sort of warrant in the Constitution to justify them. We wish, for the sake of the Constitution, that the argument was as conclusive and satisfactory, as it may be plausible. But ~o much certainly is true, that, in no re- spect or degree, can these cases be quo- ted as precedents to covdr and justify the Anmiexation of Texas. Texas was an independent republic, as our own re- pubic wasour equal before the law of nations, arid in the family of nations. The two republics were enited and made one republic, and the separate, identical being of each was merged in the new creation. This x as called the An- nexation of Texas to the United States; it might as well have been called the An- nexation of the United States to Texas. Texas, indeed, agreed to take a subordi- nate position in the new relation, and the new firm was to take the name of the older and wealthier partner; it was to be the United States & Co., and not the United States and Texas, or Texas & Co. Texas agreed to become a State in the Uni- on, on the footing of other States, and in this humble condition to merge her nation- ality. But when Texas made this agree- ment she wasa sovereign and i power, and it may come one serious and embarrassing, if question, between her and States, by what sanction this. to be enforced, if enforced at al is to judge of its infractions. a casus f~deris arise between I one party or the other shall r league at an end, and insist the difiicuitv. if necessary, by to the ullima ratio ? Already has arisen between them, name New Mexico, as conquered or: the American arms, is a part c of Texas, or an independenL province, belonging to the Uni which threatens, by anricipat turb the harmony of the new possibly resolve it again into eign unity of which it has be;. ed. For ourselves, we su with Texas, the question of hei her interests, as against States, will always be one c ability to maintain her ground. insist on her right as an eqo of all questions in dispute never forget that she was on eign; that as a sovereign, a sovereign, the compact was foi placed her in union with thi and she may be expected to be slow to recognize the compete Federal Government to dictat matters where her interests, a~ the compact, may seem to clasi of the opposite party to the he In our humble judgment, t~ ing by which Texas was this Union has never been a: sidered, and is not as xvell ur it ought to be by our peoph shall be excmis~l, therefore, f upon it a moment longer. A so calledwas effected, it in membered, by a compact, or tween sovereign powers, bot regard to it, in their nationa and capacity. And it is wo beringwhile it is utterly de was competent for our Gov negotiate with another natk in any form, for such an objet amalgamating the two nation: that other, into onethat- deemed necessary in this to pay even the poor respect stitution of following the for of proceeding prescribed by tercourse is to be had with 1847.] The Constitution; written and unwritten. power, and a compact, or treaty, is pro- posed. to be made. In the careful par- tition of powers under the Constitution, the duty of negotiating and making trea- ties is assigned to the President, with the advice and consent of two-thirds of the Senate. But in this case, the Congress not inappropriately, perhaps, consider- ing the novelty of the objecttook the matter in hand, and commenced the for- mal negotiation by a projet or proposi- tion, in the shape of a joint resolution, which was passed by a majority in each House, and received the approval and sig- nature of the President. In this pro- ceeding, Congress might be considered as having resolved itself into a conven- tion of delegates, with assumed authori- ty from the people to enter on this extra- ordinary negotiation. It is idle to think of it as a proceeding of Congress, acting under the Constitution. Here was a compact between two sovereign nations by which they agreed to unite and form one nation out of the two, on certain terms. - Can there be any one bold enough to assert that the Constitution authorizes Congress to make such a com- pact in behalf of the United States? It seems to be thought by some that this particular compact was well enough made through the agency of Congress, because, in this case, Texas, yielding up her nationality, consented to take a posi- tion in the new union somewhat below the point of equality, in dignity and pow- er, with the nation to which she joined herself. But the question of authority cannot be affected by the particular terms, or conditions on which a league for in- corporating this nation with another may be formed. Had Congress, or had the government, through any or all its func- tionaries, Constitutional authority on any terms whatever, to melt down and fuse the American nation with another inde- pendent. nation, and so, out of the amal- gam to form a new nation? That is the true question; for the true nature of the transaction was such as we have here stated it. Two independent States, or sovereignties, were incorporated into one by a compact formed between the two while thus independent and sovereign. The uniting of Holland and Belgium, by the treaties of Vienna, was not more an incorporating of two States into one. And if this incorporation between the United States and Texas could be effect- ed on the particular terms of the present compact, it could be effected on other terms as well. It might have just as well, that the Preside should be President of the n rated nation. It was just as so far as the question of authc cerned, for Congress to have the sovereignty of Texas, ins of the quondam United States, vail in the new union. We ing of the question of power written Constitution. If Con incorporate the United States it could do the same thing wi or France; and in ~such a c~ ereigoty over the new incorpc dom, would doubtless be some ently disposed of. So far as concerned Congress could j have undertaken to re-inco States of this Union with the pire, on the old terms of c pendence. Now we know, all the whi measure must be, as it has be ted to and acquiesced in. probably escape from our ne if we would. And this is if actly one of those alarmin which we have before adverh new and extraordinary powe usurped by the government usurpation acquiesced in and almost from the necessity of t the deliber te voice of the na in effect to clothe the govere this newpower in all time to written Constitution to the cc withstandingto be employed and again, it it should see ar for its exercise. A very imp vision this in the unwritten the Constitution of the Unite Perhaps the most serious, c~ most immediate and pressing which could not fail to follow of this high-handed measurc and felt in that series of bold one another instance of assun ity, into which this original n~ hurried the government, as ii exorable fi te, and which it : purpose of this article t6 illustrate. The first of these acts w which the government was m apparent necessity, even befo tion was consummated. Thi employment of the army of States by the unauthorized d the President, for the defence against all her enemies, whiP 8 The Constitution; written and unwritten. still a foreign and independent republic. The projel of the 28th Cou~ ress for An- nexition, expressed distinctly the terms and conditions on which the union or in- corporation might take effect. Whether these term- nd conditions, in the form- mo of a State Constitution, and its adop- tion by the people of Texas, shoeld be duly complied with by that republic, in accept- ing the offer of Annexation. was a mat- ter expressly reserved for the considera- tion and final action o~ the next Con- gress; and it was required that such new Constitution, with the proper evidence of its adoption, should be laid before the 29th Coneress, on or before the Iirst day of Jan- uary, 1 8 16. This final action of the 29th Congress, then, a dffer~nt Congress from that which VA passed the ori~iual resol utie us, was clearly indispensable be- fore Annexation could be coasmumated. Nor did the President, that we know ot~, ever eu~ertain or expres a different opin- ion. Texas was still treated as a foreign and independent power. Time govern- ment ofthe rej)ublic was still maintained, and the President lied his Charg~, Mr. Donelson, still residing near it. Jt is true,~ha Congress of the republic, and her convention of delegates, had given their formal assei)t to the proposed Annex;j.- tioxi; hut no State Constitution had yet beeim formed, and of course there had been no submission of anything to the 29th Congress for its final action, when the President deemed it ~mecessary wholly unauthorized by law or Constitu- tion, to send an army into this foreign country for its military proteetion and do- fence. Texas was now, the President professed to think, so far a part of the United States as to be entitled from this government to defence and protection. Texas wa~ at that period no more a part of the United States than it was before An- nexation had been proposed. It was no more a p iTt of the United States than it was a part of the British E npire. This step was taken, says the President, upon the earnest appeal both of the Congress and conven ion of Texas ; and it had become necessary, to meet a threatened invasion of Texas by the Mexican forces, for which extensive military preparations had been made. But who had authorized him to defend Texas against her enemies, dur- ing the pendency of the negotiations and proceedings in reference to Annexation? Con~ress certainly had done no such thing. It made no part of the proposition submitted to that power in regard to An- nexation, that meanwhile, or a before Texas and the Unit should actually he incorporate nation and people, an alliane and defensive, should exist bm two republics, and the arms c ted States be employed, if nc desired, in her defence. And the enemies of Texas, at any I she remained an independeni were to be deemed tIme enemies ted States, and war was to be them accordingly, it belonged to and Congress alone, to make th tion. But that was a question it was not thought quite pr ConTress should be entrusted. mirht have shrunk from the of Annexation if they had bor face an anticipation of war of a war to be undertaken ii Texas even before she should incorporate part of the Uni President, however, saw this and boldly met it. If rpexae invaded, as was then appreb of course would have followed of that republic, by the nakc order of the President. Our it to ye been on the soil of a form try, doing battle, side by side forces of that country, agains ders, and all this by comma President, without any decen or pretext o authority from or time law or the Constitution The President insists, in j of this proceeding, that, nude cumstances, it was plainly extend our protection over and soil of Texas ; our duty of the United States. But wh Executive the sole judge of Who gave him the right to ~z his own mere motion, to do, c be done, whatever he may think it the deity of the countr take? Is he to declare or whenever he may happen to duty of the country to go to short, is his sense or notion of in all timings his sole coust ut: in the discharge of his otlic sense of duty, or what he ma) offer to the country as such, Constitution instead of tim strument ? We have presuted this cas (listinetly and at laroe half fe we are afraid it is already by try, Leause, although Texas - 15474 The Constitutiot~ written and unwritten. fact invaded pending the proceedings in regard to Annexation, and so, as it hap- pened, there was nothing for our army there to do in her defence, yet, besides that the act of the Executive was not a whit the less reprehensible for that reason, this very act it was, undoubtedlythis act of imperial authority exercised over the army of the United States in moving it beyond the proper limits of the country, and within a forei~n jurisdictionwhich emboldened the President, probably in the belief that this show of force on his part in Texas had had the effect to turn aside the threatened purpose of invasion from Mexico, to push his experiment still farther, and carry forward his menace of war into the propar possessions of that power, and up to t e gates of o~e of her principal cities. P~obably he thought, in his pride and v~nity of power, once used with apparent effect, that if he now pressed on, bearing this same front of frowning War, belted and helmeted for ready action, full into the presence and face of Mexico, he might thus secure advantfges to wards the acquisition of coveted territories, far beyond the limits of any just claim of boundary on our part, which Mexico, frightened from her propriety, might be induced to yield to his imperative and haughty demands! At any rate, it was no very difficult step for the President, having, as comm. uder- in-chief of the army, once thrown the Constitution behind him, to go from the proposed and attempted employment of the military power in defending the pro- per soil of one foreign nation from inva- sion, to the invasiQn himself of the proper possessions of another foreign n. tion, with as little just pretence of authority or right in the latter case as in the former. We have heretofore, in this journal, explained and exhibited, in a pretty am- ple manner, the way in which our war with Mexico was brought on by the act of the President, and with how little of justification or excuse. We sba~i not repeat what we have before felt it our duty to say on this subject. Our present business is with this proceeding as it affects the Constitution of the country. Nor shall we need to dwell on the sub- ject in this point of view. Everybody knows that the pow~r of war is not lodged with the President by the written Instru- ment, but with Congress; and that if the President actually incdcas war, whether it is formally declared or not, it is done without authority. Such an our government ought to be highest crime which any c commit. Treason is not so and deadly an offence. The self, indeed, is treason of the though not within the stats tion, since it subverts the and the government, by a s Now we do not hesitate to de and again, as we have done I beyond all doubt or cavil, tb. is responsible for this xvar; it on by his own act, or it a on by acts done under his made the war. He sent an cupy a country, then in the possession of Mexico, as it sincd she became a nation, she claimed as her own by an title, with orders tofighifor ii should offer to dispute the by force of arms. Mexico pute the possession, arid th. begun. The President we fore, made the war. The art marched into the Mexican de. Tamnaulipas, and up to the R. in the performance of any dW on the Executive by the Con laws. No obligation of offic. or permitted, him to make or hostile movement. It was no the United Smates which he to defend. The territory did to the United States, and we. possession; and if we had claim to it at all, it was one ( much more than of right, ant it might be, though ever so st was a strong claim of right o~ side, accompanied by actual constantly maintained for l which would not be yielded mand of right on our part, end of a bloody and hopele~ This consideration aloneu possession by Mexico, an ar session, with an undoubting of clear titleis enough to[ forever all attempts to jnstif~ ceeding by the President, on ground that the territory was must be defended by our at and every other part of the soil. All our ownership of tb was a naked claim of title, adverse possession with a cIa quite as strongly insisted on a~ and this was the American a the President said, in his ins 10 The Constitution; written and unwritlen. the commander of the army, must be protected from hostile invasion by iViexi- Ca! Mexico was expected to invade her own possessions! and on this absurd pretence, so insulting to an intelligent country, the President would justify his own invasion of those possessions, and his orders to make war for their conquest and subjugation, on the least attempt by Mexico to defend and protect them. If a territory, in dispute between this coun- try and any other, were wholly vacant and unoccupied, who would venture to maintain that the President would have a right, without the direction of Con- gress, to attempt to take military posses- sion of it, with the moral certainty of bringing on a war? surely, no one. But such an attempt, made under a naked claim of title, in reference to territory in the actual holding, occupation and cul- ture of an adverse party, would, of itself, be an act of war. A demand on the highway, to stand and deliver, with a hand on the throat and a pistol at the breast, would not be more unequivocal. The adverse party has but one alterna- tiveto yield at discretion, or to fight. In either case it is an act of hostility and war on the part of the assailant. But the truth is, this matter is too plain for argument, when the facts are under- stood; and so ~vould be considered uni- versally, if it were not so difficult for us generally to bring our minds to believe that any President of these United States, in the face of the plain provisions of the Constitution, would dare deliberately to take on himself the authority and re- sponsibility of making war. So, never- theless, Mr. Polk has done, beyond a possible doubt. So, beyond a doubt, has the written Constitution been subverted, for the timeand who knows but for all time ?and the most delicate and dan- gerous power in it, been seized and wield- ed by the Executive as his personal pre- rogative. No one, certainly, need be shocked or surprised, after this beginning, if the war should be found to be prosecuted. with as complete a disregard of the restraints of the Constitution, in reference to the means employed for carrying it on, as was shown in getting the country into it. If the Executive can make war, we do not know why he should not be permitted at least he must be expectedto prose- cute it after his ownindependent fashion. What he has actually done has been to organize and employ a species of military force, which, as a force t~ be e~ a war of invasion and foreign is utterly unknown to the Ct and forbidden, indeed, by its w and spirit. The war, be it remembered from the beginning, a very ma acter, as one of invasion and It was begun by an invasion of able homes of the citizens of the Mexican State of Taman from4he hour the first blow WC: has been waged exclusively o ground, and has been carried, into the interior, and towards t that republic. Not for one mc it been a defensive war in any degree. No hostile foot has a or threatened the proper soil a sions of the United States. C of exico it has been wholly She has had all she could do, a deal more than she could do, her own territories, and she dreamed of invading the Unit or engaging, in any way, in operations on the land. It is n to conceive of a war more marked in this respect,than t.i Being wholly an offensive part, (we use the term, offens well-understood legal accept: one, of course, will pretend for that the militia of the country employed in it, except by a sumption of authority to that defiance of the plain provisio written Constitution. For an of defence in and about a line of between this country ~nd an~ across that linethe purpo~e a tion still being, in effect, dL militia might be employed. Bi force can be used where the wh is, as it was in this case, to carr~ sive and aggressive war to thc an enemys country, and wh operation of the war, even fin act of collision and bloodshed, from the proper soil and posn the United States. Nothing can than that the militia, in the cont of the Constitution, is wholly a force. In the first place, in its tion and uses, it is wholly a St except when it is handed by United States for cert~in specific It is the home-guard of the S~ their only arm of defence. TW allowed to have any other. expressly prohibited from keepi 1847.] The Constitution; wriUen and unwritten. a regular armyin time of peace, ex- cept by consent of Congress, which never has been and never would be granted; and they cannot engage in war, unless actually invaded, or in imminent danger of invasion. But the militia is their own and so exclusively their own, that, even when it chances to be employed in the service of the United States, it can have no officers but of their appointment, and ~an receive no training but under their authority. There is no such thing, and can be no such thing, as the militia of the United States; there is no general force of this description existing without re~ard to State lines. Each State has its militia, which is as distinct from the militia of every other State, as the army of England is distinct from the army of France. To secure uniformity and effi- ciency, Congress is authorized to pro- vide by law, for organizing, arming and disciplining the militia, anc[ for govern- ing such part of them as may be em- ployed in the service of the United States ;~ but all this is still made ex- pressly subject to the authority of the States in supplying the officers, and giving direction and application to the discip- line, and to the government of the force when in actual service. Nor was it without very express rea- sons that the militia was so carefully reserved to the States, and the authority for its employment in the service of the General Government limited and re- stricted in so peculiar a manner. It Was a point of great delicacy, and great jea- lousy on the part of the States. The military power of the Federal Govern- inent was, at the time, looked upon with great distrust, and not without some alarm, guarded and limited as it was. And if, in addition to its own appropriate, because necessary, authority, to raise and support armies, and provide a navy, and to make war, that government had also been clothed with a general or su- perior power over the militia, no one who has made himself at all acquainted with the history of the times, can entertain a doubt that the Constitution would have been promptly rejected by the people. Hamiltons proposition, in the Convention of 1787, that the whole militia should be under the sole and exclusive direc- tion of the United States, the officers of avhich to be appointed and commissioned by them, would have met with as little favor as another part of his plan of guy- rument, which was that the Chief Exe cutive should be elected to s good behavior. Even an to give the appointment of tF officers to the Federal Gow ceived no countenance in tF tion. The occasions on which may be called into the serv government are very exactly of course no others are allow militia is thus called into serv be for one or another of these namely, to execute the la Union ; to suppress insurrc to repel invasions. If er that service on any other necs any other object, it is a palpal tiona usurpation of milit once thought the most dangc forms of usurpation, and the ing act of despotism. Yet this has been done in the prosecul wretched war with Mexico. military power is usurped by tive, in the making of the war, followed up by employing a ki for carrying it on, which is nied to the government, in si by the plainest provisions of tution. The last enterprise, which was intended to be encc this government, was that of in war, and, least of all, in wa sion and conquest. The Coust very carefully and closely co government, in all such wars, of its own regular army, and, with the deliberate and wise tion, that the more difficult it found to raise an army for si pose, and provide for its so better every way. And it is startle the men of the Constit their graves, that the country in so short a time, to behold the of a war of foreign invasion and as little excusable in its origi jects as any that could be con actually prosecuted by the g with a principal reliance, not c per army of that government, militia of the States. We h spectacle of a successful appes the prompt and unreflecting p and the military ardor and .a the people in the States, stim they often are, or easily may be, not with what hopes of person tion or personal profit, who rus. to place themselves und6r the of the national Executive, for 12 The Constitution; written and unwritten. a foreign land, awl in an aggressive war. It is a case to demonstrate, if ever there was ono, that it is no idle apprehension in which wise men have always indulged, in regard to the (langers necessarily at- taching to the military power in a repub- lic, and where there is a gallant and patriotic people to respond to its appeals, when we see what has actually been done in the use of this power, and the monstrous lengths of usurj)ation to which it has been pushed by the present E~ecu- tive of the United Statesthe feeblest, out of all comparison, that the country has ever had. The militia has been mustered into service, in this war, in a way designed to evade the Constitution and escape the responsibility of its violation. By calling for volunteers~~ it seems to have been calculated that the public would get the impression that this was a kind of force different from militia, and if not regular United States troops, yet something very like them. But they were militia after all. They were soldiers who might ~o- lunteer from the ranks, or body, of the militia in the several States, having their officers created and appointed by the authority of the States, respectively, to which the companies, or corps,. of volun- teers belonged. They were mustered into the service of the United States, not en- !isted; and in that service they were commanded by their own ofilcerscom- pany, battalion and fieldhaving their sole authority and commission from the respective States. It is simply absurd to talk of any military corps as United States troojr, when the officers in imme- diate command derive, their commission, not from the Government of the United States, bat from that of a State. A mili- tary officer, commissioned by the Gover- nor of a State, and commanding a corps raised under State authority, is not an officer of the Federal Government, and does not command United States troops. They are State troops, and he is a State officer, and that is all that can be made of them. And they are militia, and nothing but militia. No State has any other troops hut militia; and the government of the United States has no authority to employ, for any purpose, any other kind of State troops, if there were any such, but militia. Nothing can be plainer than that the Constitution limits the military power of the Fedetal Government to the employment, first, of its own army, raised and provided with odicers by its own ex clusive authority, and next, (when militia may be employ all,) called into the service States. All the volunteers in war have been and are militia, a else. They are State troops commissioned by State autho litia. Many of the companies have been mustered into sin. as they stood, officers and m ranks of the militia at home. Nor is the character of changed at all from the fact ti officers, bearing State commis not been called into service the militia. The Goverumer fit to select, appoint and com own general officers. They in the army of the United Sta commissioned, and in no res cers of militia or of voluntee the employment of militia, ca teers, in the present war, justi cused by any example of the ci or proposed employment, of vo the public service, at any pe past history. There have hem instances of volunteer organ service. Sometimes . they troops of the United States, w appointed and commissioned, a by Federal authority. Thes much troops of the United those of the line of the reg Every soldier was an enrolled s9ldier of the United States. frequently, these volunteer f been mustered, or proposed tered, into the service of I States, with their State officer militia; and these were milit thing else, just as the volunte the present war are militia, a else. The difference in the c in no instance, until the prese. a volunteer force as this lasi litia, been employed, or prop employed, by the General C for any service or purpose, b cute the laws of the Union, press insurrections, or to sioxis; in no instance, until has such a force, being milil thing else, been called into th the United States, to carry for of invasion and conquest jr land. And the responsibility of if ing rests with the President. duct and management of the his hands. Congress gave hi~ 1847.1 The constitution; written and unwritten. to accept the services of 60,000 volun- teer militia, upon his appeal to it for such a force, and upon the allegation that war had heen hegun, and American blood had been shed on American soil. The country must, of course, be defended, and nothing is better, or more appropriate, than militia, with which to drive invaders from its soil. We certainly could have wished, that, while Congress was grant- ing the most liberal supplies of men and mone~r, at the demand of the President, the truth should have been insisted on, instead of echoing, though by a kind of compulsion, a false allegation, and some security taken, which mi h t easily have been done, that the means and forces placed at his command, should not be im- properly and unconstitutionally applied and employed. Still the responsibility rests on him. He has taken upon him- self .to prosecute a foreign war, in a for- eign land, and for purposes of conquest, and to employ the militia of the country in this service. And so far as his exam- ple can go, and at any rate while power remains in his hands, the Constitutional Testriction on the employment of militia is abro~ated, and a new unwritten provi- sion substituted, to the effect that militia may be employed in ~var, not only to re- pel invasion, but to make invasion, and prosecute foreign conquests. The next usurpation in order, in the conduct of this war, was that by which the President h: s claimed the right in all cases of territorial conquest, to be deemed himself the conquercr, and, by his own unaided authority, to establish and administer governments over the conqiered countries. On this particular tOj)ic, however, we shall not now add anything, but content ourselves with re- ferring the reader back to an article in the March number of this RevieW,* where the subject has been fully discuss- ed and exposed. A reference to that ar- ticle will show how flagrant and bold this usurpation has been, and a little reflec- tion will serve to convince every candid mind, that if the Constitution is now to be taken with this notable amendment, a vast progressive movement has indeed been made, all in the name of Democra- cy, towards despotic power. 4 But the President has lately gone a step further, in his usurpations, and per- formed the crowning act of all. Pro- ceeding on the same beautiful idea, of easy assurance, that he, by v office, is to be deemed, per~ conqueror of all provinces which may submit to the p American arms, he has gone establish a re~ular system fo1 tion of duties on imports, undm tariff, in all the ports and plac ico, of which the army has tary possession. It is the conqueror (he says) to levy c upon the enemy, in their seap or provinces, which may be tary possession by conquest, a the same to defray the expe war. The conqueror possess also to establish a t~mpora~ government over such seap or provinces, & c. And th~ the President, hem the cor acts a tariff of duties on all merchandise admitted into . and which is invited to cone all nations, the United Shrtc appoints his collectors and no tom-house officers, makes h chest his independent treasury dent indeedand dirncts that tions be paid into it, from whi ney is to be drawn, as he shall prescribe or allow, for carryi his war of invasion and conqo The President finds it con see no distinctionbetween the tary occupation of a positior in an enemys country, in ti. and the complete possession vince, or town, held under con the full right and actual c sovereignty and civil jurisdi little does he distinguish be rights and duties of a comma field as a conqueror, and the duties of a sovereign who, b conquest, takes, possession of; or town, subdued by his arrr ceives the submission of its ~s the subjects of his rightf ment. A military command field is the master, under the la of the post or place he occu conqueror. It is his camp fi~ being, and the law of the cam Jt may embrace a whole tow But his authority, though arbi summary in its tone and ~ not unlimited. It is restrict~ military law under which he commission; and the military i Vol. ~ No. Ill. p. 217. 14 The Coiistitution; written and unwritten. United States is mainly a written code. carefully digested, and regularly enacted by Congress. Where it is manifeAly de- fective on applying it in practice, no doubt the unwritten martial law may be resort- ed to. But no authority can be exercised under the name of martial law, except such as has for its object, or keeps pro- minently in view, the principal, and in- deed only design with which martial law is established, or toleratednamely, the security and preservation of the camp and the army. This authority has the actual commander in the field, or in camp, acting nder the orders of his su- perior officer, if he have any. The Pre- sident is commander-in-chief of the army, and a commander in the field, or in camp, acts under his general orders; but if he were actually himself in the field, or in camp, he could exercise no military au- thority over or about the camp, which could not equally be exercised by any other commander. An orderly-sergeant, if the eldest officer present, and in com- mand, would have the same authority; and he could not have more if he ,were a field-marshal. As commander-in-chief of the army, the Presidents authority is pnrely military, whether personally in the field or out of it, and it is as much restricted by the military law, as that of any other commander. Just so much authority thenjust so much govern- mentas any actual commander, in pos- session of a post or place in an enemys country, may lawfully exercise, thePre- sident, as commander-in-chief, may exer- cise, or cause to be exercised under his orders. And beyond this lie cannot go, except by leaving the Constitution be- hind him. The limited nature of this military au- thority, or government, we have indica- ted already. It is the government of a camp, and has for its object the regula- tion and security of the cainp. Its pro- per subjects are soldiers, or the inmates of a camp. It may extend its jurisdic- tion, as in a city, according as the neces- sity of the case shall demand; that is to say, the camp may be enlarged so as to embrace all whom it may be necessary to bring within military supervision and control, in order to the proper govern- ment and security of the camp. But it is evident that a military government, in the Presidents view, is something very different from this. Witness his or- ders and the disgraceful proceedings under them in regard to New Mexico and Call- fornia. All the functions of c ment were assumed in those ~ complete civil jurisdictionar as far as the new fnnctionar~ ability to establish their po have lately heard of sanguir tions in one of them, up~on jr victions, for sedition or big Indeed the avowed purpose v sider and treat these provinc quered countries, where enti siori to the conqu~ring pow sovereign, was exacted. An edly, in such a case, it is n right, but the duty, of the new to establish his government, a adequate to the protection an his new subjects, so long as ty shall last. This is what dent is pleased to denominate government. It is only mi is in military hands. It is a c ment, with as ample powers, to exercise them, as any gov the world. But everybody r who knows even the alphabet stitution, that Congress, an alone, has authority to set up ernm~nt as this in any territo~ or town, belonging to the Uni and a conquered territory, town, if really taken posse: hold as an acque~t of war, b~ United States, if to anybody. it does not belong to the Pres seems to suppose, any more I to any actual commander u the conquest is made. It hel sovereignand the President been acknowledged soverem, country. He makes himself ever, as far as he cana mm eign, superseding the civil pc he assumes the scle right ment over countries, or plac by the American arms. Ir ment, it is conclusive on thc and the whole military pow gress has made no express i: taking formal possession of might be conquered by our a governing them, as the rightfm that Congress does not intl war shall be made a war of all. And hence, in such a tent of his duty and power, in the war offensively, supposin sive war allowable at all on I tion, is to conquer the armies mx in the field, capture places and strongholds, w 1847.j TIze Constitution; written and unwritten. public spoil as can be found in them, and entering his chief cities, and his capital, perhaps, convert them into convenient quarters, and camping grounds, for the conquering army, and of course, laying them, for the time, under martial law. Here his power of military govern- ment would begin and end. But the President has little relish for such moder- ate notions as these. He began the war for conquest, and never having dared to ask Con~ress to give a direct sanction to any such project, he has found, or thought himself obliged to do everything, so far as this object was concerned, in his own way, and by his own usurped authority. It is manifest that, in establishing a commercial code, and a tariff, for the sea- ports of Mexico, captured and occupied by our military forces, the President has acted, not as a mere military commander, but as a political sovereign. He chooses to regard these seaports, not merely as places under military occupation by our troops, where they have their garrison and caiiip for the time, with all needful authority in the commander, under the military law, for the government and preservation of his army and camp, and for internal and external police, but as places held, by him, the President, as both conqueror and sovereign, and sub- ject to his exclusive and undisputed po- litical authority in all things, or so far as he may see fit to exercise it. Under this authority, and treating the sea-ports as his own, for all purposes of sovereign control and gevernment, he proceeds to the exercise of civil and sovereign pow- er in one of its most important functions, by establishing regulations for the trade of all nations with those ports, enacting a tariff of duties to be paid on all mer- chandise and produce entered there, and thus raising a revenue for the supply of his exchequer. They are no longer Mex- ican ~ blockaded by our Navy, and shut up from the trade of the world; but they are American, or independent ports, under the sovereignty of the President, and open to the trade of the world. .Mexico is to be supplied through them, Iy a grand system of illicit commerce and smuggling, encouraged and promo- ted by tue new sovereign of the inde- pendent ports, who is thus to secure the benefits of large importations, and an ample revenue. And that these are in- dependent ports, and not ports of the United States, any more than they ~re Mexican ports, is plain enou~- fact that cargoes entering thc United States are as much su as cargoes from England or F trade to them from New Orle York, is a forcian trade and ing trade, arid pays duties a If they were ports of the Un this would of course be acoa: and, on the other hand, if Mexican ports, citizens of States, as subjects of one of rent powers, could not trade w all, without being liable to t~ penaltiesunless, indeed, by permission of the goverumen tainly, by the permission of dent. What a spectacle is hc ed to the country? The P the United States assuming eignty over the ports of the my, occupied by American there actually levying duties of American citizens, which thither, as. well as the trade c countries, amid putting the col to his own independent treasi~ too, being in fact a trade, and ly intended, with Mexico, through these ports, and bet and the interior, by illicit mear whether direct or indirect, American citizens are utterly engage, while the two countries without special permission fro petent authorities of their govc And the President delibea poses, by these means, to attai pendent revenue, for the exper war. The plan was expected productive, and to yield som The collections made under n pervision, whatever they are, to the military chest. They a~ counted for by the collecto~. official rescript, not to the tre to the Secretaries of the wa navy, respectively. So far as lections xiiay go, the President tam a war independently e~ tl~ ment. He is not to depend drawn from the treasury of States, amid which could only b pursuance of appropriations law, but he is to go to his ow~ supplied by an independent re~ rived from a regular system 01 or imposts, levied and collected personal and sovereign~ am places beyond the jurisdictio tinited States! Is it possible 16 The Constitution; written and unwritten. gance and despotism to go further than this? And then the country is told that this is nothing but levying military contri- butions on the enemy. If this were so and it is hardly better than an insult to an intelligent people to set up such a pretenceyet if this were so, how comes it that the administration is now found avowing an intention of levying contri- butions on the enemy, after its repeated proclamation, and declarations to that en- emy, that private property should be re- spected, and nothing demanded or taken without making just and full compensa- tion? Protection and full security to the persons and propert.y of the peaceable in- habitants of conquered towns and pro- vinces, has conie to be the recognized doctrine and declared practice of modern civilized nations, not to be departed from, except in very special cases, which cer~ tainly do not exist in this war. Are the United States to suffer the disgrace of being the first, in recent times, to set an example. to the contrary? As for con- tributions levied on a conquered country, they are never allowed by the modern usage and law oP nations, but as a mild substitute for pillage, or the confiscation of property. Contributions are demand- ed and received by way of relief and re- demption from these severer measures, and of course are never resorted to, but when otherwise such harsh proceedings as pillage or confiscation would be justi- fied, either by way of special punishment, or on account of some urgent, temporary necessity. But what is there in com- mon between military contributions and this notable plan of the Presidents for raising an independent and permanent revenue, by commercial taxation, for the support and prosecution of the war? Taxation is a measure of government, and an act of sovereignty. It is some- thing very different from pillage, or a forced contribution, received as a relief from pillage. This act when permitted at all, is an act of war, by militory com- manci, to meet some particular necessity or exigency of xvar, and is temporary in its purpose and action. It has its direct opcration on a present enemy, and is commonly exhausted in a single act. But how absurd and how pitiful, to talk of the proceeding we are now consider- ing, as one of military contribution. This is a system of commercial regula- tion and taxation, as regular, and nearly as elaborate, as that which controls com~. merce, and supplies reven- whole United Statesa syst ing, or designed to prevail an all the principal sea-ports, thri a great country, of eight or of people, receives its forein and which are held as places in war and subject to the poli eignty of the conquerora taxation and revenue, design least as permanent as the war whomsoever it concerns, i consumer, citizen or strange enemy, and such a system as regular government, in the full sovereignty, could enact u And the government which dc exercises this sovereignty, is~ dent of the United States! But we must bring this a close. Our object has been the attention of the country, to the manner in which the on ten Constitution is becoming soured and subverted, by the of new and extraordinary pov quietly submitted to, or only rebuked, and so that, in effect tially new Constitution is prac ing the place of the original which, though partly unwritte to become just as potent and tive, and just as binding on thz if these new features had bee it, by regular amendments a cording to the prescribed an mode of making ameudme make this matter as plain and hensible as possible, and shc view, how bravely we are this business, and what kind Oi tution is growing up to our shall conclude this article by d in order, and in the form amendments to the text of tV instrument, the provisions Prof those new powers which, as shown, have lately been a~: usurped and exercised by U ment at Washington. A amendments, they aught stand in this form I. Congress shall have powe porate the United States with people or country, on such I conditions as may be ngreedom 11. The President shall have to employ the army of the Uni in the defence of any fereigi threatened with invasion, at his. III. The President shall havc 1847.] Unpublished Poems by James Staunton Babcock. to make war on any foreign nation by in- vading its possessions; provided only that this be done under pretext of some claim of title to those possessions. IV. The Militia of the States, called into service as volunteers, may be em- ployed by the President in prosecuting wars of invasion and foreign conquest. V. The President shall have authority to govern, in complete sovereignty, any territory, province or place, taken and occupied by the military forces of the United Spites, and in such manncr as he may ene fit. VI. In any port or place, taken and on- cupied by the forces of the Un the President may establish regulations, and a tariff of do ports, for the purpose of raisii pendent revenue, to be used military purposes, in his sole and for which he shall not be accountability. These provisions, thus hr juxtaposition, and set down in. serve to show what a prodigio Progressive Democracy has is likely to make, in giving ne to the Constitution, and especi ing a new and fearful import a carice to Executive power. UNPUBLISHED POEMS BY JAMES STAUNTON BNBCOOK. The following poems are by a person deceased, with whom we were intimate man of rare mmd mind attainments, and a singularly simple and earnest spirit. Tl~ of his poems are pecaliar. They are built somewhat upon antique models, and to have brcn affected in a measure by the authors German studies; but their em plicity and truthfulness will command attention in an age whose poetry, like mne)rality, is growin to be artificial, shallow, and false in sentiment. Numa an- sal The Road-Song of Earths Travellers, published in the Review sotne ni were by the same author, who was then living. Mr. Babcock graduated at Yale 1810; he died at his home, Coventry, Connecticut, in April of the present year. Rsvizw. ODE TO SLEEP. s~co~ I~)fJ4iJ gxO05~ rm~cdwv, Ei3uziuv, 6~vc4 x. er. X. SOPH. PHILocT., 827. SPIRIT mild of mystic slumber, Now with wizsrd spell lay by, Galling cares and loads that cumber, Soothing sense and sealing eye. Come in blue and starry mantle, Wave thy downy.feathered wing, Wave with touch all soft and gentle, Dewy o:er each living thing Brains with thou~ht in hot toil throbbing, Lids by light long filled and pained, Hearts oercome for joy or sobbing, Nerves in ease or toil oerstrained. Come with lull of hrooklets flowing, Lonely break of distant seas, Rain-drops, win I, or late herds lowing, Lisptng leaves or humming bees. Come with scent of piny highlands, Or palm grove of spicy zone; Come with breath of suitimer islands, Whence the evening winds have blown. Come with raven hair rich braid From the moonshin& s watery Hush my couch, sky-hovering Sing me all thy happiest dren Dreams through cloudy gateway To a high and beauteous clita Dazzling vistas faint foreshadin Scenes beyond the scenes of For in thy sweet hand are given All the treashres of the night~ Keys that ope the doors of heav On the wearied, earth-worn si Come, Eves bed with bright wreathing, While thick dusk the East-lai Stay till sweet Moriis breath oe lag Wake to life the warbling hill: From the Orient, tireless rover, Dark behind the shadowed sun Thou long realms liast wandered And [heir daily works are don Caravans in deserts tenting, Men in cot or hustling town, Prayer~ess, or the past repenting, Vexed or calm have laid them

James Staunton Babcock Babcock, James Staunton Unpublished Poems 17-19

1847.] Unpublished Poems by James Staunton Babcock. to make war on any foreign nation by in- vading its possessions; provided only that this be done under pretext of some claim of title to those possessions. IV. The Militia of the States, called into service as volunteers, may be em- ployed by the President in prosecuting wars of invasion and foreign conquest. V. The President shall have authority to govern, in complete sovereignty, any territory, province or place, taken and occupied by the military forces of the United Spites, and in such manncr as he may ene fit. VI. In any port or place, taken and on- cupied by the forces of the Un the President may establish regulations, and a tariff of do ports, for the purpose of raisii pendent revenue, to be used military purposes, in his sole and for which he shall not be accountability. These provisions, thus hr juxtaposition, and set down in. serve to show what a prodigio Progressive Democracy has is likely to make, in giving ne to the Constitution, and especi ing a new and fearful import a carice to Executive power. UNPUBLISHED POEMS BY JAMES STAUNTON BNBCOOK. The following poems are by a person deceased, with whom we were intimate man of rare mmd mind attainments, and a singularly simple and earnest spirit. Tl~ of his poems are pecaliar. They are built somewhat upon antique models, and to have brcn affected in a measure by the authors German studies; but their em plicity and truthfulness will command attention in an age whose poetry, like mne)rality, is growin to be artificial, shallow, and false in sentiment. Numa an- sal The Road-Song of Earths Travellers, published in the Review sotne ni were by the same author, who was then living. Mr. Babcock graduated at Yale 1810; he died at his home, Coventry, Connecticut, in April of the present year. Rsvizw. ODE TO SLEEP. s~co~ I~)fJ4iJ gxO05~ rm~cdwv, Ei3uziuv, 6~vc4 x. er. X. SOPH. PHILocT., 827. SPIRIT mild of mystic slumber, Now with wizsrd spell lay by, Galling cares and loads that cumber, Soothing sense and sealing eye. Come in blue and starry mantle, Wave thy downy.feathered wing, Wave with touch all soft and gentle, Dewy o:er each living thing Brains with thou~ht in hot toil throbbing, Lids by light long filled and pained, Hearts oercome for joy or sobbing, Nerves in ease or toil oerstrained. Come with lull of hrooklets flowing, Lonely break of distant seas, Rain-drops, win I, or late herds lowing, Lisptng leaves or humming bees. Come with scent of piny highlands, Or palm grove of spicy zone; Come with breath of suitimer islands, Whence the evening winds have blown. Come with raven hair rich braid From the moonshin& s watery Hush my couch, sky-hovering Sing me all thy happiest dren Dreams through cloudy gateway To a high and beauteous clita Dazzling vistas faint foreshadin Scenes beyond the scenes of For in thy sweet hand are given All the treashres of the night~ Keys that ope the doors of heav On the wearied, earth-worn si Come, Eves bed with bright wreathing, While thick dusk the East-lai Stay till sweet Moriis breath oe lag Wake to life the warbling hill: From the Orient, tireless rover, Dark behind the shadowed sun Thou long realms liast wandered And [heir daily works are don Caravans in deserts tenting, Men in cot or hustling town, Prayer~ess, or the past repenting, Vexed or calm have laid them 18 Unpublished Poems by James Staunton Babcock. Thou hast walked the princely palace, Feast, and dance, and bridal-train; Sweetened Sorrows bitter chalice; Smoothed the bed for limbs of pain; Stilled the feet in lIken chamber; Won fair children from their play, Birds that wing, or beasts that clamber Air or steep as free as they. Thou hast roamed oer savage ridges, Where great streams their wells mum; Listening, paced earths utmost edges, Where no fires on hearth-stones burn. Blessings thine reach all Gods creatures, High or humble, wild or tame; Shildess Fortune changes features, Thou, sweet friend, art still the same. Dove of Peace, pure virtue serving, Bride unwooed to sinless heart, Neer may bosom undeserving Buy with wealth, or win by art. MARY. SWEET, simple tenderness of tone, rhat dearest English name doth hold, Bringine rich peaceful feelings flown And fair young fancies fresh from old, Like flocks to the hearts evening fold. Now low and lulling steals the sound, Like summer brooklets busy trill, Or waters warbling under ground When fields in slumbering nooti are still, And peace sweet natures heartdc~th fill. Now soft the gush as falling snow, Or shower where rainy April shines, Or small birds chaunt, which faint winds blow At sundown through a ridge of pines, And earth with heaven in one combines. A type of loving earnestness, 01 gentle soul and faithful eyes, And beauty born to win and bless, Within that pensive music lies, That tells the heart its sympthies. A pledge of sinlessness and youth An earthly form that whispers heaven, In art!ess looks and virgin truth, In all the grace to woman given To draw us whence our sin hath dri- ven. A glimpse of one the heart w To its fond self till self it g A face so full to sooth all pain To look each greeting or ad And sunlifes home its sojoui These symbols dear are in thy Thyself the substance all at Which seeing who our ch( blame? That name and self in hear A prize to love and ponder TO A GROUP OF ChILI SMALL men and women blosso Types of a golden age, Of Heavens first children in th And Edens heritage. Ye seem new flown from & sphere, On earth a while to play; hark your airy tones, and fe Sudden ye soar away. Yet human shapes, so fair, so Sweet Grace untrained of a~ Gods tanguage fills each warbl His smile each face and hes And smiles on all your bright And love they every one. There doubt no cold distrust P Nor dimmed Hopes mornir Yeve learned not yet tis all Your whole sweet selves t Untaught that prudence is dir Ye tell all truth ye know. Pure ones, your feelings all ii Your souls untouched by Ye keep first innocence unst~ First simple faith sublime. Such once the holy Saviour For such in heaven he koc And they are greatest, wisest Who most resemble you. I fain would take you to my lAriIh full and strong carer So lif& s dry springs one gush Of former blessedness. Ab go, sweet forms, uk bright, Yeve crossed my pathwa My heart shall fleasure lon~ Mine eyes will meet no ir 1847.] Hon. George Evaus. HON. GEORGE EVANS. GREAT abilities, and a long career of useful public service, do not always en- sure extended or general celebrity. Pub- lic labors, demanding patient investiga- tion, elaborate research, careful analysis, and great power of generalization7 are not of the class which win immediate or wide renown. Such labors oftentimes produce no present or early effect. The results are contingent and remote; conse- quently the magnitude and importance of effects are overlooked. One of the most remarkable instances of great intellectual endowments, large and varied acquire- ments, long experience in the councils of the nation, public services highly appre- ejated, and universally acknowledged at Washington. without creating a corres- ponding national reputation, is that of George Evans, of Maine. As a statesman of profound wisdom and forecast, a legislator fitted for all the practical purposes of conducting the gov- ernment, Mr. Evans has rarely had his equal in Congress. And yet, there are men in the nation, of inferior talents, and less experience in public affairs, who are better known, and attract more of public notice than he does. The reason of this is obvious. The qualities of Mr. Evans mind are all solid and useful; there is nothing showy or ornamental about hini. Although a very eftective and fhient de- bater, with a fine elocution, his speeches are more distinguished by power of argu- ment, close logical demonstration, and appositeness of illustration, than the graces of oratory, or the decorations of a luxuriant imagination~ His style is chaste and severe; with great command of lan- guage, his kno~vledge of its weight and value is perfect; thus rendering precision and perspicuity the great characteristics of his argumentative efforts. On all ques- tions relating to political economy and the financial concerns of the country, Mr. Evans is probably better informed than any man now in public life. In the great tariff discussion of 1846, in the Senate, Mr. Webster, after refer- ring to what he termed the incompara- ble speech of Mr. Evans, said And now, Mr. President, since my at- tention has been thus called to that speech, and since the honorable member has re- VOL. VLNO. I. 2 minded us that the period of within these walls is about to take this occasion, even in the in his own presence, to say, that ment will be a serious loss to t~ ment and this country. He h~. teen or eighteen years in the vice. He has devoted himself to studying and comprehendir~ nue and finances of the couni~ understands that subject as w gentleman connected with the g since the days of Crawford ar Nay, as well as either of those ever understood it. I hope he I am glad to know that he will one session more; that we mr benefit of his advice and assist~ financial crisis which, in my sure to arise if this war contini bill should pass. And I can or retire when he will, he will him the good wishes of every this body; the general esteem of the country; and (placir upon his heart, and bowing to the cordial attachment of his litical and personal. This exalted encomium w~- in by the most discriminati both sides of the Senate; ma. have taken occasion to speat hors in equally flattering terw them may be mentioned M houn, Woodbury, Cass, Me Sevier. With these general obse, proceed to give a brief sketch lic life. Mr. Evans was born J 1797. He graduated at 13o lege in 1815; and after a th paration in the study of law, its practice at Gardiner, Mai He soon assumed a command in the profession; and the b eminence was within his rear fitness for the business of leg discovered by his friends; age of twenty-eight, he was the House of Representative He was continued in the Ic four successive sessions. I he was Speaker of the Ho that responsible position himself as to command the ur probation of the body ov~

Hon. George Evans 19-26

1847.] Hon. George Evaus. HON. GEORGE EVANS. GREAT abilities, and a long career of useful public service, do not always en- sure extended or general celebrity. Pub- lic labors, demanding patient investiga- tion, elaborate research, careful analysis, and great power of generalization7 are not of the class which win immediate or wide renown. Such labors oftentimes produce no present or early effect. The results are contingent and remote; conse- quently the magnitude and importance of effects are overlooked. One of the most remarkable instances of great intellectual endowments, large and varied acquire- ments, long experience in the councils of the nation, public services highly appre- ejated, and universally acknowledged at Washington. without creating a corres- ponding national reputation, is that of George Evans, of Maine. As a statesman of profound wisdom and forecast, a legislator fitted for all the practical purposes of conducting the gov- ernment, Mr. Evans has rarely had his equal in Congress. And yet, there are men in the nation, of inferior talents, and less experience in public affairs, who are better known, and attract more of public notice than he does. The reason of this is obvious. The qualities of Mr. Evans mind are all solid and useful; there is nothing showy or ornamental about hini. Although a very eftective and fhient de- bater, with a fine elocution, his speeches are more distinguished by power of argu- ment, close logical demonstration, and appositeness of illustration, than the graces of oratory, or the decorations of a luxuriant imagination~ His style is chaste and severe; with great command of lan- guage, his kno~vledge of its weight and value is perfect; thus rendering precision and perspicuity the great characteristics of his argumentative efforts. On all ques- tions relating to political economy and the financial concerns of the country, Mr. Evans is probably better informed than any man now in public life. In the great tariff discussion of 1846, in the Senate, Mr. Webster, after refer- ring to what he termed the incompara- ble speech of Mr. Evans, said And now, Mr. President, since my at- tention has been thus called to that speech, and since the honorable member has re- VOL. VLNO. I. 2 minded us that the period of within these walls is about to take this occasion, even in the in his own presence, to say, that ment will be a serious loss to t~ ment and this country. He h~. teen or eighteen years in the vice. He has devoted himself to studying and comprehendir~ nue and finances of the couni~ understands that subject as w gentleman connected with the g since the days of Crawford ar Nay, as well as either of those ever understood it. I hope he I am glad to know that he will one session more; that we mr benefit of his advice and assist~ financial crisis which, in my sure to arise if this war contini bill should pass. And I can or retire when he will, he will him the good wishes of every this body; the general esteem of the country; and (placir upon his heart, and bowing to the cordial attachment of his litical and personal. This exalted encomium w~- in by the most discriminati both sides of the Senate; ma. have taken occasion to speat hors in equally flattering terw them may be mentioned M houn, Woodbury, Cass, Me Sevier. With these general obse, proceed to give a brief sketch lic life. Mr. Evans was born J 1797. He graduated at 13o lege in 1815; and after a th paration in the study of law, its practice at Gardiner, Mai He soon assumed a command in the profession; and the b eminence was within his rear fitness for the business of leg discovered by his friends; age of twenty-eight, he was the House of Representative He was continued in the Ic four successive sessions. I he was Speaker of the Ho that responsible position himself as to command the ur probation of the body ov~ 20 Hon. George Evans. presided. In July, 1829, he was elected a member of the House of Representa- tives in the Congress of the United States, where he remained twelve years, when he was transferred to the Senate. He was then a member elect of the House, having been elected to that body seven times successively. This steady devotion of his district is without a parallel in the State of Maine; no other person ever having served more than eight years in the House of Repre- sentatives, from that State A distinguished gentleman, who began his career in Congress with Mr. Evans, and served with him some half a dozea sessions, writes to us as follows Evans began his career in Congress with General Jacksons first presidential term: he came to Washington with a high reputation, so far as that reputation could be given to him by the members from Ma5- saphusetts and Maine; and with a very high anticipation on the part of intimate friendsat home, of the standing he would acquire and maintain in Con,ress ; and I do not know the pubtic man who has better justified the estimate of l)artial friends. There have been no ebbs and flows in the public opinion of his talents; no doubts or questions in the minds of any persons who knew him, whether or not he really deserved the reputation he had acquired; but a settled conviction, not only that he was entitledto the standing he had gained, but, if he should be tried, would be found equal to the duties of any station in the government. I know no public man (ex- cept Webster) who has always so fully come up to the~ public expectations; in. deed, Itbink, on all important questions, he has exceeded even the high anticipa- tions of those who knew him. To my knowledge, during his long Congressional career he has never committed a blunder or made a speech which has led anybody to say he was not the man they took him to be. So far from it, I think his most able and finished displays have left the im- pression of a power, and capacity, and re- sources for much greater things; and this impression has been justified by the suc- cessive exhibitions of his talents, both in the House and Senate. His first speech in the House was in opposition to the bill that had been report- ed, to distribute, among the officers and crew who destroyed the frigate Philadel- phia in the harbor of Tripoli, a large sum of money. The bill was founded upon the idea that the case was embraced within the principles of the prize laws, and it was supported by some of the leading men in the House. Mr. Everett, of Massachusetts, then a member of the House, had prepared a very eloquent speech in sup~ the order of the debate he foil and it was of course expected th make some answer to the argu had been made against it. A eflbrt to do so, he confessed he to answer the objections whit waged by the gentleman without time to consider them ~vent on to deliver the splendi had prepared. The bill was Evans has been for several ye- member on all financial quc man in either house, and no the Treasury, unless it be Ale ilton, has sbown more ability ject of the finances than Georg This is no partial estimate acter and services of Mr. Evn deliberate, unbiassed opinior and sagacious observer of things. Mr. Evans made his first the tariff in 1832; and fro forth he took a leading part cussions on all important q national policy. He has not to himself in omitting so frc preparation of his speeches fc This has been in conseque early diffidence in his own po strong indisposition to any play. We remember a speech of which produced a profound the time, but of which ther. very imperfect report on John Q. Adams, whose absi of right, and the propriety c them, were never modified by to circumstances of time or quired of the Speaker wheth. he in order to present a peti slave. It was represented I presented, or offered to pre~ petition; and the House was ly thrown into a state of g ment. Divers resolutions wc censure and expel him; Mr. Ev ed Mr. Adams very zealously the controversy, and finally p the matter in a speech of g and effect. The discussion ran on t~ days; being conducted by th men with much denunciatic lence, and by Mr. Adams,ln tone of sarcasm, bitterness, a On the third day, after Mr. Pm- ginia had made a furious am Mr. Adams, Mr. Evans o floor, and in a speech of mi 1847.] lion. George Evans. ment and ridicule, gave the subject such a blow that the House never resumed its consideration. During the latter part of his service in the House, Mr. Evans was held in very high estimation as a man of sound judg- ment and great address as a parliamenta- ry tactician. In the memorable contro- versy in 1839,which resulted in the exclu- sion from the House of Representatives of the regularly elected members from New Jersey, he acted a prominent part; and if his advice had governed the action of the XVhigs, the result would have been different. Mr. Wise assumed the management of the business on the part of the Whigs, but he was no match for the practised skill of his colleague, Gen. Dromgoole. The I-louse was very nicely balanced on the question of admission, and Mr. Evans, foreseeing the probability of a tie, with no speaker to give a casting vote, suggested that the Democrats should make the affirmative proposition. The result testified to the sagacity of Mr. Evans. - Mr. Dromgoole entrapped Mr. Wise into moving the admission of the members; and the motion failed by a tie vote. If the initiative had been taken hy the Democrats, as it would have been, ii n(ler the advice of Mr. Evans, the mem- hers from New Jersey would have ob- tained the seats to which they were entitled. Mr. Evans was placed at the head of the Finance Committee of the Senate, immediately upon entering that body. Here his eminent abilities as a legislator were fully displayed. All the important duties of this committee were devolved upon him. And at this time the exigen- cies of the government and the relations of parties were such as to demand great forecast, a thorough. knowledge of the subject of finance, and consummate tact and skill in leading the majority of the Senate. The position of the Whig party in Congress was one of great difficulty and delicacy throughout the term of Mr. Tylers administration. During the first two years the Whigs had a large majori- ty in both branches of Congress, and of course were responsible for the conduct of the government. Mr. Van Buren left, as a legacy to his successor, a large and rapidly accumulating debt, a revenue totally inadequate to the necessities of the government, and numerous unsettled and embarrassingquestions, both internal and external. From the time of the access Tyler to the duties of Executi trate of the nation, there wa. good understanding between the party which had place power. There were causes of estran~ tween them, hardly necessary cidated here, but which were before the commencement of session of Congress, and whici an open rupture before that se~ to an end. The ordinary ar difficulties incident to a char. policy of the government weix creased and exasperated. In the campaign of 1840, I had promised immediate relief t pIe from the financial distresses afflicted the country. for the three or four years. Some of th from which this relief was a were arrested by Mr. Tyler,. influence of the beneficent pol Whigs was only partially ex by the country. The people taught to exllect much from Ic and as no immediate benefici were experienced, the disap was great, and loudly expresse The consequences of the ru1 Mr. Tyler were seen over the c the popular elections; and S~ after another, that had been ai formly Whig, wheeled intothe I ic line. All these things conspi hance the embarrassments of C in Congress; and the eyes of th. from Maine to Louisiana, were deep solicitude to Washington. In the Senate the oppositio array of strength embracing and most experienced men of ti cratic party. Messrs. Wright, Benton, Woodhury, and Buch smarting under their recent de opposed in princil)le to the poli. W higs, resisted every measure, step, with great power of argu eloquence. During the long 1841-2, the labors of the Senatc ing revenue loans, and the arr5ng the new tariff, fell upon Mr. Ev: perfected all these measures in mittee-room, and successfully them in the Senate aoainstth force of the opposition~ The entertaining profound respect judgment, and knowing his abilil fided the management of all the belonging to the Finance Coin: 22 lion. Gecrge Evans. his discretion; and most wisely and effi- ciently did he discharge the duty. The writer of this sketch was placed in such circumstances as to be able to appreciate the zeal, and labor, and care, bestowed by Mr. Evans in perfecting the tariff of 1842. The vast burden of that work fell on his shoulders alone. Upon him devolved the task of familiarizing the Senate with its structure and operation. He sacrificed every pdrsonal considera- tion to reconcile conflicting interests; to harmonize a measure for the good of the whole coontry,and to meet the exigen- cies of that great crisis. He labored earnestly, patriotically, and successfully. Perhaps no portion of Mr. Evans pub- lic life has commanded more admiration than that during which this tariff debate took place. It was a period of great public interest and excitement. The suc- cess of the principal measures of the party depemkd upon the establishmentof a wise system of imposts. Mr. Evans foresaw the beneficial fruits of the tariff he had framed; and to consummate its success, he brought all the energies of his mind, and the rich treasures of his experience aad knowledge to bear upon the discussion. As has been said, he bore the whole burden of the contest, and met and refuted all the free-trade argu- ments of the greatest and ablest in the opposition. Messrs. Wright, Calhoun, and Benton, particularly distinguished themselves by determined opposition to the principles of the bill; while its de- tails were examined and scrutinized with great power of analysis by Messrs. Woodbury and Buchanan. But Mr. Evans was fully equal to all the demands made upon his knowledge and experi- ence as a political economist and states- man. The readiness and power with which he repelled the assaults of these distinguished opponents of the measure, and illustrated the national advantages to be derived from its adoption, will be long remembered by those who had the privi- lege to be present at the discussion. In March, 1842, Mr. Evans made an elaborate and instructive speech upon the resolutions of Mr. Clay, relating to the revenue and expenditures of the govern- ment, and the necessity of augmented duties upon imports. It was a subject that had long engaged the attention of Mr. Evans, and he brought to its discus- sion a mind thoroughly informed upon all branches of political economy. The speech was regarded as o~ie of theablest of the session. Mr. Clay second speech on the resol eulogizing in glowing term ments that had been made c side, remarked, that he hope without any unjust discrimi ticula~ize those of his frien (Mr. Evans) the chairman of Committee, whose able sp~ present occasion, went to de correctness of the opinion, ad~tance by Mr. C., that, if that high and responsible would prove himself fully duties, and would discharg manner conducive to his and the advantage of the co further evidence of the e~ which Mr. Evans is held by may be stated that, when he - of why he declined to be placc of the Finance Committee, upon the appointment of Mr reply was, Sir, Evans k about the tariff than any p. the United States. We are desirous to selr speech upon Mr. Clays resc paragraphs as specimens of I pregnant style of Mr. Evans turned over its pages with ti really we cannot tell where where to leave off. The s liar. You cannot detach an the speech, and have it scarcely intelligible. As a perfect in argument and illu~ the parts are so dependen another, that it is hardly make a selection that shall g er an adequate idea of the plicity, and power of the eff has been likened by one accomplished literary men Macaulay. Undoubtedly ii resemblance; but Mr. Ev advantage in point of vigor sation. Towards the close of the red to, Mr. Evans, after ir the necessity of immediately the treasury, proceeded as fc And now, sir, allow me fi what, in my judgment, Cong. riously called upon to do, an it. And our first duty, und. provide for the immediate wants of the Treasury, and public faith and credit. Thc is, at this moment, as every under protest. Liabilities ar~ 11cm. George Evans. due without the means to extinguish them. We must have money, if we would not suffer further disgrace, and have it forth- with. The case does not admit of delay. We ought, therefore, instantly to pass a loan bill in such form as to he efficient and available. This will enable us to redeem all the notes falling due, and give to the treasury aid for its ordinary operations; and, in the second place, to secure a suc- cessful and favorable negotiation of any amount authorized to be borrowed, we must follow, as speedily as possible, with a revenue bill, so framed as to ensure ade- quate revenue for the support of the gov- ernment and the payment of the interest of the public debt, and for its final redemp- tion. Without this, the fate of the loan may be doubtful, or the terms onerous. If we would restore and preserve our credit, we must show to capitalists, and to the world, that we are not living beyond our income; that we are determined no longer to borrow money for our daily expenses; that our resources are abundant for our wants. If this be done, we may expect a speedy and a favorable termination to the negotiations for the loan we may au- thorize. Both these hills ought to go out together, or in quick succession; both ought to pass within twenty days; and, if they should, what a new aspect would be given to our puhlic credit, and new hopes, and encourarement, and confidence to the people of this country. But, sir, there is another measure, indispensable to the suc- cess of your revenue laws, and to both the measures I have adverted to, without. which, it is much to be feared, all other measures will prove inadequateI ntean the restoration of a sound currency to the country. Without this, business cannot be resuscitatedtrade must languishcom- merce declineand, whatever your scale of duties may be, revenue must diminish. If the state of the currency and of ex- changes is to continue so deranged and dis- or(lered, necessarily our revenue must largely feel the effects of it; and hence, to the success of your revenue laws, I regard a restoration of a good currency indispen- sable. With conciliating dispositions, and wise, and temperate, and patriotic coun- sels, all this may be accomplished within sixty days; and what a shout of joy would not burst out from the hearts of this peo- ple, if such could be the result of our la- hors. The next ohject which I think demands the attention of Congress, is to provide and push vigorously our national defences. These, however important and indispensable they are, and lowering as may be the prospect of our foreign affairs, must, almost of necessity, be postponed to the other measures I have designated. Until public credit is restored, and a sure and adequate supply of revenue be secur ed, any attempt to push fort costly structures of defence and must only end in still deeper ment, and will finally prove We must count the cost, and means, before we undertake that penditure for these objects wli~ terest and honor of the country ly demand. The last object whi. suggest as deserving our attent time, is the retrenchment and rc branches of the public service, i~ so much has been said, and u such stress is laid. Some gentle. judgment, give undue prornine matter when they place it amor duties incumbent on us. No d are great opportunities for retr and perhaps some of the modu in the resolutions before us are v. being adopted; but they are all tively, minor matters. These grievances of which the cou plains. These are not the burr weigh down its energies, and w buried its prosperity in the di would not waste upon them the i ought to be devoted to other, ar and higher, and more sacred The country is looking on with ment and alarm, not to say mdi, the comparatively trivial matt have engrossed so much of the Congress during this session. I of that country, let us postpone concerns until the deep clouds overshadow it are dispersed, ar of its prosperity again pours dov~ en beams to warm it into life, an and vigor. The session of 423 was guished by the discussion of question, or contest about pri their application. The Whigs l~ majority in both branches of and having put into operation tem of measures, except wher. been thwarted by the Executiv to do nothing, but the md business of the government. this came under the supervisi Evans as Chairman of the Fiw mittee of the Senate. The Co to say treachery, of Mr. Tyler, such as to produce the stronge. of indignation among the WI many influential gentlemen Houses were constrained to measures by every means in th- Upon Mr. Evans devolved th task of carrying through the necessary for the support of t[ ment, and that too, against, in stances, a majority of his ow 1847.1 24 lEon. George Evans. This duty was so discharged as to extort the admiration of the President and his cabinet, without offending or disaffecting any portion of the Whigs. The very able Secretary of the Treasu- ry, Mr. Spencer, remarked to the writer that the country and the government were alike indebted to Mr. Evans,that the government could not have gone on without the assistance of his ability and liberality during the whole ses- sion. A new Congress assembled in Decem- ber, 1843. The disagreement between the Whigs and Mr. Tyler had necessarily resulted in giving to the Democrats a large majority in the House of Represen- tatives. The Whigs retained the pre- ponderance in the Senate; but their numbers were considerably diminished. A concerted and determined attack was early projected in both Houses upon th.e system of imposts perfected in 1842, and which had been in operation but little more than a year. In the Senate the as- sault was led by Mr. McDuffie, one of the most zealous, able, and adroit oppo- nents of the protective system in the country. The discussion lasted many days, involving the question of Free Trade v~rsus Protection, in all its rela- tions; and enlisted the powers of the principal orators on both sides in the Senate. It was the great debate of the session, and never has the subject been more thoroughly and ably illustrated. The chief burden of the dehate on the Whig side was borne by Mr. Evans. He delivered two set speeches; the first was pronounced by Hunts Magazine to be one of the best digested and ablest ar- guments in favor of Protection delivered in Congress since the revival of the tariffs policy. To this speech Mr. McDuffie replied, and Mr. Evans rejoined in a masterly ef- fort. For statistical research, elabora- tion of argument, variety and felicity of illustration, and true eloquence, this speech has been rarely excelled. It is a triumphant vindication of the wisdom of the protective policy. Though chiefly devoted to the dry details of figures and calculations, he was listened to with pro- found attention; and he imparted to every sentence an interest which is rarely pro- duced except upon exciting or popular subjects. We are strongly tempted to extract several portions of this speech, but ad- monished by our circumscribed limits, we must content ourselves with tences at the close. Mr. President, the honora in his estimate of the advar~ gained by the South from a sc federacy, makes no account national strength and nationals forgets that ordeal of fire thr we passed in the establishmer dependence, and through whi never have gone if we had not The~ glorious past he leaves - altogether, white his ardent revels in the brighter visions oi Let the separation of which he place, and that day, on whose turn ten thousand times te American hearts beat higher ar that day which first beheld us dent nationis to be blotted f1 endar. For the South, at le bring no joyous recollections, heart-stirring emotions. The ac of our ancestors are to be al Camden and Kings Mountain remain within the limits of ti- federacybut none of the ren(i glory which attach to them wi it. All of gallantry, and prow ble bearing which were then all of high renown, ever-d honor, glory, there acquired, b. ever will belong, in all history, United, United America. It ci dividedGod grant it may nev- rated and forgotten. No acco taken of the glorious spectaclc have presented to the world tion of the great problem of thc mankind for self-government of the great advance which has in government, and the progre stitutions. all over the world, f ample. The various events of alleled revolution, the renown that momentous strugglethe for the GREAT and GOOD, the pa fame is our countrys inheritanc bequest of liberty, unity, 5U chased with so much blood ar treasure, are all, all to be ab~ sacrificed, if, in the providene- deplorable an event should oc which the Senator, for the purp. tration, has supposed. But no, these things will happen. Iha that the honorable Senator himL plates or desires such a calamity belief that his honored State en slightest wish, the faintest hope ration of our union. I am sure him, and it, great injustice, such a purpose to either. No less enough to covet the fame, of infamy, which must await hi bring upon this happy land the lion. George Evans. and war which such an event must pro- duce. The adventurous youth who under- took but for a single day to guide the chariot of the sun, paid for his temerity with the forfeit of his life. Happy will it be for him who, impelled by a mad ambi- tion, shall kindle up our system in univer- sal confla0ration, to escape with so light a penalty. He will live, live in the re- proaches and execrations of mankind in all time. He will live in historynot on the page where are inscribed the names of the benefactors of our race ; not with the GOOD, the wIsE, the GREAT, but with the enemies of the liberties and happiness of mankind, with the oppressors of their race, with the scourges whom God has permitted to desolate natioQs, and to quench human happiness in tears and blood. Sir, we are one. We cannot be di- vided. We have a common country, a common history, common distinction, re- nown, pre-eminence. They all belong to one, and one only. We have common and mutual interests which bind us together, and which cannot be severed. Bands stronger than iron or steel hold us in in- dissoluble connection. One sacred oath has tied Our loves; one destiny our life shall guide, Nor wild, nor deep, our common way divide whatever, in maintaining the sysi has prevailed, and for which I hay No one on earth, in any way. with me, has any interest in its tion, beyond what every good - the country has, in seeing his fe prosperous and happy, and hiz rising in wealth and strength. ~i plish this, I have labored asl hay 1 have gained nothingI expec~ personally. Well may it be said Sic vos non vobis, fertis aratra for we have worked like oxen in nessnot for ourselves, but for ests of our country. If others ha and gathered in golden harvests fields which we have ploughed I have no repiningsno envyin~ gretsthough I have gathered no But I have this consolation, sir, this exultation, that I have 1a1 just and honorable spirit of paIn the good of my country. I see rejoice to see it, rising in str wealth, in power. And it is to ever feebly I have discharged a connected with itit is to me, a will be, a source of proud satisfa. I have been, in a ve~y humble fellow-laborer with others, in bui and advancing, and upholding the and happiness, and honor of this pie. In the protracted contest which ter- In publishing this speech th minated in the overthrow of thetariffsys- gent and diacriminating editoi tem of 1842, and the substitution of the Boston Atlas remarked, Thea defective and incongruous bill of imposts bably no man living who is L prepared by the head of the Treasury quainted with the financial affa Department and his incompetent subordi- country than Mr. Evans; and th nates, Mr. Evans led the debate on the has been commended as one of Whig side of the Senate. He concluded best ever made in the Congre: his last speech on the tariff policy in the United States on the subject of i follo Ning terms: During the last session of the long illness of Mr. Lewis, I have now discharged my duty. This of the Finance Committee, impc is, undoubtedly, the last occasion which I Mr. Evans the chief part of the shall ever have to address the Senate of the that committee; and he discha United States upon this subject. The pe- in such a manner as to command nod of my service in the public councils is drawing to its close. If my inclinations or versal admiration of the Sen~ my interests had alone been considered, it senatorial term closed with that would have terminated before this time. I and we can safely say that the~ have had occasion frequentlyquite too general feeling of regret in thai frequentlyto address the Senate upon this his retirement. subject. I bore some humble part in the en- Although more than one ha actment of the law of 1842, which is now to life has been spent in the public be overthrown. I exerted myself then, with Mr. Evans has devoted much alt whatability I could, against long, persever- the subject of education and liter ring, able oppositionand I have done so repeatedly sincein vindicating and up- only in his native State, but holding the policy of that act. I have done paris of the country. He is a so now. But in all this, sir, I have had no each of the colleges of Bowl! personal ends to subserveno selfish objects Waterville, in Maine, and held to gratify. I have no personal interests, of Regent of the Smithsonian I 1847.1 The RirnSylpA. during the period required for its organi- in the public life of Mr. Evar~ zation. His literary acquirements and expressing the hope that the c services have been so far appreciated that not bug be deprived of his s~ the trustees of Washington College, the State of Maine is so blind Pennsylvania, at their last annual meet- interests and honor as to permi ing, conferred upon him the degree of drawal from the Senate, the gi L.L.D. This is a matter of slight conse- of his usefulness, we arequitc quence, to be sure, but it is mentioned to the Keunebec District will insk show that his claims to public considera- resuming his old station in U~. tion do no rest exclusively upon political Representatives antil 1849, wl service. President will require his serv We cannot conclude this hasty and head of the Treasury Departm- imperfect summary of the principal events THE ELM-SYLPH. ~Y H. W PARKE~ A GItAGEYUL young elm, with a maidenly form, That swings in the sunlight and bends in the storm, Has shaded my window for many long years; And year after year its pavilion it rears Still grows with my growth and endures with my strerigt Till it folds me in shade as I lie at my length. It whispers me dreams in the faint summer days, And sprinkles my table with gold-dropping rays; It sings me bland music through alt the hushd night, And shows a sweet glimpse of the stars stealthy light; It curtains the glart of the impudent dawn, And woos back the dusk like a shivering fawn. Oh, long have I loved thee, my Elmgentle Elm Thou standest as proud as the queen of a realm, And winningly wavest thy soft leafy arms, Like a beautiful maid who is conscious of charms. Oh, oft have I leaned c~n thy rough-rinded breast, And thought of it oft as an iron-like vest No breastplate of steel, but a corslet of bark That hid the white limbs of my Joan of Arc Shoutshout to thy brothers, the forests, I said, And lead out the trees with a soldierly tread; Thou art armed to the teeth, and hast many a plume Then marshal the trees, aixl avenge their sad doom; Enroll all their squadrons and lead out the van, And turn the swift axe on your murdererman! But ab,thus I said erermore,the tall trees, Though they shriek in the tempest and sing in the breeze,, Have never a soul and are rooted in earth l They live and they die where they spring into birth; The stories of Dryads are only a dream, And trees are no more than they outwardly seem. One night the wind blew with a murmuring plaint, Like the wandering g host of a heaven-banished saint; It restlessly swayed Iy my window the tree That told all its griefs and its joyings to me.

H. W. Parker Parker, H. W. The Elm-Sylph 26-29

The RirnSylpA. during the period required for its organi- in the public life of Mr. Evar~ zation. His literary acquirements and expressing the hope that the c services have been so far appreciated that not bug be deprived of his s~ the trustees of Washington College, the State of Maine is so blind Pennsylvania, at their last annual meet- interests and honor as to permi ing, conferred upon him the degree of drawal from the Senate, the gi L.L.D. This is a matter of slight conse- of his usefulness, we arequitc quence, to be sure, but it is mentioned to the Keunebec District will insk show that his claims to public considera- resuming his old station in U~. tion do no rest exclusively upon political Representatives antil 1849, wl service. President will require his serv We cannot conclude this hasty and head of the Treasury Departm- imperfect summary of the principal events THE ELM-SYLPH. ~Y H. W PARKE~ A GItAGEYUL young elm, with a maidenly form, That swings in the sunlight and bends in the storm, Has shaded my window for many long years; And year after year its pavilion it rears Still grows with my growth and endures with my strerigt Till it folds me in shade as I lie at my length. It whispers me dreams in the faint summer days, And sprinkles my table with gold-dropping rays; It sings me bland music through alt the hushd night, And shows a sweet glimpse of the stars stealthy light; It curtains the glart of the impudent dawn, And woos back the dusk like a shivering fawn. Oh, long have I loved thee, my Elmgentle Elm Thou standest as proud as the queen of a realm, And winningly wavest thy soft leafy arms, Like a beautiful maid who is conscious of charms. Oh, oft have I leaned c~n thy rough-rinded breast, And thought of it oft as an iron-like vest No breastplate of steel, but a corslet of bark That hid the white limbs of my Joan of Arc Shoutshout to thy brothers, the forests, I said, And lead out the trees with a soldierly tread; Thou art armed to the teeth, and hast many a plume Then marshal the trees, aixl avenge their sad doom; Enroll all their squadrons and lead out the van, And turn the swift axe on your murdererman! But ab,thus I said erermore,the tall trees, Though they shriek in the tempest and sing in the breeze,, Have never a soul and are rooted in earth l They live and they die where they spring into birth; The stories of Dryads are only a dream, And trees are no more than they outwardly seem. One night the wind blew with a murmuring plaint, Like the wandering g host of a heaven-banished saint; It restlessly swayed Iy my window the tree That told all its griefs and its joyings to me. 1847.1 The Lim-Syiph. The moon, overspread with a white misty veil, Seemed quitting its grave, like a spectre-face pale; I looked at the elm, and I gazed at the moon How long I know notbut I started, as soon A smooth little hand, with a velvet embrace, Took mine in its claspbut I saw not a face; I saw but a hand stealing out from a branch, Whose leaves gan to wither, the rough rind to blanch, And soon all the trunk and the off-shoots to strain To writhe and to swell like a serpent in pain Or like the nymph, Daphne. when she was pursued, And, changed to a laurel tree, pantingly stood. An armlily arm !and a necksnowy neck And, lo, all the elm tree is falling a wreck; Like a butterflys chrysalis, bursts all the bark, And forth as a sylph springs my Joan of Arc! Ye Gods! how she struggled and swayed, when the wind Blew hither and thither, and shrieked like a fiend: With the strong wind she wrestled, then flew to my side Said silverly, Haste with me !now for a ride! Oer the breadth of a world, in a martial array, The forests are movingso up and away ! Away and away through the billowy air One arm clasped around me, her long wavy hair Streamed back like a pennon of silk to the wind, As we left the still town and its glimmer behind. Away and away oer the mountains and ineads, I darted, upborne by no magical steeds, But buoyed by the hand of my glorying Elm, Whose wishes were wings that no storm could oerwhelm. We paused in mid air, and Look downward! she cried, Oer a battle-ground, now, like the eagles, we;ide. I gazed and I quailed at the dizzying height, Made giddier still by the vagueness of night But, gathering heart, the horizon I scanned, As it swept all about, like a maelstrom of land; Wide wide as eternity, towered its bound, And, deeper than hell, all the world spun around! Then nearer and slower it wheeled to my sight, As we sank gently down from the wildering height. It ceased, and, ye Gods !what a vision I saw, As 1 looked down intently with shuddering awe The forests were marching with far-shaking tread, As if ages of men had been raised from the dead; Interminable armiesa dark moving throng Were crossing and wheeling and pressing along, And ranks upoit ranks they were stretching alar, Till they shone by the face of a just setting star. Down, down we alighted, the Elm-sylph and 1, On a mountain that lifted its bare summit high. And why are yon trees on these thunder-scarrd rocks? And why does the giant one shake his green locks? Tis the Emperor Elm ! said the sylph as she kneeled, And he marshals the trees to a stern battle-field ! I gazed at the Shape, and it seemed. both to he A warrior king and a towering tree, That strode like a god, looking loftily down, And royally nodding his broad leafy crbwn. The Elm.Sylph. I saw all his gestures, but heard not his words, As he gathered around him his counselling lords A willow that bowed with its courtliest grace; A birch with its ruffles and 8ilvery lace; A veteran oak and a tall gallant pine, Who spoke of the Danube, the Elbe, and the Rhine; A rough, stalwart hemlock; a cedar bedight With helmet and lance, like a chivalrous knight; A chestnut and maple and sycamore old, In red autumn dresses, emblazoned with gold. I heard their low murmur and little beside, Till the Emperor Elm, with a hurrying stride, Advanced to the brink of the rocks giddy brow, And waved his broad hand to the forests below. Halt !halt, and attend you ! he shouted aloud, And a hush smote along the tumultuous crowd, Like a surge circling out where a Titan had hurled An Alp into seas that engirdle a world. Halt !halt, and attend ye, my gallant array, And list to the words that I hasten to say. No longer to stand like insensible mutes, It is given us fo-night to. unloosen our roots To wield our lithe arms, to step forth at our will, By valley and mountain, by river and rill. The term of our bondage and groaning is oer; XVe start from our sleep with tempestuous roar, And while the pale nations lie closer and cower, And mutter of storms, tis the Trees waking hour. We fight not each other, with mans demon lust, But one common foe let us trample to dust. For men, with the axe and the furious fires, Have slain us and lighted our funeral pyres; They have sawn us asunder, they pile up our bones, And call them their cities, their temples, their thrones: They drink from our skulls, or, invoking the breeze, They ride in our skeletons over the seas; They pierce us with shot, and they make of us wheels To drag the hot cannon where red Battle reels. Oh, cursd be the traffics we help them to wage, And cursd be the ages of mans bloody rage! Battalions, stand firm !for the dawn breaks afar That will startle the world with the earthquake of war. Await ye the watchwordthen pass it around, Till the rim of the heavens bend aside at the sound; Keep close in your ranks, troop, squadron and square, Then rush like the whirlwinds ingulfing the air, On cities and palaces fearlessly fall, Crush the homesteads of mortals by hearthstone and hall! Oh, rich is the blood that shall deluge the earth, And sweeten the soil that has nursed us to birth ! He ceased. Like the roar of the triumphing sea, When it surges aloud on a far distant lee, Re-echoed applauses ran rattling away Wherever the listening wilderness lay. The Elm-spirit rocked on the shuddering air, That loosened and lifted her beautiful hair, As she clung to my arm, and extended her hand Where circled the billowy ocean of land. I looked, and the daylight was brightening the scene, And changing the landscape from duskness to green; The forests seenied watching with myriad eyes, Awaiting the war-cry to shout and to rise ; 1847] Abraham Cowky. A flush on the hills and a flash on the streams, And the sun has arisen with far-slanting beams! ~ Advance ! and Advance ! is the shout in the air, And thousands of scimitars mingle their glare; The Imperial ElmJo, he leaps from the rock The forests are stepping with deafening shock A sentinel aspen has tremblingly fled Dense volumes of dust to the heavens are up spread. Ho !ho what a drumming of wings in the air, What a howling of beasts from their down-trampled lair, What a screaming of birds as they hurry away No need of the gong and the trumpet to-day! On, on rush the forests in dust-rolling gloom, Like a gathering universe summoned to doom; My Soul !they are climbing this mounts dizzy height Savecrush me, ye focks, from the terrible sight * * * * * * * My storm-riven Elm tree !ah! little I deemed Thou wert slain by my side as I heedlessly dreamed. ABRAHAM COWLEY. As drives the storm, at any door I knock, And house with Montaigne now, or now with Locke. POPES IMITATIONS OF No entertainment is so cheap as reading, nor any pleasure so lasting. LADY M. W. M Come with me to our town, where I can furnish you with more than thrc books that are the delights of my soul and the entertainment of my life.DoN ~IHE weather has been dull and cheer- the world has produced. He less for several days past, but, as we look force of the painting. You c~ from our window, the grass has a tender, peel the bark from the trees lively green, and the beds are full of branches wave as if feeling the flowers. We look around at our books, of the breeze. We prefer engra those eloquent, though silent friends, and these to ordinary paintings. T think how many hours of heart-felt de- the table you see a likeness ot light we have passed in their company. Godwin, arbd he looks as if XVe have lived in a world of books, pic- write An Enquiry Concernin- tnres, and love, the only true ideal, and Justice, and Caleb Williams. now placidly thank God for all the enjoy- Northeote had finished the like ments thaf have been lavished on us. which this print is taken, he v The room where we are writing this is a said, I have immortalized delightful one, well filled with the death- Vain boast, for the names of H less productions of deathless minds, or, Godwin will preserve the form- as Bacon nobly expresses it, the images tion of Northcote, for even now of mens wit and knowledge remain in of his pictures have fallen into books, exempted from the wrong of time, beyond the hope of redemPth and capable of perpetual renovation, world is too rich to pay attentio There are also some fine prints on the nor productions, too wealthy wall, and that one from Hobima, The and paintings, and sculpture, t Rural Village, has a quiet, country, sab- sickly attempts into an unreal bath-like air, and Rubens Waggoners, healthy bloom. We pass our eye and The Going to Market, and Boths shelves and exclaim, What shall Banditti Prisoners, are all engraved in we must select some good-nature the highest style of art by Browne, the one whom we love as much p~ best landscape engraver, we think, that as in his books; one who often fu

G. F. D. D., G. F. Abraham Cowley 29-36

1847] Abraham Cowky. A flush on the hills and a flash on the streams, And the sun has arisen with far-slanting beams! ~ Advance ! and Advance ! is the shout in the air, And thousands of scimitars mingle their glare; The Imperial ElmJo, he leaps from the rock The forests are stepping with deafening shock A sentinel aspen has tremblingly fled Dense volumes of dust to the heavens are up spread. Ho !ho what a drumming of wings in the air, What a howling of beasts from their down-trampled lair, What a screaming of birds as they hurry away No need of the gong and the trumpet to-day! On, on rush the forests in dust-rolling gloom, Like a gathering universe summoned to doom; My Soul !they are climbing this mounts dizzy height Savecrush me, ye focks, from the terrible sight * * * * * * * My storm-riven Elm tree !ah! little I deemed Thou wert slain by my side as I heedlessly dreamed. ABRAHAM COWLEY. As drives the storm, at any door I knock, And house with Montaigne now, or now with Locke. POPES IMITATIONS OF No entertainment is so cheap as reading, nor any pleasure so lasting. LADY M. W. M Come with me to our town, where I can furnish you with more than thrc books that are the delights of my soul and the entertainment of my life.DoN ~IHE weather has been dull and cheer- the world has produced. He less for several days past, but, as we look force of the painting. You c~ from our window, the grass has a tender, peel the bark from the trees lively green, and the beds are full of branches wave as if feeling the flowers. We look around at our books, of the breeze. We prefer engra those eloquent, though silent friends, and these to ordinary paintings. T think how many hours of heart-felt de- the table you see a likeness ot light we have passed in their company. Godwin, arbd he looks as if XVe have lived in a world of books, pic- write An Enquiry Concernin- tnres, and love, the only true ideal, and Justice, and Caleb Williams. now placidly thank God for all the enjoy- Northeote had finished the like ments thaf have been lavished on us. which this print is taken, he v The room where we are writing this is a said, I have immortalized delightful one, well filled with the death- Vain boast, for the names of H less productions of deathless minds, or, Godwin will preserve the form- as Bacon nobly expresses it, the images tion of Northcote, for even now of mens wit and knowledge remain in of his pictures have fallen into books, exempted from the wrong of time, beyond the hope of redemPth and capable of perpetual renovation, world is too rich to pay attentio There are also some fine prints on the nor productions, too wealthy wall, and that one from Hobima, The and paintings, and sculpture, t Rural Village, has a quiet, country, sab- sickly attempts into an unreal bath-like air, and Rubens Waggoners, healthy bloom. We pass our eye and The Going to Market, and Boths shelves and exclaim, What shall Banditti Prisoners, are all engraved in we must select some good-nature the highest style of art by Browne, the one whom we love as much p~ best landscape engraver, we think, that as in his books; one who often fu 30 Abraham Cowley. trade of authorship and is proud of his philosophy. It ~vas always humanity. One touch of nature makes est wishes that he might be th. the whole world kin. Ah, there is a small house and a large g Cowley, who once thought, and called dedicate his life to them and Ii himself melancholy, because disap- nature; and he confesses tha. pointed in his hopes by the dissolute and littleness in almost all things, a ungrateful Charles. It was but a mo- venient estate, a very little fe~ mentary feeling. We like to read Cowley thought if he fell in love agai in the old folio editions; they look as be vith prettiness rather than ample and generous as his own nature heauty. In this publication F was. Charles Lamb, in a letter to Cole- the pieces he wrote at school ridge in 1797, has this passage, In all age ~5f ten till after fifteen, fc our comparisons of taste, I do not know even so far backward there whether I have ever heard your opinion some traces of me in t~te litV of a poet very dear to me, the now out of a child.~~* of fashion Cowley. Favor me with Cowley was the most popu! your judgment of him, and tell me if his his day, and WaIler the nex1 prose essays, in particular, as well as no was not yet famous, and thc inconsiderable part of his verse be not minor poems of Milton, thou~ delicious. I prefer the graceful rambling praised by many of the fine. of his essays, even to the courtly ele- England, and great in mouth gance and ease of Addison, abstracting censure, had not as yet made from this the latters exquisite humor. to the people. The year that Lamb remarks in his Detached eyes of Cowley beheld the rhoughts on Books and Reading, the of earths noblest poem, Paw sweetest names and which carry a per- Cowley was the posthumc fume in the mention, are, Kit Marlowe, a grocer; but his mother, wit -Drayton, Drummond of Hawthornden exertion, gave him an excell. arid Cowley. tion, which enriched a mind Ihe preface to the edition of 1665 con- already by nature, modest, sob tains some fine passages. He observes and guided by gentle affectior there is nothing that requires so much derate desires: she lived to serenity and cheerfulness of spirit, as eighty, and was happily rewa writingitmustnotbeeitheroverwhelm- ing her son eminent. When ed with the cares of life, or overcast with he displayed a taste for poei the clouds of melancholy and sorrow, volume of his poems was p or shaken and disturbed with the storms his thirteenth year. He ha of injurious fortune; it must, like the relish for Spensers Fairie halcyon, have fair weather to breed in. copy of which used to be in h The soul must be filled with bright and parlor. During the unhapp beautiful ideas, when it undertakes to between the King and ParE communicate delight to otha~s. The was a zealous royalist, and truth is, for a man to write well, it is ne- the queen-mother to France cessary to be in good-humor. Cow- sent on various embassies, a leys free and independent spirit filled him displayed tact, skill, and en. ~vith the desire to go to America, not to letters, at these periods, w~ seek for gold, or to enrich himself with concise, and to the point. He the traffic of those parts, but to bury the correspondence between himself in some obscure retreat, but not his queenan office of the h without the consolation of letters and and honorwhich, for some ~ To him no author was unknown, Yet whet he wrote was all his own; He melted not the ancient gold, Nor with Ben Johnson did make bold To plunder all the Roman stores Of poets and of orators. Horace, his wit and Virgils state, He did not steal but emulate; And when he would like theta appear, Their garb, but not their clothes, did wear. Sin JOHN DENHAMS LINES ON 1847.1 Abraham Cowley. up his entire time daily, and some two or through the glass, He felt i three nights in a week. When the quiet and repose.* How exqi Restoration came, Cowley expected, and l)arallel between the country with justice, some post or reward for his We are here among the vast diligent and valuable services; and hoped scenes of nature; we are there to he made master of the Savoy; but his pitiful shifts of policy: we w~ claims were passed by with the most sit- the light and open ways of percilious coolnessthe court had taken country; we grope there in th offence at his Ode to Brutus, and his confused labyrinths of hum~i comedy of the Cutter of Coleman street, our senses are here feasted wit produced after the Restoration, where the and genuine taste of their obje recklessness, jollity, profusion, and raise- are all sophisticated there, an rable shifts and contrivances courtiers most part, overwhelmed with and cavaliers were put to, ar~ depicted in traries. Here, pleasure looks strong and vivid colors. The court look- like a beautiful, constant, a ed upon it as a satire. Cowley was too wife; it is there an impudent, honest to falsify history; and had too painted harlot. Here, is hai much sense not to know that a comedy cheap plenty; there, guilty an6 to be attractive, must be a faithful repre- ful luxury. I shall only insta sentation of human nature. The disap- delight more, the most natural pointment was keenly felt, and he turned natured of all others, a perpe his face t9 the green fields, balmy air, panion of the husbandman; a the woods, musical with the song of the satisfaction of looking ro birds, and to weeds of glorious fea- him, and seeing nothing but the ture to lull the throbbing heart, and improvements of his own art cool the fevered brow. He had been gence; to be always gathering absent ten years from his country, ~tuch fruits of it, and at the same time of which had been passed in danger and others ripening, and others bu. anxiety; and he was now turned beyond see all his fields and gardens fortya period when we are reminded with the beauteous creatures of that there is no fooling with life, and industry; and to see, like God more carefully watch the sand as it drops his works are good: ~ These verses of Randolphs would have fitted his mouth as he left London. Come spur away, I have no paieu6e for a longer stay, But must go down And leave the chargeable noise of this great town: I will the country see, Where old simphcity Tho hid in grey, Poth look more gay Than foppery in plush and scarlet clad. Fareivel, you city wits, that are Almost at civil war; Tis time that I grow wise when all the world grows ma More of my days I will not spend to gain an idiots praise; Or to make sport For some slight puny of the inns of court. Then, worthy Stafford, say, How shall we speud the day With what delights Shorten the nights When from this tumult we are got secure; Where mirth with all her freedom goes, Yet shall no finger lose Where every word is thought, and every thought is pure. There, from the tree Well cherries pluck, and pick the strawberry; And every day Go see the wholesome girls make hay, Whose brown hath lovelier grace Than any painted face That I do know Hyde Park can show. 32 Abraham Gowley. On his heart-strings a secret joy doth strike. Through the friendship and aid of Lord St. Albans and the Duke of Buckingham he obtained the lease of some lands be- longing to the queen, worth about 300 per annum, and retired to Chertsey.* The people of the neighborhood, whom Cowley expected to find all innocence and simplicity, like the shepherds de- scribed in Sir Philip Sydneys Arcadia, turned out to be quite different from all that he had anticipated. He could get no money from his tenants, and they turned their cattle into his meadows nightly, to his loss and annoyance. He complained of these inroads in a letter to Dr. Thomas Sprat, dated May 21, 1665, at Chertsey; this letter, and one to John Evelyn, a man of elegant ta& t. position, we think are the only Cowleys printed corresponde- deeply is this to be regretted. biographer, says, that his let friends were excellent; in 11 ways expressed the native tent innocent gaiety of his mind, Sprat, from a false modesty, r. publish them. We can conceiv to have been more (lelightful of Cowley; and webaseourop the easy and graceful style of essays; his frank, charming enlightened3 vigorous, healthy doubtless they would have cc vorably with the epistolary Gray and Cowper. The lett tinguished men always posses * Ilowitt, in his R ralL~fe of England, has the following eloquent passage, of the Golden Grove, kept by Yames Snowden, at the foot of St. Annes lull, Who does not know it that loves sweet scenery, sweet associations, or a pIe and pipe, or a tea-party on a holiday of nature in one of the most delicious nests Yes! there is a nice o I d village inn for y on; and such a tree! There you have the Golden Grove,.all in a blaze of gold, somewhat dashed and dimmed, it is blaze of many suns,but there it is, in front of theinn, and by the old tree. ~t hanging gardens, and orchards; the rustic cottag& s scattered about, the rich splendid prospects above, the beautiful meadow and winding streams below; W enough to arrest any traveller, and make him put op his horse, and determine little of this sweet air. and indulge in this Arcadian calm, amid these embow~ lands. And where ishe i Below, in those fair meadows, amid those cottage orchard trees, rises the low, square, church-tower of Chertsey: Chertsey, wh lived and died; and where his garden still remains as delicious as ever, wii walk winding by his favorite brook; and the little wooden bridge leading into meadows; and where his old house yet remainssaving the porch pointing to which was taken down for the public safety; but the circumstance and its cause ed on a tablet on the wall, with this concluding line Ilere the last accents flowed from Cowleys tongue. You, then, poetical or enthusiastic traveller, or visitant, tread the ground whic Cowley trod in his retirement; and what is more, you tread the ground wh~ James Fox trod in his retirement. The hill above is St. Annes,conspicuou: great part of Surrey, Bucks, Herts, and Middlesex; delightful for its woods and I did panoramic views, including the winding Thames, Coopers Billcelebrated DenhamHampSteE~d? llighgate, Ilarrow, and mighty Londoa itself; hutstill m tot to the patriotic visitant, as the place where Fox retired to refresh himself for gles for his country. It is a place which Rogers by his pen, and Turner by his made still more sacred. Who does not know the lines of Rogers, in his poen Life, referring to Fox: - - And now once more where most he wished to he, In his own fields, breathing tranquillity We hail himnot less happy, Fox, than thee! Thee at St. Annes so soon of care heguiled, Playful, sincere, and artless as a child~ Thee, who wouldst watch a birds nest on the spray Through the green leaves exploring, day-by day. How oft from grove to grove, from seat to seat, With thee conversing in thy loved retreat I saw the sun go down! Ah, there twas thine Neer to forget some volume half divine, Shakspeares or Drydensthrough the chequered shade Borne in thy hand behind thee, as we strayed: And where we sate, (and many a halt we made,) To read there with a fervor all thine own, And in thy grand and melancholy tone, Some splendid passage not tO thee unknown, Fit theme for long discourse. Thy bell has tolled. 1847.] Abraham Gowley. interest than their more finished writings; we see them in undress, and become ac- quainted with their daily habits and thoughts. Wecopytheletterto Evelyn,as it displays the ea~y natural intercourse that subsisted between two accomplished men. DIsraeli, in Tile Literary makes mention of an originr the poets to Evelyn, where hc his eagerness to see Sir Georg. zies Essay on Solitude, for which he had sent all over to~ obtaining one, being either up or burnt in the fire of Lou BARN ELMS, .Afarcls 23. 1663. am the more desirous, he says Sir,There is nothing more pleasant it is a subject in which I am than to see kindness in a person for whom interested. we have great esteem and respect: no, not We judge Cowleys retirei the sight of your garden in May, or even the the whole, to have been happ having such an one; which makes me more obliged to return you my most hum. joyed it about seven years. ble thanks for the testimonies I have lately vated his garden; attended to received of you, hothby your letter and of his farm; wrote his Essay your presents. I have already sowed such with a thoughtful, cheerful p of your seeds as I thourht most proper, dwelling on the pleasures of upon a hot-bed; but cannot find, in all my life, the dangers surroundir~ books, a catalogue of those plants which fondly informing us of his ta require that culture; nor of such as must and wishes; giving us a tr be set in pots; which defects, and all into his favorite books, wi others, I hope to see shortl.y supplied, as I hope shortly to see your work of horticul- winning communicativeness o ture finished and published; and long tobe e~t friend. We seem to sit h~ in all things your disciple, as I am in all is writing, and perceive and d things -now, sir, your most humble, and ice to a man, so natural, easy a most ohedient servant, A. COWLEY. We eat some fruit of his o~ and he points out to us abunc that he had gathered in the mo the dew on them, before he into the fields; and now the ing in broad masses on the g ble, the harvest has been ~ and he, with a quiet and con is gazing out on the landsr sky;and a bird, on a b branches almost touch the ]o~ is pouring out liquid notes rings, as he sways himself to slender twig. The plough the end of the furrow. He. while out among his laborers neglected at th.e time, and in his mortal career was at an eft- buried between the tombs and Spenser. His appearanc. prepossessing: he had a mild pression of face, flowing lo& full neck, and he wore his c His residence at Chertsey has antiquated, rambling appear a house and grounds as~ d. Leigh Hunt would have ex~ the fancy of Cowley: In another place he writes I know nobody that possesses mora private happiness than you do in your gar- den; and yet no man who makes his hap- piness more public by a free cominunica- tion of the art and knowledge of it to others. All that 1 myself am able yet to do is only to recommend to mankind the search of that felicity which you instruct them lo~vv to find and enjoy. Happy art thou, whom God doth bless With the full choice of thine own happi- ness; And happier yet because thourt blest With prudence how to choose the best; In books and gardens thou hast placed aright (Things which thou well dost understand, And both dust make with thy laborious hand.) Thy noble, innocent delight: And in thy virtuous wife where thou again dost meet Both pleasures more refined and sweet; The fairest garden in her looks, And in her mind the wisest books. I know full well What sort of house should grace my garden-bell A good old country lodge, half hid with blooms Of honied green, and quaint with straggling rooms, A few of which, white-bedded and well swept, For friends, whose, names endeared them, should be kept Abraham Cowley. Of brick Id have it, far more broad than high, ) With green up to the door, and elm-trees nigh; And the warm sun should have it in his eye. ) The tiptoe traveller, peeping through the boughs Oer my low wall, should bless the pleasant house, And that my luck might not seem ill-bestowed, A bench and spring should greet him on the road My grounds should not be large; I like to go To Nature for a range, and prospect too, And cannot fancy shell comprise for me Even in a park, her all-sufficiency. Besides, my thoughts fly far; and when at rest, Love, not a watch-tower, but a lulling nest. But all the ground I had should keep a look Of Nature still, have birds nests and a brook; One spot for flowers, the rest all turf and trees; For Id not grow my own bad lettuces. Id build a wall, however, against the rain, Long, peradventure, as my whole domain, And so be sure of generous exercise, The youth of age and medicine of the wise. And this reminds me that, behind some screen About my grounds, Id have a bowling-green; Such as in wits and merry womens days, Suckling preferred before his walk of bays. You may still see them, dead as haunts of fairies, - By the old seats of Killgrews and Careys, Where all, alas, is vanished from the ring, Wits and black eyes, the skittles and the king. As we are writing a rambling, gossiping essay, we will give the wishes of a few more poets that we think the reader will be pleased with. The next is from Greens Spleen, a poem that has been eulogized by Aiken, Hunt, Hazlitt and. Sir Eger-ton Brydges. Green was a man of tried probity, sweetness of temper and refined manners. Thus he models his desire: Two hundred pounds half-yearly paid, Annuity securely. made, .A farm some twenty miles from town, Small, tight, salubrious, and my own; Two maids that never saw the town, A serving-man not quite a clown, A boy to help to tread the mow, And drive, while tother holds the plough; A chief, of temper formed to please, Fit to converse and keep the keys; And, better to preserve the peace, Commissioned by the name of niece: With understandings of a size - To think their master very ~vmse. May Heaven (its all I wish for) send One genial room to treat a friend, Where decent cup-board, little plate, Display benevolence, no state. And may my humble dwelling stand Upon some chosen spot of land: A pond before, full to the brim, Where cows may cool and geese may swim; Behind, a green, like velvet neat, Soft to the eye and to the feet; Where odorous plants in evens Breathe all around ambrosial a Now follows Bryan Walle true poet and man. Now give me but a cot that% In some great towns neighboi A garden, where the winds m~ Fresh from the blue hills far a And wanton with such trees Their loads of green through Laurel and dusky juniper; So may some friends, whose s- I love, there take their evenir And spend a frequent holiday. And may I own a quiet room, Where the morning sun may - Stored with books of poesy, Tale, science, old morality, Fable, and divine history, Ranged in separate cases roun- Each with living marble crow Here should Apollo stand, an. Isis, with her sweeping hair; Here Phidian Jove, or the fac Of Pallas, or Laocoon, Or Adrians boy Antinous, Or the winged Mercurius, Or some that conquest lately I From the land Italian. And one Id have, whose heal Should rock me nightly to m~ 34 1847.] Abraham Cowley. By holy chains bound fast to me, Faster by Loves sweet sorcery; I would not have my beauty as Juno or Paphian Venus was, Or Dian with her crested moon (Else, haply, she mi~ht change as soon), Or Portia, that hi,,h Roman dame, Or she who set the world on flame, Spartan Helen, who did leave Tier husband-king to grieve, And fled with Priams shepherd-boy, And caused the mighty tale of Troy. She should be a woman who (Graceful without much endeavor) Could praise or excuse all I do, And love me ever. Id have her thoughts fair, and her skin White as the white soul within; And her fringed eyes of darkest blue, Which the great soul looketh throu~, h, Like heavens own gates cerulean; And these id gaze and gaze upon, As did of old Pygmalion. Of Cowleys poetry, we like his Ana- creontics the best; they are full of ani- mation and spirit, and run along with wanton heed and giddy cunning, and appeal both to the fancy and the heart. He rivals the poets of antiquity in ease and elegance. The Chronicle is unique in its kind, for it is said of Cowley that he was in reality never in love but once, and then had not confidence enough to declare his passion. Mar0arita first possest, if I remember well, my breast, Margarita first of all; But when a while the wanton maid - With my restless heart had played, Martha took the flying ball. Martha soon it did resign To the beauteous Catherine. Beauteous Catharine gdve place (Though loath and angry she to part With the possession of my heart) To Elizas conquering face. Eliza to this hour might reign, Had she not evil counsels taen Fundamental laws she broke, And still new favorites she chose, Till up in arms my passions rose And cast away her yoke. Long, alas! should I have been Under that iron-sceptered quee Had not Rebecca set me free. When fair Rebecca set me free, Twas then a golden time wit But soon those pleasures fled For the gracious princess died In her youth and beautys pride And Judith reigned in her st One month, three days and halt Judith held the sovereign po~ Wondrous beautiful her face! But so weak and small her wit, That she to govern was unfit, And so Susanna took her plac But when Isabella came, Armed with a resistless flame And the artillery of her eye Whilst she proudly marched ab. Greater conquests to find out, She beat out Susan by the bye But in her place I then obeyed Black-eyed Bess, her viceroy To whom ensued a vacancy. Thousand worse passions then p The interregnum of my breast: Bless me from such an anarch Gentle Henrietta then, And a third Mary next began, Then Joan, and Jane, and Au And then pretty Thomasine, And then another Catherine, And then a long et cetera. But should I now to you relate The stren.,th and riches of the The powder, patches, and the The ribbons, jewels, and the rin,~ The lace, the paint and warlike~ That make up all their magazi If I should tell the politic arts To take and keep mens hearts The letters, embassies arid spir The frowns, and smiles, and flatt The quarrels, tears and perjuries, Numberless, nameless mysterP And all the little lime-twigs laid By Machiavel, the waiting-mai I more voluminous should grovv Mary then and gentle Anne (Chiefly if I, like them, should tc Both to reign at once began, All change of weathers that befell Alternately they swayed; Than Holinshed or Stow. And sometimes Mary was the fair, - And sometimes Anne the crown did wear, But I will briefer with them be, And sometimes both I obeyed. Since few of them were long w A higher and a nobler strain Another Mary then arose, My present emperess does claim, And did rigorous laws impose; Heleonora, first o the name, A mi,,hty tyrant she! Whom God grant long to reign. VOL. VI.NO. i. 3 343 Omoo. Johnson, for a wonder, appreciated the flavor of The Chronicle, and has ex- pressed his admiration in nervous and sparkling language. He says that it is a composition unrivalled and alone; such gaiety of fancy, such facility of expres- sion, such varied similitude, such a suc- cession of images, such a dance of words, it is vain to expect except from Cowley. His strength always appears in his agil- ity. His volatility is not the flutter of a light, hut the bound of an elastic mind. His levity never leaves his learning be- hind it; the moralist, the politician and the critic mingle their influences even in this airy frolic of genius. To such a performance Suckling could have brought the gaiety, but not the knowledge ; Dry- den could have supplied the knowledge, hut not the gaiety. Sir Egerton Brydges preferred Cow- leys prose style to that of Addison, and thought that there was nothing more beautiful in the English language, both in matter and style, than his Essays; and Leigh Hunt thinks that there is not a more companionable thing of the sort for a lounge on the grass. Ilazlitt, among Cowleys serious poems, liked The Complaint best, and praises the Odes to Vandyke, the Royal Society, and to the latter Brutus, and thought that his Essays were among the most agreeable prose compositions in the language, being equally recommended by sense, wit, learning, and interesting personal history; and that his portrait well, for truth of outline am coloring, migbt~vie with the m~ of the Greek and Latin hist was the opinion of Campbell; Cowley written nothing hut would have stamped him ~ genius and an improver of the Cowleys character appears be as delightful as his writings tercourse with the worldand cipally carried on in courts= paired the sweetness, simpli clear-sightedness of his nature for his daily companions a chec an innocent conscience, an(l ments of gospel books. Hi: and independence never left friends he made in youth were to his premature death (for such help calling it), at the age of although he had accomplished enjoyed much.* His Essays impress of an enlightened, oh: tellect; and the child-like aff implicit faith with which he d inmost thoughts, make him w read and admired with Hor taigne and Rousseau. With flowers, fit emblems of Compass your poet round; Witb flowers of every fragranti Be his warm ashes crowned OMOO. IT was in an unguarded moment that the writer of these lines was drawn into promising an article for the issue of sultry midsummer. A lovely afternoon in the middle of June, he was walking alone in a grove, meditating and breathing the sweet air, when the Editorial Power met him, and from that hour to this his soul has n6t known peace. Had we reflected that all the days of the interim were to be equally invitingthat the fields were to be as green and fragrant as the valleys of Tahiti, and more refreshing in their fragrance, since the odors of our own country summers are wafted Sabean shore of cbildhood~ thought ourselves that we mm our afternoons so many hours prime of the yearwe could 1 been so rash, to oblige any other Power, ever so pen-co not even stern Necessity. seemed so easythe fancy s loves to wander away to islands whither the romance has been gradually banished peared the lightest task that run off a few pages giving ~ lie was the friend of, and beloved by, Evelyn, Sir Keneirn Dighy, Sir Her Harvey, Vandyke, and Hobbes.

G. W. P. P., G. W. Omoo 36-46

343 Omoo. Johnson, for a wonder, appreciated the flavor of The Chronicle, and has ex- pressed his admiration in nervous and sparkling language. He says that it is a composition unrivalled and alone; such gaiety of fancy, such facility of expres- sion, such varied similitude, such a suc- cession of images, such a dance of words, it is vain to expect except from Cowley. His strength always appears in his agil- ity. His volatility is not the flutter of a light, hut the bound of an elastic mind. His levity never leaves his learning be- hind it; the moralist, the politician and the critic mingle their influences even in this airy frolic of genius. To such a performance Suckling could have brought the gaiety, but not the knowledge ; Dry- den could have supplied the knowledge, hut not the gaiety. Sir Egerton Brydges preferred Cow- leys prose style to that of Addison, and thought that there was nothing more beautiful in the English language, both in matter and style, than his Essays; and Leigh Hunt thinks that there is not a more companionable thing of the sort for a lounge on the grass. Ilazlitt, among Cowleys serious poems, liked The Complaint best, and praises the Odes to Vandyke, the Royal Society, and to the latter Brutus, and thought that his Essays were among the most agreeable prose compositions in the language, being equally recommended by sense, wit, learning, and interesting personal history; and that his portrait well, for truth of outline am coloring, migbt~vie with the m~ of the Greek and Latin hist was the opinion of Campbell; Cowley written nothing hut would have stamped him ~ genius and an improver of the Cowleys character appears be as delightful as his writings tercourse with the worldand cipally carried on in courts= paired the sweetness, simpli clear-sightedness of his nature for his daily companions a chec an innocent conscience, an(l ments of gospel books. Hi: and independence never left friends he made in youth were to his premature death (for such help calling it), at the age of although he had accomplished enjoyed much.* His Essays impress of an enlightened, oh: tellect; and the child-like aff implicit faith with which he d inmost thoughts, make him w read and admired with Hor taigne and Rousseau. With flowers, fit emblems of Compass your poet round; Witb flowers of every fragranti Be his warm ashes crowned OMOO. IT was in an unguarded moment that the writer of these lines was drawn into promising an article for the issue of sultry midsummer. A lovely afternoon in the middle of June, he was walking alone in a grove, meditating and breathing the sweet air, when the Editorial Power met him, and from that hour to this his soul has n6t known peace. Had we reflected that all the days of the interim were to be equally invitingthat the fields were to be as green and fragrant as the valleys of Tahiti, and more refreshing in their fragrance, since the odors of our own country summers are wafted Sabean shore of cbildhood~ thought ourselves that we mm our afternoons so many hours prime of the yearwe could 1 been so rash, to oblige any other Power, ever so pen-co not even stern Necessity. seemed so easythe fancy s loves to wander away to islands whither the romance has been gradually banished peared the lightest task that run off a few pages giving ~ lie was the friend of, and beloved by, Evelyn, Sir Keneirn Dighy, Sir Her Harvey, Vandyke, and Hobbes. 1847.] Ornoo. place estimate of its merits, and selecting some of the most striking passages, after the approved custom of reviewers. Here, aga in, we deceived ourselves; for spun re-reading the b~ok, we find that what we wasted a couple of hours over very agreeably, is n t strong enough to bear up a somewhat careful review, which it most ce tainly deserved, if it deserves anything, at our hands; so that we must look for a reason for taking so much notice of it as to write an article, rather in the luterest with which it has been, and will continue for a while o he, received, by the readers of cheap litera- ture, than bywhat we feel in it ourselves. Flence, we come to our task unwillingly; and were it not that something orvg4t to he said respecting (~moo, more than has yet been, we should prefer almost any other subject. Perhaps it is Cr m this feeling that we have a difficulty in arranging our thoughts into order, and so beginning what we would say in the regular man- ner. in general, and at first, we can harel~observe that we have read Omoo with interest, and yet with a perpetual recoil. We were ready to ack~ owledge that it was written with much powe that the style, though loose in sentences and paragraphs, was not without charac- ter, and the pictures it resented vividly drawn; yet we were ready to say, in the words of the old epigram 1 do not like thee, Doctor Fell, & c. The reckless spirit which betrays itself ois every page of the bookthe cool, sneering wit, and the perl~ct want bE Aetr everywhere manifested in it, make it repel, almost as much as its voluptuous scenery-painting and its sk tehy outlines of stories attract. It is curious to ob- serve how much difficulty the newspapers have had in getting at these causes of dislike. They are evidently not pleased with the hook; hutas most ~vriters would, sitting down to write a hasty notice of it immediately after running it throughthe (laily critics find nothing worse to say respecting it than that they do not believe it. Generally, all over the country, in most of the newspapers which we have seen, (and our opportunities are quite as extensive as a y one could de- sire,) this has been the burden of the short notices of the press, where intended to be at all critical. And, generally, too, the reason for not believing in the truth of Typees and Omoos stories is not given; bet the writers conte with manifesting their incre naf or querulous manner amusing. They disbelieve, on the account of improba statements, as from the man the statements are made. East, where every one fond has heard, time out of m captains and retired boat-ste such adventures~~and ther. at~er them so particularly iv. these books~ve doubt if th readers of good perception more than a general belief it They lack vraisein6lance, tb-ny are such adventures as been true, so much is out c the minor points of the na they are reeled off, in su doned spirit, that we cannot The writer does not seem true; he constantly defies faith by his cool supercilie though his preface and the the first volume are some toned, the reader does no second without ceasing to ca he parts company with him. To show what we mean of.keeping in the details of hi let us reach out a hand and~ volume we tone , at the firt comes. Here it ispage 2 The author is describing a in the harbor of Tahiti, whit companion, Doctor Long~Gi took to make in a canoe, so was christened the Pill-B other sailors. Assuming the comuiand c dition, he says, upon the my being a sailor, I packed th tor, with a paddle, in the ho shoving off, leaped into the lea ing him to do all the work ing to myself the dignified steering. All wou. d have gon it not that my paddler made work that the water spattered ~ down upon us without ceasine ing to ply his tool, however, getically, I thought he would i a while, and so let him alone. by, getting wet through wit]- storm we were raisin~,, and see f its clearing off, I conjured h cys name, to stop short and Ic myself out. Upon this he sudc round, when the canoe gave a rigger flew overhead, and the n. 38 Ornoo. came rap on the doctors skull, and we were both in the water. Now, if ever the reader has seen a rattling young fellow come on the stage, in a low comedy or farce, and dash off a soliloquy in the riant style, about his feats at racing, boxing, & c., we think, if he calls to mind the impression, it will strike him as no bad parallel to the spirit of this paragraph. Whoever, for in- stance, has seen Mrs. Hunt, at the Park Theatre, play in the Eton Boy, or any of the successors of Tyrone Power in their favorite dashing Irish characters, will not, we fancy, be at a loss to dis- cover the likeness. We seem, as we read the sentences, to hear the tone of Sir Patrick OPlenipo or Morgan Rattler. Every sentence is so smart, and comes off with such a tang; the easy yet impetuous impudence takes the reader by surprise, and for a moment he cannot help joining in the laugh with a capital good fellow who enjoys himself so much. Hence, on the stage, all this overflowing exhili- ration passes off very well; once or twice we like it, in a new piece, for its own sake; all afterwards is the mere secondary critical enjoyment of estimating the merit of the actorthe same with that of a wine-connoisseur, who sips champagne only to exercise his judgment. But when it is continued through two volumes, and appears on almost every page, one be- gins to weary of it even at the first, and before the end to lose his respect fQr a writer who can play the buffoon so de- liberately. Hence, we could never read those long modern Irish novels and sketches, Charles OMalley, and the rest. Every sentence goes off with a pop, which with many readers renders such writing very popular; but for our own part, we soon become tired of so much firing of blank cartridges. The liveliest wit, the quickest humor, the most biting satire, are those which are used with an earnest purpose, and we like not that a man should give himself to the work of writing a whole book, in whatever manner, with. out showing us some such earnestness in his own character. It will not do for ships that carry a great cloud of canvas to go too light; even Punch would soon found- er if he were not so hearty a radical. But it is not in its spirit alone that this paragraph is a fair sample of the care- lessness which every page of Omoo ex- hiUits. If we turn back to the 27ih page of the first volume, where this Doctor Long-Ghost is introduced, it I: quoted Virgil, and talked of I Malmesbury, beside repenting the canto, especially Hudibras. moreover a man who had world. He had more anec 1 can tell ofthen such mellow as he sungupon the whole L was as entertaining a compan could wish; and to me in the absolute god-send. We fear himself could scarcely return pliment paid him in the last His cool young friend whom tamed so much, afterwards gets writes a book in which he cc represent him as playing Pant~ own Harlequin, whenever he him. Is it likely that the Dot is here described, could havc simple as he is sometimes sho~. shrewd as he is seen at others of the world, a good story-tel jest, a jolly coml)aniOn, is or. time depicted as a sort of Domi son, or mere foil to set off if smartness, while the other h pears in his original shape. for all in all, he is an impose ster, a battered wooden Sold: our Sir Oliver Proudfute has the garden of his fancy to brc self upon. He has no keeping more a character than those sin tions of the melodrama, who ~ by the necessities of the story, nothing to do hut to conform igencies xvhi ch gave them bii tragic or comic, natural or ex as occasioli requires. This same want of keepir. not more in our authors chara ing, and in the course of his L at large, than in the minute of his narratives. He makes striking picture, and, as we sk over one after another, it does r occur to us at first to questior of the details. But when we look at them through a secon these details are seen to he thro. such a hold disregard of natur: congruity as one could never p was painting from the actual. ample the story of the upsettir noe continues thus: Fortunately we were just o~ of coral, not half a fathom und- face. Depressing one end of th. noe and letting go of it quickly, up, and discharged a great part 1847.] Omoo. tents; so that we easily baled out the remainder and again embarked. This time my comrade coiled himself away in a very small space; and, enjoining upon him not to draw a single unnecessary breath, I pro- ceeded to urge the canoe along by myself. I was astonished at his docility, never speaking a word, and stirring neither hand nor foot; but the secret was he was unable to swim, and, in case we met with a second mishap, there were no more ledges beneath to stand upon. Drown- ings but a shabby way of going out of the world, he exclaimed, upon my rallying him, and I am not going to be guilty of it. Now the reader will observe that there is certainly some keeping in these two paragraphsthis, and the one before quoted. The jester, singer, story-teller, jolly companion, our poor Doctor, is made to behave with the same Parson Adams-like simplicity in both cases. But consider a moment the likelihood of such a series of incidents happening as here set down: Here are Typee and the Doctor, on shore, going to steal out to a ship in the little canoe called the Pill Box; now, though a craft with that name might have been deemed safer for him- self by the Doctor, yet, seeing he could not swim, one would suppose he would have some misgivings, lest the two pills, or one of them, might be rather sudden- ly administered to the sharks, and would naturally have mentioned the fact of his not being able to swim to his cornpan- ion. They had been cronies together a long while; the Doctor was a free man; he could not have been so weak as to risk his life by concealing, from mere pride, a want of ability nobody is ashamed to own, when a confession might have in part at least avoided such a risk. No, he would have told Typee, before they started, that he ~could not swim. Typee, my boy, he would have said, avast there, my hearty! Shiver my topsails, hut I cant swim cant (he could quote 1-Ludibras) dive like wild fowl for salvation, that is, to save myself. So be careful. The read- er may put it to his common sense, after reading Omoo up to that page, whether the Doctor could not and would not have made known, in some way, his inability before starlingor at least after the first capsize, when they were about to push out into deep waterand if he had, or had not, would he have coiled himself away, as stated, and would Ty pee have been astonished at until, at some indefinite period Typee, sly dog, found out ii he could not swim? It wc from the sentence, by the - was Typee who never spol may be an error of the presz has faults enough without mi ones. This analyzing a single may seem but mere flaw-I fault-finding, butex uno, etc. v almost the whole of the book, single brick is sandy and e most of the bricks in a house it is fair to exhibit a siagh specimen of the materials ot house is built. Now we re~ this little sketch of the cm represents two men in a drt tion; one a wit, the other We can run through fifty dents done up in the same w terest and pleasure, just at through and enjoy Don Cesa or any other impossible cc wit and stage effect; only v. to have this sort of writing us under any other than its name. It is mere frothy, & lining, that will bear the tc parison with nature as littl scene painting or the picturet paper hangings. If Typee his stories as be does, in the he would be a poor lawyer not make it evident to a jui would not stand sifting; If and flippancy might make a sion while he was giving his chief, but it would take no cross~ examination to bring h credit. The tritest pictures of nat examination by a magnifyimi a painter is not expected to g reotype likenesses. Neither of narrative expected to put cidents of a matter; for the the most tedious day of our~ would fill a folio; but he is ta ture so far as he can and so to rest that we shall seem to se as he saw it. This there are of accomplishing. Some w into detail and yet are full o seeing eyethe imaginati others have this power with tail. Shakspeare could pa landscape, yea, and make it ly real than even if it were Omac. canvas, in a few lines. The heavens breath smells wooingly here ! one can scarcely read that description of Mac- beths castle without inhaling the breath, as in walking over the brow of a hill in summer, when the wind blows upwa d from new-mown meadows. De Foe is the commonly cited instance of excel- lence in the other or detailed style of de- scriptive writing. We have all taken the walk with him where the brook flowed due East and the whole country seem- ed like a planted garden; yet the spell that was over us while we wandered in- to that delicious region, was not one that operated by startling flashes, but by a steady, constant influencethe low mur- muring music that as we read on in hint as ever falling with a gentle lull upon the minds ear. Now in either of these kinds of de- scription, a writer who affects us as true, must have the truth in his; that is, he must have the ideal in his mind which he would paint to us, and must draw and color from that, without being led astray either by his chalk or his colors. He must mean to describe faithfully what is before his minds eye at the outset, and must so control his fancy and so use his language that neither shall mislead either himself or his readers, aside from his purpose. in this tedious process of writ- ing and compelling the fancy to dwell upon far-off scenes, despite the tempta- tions of the present, despite the glory of nature that is around us, despite of mor- tal heaviness, care, passion, personal grief, what infinite trouble is it to keep the impatient spirit under due obedience! Even as we write these sentences, our thoughts are oftener away than they are upon this writing; somewhat has come over us with years, it matters not what, so heavily that we can no more lose ourself, as the phrase goes, in our subject. Other minds may be more happily constituted, but one may observe that those who trust their fancy most and yield to it farthest, are most liable to be led astray by it. It is only the great poets who seem to acquire control in and by the very tempest and whirlwind of their passion7 With what perfect reck- lessness, yet what perfect self-possession, wrote our Shakspeare and Milton! Flight after flight, bolder than was that of him who was borne of Dedalian pinions, is dared and accomplished till it seems as if their will were almost god- like, and gave birth to power. Many times in running thr ugh a Shakspeare hastily, we have same feeling that we experi hearing one of HAKDELs mig russesa kind of mysterious a near presence of such terrible strength; to read the glorion o As you like it rapidly, for affects us like going into th room of one of our great Atlani ers, when she is just starting comparison and one. the readi~ come to smile at if he cannot un or standing by a railroad tin a heavy train is passingany hibition of irresistible force and This feeling we have when xx play rush through the mind crowding upon thought and all and sparkling; but in the mid~ fiery tumult, if we read more ly, the great g~nius as smil placid as the expression of the have of him would tell us he of playfulness, delicacy, gentlc lbr such mental discipline. B mathematics in all the colleges England could never teach it. Nor shall we be likely to l. the author of Qmoo. For thi and discipline of the fancy see just wherein he fails. He hn confidence of genius, 311 its abandonment, bat little of its p0 has written a very attractive ar ble book, but there are few ars- who have an eye for nature an fancy, but who could write one if they had the hardihood could as easily throw off al making the judicious grieve. put to his confession, there is but he would own that, in din tures, he does not rigidly adherc ed image, sombthing that he ha. remembers; that he does not to present his first landscape P strong, rich light, but often, as tive grows road weary, lets it bridle rein of strict veracity on of his fancy, and relieve itself casional canter. At any rate tb we have quoted, and hundreds c are quite as satisfactory evi(lenc does so as would be such an ad But let us thank the aufhc good he has given us before fu1 sidering the bad. We have it pathy with recklessness than xv dient diligence, since it is the more difficultly combining elem 1847.] O,noo. great soul. A man who seems to write without the least misgivingwho dares the high with a constant conceitwill car- ry his point where a modest one, with ten times the inert strength, shall fail. There are men that can live years and ruffle it with the gayest, eat, drink and wear of the best, and owe whomsoever they please, by mere force of countenance, while a nervous one, whom a ladys eye abashes, may be either starving in a gar- ret, or slaving for the ambitious, who catch him with the chaff of friendship. We confess we have more respect for your Brummells, than for your Bnrritts, that eat their way up in the world by devouring lexicons. The latter are good creatures in their way, to be sure; they do all the hard work for us and deserve to gain all they strive after; nay, we do not object to a modest man, for a small party, hut at all times and places, we most especially admire impudencead- mirethe word is not strong enough we cotton to it; we envy it! And if the reader sees the spirit of envy coloring this article, let him attribute it to this feeling. We do most heartily envy the man who could write such a book as Omoo, for nothing disturhs his serenity in the least; he is always in a good humor with himself, well pleased with what he writes, satisfied with his powers, and hence never dull. It must be owned he has some ground for com- placency.. He exhibits, on almost every page, the original ability to he an imagi- native writer of the highest order. Some of his bits of description are very fine, and that in the highest and most poetic way. For instance, this of the Bay of Hannamanoo: On one hand was a range of steep green bluffs, hundreds of feet high; the white huts of the natives, here and there, nest- ling like birds nests in deep clefts, gush- ing with verdure. Across the water, the land rolled away in bright hill-sides, so warm and undulating that they seemed almost to palpitate in the sun. On we swept, past bluff and grove, wooded glen and valley, and dark ravines lighted up, far inland, with wild falls of water. A fresh land-breeze filled our sails; the embayed waters were gentle as a lake, and every blue wave broke with a tinkle against our coppered prow. Now, though palpitate in the sun~~ is not a comparison that would spring up naturally in the mind of any but a wit, and though if the land-breeze blew fresh, the Julia would have carried her mouth, instead of the wa against her prow, as they m~ calm, yet, as we read fast, t~ little view. Another paragrn an example of the good thin. through the book, and is still author writes: Concernin roaches in the forecastle, th extraordinary phenomenon none of us could ever accoi night they had a jubilee. symptom was an unusual dr humming among the swarm. beams overhead, and the in sleeping-places. This was s- a prodigious coming and g part of those living out of sently, they all came forth; sort racing over the chests ~ winged monsters darting to the air; and the small fry heaps, almost in a state of fu: There is no douht about th- of the exaggeration in this la~ meitai the buzzing out- Nor will any one who has the between-decks of an old after she has been smoked posed to deny the truth of thi. There are hundreds of such pressions in Omoo, and as sages of description as good than that we have quoted. I written book; so good,, in fac of ability, we meanof its dency we shall speak presr we are not pleased with it ~ not better. The author has self so very capable of using a and comes, at times, so near that we feel disposed to quari for never exactly reaching bold and self-contained; no c chills the glow of his fancy. he not, before abandoning hi current of Thought, push comes over the great channel Or, not to speak in a parable he not imitate the great des give us pictures that will bear characters true to themselves, that moves everywhere wit peculiar measure? Alas, Omoo finds it easier himself to the pit of the ~v the boxes. His heart is h~i prefers painting himself to th his native land as a jolly, bladea charming, rattling neer-do-well. He meets no 42 Qin 00. his wanderings, whom he seems to care forno woman whom he does not con- sider as merely an enchanting animal, fashioned for his pleasure. Taken upon his own showing, in two volumes, and what is he but what a plain New Eng- lander would call a smart scamp ? The phrase is a hard one, but it is cer- tainly well deserved. Here is a writer who spices his hooks with most incredi- ble accounts and dark hints of innumera- ble amours with the half-naked and half- civilized or savage damsels of Nukuheva and Tahiti.who gets up voluptuous pic- tures, and with cool, deliberate art breaks off always at the right point, so as without offending decency, he may stimulate curi- osity and excite unchaste desire. iViost incredible, we style these portions of his stories, for several reasons. First: He makes it appear always, that he was unusually successful with these poor wild maidens, and that his love-making was particularly acceptable to them. Now, if this had been so, we fancy we should have heard less of it. A true manly mind cannot sit down and coin dramas, such as these he gives us, for either others delectation or its own. It is nothing new to hear conceited men boast of their perfect irresistibleness with the sex. Oh, it is the easiest thing in the world, we remember, one of these gentry used to say, a Ia Mantalini; a woman is naturally cunning, now only you keep cool and youll soon see through her; a man must look out for himsel.f, a woman for herself, & c. This very per- son, as we happened to know, through a confidential medical friend, could no more, at that very time, when his conversation was in this lofty strain, have wronged a woman, than Charteris could have com- mitted the crime for which he was hung. Since then, and confirmed by various other experience, we have al ways doubted when we hear a man, especially on a short acquaintance, and most especially in a book that goes to the public, pluming himself on his virilityletting it be no secret that he is a very devil among the women. Once, at a refectory in , we were supping with a friend, when, the tables being full, there came a little, long-necked, falling-shouldered, pumpkin-faced young man, and took the end of ours. We exchanged a few words, and presently he dashed, without previ- ous preparation, into a full confession of what he styled his peculiar weakness, in which, if we were to believe him, he let out enough to show that have out-bidden the Satyrs, for the favors of Helena. C who has command of visage, on till he could not help sin own lies. We made inquiry, a afterwards that he was a shei or some such sort of thing, an name was Joseph. Now, with a thousand such sleeping in the memory of have no sort of confidence ir who paints himself the hero oi ous adventures. Suppose any you or I, gentle reader=- through the scenes Oinoo d mightyea, even the best of done as badly as he represen to have done; cast away f and country, drifting about on the world, surrounded by 1k brimfull of animal health, very probably have made sad from the path of rectitude, we have come home and told the contrary, we should hay dark about the matter as pos: nothing but some overmasteri or~ motive could - ever have m veal it. Native manhood is as maidenhood, and when a n~ in his licentiousness, it raises presumption that he is effete nature or through decay. And this remark leads to rea~on for doubting the cre these amours. Taking the e imbecility afforded by the rc given, in conjunction with all would have us believe he di does not speak out in plain v old Capt. Robert Boyle), and be possible, without Sir Epic mons wished-for elixir, that have the physical ability to plo deceiver at such a rate am brawny islanders. This body very yielding it is true, and if solutely sets his mind to imbru he may go a great way; but a of such riotous life would hay for one so Rroud of his explo deed, this very display is not result than one of the causes conditionperhaps it is both). Thirdly. We do not believe ries, for the reason that those p maids could not possibly have as Omoo describes them; the half so attractive. We have drawings of Catlin, the elabora 1S47 J Omoo. engravings of the South American In. dians, Humboldt, Deprez, also some of New Zealand and those of our Exploring Expedition, and never yet saw we a por- trait of a female half so attractive as~ the dumpiest Dutch butter-woman that walks our markets. Time out of mind we have heard whaling-captains dilate on the Marquesan beauties, hut we always re- flected that they appeared under peculiar advantages to the eyes of rough frien just from long, greasy cruises, being somewhat negligently clad and without any of the restraint of civilization. Omoo may titillate the appetites of many of his readers by describing how he swung in a basket for hours at Tahiti with some particular friends of his, but he touches us not a jot. He is quite welcome to his particular friends, they are not ours. The next stout boat- steerer that came along, with a rusty nail or a shred of an old bandana hand- kerchief, would disturb, we fear, our domestic felicityknock us out of the basket, and go to swinging himself. It seems necessary nowadays, for a hook to be vendible, that it be venomous, and, indeed, venereous. Either so, or else it must be effeminatepure, because passionless. The manliness of our light literature is curdling into licentiousness on the one band and imbecility on the other; witness such books as Omoo, and the namby-pamby Tennysonian poetry we have of late so much of. Hence, authors who write for immediate sal~ are obliged to choose their department and walk in it. In some cases it is pos- sible some have assumed vices which they had not, and in others affected an ignorance of temptation which was by no means their condition. We are wil- ling to believe that Omoo is not so bad as he would hav~us think. He is merely writing in character, and it seemed ne- cessary to pepper high. He may have more heart than he exhibits; and in a few months, ~shen the last edition of his books has been sold, and all the money made from them that ever can be, he may repent him that he did not aim nobler. At the worst, he is no such chief of sinners that we need single him out for special condemnation. Have we not Don Juan? Is not the exhaustless in- vention of Gaul coining millions out of natures frailty ? When we consider the crimes of some of the modern novel- writers, Omoo seems but a juvenile offender. But we must not deal too with him neither. That he i: langi whose heart is set in i evil, appears no less by his g~ his misdeeds, than by the spin fests towards the Christian t those ignorant pagans, whose did all in his power to foster. shark is on his forehead, and palpable a barbarian as any New Zealander we ever saw with jacket wrong side beforc that till then never knew sho. the streets of New Bedford. the missionaries. This is evid ever he has occasion to meni and wherever there is room fc sneer at the little good they ha plished. He was evidently them. It does not appear that their acquaintance; but, from way of speaking of them, ther not fail to gather the impressi kept out of their way as muc sible. The spirit which he towards them is what we sho- him to exhibit after his disp~ success with the damsels, hi lar friends. But the two ~ tralize each ether. A native c tian land, well-educated, and reputation for truth and vera is to say, any man in his se the common feelings of hums worthy of belief, would have to make himself known to th aries, or indeed to any one in ti and isolated spot who could sy lish; on the other hand, a under those circumstances, si endeavor to make himself s hut should prefer to associate savages, ought not to be entit dit when he speaks slighting results of missionary labor. missionaries have not done all wisely as they might, had tho more; that they have been, a many resliects wrong and in be very true; but Omoo is noi to tell us so. He, who, by his fession, never did anything to ers while he was among them himself with their pecuhiaritie~ them for his appetites, is not I come home here and tell us th~ aries are doing little or nothi prove them. All he did tende them worse, and it would be 01 racter if he should have now lent purpose in so coloring his 44 Ornoo. as to make it appear that the missiona- ries are making them no better. We are ourselves forced to believe the accounts of the good the missionaries have effected in far countries exaggerated. We cannot help thinking that in general, the men who most frequently abandon home and country and votunteer to spend their lives in teaching Christianity and civ- ilization in those benighted lands, are not the best who might be selected out of enlightened society at large. Some that were our classmates and cotemporaries in college, are now, and have been for years, preaching to heathen nations in the far corners of the earth, and certain- ly, they were men, as we remember them, of all others, least likely to un- derstand the untutored savage. They came from the workshop, and were edu- cated by public societies; their minds were narrow; they had no tact; late in life they became suddenly religious, and in all their intercourse with men there- after, they were right and others vrong. How well we remember some of them. Redhafred B, as the students called hima shoemaker, reclaimed from his way of life at the age of thirty-fivethe most disagreeable man out of two hun- dred, opinionated, small, conceited, sol- emn and rigid; he milked the Presidents cow, studied hard, and was the terror of all the mirth-loving in the University. He is now, we believe, in Burmah. What such a man can do among the Hin- doos, it is difficult to conceive. -For there never was a yankee more inveterate- ly bigoted to his own ways, and the ways of his own little sphere, in the whole world. We might particularize many more, and so vivid is our remembrance of many, and so strong our conviction that they were very, very far from being the best men that should be sent to spread the blessed influences of our re- ligion among the nations who sit in darkness, that we should, we fear, in enlarging upon the subject, so far from exciting suspicion of any prejudice in favor of the beneficial effects of mission- ary enterprise, offend many of our read- ers by appearing to think too lightly of it. Still, unsuitable as many of the teach- ers are who go out among the heathen, narrow, unreasonable, and unphilosophi- cal, as may be their modes of conversion, and notions of goodness, they are at least sincere in their purpose of doing all the good they can. The poor natural- minded dwellers in the isles of the sea may not happily, perhaps, comprehend the sombre m& their teachers; but all that is ful in them, all that leads daily life, they can follow. have faith; they can be c know that the sins prohibite commandments are wrong; taught many of the arts an the refinement of civilizatio the missionaries, they must better for them than do such as Omoo, and though the nex hard to conform to, they cann norant as not to perceive that they are good. If but here one of a superior mind glimpse into the sublime he future spiritual life, it is suB weighed against whatever mi~ teachers may have fallen into. In fine we cannot help hr missionary influencc to be beneficial than this book rep perhaps it is true that the lo of the people are afraid of th ries; the missionaries may ha necessary to keep them so. F whole condition of the people still very bad, yet we will not 1 have been so bad as he makes (alas, the island is now in th the French!) ~Te have am~ for discrediting his evidence, own admissions, from the spin where manifests in giving his and from the unreasonablenr statements. It is to preserve barbarians as much as possible as he tells us he was that the ries remain exiled among th~ that they ever did learn of goc through those pious, or it sometimes been fanatical, However defective the teachin er misguided the enthusiasm, aided this work of benevolenc. not hut have some confidence cere endeavors of honest m. through the pages of Omoo, th aries affect us like some myste ful presence, some invisible ~ delights in exercising arbitrary the poor natives, without any motiveit cahnot be so. M change their natures by sail thousand miles over the rotund orb. The missionaries did n~ to harass and torture people, not in the nature of things that the climate affects their 1S47j Ornoo. turns plain men and women into abso- lute fools. The contact of savage with civilized life, is always the worse for the former, and no nations have ever suffered more severely than the unfortunate Poly- nesians; it is a duty the enlightened of the earth owe those whose bodies they have poisoned with their fell iliseases, to do all that can be done for their souls. Let us, therefore, have other subjects for satirical writing, than missionary ill success. We have now finished the most of what seemed necessary to be said con- cerning Omoo. We first examined its merits as apieceof description, then con- sidered it more especially with reference to its spirit, in what it leaves us to infer of the writers intercourse with the na- tives, and what he tells us of their re- ligious condition. We have felt obliged, as a conservative in literature, (and what true lover of literature is not one,) to say many severe thingsthe more severe, because they are against the tone and spirit of the book, and therefore apply more directly to its author. But ii the reader will observe how cautious we have been to praise all that is good in the hook, to the extent of making our article wear two faces, he will not sus- pect us of any malicious design. And if he will read the hook itself, we have con- fidence that, notwithstanding all the extravagant encomiums it has received from the press, he will be ready to ad- mit that we have not been studyingto say the worst things of it that might be said, but only to estimate it fairly. The result of all we have said only brings us back to the remark with which we com- menced, viz: that Omoo is a book one may read once with interest and pleasure, but with a petpet 1 recoil. lt is poeti- cally written, but yet carelessly, and in a bad spirit. Of the truth of this general estimate of its merit the reader will judge for himself. But there is one more point, before leaving iton which a word or two may be said, with some chance of good effect. Some of the notices of it in the papers require a little notice themselves. Here, for example, is one frbm a Boston Daily: It has all the attractiveness of a book of travels, abounding in passages of wit, ro- mance and poetry, and written with all the mellow elegance of style that characterized the authors Typee. It cannot fail to be popular, and while in some respects, it re- sembles Mr. Dsnas Two Years before the Mast, it is a much more racy a ting work. Now it is not the business of er to furnish people with unde nor to teach common plain tru which every reader ought to I and fixed opinions. But in thi ened age, we have constantly c writer is in much danger of ( the knowledge of the public. many editors in various part country, whose opinions woul be no clearer than those express. they are men of some edu~at~ read reviews; hence we hope cious will not feel grieved if v~ safe a word for their instruction. then, Omoo is no more to be co- Mr. DAKAs book, than is a ri. built cottage, such as we have in the vicinity of the city to a hal mansion of fair proportion one may catch glimpses of o hill-sides, when the cars are at is unfinished and unfurnished, uniformity, tawdry, and co The portraits and pictures that the walls are but daubs comp~ the faces and landscapes in I Omno has plenty of daring and ness, but not that steady, manl~ which would enable him to easy, rich flowing descriptive st flies like a lapwing; is alwa anti falling; we cannot feel sec him. His best descriptions, tho and vivid, will not bear close in and do not seem colored with tri in Mr. DANAS narrative, it is r ble to doubt a single statement; heard it more praised for tha than for any other, and that b tent judges; once in particula gartown, two summers agu, w~ her with what emphasis a retired captain said to us: I have bc. and down that coast, and every that book is true. Yet those capable of judging of style will its truth, its first, greatest, and i ity, is by no means its onI lence. It is a finished work o every page shows the trained the manly intention. The style at first, but, as the narrative rises almost imperceptibly to el and to poetic effects of a far bia than the dashy paragraphs of 0 But, unfortunately, what Om in one place of the Tahitians 413 Chief-Justice Smith. missionaries has too much application to the course of it, upon the g~ our public and himself. The Tahitians, scapes of those fair islands he observes, con hardly ever be said to read of so well, and to ha reflect; and so the missionaries give them why it comes that the fanc~ large type, pleasing cuts, and short and roam among them. We m easy lessons of the primer. He has enlarged upon the various himself evidently profited by his observa- make calamity of life to p tions of the missionary system, and his posed people in this wretci success shows that large type and pleas- enterprise, and then to ha ing cuts, indifferently executed, are no how naturally we turn to less attractive here than at Papeetee. better promise. But this An elaborate, quietly-written, artist-like been forgetting that the act work, will be rated by the general in the much the same everywher same catalogue with one that is a mere here, although we may be sketchy thing of the hour. It is very hope and happiness, in mi true, and one may see it in other arts, as estate, we are, on the whc well as in writing, that it is only the than we should be there; ~ coarser parts of the most refined works that all such reflections to the are understood, and that one who chooses perchance, may never ha to obtain credit, with the vulgar, for ex - wrought upon as to discuss cellence, may always do it if he will re- whether it were not better solutely set his face backward. Time, gade to civilization, and to however, is a great purifier, and it is fore, our speculations wou refreshing to think how sure the world is, mere sentimental melanchol in the end, to find out the true and beau- rather he should rejoice wit tiful, and how tenaciously it clings to ing; there is cause to be me them when they are discovered, is yet high, and the gree. We had intended, when we began this woody hills of West Hobok article, to have expatiated, somewhere in ing for us. CHIEF-JUSTICE SMITH. IT is not until recently, amid thee press of various engagements, that we have found time to glance over the handsomely printed pages of the Life of Jeremiah Smith, drawn up, from authentic mate- rials, by his kinsman, the Rev. Mr. Morison.* The high character of Judge Smith, as a jurist and statesman, was well known and appreciated beyond the narrow confines of his native State; and his biographer, although a relative as well as friend, appears to have done no more than simple justice to his memory. We therefore welcome Mr. Morisons hook as a valuable contribution to a de- partment of literature greatly neglected in this country, or, what is worse, grossly mis-appropriated. Of good biographers we have very few. Biographia Ameri- cana is yet to be written. Works we have, unfortunately, which are imperfect and iiicomplete: garbled views sometimes of the biogr times of the party for who presenting only one side of the light without the shad degenerating into indiscrimi Of such books we have a p ing the lives and characters really deserve remembrance memory is crushed beneat panegyric, heartless as the tion upon a lying monume have scores of books ann upon the public sacred to of~~ country parsons, or viP whose fame has spread miles around. Nearly onc only book that vaunts i~ American Biographical Dict cupied by sketches and eul who have no claim to the 1 Life of the Hon. Jeremiah Smith, L.L.D., Member of Congress during administration, Judge of the United States Circuit Court, Chief Justice of Ne~ etc. By John H. Morison. l2mo. pp. 516. Boston, Little & Brown. 1845.

Chief-Justice Smith 46-53

413 Chief-Justice Smith. missionaries has too much application to the course of it, upon the g~ our public and himself. The Tahitians, scapes of those fair islands he observes, con hardly ever be said to read of so well, and to ha reflect; and so the missionaries give them why it comes that the fanc~ large type, pleasing cuts, and short and roam among them. We m easy lessons of the primer. He has enlarged upon the various himself evidently profited by his observa- make calamity of life to p tions of the missionary system, and his posed people in this wretci success shows that large type and pleas- enterprise, and then to ha ing cuts, indifferently executed, are no how naturally we turn to less attractive here than at Papeetee. better promise. But this An elaborate, quietly-written, artist-like been forgetting that the act work, will be rated by the general in the much the same everywher same catalogue with one that is a mere here, although we may be sketchy thing of the hour. It is very hope and happiness, in mi true, and one may see it in other arts, as estate, we are, on the whc well as in writing, that it is only the than we should be there; ~ coarser parts of the most refined works that all such reflections to the are understood, and that one who chooses perchance, may never ha to obtain credit, with the vulgar, for ex - wrought upon as to discuss cellence, may always do it if he will re- whether it were not better solutely set his face backward. Time, gade to civilization, and to however, is a great purifier, and it is fore, our speculations wou refreshing to think how sure the world is, mere sentimental melanchol in the end, to find out the true and beau- rather he should rejoice wit tiful, and how tenaciously it clings to ing; there is cause to be me them when they are discovered, is yet high, and the gree. We had intended, when we began this woody hills of West Hobok article, to have expatiated, somewhere in ing for us. CHIEF-JUSTICE SMITH. IT is not until recently, amid thee press of various engagements, that we have found time to glance over the handsomely printed pages of the Life of Jeremiah Smith, drawn up, from authentic mate- rials, by his kinsman, the Rev. Mr. Morison.* The high character of Judge Smith, as a jurist and statesman, was well known and appreciated beyond the narrow confines of his native State; and his biographer, although a relative as well as friend, appears to have done no more than simple justice to his memory. We therefore welcome Mr. Morisons hook as a valuable contribution to a de- partment of literature greatly neglected in this country, or, what is worse, grossly mis-appropriated. Of good biographers we have very few. Biographia Ameri- cana is yet to be written. Works we have, unfortunately, which are imperfect and iiicomplete: garbled views sometimes of the biogr times of the party for who presenting only one side of the light without the shad degenerating into indiscrimi Of such books we have a p ing the lives and characters really deserve remembrance memory is crushed beneat panegyric, heartless as the tion upon a lying monume have scores of books ann upon the public sacred to of~~ country parsons, or viP whose fame has spread miles around. Nearly onc only book that vaunts i~ American Biographical Dict cupied by sketches and eul who have no claim to the 1 Life of the Hon. Jeremiah Smith, L.L.D., Member of Congress during administration, Judge of the United States Circuit Court, Chief Justice of Ne~ etc. By John H. Morison. l2mo. pp. 516. Boston, Little & Brown. 1845. 1S47.J CJhief-fu3tice Smith. of the world at largewho were perhaps honest as the world goes, devout in their several modes of faith, or skillful in re- lieving the ills that flesh is heir towell enough in their proper places, but undis- tingnished above their neighbors, except hy the poor notoriety which a scrap- hook biography may chance to give. Strike from our biographical collections the long list of names of this character, and we would still present, for a young nation, a roll of great and good men, which may go far to excuse the national vanity of which we are sometimes rather unceremoniously accused. Add to our written biography the lives of some truly great men, whose history has heen strangely neglected, through party vio- lence or sectarian prejudice, and the vanity to which we have alluded might have just grounds for all its amplitude. We knew Judge Smith of New Hamp- shire, although forty years our senior. We have seen him in the prime and vigor of his days, at the bar, on the bench, and in the char of state; and his history is familiar t6 us. His family was distin- guished for energy of character. His father and maternal grandfather were of the number of Scotch Presbyterians who abandoned their little colony in the north of Ireland, and sought a refuge from per- secution in the land where liberty dwells. They were of a hardy and stalwart race, distinguished for personal activity, industry, and thrift. They formed settlements at Londonderry and other places in New Hampshire, and were the first who introduced the manu- facture of linen into New England. They were the first, also, who introduced the culture of the potatoe into New Hamp- shire. The grandfather.of Judge Smith, who died at Peterborough in 1776, at a great age, was among the sufferers in the cele- brated siege of the city of Londonderry, and used often to recount the horrorsof that siege. He used to tell of watching for hours at a mouse-hole, in the hope of catching a mouse for food; and he most eloquently described the intense anxiety they felt in the city, when, after nearly two-thirds of their number had died of hunger, they saw a frigate coming to their relief; the sinking of the heart when twice she had vainly tried to hreak the boom which had been thrown across the river; and then the violent change from (lespair to the frenzied be- wilderment of joy, when, at the third at- tempt, she finally succeeded an(l bringing food to the starvin~ itants. The father of Judge Smith it bered as a modest, discreet, ar gentleman. No man in the infa ment was more resl)ected for stantial qualities of mind and c He was a justice of the peacc 1774, a member of the first P Congress in New Hampshire. he mar. ied Elizabeth Morison, of energy and spirit, and an manager of household affairs, stan(ling she could keep the sc ing. As an illustration of the s of their mode of life, it is menti( two silk gowns wbich Mrs. 5- hefore she was married, were ones she ever owned, and are the possession of her grand She never wore them, even to ~except on sacrament days, and children were to be baptized. I aprons, the only article of finery herself or daughters, were was plaited once a year. They wer in the hand, put on as they were the meeting-house, and folded u last singing. All the brothers of Judge Sm lived to mans estate, were distii for their intellectual powers; an. biographer says, If we may who knew them fourscore ye there was not a more uncouth, i- hungry-looking set of lads in of Peterhorough. They wei workers, and put to work almost as they could walk. It was not thing to provide food for sev. boys. To this day, in their nati~ it is told, as the reason of their - sharp~witted,that on returning o from some frolic, they in the dat upon and devoured what they to be a dry codfish; but their the next day, wishing to make a was in great distress at the los; rennet! The career of Judge Smith distinguished above that of som cotemporaries in the Granite c wealth ; but possessing the shr and sagacity characteristic of 1 Scot, and a native vivacity, ut~it colloquial powers of the hi~he~ he acquired a wide influence in th cils, and among the people of hi. State, and for a long l)eriod was living exponent of the faith, and 48 Chief Justice Smith. the long dominant political party, to whose original principles he adhered through life. He was a federalist of the school of Washington. It is principally in relation to his connection and influence with that party in New Hampshire, and the salutary ju(licial reforms which he was instrumental in effecting, that his history becomes interesting. The princi- pal events of his life may be summed up as follows: JEaEMIAH SMITH was the fifth of seven sons in a family of ten, the children of William Smith, one of the first settlers of Peterborough, New Hampshire. He was horn the 29th November, 1759, bred to the hardy and health-giving pursuits of agriculture, trained up in reverence for tIe ordinances of religion in the spirit of the early Presbyterians, and in early childhood imbibing the love of books, soon- exhibited acquisitions far beyond those of his brothers, and other children~ of his age. His memory was retentive, in a remarkable degree, and the good minister of the place having occasionally listened in surprise to his prompt recita- tion of whole chapters in the Bible, at once conceived the idea that Jerry, as lie was called, must be sent to college. This boy, said he to the father, must be made a minister, and you must bring him up to college. Thus by de- grees it came to he understood in the family that he was to be educated for the ministry. He entered Harvard College in 1777. His academical preparation had been in part pursued at Hollis, in the family, and under the tuition of the clergyman of that place, who was a sam- ple of the old Puritan stock, and pro- fessedly rigid in all customary observ- ances. The annual fast-day in New Eng- land, which has been observed in the spring of the year from the first settle- ment of the country, was observed in olden time in literal abstinence from all food. The good clergyman of flollis taught his congregation, and in his family professed to observe this rule. One evening before fast-day, one of his fel- low-students said to Smith, You had better lay in a good stock, for you will get nothing to eat to-morrow. He did not heed the warning; but when the next morning came, there were no signs of breakfast. He went to church, and came home half-starved and angry, as hungry lads are wont to be; but his anger and disgust could scarcely be re- strained, when, through the half-open door of the best room, he s rend teacher devouring drc custards! Judge Smith, in a to relate this incident, and pression it made upon his yc as illustrating the differe profession and practice, and easier it is to make preter. living, than to live a holy this hour his mind was preju entering the clerical profess: When the news of Burg sion reached New Hamp~ Smith took it into his head two months campaign in volunteers from New lpswi borough, commanded byCaj~ Parker. While on their mar army, a part of the compa command of Lieutenant Sam ham, fell into an ambusc~ Cunningham, who was a m and courage, and who had 1 stentor, called out in loud tc the officers to flank the en. reserve, when the tories, sup selves to be outnumbered, fled. Young Smith fough the ranks at the battle of got a scratch by a muske neck, and with it enougV experience. He used to music of musket-balls he hr tion to hear a second time. After remaining two yea. Mr. Smith was entered (Rutgers) College, in New he was graduated in 1780. Peterborotigh, he was for a liberating as to his choice of and finally, in 1782, decid study of the law. In the had busied himself in rural had so ingratiated himself w of the town, that in Januar elected him a delegate to ii for adopting their State He commenced the study o sion at Barnstable, Massac wards taught school to r& nances, and completed his i Salem. He was admitted his native county in the .p He was met at the threshol fessional career by an OPIIG gular as it was illiberal, hut ertheless served to put him his mettle. The bar rules of ~hosc more stringent than in lat. the old lawyers, who were 1S47.] Chief-Justice Smith. think themselves entitled to a monopoly of the business, did not choose to treat with much favor the applications of new candidates for admission to the bar. After a rigid examination, however, Mr. Smith was found to be fully qualified in his studies; and after a good deal of shuffling it was found that the only ob- jection that could be made was, that no certificate had been filed showing that his studies of the law had been for the full period required for admission to the bar. It was now the last day but one of the term, and the bar, unwilling to favor a new rival, rejected his application. Smith, determined not to be foiled by his opponents, who he knew had been more than nsually rigorous, in his case, in en- forcing the letter of their rules, immedi- ately withdrew from the court-house. In less than half an hour he was on his way, on horseback, to Salem, where he procured the necessary certificate, and, by riding hard all night, returned to Am- herst before the assembling of the bar on the next day, having the evidence in his pocket~ of his consecutive studies. He now applied for another meeting of the bar, but his request was haughtily refused. Conscious that he had now complied with the letter of the rules, and determined not to submit to what he looked upon to be a gross wrong, Mr. Smith promptly appeared before the court, and stating ,to their honors in re- spectful tones the treatment he had re- ceived froth the bar, craved the ir~terpo- silion of the court. The judges at once, arid unanimously, ordered his name, to be enrolled as an attorney. This was a triumph to the young aspirant, and the story getting abroad, made him many friends among the people. The rage of the old lawyers was without bounds, and they scarcely refrained from insult- ing the court, in their desire to humble the young lawyer from Peterhorough. But a speedy triumph awaited him. He xvent fresh and vigorous into the midst of his profession; the very next term gave him a full docket; he rose at once to the head of the profession in his native county ; and the very men who had op- posed his admission to the bar, were com- pelled to employ him to argue their causes. Mr. Smith, from 1788 to 1790, repre- sented his native town in the General Assembly of the State, and performed a valuable service upon a committee for revising the laws of the State. In 1792, he was an active member of the tion which revised and perfected stitution of New I-Iampshire, wI to this day remained without cha during the wild career of ra which threatened, for a time, to all the cherished interests of th the peopleto their praise be still adhered with fondness, as tV anchor of their safety, to the g Constitution of 1792. That tV conservative principles of that e charter should have been presem impaired, during the disorganiz corrupt state administrations wb lowed the advent of Jacksonism is indeed a marvel, and we regar pregnant sign that the people Hampshire, in a strong and step jority, will ere long be found rant- their natural brethren, the Whig indomitable North. Mr. Smiths political career corn under the first administration of ington. He was elected to the fi~ gress in 1790, and was a membe second, third an(l fourth Congres was a useful representative, ob: and faithful to his constituents country. XVhen the two great parties which originated on the of the federal constitution, bega some a bodily form in Congrc- Smith was found with those w ported the Constitution, or the Fed as they were called, in oppositic Anti-Federalists, or Democracy, title the latter party assumed a opening of the great drama of the Revolution. He was the perso intimate friend of Fisher Ames, Calcot, Gore, Harper, and othc kindred views and association placed him on the most pleasing with Jay, Hamilton, Marshall, X and others of the great men of h He was honored with the resp confidence of Washington and and continued to advocate, thron the principles which he had he pounded from the lips of the F his country. Towards the close of the yea Mr. Smith was chosen, almost opposition, for the fourth term gress; but in July, 1797, having r from President Adams the appo of U. S. Attorney for the District Hampshire, he resigned his seat gress, and settled at Exeter. Proft business potired in upon him, and 60 Chief-Justice Smith. honors followed him. Tn 1800, he was appointed Judge of Probate for the county of Rockingham. On the reorganization of the United States Courts, at the close of Mr. Adams administration, Mr. Smith received the appointment of Judge of the Circuit Court of the United States. He entered with zeal upon his new duties, and was fast acquiring a high reputation as a jurist, when a new organization of the courts, after the accession of Mr. Jefferson, made for the express purpose, among others, of getting rid of what were termed the midnight judges, left him out of office. He returned again to his practice at the bar. Scarcely had Judge Smith closed his business as Circuit Judge, and re-opened his office at Exeter, before he was ten- dered the appointment of Chief-Justice of New Hampshire. The salary at that period, attached to this high office, was eight hundred dollars only, not a fourth part of the income which a lawyer of his standing could then c~mmand at the bar. He therefore, after mature deliberation, decided to decline the appointment, unless he could be assured that the Legislature would increase the salary. Th4t body was soon to be in session, and the Gover- nor held the commission in abeyance, until their pleasure could be known. It is worthy of note, as showing the esti- mate at that time placed upon the charac- ter and attainments of Judge Smith, that the Legislature, though the majority was opposed to him in their political opinions, raised the salary immediately to $1,000, and soon afterwards to $1,500 per an- nuin. He entered upon his duties in September, 18(12, and remained Chief- Justice until chosen to the Chief Magis. tracy, in 1809. Party spirit in New Hampshire ran high, from this period until the close of the war in 1812. The high character of Chief-Justice Smith could not shield him from toe fiery ordeal, when he came before the people as a candidate for office, and in the following year, the republican party succeeding under the ticket headed by JOH~ LANGDON, Governor Smith again returned to the practice of his profession. His loss from the bench, where he was popular, was everywhere felt, and the weakness of the court which succeeded, was openly complained of by the people. In 1813, the federal party was again thrown into power in the State, and acting upon what they supposed to be the wishes of the people, adopted one of those radical and violent cha often prostrate a political laws which established the Court of Judicature were rc an act passed creating the dicial Court of New Hamps operation of this proceedir abolish the offices of the exi~ and give to the dominant p pointment of a new bench of making up the new bench, A1 more, who had been chief-jr old court, was retained as ass in the new, and Judge Smi resigned his seat on the ben- to accept the office of gov again appointed Chief-Just State. The remaining sea bench of the new court w; Caleb Ellis, an eminent lawy county of Cheshire. This measure was assailed vigor by the republican orat press; inflammatory pamphle bills were scattered broadca: State, and the popular clni general; not that a changr madefor everybody admii cessity of a changebut at effecting it. The Constituti. plates two modes only in w maybe removed: impeachmen or removal by address, for in The latter of these alternat havebeen adopted; and thee ing the Constitution would been raised. The new syste~ after some show of violence of its opponents, finally, firmness of Chief-Justice ~ into successful operation, ar tinued until the republican was regained in 1816. In th system of 1813 was abolisi- old Superior Court, with modifications re-established. of note, however, that the c objections, so freely urged in wholly forgotten by the vict of 1816; and by refusing to r- of the old judges with the 01 republicans in effect justified t.! by the Federalists in 1813! sure but that the radical prec- act of 1813, has been more followed by the radical de New Hampshire since 1816. were staunch federalists frc 1828, have since had paramou in the so-called democratic p Stateand there is no class 6 e. 1847.] Chief-Justice Smith. make so thorough, unscrupulous and the battle of Bennington; aft~ uncompromising radicals as your rene- Representative in~ Congress by 1 gades from old federalism, of the People of New Hampshi~ Judge Smith returned again to the bar, able and efficient supporter of the and soon found himself engaged in a very of Washington; a District Attorr extensive and lucrative practice. He fol- United States, and Judge of th- Court, by the appointment of W~ lowed his profession until 1820, when successor; in years yet more mat he retired with an ample though not ernor of New Hampshire, and large fortune. He spent the remainder Chief-Justice ;He was, at eves of his life in a quiet and unostentatious of his life, well-deserving of his retirement, preserving to the last his by his courage, his fidelity, and hi. faculties unimpaired, and those high ness to the public service; eqi social qualities which contributed to his few in original power, practical own enjoyment, and the happiness of all and judicial learning and acuter around him. in conversation Judo-e passed in the love of honor, ji~ Smith had few equals. To the young truth by none. He was born and old, to the belles-lettres scholar and borough, November 29th, 1759, in Exeter from 1797 till a few m the man of science, and, above all, to his fore his death, at Dover, Septerr numerous female friends, he never failed 1842; always most loved in thc~ to render himself agreeable. Few were of domestic affection where he so well acquainted with the private his- known; and always a Christian, tory and correspondence of distinguished his convictions and by the habits men; and to have heard him converse protracted, in extraordinary chr upon the characters of those who lived and energy, to above fourscore in the most important eras of English and years.~~ French history, one could hardly realize that he Was not listening to a fellow- The following estimate of the actor with the very persons described. ter of Chief.Justice Smith,* maki Nor was he indifferent to the character allowance for the partiality 01 of the great men of our own time. On friendship, would suffice to esta the contrary, he scrutinized their acts, reputation as a jurist, were there and acknowledged their merits, and dis- memorials left of his career in W cnssed the hearing of their principles State. with interest, fairness and good sense. Indeed, it was a remarkable trait in his Judge Smiths natural powers were of a high order. With an a~ character that he kept close up with the excitable temperament, he acquire spirit of the age. He never afli3cted to ledge ea~ily and rapidly. After consider the times in which he took an menced the practice of law, he al active part, as exclusively marked by dulged himself freely in miscr patriotism or intellect; nor did he think reading and studies; and his att every departure from the track to which in literature and general knowl& he was used an improvident innova- highly respectable. But the chiet tion. But he read and obe,erved, with an his life was devoted to the study of honest intention to inform himself of the This he studied systematically as a character of all improvements; and in As a counsellor and advocate, he this respect he wisely himself to the first grade of eminence at identified Although successful at the bar, he with the present instead of pining regret- eminently qualified for the office a fully over the past. of a judge. With an ample stock Judge Smith died at Dover, New- ing, in all the yarious branches Ilampshire,on the 21st September, 1842, partments of the law, well.dige.. at the age of eighty-two years. The methodized, so as to be always following inscription, prepared by his command, he united quickness of friends; DANIEL WEBSTER and GEoRGE tion, sagacity and soundness of jo. TIcKNoR, graces the plain niarble which Disciplined by a long course of I denotes his resting-place: study, be was able to bear with the most tedious and protracted it Here rest the remains of JEREMIAH tions and discussions, to which a SMITH: In early youth a volunteer in the so constantly subjected. The mo~ cause of the Revolution, and wounded at guished traits of his character wer * Drawn up by one of the greatest mea of the profession of the law in New I JEREMIAH MAsON. VOL. VINO. 1. 4 52 Gkief-fu8lice Smith. tiality~and inflexible firmness in the per- formance of all his judicial duties. As Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of New Hampshire, he found a sufficiently ample field for the exercjse of all his ta- lents. Before the Revolution, little had been done in the Colony of New Hamp- shire to systematize the practice of law; and, for many years after the Revolution, lawyers were seldom selected to fill the bench of even the highest courts. The consequence was, that the practice and proceedings of the courts were crude and inartificial, and the final determination of causes depended more on the discretion and arbitrary opinions of the judges and jurors, than on any established rules and principles of law. This, of course, ren- dered legal decisions vague and uncertain the most intolerable evil of a bad admin- istration of justice, and but slightly allevi- ated by the highest purity of intention in the judges. To remedy this evil, Judge Smith labored with diligence and perse- verance, by establishing and enforcing. a more orderly practice, and by strenuous endeavors to conform all judicial decisions to known rules and principles of law. His erudition and high standing with the pro- fession, as well as with the public at large, enabled him to effect much in this respect, and to his labors the State is greatly if not chiefly indebted for the present more orderly proceedings and better administra- tion of justice. With him, says the present able Chief Justice of New Hampshire,* there arose a new order of things. Those mem- bers of the bar who were diligent and attentive to their business were corn- mended and encouraged, and those who were negligent were lectured and repri- manded. There was, of course, greater preparation on the part of the bar, and greater investigation and deliberation on the part of the bench. Mr. WEBSTER has been heard to say, that, having practised in many courts, beginning with that of George Jackman,t and going up to the court of John Mar- shall, at Washington, he had never found a judge before whom it was more plea- ~ant and satisfactory to transact business than before Chief-Justice Smith; that he had known no judge more quick in his perceptions, more ready with all ordi- nary learning, or possessing more power to make a plain and perspicuous state- ment of a complicated case to a jury. He added, that, with C Smith, industry in preparat: part of counsel, research mt of law, and a frank and ma ment of the whole case, pla its true merits, without disg cealment, would go as far fo tenance of truth and justiee judge he had ever known. A brief notice of the famil Smith is all we have space I ing some reflections upon th. political parties in New which we had prepared, f number of the Review. Judge Smith was twice m~ first wife was Eliza Ross, Alexander Ross, Esq., of B Maryland, to whom he ~x March 8th, 1797. She died 1827. his second xvife, to was married Sept. 20th, 183 zabeth, daughter of the Hc Hale, of Dover, N. H. The his first marriage preceded grave; and one son, born tc old age, survives to inherit h property. Judge Smith was the lasts thers, who all died in the sa within a few months of each first was the Hon. Samuel Peterborough, N. H., at I seventy-five; the second Smith, Esq., of Cavendish eighty-six; and the third Smith, Esq., of Peterbor seventy-nine. They were ably shrewd, clear-headed, st men, and respected in privat- stations. Samuel Smith xv; sentative in Congress in 181 one of the pioneers of m~ industry in ~ew hlampshir most of those who first corn business in New England, Si tune in the enterprise. Du of the latter years of his life, attention to historical rese garding newspapers as com most minute and reliable hi. times that can he preserved, tiently for years in accum perfecting files of those he cc most valuable. In 1836, i the writer that he had for eighty different American $ JOEL PARKER, LL.D. i ~I1EORGE JACKMAN was a Justice of the Peace for Mr. Wznsmas native co Hampshire, who held a commission from the time of George the tiecond. 1847.] .Ecehibition of the National Academy of Design. which were all systematically arranged, sisted of more than seven h~ and were as perfect as they could be fifty volumes, and we have be made. He had nearly completed files of that the number was consix~ almost every newspaper in New Hamp- creased prior to his decease shire, and also files of Boston, New York, treasure to be laid hold of b Philadelphia and Washington newspa- of our Historical Societies! pers. His collection at that time con- TWENTY-SECOND EXHIBiTION OF THE NATIONAL ACADE DESIGN. 1847. TH1~ founders of the National Academy attitude easy, but not slovenly discovered as much discretion as liberal- the artist a feeling of that ar. ity, in permitting its annual exhibition to esty worshipped by the poet be made an advertisement for portrait- for by the painters, and here, painters; for they not only judged that other picture of his,* successful portraits ought to be works of art, but by Mr. Peele. This artist ce~ that the walls of the exhibition-room grace and feeling in an emine ought to be covered with painted can- nor is his design deficient; it i. vases. Only one objection, and that in of good coloring, and of clear the trivial matter of a name, appears in drawing, which prevents him their arrangements. They should be popularity. His figures are nc called, not the National Academy of De- tialhe does not seem to draw sLgn, but the New York Association of a feeling of their internal ana. Portrait-Painters. The air of the Art rather maps them down. A Union is bucolic and rustic, that of the color, nothing could have less Academy domestic and refined. One is very raw, and though corrc represents the nursery, the stable, and the very little tone. Greuse, a bar-room; the other as faithfully depicts painter of the last century, and the parlor and the concert. In the Art celled in the same field with th Union truthful pictures of the grossest man, would consider this beaut and simplest forms of life attract us; in of Mr. Peeles asbut just begun; the other we are equally delighted with repaint the whole twice over, ii the airs of artificial society; both attain believe Merim6,t in order to pr their true endsthey instruct while they greatest mellowness and depth amuse. final effect would be given o As the appearance of this notice is very coats, each being thinly laid nearly at the time of closing the exhibi- paint in this manner requires tion, we may be permitted, without in- what can be more delightful justice to the great number of meritori- result? ous gentlemen whose works are in the Passing into another room, exhibition, to mentiononly a few of the opposite a picture by Mr. Hu more remarkable pictures, with a view to entitled Folly and Devotion. some free remarks on the topic of art in erable figure appears reading general, for which they give us an oppor- Sacred Book; Folly, a buxom tunity. about her as if expecting ad Entering carelessly, and without a Devotion, fixed by the time and guide, we cast our eyes over a number of sion, listens with downcast pieces, and, distracted among a crowd of in a modest attitude. Mr. Ho excellences, fix the eyes at hazard on has placed himself in the first No., a picture entitled Children in the choice of subject; a particular Chuntry, by Peele. The face of the attended to by modern artists, young girl has an expression of the most cept those of Germany. A pict touching sweetness and simplicity. Her ing with human character in tb. * The Angels Whisper. f Merime on Oil-Painting.

Twenty-Second Exhibition of the National Academy of Design. 1847 53-55

1847.] .Ecehibition of the National Academy of Design. which were all systematically arranged, sisted of more than seven h~ and were as perfect as they could be fifty volumes, and we have be made. He had nearly completed files of that the number was consix~ almost every newspaper in New Hamp- creased prior to his decease shire, and also files of Boston, New York, treasure to be laid hold of b Philadelphia and Washington newspa- of our Historical Societies! pers. His collection at that time con- TWENTY-SECOND EXHIBiTION OF THE NATIONAL ACADE DESIGN. 1847. TH1~ founders of the National Academy attitude easy, but not slovenly discovered as much discretion as liberal- the artist a feeling of that ar. ity, in permitting its annual exhibition to esty worshipped by the poet be made an advertisement for portrait- for by the painters, and here, painters; for they not only judged that other picture of his,* successful portraits ought to be works of art, but by Mr. Peele. This artist ce~ that the walls of the exhibition-room grace and feeling in an emine ought to be covered with painted can- nor is his design deficient; it i. vases. Only one objection, and that in of good coloring, and of clear the trivial matter of a name, appears in drawing, which prevents him their arrangements. They should be popularity. His figures are nc called, not the National Academy of De- tialhe does not seem to draw sLgn, but the New York Association of a feeling of their internal ana. Portrait-Painters. The air of the Art rather maps them down. A Union is bucolic and rustic, that of the color, nothing could have less Academy domestic and refined. One is very raw, and though corrc represents the nursery, the stable, and the very little tone. Greuse, a bar-room; the other as faithfully depicts painter of the last century, and the parlor and the concert. In the Art celled in the same field with th Union truthful pictures of the grossest man, would consider this beaut and simplest forms of life attract us; in of Mr. Peeles asbut just begun; the other we are equally delighted with repaint the whole twice over, ii the airs of artificial society; both attain believe Merim6,t in order to pr their true endsthey instruct while they greatest mellowness and depth amuse. final effect would be given o As the appearance of this notice is very coats, each being thinly laid nearly at the time of closing the exhibi- paint in this manner requires tion, we may be permitted, without in- what can be more delightful justice to the great number of meritori- result? ous gentlemen whose works are in the Passing into another room, exhibition, to mentiononly a few of the opposite a picture by Mr. Hu more remarkable pictures, with a view to entitled Folly and Devotion. some free remarks on the topic of art in erable figure appears reading general, for which they give us an oppor- Sacred Book; Folly, a buxom tunity. about her as if expecting ad Entering carelessly, and without a Devotion, fixed by the time and guide, we cast our eyes over a number of sion, listens with downcast pieces, and, distracted among a crowd of in a modest attitude. Mr. Ho excellences, fix the eyes at hazard on has placed himself in the first No., a picture entitled Children in the choice of subject; a particular Chuntry, by Peele. The face of the attended to by modern artists, young girl has an expression of the most cept those of Germany. A pict touching sweetness and simplicity. Her ing with human character in tb. * The Angels Whisper. f Merime on Oil-Painting. 54 Exhibition of the National Academy of Design. asin the work before us, requires a degree of artand knowledge impossible to be con- ceived by any who have not attempted it. The coloring of Mr. Huntingdons picture, though often careless and unfinished, is agreeable and modest; by comparison it appears extremely good. He discovers a skillful use of glazings, and preserves a mellow tone. Mr. Leutzes picture of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, attracted a great deal of attention. Like his other works, it is rather composed than designeda his- torical compilation on canvas; a remark not intended to detract from its peculiar excellences, but rather to distinguish it from such works as owe their force wholly to some one idea or passion; in- stance the Crucifixion of Raphael, or the Assumption of Titianpictures in which the motive is single, and everything sub- ordinate to a principal feature. Histor- ical compilations, like those of Trumbull and Leutze, depend upon an inferior kind of interest, and lean more upon the oh. server. Mr. Leutze is here a miniature painter who designs scenes from history. Among a number of excellent portraits by Elliot, we noticed some in which the imitation of natural hair was wonderfully successful, perhaps the most so possible; but the faces of this painter are not al- ways clean. The complexion, for ex- ample, of the spirited portrait of Inman, is very smutty; the shadows have a look of being made with charcoal. Mr. Page has two pieces in this exhi- bition, one a portrait, the other a design in the Italian taste. Both. pictures dis- cover all the excellences and defects of his peculiar method of coloring. They have a low tone, and are very yellow, apparently from the absorption of the thin coats of white with which he fin- ishes his pictures. Mr. Pages method is well known, as he makes no scruple of communicating it. He begins by lay- ing ona ground of red shadowed with black or blue black; a method in use by many European artists, both ancient and modern. He then produces all the effects of flesh that can be attained, with pure yellow laid over the red ground, avoid- ing, or only thinly coating the shadows. This yellow forms with the red a very fine orange, which is the true orange of file flesh. The finish with thin coats of white, completes the flesh tint; but, unless managed with great delicacy, leaves it hard, and fading, tho wise possessing all the qualif flesh. These defects may by after glazings and rej processes. The method is slowest possible, from the a the outer coatings. A w journal has asserted that th not be absorbed, being up ground. * X/~,Te are compell from that opinion, by the p time and observation. The ingu will darken over the white over the yellow, the picture lowering itself to a c as is most evident in Mr. Pr ful picture of the mother a exquisite work, and disco tainly, a genius which placee among the first of living a~ which the appearance of striking, the lights havin fallen as to destroy the and impair the balance tore. The portrait, by the saim covers the same excellences The tone of the flesh is ve~ much yellower than in a The shadows are blood-red, by glazing a mixture of ~ and vermillion, with lake; dows in the human face nev color, there being always a paler cuticle tempering their Yet, with all their defects of these pictures is surprisi observed, during many visit attracted a constant and se tion from the visitors. as it was impossible to n tail, all the good pictures, m good portraits of the exhibiti spoken of the few rnentionc ther to call attention to hi~ ments of painting, and th. covered by the more nspir artists. By the pictures of Page, who learned their art try, by the proper study of tural principlesby those who studied in italy, and spiration from the great are lead to believe, that it sojourn in Italy, nor a patriot home, that will teach the pa But that in either situation tI knows his own ends, and is enduring and towering am Hints to Art-Union Critics, Am. Rev,, December, 1846. 1847.1 Ode: fuly Fourth, 1847. inevitably succeed, if he throws himself upon the study and imitation of natural effects: not slightly or in the general, hut with ~i minute and faithful, if neces- sary with a stiff and officious, attention to the nicer secrets of color and expres- sion. The nature of colors, a science vague- ly understood even by the most scientific.. the efli~cts of thin coats, which annihilate simple tints, and re-produce compounds of the most remarkable qualitiesthe effect of mixtures, inducing chemical changes, deterioration of lustre, opacity, and a vulgar dullness in some, and the re- verse effects in othersthe power of superficial blues, giving, ill-employed, dirty obscurity, Well-employed an aerial lightness and puritythe use and choice of varnishes, a most important field of inquiry, for whose limits the work of Merim~ may be advantageously consult- edof the change and sinking of co- lors by time, and the invention of meth- ods to prevent itof the different ef- fects of shadows, as of pure black, browns and reds applied externally, or beneath the surfacelet these topics of the art be investigated and determined, and a school of scientific and powerful colorists established among the ingenious and high-minded artists of America, nothing remains but the occasion, the subject, and the demand, for the produc- tion of great and permanent.works, that shall stand without loss by the side of the best of European art. Between the sciences and arts, there is this difference, that the first can be coin- municated to a dull intellect, and are trans- missible in every particular by words; while in art there is a something not corn- municable, and depending on I and capacity of the learner. I in utility of foreign travel for a have not learned so much as ments of painting or statuary. painter, who discovers that wil ture of yellow and vermillio few touches of blue, he can st~ pretty, dashing face upon the taken up by his friends and Italy. Arriving there he is at his o~wn presumption, and iu awe falls to copying the great He succeeds only in prodm imitations of them, defective in and color. Here is a Raphr an Angelo, but what a Rapha an Angelo! These unfortunatc ritorious persons demand L They are. like boys, who atte~. speak can only declaim; thei have swallowed them up. A sin of originality, on the other ha. sions admiration and respect, anc ly lifts the artist into a sphere c 1 and credit. Suppose him a a Murillo, a Constable, a Titia ing with assiduity from the life,-~ duces for several years plain Copies of the object, but exa worthy, and of well-selected His works are not tainted with talism. He begins, in a manly fa. the lowest round of the lad slowly and deliberately ascends is the history of the great artists, great originals in most spherc what is an original, but a man produces nature truthfully, in fo show him to be in her confidenc. know her beauties from her defe ODE FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY, 1847. r. Forth from the willows, where the wind Hath sighed its saddest note to thee, Where breathings of a mournful mind Have made thy chords in unison to be, Come, 0 my harp! and wake thy cheerful strings, Make of thy gladdest song a joyous birth. Tis thine to listen while the spirit sings, And echo forth the notes to all the earth.

Ode for the Fourth of July, 1847 55-59

1847.1 Ode: fuly Fourth, 1847. inevitably succeed, if he throws himself upon the study and imitation of natural effects: not slightly or in the general, hut with ~i minute and faithful, if neces- sary with a stiff and officious, attention to the nicer secrets of color and expres- sion. The nature of colors, a science vague- ly understood even by the most scientific.. the efli~cts of thin coats, which annihilate simple tints, and re-produce compounds of the most remarkable qualitiesthe effect of mixtures, inducing chemical changes, deterioration of lustre, opacity, and a vulgar dullness in some, and the re- verse effects in othersthe power of superficial blues, giving, ill-employed, dirty obscurity, Well-employed an aerial lightness and puritythe use and choice of varnishes, a most important field of inquiry, for whose limits the work of Merim~ may be advantageously consult- edof the change and sinking of co- lors by time, and the invention of meth- ods to prevent itof the different ef- fects of shadows, as of pure black, browns and reds applied externally, or beneath the surfacelet these topics of the art be investigated and determined, and a school of scientific and powerful colorists established among the ingenious and high-minded artists of America, nothing remains but the occasion, the subject, and the demand, for the produc- tion of great and permanent.works, that shall stand without loss by the side of the best of European art. Between the sciences and arts, there is this difference, that the first can be coin- municated to a dull intellect, and are trans- missible in every particular by words; while in art there is a something not corn- municable, and depending on I and capacity of the learner. I in utility of foreign travel for a have not learned so much as ments of painting or statuary. painter, who discovers that wil ture of yellow and vermillio few touches of blue, he can st~ pretty, dashing face upon the taken up by his friends and Italy. Arriving there he is at his o~wn presumption, and iu awe falls to copying the great He succeeds only in prodm imitations of them, defective in and color. Here is a Raphr an Angelo, but what a Rapha an Angelo! These unfortunatc ritorious persons demand L They are. like boys, who atte~. speak can only declaim; thei have swallowed them up. A sin of originality, on the other ha. sions admiration and respect, anc ly lifts the artist into a sphere c 1 and credit. Suppose him a a Murillo, a Constable, a Titia ing with assiduity from the life,-~ duces for several years plain Copies of the object, but exa worthy, and of well-selected His works are not tainted with talism. He begins, in a manly fa. the lowest round of the lad slowly and deliberately ascends is the history of the great artists, great originals in most spherc what is an original, but a man produces nature truthfully, in fo show him to be in her confidenc. know her beauties from her defe ODE FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY, 1847. r. Forth from the willows, where the wind Hath sighed its saddest note to thee, Where breathings of a mournful mind Have made thy chords in unison to be, Come, 0 my harp! and wake thy cheerful strings, Make of thy gladdest song a joyous birth. Tis thine to listen while the spirit sings, And echo forth the notes to all the earth. 56 Ode: July Fourth, 1847. Tis thine the music of the soul to hear, The heaven-sent music in the poets heart, And by the wondrous magic of thine art To make the strain be heard by every human ear. Come from the willows, harp !a new, new song Waits on the wings of poesy to fly A new, new song, both loud and long, Its theme, among the highest, high! Breathe out the notes the sighing wind bath taught, No longer with the waving willows mourn; For lo! a joy to all the land is brought, Th expected beams the waiting hills adorn. Rejoice, rejoice !make every heart rejoice! The sun has given the glittering hills a voice. From east to west the glory flies away, Till all the land is glowing in the day. II. The sun is glancing oer a nations jubilee. The stars have set upon another year~ The day, the holy day again is here The day on which my country first was free, The day on which a nation it began to be; And all is bright and happy yet. The story of the glorious past A million hearts are brooding oer; The tale is told from first to last The tale our fathers told before, The story of the day we never can forget! And here and there a solemn prayer Is mounting through the blessed air; And all that love The land are gay, Come forth in joy on this their countrys natal day! Iii. The sun is mingling too his joy with ours, And sending smiles upon the smiling earth. Beneath his looks the snowy clouds have birth. The mists are mounting to the sky To join the glorious host above Upon the breast of heaven to lie And watch us with their face of love To look upon us in these joyful hours. The gaudy fields are all in rapture resting, The flowers are sparkling in a thousand vales, The leaves are fluttering oer the hills and dales, Millions of singing things the air are breasting: All living things breathe freer in their play To welcome into blessthe holy day; Shame to the heart that would not then be gay! xv. My country! I would love thee, though A tyrant held thee in his arms, Though anarchy rode fiercely through, Clad with his worst alarms. I needs must love thee, mother! whose warm breast Nourished my infant life and gave my boyhood rest, 1847.] Ode: July Fourth, 1S47. Een though in after years she raise the rod And drive me from th embrace. A debt, as much a debt as that to God, Which nothing can efface And though a warmer welcome may be found Upon a stranger ground, Still must the early love its vigils keep, Fur in the hearts serene and changeless deep. But since thy early slumbers Were fed with peaceful numbers, When once the travail of thy birth was oer; And freedom and her sister spirits at that time Enchanted thy young ear with many a sweet-toned chime, And gave a dream more rich than land eer dreamed before; And since thy fresh, fair face Hath yet so sweet a grace; As yet untouched by weakening age, Unscarred by cruelty and rage; And since the dream hath found its counterpart In thy rich blooming youth, And they who love thee in their heart Seem bowing at the throne of truth Who could not more than love thee, when he feels Thy kindness, which long use almost conceals. V. Our fathers, who had felt What twas not to be free, Knew how to value their rich boon; But we, who never knelt To aught but liberty, And never with unwilling hands Perform the duty she commands, Forget to prize her, all too soon. Yet though our patriotic fire To meaner things will oft give place, And much of that pure love retire Which fired the fathers of our race, It is but resting in our inner heart, Not all expiring in the air- And still kept warm within that holy part Slumbers like unbreathed music, there. It shall awake! Wheneer occasion call, Quick shall it break Its evanescent thrall, And burst full-winged forth from its chrysalis, Leaving its darkened home for a new state of bliss Shake but its crimson folds, The flag of love will yet unfurl, And in our hearts will proudly curl ; Not all extinct in IEtnas fire, Though shoot not always forth its mighty flames in ire. vi. o young and blessed land! thy early story Is ever for thy sons a spot of glory A thing to fix their eyes upon for ever; The light they live by burneth there, Too bright for any m.teors glare Their love from that dear spot to sever. 58 Ode: .July Four/It, 1847. While there are those that on their fathers knees Shall prattle of thy early days, Still shall the flag of freedom court the breeze Still may we proudly praise! VII. Thy rugged sons, the tillers of thy soil7 Enjoy thy hounties with a glad content; And in their well-rewarded toil, Neer yearn for yonder sicklied continent. Oh, where so few who never know a sigh! This be our homethe universal cry. Forever hound to such an heritage, A love like theirs must mock the ill presage Of those who fancy ruin is at hand To mar the bliss that fills our native land! VIII. And oh! what wondrous hopes hnth every one; Such common hope will surely hind us fast. Stronger is hope when life is just begun Despair neer springs from out so brief a past. And strength and wisdom, virtue, too, With vigorous growth, go on in might7 Our rosy dawn is scarcely through: IFar distant is the dismal night. No nation eer by poets sung So full of promise, when so young! And those of meditative ken Are sanguine as the rudest, when They pierce in hope thy coming years And tell, with voice bereft of fears, Our grounds of glorious confidence. And is this universal sense, This common instinct,, but a lie? Ye prophets oer the olden sea, Your croaking strains x~e may defy! That all we hope our land shall he, Ye more than half suspect it will, When with such rare and constant skill Ye labor, in attempt to prove The folly of our hopeful love My harp, we must not stay To fight with fancies on a day Like this, when every vaporous fear Before the warmth of love must disappear! For neath the sky of hope, to-day, Contagious joys, like breezes, play. Ix. Rejoice, 0 blessed land! in this thy day. O let thy ocean-guarded shores rejoice! And let thy plenty-swelling plains have too a voice, That to the heart of nature melt away Deep in the prairie-dappled, forest-crownd nest, Nor let the hills have rest! And thy sky-dwelling peaks, where freshest snow, Defying time, is fresh for endless years; And where, uplifted for the stains below, A spotless sacrifice appears. The Life and Opinions of Philip Yorick, Esq. 1847.1 Let them remember~ Ai~d praye-rriirlioly silence raise. o hlessed land! if bid tj#-human heart XVere fresh as thy~O\vn verdant face; Not covered oer with centuries of art, But wild and strong, in natures grace Still with the best of joy that man can give, To-day, 0 let our puans live! x. SingO, sing! the air is warm, Heated with the breath of love; For a million wishes swarm, To the mother now to prove, All are grateful for her care, All are ready with a prayer Now to load the willing air. Sing, for joy hath built her nest In every heart, on every tree, Nature is in blissful rest, Man is ripe for jollity. The gale is waiting on the shore To hear the sound the ocean oer; To all the listening lands to tell That we love our own so well. Then raise a swelling song through all the land, For lo !the blessed band, The ones of old who made us free, Are with usin our jubilee Are waiting round us now to hear The music that their children make; The holy ones are hovering near, Then let our songs the stillness break! But sleep, my harp! for now tis noon, Beneath the living sun all things have rest; And mirth must reach its zenith soon, And sleep, in silence l& st, on joys own breast. THE LIFE AND OPINION S OF PHILIP YORICK WItITT~N BY IIflWSELF. CHAPTER XXIV. STORY OF xGERIA. (Continued.) WHRN Mr. Clementine came to this den, where the temperate ray point in his narrative, he rose, and oh- sun gave the stranger an op1 serving that the night was growing without heat or fatigue, of rela; chilly, proposed that we should return to had befallen him in his search the tavern; and as the evening was far lost lady of his heart; when he advanced when we arrived there, he follows: bade us good night, promising to put a fair conclusion to his story in the morn- Fair are thy vine-clad hills, 0 ing. France! Accordingly, next day, we took our Bright Honors birth-place, wL seats under a pleasant arbor in the gar- trious ray

Philip Yorick Yorick, Philip The Life and Opinions of Philip Yorick, Esq. 59-68

The Life and Opinions of Philip Yorick, Esq. 1847.1 Let them remember~ Ai~d praye-rriirlioly silence raise. o hlessed land! if bid tj#-human heart XVere fresh as thy~O\vn verdant face; Not covered oer with centuries of art, But wild and strong, in natures grace Still with the best of joy that man can give, To-day, 0 let our puans live! x. SingO, sing! the air is warm, Heated with the breath of love; For a million wishes swarm, To the mother now to prove, All are grateful for her care, All are ready with a prayer Now to load the willing air. Sing, for joy hath built her nest In every heart, on every tree, Nature is in blissful rest, Man is ripe for jollity. The gale is waiting on the shore To hear the sound the ocean oer; To all the listening lands to tell That we love our own so well. Then raise a swelling song through all the land, For lo !the blessed band, The ones of old who made us free, Are with usin our jubilee Are waiting round us now to hear The music that their children make; The holy ones are hovering near, Then let our songs the stillness break! But sleep, my harp! for now tis noon, Beneath the living sun all things have rest; And mirth must reach its zenith soon, And sleep, in silence l& st, on joys own breast. THE LIFE AND OPINION S OF PHILIP YORICK WItITT~N BY IIflWSELF. CHAPTER XXIV. STORY OF xGERIA. (Continued.) WHRN Mr. Clementine came to this den, where the temperate ray point in his narrative, he rose, and oh- sun gave the stranger an op1 serving that the night was growing without heat or fatigue, of rela; chilly, proposed that we should return to had befallen him in his search the tavern; and as the evening was far lost lady of his heart; when he advanced when we arrived there, he follows: bade us good night, promising to put a fair conclusion to his story in the morn- Fair are thy vine-clad hills, 0 ing. France! Accordingly, next day, we took our Bright Honors birth-place, wL seats under a pleasant arbor in the gar- trious ray 60 The Life and Opinions Illumed the Mid Ag~. anti dnth stilli ad.. vance Our Europes twilight into glorious day. Names, letters, conquests, arms, all these enhance The sunny joys that mid thy vineyards play, Heart of the Old World, and thy children see An inexpressive excellence in thee. Here grow the social passIons, ripening fair, To grace and chivalrous courage; here the mind Bears light and free her load of mortal care, By passion strengthened and hy love refined, All sorrows, nay, even death itself, to dare, In human feeling steeped, with human kind Blindly commingled, that cold skill un- known That fixes reason on a selfish throne. Here Love was first made king, and kept his rule; Here glorious Fiction leagued with him and Truth; Here came the hrilliant and the wise to school ]i)antd, Petrarcha, and that amorous youth, Boccacio, whose sweet fahie doth hefool Our soher phantasyO mirth and ruth, France was your cradleall his slights were yours, Ye dreamy minstrels, and ye shrewd trouveurs. At the instant our improvisator~ was about to breathe the first line of his fourth stanza, we were surprised by a beautiful apparition, which was no less than the figure of the admirable Egeria herself, who with a res& ved and quiet step came into the arbor. We rose to salute her; but our eccentric friend, Frank, seemed to be on a sudden struck dumb with the sight, so perfect and powerful was the impression of her presence. Clementine rose with an impassioned air, and invited the lady to sit with us, to which propo- sal she acceded after an introduction and a few gracious words between her and ourselves. It would be idle for me to attempt a description of this exquisite piece of divine workmanship; for there was nothing excessive or defective in her manner or person. She was neither slen- der nor full-fleshed, but the exact medium; her face was neither oval nor square, nor had it any positive trait, except a brilliant complexion. It was impossible for the eye to rest anywhere upon her figure; from the forehead it eyes ; from the eyes to the thence, in a bewildered mod boson-i. It was equally diffic her gaze and to refuse it, wI in all about her an atmosphe tation and ~ If a face without one regr teristic, hut charged with ti lightful sentiment, can be c face, where disease, if it exis no traces, where sorrow had ened the sense for joy, and ig of nnderstapding; if such a described, then can hers he; the person to attempt it. C your fancy with a figure of height, a well-turned and ye and a head harmoniously si gine a mild and well-mod social, hut not familiar, plea gay. in short, imagine the of your soul, the joy of youtF lation of old age, the angel of flower of earth, the testimorv Steiner put himself quite c in this extravagant descripti said 1, you have spoiled romance heroine by not le single defect. True, said he, I did that My remark seemed to ha~ lead into his brain, for, as man, we sat in a profound hundred and sixty seconds nomical clock of mine, whi. the wooden case in the hall the strokes of the pendulum. You counted the stroke: dulum ? I did, sir. Of what, pray, were yo Of a new mode of mear of the meridian. Preposterous egotist! a beauty make so trifling an that ? That is quite another q It is the disposition of an hausted by powerful and lc emotion to relieve itself on I isfy this disposition, I take poetry and passion in the ma boys go from Home.r t Meanwhile do not interru I beg of you good reader done with this romance - to hang heavy on my hand Where did we leave? trait. Steiner, as I said, 1847.] Of Philip Yorick, 7~Xq deep silence, as if digesting the ideas II had thrown to him. Presently recollect- ing himself with a start, he set off again at a good ambling pace. The amiable Egeria, continued he, addressed herself to my friend. We have heard of each other often, I am assured, said she, and that is a reason why it should be difficult for us to be- come acquainted. Yes, replied Frank, he has sung your praises in my ears, until out of mere weariness, I re- solved within myself to expect nothing. Ah, replied Egeria, that is the way with you, Clement; if there is anything you like, the whole world must hear of it. But [beg, unless you mean to sell me to the highest bidder, you will not so spoil my welcome. That, exclaimed Frank, is impossible! for your worth must always outrun his praises. I perceive, said the lady, blushing, that I have to deal with very dangerous peo- ple. Pray, sir, who is worst of the two, he who praises us to our friends, a~ though he in eant to sell us, or he who lands us to ourselves, as thou~h he wish- ed to buy us Then taking a bracelet from her beau- tiful arm she put it in my hand, and while a faint embarrassment continued to heighten her complexion and add at- traction to her manner Perhaps you can tell me, said she, the name of this stone. I have shown it to several lapi- daries, and they profess not to know it. Praising the beauty and rarity of the stone, which was a yellow tourmaline, I held it to the light and read the name, Beanmanoir, with the motto Juvat pietas engraved under the crest. My friend upon hearing this, immedi- ately arose, pale and trembling, and placed himself upon the opposite~ seat on the left of the lady. Then taking her hand he kissed it fervently, and holding it for- cibly within both of his, prevented her from rising. I beseech you, said he, tell me from whom you had that stone. I had it from my father, she replied, regarding the agitation of the other with astonishment and almost ~ith fear. Then, said he, embracing her in the tenderest manner, and imprinting a kiss upon her forehead, all agrees, and you are my sister. I remember, said she, withdrawing herself from his em- braces, when we fled from the city, my father left my brother, at that time seven years older than myself, in the care of an intimate friend of his, a German gentle- man, of your name, sir, (ad This brother we called Fm fair-haired, and of a melane ament, but I have no recoil features. I will help you,: ing, and looking eagerly ui Do you remember Idyll, am where we lived in summer, Bounce Who killed your squi said she, if you remember 1 Frank, for we agreed to let of it. So saying she e kissed her brother cordiali joy was mutual and equal. When this happy recogni ued Steiner, had thus rest other the divided branches c stock, Clementine indulgc tions after his manner. said he, that we three are p united in our love and fort would be a conteiript of I3ivi to say that chance wrough coincidences. First, it was who inspired me at Colleg longing for Wisdom, that is philosophy; Philosophy bro the solitude where I fo Egeria taught me again to h for she is wisdom embodic ness. Again, you restored from the grave, and like brought my Alcestis to but beforebeing the hrot1~ na, as wit is the brother 01 you had brought me back is, to your sister, and I quited you by restoring wi: that is, your sister to yours. sadness, not wit, if you by the brother; for if there is tween us it goes to your side lancholy humor which you 1 in me, a melancholy born and sorrow, that wears the c with a bad grace, and sighs ery of a jest. But come, let things easily, and waste no our happiness, lest it take I slip away. Now, said he were all seated, Clementine a side of the arbor and the I sister on the other, holding by the hand, let us hear 1 sation. Clementine was silent for contracted his brows, and head, protesting, that if it ble, he would continue in 1 strain, but that the power of scene had weakened his faa 62 The Life and Opinions should think himself happy to get on with indifferent j)rose. You left me, said he, among the vine- yards of Provence, standing over the ruins of the Chateau Clementine. My meditations were interrupted by the ap- proach of night, and with the darkness came a violent wind from the Alps, which blew furiously into the valley, and drove me into the shelter of a low hovel which served the purpose of an inn or hostelry for muleteers. The in- habitants, like the majority of their class, were mean and miserable, a race of down-trodden serfs, ignorant, and most part wild and vicious. The tenants of the hut, which had but two apartments, were, an old man, who sat constantly over a fire of sticks, shaking with age and a~ue, a shaggy-haired vine-dresser, his wife, and two sons. They jabbered continually in a patois which I could with difficulty understand (though French is my familiar tongue), and seemed suspi- cious and fearful. Wishing, if possible, to be on-kindly terms with these people, whom I regarded with a peculiar feeling, as the children of those who were the tenants of my ancestors, I took a stool, and sitting by the old man, who seemed to take no notice of anything that passed, I asked him in a low voice if he remem- bered the name of Clementine. Ah, monsieur ! said he, shaking his head more, which shook of itself, that was my lords name, the Marquis: I am very old, you see, and poor, but my lord tind madame danced at my wedding, and the lord of Bignon was there too, he that was Mirabean ; his son, they say, brought on the Revolution and libertd. Did you see him, said I. Yes, faltered the old man, I saw the Count. He was just of my age, and the Marquis said to Madame Clementine, Madame, my ugly son, I-Ionor~, (meaning the Count,) desires to dance with you; and madame danced ivith Honor6, and I saw him kiss her cheek when he thought no- body looked that way. Ab! he was an angel, monsieur, in the skin of a devil. Those were happy times! My lord Marquis Mirabeau gave as money and his blessing. Then, thought we, there will be no acorns eaten this year, hut good bread and plenty. After these words the old man sunk into a profound silence. I waited awhile to observe whether he would speak again, and meanwhile the vine-dresser and his family, who had come about us, stared at us w ishmuent. When I inquired ft their wonder, which they ext signs and exclamations, they that their father had not spoke than a year. The vine-dresse what I had done to make h I then told them ray name, an father, as they called him, h: tenant of my 0randfathers, bu munication had no other effe excite exclamations and inquii I lay that night on a little h in the corner of the hovel, visit lancholy visions. About tv morning the storm abated. with travel and wakefulness, to win a moments rest from I arose impatiently, and in risi hand pierced by something sh~ the straw. Feeling careful! cause, I touched what seemed clasp of a bracelet, a stone in setting, the pin of which h~ the wound. The brands smoking upon the hearth, and urged them into a flame by n By the dim light of the flame, the jewel, I read the name Be engraverl upon it, with the mr piet as. It was the same whi has upon her wrist, and which her by the old woman of the h mon lake, as the sole memo her father. You m~ y imagine the effect covery. I called up the vi without delay, and showing stone, made every inquiry reg At length, after a tedious exp~ learned that a party of four pe of which answered the des Egeria and her governess, had fuge from a storm in the hov week before my arrival; that lady had fainted through fatigi for a few moments on the lii very spot where I had made. that the two gentlemen who her were extremely attentive, particular turned pale and when he saw her fall into a sxv he was a very handsome man, hair, large eyes, and a very manner-they took him to he that Englishmen very often way; that, finally, they kne further, and could not even way the party had gone. I hurried to the village, every inquiry. A party, ans 1847.] Of Philip Yorick, Esq. the vine-dressers description, were lodg- ed at some distance from the village, at the honse of a farmer, where they ha(l been above a fortnibht. The road thither lay among wild and unfrequented places, windin~ alon0 the sides of rounded emi- nences, whose soil had been carried away into the hollows by rain, leavin~ them barren and almost devoid of vegetation. I had walked by this road, it may have been half an hour or less, for the min- utes apl)eared cruelly lengthened, when on a sudden it made a turn and entered a cultivated farm, divided by walls of stone and hedges, in the English fashion. The road became green and smooth, and had tufts of bushes on either side. At a lit- tle distance before me 1 saw two persons walking, one a man whom I had remem- bered to have seen, but where or when it was impossible to recollect; the other a woman very gorgeously dressed, whose air and voice, for I was near enough to hear their laughter and conversation, re- minded me of the governess. I passed them and turned, but they did not reco~- nize mc ;a profusion of hair and beard, a forei n dress, and a comple. ion dark- ene(l by travel, proved an effectual dis- guise. I carried in my hand an oaken stick which had come with me from Pa- ris, and was almost grown to the arm that held it. A knapsack, which in my agitation I had forgotten to lay aside at the inn, bent my shoulders. A pair of hide shoes, stout corduroys, and a leath- em hunting-coat of Kentucky make, add- ed whatever of uncouthness was neces- sary to perfect disguise. Clementine paused an instant at this point; then drawing a deep breath, he re- sumed, as follows: I would have spoken to the gover- ness, but extreme agitation prevented the utterance of a syllable. A hundred yards farther on, the road terminated at a stile, and beyond was a vineyard with an English cottage in the midst. Such was my agitation, 1 did not at first see the figures of two persons before me, on the right, half concealed by a clump of bushes. My eyes were for an instant darkened as by a veil, my ears rang, and a tremulous fire swept through my limbs; yet why this agitation, thought 1; if it should be she you seek, this faintness and passion will incapacitate you; if it be a stranger, then how ab- surd the anxiety ! Ipassed on, and over- took them; the lady leaned upon the arm of a stranger, who I thought was an Englishman, perhaps a noblc rival ; I will kill him, tho the fury of the tiger for an ins ed my veins and stretched th my arms. Absurd folly! w fer your nature to be debaser picion; besides, you do not ther it he she or not ; for, in not courage to look behind m ed them. [ went on to P1 standing by the wayside, clump of shrubbery, resolv there and observe them as ti They came near. They did manoeuvre, and came on sI versing. The voice of the st pressing and persuasive. heard hTm say, the reason luctance, and do not be dis~ call it unreasonable, until I son. The lady made no re the instant, as she turned her she saw me; our eyes met, whom I sought. Clementmne face in his hands when he ha and for a moment sobbed aud h~ment was the memory of tF Nor was the lady herself though she made the most str forts to conceal her emotion. Egeria, continued Clementir tenderly at her, did not km was I. Spare me, sir, 51 rising with dignity, though a fended. Stay, said her bre ing her forcibly, you mustn Egeria, Clement will not off sure of that. lie is of imno compact, said he, laughing she could not be offended; am are very wise and cool, will thing by his vagaries. There a gentle pressure, he forced hi stay, and Niaster Clement, th tIe ashamed, continued as folk I suffered them to pass, am hack upon the road, xvalked know not how far: at length a my own weakness, 1 return fortune would have it, Egeria herself on the hither side of the others had wandered off; ness and the Englishman seemi deep consultation, and the ob busy with observing the viney At this moment, said Steine slipped away from her brothe tired, noislessly. Clementine not seem to observe it, being by imagination, contimmued in strain 64 The Life md Opinions Coming quietly behind, as she stood leaning against the stile, I pronounced her name. She started, and without a word held out her hand to me,smiled, as she used to smile,but in an instant the paleness of death came over her counte- nance, and she leaned forward and em- braced me. I know not how long we remained in that position, hefore a rude grasp upon my arm compelled me to change it. Placing the lady upon the step of the stile, I turned suddenly ; it was the Eng- lishmnan. He stared in angry astonish- ment. Do you know that lady, said he. 1(10. And pray, sir, who are you ? A gust of jealousy forced me to reply rude- ly, I am the guardian and friend of the lady. Have you anythin~ to ask farther ? Exasperated with the insolence of the reply the Englishman laid his hand upon my collar, and made an effort to throw me off; but in that particular he reckon- ed without his host. 1 knocked him (lown. Here was a pleasant bejoning. Egeria recovered herself, and laying hold upon n~y hands reproached roe bitterly: My friend, sir, said she, the gentle- man does not know you. Oh, you have done wrong. It is Mr. Clen friend and master,my gun said she, going to the Englisi had got upon his feet and was a furious attack. An explan ed, and an apparent reconco governess came up, recogniz troduced me to her companiom remembered my face, and the ~ to move homeward, but no Englishman had whispered what is usual on such occas~ which I very cheerfully asseT thought myself a good fenc swords, which seemed to gi ticular satisfaction, meanwh not choose to interrupt me, o farther quarrel ; and with Eg side, and the governess on 1 walked to, the house, full of ultation. The next morning, having couple of rapiers, I went to th place of meeting, and wal: challenger to appear, bnt he wit in his anger, and I lear turning to the village, tha Anglais and his servant had departure before daybreak. CHAPTER XXV. MR VORICK, AFTER A SUITABLE APOLOGy, RELATES AN ADVENTURE OF Yes, I will beja it ,I will venture upon it. But first let me apolo0ize to you, in some manner, for omitting the con- clusion of the story of the fair Egeria; in truth, though I had never so great a desire I could not conclude it;you would not have me sit down and deliberately in- vent a conclusion of that true and authen- tic recital ? No, I am persuaded of that ; you have too great a regard for my ho- nesty. Herr Steiner left it unfinished that night, and in the rooming, it was the very morning of this cheerful evening, when the air of my garden is rich with perfume, and with the melody of birds, that Egeria, the beni~nant angel of my last nights dreams, set her feet upon the greensward of my shrubbery, and then upon the matting of my cool ball. In the morning early, Steiner, by my own urgent solicitation, went over to the tav- ern where they met, and brought them hither. And now, like Darius, I cry out in reverie, I have Egeria, I have her under my roof; my soul, Oreader,is full of generosity, and I delight in I am fired with the descriptio beauty, goodness, grandeur, to behold them, to touch the tam, and solicit them to acce~ 0 cruel fate that has left one virtue! Why am I cc seek my satisfaction in alien ever scorning myself and Nay, I confess too, that prais accel)table to me, from the g light in the smiles and favoor natures best children, who a with divinity. The fires of burn fiercely toward them gush from my eyes at thou~ and their great speeches. J me nowthe voicesdo you The curtain floats at tL yielding gently to the summel it rises appear glimpses of r leys, the silvery jettings of lit that wind and fall. The oce bearing a bank of pale clouds begins infinitude. The wam l847.J Of ~hW~ Yoriclc, Esq. melancholy thrush near by, in the wood, where it joins the garden, leaning over the pale, are not sweeter than the voice that floats up from the hall and enters my chamber through the half-closed door ; Egeria sines a sweet Tyrolese aif; the voices of the merry mountaineers seem to echo in rich tenor the aria of the maid- ens from hill-side to hill-side the quick notes fly and rebound; it is love that singsmusic is the voice of love, and thus am I thrown back upon myself, (wretched egotist,) for my loves are voice- less But if I cannot sing, at least I can talk Hermes yes, I can talk there is consolation in that. Your true author is a kind of mock birdhe has a faculty, through sympathy, of imitating all passions ; of feeling all passions. I will lay my copy of Bur- tons Anatomy of Melancholy, against your Tytlers 1-tistory, which, to my thinking, is as fearful an odds as ever man laid, that your Shakspeares owed their power to sympathy. They are in love with all beauties, ravished by all rnelodies~ angered, vexed, distracted with other mens affairs; cursed with an overpowerin~ sympathy with all kinds of souls and passions, and reinorses and joys, and reasons, until human nature is a book perused by them pen in hand; they have read, re-read, and got by heart, as it were, under the rod, the whole farce- tragedy of life, without desiring it, striving perpetually to shake it off, and get the din of it out of their ears, and the fire of it out of their heartsuhtil they have mastered it, and got it under foot; and then, if necessary, theycan write. At this moment, while my friends are enjoyin~ themselves below, Steiner, with a box of minerals before him, is turning them over in search of something rare a trumpery collection of mine. Frank is lying stretched upon the grass-plot, with a meerschaum at his mouth; Cleinentine, in his chair, is asleep; Egeria has just finished her song, and now I see her in the garden, which my window overlooks a lily among rosesshe has on a white bridal dress; they are to be mar- ried this evening, in the village church. Or shall it he in my house? I will do what I can to bring that about. See, she has gathered a wild rose and fixed it in her hairHeaven guard my heart! The breeze sports with her golden locks, she looks east, she looks west, she looks up- ward, and toward the earthO foolish heart! What prerogative this beauty hath to sway and tyrannize poxver and sovereignty it is far such persons, that ~o mu and dote upon it, are to be with that I burthen not my by what means doth it pr effect? By si0ht; the eye I soul, and is both active and this business; it wounds and ed; is an e~pecial cause, bc subject and the object; this s being the portal of beauty thro she entereth the soul as thro umphal arch, is the most hom senses. Yet through touch smell, the pressure of the han other avenues, lore steals into through a postern gate, or a su entrance. If love, then, cot an(l beauty at only one of tb beauty is but an accident of must not be confounded wit. causes. Else why, my homel is thy poor mortal image the v diment of all that I desire a Grace is more powerful than is the cestus that makes beauty For is not grace the beauty and motion the principle of fancy the counciltor of love? Yes, I will begin it, I wi upon it,the story of my u affair with Chloris,how it hr ceeded, ended. But allow in instance, to assume the posi third party, and for I say tired of this autobiographical - It was in the summer of hi second year that Master Yoric was conquered by the admirabl a great event in his life ; for she who persuaded him of the dant beauty of the world, the of life, and divine power of h in a course of lectures, hut a gentle insinuating fashion a to think of; for, indeed, the Chloris is hut dust and a nam ilere, then, I invoke thee, Fe friend equally of the wise and Say, then, by what best name cit-- Giver of joy, solo balm of wound Loves harbinger, true sun of sun Dispenser of alt true and rare de Who knowst alone dejected hdpc And gildst her rainbow with fr lights, Youths passion, manhoods glorys wreath, Friend of all life, and solacer in 66 The Life and Opinions Shall I call thee also, instigator of knaves, the equal friend of good and evil for thy functions are various. We recognize thee under many forms, but now under that which the poet adores, the venerable name of Muse; whom, too, he courts with the choicest works of reason, or the yesty offeriubs of conceit; and thou appearest to him fluttering in borrowed rags, or moving majestic in thy royal robes: idly smiling, or with fixed regard piercing earth and heaven. Or wouldst thou rather I address thee as my dearest mistress, whom I have wor- shipped mistakenly, in forms purely mor- tal? but now I know thee for a spirit, and invisible. Give me thy choicest in- spiration, for I desire to describe a thing which hove all others thou lovest. Thou, who xvast of old the mother of giants and of pigmies,of wars -md the poems which celebrate them,who gayest thy friend 1-Joiner his tenderness and manly simplicity; and to thy mortal paramour, Shakspeare, a power equal to thine own; triformed deitywhom the sods name Esemplastes, and mortals, imabination; come in the garb and figure of thy mother, Nature,for whom the weak in mind do perpetually mistake thee; but bring not thine insolent slave, Vanity, nor brazen Conceit, in whom Proserpine delights; nor appearing as Apollo beheld thee, con- verted into a laurel, which the disappoint- ed god embraced in vain. Appear rather plainly attired, firmly pressing the earth, crowned with a cereal wreath, and bear- ing in thy hand a cup of fresh hohey, mixed with vinegar. Come, Myrio- nomy! She comesbut in what form? 0 soul! in that of Chloris herselfthe inno- cent, the modest, the graceful Chloris. Away ! the sight of thee plunges me in death, for thou art dead thou art (Inst I It was in his twenty-second year, an age, you are well aware, of 5reat sus- ceptibility; the thinking faculty alive, but rather serving the heart than guiding it; the passions more apt than ever to take fire; imagination at her heat; love dominant, and reason as yet fearful of herself, and credulous of suggestion; it was at this age of distemperature that our hero found himself suddenly over- whelmed with a new passion. I will not conceal it; she overcame him with her presence, and though he resisted lbr a time with the eyes of his understanding, yet was he finally conquered, and, as in a tempest carried headlong. I find him at this period ext art of a physician, which lie learned, in a remote village people as far removed from re from mere barbarism; the arts tivate~ and enjoyed, the sourc arts, religion and learning, a totally unknown. A man hc a man, a woman something - woman. The people of the v a strange mingling of sever met in the pursuit of gain; vicinity of mines. Utility, this baser world, claimed an worship; chastity and hones the decline as to be matters o and praise. I stay not upon question, or to relate by wha Master Yorick came to kno. dition of this people; enou lived among them, and did tE tise what he bad learned. him for he was sImple and Where all questions of 1 be reconsidered, as if there scripture or laws of physiolo poitui~ities of original reman and sin ular. Of these our consciously, but skillfully, a~ self; dealing out his phys morals, though on his own l~ little confidence in either, thc gratitude of his patients were wonder to him, and I confess, near making him a charlata lie began to suspect Nature o and that in composing ma made him up totally of lies at tion. Oppressed with doubts of aiid unable to re-confirm hi communication with any Sn: he sank into adespondencyof kind, and even medit~ted suic: so little joy in the present, he of the future state, doubted of er; for, to him whose gate is closed in this lire, the pros in future becomes faint and nay, there is no hell beneath heaven above, but all a wild ment of fire, earth, anil wind life to hima life merely tra undesirable. Following eve of consolation, he addicted hi contemplation of scenery in of Wordsworth, or in some sm ized manner, and wandering over a region of forest-clad divided by valleys like ravi black streams rushed foam Of Philip Yorick, Esq. rocks, or glided beneath interlocking arms of vast hemlocks ; here dashing over white walls unobserved of any hu- man eye but that of our wanderer, or of the solitary hunter stopping momently to quench his thirst; the soul of Master Yorick grew but the more woody and tumultuous; lapsing into a poetic bar- barism, less spiritual than dreamy, and for the most, promising little profit to himself or to the world. Poets, describing the beatitude of Sera- phim, say only that they continually look upward toward Deity. The beatitude of our hero consisted rather in looking downward, beholding the face of nature with the eyes of the hody, which to him were but s3nsuous ministers. As by contact fire kindles fire, the spirit of one man enkindleth that of an- other with its proper fire ; but in soli- tude and the contemplation of things natural, the fire of the soul dies away, and there burns in place of it a smoulder- ing heat, which, if not merely gross, is hard to be distin~ uished from grossness. Not that reason failed alto~ether of her office, painting in vague shapes the mise- ry of his condition, the joy of human fellowship, the true ends and hopes of existence, lie composed, wrote, versi- fledharping tediously even to himself, upon the glory of the visible world, and the features of divinity visible therein; but thought little and wrote less of the unseen; for with all his faults, an imita- tor, a sceptic, an egotist, a dreamer~ a moral critic, a self-tormentor, a weari- some castle-builder; nay worse, a man driven by gross desires into many exces- ses and immoralities, injurious to soul and body, he kept Vs honesty; was al- ways even with himself, and neither evaded nor vainly (leplored the conse- quences of iniquity; saying only what he dared to say, and with a holy horror avoiding to name the power until its presence became clear. Master Yorick was no sentimentalist say rather, he tampered with nothin0, and cried not ont where he found no trea- sure. In the twili0ht of a sultry day in Au- gust, he was returning, weary and op- pressed, from a remote hamlet, to which he h- d been professionally called. His weariness proceeded rather from disgust and lassitude, than from positive fatigue, for, in bodily exercise, I remember him a kind of Nimrod. At the turning of the road over a rocky ridge where it descend VOL. vLNO. 1. 5 ed towards the sunset, a carriii him in which he observed threc a citizen with his wife and d the last named, a young lad countenance, as he caught struck him as wholly unattracl even to homeliness; yettheim~ her look had force enough to riosity, and he spurred his hors vehicle, as it moved swiftly slope. The villa~e lay withi collection of rude dwellings thrown together in the vicin mine. In the midst stood an I high road, maintaining bycont~ of gentility. The carriage stops at the inn the party alight. He arrives i ly after and finds them seated With a cosmopolitan freedom (Iress each other, and are soo footing of acquaintance. The the villa~e might call any m~ and Master Yorick had a gift larity. The stran~er is a propi visits his property. The wife man of much elegance, affable creet. The rlan0 hter, a person. of so many sin0uiar qualities, pleasant, serious, well -iaformc happy, graceful, yet withal so ingly original and keenfor Chlorisit were folly to atteml) trait in any other than a drama The evening of that day he the society of Chloris and he~ For reasons more apparent than to himself they were att~ his conversation, xvh ich, while depart from simplicity, or even of phrase and manner, yet rau to a mood of contemplation, tin melancholy nd sharpened by a more poignant as it was spontan never either narrow or maliciou From evening to evening ChIc herself happy in the society o Yorick; nor did he fail soon to the beauty of her soul. In th occupations of the day, her v lowed him and the power of h His mad nature worship gave p passionate longing for human s~ but of a strain so refined and ra he thought he seemed to have di a new world, much nearer hea fully partaking of its blisses; ways dashed with an inexplicab choly, which, to call either am platonic, were to defame the pa~ fis cause. But one thing satisfi. 1847.1 68 Revolutionary Reminiscences connected to be near each other. I enjoy all things in you, he confessed in all things I behold you love seems to me the God of this visible sphere, and I a creature of lovean embodiment, an im- personation of its power. By hand, by sight, by voiceeven by remote sounds J am persuaded of your goodness you are my world, my nature. if they were near, they were soon nearer. They sat, moved, listened, dreamed, thought together. She confessed that in thunder, in the sound of waters, the sighing of wind, there was a sound that betrayed the secret. Involving and in became indissolubly oneal dreamed must bewas surely table condition. In the course of all truc whether of love or hate, of k imaginationthere is a tim sorption, when self departs and centres in the object; martyrs by a faith merely nr one function of the soul rest; the imagination or ti comes lord over the other lays them in a trance. REVOLUTIONARY REMINISCENCES CONNECTED WITH Ti-I ROBERT MORRIS, ESQ., THE FINANCIER. IT is next to impossible to form any just estimate of the great event of the Amei~ican Revolution. The mind be- comes lost in a comparison of the small- ness of the means to the magnitude of the end. Nothing but a belief in that superior power which guides nations to their destinysilently gathers and dis- poses inferior causes to some mighty is- sue, and selects its own time for produ- cing results the most unexpected and startling, can solve what else must for ever remain beyond human comprehen- sion. It belongs not to our present design to dwell upon :the greatness of a theme which has called forth the highest pow- ers of eminent historians and orators, and awakened a world to its sublimity. It is simply our design to record some of the incidents of the Revolution connect- ed with the life of one of the extraordi- nary men who graced that period ; whose name, though well known, is not often enough brought before the public, and does not, we have thought, command that estimation and honor so eminently due to the ardor of his patriotism, the wisdom of his counsel, and his self sac- rificing devotion to his country in the times of her greatest need. The tendency of the human mind to be dazzled by deeds of armsthe pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war are so great and universal, that we are always liable to yield too much to their influence, and to forget the arduous labors of the cabinet, in tE tering achievements of the Assuredly we would not tently derogate in the slig from the hard-earned fame soldier of the Revolution. 1 theirvalor and indomitable e privations that sicken the contemplation, never fail to in us every feeling of grat ardor of enthusiasmand n fear we are chargeable with the immortal conductor of conflict, of whom it may be: truth, that among all men lated by history none hi. be his parallel. Let it not be forgotten, h. there were united in the ca men in council, whose hr high, and whose souls w aroused to the magnitude as were those of the dev leaders whose actions hay. names im1)erishable. Among the foremost of Robert Morris, the Financir whose enlarged views of ti which the colonies were gage, impressed him with t the greater difficulty in the c be to provide the sinews who seeing this, at once rec up the retirement for which means he was preparing, a xvard to devote himself and the service of his country.

Revolutionary Reminiscences Connected with the Life of Robert Morris, Esq., the Financier 68-81

68 Revolutionary Reminiscences connected to be near each other. I enjoy all things in you, he confessed in all things I behold you love seems to me the God of this visible sphere, and I a creature of lovean embodiment, an im- personation of its power. By hand, by sight, by voiceeven by remote sounds J am persuaded of your goodness you are my world, my nature. if they were near, they were soon nearer. They sat, moved, listened, dreamed, thought together. She confessed that in thunder, in the sound of waters, the sighing of wind, there was a sound that betrayed the secret. Involving and in became indissolubly oneal dreamed must bewas surely table condition. In the course of all truc whether of love or hate, of k imaginationthere is a tim sorption, when self departs and centres in the object; martyrs by a faith merely nr one function of the soul rest; the imagination or ti comes lord over the other lays them in a trance. REVOLUTIONARY REMINISCENCES CONNECTED WITH Ti-I ROBERT MORRIS, ESQ., THE FINANCIER. IT is next to impossible to form any just estimate of the great event of the Amei~ican Revolution. The mind be- comes lost in a comparison of the small- ness of the means to the magnitude of the end. Nothing but a belief in that superior power which guides nations to their destinysilently gathers and dis- poses inferior causes to some mighty is- sue, and selects its own time for produ- cing results the most unexpected and startling, can solve what else must for ever remain beyond human comprehen- sion. It belongs not to our present design to dwell upon :the greatness of a theme which has called forth the highest pow- ers of eminent historians and orators, and awakened a world to its sublimity. It is simply our design to record some of the incidents of the Revolution connect- ed with the life of one of the extraordi- nary men who graced that period ; whose name, though well known, is not often enough brought before the public, and does not, we have thought, command that estimation and honor so eminently due to the ardor of his patriotism, the wisdom of his counsel, and his self sac- rificing devotion to his country in the times of her greatest need. The tendency of the human mind to be dazzled by deeds of armsthe pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war are so great and universal, that we are always liable to yield too much to their influence, and to forget the arduous labors of the cabinet, in tE tering achievements of the Assuredly we would not tently derogate in the slig from the hard-earned fame soldier of the Revolution. 1 theirvalor and indomitable e privations that sicken the contemplation, never fail to in us every feeling of grat ardor of enthusiasmand n fear we are chargeable with the immortal conductor of conflict, of whom it may be: truth, that among all men lated by history none hi. be his parallel. Let it not be forgotten, h. there were united in the ca men in council, whose hr high, and whose souls w aroused to the magnitude as were those of the dev leaders whose actions hay. names im1)erishable. Among the foremost of Robert Morris, the Financir whose enlarged views of ti which the colonies were gage, impressed him with t the greater difficulty in the c be to provide the sinews who seeing this, at once rec up the retirement for which means he was preparing, a xvard to devote himself and the service of his country. 1847.] TVith the Life of Robert Morris. We are not about to write his life, which has been already written. We hope however to add some facts, and to give a new version to some already known; to show in stronger contrast than has yet been shown how, from the smallest means, the most extraordinary results are obtained through the energies of a single powerful mind, and the devoted ness of a great heart. The father of Robert Morris had his residence at Oxford, Talbot County, eastern shore of Maryland, and was en- gaged in carrying on a large trade in tobacco, with Liverpool. As there was nothing peculiarly re- markable in his life, nothing further is recorded of him than that he was a gen- tleman of exalted character. The fol- lowing epitaph is taken from his tomb- stone in White Marsh Church, in St. Pe- ters Parish, about five miles from Ox- ford: In memory of Robert Morris, a native of Liverpool in Great Britain, late a iner- chant at Oxford in this Province. Punc- tual integrity influenced his dealings principles of honor governed his actions with an uncommon degree of sincerity, he despised artifice and dissimulation. His friendship was firm, candid and valuable. His charity frequent, secret and well adapted. His zeal for the public good active and useful. His hospitality was enhanced by his conversation, seasoned with cheer- ful wit and sound judgment. A salute from the cannon of a ship, the wad fractur- ing his arm, was the signal by which he departed, greatly lamented as he was esteemed, in the fortieth year of his age, on the 12th day of July, iThO. 1he gun which so suddenly ended his life, was fired under very peculiar cir- cumstances. We give them as we have received them from his son, the present Thomas Morris, Esquire, former- ly United States Marshal for this district, to whose supervision all the facts con- tained in this article have been submitted that no doubt may exist as to their accu- racy. It was usual at that period, soon after the arrival of a ship from a foreign port, for the captain to give an entertainment on board to the con~4o~nee and his friends, and as a compliment to the guests on their leaving the ship, it was the cus- tom to fire a single gun. Mr. Morris father on an occasion of this kind, which he attended as consignee, had a pre sentiment the salute would pro himand so strong was the excited in his mind, that hr from the captain a promise tb~ emony should be dispensed w gun however, had been bade captain unfortunately forgot the whole crew that no salute given. Accordingly when th the ships side, a sailor who had that the salute had been count. and upposing the omission cidental, hastily lighted a mate it to the gtln, and the wadding Morris shoulder with such fb~ mortification ensued which spc ed in his death. The subject of this memoir in Liverpool, England, in the January, 1733old style. Left an orphan at the age yearshe had been previously his father in the counting.hou Charles Willing, an eminent in the city of Philadelphia, capacity and good conduct se him the firm and lasting friendsi employer, for whom during his young Morris frequently trans siness of the greatest importn made negotiations to lar0e amo In 1754, at the early age of so high was the estimate of h that a co-partnership was forme. him and Mr. Thomas Willing, his employer, which continue year 1793. But when the commenced between the colonic mother country, long before the out of the Revolution, his whc revolted against tyranny, and ti interests as a merchant suffere he was among the first to pro sign the famous non-importati ment in the year 1765, by whi large portion of the merchants delphia bound themselves to con commercial intercourse with Gre to the mere necessaries of life, difficulties then pending shoul tled. When the day of trial actual when the news of the massacre ]ngton reached Philadelphia, at P. M., four days after it took p Morris was presiding at the din. on the usual celebration of St. day, 23d April, 1775. A disc on a previous occasion, had tak on the all-absorbing topic of the creasing difficulties with the TO Revolutionary Reminiscences connected country; moderate counsels had pre- vailed, it having been agreed upon, for the moment, to acquiesce and pay the stamp duties; but no sooner was it known that American blood had been spilled, than the tables laid to celebrate the anniversary of the English saint were overturned. A vow was made, and a resolution taken then and there, by the high-souled patriot who had presided over the ceremonies, a dedication of him- self and all that he possessed, to the new cause was pronounced, and forever after- wards faithfully kept. Little, however, could he then know that the fate of his country was in otfe way to become in- trusted to him alonethat on him it would depend to feed and clothe the struggling armies that were to raise the standard of freedom in the western world. In the same year, in November, he was elected by the Legislature of Penn- sylvania to the second Congress. In 1776 he was re-elected, and was a strong advocate, as he is welt known to have been a signer, of the Declaration of Inde- pendence. Two or three days after the battle of Trenton, which was fought in the latter part of December in this year, it became a matter of great moment to Gen. Wash- ington to obtain a sum of money in specie, in order to keep himself well in- formed of the designs and movements of the enemy. The commander-in-chief well knew to whom alone he could apply with success; he Wrote to Mr. Morris, and the following reply was immediately dispatched PIJILADELPHTA, Dec. 30, 1776. SIRI have just received your favor of this day, and sent toGen. Putnam to detain the express until I collected the hard money you want, which you may depend shall be sent in one specie or other with this letter, and a list thereof shall be in- closed herein. I had long since parted with very considerable sums of hard money to Con~,ress, and therefore must collect from othersand as matters now stand, it is no easy thing. I mean to borrow silver and promise payment in gold, and will then collect the gold in the best manner I can. Whilst on this subject, let me inform you that there is upwards of twenty thousaod dollars in silver at Ticonderoga. They have no particular use for it, and I think you might as well send a party to hring it away, and lodge it in a safe place convenient for any purposes for which it may hereafter be wanted. Whatever I can do for the good of the cause. I am, dear sir, This act in itself shows mind and liberality of Mr. it is only one of the many ex of his munificence. Not long afterwards, wh ton had just re-crossed the second time, the period o nearly all the eastern troop: pired, and the genera? havi upon them to serve six weeV promising each soldier a dollars, the military chest afford him the means to con promise. On the 31st of Dec he wrote again to Mr. Mo~ plied to him the next morn honored with your favor of Mr. Howell, late last nigh solicitous to comply with Lions, I am up very early ti to dispatch a supply of Ill dollars to your excellency receive that sum with this will not be got away so eat wish, for none concerned i ment, except myself, are rouse them immediately. great pleasure that you havc troops to continue; and if sional supplies of money a you may depend on my exc in a l)ublic or lirivate cap- letter is dated January 1st, 1 In March of the same third time appointed, in cc Benjamin Franklin,George C Wilson, Daniel Roberdeau, B. Smith, to represent the Pennsylvania in Congress, a her he was selected, with N Mr. Jones, to repair to the a fidentially to consult wit mander-in-chief upon the ble means of conductin~ a paign. In August, 1778, pointed a membeY of the star tee of finance. Besides his advances in was his enthusiasm in the that the almost unlimited sessed was always put in supply whatever the wret the finances of the cout necessary. The years 17 were the two most distres: the war. Judge I~eters re lowing anecdote as having 1847.1 With the Life of Robert lllorris. about that time: We (the Board of War) had exhausted all the lead acces- sible to us, having caused even the spouts of houses to he melted, and had unsuccessfully offered the equivalent of two shillings, specie, (25 cents) per pound for lead. I went in the evening of the day on which I received a letter from the army, to a splendid entertain- ment given by Don Mirailles, the Spanish minister. My heart was sad, but I had the faculty of brightening my counte- nance even under gloomy disasters; yet it seems not then with sufficient adroit- ness, for Mr. Morris, who was one of the guests, and knew me well, discovered some casual trait of depression. 1-Ic accosted me in his usual frank and dis- engaged manner, sayin.. : I see some clouds passing across the sunny coun- tenance you assume; what is the matter ? After some hesitation, I showed him the generals letter, which I had brought from the office, with the intention of p1 rcing it at borne in a private cabinet. He j)layed with my anxiety, which he did not re- lieve for some time. At len th, however, with great and sincere delight, he called me aside, and told me that the Holker privateer had just arrived at his wharf, with ninety tons of lead, which she had brought as ballast. It had been landed at Martinique, and stone ballast had sup- plied its place; hut this had been put on shore, and the lead again taken in. You shall have. said Mr. M., my half of this fortunate supply; there are the owners of the other half, (indicating gen- tlemen in the apartment.) Yes, but I am already under heavy personal engage- ments as guarantee for the department, to those and other gentlemen. Well, rejoined Mr. Morris, they will take your assumption with my guarantee. 1 in- stantly, on these terms, secured the lead, left the entertainment, sent for the proper officers, and set more tha~ one hundred people to work during the night. Before mornin~ a supply of cartridges was ready and sent off to the army. I could relate many more such occurrences. Well might this last remark be made by Judge Peters, for the whole history of the war is one continue(l narrative of want of public means to sustain it, and of the most indisputable testimony, by private letters and public documents that in almost every instance, before and after he became financier, Mr. Morris de- oted the whole of his private fortune, and his unbounded credit, to the furnish- log of supplies of every natur could not be obtained from source. In 1781, a period in our revc history when Congress and mander-in-chief were driven despair, Mr. Morris on his ow credit supplied the famishin. with several thousand barrels and thus arrested the design en of authorizing the seizure of ~ wherever they could be found sure which would inevitably pleased the whole country, c pat~otism, and probably turned course of the Revolution. In a letter to Thomas Lowr. of New Jersey, dated 29th M Mr. Morris writes: It seems Washington is now in the utm sity for some immediate supplier and I must undertake to proc or tbe laws of that necessity m in force, which I shall ever avoid and prevent. I must the quest that you will immediately best skill, judgment and md procurin0 on the lowest terms one thousand barrels of swc flour, and sending it forward t the most expeditious manner can contrive. I know to do must pledge your private credit have no money ready,although of raising it are in my powe also pledge myself to you, w; most solemnly, as an officem publicbut lest you should, l othems believe iriore in private public credit, I hereby pledg to pay you the cost and charg. flour in hard money, and th you honorably to fulfill your ment. So in another letter of sam Maj. Gen. Schuyler, he says, Washington is in distress for w immediate supply of flour. Im fore request you will take 1 speedy and effectual measures to the order of his Excellency sand barrels, and for your ment you may either take me lie or private man; for I pledge repay you with hard money required, or part bard, part pa you transact the business. In promise (and you may rely that sideration whatever shall indu make a promise that 1 do not sr pability to perform) that I wi 72 Revolutionary Reminiscences connected YOU to fulfill your engagements. for this supply of flour. These two parcels of flour came to the timely relief of the troops, and thus did this man of won(ler- ful resources constantly raise supplies which the gov& nment found itself inca- pable of furnishing. So much for his measures taken with private individuals. But this could not satisfy his great zeal. In 1781, he effected a contract with the State of Pennsylvania by which he undertook tq supply all the requisitions made by Congress on that State during the current year, on receiving as a reim- bursement all the taxes imposed hya~aw recently enacted. On the 25th of June, the contract was agreed to, and on the 6th of July following, Congress passed a resolution approving of the transaction. Not content with this, his great financial talents were put in requisition, and he actually raised for a time the paper cur- rency of the State from the low rate of six for one, to that of two for one. And this he accomplished by at first making all his tontracts payable in paper money, (payable at a future day,) and by selling Bills of Exchange to fulfill them, after- wards receiving and paying the paper money at a smaller rate of depreciation than that at which it had been previous- ly received; and at each successive ope- ration the rate was lowered by accepting it at the improved rate for other Bills of Exchange. The paper was not used for immediate supplies, because this would check its progress towards par; for if it had been paid out in quantities from the treasury there would have been a conse- quent depreciation. On this subject he remarked, that in view of those evils which inevitably follow from the issuing of paper money, and which always have attended that measure in a greater or less degree, it was most advisable to purchase with specie, and supply the want of cash by the supply of credit, until suffi- cient funds could be raised for the public exigencies by taxeshence hs constant and most strenuous exertions were used, to induce Congress to fund the public deht. It was near this period that General Gates, who was intimately known to Mr. Morris called on him to consult with him, about accepting the command of the army in the South. On this occasion Mr. Morris stated to the General the many difficulties and embarrassments he would meet with, and frankly told him he feared his habits of business were not adapted to that command. Mr. M., you would sink complicated perplexities you to encounter. I advise yoi satisfied with the laurels you ed at Saratoga. I fear they if you accept the command. and candid advice was disn command was accepted, and trous battle of Camden too t~ the foresight of IVIr. Morris. XVhile on the subject of th Army, to the command of ral Greene had succeeded, may he somewhat out of cb order, we may as well here anecdote, no proper versior has been yet published. After the termination of h~ General Greene called at the nance, on Mr. Morris, and h course of the interview ent what at large into the extrem: he had had to encounter, he not superstitious, Mr. Morri~ cannot help believing that on rate occasions there was a spe. sition of Providence in my which prevented the disban army. I had, on more thai sion, surmounted difficulties first appeared impossible to ov at length while seated in my whelined by the gloomy ap: of a fate which seemed inevit visited by a gentleman whon casionally seen ahout the can had never particularly attrac tice. You appear, General, visitor, to be in much disti the impression that it may a want of money, I have vent proach you, to tender to yo your relief. I have now in sion thirty thousand pounds, your command, and for which your draft on the financier. Half astonished, I accepted ered une. pected relief, when camp and I saw no more of subsequent occasion when I in the same painful dilemma. at this time called upon me, me with the required funds drafts, and I never saw Why do you smile, Mr: ~ added, as the story was Did you never, said Mr. M pect who sent this person to y ployed him to watch your No 1 replied the General I 1847j With the Life of Robert Morris. occur to you that he was employed by me? By you, sir, said the General angrily, seizing the hilt of his sword, and did you distrust me? My confi- dence in you, replied Mr. Morris, was greater than in almost any human being. I knew that your mental resources were such that you could surmount difficulties and extricate yourself from embarrass- ments under which any other man would sinkbut I knew at the same time, that if this money were left at your disposal, you would use it before the time of your greatest and most indispensable neceSsi- ty arrivedtherefore, being limited in the sum of money appropriated to your army, and sorely pressed myself on every hand, I found it incumbent upon me to provide for its being advanced to you, only when it became impossible for you to do without it. After a few moments reflection, Greene said, You were right, sir; I should, without restriction, have made use of it too early, and your pre- caution has been the means of saving my army. It was of course previous to this, that Mr. Morris had been appointed by Con- gress to the office, us it was then called, of financier, equivalent to the present Se- cretary of the Treasury; and we know of nothing in the whole history of the Re- volution, filled as it is with the touching evidences of a self-sacrificing spirit, showing a more noble devotion, than the acceptance by Mr. Morris of the Super- intendence of the finances of the country at a time when there was not only no money in the treasury, but when it was more than two millions and a half of dollars in arrearsand when General Washington presented in his Military Journal on the first of May, 1781, the fol- lowing deplorable account of the State of the army and its destitution of resources: Instead of having Magazines filled with provisions, we have a scanty pittance scattered here and there in the several States. Instead of having our arsenal well supplied with military stores, they are poorly provided and the workmen all leaving them. Instead of having the vari- ous articles of field equipage ready to de- liver, the Quarter-Master-General is hut now applying to the several States (as the dernier resort) to provide these thin0s for their troops respectively. Instead of hav- ing a regular system of transportation es- tablished upon credit, or funds in the quarter-masters hands to defray the con- tingent expenses of it, we have neither the one nor the otherand all ness, or the greater part of it, hy military impressment, we ~r hourly oppressing the peopl their tempers, and alienating tions. Instead of having the completed to their new estab scarce any State of the Union b hour one eighth part of its qi field, and there is little prospect see of ever getting more than on a word, instead of having eves readiness to take the field, we thin~,; and instead of having the a glorious offensive campaign he: have a bewildered and gloomy a defensive one, unless we shoi a powerful aid of ships, land-ti money, from our generous a these at present are too coating upon ! Such was the state of thi Mr. Morris was called upon the labor of bringing order o chaos, to provide means wheic isted, and to give a new tone to our languishing and fri hopes. In this great dilemma, he did tate a moment, but upon ass official station, immediately p ed his determination punctuali all his engagementsdrew his from his private fortune and thus suddenly changed the s. public deficiencies disappeared could supply the public wants ger to furnish whatever the sell. Nor was this the only instan have seen, in which he lavishc pIe means, whenever he was purchase what was needed b of the public credit. When appointed to the he Treasury, he wrote in reply cepting the office bestowed sacrifice much of my interest, my domestic enjoyment and tranquillity. If I know toy ow make these sacrifices with a di ed view to the service of myco am willing to go still further, United States may command e I have excepting my integrity loss of that would effectually d from serving titem more. This acceptance of the offier nancier, tendered to him by t1 mous vote of Congress, was express condition, and the com derstanding, that the Public I 74 Revolutionary Rerninzscences connected due, should be funded according to the scale of depreciation at which it had been contracted. The financier, contend- ed that the country was in a condition to pay annually the interest on the amount then due, and he offered, if Congress would furnish him with the requisite au- thority, that he woul(i call forth her re- sources. He represented that this mea- sure alone could establish confidence; that it would enable him to borrow abroad the funds that were indispensable to the prosecution of the war; that the punctual payments it would secure for the supplies to the army, would enable him to introduce a rigid system of econo- my which would greatly reduce the pub- lic expenditure. It is well known that Congress never complied with the pro- mise thus made. When applied to for performance, the reply was, Borrow! open a loan in Holland, and another i.n Spain. In vain was it rejoined that Eu- ropeans would not lend, having no con- fidence: When applied to by a~ents in my employ, said Mr. Morris, the an- swer is, invariably, You do not pay the interest of your present debt, and should, therefore, not expect further credit.~ Fatigued, worn out and disheartened in his repeated appeals to the justice and integrity of Congress, he caused his re- signation to be presented; when that body immediately passed, and served upon him an injunction of secrecy, and he was prohibited from making known, even to General Washington, that his resignation had been tendered. A secret committee was then appointed to wait upoii Mr. Morris, with injunctions to in- sist upon his withdrawing his resi~na- tion; and to represent the disastrous consequences that would ensue from it. Mr. Morris again insisted, as a condition to his remaining in office, that Congress should immediately fund the existing debt; and that an act of Congress should be passed for his recall to office. The committee promised to use their strongest influence and best exertions to accomplish the former, but it was never done. The Act of Congress was, however, passed, and he resumed his official (luties. Among the well-known expedients re- sorted to by Mr. IViorris, to resuscitate public credit, was the establishment of the Bank of North America, at Philadel- phia. His partner, Mr. Thomas Willing, was appointed President, and Teach Francis, Cashier. The plan was digest- ed and arranged by Mr. Morris, who2 to establish confidence, proposed tion among his wealthy fell in the form of bonds, obligin pay, if it should become nec- amounts affixed to their nam and silver, for the purpose c the enga0ements of the hank. ed the list with a subscription c and was followed by others to of 315,000, Pennsylvania $840,000. The directors were to borrow money on the ci bank, and to grant special not an interest of six per cent. of the members was to be emt their money advanced, if neck no emoluments whatever wei rived from the institution. while they expressed a high transaction, pled~ed the fa United States effectually to and indemnify the associators Thus, through this patrioti- der the influence of the Mastei was erected an institution for of supplying and transporti army three millions of ration hundred hogsheads of rum; a time when the public exig. the most pressing, and the p at the lowest ebb: and thus a until the ensuing year, when North America was finally under a charter from Congres The great difficulty to enab poration to commence its opei that of procuri;;g specie to gi its hills. To ensure an adeqi of this essential article, which to be very difficult, Mr. lVlorr to the Governor-General of W whom he had previously had acquaintance, to supply Ha~ specified term of years, with duced prices. The amount o quired was specified at thr thousand dollars; and to en dence in the performance of the contract, Mr. Morris i. French Minister to guaranty, of his government, the faithf ance of it. Such was the co tertained by the Financier in of this application, that he s frigate Trumbul to bring hom In the mean time the prefim sures necessary to the banks operation were taken; the P been appointed,the new bills g & c., when, to the utter disapp all concerned, the frigate ret 1847j With the Lffe of Robert Morris. out a dollar. Baffled in his expectations of procuring the specie from Havana, the persevering and indomitable Finan- cier did not give up the establishment of the bank, but immediately went to work to collect all the specie that could be ob- tained in the United States, which, after the most assiduous industry, resulted in collecting forty thousand dollars. This amount was accordingly deposited in the bank, and the moment the doors were opened they were thronged with appli- cants for specie, in payment for the spe- cial notes and for checks he had drawn upon it. The payment of these being promptly met, gave some confidence, but Mr. Morris saw that its small specie capi- tal must be soon exhausted, unless mea- sures were adopted to procure a further supply. He therefore employed agents to watch every person who had carried from it any amount of specie, and then took measures to obtain it again from its possessors, when it was immediately re- deposited; and this was closely followed up and practised for six weeks, at the end of which time its bills having been duly and regularly paid, its credit became so firmly established that the very drafts and bills, which at first were considered not to be any better than depreciated paper money, being found equivalent to specie, and more convenient in trade, passed current in all commercial transac- tions, at a specie value, and that article was seldom demanded of the bank; and when demanded, only in small quantities. In justice to the good faith which has been preserved by that bank, it is but proper to state that it is still in existence, under a charter from the State of Penn- sylvania, and that it has ever faithfully fulfilled all its contracts; its notes now are, and always have been, punctually redeemed, except on those occasions when, under a general pressure, all the banks have been obliged to suspend spe- cie payments. Its stock has always been above pal, and no similar institution has ever been better managed. Thus, from the very commencement of the difficul- ties between the mother country and the colonies, had Mr. Morris borne a con- spicuous part; always at the head of every measure which was resorted to for the purpose of obtaining money or sup- plies for the public service. After the arrival of the French army the whole country was in the most eager expectations that some important blow would be struck; and General Washing- tons first intentions were to a York, then in possession of In chan0ing this determinatior mitted by all, that Mr. Morris siderable agency; but the foll tailed statement we have rece the most undoubted source, 1 Mr. Morris, of whom we spoken, now residing in Nexv received it from the great Fina self, and we give it in his o~ Mr. Morris representation to General Washington at hen when the attack on New Yo contemplation, was as folloxvs I went from Philadelphia quarters for the express purp suadiag the Commander-in-chic meditated attack on New York, senting to him the immense that must flow from his leadin. to Yorktown. Shortly after my camp I had an interview wit Washington, and during the with him, I first suggested to hi priety of abandoning his projec on New York. I represented t the loss of life and expenditure which could not he replaced, cessarily be great; that the soc measure was, to say the least, that even if successful the trium as to results, be a barren one enemy having the command could at any time land fresh trot take it, for that we could not affoi in New York, for any length o army adequate, in point of numb retention. To all this the Gene ed, hut replied, What am I to country calls on me for action over, my army cannot he kep unless some hold enterprise is ur To this I rejoined, Why not forces to Yorktown ; there Corn be hemmed in by the French fle and the American and French land, and will ultimately be co surrender. Lead my troops to X said the General, appearing to ished at the sug~estion. Ho. get them there? One of my about attacking New York arise want of hinds to transport my ther. How then can I muster 1 that will he requisite to enabi march to Yorktown? You me me for funds, I replied. Anc you to provide them? again demo General. That I am unable at t~ tell you, was my reply, but I wi with my head, that if you put ~ in motion I will supply the mea reaching Yorktown. After a fe 76 Revolutionary Reminiscences connected reflection, the General said, On this assurance of yours, Mr. Morris, such is ray confidence in your ability to perform any en~agement you are willing to make, ~ will adopt your suggestion. We are aware that Judge Peters states, in his letter to Ceo. Harrison, that he was present at head-quarters when the sug- gestion was made by Gen. Washington, of marching to Yorktown, but the nar- rative we have given was made by Mr. Morris himself to his familyand, as Judge Peters was incapable of making a false statement, it is most probable that, after the conversation, as narrated by Mr. Morris, in which he made no mention of Judge Peters or any other person being present, a subsequent discussion of this subject was had, in which both Judge Peters and Mr. Morris were present; and as it would be more respectful to the Judge, then at the head of the war dle- partment, and more so to the commander- in-chief, the first mention of the matter in council was made by himself. Be this as it may, the very circumstantial ac- count given of this affair by Mr. Morris, can leave no doubt of its truth, when the great share he took in everything that was done, and his constant commu- nications with Gen. Washington of the most confidential nature, are recol- lected. When the army had reached Philadel- plAa, Mr. Morris public resources, and those borrowed on his private account, were exhausted. In this situation he was informed that the army having been for a long time unpaid, great discontent had manifested itself, and that, without some money being paid to the troops, it was apprehended they might prove re- fractory and refuse to embark from the head of Elk to the place of their desti- nation. In this new dilemma, the supplies hav- ing all been provided, Mr. Morris applied to the French Minister, the Chevalier de Luzerne, and solicited a loan of twenty thousand crowns, representing to him the immense advantages that would en- sue from the capture of Cornwallis ar- my, and the almost certainty with which such a result might be promised, if a pay- ment could be made to the troops, so as to enable Washington to lead them on to Yorktown. He also painted in strong colors the danger of the failure of the whole project, should the money be re- fused. The chevalier was a man of sound sense, and was very anxious for the success of the expedition, while he knew the threatened da failure, from the refusal on vance the money. He was under the necessity of so do that he had barely on ha enough to pay the French was true, he said, that he ha vised of two frigates having France with specie for him, bo very much out of time, and h ful they had been captured these frigates arrived, the am for would be cheerfully grantc circumstanced as he was, no tion could induce him to dive put into his hands for the pay troops of his sovereign to an~ pose, without the certainty ti be replaced in time to meet I ments of the French army. anxious to increase the Chev: est in the affair, then propo~ should take a seat in his, J carriage, on the following d with him to the head of Elk army was to embark for To this proposal the Cheva assented, and they set out to~ next morning. They had not miles before an express ridc ceived, pressing on, in headlo Philadelphia. Mr. Morris c the messenger and inquired fi was bearing dispatches. Tb himself. Instantly opening found they contained advices val in the Delaware of the two pected by the Chevalier. their safety, the Chevalier sented to furnish the mone long after their arrival at Elk, the dissatisfied troops w. But soon another feeling wa for drays were driven before taming kegs of half crowns some of them were knocked fect, and the specie rolled out the great joy and astonishn soldiers. They were they cheerfully embarked for Yori The astonishment and de army at this display of speci most lively kind. One of vociferated at the top of Look! look, Jonathan! by hard money! We shall not dwell upon result of the attack upon which proved the crowning of the Revolution, and was ger of peace. Our article itself to a length beyond ou 1847.] With the Lf/e of Robert .Morris. we must therefore look towards its con- clusion. We cannot forbear, however, to give some further detached evidences of the invaluable services of Mr. Mor- ris, which we have reason to believe have never been published. The reader must long since have dis- covered from our narrative that there was one trait in Mr. Morris character which crowned all others, and largely contribu- ted to give him the immense financial power which he so ably wielded. This was his unbounded, unswerving, never- ending confidence, in the ultimate success of the struggle.-and this, perhaps, is no- where more conspicuously shown than in the following hold measure. Towards the close of the war the Chevalier de Luzerne had agreed to advance a large amount, the exact extent of which is not remembered. But when called upon by Mr. Morris to fulfill his engagement, the binding force of which he fully admitted, he stated that the pecuniary wants of his own sovereign precluded the possibility of that engagement being complied with. Ja vain did the financier urge upon the Chevalier the fatal effects of his non-coin- pliance-~-the ruin it would entail upon the causebe inflexibly persevered in his refusalwhen Mr. Morris informed him the exigencies were so great, that he (Mr. M.) would take the responsibili- ty and draw on the French treasury for the full amount of the stipulation. In answer to which he was informed by the Chevalier, that~ he would write and ad- vise the protesting of the hills. But the confidence with which Mr. Morris Was inspired, in the ultimate result, and that the contest must ere long end favor- ably to the United States, nerved him; and he drew the bills, accompanied with a letter to the Count de Vergenes, then Prime Minister of France, giving faithful details of the whole transaction, which resulted in the payment of the money, although the Chevalier also wrote, ad- vising the protest of the bills. The following letters will show more fully than anything we can say, the feel- ings of some of the most distinguished men of the Revolution, on the subject of the appointment of Mr. Morris as public financier. Extract of a letter from John Hancock President of Congress, to Robert Jktor- rzs. I exceedingly approve your conduct with regard to the ships in your river, and think your officers discovered the spirit of mcii; at the same time, your interference, under the circumstances, w necessary. I dare say, your the several armed vessels, a fully convinced of the remova from your capes, will fully probation of Congress. With appearance of flattery, I car your whole conduct, since highly approved, and I am ha remained. Many agreeable c have resulted from it, and yo exertions will be productive c I must therefore beg you wil long as you can, though I Si you a happy sight of good iX but I fear your departure from might occasion a relaxation ti prejudicial. I know, howev. put things in a proper way; depends upon you, and you ha thanks for your unrernittin b public are much indebted to hope to see the day when thor knowledgments shall be made I hope we shall be able fix upon some other place oi As things have turned out, I ai we removed at all; indeed were full hasty enough: but y ing there, and conductin~, bus will give a spring, and, joined ence of our successes, will mak flight of Congress. Extract of a letter from Ge Lee to .Mr. .Morris. You are, I find, placed at the finances. It is an office tF wish you joy of; the labor is Herculean; the filth of that Ao is, in my opinion, too great to away, even by your skill ani but however you succeed in t~ sure you that you are almost th on the whole continent in w the management of my personal should wish should be deposite. Extract of a letter from Ge~ Gates. My conclusion from all thi you can place public credit u~ foundation, let the operation slow, so that it be but sure, you be immortal. Your taking up ness at this important crisis, o the more honorable to you, but satisfied, from the circumstance it, infinitely promote your succo When men see you promise you intend to perform, and that upon a solid basis, they will giv. utmost confidence; that obtai sticcess will be apparent. Yo know to be equal to everytbir your heart I will not say anyth 78 Revolutionary Reminiscences connected lest yon think me a flatterer, and that is a trade 1 am too old to learn or to practise. Letter from Dr. Franklin.. PAssEY, July 26, 1781. DEAR SixI have just received your very friendly letter of the 6th of June past, announcing your appointment to the super- intendence of our finances. This gives me great pleasure, as from your intelli- gence, integrity and abilities, there is every reason to hope every advantage that the public can possibly receive from such an office. You are wise in estimating, he- forehand, as the principal advantage you are to expect, the consciousness of having done service to your country. For the business you have undertaken is of so com- plex a nature, and must engross so much of your time and attention, as necessarily to hurt your private interests; and the puhlic often niggardly even of its thanks, while you are sure of bein~ censured by malevolent critics, who will abuse you while you are serving them, and wound your character in nameless pamphlets, thereby resembling those little, dirty, stinking insects that attack only in the dark, disturb our repose, molesting and wounding us, while our sweat and blood are contributing to their subsistence. Eve- ry assistance that my situation here, so long as it continues, may enable me to afford you, shall certainly be given. For, besides my affection for the glorious cause we are both enga0ed in, I value myself up- on your friendship, and shall be happy if mine can be any use to you. With great and sincere esteem, I am ever, dear sir, BENJ. FRANKLIN. .E~rtract of a letter from W. fi - Living- ston, Governor of .New Jersey. DEAR SIRI heartily congratulate you on your appointment to the important office of financier, and I hope no consideration will prevail on you to decline it. I have long wished to see thatdepartment in the hands of one, and I am proud to find that my opinion respecting that one has now re- ceived the sanction of Congress. I am convinced, sir, that no resolution ever passed by that august assembly, will meet with more general approbation. The connexions you have abroad, sir,, as well as the estimation in which you are held at home, will greatly redound to the benefit of the public, in your exercise of the office in question. In the name of liberty and of our independencc, let us be indebted to your talents for being rescued from the brink of destruction And yours be the glory of retrieving the state of our funds at this melancholy crisis of general despair. I am confident that no twenty arguments which even your ingenuity is able to suggest for your declining the ap- pointment, can, in the cool impartial scale of reason, weigh so much as a which I can urge for your accem the good of your country. Letter from Peter Whiteside SIRYou are now called ug voce to the Department of Fi. very serious object. The finan. country a perfect chaosif a ch called perfectthe prejudices ol pie, some in favor of paper mom against it ; the violence of pan fects of envy and malice to corn inclusive of an immense sacrifice fortune as well as private eac numerous list of ills that wil themselves; which may be against, but must, neverthele: experienced. Your situation is ous, and your talents have so employed, that you will, on all be called on; and I foresee whole time and attention will b in one department or the other. The people will expect yo ance of this office, and look up, era, from whence all public ope to resume their former strength gy; they see that a mere specul~ orist will not answer; and in figure you in everythin0 as the o. for the employ. It gave me extreme uneasir you were chosen into the Assin had the same effect in this last but you must yield; we are no ourselves alone, and you are the any one. It has frequently been in th one or a few men to save the cc striking instance of the truth of tion was exhibited in the year 1 General 1-lowe was at Trenton. I was then left alone with y ladelphia, and I am sure, that no two men can claim the merit of sudden and agreeable torn to o fairs; for the most sanguine thin them lost. Yours truly, PETER WRIT Having thus given a sket. public services, as we must thi of the most extraordinary m Revolution, of the Atlas up broad shoulders rested a pen western world, then hut thinl7 convulsed with the throes of engaged in a merciless comite nation second to none in pow sources, we now claim the p adding a few private anecdoi will not he found to possess le~ though of a different nature. The celebrated naval hero, F 1847.] With the Ljfe of Robert Morris. constituted Robert Morris his executor, and by will bequeathed to him s a token of high re0ard, the splendid sword which had been presented to that chivalric naval officer by the King of France. The modesty of Mr. Morris, for which he was so remarkable, would not permit him to retain this tribute to valor. He conceived, therefore, the idea that it was due alike to the donor, and to the naval service of the United States, that it should be in the possession of the oldest com- mander of the American Navy. Accord- in0ly, he presented it to the late brave and distinguished Commodore Barry, with an understanding that it should be by him transmitted by will to the senior officer of the Navy, who should succeed him. Accordingly Commodore Barry devised it to his successor, the valiant Commo- dore Dale. Since the death of the latter officer, this sword has been in the pos- session of his son. Whether given by will, or retained as heir-at-law, is not known. ft is nevertheless fresh in the recollection of a member of Mr. Morris family now living, that when lie was about to present the sword to Commodore Barry, a wish was expressed by Mrs. Morris that it should descend as an heir- loom in their own family; to which her husband replied, that being himself neither a military nor a naval man, he thought it more appropriate that it should now be given to the senior officer of the navy, and from him should descend to the senior officer for the time being, not only as a memento of royal favor to a naval hero, but as indicative of the friendly feeling of the French king to the cause and the service of the United States. Such a trophy in the hands of the officer of highest rank in our naval ser- vice, would undoubtedly be most appro- priate, and it is therefore to be regretted that the intentions of the liberal donor who placed it in the possession of the first senior officer of the American Navy, under the circumstances named, have not been carried out. It is well known that the latter part of Mr. Morris life was embittered by the total loss of his large fortune. There is nothing more sorrowful than the thought of so sad a finish to the career of such a man. Yet so it was to be, and the State of Pennsylvania, for which at several times he had advanced hundreds of thousands of dollars, and to whose ser- vices he had devoted much of the prime of his life, looked on and sa into the depths of ruin, with the slightest aid. Alas he an eye that never winked that never tired, had so; heights of patriotic devotion, companion of the loftiest, the the best, during the long which a nation won the righ perhaps through that sam nature which lierilled a prin for the general wealyie mania for speculation in Ia which followed upon the Revolution, and which o some of the largest capital country. The want of mon ply with his immense contr millions of acres of back lab purchased, plunged him in deeper, till some merciles threw him into prison. Thi; not sn bdne his great spirit. sciousness of unsullied honor motives, was a support that! himthe vigor of his mind subdued, and while he saw the wreck of his hopes ai tions, he submitted to his fa aided resignation. While prison the mechanics of I repeatedly made him offers o relief, assigning as a reason in his days of prosperity he aided to advance their in showed himself their friend, that in the hour of his adv should do whatever they cou ate his misfortunes. Deeply he was by this generous sy gracefully declined the profibr t~rring to bear his ovn burd than diminish the small men who had earned them by inc In connection with his mi story has obtained currency no foundation in truth, and are authorized to contradict. An annuity of fifteen huni was paid to 1\drs. Robert Mo her life, by Governeur Niori this State, and it has been believed to be a donation frot tleman, when it was a sum converted into this annuity Mrs. Morris for the relinqu her dower on four millions land sold by her husband to Land Company, Mr. Governc being the agent through whhz ment was annually made. This small pittance was left 80 Revolutionary Reminiscences. all that was left! of that splendid for- tune which we have seen to have been lavished in loans for the public service, when its return was most doubtful. Private or puhlic liberality was never extended either to Mr. or Mrs. Morris, or to any of their descendants; and although in the days of his prosperity some empty acknowledgments may have been made to the man on whom John Hancock has left the record, that all depended when all was in imminent danger, yet was that man suffered to languish in sorrow and distress, when all was accomplished! and finally abandoned, to go down to the grave deprived of every power to provide even for the support of a family which had been reared in affluence. We feel that we are treading upon sacred ground in touching this delicate subjectrisking the possibility of wounding that native modesty and hon- orable pride in his descendants which has hitherto lireferred to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune in silence, rather than ask from mag- nanimity what should long since have been awarded to justice! Yet thus much we have felt it was but right to say, (without their authority,) not envying the sensations of those, be they whom they may, that can read even this slight sketch of our revolutionary history with- out feeling that of all the instances of public ingratitude of which we have any record, the fate of the financier of the Revolution and his family furnishe~ the most flagrant and unaccountable example. From a portfolio of private compli- mentary letters from Washington, Frank- lin, Madison, Hamilton, Lafayette, Kos- ciusko, Louis Phillipe, Talleyrand, Nec- kar, Gates and others, heroes of the Re- volution, which we have been kindly permitted to examine, we have selected one from the father of his country, which has never before been 1)ublished. It is addressed to Mrs. Morris, and shows that XVashington, up to the latest period of his life, felt the most lively interest in his compatriot, Mr. Morris, and the whole f~ mily. The letter is the more valuable, bearing the signature both of him and of Mrs. Washington. It was written in September of the year in which Washington died. MOUNT VERNON, Sept. 21st, 1799. $ Oua DEAR MADAMWe never learnt with certainty, until we had the pleasure of seeing Mr. White (since from Frederick), that you w chester. We hope it is unnecessary this place, how happy we shor you and Miss Morris under oi long a stay as you shall find before you return to Phitadel~ assured, we ever have, and sti the most affectionate regard f Morris, and the family. With the highest esteem and best wishes for the health ness of the family you are in, madam, Your most ohedien very humble n G. WASHINGTO MARTHA WA5~ To Airs. .Miorris, in Wi Having introduced the na Morris, it may not be irrele mind the reader that she was sister of the late Right Re White, the pious and highi Bishop of Pennsylvania. Here, then, we close this desultory and imperfect me ring our read& s to Marsha Washington, the writings of and the Lives of the Signers claration of Independence, for from which it will be made w Mr. Morris was relied upon casions. Was a measure to in Congress, his counsel was and obtained! Was a clam justed, it must have his Was an office of importance 1 he must help to decide upon the candidate! Was a mov made with the armies, its r ness must have his sanctio command offered to a general sought out Mr. Morris, and t vice on the acceptance of it. furnishing means and suppli really appear as though it doubted, he would prove wit~ them, like the rock of Moses derness, which needed only I to send forth its streams to perishing Israelites. We have no words to exp tense interest with which evc sketch has been prepared; forth the ardent desire we fe and keep alive a remembranc. lustrious dead. They have p without a knowledge of the human happiness and prosp. have flowed from their labors. ly to the millions who are a 1845.] Sillimans American Journal. mediate recipients of these blessings, everything which relates to the sacrifices by which they were purchased, must serve to confirm their inestimable value. To some of our readers much of what is herein related may have heen previous- ly known; hut the actions of such men as must occupy the foreground of a pic- ture of any scene of our revolution can- not too often he presented for cantempla- tion. All ages, all nations, have boast- ed of their heroes, their illustrious men; but the brightest pages of history may be challen0ed for the superiors of those who first established upon a firm basis the freedom of the western world Among these the thoughtful mind of the student of history will most often rest upon the names of Washi. Morris. For with that great always rises before us in thc the Revolution, calm, inflex cious, undismayedthe imme gate of Providencewe fee subject of this imperfect sk scarcely less a presiding genii long and ar(luous struggle. Their memories must go posterity inseparably connecic foundation of this vast empi ing now the breadth of a c iiever had been laid by the generalship and valor of thee out the untiring energy, a parable munificence of the oth SILLIMANS AMERICAN JOURNAL OF SCIENCE AND No-THING, says Humboldt, but serious occupation with chemical, me- chanical, and natural studies, will defend any state from evils assailing it on the side of ignorance, poverty, vice and su- perstition. Through nature dead and inert,the gross material of earth,we are fed and sustained; a condition in which we differ in no respect from inferior animals; the aim of all is but to nurse the life; our greatness and excellence appears only in the wit, the ingenuity, the economy, the Reason ;forcing into our service all the powers of nature; subduing the mountains, rivers, winds, metals, earths, vegetable products; converting vile of- fal into sustenance and comfort. The tactics of this war against dead matter we call Sciencethe practice of it, Art. There are journals, military and edu- cational, gazettes of commerce and war; but of this prime instrument of civiliza- tion, this Science and Art of subduing nature, should there not be as many and as well known We ask this question of our own country only; in Europe, scientific jour- nals are well sustained and greatly re- spected. We admit the impossibility. all that is excellent or desir~ rule of utility; but utility itse dinate to consolation, and of a tions that of knowledge is th nay, it is consolation itself. With these general observati in the present state of know possibly appear trite and ni we come to a more particula the work before us, a Journal one of the most respectable in supported in America, and completed its first series (if fifi a compact body of real iiifo bulletin of the progress of ex ledge in America and in EuR timony to the world, that thei ral spirits, and wise intellects this side the Atlantic, to car tion forward in the road of and true enlightenment. A person unaccustomed to casually taking up a numb journal, would probably fin disappointedwould even ~ee bility of reaping any good fr opens, perhaps, on an analyt nures, an account of a newly. metal, or a table of the in These are rather dry topics, ai * The American Journal of Science and Arts. Conducted hy Professors and B. Silliman, Jr., and James D. Dana. Second Series. No. 8. March New Haven.

Silliman's American Journal of Science and Arts 81-84

1845.] Sillimans American Journal. mediate recipients of these blessings, everything which relates to the sacrifices by which they were purchased, must serve to confirm their inestimable value. To some of our readers much of what is herein related may have heen previous- ly known; hut the actions of such men as must occupy the foreground of a pic- ture of any scene of our revolution can- not too often he presented for cantempla- tion. All ages, all nations, have boast- ed of their heroes, their illustrious men; but the brightest pages of history may be challen0ed for the superiors of those who first established upon a firm basis the freedom of the western world Among these the thoughtful mind of the student of history will most often rest upon the names of Washi. Morris. For with that great always rises before us in thc the Revolution, calm, inflex cious, undismayedthe imme gate of Providencewe fee subject of this imperfect sk scarcely less a presiding genii long and ar(luous struggle. Their memories must go posterity inseparably connecic foundation of this vast empi ing now the breadth of a c iiever had been laid by the generalship and valor of thee out the untiring energy, a parable munificence of the oth SILLIMANS AMERICAN JOURNAL OF SCIENCE AND No-THING, says Humboldt, but serious occupation with chemical, me- chanical, and natural studies, will defend any state from evils assailing it on the side of ignorance, poverty, vice and su- perstition. Through nature dead and inert,the gross material of earth,we are fed and sustained; a condition in which we differ in no respect from inferior animals; the aim of all is but to nurse the life; our greatness and excellence appears only in the wit, the ingenuity, the economy, the Reason ;forcing into our service all the powers of nature; subduing the mountains, rivers, winds, metals, earths, vegetable products; converting vile of- fal into sustenance and comfort. The tactics of this war against dead matter we call Sciencethe practice of it, Art. There are journals, military and edu- cational, gazettes of commerce and war; but of this prime instrument of civiliza- tion, this Science and Art of subduing nature, should there not be as many and as well known We ask this question of our own country only; in Europe, scientific jour- nals are well sustained and greatly re- spected. We admit the impossibility. all that is excellent or desir~ rule of utility; but utility itse dinate to consolation, and of a tions that of knowledge is th nay, it is consolation itself. With these general observati in the present state of know possibly appear trite and ni we come to a more particula the work before us, a Journal one of the most respectable in supported in America, and completed its first series (if fifi a compact body of real iiifo bulletin of the progress of ex ledge in America and in EuR timony to the world, that thei ral spirits, and wise intellects this side the Atlantic, to car tion forward in the road of and true enlightenment. A person unaccustomed to casually taking up a numb journal, would probably fin disappointedwould even ~ee bility of reaping any good fr opens, perhaps, on an analyt nures, an account of a newly. metal, or a table of the in These are rather dry topics, ai * The American Journal of Science and Arts. Conducted hy Professors and B. Silliman, Jr., and James D. Dana. Second Series. No. 8. March New Haven. 82 Sillirncens American Journal. influence upon stocks or the tariff ;to a man familiar with science, on the con- trary, or even hut slightly initiate(l in it, (an initiation easily attained,) nothing could be more attractive. Say, for example, that he is an agricul- turist, either by necessity or by choice; he finds it very important to his happi- ness (supposing always that he is a man of intelli~ence), to know the reason why his fish manure injured one field and benefited another; with a knowledge of the cause, he changes his plan, and in- stea~l of a jud~ment of Providence, finds only a judgment of nature, against him- self and his neighbors ; which conduces as much to charity as to prosperity. Or, let him be a merchant, and an owner of ships; the trade winds nd the hurricanes are matters of great interest to him, though all his knowledge he un- able to prevent them. As invalids are curious to know the history and nature of the ilisease which afflicts them, he will donhtless find a reasonable pleasure in tracing thd laws and courses of the xvinds that plague him. Here, as in other instances, the plea- sure is not immediately joined with the utility of knowledge; but this separation must he attributed to the imperfection of the knowledge itself; for we know that a complete science of any business en- sures perfect success in the pursuit of it. Political economists have never been able to coml)lete their science, or to rea- der it immediately useful-the most. they have attained has been to destroy certain antiquated prejudices. The difficulty with them lies in their neglect of moral causesor, more properly, in their ina- bility to anticipate or express them. But in those sciences which more immedi- ately affect us, in chemistry, agriculture, astronomy and the useful arts, moral causes have no influence all is within he grasp and under the eye of experi- ment and observation. Experience is able to perfect itself and triumph over all obstacles. Nor is it less desirable iii the view of general enlightenment and education that works of the description of this journal should be freely circulated. The advances of a nation in numbers and wealth are but an advance toward barbarism and corruption, unless the in- struments of knowledge keep pace with the numb~rs and the means. But this is a worn out topic. YVe must act more and talk less, or more to the purpose. The publisher of a good chemistry, or scientific class more for the cause of liberty a enment than the loudest declai gress and the spirit of the age moves our astonishment, the gratitude and respect. The noisy reputation, the other con benefit on his country. The second series of the Jou gives us an opportunity for general remarks, appears wit~ tion of a valuable name to ti department, and a better atte miscellany and bulletin of formation. With the greatest respect fc ment and experience of the would suggest to them, as xv readers, and in a measure de them for our small hut precic scientific information, a more turn to the first PrinciPles an facts of science, whether in summaries, series, monograph retical discussions. By these ral reader may be rapidly an formed, and the body and sp department, as a whole, be and kept to0ether. Localli~ discussions, minute analyses synonymy, and mathematica however necessary and admir. place, are necessarily tedio profitable to the general read always beneficial to the scieni What, for example, coil agreeable or profitable to the even to the general reader, i science, than the paper in number on the causes of th of volcanic chains, in which resolves for us a vast and di lem, shoxving easily and xvitb simplicity, the effects of the g ing of the earths crust; or by the same hand, which c volcanoes in the noon, stud man maps, with those of the Si ands, and identifies their form ter? Thus, the diligent indusi man observer is converted ti use by the quick brain of an A van, who knows how to uni tion with theory. Or what more curious inf the intelligent farmer, or flat this history of the seventeen where we read that a grub h the egg of that insect, after proper growth, precipitates 1847.] Sdhrn~in8 American Journal. tarily from the tree where it fed, and en- tering the ground in the manner of a mole, remains there for the extraordinary period of seventeen years, when they come to the surface, in panoply, and make the woods resound with their my- ria(J murmurs. Here, too, is a paper on the mounds of the West, the monuments of the extinct races: mounds of sacrifice, of burial, of commemoration. Here, too, is an explanation of the fairy rings of pastures, the first which we remember to have seen, and true up- on the face of it. But what need of dwelling upon par- ticulars; we can only repeat, that the true end of science is enlightenment; an enlightenment which defends us against fear, and places our prosperity, as far as the Creator will permit it, in our own hands. Bnt the true means of this en- lightenment lies more ahout the heart, and simple elements, of things. The learned and the scientific wander too easily into the hyways and nooks of knowledge, and while they linger there a~musing themselves with minuter mat- ters, the world moves on and forgets them. The fiftieth volume of this Journal, completes the first series, and is the In- dex volume of the whole. This has been prepared with the greatest lahor and care, and presents a vast amount of the most valuable and interesting matter. In the very full preface to this volume, we find a history of the undertaking and of the motives which led to it. As a piece of scientific history it willalways he inter- esting and important, as marking the pro- gress of science in this country, and showing the disinterested energy of its patrons and supporters. The work it appears was never profitable, often an expense to its originator, and carried on by him rather from the honorable mo- tives of patriotism than for any hope of profit. That it should have become a means of the greatest influence and re- spectability to the projector himself, and to the venerable institution with which he is connected, was to be expected; that it has more than any other periodical served the cause of enlightenment and progress, is an opinion which we are very willing to rest upon our own expe- rience and observation. Coming in an- other generation we have felt I of the labors of those who w us. A few words in regard to and spirit of the work may n interesting or inappropriate. This Journal is intended F the circle of the Physical Scie their applications to the arts every useful purpose.* T signed for original American cations; it will also contain relations from Foreign Jout notices of the progress of Scien. countries. It is also within to receive communications 0 Sculpture, Engraving, Paint generally on the fine and liber as useful arts. Notices, and Analyses of new Scienti and of new inventions, and tions of Patents. Bibliogra Obituary notices of Scientific & c. Communications are rc solicited from men of Science, men versed in the practical art~ In every enlightened con illustrious for talent, worth a ledge, are ardently engaged in the boundaries of Natural Sc? the history of their labors an ries is communicated to the wc through the medium of Scie nals. The necessity for such has thus become generally They are the heralds of sci proclaim its toils and its ach~ they demonstrate its intimate as well with the comfort as w tellectual and moral improvern species; and they often proc enviable honors and substanti~ In England, the interests have been for a series of yef promoted by the excellent Tillock and Nicholson; and f of the latter, the scientific been fully compensated by P sons Annals of Philosophy, ~ Journal of Science and Arts in London. In France, the Annale de de Physique, the Journal des Journal de Physique, & c., ha~ joyed a high and deserved Indeed there are few count rope which do not produce so publications. * Preface to Index volume, p. v. VOL. VINO. I. 6 Ibid., p. vi. 84 The Age is Revolutionary. From these sources our country reaps an abundant harvest of informa- tion. But can we do nothing in return ? Among the cultivators of science among ourselves, and who are now a rapidly increasing number, are persons distinguished for their capacity and at- tainments, and amongst them there is an evident disposition toward a concentra- tion of effort. Is it not, therefore, desirable, to furnish some rallying point, some object sufficiently interesting to be nurtured by common efforts, and thus to become the basis of an enduring common interest? To produce these efforts an this interest, nothing perhn~ than a Scientific Journal. By such arguments, who his country, and sympathiz highest interests can fail to h nay, to he convinced! The honor of the country ed in the prosperity of its offspring, for this journal is ways been a strictly natior much so, as strictly so, as I tion itself. It belongs no those who read and underst~ science, but to all who enlightenment and national THE AGE IS REVOLUTIONARY. A person, reported to he one of great thers Reform to the pu intellect and learning, is said to have characterized by the foundi declared in a lecture of his on the re- quisition and of the Libert volutionary spirit of the age, that this tant Germany at its begin age might he characterized,distin- Bible Societies and Santafed guished from all previous ages,as re- at its close: the first of th~ volutionary, and marked everywhere by the extension of peace a spirit of discord. among all nations, the othe It is not difficult in this country, or in cret and open massacre ar any other, to persuade a promiscuous au- all who profess not the pap dience, brought together by curiosity and An age of such limits, b~ wonder, of ones great intellect and learn- minated by such a pair of in ing; especially in that field of phantasy singularly matched against and self-delusion called Philosophy of an age worth study, and n History. We may therefore safely als for very profound Phi pass over the reporters addition, of History. great intellect and learning, as touch- Or second, the word Age ing neither here nor there upon the to signify the 19th century; matter in hand; nay, if it is insisted on, ed by the triumph of the I we may admit it, with the reservation fall of Napoleon; the divisi that great intellect and learning may the subjugation, death or e be even in the realm of confusion, and free spirits of Italy; the cc may be joined with a total want of p0- Afghans; the attempts of F utica1 tact, and a profound ignorance of certain harmless South Sr the spirit of the age, be that spirit as the ravage and seizure of active or passive as it will, subjugation of the French Before admitting the proposition, that custom despotism; the a this age is revolutionary, and denying as the liberties of Cracow we mean to deny, that it is marked by a France and Spain; a war spirit of discord, it may be well to make undertaken by the United some brief inquiry into the meaning of Mexico; the quiet of the words Age, Spirit, and Re- the growing power 6f volution : precision in these particulars Autocrat; the bastions c being convenient, if not momentous. successful machinations ot The word Age seems to have several despotism thinking itself meanings, as for instance, when it signi- and liberty seeming di fies a space of three centuries from Lu- low! This is the second a

"The Age is Revolutionary" 84-87

84 The Age is Revolutionary. From these sources our country reaps an abundant harvest of informa- tion. But can we do nothing in return ? Among the cultivators of science among ourselves, and who are now a rapidly increasing number, are persons distinguished for their capacity and at- tainments, and amongst them there is an evident disposition toward a concentra- tion of effort. Is it not, therefore, desirable, to furnish some rallying point, some object sufficiently interesting to be nurtured by common efforts, and thus to become the basis of an enduring common interest? To produce these efforts an this interest, nothing perhn~ than a Scientific Journal. By such arguments, who his country, and sympathiz highest interests can fail to h nay, to he convinced! The honor of the country ed in the prosperity of its offspring, for this journal is ways been a strictly natior much so, as strictly so, as I tion itself. It belongs no those who read and underst~ science, but to all who enlightenment and national THE AGE IS REVOLUTIONARY. A person, reported to he one of great thers Reform to the pu intellect and learning, is said to have characterized by the foundi declared in a lecture of his on the re- quisition and of the Libert volutionary spirit of the age, that this tant Germany at its begin age might he characterized,distin- Bible Societies and Santafed guished from all previous ages,as re- at its close: the first of th~ volutionary, and marked everywhere by the extension of peace a spirit of discord. among all nations, the othe It is not difficult in this country, or in cret and open massacre ar any other, to persuade a promiscuous au- all who profess not the pap dience, brought together by curiosity and An age of such limits, b~ wonder, of ones great intellect and learn- minated by such a pair of in ing; especially in that field of phantasy singularly matched against and self-delusion called Philosophy of an age worth study, and n History. We may therefore safely als for very profound Phi pass over the reporters addition, of History. great intellect and learning, as touch- Or second, the word Age ing neither here nor there upon the to signify the 19th century; matter in hand; nay, if it is insisted on, ed by the triumph of the I we may admit it, with the reservation fall of Napoleon; the divisi that great intellect and learning may the subjugation, death or e be even in the realm of confusion, and free spirits of Italy; the cc may be joined with a total want of p0- Afghans; the attempts of F utica1 tact, and a profound ignorance of certain harmless South Sr the spirit of the age, be that spirit as the ravage and seizure of active or passive as it will, subjugation of the French Before admitting the proposition, that custom despotism; the a this age is revolutionary, and denying as the liberties of Cracow we mean to deny, that it is marked by a France and Spain; a war spirit of discord, it may be well to make undertaken by the United some brief inquiry into the meaning of Mexico; the quiet of the words Age, Spirit, and Re- the growing power 6f volution : precision in these particulars Autocrat; the bastions c being convenient, if not momentous. successful machinations ot The word Age seems to have several despotism thinking itself meanings, as for instance, when it signi- and liberty seeming di fies a space of three centuries from Lu- low! This is the second a 1847.J The Age is Revolutionary. we may take the word Age; a very forc- ible sense. In this latter sense, far from being in- spired with discord, or a spirit of revolu- tion, this age seems to us quiet and or- derly. In the third sense of the word Age, by which it is restricted to the last twenty years or thereabout, and to the develop- ment of certain forms of opinion which show more favor to individual liberty than is agreeable to learned advocates of implicit obedience,in the use of this third sense we must keep within limits and he more specific: we must admit that this Age is peculiarly revolutiona- ry; subject to a revolution of opinion, slow, gradual, profound, in the very heart of civilized humanity, strengthening and spreading among the peopie the conviction of a truth which it was once the privilege of philosophers to. knowthat obedience to the Law is no- thing until the Law itself be goodand that forthis reason law itself musthe left open to m~ontinual reformation, and soci- ety to a slow hut continual revolution about its centre ;that this revolution and reformation, like the conduct of a wise mans life, must be from instant to instant, from day to day, from year to year ;remoulding all that becomes shapeless or antiquated, replacing all that falls to decay; not only in the fami- ly, in the state and in private conduct, hut even in the sacred edifice of Reli- gion; stripping away its cruelties, its grossnesses and its superstitions, purify- ing it by a return to first principles, and filling out the original designa design so vast it must embrace all human knowledge, all science, all philosophy, all experience. This continual reforma- tion, and slow revolution of all the in- stitutions of society about their centres or in another metaphor, this completing of the great order of reason, in the plan of the social edifices of Manners, State, and Religion, has been named, by some, conservatism; but it is rather an adhe- rence to the first principles and a carry- ing out of the original design of Chris- tian society than an obstinate and igno- rant conservation of errors and abuses. We may venture to characterize this ~ge, therefore, not as an age of discord and mutiny, hut as an age fully awak- ened to a conviction that obedience to a devil is no virtue ; and that, therefore, obedience in the abstract is no virtue ; in a word, that whatever be said of chil dren, mature men must know they worship, and what laws As a natural consequence, rational inquiry has put the. ble part of mankind upon im the spirit and origin of all inst In the state it is discovere great evils and mutinies spriri~ hitrary power, exercised by or by the multitude. Under this conviction italy to have a government of law tutioncost what it will. .1 tried implicit obedience some mad anarchy at other times, them both wanting. Prussia, acting under the sa~ tion, has set aside the principk cit obedience for that of a rat dience, which knows what it Prussia has sworn to have a c cost what it may. France has secured herself tion subject to perpetual amew Englaad is perpetually mod forming, and revolutionizing f tution, with reference to the gui whole. The Catholic Church and churches, let them express ror they please, have found kick against the goads; they m and be revolutionized ;--they rapidly recurring to first pun the love of mere existence. Rome, the Eternal Bigot,. selfhas sworn to have a co- and a government of laws; h experiment of one thousand principle of irrational obedien%~c tried by her and found to he ar If the meaning of the wo~ now sufficiently clear, that of comes next in order. A Spirit surely is something like Liberty and Law. Spirits united with God wills, it is said ; those which ii united, have wills enslaved. erty in the state is, therefor. glorious principle, being a pro vine favor. Now we are bound to say think that no age has ever stronger proofs of Divine fa~. Spirit, for no age ever showed and more universal respect for First Principle of the Soul, thr of the Will. But there is everywhere, s mutinous spirit, a spirit of 86 The Age is Revolutionary. No, that is not so. On the contrary, there is rather a spirit of union of one sort among the sovereigns, and of union of another sort among the people. The rulers were never so unanimousthe people were never less divided. The people of Italy, for example, have come for the first time since the extinction of the great Roman Empire to feel them- selves a peoplea nationand agree most perfectly in hating their Austrian tyrants, and hoping for an advent of lib- erty and a Free Constitution; whereas, heretofore they have always been at war among themselves, kept in a perpetual broil by the intrigues of the priests, the Pope, and the Princes: for which read the history of Italy possim. The people of Ireland, too, are at length beginning to feel themselves a na- tion, and agree most surprisingly in many aspirations; hut, until very lately, nothing of the kind was looked for, and nothing heard of from that quarter, but narrow provincial jealousies and civil dissenr~ion. The people of Prussia, instead of divi- sions, discords and petty discontent, have come to an almost unanimous opinion that they must have a Constitution. Where- as, heretofore, they were chiefly busy with their kings in the wars of Europe or of Europes kings. In Russia we henr only of consolida- tion, and making of many nations into an empire; there, too, consolidation and harmony is the theme. In China, the people are faithful to their government; they have no Jesuits to foment divisions. In Afghanistan there is a wonderful unanimity in hatred of foreign oppression. In Algiers the number of the traitors and discontents is few; all that dare, unite against the common tyrant. Spain is indeed, like South America, in a terrible broilthey have not reduced their princes and priests sufficientlybut there is hope even for Spain. Belgium and Holland are diligent in business; and look principally to stocks, railroads, manufactures, and the like, for contentment; they are not, in- deed never were, a revolutionary people. A Spanish Duke of Alva was needed, with horrid persecutions, to make them revolt; still, it is hy no means certain that a sharp application of the pincers of St. Dominic, and the bridle of Loyola, might not throw them all into confusion again, little as they love revolutions. Sweden is quiet, apparent1 in meditation. Poland is very quiet indee Austria shows no restlessnc ering for revolution. In Lu and in Voltaires, she show deal of uneasifless. The cities of the Rhine, ar of Northern Germany, are chandising or studying, or feeble movement against tL whereas, up to the present history teems with reformati doms, and foreign or civil wa Betwixt the people of the ~ people of the Old World the up not hatred and a ~var, b mr sympathy and unanimit Italy, and Poland, send all hither to make common cans The Kirk of Scotland wit nimity retires from its depen government. The people of Rome, witi their head, with one voice c constitution and to have theirh The people of France never less able or less willir in civil war than at present. to he of one mind; feel them one nation; yet do not ki what to think of their whether it dishonors them, c England is just now agrc badness of corn-laws, and cordingly abolished. Then, if we look at g there seems to be a charmi spirit among the sovereigns instead of fomenting jea1 getting together by the ears and are given in marriage presents to each other, an holy alliances; they are bec mothers and nursing fathers pIe. Their hope and pride people, whom as an infant bands,which they humorous tions, Spielbergs, and Iron St look upon with pride, lon~ trembling pleasure for the shall rise into manhood and lieve its dear parents of charge. To this end they e give it all manner of instr- railroads, books, free-pre~s, but to cry and stamp a little it wants. Surdly, so amiable and u age cannot be called revolu were unjust. 1S47.] Napoleon at St. helena. What is a revolution? A change in opinions, manners, constitutions, partial or complete. We are oppressed, and we violently cast off our oppressors; we lie grovelling in ignorance, and demand schools; we are robbed by monopolies, and demand that there be no monopolies; we are starving for bread and demand the free admission of grain; we are ruined by foreign competition and must have our ports closed against it; these are revolu- tions, or reformations, or what you will, but call them by the worst name that bigotry and tyranny can invent, they are, nevertheless, the safeguards, the evi- dences, and the vital acts of liberty, not of that miserable political sbam which is called liberty, the being equally dealt with by bad laws,but of that inherent and inde- feasible freedom lodged in every true mans breast, which will not let him rest until he is responsible to none but his Maker for the free acts of his body and his reason. Indeed, it cannot be denied that this age is revolutionaryso have been all ages, or at least all that men respect. But to go no farther back, let us begin with that great Israelitish Revolution, when the chosen race of God rose against the priests of Egypt, and puritanically marched into the wilderness, led by the Most High. A little farther and we light upon other revolutions in the history of that misguided people, who, perpetually Binking into apathy, under a priesthood leaning to idolatry, were roused to revo lution and massacre, and the of temples and high places, by of a Samuel, an Isaiah, or a III what shall we say to that gran progresses, or revolutions, the tion of Christianity, which cam not peace, but a sword, a power of the word, parents against children, and children rents,, and nations crushed ann under foot for the long pen centuries in that great rev epoch of humanity? Advanc the crusades; the whole Chris against the whole Mahomeda centuries also. Revolution upon revolution tory of man is a history of r~ and of progress, even to our ours are petty and ridiculous with those of the earlier ages. The battle of life is never to be fought; through the nigi chief collects, the evils have rushed inarid must be swep hurled hack to whence they c~ it has now come to this, that long periods of lethargy and servance, alternating with fun gles to break the toils thrown our sleep, we keep a constant and consider ourselves as un ceaseless reformation and revol The price of Liberty is perp lance. NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA. THE RUMOUR OF AN ATTEMPTED RESCUE IN 1818. As anything connected with the life and times of this great and extraordinary man is interesting to the public, and es- pecially to Frenchmen, it is proposed to record the facts which gave rise to the above vague report. They were derived from the lips of a lamented officer now no more; and although some slight allu- sion to them may have been made in the newspapers,of the day, it is believed they were never given to the public in a de- tailed or authentic form. In doing so now, we shall have to introduce them by some collateral circumstances, interesting in themselves and so closely connected with the subject, that they cannot well be dispensed with. But the o are strictly true, and discardi tempts at fiction founded u for which the writer has neithc talent, he procee(ls at once t themselves, and will confine the plain and simple yet highi ing tale which he so freque related by his lamented frie noble spirit took its flu, ht frc checkered scene more th~~ years ago. It must be fresh in the recc most of our readers that abo of the termination of the last Great Britain, and of the peace

Napoleon at St. Helena. The Rumor of an Attempted Rescue in 1818 87-93

1S47.] Napoleon at St. helena. What is a revolution? A change in opinions, manners, constitutions, partial or complete. We are oppressed, and we violently cast off our oppressors; we lie grovelling in ignorance, and demand schools; we are robbed by monopolies, and demand that there be no monopolies; we are starving for bread and demand the free admission of grain; we are ruined by foreign competition and must have our ports closed against it; these are revolu- tions, or reformations, or what you will, but call them by the worst name that bigotry and tyranny can invent, they are, nevertheless, the safeguards, the evi- dences, and the vital acts of liberty, not of that miserable political sbam which is called liberty, the being equally dealt with by bad laws,but of that inherent and inde- feasible freedom lodged in every true mans breast, which will not let him rest until he is responsible to none but his Maker for the free acts of his body and his reason. Indeed, it cannot be denied that this age is revolutionaryso have been all ages, or at least all that men respect. But to go no farther back, let us begin with that great Israelitish Revolution, when the chosen race of God rose against the priests of Egypt, and puritanically marched into the wilderness, led by the Most High. A little farther and we light upon other revolutions in the history of that misguided people, who, perpetually Binking into apathy, under a priesthood leaning to idolatry, were roused to revo lution and massacre, and the of temples and high places, by of a Samuel, an Isaiah, or a III what shall we say to that gran progresses, or revolutions, the tion of Christianity, which cam not peace, but a sword, a power of the word, parents against children, and children rents,, and nations crushed ann under foot for the long pen centuries in that great rev epoch of humanity? Advanc the crusades; the whole Chris against the whole Mahomeda centuries also. Revolution upon revolution tory of man is a history of r~ and of progress, even to our ours are petty and ridiculous with those of the earlier ages. The battle of life is never to be fought; through the nigi chief collects, the evils have rushed inarid must be swep hurled hack to whence they c~ it has now come to this, that long periods of lethargy and servance, alternating with fun gles to break the toils thrown our sleep, we keep a constant and consider ourselves as un ceaseless reformation and revol The price of Liberty is perp lance. NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA. THE RUMOUR OF AN ATTEMPTED RESCUE IN 1818. As anything connected with the life and times of this great and extraordinary man is interesting to the public, and es- pecially to Frenchmen, it is proposed to record the facts which gave rise to the above vague report. They were derived from the lips of a lamented officer now no more; and although some slight allu- sion to them may have been made in the newspapers,of the day, it is believed they were never given to the public in a de- tailed or authentic form. In doing so now, we shall have to introduce them by some collateral circumstances, interesting in themselves and so closely connected with the subject, that they cannot well be dispensed with. But the o are strictly true, and discardi tempts at fiction founded u for which the writer has neithc talent, he procee(ls at once t themselves, and will confine the plain and simple yet highi ing tale which he so freque related by his lamented frie noble spirit took its flu, ht frc checkered scene more th~~ years ago. It must be fresh in the recc most of our readers that abo of the termination of the last Great Britain, and of the peace 88 Napoleon at Si. Helena. and the confinement of Napoleon at St. Helena by the Holy Alliance, the South American colonies were struggling for their Independence, in which struggle, thousands of our brave officers of the late war felt the deepest sympathy. Among the most prominent of the states thus struggling for liberty was Buenos Ayres; and it is well known that many of our private armed ships, rendered by the peace almost valueless as merchantmen, were sent out there for sale, and the young Republic was having several constructed in the ports of the United States, the largest and most important of which was one at Baltimore, pierced for forty-four guns, and at that time believ- ed to be the most splendid frigate ever built in this country. This fine ship, whose neutral name was Clifton, was placed under the command of Captain Clayton of Balti- more, (the present worthy old commo- dore,) and no sooner was it known that 8he would take, passage free, such Ame- rican gentlemen of character and stand- ing as were desirous of receiving com- missions in the Buenos Ayrean Navy on their arrival there, than hundreds of our gallant officers who had been thrown out of commissions by the peace, flock- ed to Baltimore, and some fifty or more took passage in the Clifton. On the arrival of the ship at Buenos Ayres, her armament being already in her lower hold, she was soon made ship-shape, and the requisite number of officers put in commission, among whom was my friend Capt. 5, from whom these facts were derived, and a son of an emi- nent jurist of New York, the late Br Ln. This splendid ship of war unfortunately was lost on her first cruise on her way to Yalparaiso, and with her perished the high hopes of many of her brave officers who were seeking fame in the navy of the new republic. The most of them found their way hack to the United States; a few, however, were de- termined to push their fortunes further. On their return to Buenos Ayres, they found among the vessels there in port for sale, the beautiful New York clip- per brig , which had run with such remarkable success and eclat as a letter- of-marque between New York and France during the war, and had made so much money for her enterprising owners, the then firm of P. & I-I. This brig, mainly through the influence and libe- rality of Don de Forest, afterwards Con- sul-General to the United long a resident of New H bought by the Buenos Ayrc ment and put in commissior name of Chacahuco, moun guns, with a full complimeni officers, chiefly American, t crew composed however of s~ most all nations. The write this late day recollect the ni the officers as mentioned by nor is he certain that that o mander was R. But his 5 was second in comman York gentleman before allu captain of marines, and Doct or late of Florida was the so friend always spoke of of the Chacabuco with ness and affection, and exceedingly regrets that ti have escaped his memory, less many of them survive furnish very interesting this narrative of the first u vessel whose name might h largely in the history of the I fortunate ship which rescue rock in the ocean the mio eral of the age. Never was a ship better than the Chacabuco, and r. gallant officers more intent on enemy and at the same tim fame: she was what sailors ca craft, and sailed like the only drawback on the high happiness of her officers wa~ sional and increasing illness o commander. That gentleman an officer in the American nay on some former occasion sever. ed in the head, and at times w indisposed as to almost amoun ty. The anxiety and excitew ting out the Chacabuco broug currence of his complaint soo ting to sea, and it became app~ that the first Lieutenant (whi called Capt. Sbut whom I designate as Lient. 5) inus point of fact the commander for In about thirty days she prize from Calcutta, and ft found on board learned that and valuable letters-of-marqu. longing to the Royal East Jndi; of Spain were soon to sail for officers of the prize confirmed I and added that they each had ca ed at half a million or morew 1847] Napoleon at St. helena. ly armed and fully mannedthat one of them was frigate built, and was formerly the old American frigate the Warren, sold out of the service after the peace of 83that they would sail in company for mutual protection, and would touch at St. Helena for water, & c. Here, then, was a fine opportunity for the Chacabuco to distinguish herself and win golden opinions and golden prizes at the same time, and she lost no time in bracing up for St. Lielena, confident that with favor- able winds she might reach there some ten or twelve days before the heavy ships in question. I need not speak of St. He- lena, nor of the strong and vigilant force stationed there by the British govern- ment to guard safely the worlds pri- soner, nor need I describe the harbor of Jamestown and the only accessible land- ing-placethey were well protected by the natural defences and a ship of the line; but there was another place just round the promontory where it was pos- sible a landing might be effected in calm weather, and at this place Sir Hudson Lowe had stationed an eighteen gun- brig. The cruising ground of this brig was excluded from sight at the port of Jamestown by the high point of land just mentioned, and once during every day she sailed far enough out to sea to be seen by the admiral and fire a gun, which was answered by his ship, and thus the watchful sentinel daily reported Alls well :but from Longwood the brig was always in sight. When the Chacabuco reached St. Hele- na, disguised as a merchantman, she sent her boat on shore under a pretence of meeting letters and orders, but in fact to ascertain whether the letters-of-marque had gone past, and to their great joy it was found they had not: returning to the ship, they put to sea for that night, to determine what station to take as most likely to. intercept them; a station near the cruising ground of the gun brig was indeed the most proper and almost the only one, being directly in the track of ships approaching the island from India: they therefore determined to take that station and avoid the brig. The next day, in standing in-shore, they were sur- prised to find that the English gun-brig xesembled the Chacabuco so much in size and rig and general appearance, that the boatswain jocosely reported her a twin-sister, and it was this remarka- ble coincidence of appearance, even to the darker color of her fore-topsail, which came so near being the means of rescuing the prisoner, as w- sently see. When the Chacabuco Ca certain distance, the gun-bri~ agun and give chase; the diately tacked ship and stc After the gun-brig reached a tance in the offing, she again stood in. This was repeal days, and the Chacabuco thus the extent of the brigs cruis and took due notice of her Sti each day beyond the I)romontc to the windward, and firing gun. Thus matters continue two weeks, the Chacabuco good look-out for the expe laden ships, and the Engli& forming her daily round of duty. Occasionally, the Chaca stretch well to the windward night; and it was on one of sions that, soon after night I there arose one of those sudd~ lent storms which rage witi force and fury for a few hour almost as suddenly subside. cabuco labored hard; and so an her officers for her safety, that it was proposed to throw sc guns overboard. The fury o was driving her near the might be far enough off shore should she not be, every soul ish. But before day came tc them their imminent danger, sea announced to their anxi~ that they had passed it, and w an almost sudden abatement ot left them in comparative safi light came, and with it a cleai sky and bright sun, but the costa brig was gonewhetf bottom or far to the leeward then be decided; from the s and violence of the storm it she had foundered and gone d her gallant crew; but soon alt. while the Chacabuco was lyi becalmed within a few leagr shore, repairing the damage of and rigging, it occurred to S to hoist the English flag sonate the English brig. Witi this instance, at leastto deci act; and in an instant the c given, and in another the Brit. was flying at her peak, and to a ance she was the veritable wc and well-armed ship of his Ma The day was becoming more 90 fair and lovely, and about twelve oclock Napoleon was seen taking his accus- tomed ride on horseback, accompanied by a friend or two, and followed by a small guard of soldiers in glittering uniform, takingthe usual road or path lending from Longwood to the shore, near where, as before said, a landing possibly might be effected, and hardly a league from the Chacabuco. While reconnoitering the party with a spy-glass, it flashed across the mind of Lieutenant S that Bona- parte could at that moment be rescued! The thought thrilled through his gener- ous soul, and aroused his ambition for the noble deed. in an instant he was at the side of the commander (who, it ought to have been said before, had been some time confined to the cabin with a recur- rence of the malady which was fast wasting his life), and relating in the briefest possible manner the absence of the gun-brig, the position of the Chaca- buco and of the party on shore, some five or six miles from any land force to oppose -his design, and suggesting the attempt of rescue. The commander, who, if in health, would have gloried in the attempt, merely gave his assent, but with that unwonted indifference and uncon- cern which induced Lieutenant S, on reaching the quarter-deck again, to call his officers together, who, almost unanimously, and with a thrilling re- sponse, seconded him. One, however (not an American), suggested doubts The captain, he said, is sickwe are daily expecting the rich prizes, & c.; but without delay the crew were heat to quarters; and, instead of giving orders to immediately man the boats and rescue Napoleon Bonaparte, Lieutenant 5 committed the fatal mistake of addressing them. Ah, fatal error! Elevated upon one of the guns of the ship, with his eye alternately on Bonaparte and on his crew, who were gradually taking their respective stations on deck, he hardly waited for the whole to assemble, his own noble heart beating high with spi- rit-stirring and generous impulses and perilous enterprise: never for a moment doubting that the crew he was about to address would respond with one long and hearty huzza, what was his aston- ishment and indignation, when the only response was a silent pause! But in that fatal pause was suspended the peace of Europeperhaps, of the world! In that one short pause hung the life and destinies of the great and mighty man who that moment was lookin~ them a state prisonerknown almost all the nations of th wholly unconscious that the rescue him lay within a lea~ ownarm! * * * That pause continued for minute; so utterly astonishe~ founded was Lieutenant S - naturally believed that the feel ry heart was in unison with that he was not the first to br. lence. In a few moments th foreigner,) who had before mi; exclaimed, Whats that to u a rich prize ship, thus revel astounded Lieutenant S - chief officers a state of insu1 little dreamt of, amounting al volt and mutiny! and his gem instead of instantly ordering be manned for the rescue, ma fatal mistake in admitting hi~ ~arley. * * * * In that flew, and with it departed fore ly, and apparently a providen tunity of rescuing a hero fro minious bondage! But froii silence and sinister looks of half his crew, and the halt but half-uttered threat of a leaders, that if we separat rate forever, thereby intima the boats should leave the shi might leave the boats, it x~ apparent, nay, painfully certa noble enterprise must be For more than half an hour tunity lasted. Some secret s to bind Napoleon to the spot he and the party proceeded them along the coast, but no1 out of sight, his face was to ance turned most of the time ocean and the brig, so that a signal would have attracted h She was not the English go supposed her to be, but the il cabuco. There she lay with ly crew of all nations, ready strong in fight, (as the seq not, however, for honor and for filthy lucre. Who candescribe the feeli. tenant Sand his bravepi can realize the intensity of pointment when the attemp was thus so painfully and abandoned, and the order gi crew to resume their routir Oh, the fatal error of app Napokon at St. Ilekna. 1847.] Napokon at & . Helena. reason or patriotism of a mixed crew of a man-of-war I was an expression often used by my friend when relating this ex- citing story. Had he given the order to man the boats for the rescue, leading the way himself as he intended, it had been done, and the rescue propably accom- plished, long before the more sordid part of his crew, attracted and excited, at the moment, by the splendor and importance of the achievement, would have found time to count the cost, or exclaim, (as they did,) You will get all the honor, and ue, poor devils, will lose the prizes. Had he, even after the pause and parley with the crew, sprung, sword in hand, amongst the disaffected and arrested them, as he was on the point of doing, he still might have accomplished the rescue, but he did not. The remark of one of them that their commander had not ordered them to catch soldiers, forcibly remind- ed him that he was only second in au- thority, and his noble commander was too ill. and too unconscious, to take any interest in what was passing on deck, or to give an order if he were brought there an(l when Lieutenant 5 saw Napole- on on his return home pause, when near- ly opposite the brig, and seemingly take a last, and, he could imagine, reproachful look, his heart sank within him,andhe de- scended to his cabin with ardent and agi- tated feelings, and a prostration of spir- its, not to be described. For several hours he remained below under the greatest excitementon the one hafd, in- dignant at the dastardly conduct of his crew, and on the other a lingering hope that something might yet transpire to en- able him to accomplish what he would at that moment have risked a dozen lives to accomplish; alternately revolving the chances that the British gun-brig (for whose crew in the dawn of morning he had felt and expressed the liveliest sym- pathy) had gone to the bottom, and there- fore that his disguise would not for some days be detected, and the hope that dur- ing the day his crew, either through fear, or by strong inducements and hopes of large rewards, might join in and con- sent the next morning that Bonaparte should take his ride; alternating, I say, between hope and despair, he had al- most wished the sea to overwhelm his ship and end his anxiety, when he was startled by the cry of Sail, ho ! which brought him to the deck almost at a sin- gle bound, and, to his utter dismay, the re-appearance of the gun-brig in the offing, regaining her cruising to flight the last vestige of who had once had a most opportunity, should ever h to attempt to rescue the gi and with a sinking heart he to his disappointed and disto to make sail seaward, thus approaching cruiser, who in great alarm, commenced guns, and made all the sail condition would admit. T1 had hardly gained an offing mirals ship was seen sta the harbor prepared for at was no doubt this affair that the reports which reached Lowe, and even Napoleons attempt bad been made to re~ The Chacabuco had str& yond the ken of the alarm was left almost becalmed. lay, to all appearance as ocean on whose quiet hoe floating, which contrasted sz~ perturbed feelings of her tense disappointmentcbi ing of culpabilitya self-a. of duty unperformed, engen~ in their hearts towards the cer and disaffected portion which it had taken but little desperation: and the crew, whom had now sided with ed, although performing and in sullen silence their II: duty, it was but too appareri the influence of more than - ingsa half-smothered thr the way of a joke, about diers,the self-condemned features of the foreign officc the more than doubtful vi or four leading tarsall s1 guage stronger than words, was under them, which the additional insubordination o~ ignite into the deadliest con tery. it was not till the that Lieut. 5 thought it consult his officers, nor was willing to alarm his fast mander, but he said enoug~ his chief officers to intimatc necessity for an informal consultation, and the captai~ young Ln (who had tb whole affair behaved most n pating with Lieut. 5 in vid efithusiasm for the atten had noticed enough to induc 92 Napoleon at Si. helena. well to the condition of his department. From this state of ai).xiety, doubt, and danger, they happily were relieved in the afternoon of the second day by the always cheerful and exciting cry of Sail ho ! and in a few hours they spoke and hoarded the American ship from Manilla, from whom they learnt that one of the Spanish ships was disabled and undergoing long repairs at Maniiia, and the other they had parted company with only a few days before; she intending to proceed direct to Cadiz, without calling at St. Helena. Thus, then, was a new motive of ac- tion at once brought into exercise on board the self-condemned Chacabuco, in which both officers and crew seemed glad to participate a change came oer the spirit of their dreamsall was life and bustle. It was almost certain that their clipper brig could reach Cadiz before her expected prizeperhaps fall in with her on the way, and when the order was given to make all sail for Ca- diz, it w~is obeyed with that alacrity and hearty good xviii, which again spoke louder than words, that with the mixed crew of the Chacabuco, gold had a thousand more charms than honor. Ev- ery sail was spread to the breeze, and the ship bounded gaily over the ocean :if relief from very great anxiety had lighted up the faces of her officers, so had the hope of regaining the confidence of their officers and of capturing a noble prize, swept away from the brawny cheeks of her motley crew every vestige of dis- contentcheerily they manned the ropes and loudly they praised the sailing quali- ties of their darling craft Their march was on the mountain wave, Their home was on the deep and while the face of every jolly tar gus- iened with gladness and hope, their ea- gerness and anxiety to overtake the letter- of-marque gave a certain pledge that they would now do their whole duty. And the opportunity was very soon af- forded them, for on their arrival off Cadiz they ascertained that they were in ad- vance of the expected prize, and they ac- cordingly took their station to intercept and capture her. In this position the Chacabuco had re- mained, constantly prepared for action, for more than three days, when a little after dark on the fourth a sail was descri- ed bearing directly down for the port, and in a short time there was every mdi- cation of her being the large which had so long been th. their anxious and eager pursii she had by some means or oti mation of her danger, for she down under the greatest pose of canvas. The Chacabuco slow in beating to quartersr self directly in the chops of with her matches lighted, she approach of her antagonist, surprise she found all prepa fence, even to her boarding n from her size and armament that the conflict would be dr. dreadful it was. Three several timesdid the attempt to board, the last tim. main-yard, by springing into boat of the ship, which was cut away and afforded part of the means of safety till rescur action, during the whole time being nearly an hour, the steadily on her course into por ly conscious that her only saf reaching the anchorage before which was so fast diminishing wholly killed or disabled. I succeeded, and when the Ch~ luctantly gave up the fight, were nearly amidst the fleet of men in the harbor, and a slo apparently British, was unde- the scene of action. If the officers of the Chacabn disheartened at St. Helena, the in their turn felt the bitterne~ pointment in its fullest force fought like bulldogs; nearly o their number had been killed o woundedamong the former creant foreign officer; they had t on to the fight at desperate odd were in danger of being sun port, and when they gave it u~ out to sea, fortunately rescuin way from a watery grave, ti companions who had attempte and were cut down in the qu the keenest disappointment a were depicted in every face, I~ no doubt by the bitter recollect linquency of duty at St. Hek fight was a desperate one, and described and commented on diz papers of the day; and a~ the Chacabucos colors had not tinctly seen and understood, sli ported and believed to be some piratical corsair. 3847.] The Orators of France: Cormenins Portraits. Cut up and disabled to such a degree that it became necessary, on the first re- currence of heavy weather, to throw overboard most of her heavy gunsher crew thinned by death and mortal woundsit became in the minds of her officers very doubtful if the Chacabuco could reach Buenos Ayres; and in a few days it was tietermined to bear up for a port in the United States, and she finally reached Savannah with the greatest dif- ficulty, where, while waiting for orders and the means to refit, many of her offi- cers resigned, and most of her crew escaped. Her brave commander immedi- ately left for the North, where, it is be- lieved, he soon breathed his last. Lieu- tenant 5 obtained leave of absence to visit his friends residing in a seaport oa the Gulf, who induced hi up his commission; but disc arid disease soon made such r on his constitution, that, in two, he had barely health en enable him to return to his in the North, where, in A he breathed his last in the parents. The brave captain of mai Ln, returned to the fond his parents in New York; t Dr. B., became a resident Who took charge of the Cha when she sailed for Buenos writer has now no means of 2; but her arrival at Savannah: fresh in the recollection of present merchants of that pl~ THE ORATORS OF FRANCE: CORMENINS PORTB IT is singular, perhaps a little disgrace- ful, the extent, the variety of ways, with which we have contrived to exhibit our dependence on England for the literary products with which are fed, what we choose to consider, our very intellectual natures. It could not, in reason, appear strange that all good works of English production should be importedre-pub- lished, ifyon pleasewith great haste, and read with equal eagerness and de- light. To have neglected them would, in fact, have been but an evidence of little taste on our part, as well as of small reverence for that noble mother of all the enterprising Saxon race, whom it must be confessed, we ought not to forget. Nor is it matter of surprise that we have not ourselves produced a greater number of excellent books, which might have prevented the necessity of borrow- ing so freely from abroad. We are young as yet; we have had a wilderness to conquercities to buildcommerce, government, social order to establish in short, our physical interests to care for firsta remark which, though often made, is almost as true as if it were less common! But we have gone quite be- yond what was necessary in our literary indebtedness to Great Britain. not only devoured all origin workswhich was well enou~ we had always known firs were eating, or sufficiently when eatenbut we have ho English translators all our c sions of foreign authors. hardly an instance to the cot the fine French and ItaP authors, the best versions of for the most part appeared si. undertook to build up for our erature, have been made far through English translations. modern stock of continental the case is nearly as bad. scholar has rendered into A or three unattracti~e Gem never yet naturalized in Engla in truth we cannot well rem they are. All other exceptio fined to French novelsto if tion of which we should pref. claimthe discredit to o greater than the honor to 0 But what possible reason ha; for such refusal among us to this department of literary lab of being original? Scorn of The Orators of France. By Timon (Viscount de Cormenin.) Translated L of the Ne~w York Bar, from the Fourteenth Paris edition; with an Essay on tt Progress of~Frencb Revolutionary Eloquence, and the Orators of the Girondi Headley: edited by G. H. Cotton, with notes and biographical addenda. Baker & Scribrier.

The Orators of France: Cormenin's "Portraits" 93-104

3847.] The Orators of France: Cormenins Portraits. Cut up and disabled to such a degree that it became necessary, on the first re- currence of heavy weather, to throw overboard most of her heavy gunsher crew thinned by death and mortal woundsit became in the minds of her officers very doubtful if the Chacabuco could reach Buenos Ayres; and in a few days it was tietermined to bear up for a port in the United States, and she finally reached Savannah with the greatest dif- ficulty, where, while waiting for orders and the means to refit, many of her offi- cers resigned, and most of her crew escaped. Her brave commander immedi- ately left for the North, where, it is be- lieved, he soon breathed his last. Lieu- tenant 5 obtained leave of absence to visit his friends residing in a seaport oa the Gulf, who induced hi up his commission; but disc arid disease soon made such r on his constitution, that, in two, he had barely health en enable him to return to his in the North, where, in A he breathed his last in the parents. The brave captain of mai Ln, returned to the fond his parents in New York; t Dr. B., became a resident Who took charge of the Cha when she sailed for Buenos writer has now no means of 2; but her arrival at Savannah: fresh in the recollection of present merchants of that pl~ THE ORATORS OF FRANCE: CORMENINS PORTB IT is singular, perhaps a little disgrace- ful, the extent, the variety of ways, with which we have contrived to exhibit our dependence on England for the literary products with which are fed, what we choose to consider, our very intellectual natures. It could not, in reason, appear strange that all good works of English production should be importedre-pub- lished, ifyon pleasewith great haste, and read with equal eagerness and de- light. To have neglected them would, in fact, have been but an evidence of little taste on our part, as well as of small reverence for that noble mother of all the enterprising Saxon race, whom it must be confessed, we ought not to forget. Nor is it matter of surprise that we have not ourselves produced a greater number of excellent books, which might have prevented the necessity of borrow- ing so freely from abroad. We are young as yet; we have had a wilderness to conquercities to buildcommerce, government, social order to establish in short, our physical interests to care for firsta remark which, though often made, is almost as true as if it were less common! But we have gone quite be- yond what was necessary in our literary indebtedness to Great Britain. not only devoured all origin workswhich was well enou~ we had always known firs were eating, or sufficiently when eatenbut we have ho English translators all our c sions of foreign authors. hardly an instance to the cot the fine French and ItaP authors, the best versions of for the most part appeared si. undertook to build up for our erature, have been made far through English translations. modern stock of continental the case is nearly as bad. scholar has rendered into A or three unattracti~e Gem never yet naturalized in Engla in truth we cannot well rem they are. All other exceptio fined to French novelsto if tion of which we should pref. claimthe discredit to o greater than the honor to 0 But what possible reason ha; for such refusal among us to this department of literary lab of being original? Scorn of The Orators of France. By Timon (Viscount de Cormenin.) Translated L of the Ne~w York Bar, from the Fourteenth Paris edition; with an Essay on tt Progress of~Frencb Revolutionary Eloquence, and the Orators of the Girondi Headley: edited by G. H. Cotton, with notes and biographical addenda. Baker & Scribrier. 94 The Or4tors of Fr4nce: second-hand? The first plea, mani- festly, will not go a great way in our case; and for the second, besides its losing a good portion of its pith from the first proving worthless, we might modify our great dignity a little with the reflec- tion that other nations quite as good as we are, have engaged in this labor with acknowledged benefit to the interests and character of literature at home. The truth is, the only thing we show in the matter is a discreditable indolence; we cannot engage in the direct toil of fitting these foreign wares for our market, but we do not hesitate to pilfer, and re-pro- duce, those which her Majestys Common- wealth of Letters have imported and adapted for their own use. The next thing to originating for our- selves, is to re-produce, in the finest dress of our native tongue, the noblest produc- tions of other languages. There is not a literature in Europe of any worth, a large part of whose acknowledged per- manent possessions are not considered as consisting in skillful versions of the chief authors of other countries. It is, indeed, the common duty of the literary men of a nation to set themselves to this task. The body of the people have not the gift of tongues; they can know nothing but by report of the untranslated efforts of writers out of their own coun- try. But all lettersthe writings of all nationsshould form a great community of intellectual wealtha fifth element, as interchanged and universal, as the airand wateran effect to he attained only by the means spoken of. Other countries have done their part towards this end, for themselves; we have looked to Eng- land to do it for us. But in this there are two or three great disadvantages. In the first place, we thus constantly confirm our habits of dependence on her; instead of which, by introducing among us, of our own labor, the most excellent foreign works French, German, Italian, Spanish whether of this or preceding centuries, we should go far to do away with both the fact and the feeling of such depend- ence. American translations of the truly great and abiding works of the modern tongues, could not fail to he considered as much a part of our literature as would be a new and successful rendering of Homer, LEschylus, or Virgil. Then, again, by foregoing this labor, we forego one of the greatest means of improving our style and enriching our capacities of language and The remark will be appreciat who have long and carefully the exercise of translation, or who have observed how much tice of it has done for nearly c nent writer in English literatur ought at this moment to betb be, had our men of letters bee their own advancement, and to est committed to their charge versions of all the great class~ in prose and poetry, of the m guages. But the worst is, that in rei the English for the translated get, we become imbued witi impressions of the writings and of foreign literature in Thus we not only delight ourv feasting upon the original pro British writers, instead of prod same ourselves, and borrow, ii their versions of the writing: neighbors, but end with ad trust their opinions of the me and letters of the rest of Eu this, it must be confessed 01 dishonor is completed, acquirc and roundnesstotus, teres, 0 dus! It is quite time that all ti have an end. Of the great r are the latest born, and the mopolitan both by character ar it belongs to us, both for justi and for our own benefit, that x~ ourselves directly with the manners, with the arts and with the political and social c all nations. Our publishers, it is true, Ii em works translated to their hardly be expected to pay fo sions, perhaps of inferior This consideration, however hold of those whose reputati come fixed by many years for they will bear two or th~ tions; while, on the other bar the most valuable and brillia tions of the current years a~ dered into English at all, as xv with Cormenins Portraits, us. It may be remarked, b that here would be one of the~ tical benefits of an internat~ right lawthe American puF ing to pay the English trans version of a foreign book, wc give the same amount to a 1847.] Cormenins Portraits. person at home for executing the same labor. But enough on this topicwe have been led too far by its importance in a gen- eral point of view, not intending to apply our remarks especially to the work before us, the value of which in such a connec- tion must be left to its readers. It is, however, altogether remarkable that Cormenins work should never have been translated in England. In France and on the Continent generally, its rep- utation is very great; it has been accept- ed as one of the most vigorous and bril- liant books published for many years, distinguished alike for its matter and its style. Its popularity is evinced by the number of editions published, seventeen or eighteen of which have appeared at Paris, and twelve at Brussels. On this point, the translator quotes from a late Parisian paper, (te Nationel,) announcing the appearance of the sixteenth edition: instance, however; in seve foreign tongues there ar~ ma and valuable works that remai to the English reader. How otherwise? We know that ture both of France and Germ lific in good booksthat we get portion of those works, and u~ inferior quality. The best considered not sufficiently po remunerative to publishers, v tion unfortunately makes the the matter, though their km commonly on a par with thei1 The original work of V~ Cormenin consists of two p first is a treatise of Principlm cepts, with illustrations, cove different species of eloquence in public writingsforensic pulpit, popular, and parliamer demical addresses, lectures; from the chair, haranguing What remains at this day, to be said of assemblies, in clubs, in the the Livre des Orateurs, except that it has the eloquence of the press; proved a fortune to the publisher, and a phleteers, the style of diph source of new triumphs to the author: patches and official documer the rapid sale of fifteen editions speaks would be of particular intere~ abundantly the opinion of the public. But with M. DE COaMENIN the editions men and politicians of this succeed each other without being alike, embraces the tactics of pa He touches and retouches unceasingly his liberative assemblies, of oppc elaborate pages; he adds, retrenches, ministerial policy. All this, transposes, polishes: he is eminently the part is designed to illustrate writer of the file and smoothing-plane traits, or sketches, of the m (de la lime et du rabot), a rare merit in orators and parliamentary le: our days, and which evinces in the author Mirabean, Danton, and Napol a proper respect for both the public and extraordinary military oratc himself. forth at large, down, througi The edition now issued contains some toration and the Revolution new Portraits, or rather outlines, in the Lamartine, Thiers, and Gj modest expression of the author. For as adds, at the end, as the promi soon as an orator appears, TIMON takes his pencil, draws a profile, sketches a head, ple of popular eloquence in mc completes a bust according to the rank a rapid and glowing portraii assigned to each in the parliamentary hie- oratory of OConnell, a eulok rarchy. Thus does he constantly keep up will be read with interest, no to the current of parliamentary life, though, hand and voice of the great In in truth, at present, neither active nor are still forever. brilliant. And as the sessions march on, The volume, as published h the Book of the Orators marches with of three parts: Ihe~translated them, advancing daily more and more in of Cormeninan essay prefli public admiration, and above all, in pecu- by Mr. Headley, on the rise niary productiveness. ter of eloquence in the Fren tionand about fiftypages of b This neglect of English publishers to addenda by the Editor. bring out a striking series of portraitures, Of the latter it is not requis embracing so many distinguished French here. They consist mainly of characters of three generations, is the facts, and narrative observatio. more remarkable from the fact that to the lives of some of the prir sketches or articles, relating to these acters treated of by the auth men, in the English periodicals, have would seem not so much nc transferred some of their most effective desirable. Timon does not strokes from Cormenin. It is not a rare much about their private hist 96 Tue Orators of France: hit off with a various and piquant pen the mental, moral, and physical charac- teristics, so to speak, of them and their oratory, with a brief notice of the times of their development. But to understand the limnings of a picture, we must have the accessories given, unless we know the antecedents of the scene and figures presented. These a Frenchman would possess already, because the characters are those with whom he has long been familiar; but with us a feeling of strangeness would pertain to foreign persons drawn naked and without the background of personal information. The orators to whom these particulars relate are Mirabeau, Danton, Benjamin Constant, Royer Collard, Lamartine, Thiers, and Guizot. The essay on the Girondists, though rapid and brief considering the extent of the subject, is an effective piece of writ- ing. It has the vigor, directness, and movement of style, characteristic of the authors productionsand it accomplishes its end-~--which could not be a display of breadth or profundity in so short a piece, but simply to leave, as it seems, a glowing unity of impression on the readers mind with respect to the rise of French popu- lar eloquence, and the orators of that pe- riod. In this way it seems to throw light upon the entrance into the field which Cormenins sketches subsequently cover. The translation is worthy of notice. We do not inde d agree with the au- thors theory expressed in his preface, of enriching our language with French idioms and expressions. He has not ventured, fortunately, upon the introduc- tion of many, but some of the few he ,has employed can never, we are sure, be na- turalized in our English tongup, as it certainly is not desirable they should be. One form, in particular, he has made use of, we cannot but think, by simple oversightfor it is one entirely peculiar to the ranch, and becomes with us a sheer grammatical error. It is the use of the perfect tense has been, when speaking of an action or event entirely in the past, having no connection with the present. They have said so, when Alexander, in his drunkenness, tore, & c. They have said so, when Nero assas- sinated his mother The Revolution of 1789 has been the great event of mod- em times. If these and some other in- stances belong to the translators theory, we would suggest that the theory be re formed; but they were doum looked in the haste of revis: the restto employ a Finer sion of some use in English, no equivalent the translai Timon are executed wit felicity and power. The on its peculiar subtleties of lan great variety of style, was dii rendered well. The task will to have been executed with grc The continuous force and apt pression displayed througho lectic precision and pictorial c skillful following of the au sant shiftings from argumen from eloquence to raillery an are deserving of some atteni the commonly bald and uneqi; of foreign works which have b before the public. It is not difficult to acco popularity of Cormenins skate are of men, very various in disposition, who have been and ruling intellects of the se of Europe, for a half cer crowded with great and starti and dramatic changes, than equal period of time has beer tory of any nation. And B traits are done with the master. Occasionally, as wi himself called upon to eulo; his satirical nature does not him to do, there is a flight language, a forced expendit tions and exclamations, such the Frenchman, and which do to their Gallic origin. He is of sufficient prejudices, whi. dent when he speaks of thou betrayed the cause of Franc for Timon, as he announ is a radical, but a radical n ble to centralized and strong; than most of those who call conservatives. He declar that he does not pique hi being impartial towards the ~ tors of his time. This c~ ration he certainly makes ~ most liberal manner. He is 1 independent, sometimes, in hi carrying satire to the ver ticeas may be instanced ii trait of Guizotwhere hi strokes are not so happily against the tergiversation~ It may be urged against h his love of raillery sometime 1847.] the appearance of inconsistency. He is to be read, therefore, with several grains of allowance. But in skill of characterization and oc- casional fineness of reasoning, in subtlety of coloring and amplitude of expression, in variety, uniqueness, and felicity of style, we do not know by what modern writer he has been surpassed. A passage of the Advertisement is to the point that with very great and powerful discrimination, a sinoular logical acute- ness, perspicuity, and frequent eloquence, Timon displays a scornful elegance, a subtle force of sarcasm and grace of badinage, not excelled by any writer since Voltaire. It is power concealed in a garb of lightness ;the blow is felt where only the rustling of the robes is seen. In short, it may be said that only the French people would furnish such sub- jects, and only a Frenchman would so draw their portraits. We feel, however, that he is a pefect master of style; and this is really the chief benefit of the introduction of Ti- mon to this country. He is certainly lia- ble at times to the charge of unnecessary copiousness and false effect; but he moves constantly with the utmost ease from grave remark and emphasis of ar- gument, to that delicate, keen analysis and light scorn of raillery in which, as he seems to know, lies his forte. In brief, as is remarked in the translators preface, besides the interest of the mat- ter, the work presents, in its method and style, a consummate model, especially for political writing, and it is not impossible that it will affect to a sensible degree the manner of our public writings. We hope that this may be the result, for it is most certain, that our political efforts of which nature are, and must long be, the most of our public effusions, whether in pamphlets, periodicals, or the newspa- per pressare characterized, from exclu- sive attention to English models, by a uniform heaviness, and excess of regu- larity, by no means favorable to that im- mediate popular effect which is the aim of such ephemeral productions. Our journalistsand even those of the Eng- lish, though we have nothing to show by the side of the great London papers-are not to be compared with that brilliant and powerful order of writers, who have made the Parisian Press confessedly the fourth estate of the kingdom. The most eminent public men of France have taken part in the discussions of tlu The productions, either in or in pamphlets, of Thiers, c briand, of Paul Louis Courier as a political writer, of Vilk Geoffroy, Benjamin Consta and especially, among a hos of Viscount de Cormenin, wh lets and newspaper essays we~ for many years under the ps Timon, have exercised nio~ upon the politics and publi. France, than all the efforts ol men have commanded in tb tive chambers. In view, partly, of exhibit and effective style to our politi. i~1renchorab a runnin. tors and oratory, some extracts, with slight commentaries. The eloquence of the Fren the 17th and 18th centuries, w almost entirely to the orators 01 Lingendes, whose funeral were celebrated in the reign XIII., Bossuet, in the reign XIV., one of the most eloqi sermoners, after him Bourd~ selme, Massillon, and San were the ora*ors of France ti close of the 18th century. I oratory was somewhat culti hardly the memory of any efforts has survived. In respc to forensic and parliamentary the French during all that po not compare with the English. But, to quote from the essay rondists, the advocate and the appeared in the French Revol the press and legislative hall media through which the soul tion uttered itself. The Convention of the State and final organization of the Assembly, fixed irretrievably ti Revolutibn. The deputies of assembled from every quarter found themselves at the outset with the throne and aristocrf nation was to be saved from ti and distress, and bankrupte threatened to overwhelm it; boldly entered on the task.. not come together to speak, b Met at every turn by .i con and nobility, they found themsc pelled to spend months on th principles of civil liberty. But more potent than words, and it 98 The Orators of France: ed an eloquent tongue to bind the As- sembly together, and encourage it to put forth those acts which the welfare of the nation demanded. It was not easy at once to destroy re- verence for the throne, and set at nought royal authority, yet the reformations which the state of the kingdom rendered impera- tive would do both. Right onward must this National Assembly move, or France be lost! To carry it thus forward, united, strong and bold, one all-powerful tongue was sufficient: and the great orator of the Assembly was Mirabean. At the outset, hurlin6 mingled defiance and scorn both on the nobilityfrom whom he had been excludedand the king, who thought to intimidate the deputies, he inspired the Tiers-Etat with his own boldness. No matter what vacillation or fears might agitate the members, when his voice of thunder shook the hall in which they sat, every heart became de- termined and resolute. With his bushy black hair standing on end, and his eye glarin~. fire, he became at once the hope of the people and the terror of the aristo- cracy. Incoherent and unwieldy in the commencement of his speech, steady and strong when fairly under motion, he carried resistless power ifl his appeals. As a huge ship in a dead calm rolls and rocks on the heavy swell, but the moment the wind fills its sails stretches proudly away, throwing the foam from its front, so he tossed irregular and blind upon his sea of thought, until caught by the breath of passion, when he moved majestically, irresistibly onward. A description of the meetings of that assembly, and a contrast of the spirit of its deliberations with that of the debates of the modern chambers, under the citizen-king, are ~iven by Cormenin in exceedingly terse and vivid language. It is perhaps one of the finest passages of the kind to be met with in any writer. How different those times from ours! The whole population of Paris used ~to mingle breathlessly in the discussions of the legislature. One hundred thousand citizens filled the Tuileries, the Place Venddme, the streets adjacent, and copied bulletins were passed from hand to hand, circulated, thrown among the crowd, con- taining the occurrences of each moment of the debate. There was then some public life and spirit. The nation, the citizens, the Assembly, were all in expectation of some great events, all full of that electric and vague excitement so favorable to the exhibitions of the tribune and tV of eloquence. We, who, live without faith or principles, d we are from head to foot with of political materialismwe, of manikins who inflate oursel mountain in labor, to bring mousewe, seekers of jobs, of office, of ribbons, epaulettes; ships and judgeshipswe, a kers and stockjobbers, of Hayt~ politan three or five per cent. court, of police, of coteries, of times, of all sorts of governm sorts of journalism, of all sorts we, deputies of a parish or oi ty; deputies of a harbor, of a canal, of a vineyard; deputic cane or beet-root; deputies bitumen ; deputies of charcoal iron, of flax; deputies of bovi asinine interests; deputies, in things except of France, we sh able to comprehend all that that famous Constituent Asse- conviction and thorou~h sincc plicity of heart, of singleness of virtue, of disinterestedness, table grandeur. No, one would have said C then in this Assembly and th our fathers, no men of matuu had experienced the evil days none of old age who remembe~ All was generous self-sacriflc enthusiasm, raptures of libert aspirations after a happier fut as a beautiful sun which d clouds of spring, warms the f~ and gilds every object with genial light. The nation, y dreamy, had imaginings of d inviting it to the loftiest destir fits of trembling, of tears, of mother in the delivery of I child. It was the Revoin cradle. . . All thin~s concurred to beau the grand potentate of his peculiar organization, studies, his domestic broils, t~ nary times in which he at spirit and manner of delibei Constituent Assembly, and tion truly marvellous of h faculties. . Says Cormenin, in anothe sketch, Mirabeau had a massive obesity of figure, thick lips broad, bony, prominent; arch an eagle eye, cheeks flat a. flabby, features full of po. blotches, a voice of thunder, mass of hair, and the face of Cormeni~z, roriraits. Born with a frame of iron and a tem- perament of flame, he transcended the vir- tues and the vices of his race. The pas- sions took him up almost in his cradle, and devoured him throughout his life. His exuberant faculties, unable to work out their development in the exterior world, concentrated inwardly upon themselves. There passed within him an agglomera- tion, a laboring, a fermentation of all sorts of ingredients, like the volcano which con- denses, amalgamates, fuses and brays its lava torrents before hurling them into the air through its flaming mouth. Greek and Latin literature, foreign languages, mathe- inatics, philosophy, music, he learned all, retained all, was master of all. Fencing, swimming, horsemanship, dancing, run- ning, wrestling, all exercises were familiar to him. The vicissitudes which the fortu- nate philosophers of the age had merely depicted, he had experienced. He had proudly looked despotism, paternal and ministerial, in the face, without fear and without submission. Poor, a fugitive, an exile, an outlaw, the inmate of a prison, every day, every hour of his youth was a fault, a passion, a study, a strife. Behind the bars of dungeons and bastilles, with pen in hand, and brow inclined over his books, he stowed the vast repositories of his memory with the richest and most va- ried treasures. His soul was tempered and etempered in his indignant attacks upon tyranny like those steel weapons that are plunged in water, while still red from the furnace.~~ * * * * * It is vulgarly imagined that the force of Mirabeau consisted in the dewlap~ of his bullish neck, in the thick masses of his lion-like hair; th4 he swept down his adversaries by a swing of his tail; that he rolled down upon them with the roarings and fury of a torrent; that he dismayed them by a look; that he overwhelmed them with the bursts of his thunder-like voice: this is to praise him for the exte- rior qualities of port, voice, and gesture, as we would praise a gladiator or a dramat- ic actor ; it is not to praise, as he ought to be praised, this great orator. Doubtless Mirabeau owed a great deal, at the outset of his oratorical career, to the prestige of his name. For he was already master of the Assembly by the reputati~ of his elo- quence, before he became so by his elo- quence itself. Doubtless Mirabeau owed much to that penetrating, flexible, and sonorous voice which used to fill with ease the ears of twelve hundred persons, to tho~ haughty accents which infused life and passion into his cause, to those impetuous gestures, which flung to his aifrighted ad- versaries defiances that dared them to re VOL. VI.NO. I. I ply. Doubtless he owed in: inferiority of his rivals; for ir sence the other celebrities were rather they were grouped as sata this magnificent luminary only it, by contrast, of a more vivid - The able Maury was but an ele~ rician; Cazal~s, a fluent speak: a taciturn metaphysician; Tho rist; i3arnave, a hope. But w lished his unrivalled dominie~ Assembly was, in the first pia. thusiastical predisposition of the itself; it was the multitude an currence of his astonishing fa productive facility, the immer studies and his knowledge grandeur and breadth of his views, the solidity of his reas. elaborateness and profundity = courses, the vehemence of his tions, and the pungency of his * * * * His manner as an orator is: great masters of antiquity, with ble energy of gesture and a veh diction which perhaps they reached. He is strong, becau= not diffuse.himself; he is natur he uses no ornaments; he is because he is simple; he does others, because he needs but to he does not surcharge his disco baggage ~f epithets, because I retard it; he does not run into Ii for fear of wandering from th~ His exordiums are sometimes sometimes majestic, as it corr,- the subject. His narration of fs. His statement of the question and positive. His ample an phraseology much resembles I phraseology of Cicero. He iii a solemn slowness, the folds course. He does not accumuk merations as ornaments, but as seeks net the harmony of wor concatenation of ideas. He dc haust a subject to the dregs, h- the flower. Would he dazzle brilliant images spring up k steps; would he teuch, he raptures of emotion, in tender g in oratorical transports, which flict with, but sustain, which confounded with, but follow, - which seem to produce one ar cessively, and flow, with a happ from that fine and prolific natur In illustration of what he Cormenin gives various fra, Mirabeans speeches and repai~ grand master of ceremonies Oi had come to reprimand the ~ its proceedings: 1847.] 100 The Orators of France: The Commons of France, said Mirabeau, have resolved to deliberate: and you, sir, who could not be the organ of the king to the National Assembly; you, who have here neither seat, nor vote, nor right of speaking, go tell your master that we are here by the will of the people, and that we will not be torn from it save by the force of bayonets. Mirabean was obstinate in defending the royal veto; instantly the wind of his popularity changed. He is denounced in an infamous libel, which accused him of treason. And me, too, he exclaim- ed, in an oratorical movement which electrified the Assembly, and me, too, they would, some days since, have borne in triumph, and now they cry through the streets The great conspiracy of Count Mirctbeau. I needed not this Lesson to know that there is but a step from the Capitol to the Tarpeian rock. Our author quotes, with evident com- mendation, Mirabeaus speech on Bank- ruptcy, where he advises the sacrifice, by force, of the fortunes of a few rich men, to make up the ruinous deficiencies in the public funds. The speech is cer- tainly powerful and splendid, but the doctrine is atrocious. It had an enor- mous effect, howeverwas doubtless one of the immediate impulses to the subsequent terrible popular commotions. Mirabeau, defeated en the Veto ques- tion by the Assemblys distrust of the royal authority, returned to the charge on the question of the admission of Ministers to a seat; but, in spite of the unheard-of efforts of intellect, eloquence, and logic, he succumbed beneath the violence of the same prejudice. lie then determined to seek, outside of the Parliament, for support and forces against it. But whyand here returns that embarrassing questionwhy did Mirabeau stop all of a sudden on the declivity of the Revolution? Was he aifrighted himself by the noise and violence of its course? Did he mean only to save liberty from its own aberrations, by pass- ing into its mouth a curb and bridle? His prejudices of education, of family, of birth, did they resieze him unconsciously? Was he bought over by the Court? Did he de- sire a limited monarchy, purged of fede- ralism and favoritism, a king and two Chambers, a constitutional trinity? Posterity alone will furnishor, perhaps, will not be able to furnishthe solution of this problem, to us insoluble. * * * * * What is less doubtful is, that Mira beau meant to push his colleagues to excesses, perhaps to crimes, punish them afterwards for h~ mitted them. A mode of perd satanic and worthy of Machiav ical immorality which honest brand with too much indigr which leaves a dark, a very upon the glory of this great ma Mirabeau., with his back li Hercules opposed to the breac revolutionary torrent, strove to consequences which, at all p out impetuously from their pri had in his star the faith somev stitious of great men. He iin~ the flying arrow may stop shoi before reaching its object. himself to serve alone intrep~ object to the continual firing mies. He was already prepari paroxysm of energy, to renex struggle, when, all of a strength gave way, and he sun monarchy of which he wore the At this astounding intelli~ is agitated, the people run to hi. and gather around, with lamen tears, the couch of Mirabea- Mirabeau dead~ They conte pensive eye the corpse of th~ They touch it, they seek still remnant of vital heat; they wildness of their despair, that be opened, and that, to revive he be given a part of theirs; and chafe those icy hands whic often the popular thunderbol harness themselves to his heart his remains to the Pantheoi pomp and apotheosis of a king. This was the end of Mirabe was the sorrow of the mull few months after it was de. his statue be veiled until 11 be re-established ! His hod entombed at midnight, hurr torch-light, and thrust into a cemetery, where only execute are buried, among whom tF guishable remains of this gre. mixed and confounded I The Constituent Assembi~ sat from 1789 to 1791. The of the Bastille and triumph of frightened the nobility, so tha in crowds from France. RB had constituted the oppositi which the deputies of the pe sJ~ruggle. After their flight, I no longer an opposition, the d turally split into two parties a~ selves. The Girondists were republicans, and demanded a founded on the principles of 1847.] Cormenins Portraits. republics; but a faction springing up more radical than themselves, and push- ing the state towards anarchy, they be- came conservatives. It was daring these changes, that Mirabeau, full of forebod- ings, had died. This Assembly, however, to quote another passage from a portion of the Es- say, lasted but nine months. The revolt of the 10th of August came; the Tuile- ries ran blood, and the Bourbon dynasty closed. The Legislative Assembly thea changed itself into the Convention, and the great struggle between the Girondists and Jacobins commenced; it was a life and death stru,~gle, and all the mental powers of these two bodies were brought to the task. The Girondists numbered among them some of the finest orators France has ever produced. They were the philosophers of the revolution, ever talking of Greece and Rome, and fondly dream- ing that the glorious days of those ancient republics could he recalled. Their elo- quence bad given immense popularity to the revolution and hastened it on. Grand and generous in their plans, they filled the imaginations of the people with beau- tiful but unreal forms. While they were thus speaking of Cataline and Cicero, and Brutes and Cusar, and the heroes of Greece, the Jacobins were talking of aristocrats in Paris, and arousing the pas- sions rather than exciting the imagina- tions of men. Cormenins chapter on Danton, though bearing that title, is really a full picture of the whole period. Adapting his lan- guage to the subject, he has made it im- pressive and terriblenot surpassed by any brief description Qf those times, ex- cept what is found in some chapters of Carlyle. How strange the picture drawn of the bloody Democracy betaking themselves to the classic ideas of antiquity! Whether from difficulty of invention, from custom, or from a classical education, the republicans of 1793 endeavored to revive, in their costumes, their attitudes, and their harangues, Sparta, Athens, and Rome. Strange! these most savage of dema0ogues had a sincere admiration for the laws, the manners, the apparel, the usages, the character, the speeches, the life and the death of the proudest and most insolent aristocrats of antiquity. The Greek bonnet was assumed, the plaited head-dress, and the long military cloak. Letters, the sole consolation of sensitive and delicate minds, were pro- scribed. The dearest friends demned to death, in affectation natured paternity of the ci Kings were detested with the tred of Horatius Codes. So themselves, some opened their tore out their vitals, seine plun, ately into the deem that aw~ after the manner of Decius, of the senators of Tiberius and Rome enslaved. Oath was mad their legislative seats, like the in their curule chairs. The d of the Cemmittees and of the was threatened with the dagger dius, and with the Tarpeian rec affected the frugality of Cincine the Spartans. The name of thc was written in red ink, on the p lists, in commemoration of S immortality of the soul was d view of the dyin~ Cato. To from wearing any, it was observ democrat, Jesus Christ, had n- breeches. You were outlawed trial, as the proscribed were h mans interdicted fire and watel was stifled, justice was violatc was abused, virtue itself was ex in order the nearer to resemble So much for the exterior part which is conversant about for ments, and images. As for the philosophy, financial economy lions of rights and duties, it wi losophy, economy and the defi Rousseau and of the Encyclopec At the commune of Paris, at I the Jacobins, in the popular sc the government Committees, in tins of the army, at the bar of C bly, in the public places, at the scaffold, everywhere and on all it was substantially the same same vehemence, the same gra same fi~ ures, the same exclam same imitations, the same apol same vocabulary, the same langi. In this revolutionary drama, torical exhibition, so vivid, so stirring, so terrible, all is disor agitation, all is confusionthe debates, the petitioners, the pop places are common, the bar of the presidents chair, and the trB From the ceiling of the h~ doors, in the lobbies both insid. side, all played their parts, all x~ combat, crisis, applause, disap1 The sections armed, impelled, unknown, invisible leaders, st Convention, threw down all bef pointed out the suspected depo demanded that, before the housc they should fall beneath the swo law. The people has risen, it ing, it is waiting ! 102 The Orators of France: Extraordinary times! singular contrast! That Assembly which boldly flung its challenges of war to all the kin,,s of Eu- rope, quailed itself before the threats and insults of a few foaming demagogues, and pushed its forbearance or rather its pusil- lanimity so far as to accord them the hon- ors of the sittino The general mind, elevated gradually by the excitement of speaking, was trans- ported into a state of frenzy. Legendre used to exclaim, Should a tyrant arise, he will die by my handI swear it by Brutus ! And Dronet: Be ye brig- ands for the public xveal, I say, be brig- ands ! Marat was seen to draw a pistol from his bosom, and resting it upon his forehead: Another word, he exclaimed, and I blow out my brains ! not one around him fell back, or took the slight- est alarm; so much to kill ones self, or to be killed, appeared at that time nat- ural! These are some of Cormenins brief portraits of the orators of the Convention: Languinais, a headstrong Breton, in- flexible in his opinions, a learned publicist. He shrunk from no danger. He com- pounded with no sophism. Feeble in body, intrepid in spirit, he fought word for word, gesture for gesture. He would hold by, he would rivet himself to, the tribune. When his resignation as deputy was clam- orously called for, with threats and abuses, he let fall with majesty the following beautiful words : Remember that. (he victim ornamented with flowers and led to the altar, was not insulted by the priest who was about to immolate it. * * * * * * Marat, a man of ferocious instincts and of a base and degraded figure, whom Danton repudiated and Robespierre would never approach a universal denouncer, who used to invoke Saint Guillotine, ex- cite the populace to assassination, and, for mere pastime, call fnr two hundred thou- sand victims, the Kings head, and a dic- tator! A man of whom you could not say whether he was more cruel than insane; a buffoon and a trifler, without dignity, without decency, without moderation. He would toss about on his seat like a demoniac, leap up, clap his hands, burst into loud laughter, besiege the tribune, frown at the speaker, and let the mob place ridiculously on his head, in presence of the Convention, a crown of oaken leaves. Addressing the Assembly, he was in the habit of repeating with emphasis I call you to a sense of decency, if you have any left. * * * * * Couthon, the counsellor of F of whom Saint-Just was the e~ paralytic in both legs, and al to stir among all those acti Couthon, who, sentenced to de text of having designed to cray rank of sovereignty, contented h replying ironically: I aspire a king I * * * Saint-Just, a republican by austere by temperament, disin character, a leveller upon sy bune in the Committees, a V battle-field. His youth, which manhood, was ripe for great di capacity was not beneath hi A gloomy fire beamed in his had a melancholy expression nance, a certain inclination fo, delivery slow and solemn, a intrepidity, a determined will ever fixed and distinct befor. He elaborated his reports wit dogmatism. He seasoned them of metaphysics taken from Rousseau, and, to the violent tious realities of his revolutiom he joined a social philosophy c of humanitarian imaginations reveries. Here are some of his say; fire of liberty has refined us, as of metals throws off from the. impure scum. And this woi And this other: The trace~ and of genius cannot be eff~ universe. The world is voi since the days of the Roman memory still fills it. * * * Robespierre, an orator of c fluency, practised in the harar clubs and the contests of the i tient, taciturn, dissembling, en superiority of others, and con vain ; a master of the subject and of himself; giving vent to only by muttered exclamatic so mediocre as his enemies him, nor so great as his frier tolled him ; thinking far too fa speaking much too lengthily his services, his disinterestedr triotism, his virtue, his justic himself incessantly upon the laborious windings and circi and surcharging all his discour~ tiresome topic of his personali * * * * Robespierre wrote his rep his harangues, and scarce eve ized but in his replies. He could sketch with abili nal condition of the political had, perhaps in a higher degi 1847.] Cormenins Portraits. colleagues, the views of the statesman and, whether vague instinct of ambition, or system, or ultimate disgust of anarchy, he was for unity and strength in the exec- utive power. His oratorical manner was full of allu- sions to Greece and Rome, and the college truants who thronged the Assembly used to listen valiantly, with gaping mouths, to those stories of antiquity. * * * * * * He was in the habit of also dealing out tedious philosophical tirades about virtue, which were palpable reminiscences of Jean-i acques Rousseau.~ * * * * * * Sometimes his images were clothed with much eloquence of form: Do we calumniate the luminary which gives life to nature, because of the light clouds that glide over its effulgent face? This other idea is beautiful: Mans reason still resembles the globe he inhab- its. One half of it is plunged in darkness, when the other is illuminated. * * * *. * * Robespierre was a deist, as was also Saint-Just. But, to be a deist and own it publicly, was to be quite religious for those times. * * * * * IRobespierre and Saint-Just viewed nature, as she is seen on the stage and amid the decorations of the opera, in pastoral perspective, with singing choirs of vener- able old men and bands of rose-crowned village girls. They moralized speculative- ly on liberty and equality, with less elo- quence than Rousseau, but also with less pedagoguism. As organizers, they were neither more nor less advanced than the rest of the Mountainists. They lived from day to day, like all party leaders, in times of open revolution: too engrossed with the care of getting rid of their enemies and de- fending themselves, to think of aught else. in them, action left no time for thought, and the present absorbed the future. Of what he says of Danton at greater lengtha vigorous and discriminating presentationwe can quote but a few passages. Danton had, like Mirabeau, viewed near, a sallow complexion, sunken fea- tures, a wrinkled forehead, a repulsive ug- liness in the details of the countenance. But like Mirabeau, seen at a distance, and in an assembly, he could not fail to draw attention and interest by his st iking physi- ognomy and by that manly beauty which is the beauty of the orator. The one bad something of the lion and the other of the bull-dogboth emblematic of strength. Born for the highest eloquence, Danton might, in antiquity, with his voice, his impetuous gestures, lossal imagery of his disco swayed from the height of the bone the tempestuous waves o tude. An orator from the r~ people, Danton had their pass stood their character, and spol guage. He was enthusiastic, b- without malice but without pected of rapacity, though he coarse in his manners and his c sanguinary from system rath perament, he cut off heads, 1 hatred, like the executioner,: chiavelian hands trickled with of September. Abominable false policy I he excused the ci means by the greatness of the - * * * * Danton was intemperate, a~ his pleasures, and greedy of mc hoard than to spend it; Robespic austere, economical, incorrupt ton, indolent by nature and by bespierre, diligent in labor, c sacrifice of sleep. Danton di bespierre, and Robespierre cont ton. Danton was careless to inconsistency; Robespierre, i~ centrated, distrustful, even to g Danton,boastful of his real vice evil which he did, and a prete crimes which he never commit pierre, varnishing his animosi geance with the color of the Robespierre, a spiritualist materialist, little concerned to after death, should become of I vided his name was inscribe. pressed it, in the Pantheon of * * * * Danton went to sleep, cow deceitful breeze of his popu rudder slipped from his hands pod into the deep, and the gulf him. Neither the favor of th. nor the celebrity of his na memory of his services, nor pressed mutterings of the Con the secret sympathies of the R Tribunal, nor the devotedr friends, nor the unimporta charge, nor his love for libe daring, nor his eloquence.nc avail to save him. The knife and Robespierre awaited his v: Danton, on his way to passed by the residence of He turned about, and with thunder, Robespierre! he Robespierre I I summon thc within three months upon t He ascends the fatal steps for the last time his friend C 104 Foreign Miscellany. inoulins. The executioner separates them: Wretch, said he to him, thou caust not hinder our heads to kiss each other pre- sently in the basket. Of Timon, in his description of military eloquence, as exhibited by Na- poleon, and in the portraits he has drawn, always wittily and with a a not always with supreme justi orators and ministerial leaders to the Restoration and to Louis Francethe France of this may speak in another number. FOREIGN MISCELLANY. THE Literary Intelligence from abroad is of small variety or moment this month. The political news is of more interest, but does not vary greatly from that of the last arrival. We ha e received one of two letters from Paris, partly on general topics of the time, partly a pleasant description of the Parisian life in May. PARIs, May 16th, 1847. The difference between Greece and the Sublime Porte is far from being adjusted. The Russian cabinet, and, after long hesi- tation, the Austrian also, have given in their adhesion in favor of Turkey. Instruc- tions to this effect, even more perempto- ry than those of Lord Paimerston have been dispatched from their respective courts to the ambassadors of Russia and of Austria at Athens. The danger which threatened the Greek government on the side of the English, is diminished by the proposition of M. Eynard, an ardent Phil- hellenist, to become personally responsible for the interest of the British loan. It is rumored that designs have already been formed at Constantinople with a view tore- place King Otho on the throne of Greece by a son-in-law of the Emperor of Russia. The Grmco-Turkish affair becomes daily more complicated, and may lead to serious consequences. Itis stated in the journals of this morn- ing that the Queen of Portugal has been forced to quit Lisbon and seek refuge on board an English vessel of war lying in the Tagus. However this may be, it is certain that she has at length ceased her obstinate resistance to the terms proposed by the mediation of Great Britain. Colo- nel Wylde embarked on the 30th of April for Oporto with the instructions of the Queen and the English Minister. These instructions cffer to the Junto, the moment it shall lay down arms, a complete amnesty for all political offences committed since last October, and the recall of the exiles; the immediate revocation of all edicts is- sued since the same period, inconsistent with the established laws and the consti- tution of the country; the convocation of the Cort~s, directly after the new elec tions; and the formation of a mi posed of men belonging neith party of Cabral, nor to that of th A great sensation was excited on the 4th of May by a supposed assassinate the Queen Isab Angel de la Riva, a newspai formerly an advocate, and wh. dents by no means justify the has been arrested upon suspicic implicated in the crime. The a decree on the 5th prorogued siae die. On the next day, mo deputies of the moderate oppc minated a permanent committ duty shall be, during the susper parliamentary session, to watri general interests of the party. In Germany, all eyes are tn Berlin, where the Diet, skilifull unpleasant collision with thea has eluded or put off the irrit? culties of theories and principl& fines itself, for the present, to sion of positive, practical affai journals complain of the steril debates of the Diet, which, acc them, wastes a great many wor really accomplishing anything. unjust to consider the part that by this assembly as useless and barren. It has already ohtai Frederick William a modificat bitter and haughty language of h discourse, in which absolute gravely presented itself to the p. der the colors of mysticism. P1 yet be obliged to struggle a br. the attainment of its ardent desiz first step towards this has now h. and is only the beginning of an e In France, a singular state of now is presented in the politic Ina recent debate upon Frenc slavery, the most frightful det probability, however, exaggera given by M. L6dui-Rollin, in to the present condition of the sb colonies, and the inefficiency w government has prosecuted devised for speedy emancipatic this subject had been discussed,

Foreign Miscellany 104-108

104 Foreign Miscellany. inoulins. The executioner separates them: Wretch, said he to him, thou caust not hinder our heads to kiss each other pre- sently in the basket. Of Timon, in his description of military eloquence, as exhibited by Na- poleon, and in the portraits he has drawn, always wittily and with a a not always with supreme justi orators and ministerial leaders to the Restoration and to Louis Francethe France of this may speak in another number. FOREIGN MISCELLANY. THE Literary Intelligence from abroad is of small variety or moment this month. The political news is of more interest, but does not vary greatly from that of the last arrival. We ha e received one of two letters from Paris, partly on general topics of the time, partly a pleasant description of the Parisian life in May. PARIs, May 16th, 1847. The difference between Greece and the Sublime Porte is far from being adjusted. The Russian cabinet, and, after long hesi- tation, the Austrian also, have given in their adhesion in favor of Turkey. Instruc- tions to this effect, even more perempto- ry than those of Lord Paimerston have been dispatched from their respective courts to the ambassadors of Russia and of Austria at Athens. The danger which threatened the Greek government on the side of the English, is diminished by the proposition of M. Eynard, an ardent Phil- hellenist, to become personally responsible for the interest of the British loan. It is rumored that designs have already been formed at Constantinople with a view tore- place King Otho on the throne of Greece by a son-in-law of the Emperor of Russia. The Grmco-Turkish affair becomes daily more complicated, and may lead to serious consequences. Itis stated in the journals of this morn- ing that the Queen of Portugal has been forced to quit Lisbon and seek refuge on board an English vessel of war lying in the Tagus. However this may be, it is certain that she has at length ceased her obstinate resistance to the terms proposed by the mediation of Great Britain. Colo- nel Wylde embarked on the 30th of April for Oporto with the instructions of the Queen and the English Minister. These instructions cffer to the Junto, the moment it shall lay down arms, a complete amnesty for all political offences committed since last October, and the recall of the exiles; the immediate revocation of all edicts is- sued since the same period, inconsistent with the established laws and the consti- tution of the country; the convocation of the Cort~s, directly after the new elec tions; and the formation of a mi posed of men belonging neith party of Cabral, nor to that of th A great sensation was excited on the 4th of May by a supposed assassinate the Queen Isab Angel de la Riva, a newspai formerly an advocate, and wh. dents by no means justify the has been arrested upon suspicic implicated in the crime. The a decree on the 5th prorogued siae die. On the next day, mo deputies of the moderate oppc minated a permanent committ duty shall be, during the susper parliamentary session, to watri general interests of the party. In Germany, all eyes are tn Berlin, where the Diet, skilifull unpleasant collision with thea has eluded or put off the irrit? culties of theories and principl& fines itself, for the present, to sion of positive, practical affai journals complain of the steril debates of the Diet, which, acc them, wastes a great many wor really accomplishing anything. unjust to consider the part that by this assembly as useless and barren. It has already ohtai Frederick William a modificat bitter and haughty language of h discourse, in which absolute gravely presented itself to the p. der the colors of mysticism. P1 yet be obliged to struggle a br. the attainment of its ardent desiz first step towards this has now h. and is only the beginning of an e In France, a singular state of now is presented in the politic Ina recent debate upon Frenc slavery, the most frightful det probability, however, exaggera given by M. L6dui-Rollin, in to the present condition of the sb colonies, and the inefficiency w government has prosecuted devised for speedy emancipatic this subject had been discussed, 1847.] tion of supplementary credits came up. The cipher of this budget increases annu- ally, and well deserves to be called, as it has been, the ulcer of the body-politic of France. In connection with this mat- ter, the affairs of Algeria were touched upon, but only in a cursory manner. The consideration of tbe project of postal re- form will, likewise, in all probability, he adjourned until another session, under the pretext of giving the new minister time to study the question, which was not at all likely to have been determined even had no change taken place in the administra- tion. The change of ministry, or rather of ministers, which took place last week, involves no change of policy. It simply became convenient for the influential min- istersthat is, M. Guizot and M. Ducha- telto sacrifice three of their colleagues by way of expiation for the faults of the cabinet. MM. de Mackau and Moline de St. You, ministers of the marine and of war, and ~M. Lacavo-Laplagne, minister of finance, were therefore bowed out of their places. The sailor and the soldier obeyed the countersign of their chiefs, but the financier was not so flexible, alleging that if the treasury was in a b d state, it was the fault of the whole government, and could not be charged exclusively upon his shoulders. He was therefore dismiss- ed, while the other two resigned. It is said that some difficulty was experienced in providing them with successors, and, at length, the telegraph communicated to M. Jayr, prefect of the Rhone, to the Duke of Montebello, ambassador at Na- ples, and to Lieutenant-General Tr~zer, that they were elevated to the subal- tern posts which the great ministers have been pleased to assign to them. M. Dumon, minister of public works, (put in the place of M. Jayr, whose name is quite unknown in Paris,) has himself been ap - pointed in place of M. Lacave-Laplagne., late minister of finance. This was effected at the very moment that M. flumon was the object of severe attacks for the inabili- ty manifested by him to say the little word no, in his former position, and behold he is now comfortably placed where he will be able to pay for what he has hitherto been unable to refuse. The three newly appointed ministers, were all niembers of the Chamber of Peers, arid all absent from their seats, at the lucky or fatal moment when they were detected away from the scene of their legislative duties and condemned to tr-avai~uc forc6esin the ministry. Perhaps it may not be long before the royal pleasure will commute their sentence todismis- sion. The Chamber ofPeers has been summon- ed to assemble as a high court to judge one of its members for being engaged in a certain Foreign Miscellany. negotiation with a railroad which shows how rare is pol ty even in the highest ph The parties in. he case are general, peer of France, ox-in King. and another peer of F dent of the chamber of the Cc tion, and also ox minister. Lieut. Gen. Cubi~res accuse ox-minister, but the entire g not being guiltless in this scar action. The whole affair is o leaf from the secret history o day. How many shameful m not this history con eal It French people, however, to while on all hands the char on this expression of Tacitus, et corrumpi, snculum vocato fact that such complaints ar proves that corruption cannc so deep and extensive as mig in a community where the lat instance of it in the Chamber so bitterly and universally lam PARis, 31st .?Ji May is a pleasant month at heat, oven at noon, is not yet in summer, and for some tim returning dawn might have exquisite lines of old Herbert: Sweet day, so cool, so calm, The bridal of the earth and In the public gardens, the with that of June, while the b1 flowers of an earlier season eye. Nothing is now more than the garden of the Luxemb cool breezes of morning or of there laden with fragrance. tues gloam forth from shady av~ sing happily, emulating the vo~ dren playing under green trees martial music are inn the air, light lingers and plays about th ing fountain of Jacques Debro~ glide over the pretty lakelot terre, which is gay with lik young roses and geraniums, mov exhibit all varieties of comple. turrie, and manner, the fine its memorable associations, na: of the distant Observatory, wave their long arms mysterior towers of St. Sulpice, the ross ing the Sorbonne is burnished b and the whole animated scone: by the dome of the Pantheon. At the very moment that sr tions enliven the metropolis, emigration to watering places cc But while a small flock of sun dorers, who have fluttered dunn ter in the gilded cages of fash 106 Foreign Miscellany. away by one of the thirty-six gates of Paris, thousands of provincials and for- eigners enter by the others, and throng the gardens and promenades in and around the capital. Several patronal fetes which are held at this season in the vicinity of Paris, afford to strangers illustrations of the national character. The most interesting of these the coronation of the Rosi~re, as it is calledwas celebrated last week at Nan- terre. Here the village maiden whose eighteen years have passed most innocent- ly and virtuously, is selected and crowned with a garland of May flowers. This beautiful custom is only one out of a thou- sand showing the tenacity with which the French, in spite of their proverbial fickle- ness, cling to time-honored observances. The church where the ceremony was per- formed presented a brilliant assemblage of persons of distinction and rank, who, per- haps, in the midst of their own dazzling pleasures, might well envy the simple joys of this village festival. The dance, which is an ngel on the village lawn, may, in the city ball-gardens, be a demon in disguise. But it is at least skillfully dis,uised, and he deception is scarcely detected behind the bravery of silks and satins, and in the excitement of eccentric motions. One does not at first perceive that the wreath here encircling the brow of meretricious beauty is like the fig leaves in the basket of the E~yptian Queen, which bore the asps trail and slime upon them, while the sly worm itself lurk- ed beneath. The summer ball at Paris bewilders by its fascinationsits illumination, render- ing the flowers and foliage distinctly visi- ble, its various amusing games, its gay crowds, its polkas and mazourkas, with their wild extemporaneous variations, its voluptuous waltzes and cachucas, and its enlivening music: isitextas habebat cu- piditates, voluptates, delicias, illicebras, suspiria, desideria, risas, jocos, bianda verba, gaudia, jargia, et hujusmodi, quibus amatorum vita constat. The JardinsMa- bille mourn this year the loss of one of their living incarnations of the dance, la rome Pomar6, one of the most renowned nymphs of the Parisian Olympus. Not only the public balls, but also the floating baths on the Seine, are now open, and afford one of the greatest physical luxuries. The annual exhibition at the Louvre is closed, but many of the best pieces of painting and sculpture will be secured for the galleries of the Luxem- bourg, and the penpie are consoled for not seeing any longer the portraits of Ibrahim Pacha and the Bey of Tunis by the privi- lege of daily staring in the streets at Bou- Maya, the pretended Messiah of the Arabs, who, by the way, voluntarily surrendered himself, and was not captured, according to the erroneous statements of journals. The evening serve different churches during tI devoted to the honor of the ble are highly interesting to th But it is characteristic of th that the picturesque attitudes penitents lisping the sweet Quelie est bonne, Marie ! exquisite music, Mid storied windows rich Casting a dun religious li. lend to these services, ospeci elegant Notre Dame do Loret doir of our Lady, as it has bee peculiar charm which has m than of heaven, and places thc among the most refined amuse season. But the chosen diversions sians during the last six or e have been equestrian. The been transformed into centaurs where, at the steeple-chase of de-Berny, at the races of V Champe-de-Mars, and Chant Cirque and at the Hippodrom has been the hero. The I particularly, has offered un attractions. Not content witb and stag and hurdle and R races; with the Carrousel or vitation of the dainty minw extravagant modern dances b ulous hor es of Franconi, the attempted to revive the me splendid and graceful shows so much light and elegance ov and warn rs of yore. The fa of the Cloth of Gold has be. ed with a surprising perfecti and general effect. The spec ported in imagination to I ages, and almost beli~ives hit at the tournament with its play of royal and baronial ~ brilliant cortege defiles heft its head ride Francis 1. and in company with Claude ot Catharine of Arragon, and t brilliant train of the most v~ France and England. TL King of Navarre, the Duk. do Venddme, do Lorrair York, Lancaster, and the ro~ tants, says Dubellay, a chi time, chamarres do velo grosses chaines dor au col, tres bien accomod6s, tant quo do chevaux enfin, in empanach6s, dor~s, surdon6s plusiours entre eux pot for~ts, leurs pr~s, et leurs leurs epaules. Court lad upon white palfreys, prece Knights armed for combat, gold and silk blending with Foreign Miscellany. steel. Heralds, pages and squires bring up the rear. Eighty horses prance and caracole under their caparisons of iron or of velvet. Feathers, white plumes, and banners covered with fleurs-de-lys, toss and wave in the wind. The ol)ponents are ran~,ed in due order after having done obei- sance to the monarchs and queens and noble d. mes, who survey the field from a pavilion adorned by fittin~, heraldric em- blems. And now, as sings the old verse of Palamon and Arcite, the challenger with fierce defy His trumpet sounds; the challenged makes reply. With clangor rings the field, resounds the vaulted sky. Their visors closed, their lances in the rest, Or at the helmet pointed, r the crest, They vanish from the harrier, speed the race And spurring we see decrease the middle space. At Chantilly, the Duke of Aumale, the wealthiest and mo -t parsimonious of Louis Philippes sons, has this year loosened his purse-strings, and aimed to rival the magnificence of he Cond6, whose heir he is, ttnd to eclipse the fdtes celebrated durin,~ the present month at Lon. It is singular that the latter place, in Ho land, is the only one in Europe where falconry, the mystery of rivers, the favorite sport of the ancient feudal nobility, is still 4 practised to any extent. The little vil- la~ e of Falcon swaerd has for many years furnished falconers to the rest of the con- tinent, and to Great Britain. The fine old game was not revived at Chantilly, and no one rode there With grey gros hawk on hand, as Chaucer says. But huntingthe mys- tery of woods diversified the sports of the turf, and lansquenetthe French bra0lent its excitements to the occa- sion, and led, by the way, to the most awkward consequences in the case of one visitor. This person was detected in cheating at cards, and his prospects of a brilliant career in France are forever cut off Belonging to a distinguished and wealthy family, his mother possessing an enormous fortune,one of his sisters married to a great banker of Paris, another to a General, a third wearin0 one of the most illustrious names of the empire, himself enjoyin~, an annual income of twenty thou- sand francs, and on the point of being promoted from the post of captain to that of chef descadron, he had no excuse for resorting to the piracies of gamhling, except as a means of supplying the l)rodi- galities of a lionne who belongs neither to the opera nor to the parish of Ndtre Dame de Lorette, but to the same exalted circle of rank in which he has himself moved. He had the assurance to present himself before the prince on the morning after his detection, but was or diately to retire, yield his con quit the country. So much fo in the highest spheres of fas in France. Of course, one must not e more integrity in political ci case of G n- Cubi~res, chare tempts at bribery in referenc. concessions sought for by the of a mine,a case implicatir seem, not only himself, a p minister, and another peer ar ter, but also, to an unknown e ral persons holding high auti be brought before the Tious summoned already to his fri few days. Curious develop secret history of the time are Even if it were impossibl. the present government with corruption, stil the charge of effecting national reforms an enterprises may justly pref~ it. It is desirable that the should be less dilatory in ti ment of the proposed lines of L steamers. Seven or eight elapsed since the matter upon, and the consideration relating to all of them, exce Havre to New York, was the other day to a future sr first French steamer from ha York was to have sailed to- departure has, for some unkr been postponed for at least addition to the numerous pr form which have been rejecte- present session of the Ch~ proposition of postal reform h set aside on the ground that unsafe to expose the country i tion of the revenue which wo rily follow, for at least three . a reduction in the price of po~ present state of the finances. The recent change in the merely a change of instrument policy. M. Lacave Laplagne, Finance, and MM. de Mackau St. You, Ministers of Marine no longer belong to the cabin MM. de Montebello (for tV Dr~zel (for War), and Jayr Works, in place of M. Dumc ceeds M. Lacave Laplagne), r members. Guizot and Duc have thus sacrificed their c their own good pleasure, are fective ministers. But if, a~ tured, their present personal should remain unadjusted, an ministry may soon be substiti now in power. The opposition journals core ly of the decline of Frenc 18471 108 abroad. At Madrid it is null in spite of the vaunted Spanish marriages, one of whichthat of the Queenhas become so much sooner than could ever have beeia anticipated the cause of discord and un- happiness: Isabella is resolute in sum,, the Pope for a divorce. At Lisbon, France sees herself forced to join Spain in an ar- rangement which has been planned and almost accomplished by England, who will reap the principal advantages. But we must rejoice that the intervention of these three countries, now rendered requisite by the refusal of the Junto of Oporto to ac- cede to the terms recently proposed, will probably secure a respite from civil war to Portugal, now so fallen, but once a noble nation. At Athens, the Greek cabinet has accepted the humiliating conditions pro- posed by Austria, whom it chose, in pref- erence to France, as arbiter in its difficul- tics with the Ottoman Porte, and Coletti will probably proffer due apologies for the alleged insult to Mussurus. Even at Rome, the French, who style themselves the eldest son of the Church, and have just paid a rich tribute to the I the passage, in the Chambers, relative to the Royal Chapter o are fearful of the effect on the there which will be caused by now deliberated upon, of relatic the Papal court and the co James. Ireland is now mourning OConnell, whose recent dealt has naturally produced a deep but is of much less political than it would have been, had it few years ago. The great c Repeal had, in fact, outlived power over the wills of his c What a -onderful power it we. wielded But I may not dwell upon subject. My principal aim in has been to give you some idea amusements in the month of hour for the departure of th come, and I must abruptly doe Yours respectf CRITICAL A Year of Consolatio . By MRS. BUT- LER (late FANNY KENEBLE). Wiley & Putnam: New York. A book about Italy, or even any part of Europe, nowadays, must have some con- siderable merit to be at all readable. We are surfeited with ruins, and beg- gars, and illuminations, and ceremonials, and paintin,,s. There is a glut in the market. People have their houses full of Italian views, and their libraries full of Italian travels, and boarding-school misses are twaddlin,, nelle parole Tusca e. Yet here is another book from Mrs. Butlerand it sells. It gives arun through France, and a year in Rome. The name of Fanny Kemble alone would insure its circulation, had it but little merit of its own. But merit of a certain kind it has. It is gossiping, lively, with here and there strokes of wit, and upon the whole a natu- ral and truth-telling air. We cannot always, it is true, approve her taste in picturesas when she sneers at the wonderful Vanity and Modesty of Da Vinci, or the Judgment of Angels; or in statuaryas when she prefers Antinous to the Gladiator, or the Red Satyr of the Capitol; or in wordsas when she uses such expressions as these: they are triple-cased in the impervious callousness of the lowest degradation NOTICES. (p. 67, vol. i.) the boat kic old rusty fowling-piece (p. 5~ I smiled a sort of verjuice sir as sick as possible and a crosser (p. 1) nosegays so heavy, that they stove in one (p. 79). And when we find he as in page 133, of the imbe government, being like dung the soil, and in page 32, of women, stinking of garlic, a 3, of the ingenious twisting horses tails, with an eye to hei hair it makes us tremble manly delicacy. And having seen Madame that, too, in the streets of h Rome, and in the very gust of val which she so well describe in,, seen her modest, womaul nay morehaving actually be with a bunch of blue violets at and having given a sweet rose turnwe wondered a little to use of such hard words as down. But she has pretty languag off: her description of the go mination is both one of the I and truest that we have eve (setting aside Dickens) the sa said of her Carnival Scenein is true, even to her own and Critical Notices.

A Year of Consolation. Mrs. Fanny Kemble Butler Critical Notices 108-109

108 abroad. At Madrid it is null in spite of the vaunted Spanish marriages, one of whichthat of the Queenhas become so much sooner than could ever have beeia anticipated the cause of discord and un- happiness: Isabella is resolute in sum,, the Pope for a divorce. At Lisbon, France sees herself forced to join Spain in an ar- rangement which has been planned and almost accomplished by England, who will reap the principal advantages. But we must rejoice that the intervention of these three countries, now rendered requisite by the refusal of the Junto of Oporto to ac- cede to the terms recently proposed, will probably secure a respite from civil war to Portugal, now so fallen, but once a noble nation. At Athens, the Greek cabinet has accepted the humiliating conditions pro- posed by Austria, whom it chose, in pref- erence to France, as arbiter in its difficul- tics with the Ottoman Porte, and Coletti will probably proffer due apologies for the alleged insult to Mussurus. Even at Rome, the French, who style themselves the eldest son of the Church, and have just paid a rich tribute to the I the passage, in the Chambers, relative to the Royal Chapter o are fearful of the effect on the there which will be caused by now deliberated upon, of relatic the Papal court and the co James. Ireland is now mourning OConnell, whose recent dealt has naturally produced a deep but is of much less political than it would have been, had it few years ago. The great c Repeal had, in fact, outlived power over the wills of his c What a -onderful power it we. wielded But I may not dwell upon subject. My principal aim in has been to give you some idea amusements in the month of hour for the departure of th come, and I must abruptly doe Yours respectf CRITICAL A Year of Consolatio . By MRS. BUT- LER (late FANNY KENEBLE). Wiley & Putnam: New York. A book about Italy, or even any part of Europe, nowadays, must have some con- siderable merit to be at all readable. We are surfeited with ruins, and beg- gars, and illuminations, and ceremonials, and paintin,,s. There is a glut in the market. People have their houses full of Italian views, and their libraries full of Italian travels, and boarding-school misses are twaddlin,, nelle parole Tusca e. Yet here is another book from Mrs. Butlerand it sells. It gives arun through France, and a year in Rome. The name of Fanny Kemble alone would insure its circulation, had it but little merit of its own. But merit of a certain kind it has. It is gossiping, lively, with here and there strokes of wit, and upon the whole a natu- ral and truth-telling air. We cannot always, it is true, approve her taste in picturesas when she sneers at the wonderful Vanity and Modesty of Da Vinci, or the Judgment of Angels; or in statuaryas when she prefers Antinous to the Gladiator, or the Red Satyr of the Capitol; or in wordsas when she uses such expressions as these: they are triple-cased in the impervious callousness of the lowest degradation NOTICES. (p. 67, vol. i.) the boat kic old rusty fowling-piece (p. 5~ I smiled a sort of verjuice sir as sick as possible and a crosser (p. 1) nosegays so heavy, that they stove in one (p. 79). And when we find he as in page 133, of the imbe government, being like dung the soil, and in page 32, of women, stinking of garlic, a 3, of the ingenious twisting horses tails, with an eye to hei hair it makes us tremble manly delicacy. And having seen Madame that, too, in the streets of h Rome, and in the very gust of val which she so well describe in,, seen her modest, womaul nay morehaving actually be with a bunch of blue violets at and having given a sweet rose turnwe wondered a little to use of such hard words as down. But she has pretty languag off: her description of the go mination is both one of the I and truest that we have eve (setting aside Dickens) the sa said of her Carnival Scenein is true, even to her own and Critical Notices. 1847.] Critical Notices. dress; and we doubt much, but that among her spolia opima, was a little basket of hon bons from our own hand. There is this sweet glimpse from the over-worked Coliseum : The sun search- ed with a delicious warmth the recesses of the Great Ruinthe blue sky roofed it in with tender glory, and looked with limpid clearness through the beautiful arches, as they ruse, tier above tier, into the morning air, and from every rift and crevice, and stony receptacle, where an inch of soil could lodge, curtains of exquisite wild spring floWers fell over the brown rich masses of masonry delicate garlands wound themselves around the bases of huge fallen columnsfull tufted bushes of dark green verdure rocked and swayed in the spring breath alon,, the ran,,es where the heroic Roman people had thronged the seats of their great slau,,hter house,and hi,,h up a~ainst the transparent sky, light feathery wands of blossom sprang from the. hu,,e walls, crowning the grim battlement with their most fra,,ile beauty. And this is as true as it is beautiful. Pleasant anecdotes lie scattered along the volume, which, Mrs. Butler had the good sense to perceive, would be needed, to relieve, nowadays, any book on Rome. Passionate lines of verse, too, are sown up and down, full of feeling, and her own feelin,, doubtlessbut for that very reason appearing a little unfavorably amid the general gossip of the book. We do not think the work will throw much new light on Italy, or on Italian characte., or that Mrs. Fanny expects as much; at the same time, there is in i~ a great deal of shrewd observation, mingled with the careless jottings of travel. We particularly commend, for its truthfulness, this paragraph on American women, hop. ing they will profit by it, and that Mrs. Butler, when she visits us, will add her powerful example to her amiable precept: Sn great and universal is the defer- ence paid to the weaker vessel, indeed, in the United States, that I think the fair Americans rather presume upon their pri- vileges; and I have seen ladies come into crowded steamboats and railroad cars, and instantly assume the seats, that have been as instantly resigned by gentlemen upon their entrance, without so much as a gra- cious word, or a leo/c of acknowledg- ment ; so certain is the understandin,, that every accommodation is not only to be furnished, but given up to them,and this not to young, pretty, ladies, but to Women old or young~ pretty or u~ly, of the highest or lowest class. Though the vir- tue on the part of the American men is certainly very great, I think it has made their women quite saucy in their suprem- acy, and altogether unblushing in their mode of claiming and receiving it. The Philosophy of Magic, and Apparent Miracles; French of ETYSEBE SALVE notes illustrative, explant critical, by ANTHONY TODD M.D., F.L.S., & c. In tw. Harper & Brothers. New Y The late Eusebe Salverte, a I~ tleman of Republican princig scholar of great learning and indeed, if we may trust Arago. him, one of the most learn our age, in languages, science, cal economy, undertook to e stories of miracles and prodigies ancient historians, in a philosof it; for a sceptical sneer, sub scientific explanation. We ha work with great attention, and set a very high value upon it philosophical production, likel finite service to science and lib ing. It is certainly en importa wards a better opinion of huma have relieved the great writers~ ty from the odium of falsehood fallen upon them, since, throuc coveries of modern times their of miracles and prodigies have b ceptionable or ridiculous. C rise from their tombs, they coul thank the learned Salverte for vice he has done their :reput this inenious and truly delight the Philosophy of Magic. Dr. Todd, the translator of I umes, has very judiciously omitt planations of scripture miracles. felt it my duty, says he, to from their pages every passage r the sacred volume, and at the san change somewhat the title of the substituting the words appar des, for miracles. It is well known that the I worked miracles by ma,,ic; but th of the Church believed this magi. demoniacal origin, and a trick of We have hut to read Salverte, stand that whatever ma,,ic they u have been grounded in practical try. Why the science of the ancien have fallen into oblivion, is also e If any one, says Salverte, sceptical regardin,, (the existence science of chemistry in the arcar temples,) he may convince hi reference to the analogy displayc progress of alchemy prior to th true chemistry, to have there a ty~ empirical manner in which the were studied, cultivated and fost the ancient temples. The priests after, and sometimes produced, astc phenomena; but neglecting the tF

The Philosophy of Magic, Prodigies, and Apparent Miracles; from the French of Eusebe Salverte. Anthony Todd Thomson Critical Notices 109-110

1847.] Critical Notices. dress; and we doubt much, but that among her spolia opima, was a little basket of hon bons from our own hand. There is this sweet glimpse from the over-worked Coliseum : The sun search- ed with a delicious warmth the recesses of the Great Ruinthe blue sky roofed it in with tender glory, and looked with limpid clearness through the beautiful arches, as they ruse, tier above tier, into the morning air, and from every rift and crevice, and stony receptacle, where an inch of soil could lodge, curtains of exquisite wild spring floWers fell over the brown rich masses of masonry delicate garlands wound themselves around the bases of huge fallen columnsfull tufted bushes of dark green verdure rocked and swayed in the spring breath alon,, the ran,,es where the heroic Roman people had thronged the seats of their great slau,,hter house,and hi,,h up a~ainst the transparent sky, light feathery wands of blossom sprang from the. hu,,e walls, crowning the grim battlement with their most fra,,ile beauty. And this is as true as it is beautiful. Pleasant anecdotes lie scattered along the volume, which, Mrs. Butler had the good sense to perceive, would be needed, to relieve, nowadays, any book on Rome. Passionate lines of verse, too, are sown up and down, full of feeling, and her own feelin,, doubtlessbut for that very reason appearing a little unfavorably amid the general gossip of the book. We do not think the work will throw much new light on Italy, or on Italian characte., or that Mrs. Fanny expects as much; at the same time, there is in i~ a great deal of shrewd observation, mingled with the careless jottings of travel. We particularly commend, for its truthfulness, this paragraph on American women, hop. ing they will profit by it, and that Mrs. Butler, when she visits us, will add her powerful example to her amiable precept: Sn great and universal is the defer- ence paid to the weaker vessel, indeed, in the United States, that I think the fair Americans rather presume upon their pri- vileges; and I have seen ladies come into crowded steamboats and railroad cars, and instantly assume the seats, that have been as instantly resigned by gentlemen upon their entrance, without so much as a gra- cious word, or a leo/c of acknowledg- ment ; so certain is the understandin,, that every accommodation is not only to be furnished, but given up to them,and this not to young, pretty, ladies, but to Women old or young~ pretty or u~ly, of the highest or lowest class. Though the vir- tue on the part of the American men is certainly very great, I think it has made their women quite saucy in their suprem- acy, and altogether unblushing in their mode of claiming and receiving it. The Philosophy of Magic, and Apparent Miracles; French of ETYSEBE SALVE notes illustrative, explant critical, by ANTHONY TODD M.D., F.L.S., & c. In tw. Harper & Brothers. New Y The late Eusebe Salverte, a I~ tleman of Republican princig scholar of great learning and indeed, if we may trust Arago. him, one of the most learn our age, in languages, science, cal economy, undertook to e stories of miracles and prodigies ancient historians, in a philosof it; for a sceptical sneer, sub scientific explanation. We ha work with great attention, and set a very high value upon it philosophical production, likel finite service to science and lib ing. It is certainly en importa wards a better opinion of huma have relieved the great writers~ ty from the odium of falsehood fallen upon them, since, throuc coveries of modern times their of miracles and prodigies have b ceptionable or ridiculous. C rise from their tombs, they coul thank the learned Salverte for vice he has done their :reput this inenious and truly delight the Philosophy of Magic. Dr. Todd, the translator of I umes, has very judiciously omitt planations of scripture miracles. felt it my duty, says he, to from their pages every passage r the sacred volume, and at the san change somewhat the title of the substituting the words appar des, for miracles. It is well known that the I worked miracles by ma,,ic; but th of the Church believed this magi. demoniacal origin, and a trick of We have hut to read Salverte, stand that whatever ma,,ic they u have been grounded in practical try. Why the science of the ancien have fallen into oblivion, is also e If any one, says Salverte, sceptical regardin,, (the existence science of chemistry in the arcar temples,) he may convince hi reference to the analogy displayc progress of alchemy prior to th true chemistry, to have there a ty~ empirical manner in which the were studied, cultivated and fost the ancient temples. The priests after, and sometimes produced, astc phenomena; but neglecting the tF 110 Critical Noticces. the principles, and preserving no record of the means employed, (every science is founded in its own history), they rare- ly succeeded twice in obtaining the same results ;and those which they did ob- tain, like the fireworks of old-fashioned chemical lecturers, were directed more to the eye than to the mind, and so contriv- ed as to astonish without enlightening. Their great object was to conceal the pro- cesses, and to retain exclusive possession of their secrets. The ancients, says Buffon, reduced all sciences to practice. All that did not immediately concern so- ciety, or the arts, was neglected; and, as they regarded man in the light of a moral being, they would not allow that things of no palpable utility were worthy of his at- tention. This universal precept was ap- plied in all its force to the study of occult science; but nothing was expected from the knowledge it imparted, except the power of working miracles. From such an utilitarian view, the conse- quence could only have been the acquire- ment of a partial knowledge, accompanied with great ignorance in other respects; and, in~tead of a science, whose connected parts so depend upon and su est one another that the utility of the whole effec- tually preserves the details from oblivion, every part held an isolated position, and ran the risk of being altogether lost; a danger rendered more probable every day by the increase of mystery.pp. 1878. In fine, the book is worth any mans time to read it, and contains nearly every- thing desirable to be known on the subject of the ancient superstitions, the temples and the arts of priest-craft. The Constitutional History of England, from the Accession of Henry VII to the Death of George IL: by HENRY HALLAM, Author of Europe in the Middle Ages, Si-c. (1 Vol., large 8vo.) New York: Harper & Brothers. 1847. It is almost useless to say anything in the small limits of a notice of such a work as Hallams Constitutional History. It is on the list of law studies as a primary book, to be read in connection with Black- stone. Those who mean to use it with advantage would do well to read their Blaclcstone first, and they will understand Hallam none the worse for it. The author is a decided monarchist, and treats the sectaries and Republicans with the great.. est contempt; yet for all that he is well read in the Parliamentary historians, and uses Cromwell with respect. is the reverse of anecdoticali ry of the forms of the Englis tion. 1844; or, The Power of A Taledeveloping the !se of Parties during the P Campaign of 1844. B DUNN ENGLISH. This ~book, as far as we ha seems to be an attempt to shi Whigs of New York Cityor part of themin the Electi endeavored to obtain a large votes here, by secret betting nary operations among the ga denizens of the lowest parts o in just the same manner as th~ the Mystery of Iniquity schemes to obtain false votes I entered into by the Democr degree of credit due to either readers can judge. The PG S. F. is told with some displays a talent for descripth not pleasant reading, for it d entirely with dissolute scenes acters worthless and abandon the devices of political hy chicane. History of the Conquest oft preliminary view of the C the Incas. By W. H. PREs. York. Harper & Brothers. Mr. Prescotts new work c just been issued in two sple from the press of the H English critics are heroic in an artistic and most powerfo turesquely written work. A Voyage up the River Am ing a Residence at Par LIAM H. EnwARns. Ne. These travels certainly g delightful and splendid regic We have always thought, wit that it is a matter of surprk who live upon the exciterr and telling some new th seldom betaken themselves tc continent. The book treats scenes, and is very pleasant may be made the occasion o view of the scenery and re~ magnificent country, whici known.

The Constitutional History of England, from the Accession of Henry VII to the Death of George II. Henry Hallam Critical Notices 110

110 Critical Noticces. the principles, and preserving no record of the means employed, (every science is founded in its own history), they rare- ly succeeded twice in obtaining the same results ;and those which they did ob- tain, like the fireworks of old-fashioned chemical lecturers, were directed more to the eye than to the mind, and so contriv- ed as to astonish without enlightening. Their great object was to conceal the pro- cesses, and to retain exclusive possession of their secrets. The ancients, says Buffon, reduced all sciences to practice. All that did not immediately concern so- ciety, or the arts, was neglected; and, as they regarded man in the light of a moral being, they would not allow that things of no palpable utility were worthy of his at- tention. This universal precept was ap- plied in all its force to the study of occult science; but nothing was expected from the knowledge it imparted, except the power of working miracles. From such an utilitarian view, the conse- quence could only have been the acquire- ment of a partial knowledge, accompanied with great ignorance in other respects; and, in~tead of a science, whose connected parts so depend upon and su est one another that the utility of the whole effec- tually preserves the details from oblivion, every part held an isolated position, and ran the risk of being altogether lost; a danger rendered more probable every day by the increase of mystery.pp. 1878. In fine, the book is worth any mans time to read it, and contains nearly every- thing desirable to be known on the subject of the ancient superstitions, the temples and the arts of priest-craft. The Constitutional History of England, from the Accession of Henry VII to the Death of George IL: by HENRY HALLAM, Author of Europe in the Middle Ages, Si-c. (1 Vol., large 8vo.) New York: Harper & Brothers. 1847. It is almost useless to say anything in the small limits of a notice of such a work as Hallams Constitutional History. It is on the list of law studies as a primary book, to be read in connection with Black- stone. Those who mean to use it with advantage would do well to read their Blaclcstone first, and they will understand Hallam none the worse for it. The author is a decided monarchist, and treats the sectaries and Republicans with the great.. est contempt; yet for all that he is well read in the Parliamentary historians, and uses Cromwell with respect. is the reverse of anecdoticali ry of the forms of the Englis tion. 1844; or, The Power of A Taledeveloping the !se of Parties during the P Campaign of 1844. B DUNN ENGLISH. This ~book, as far as we ha seems to be an attempt to shi Whigs of New York Cityor part of themin the Electi endeavored to obtain a large votes here, by secret betting nary operations among the ga denizens of the lowest parts o in just the same manner as th~ the Mystery of Iniquity schemes to obtain false votes I entered into by the Democr degree of credit due to either readers can judge. The PG S. F. is told with some displays a talent for descripth not pleasant reading, for it d entirely with dissolute scenes acters worthless and abandon the devices of political hy chicane. History of the Conquest oft preliminary view of the C the Incas. By W. H. PREs. York. Harper & Brothers. Mr. Prescotts new work c just been issued in two sple from the press of the H English critics are heroic in an artistic and most powerfo turesquely written work. A Voyage up the River Am ing a Residence at Par LIAM H. EnwARns. Ne. These travels certainly g delightful and splendid regic We have always thought, wit that it is a matter of surprk who live upon the exciterr and telling some new th seldom betaken themselves tc continent. The book treats scenes, and is very pleasant may be made the occasion o view of the scenery and re~ magnificent country, whici known.

1844; or, The Power of the S. F. A Tale - developing the secret action of Parties during the Presidential Campaign of 1844. Thomas Dunn English Critical Notices 110

110 Critical Noticces. the principles, and preserving no record of the means employed, (every science is founded in its own history), they rare- ly succeeded twice in obtaining the same results ;and those which they did ob- tain, like the fireworks of old-fashioned chemical lecturers, were directed more to the eye than to the mind, and so contriv- ed as to astonish without enlightening. Their great object was to conceal the pro- cesses, and to retain exclusive possession of their secrets. The ancients, says Buffon, reduced all sciences to practice. All that did not immediately concern so- ciety, or the arts, was neglected; and, as they regarded man in the light of a moral being, they would not allow that things of no palpable utility were worthy of his at- tention. This universal precept was ap- plied in all its force to the study of occult science; but nothing was expected from the knowledge it imparted, except the power of working miracles. From such an utilitarian view, the conse- quence could only have been the acquire- ment of a partial knowledge, accompanied with great ignorance in other respects; and, in~tead of a science, whose connected parts so depend upon and su est one another that the utility of the whole effec- tually preserves the details from oblivion, every part held an isolated position, and ran the risk of being altogether lost; a danger rendered more probable every day by the increase of mystery.pp. 1878. In fine, the book is worth any mans time to read it, and contains nearly every- thing desirable to be known on the subject of the ancient superstitions, the temples and the arts of priest-craft. The Constitutional History of England, from the Accession of Henry VII to the Death of George IL: by HENRY HALLAM, Author of Europe in the Middle Ages, Si-c. (1 Vol., large 8vo.) New York: Harper & Brothers. 1847. It is almost useless to say anything in the small limits of a notice of such a work as Hallams Constitutional History. It is on the list of law studies as a primary book, to be read in connection with Black- stone. Those who mean to use it with advantage would do well to read their Blaclcstone first, and they will understand Hallam none the worse for it. The author is a decided monarchist, and treats the sectaries and Republicans with the great.. est contempt; yet for all that he is well read in the Parliamentary historians, and uses Cromwell with respect. is the reverse of anecdoticali ry of the forms of the Englis tion. 1844; or, The Power of A Taledeveloping the !se of Parties during the P Campaign of 1844. B DUNN ENGLISH. This ~book, as far as we ha seems to be an attempt to shi Whigs of New York Cityor part of themin the Electi endeavored to obtain a large votes here, by secret betting nary operations among the ga denizens of the lowest parts o in just the same manner as th~ the Mystery of Iniquity schemes to obtain false votes I entered into by the Democr degree of credit due to either readers can judge. The PG S. F. is told with some displays a talent for descripth not pleasant reading, for it d entirely with dissolute scenes acters worthless and abandon the devices of political hy chicane. History of the Conquest oft preliminary view of the C the Incas. By W. H. PREs. York. Harper & Brothers. Mr. Prescotts new work c just been issued in two sple from the press of the H English critics are heroic in an artistic and most powerfo turesquely written work. A Voyage up the River Am ing a Residence at Par LIAM H. EnwARns. Ne. These travels certainly g delightful and splendid regic We have always thought, wit that it is a matter of surprk who live upon the exciterr and telling some new th seldom betaken themselves tc continent. The book treats scenes, and is very pleasant may be made the occasion o view of the scenery and re~ magnificent country, whici known.

History of the Conquest of Peru, with a preliminary view of the Civilization of the Incas. W. H. Prescott Critical Notices 110

110 Critical Noticces. the principles, and preserving no record of the means employed, (every science is founded in its own history), they rare- ly succeeded twice in obtaining the same results ;and those which they did ob- tain, like the fireworks of old-fashioned chemical lecturers, were directed more to the eye than to the mind, and so contriv- ed as to astonish without enlightening. Their great object was to conceal the pro- cesses, and to retain exclusive possession of their secrets. The ancients, says Buffon, reduced all sciences to practice. All that did not immediately concern so- ciety, or the arts, was neglected; and, as they regarded man in the light of a moral being, they would not allow that things of no palpable utility were worthy of his at- tention. This universal precept was ap- plied in all its force to the study of occult science; but nothing was expected from the knowledge it imparted, except the power of working miracles. From such an utilitarian view, the conse- quence could only have been the acquire- ment of a partial knowledge, accompanied with great ignorance in other respects; and, in~tead of a science, whose connected parts so depend upon and su est one another that the utility of the whole effec- tually preserves the details from oblivion, every part held an isolated position, and ran the risk of being altogether lost; a danger rendered more probable every day by the increase of mystery.pp. 1878. In fine, the book is worth any mans time to read it, and contains nearly every- thing desirable to be known on the subject of the ancient superstitions, the temples and the arts of priest-craft. The Constitutional History of England, from the Accession of Henry VII to the Death of George IL: by HENRY HALLAM, Author of Europe in the Middle Ages, Si-c. (1 Vol., large 8vo.) New York: Harper & Brothers. 1847. It is almost useless to say anything in the small limits of a notice of such a work as Hallams Constitutional History. It is on the list of law studies as a primary book, to be read in connection with Black- stone. Those who mean to use it with advantage would do well to read their Blaclcstone first, and they will understand Hallam none the worse for it. The author is a decided monarchist, and treats the sectaries and Republicans with the great.. est contempt; yet for all that he is well read in the Parliamentary historians, and uses Cromwell with respect. is the reverse of anecdoticali ry of the forms of the Englis tion. 1844; or, The Power of A Taledeveloping the !se of Parties during the P Campaign of 1844. B DUNN ENGLISH. This ~book, as far as we ha seems to be an attempt to shi Whigs of New York Cityor part of themin the Electi endeavored to obtain a large votes here, by secret betting nary operations among the ga denizens of the lowest parts o in just the same manner as th~ the Mystery of Iniquity schemes to obtain false votes I entered into by the Democr degree of credit due to either readers can judge. The PG S. F. is told with some displays a talent for descripth not pleasant reading, for it d entirely with dissolute scenes acters worthless and abandon the devices of political hy chicane. History of the Conquest oft preliminary view of the C the Incas. By W. H. PREs. York. Harper & Brothers. Mr. Prescotts new work c just been issued in two sple from the press of the H English critics are heroic in an artistic and most powerfo turesquely written work. A Voyage up the River Am ing a Residence at Par LIAM H. EnwARns. Ne. These travels certainly g delightful and splendid regic We have always thought, wit that it is a matter of surprk who live upon the exciterr and telling some new th seldom betaken themselves tc continent. The book treats scenes, and is very pleasant may be made the occasion o view of the scenery and re~ magnificent country, whici known.

A Voyage up the River Amazon. William H. Edwards Critical Notices 110

110 Critical Noticces. the principles, and preserving no record of the means employed, (every science is founded in its own history), they rare- ly succeeded twice in obtaining the same results ;and those which they did ob- tain, like the fireworks of old-fashioned chemical lecturers, were directed more to the eye than to the mind, and so contriv- ed as to astonish without enlightening. Their great object was to conceal the pro- cesses, and to retain exclusive possession of their secrets. The ancients, says Buffon, reduced all sciences to practice. All that did not immediately concern so- ciety, or the arts, was neglected; and, as they regarded man in the light of a moral being, they would not allow that things of no palpable utility were worthy of his at- tention. This universal precept was ap- plied in all its force to the study of occult science; but nothing was expected from the knowledge it imparted, except the power of working miracles. From such an utilitarian view, the conse- quence could only have been the acquire- ment of a partial knowledge, accompanied with great ignorance in other respects; and, in~tead of a science, whose connected parts so depend upon and su est one another that the utility of the whole effec- tually preserves the details from oblivion, every part held an isolated position, and ran the risk of being altogether lost; a danger rendered more probable every day by the increase of mystery.pp. 1878. In fine, the book is worth any mans time to read it, and contains nearly every- thing desirable to be known on the subject of the ancient superstitions, the temples and the arts of priest-craft. The Constitutional History of England, from the Accession of Henry VII to the Death of George IL: by HENRY HALLAM, Author of Europe in the Middle Ages, Si-c. (1 Vol., large 8vo.) New York: Harper & Brothers. 1847. It is almost useless to say anything in the small limits of a notice of such a work as Hallams Constitutional History. It is on the list of law studies as a primary book, to be read in connection with Black- stone. Those who mean to use it with advantage would do well to read their Blaclcstone first, and they will understand Hallam none the worse for it. The author is a decided monarchist, and treats the sectaries and Republicans with the great.. est contempt; yet for all that he is well read in the Parliamentary historians, and uses Cromwell with respect. is the reverse of anecdoticali ry of the forms of the Englis tion. 1844; or, The Power of A Taledeveloping the !se of Parties during the P Campaign of 1844. B DUNN ENGLISH. This ~book, as far as we ha seems to be an attempt to shi Whigs of New York Cityor part of themin the Electi endeavored to obtain a large votes here, by secret betting nary operations among the ga denizens of the lowest parts o in just the same manner as th~ the Mystery of Iniquity schemes to obtain false votes I entered into by the Democr degree of credit due to either readers can judge. The PG S. F. is told with some displays a talent for descripth not pleasant reading, for it d entirely with dissolute scenes acters worthless and abandon the devices of political hy chicane. History of the Conquest oft preliminary view of the C the Incas. By W. H. PREs. York. Harper & Brothers. Mr. Prescotts new work c just been issued in two sple from the press of the H English critics are heroic in an artistic and most powerfo turesquely written work. A Voyage up the River Am ing a Residence at Par LIAM H. EnwARns. Ne. These travels certainly g delightful and splendid regic We have always thought, wit that it is a matter of surprk who live upon the exciterr and telling some new th seldom betaken themselves tc continent. The book treats scenes, and is very pleasant may be made the occasion o view of the scenery and re~ magnificent country, whici known.

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The American Whig review. / Volume 6, Issue 2 American review; a Whig journal of politics, literature, art, and science Wiley and Putnam, etc. New York Aug 1847 0006 002
The Chicago Convention 111-122

THE AMERICAN REVIEW: A WHIG JOURNAL OF POLITICS, LITERATURE, ART AND SCIET AUGUST, 1847. THE CHICAGO CONVENTION. AMONG the marked occurrences of the month which has just elapsed, the assembling of this Convention will hold a prominent rank, as well from the ex- tent and importance of the objects which prompted it, and the extraordinary num- bers who attended it, as from the entire unanimity, yet withal decisiveness, of the voice it uttered; the principles it holds forth, and the organization which it adopted to carry those principles out, and to render them living and operative in the future political contests of the Union. It falls, therefore, quite within the scope of a Review which professes to give a living impress of leading political events, and especially of such as may be supposed specially to illustrate and ad- vance the political principles which it is alike our duty and our pride to inculcate and sustain, to render some account of this great Convention, so thoroughly whig in its aims, although studiously and designedly divested of any mere party organization. The new states of the west, as well those around the great lakes as those in the valley of the Mississipi, had becom~ impatient under the repeated disappoint- ments of their just expectations of aid from the federal government, towards the improvement of the rivers and harbors, upon the secure and uninterrupted na- vigation of which, the growth and pros- perity of those states, and necessarily, therefore, the growth and prosperity of the whole country, so materially depend. In a former number of this Revi. pointed out the rash and unjustifia made by successive Presidents of 1 power, in order to defeat the app tions for those rivers and harbors by both Houses of Congress, and v, tured even then to assume that eve. the whole region interested in su. provements, would necessarily be to unite, as upon the one great c interest, in such a determined line licy, as would compel from candid~ public favor, a compliance with 1 sonable wishes, at once, and obvi. terests, of those states. At an earlier day, and in a mm. sive form than we anticipated, this has been taken. The idea of a general convent! which delegates should be invited present from all the States in the which felt interested in extendi means and facilities of intercom tween the fertile xvest and the A coast, had long been floating in the mind. A fixed form and character given to it ~t a meeting, accidental hastily gathered, of Western m~ Rathbuns Hotel, in New York, i~ tember of last year, and then it v. solved that a convention should b ed to assemble, during the presen mer, either at some city on the lak in the Mississippi valley. The suggestion was well rec alike on the sea-board and in thtrir and Chicago and St. Louis compet VOL. VI. NC 112 The Chicago Convention. the honour of holding and entertaining such a convention. Considerations of greater accessibility from the north and east, decided the choice in favour of Chicago, and St. Louis gracefully yielded her claim, and lent all her influence to- wards rendering the assemblage in Chi- cago as imposing as possible, alike by numbers, and by the character and intel- ligence of the delegates. Chicago, a city of yesterday, as it were, springing from the wilderness within the last fifteen years, entered at once with earnestness, and in a liberal spirit, upon the work. A committee of its leading citizens, without distinction of party, prepared the programme of the Conven- tion, appointed the time, and addressed invitations to prominent friends of the cause, throughout the Union, urging their attendance and assuring them of a welcome. The fire spreadand in sev- enteen states and territories, meetings were held, and delegates were appointed to attend the North Western Harbor and River Convention, to be held at Chi.. cago, on the 5th July ; and from all these states and territories delegations did attend. At the time appointed, Chi- cago, which is a city of some 15,000 in- habitants, found itself literally besieged by an army of delegates, arriving at its call, to co-operate with it in such mea- sures as should be deemed wisest and best for the promotion of a great common cause. So great was the number, that up to the day of committing the~e lines to the press, no official return had been made of them. They were variously computed at from 3 to 4000, and they were deputed by the following states and territories Maine Illinois Massachusetts Michigan Rhode Island Jowa Connecticut Wisconsin New York Missouri New Jersey Kentucky Pennsylvania Georgia Ohio Florida Indiana The delegates from states around the lakes were numbered by hundreds those from more distant states by tens and by units; but it was early agreed upon, as one of the rules of proceeding in the Convention, that on all contested questions the voting should be by states, according to the vote of each in the elec- toral collegeand the respective dele- gates were requested, as a preliminary to the full organization of I to (tesignate each its fore the vote of the state sho casions be cast. It may as decisive of the subseqi of the Convention, that a red, during the whole where a resort to division necessaryall questions carried by acclamation almost to absolute unanin Jt would be no ungrat. writer, who was one of th delegated body, to des length here, the admirabl tasteful arrangements ma zens of Chicago for the and due entertainment of attracted by such an oc city, but the requisite sj we are well aware, be s~ columns of the Review. however, that nothing c arranged, or better adapte. view, than the preparatic modation for the Convent assembled as a body, ar tered amongst the various vate houses in the town. tent, lofty spacious and ai in the public square, and V placed temporary benchc. seating more than 3000 pe side was raised an elevater the presiding officers, spc porters, and all around w The day named for the the Convention, the fifth on Monday, the commew national anniversary was blended with the ceremon rating ihis, in its true a National Conventionan lustre and interest from th. whole population of th. counties of Illinois seeme into Chicago for the occasi honorable indeed was the. dense crowd. Under a bu amid all the natural excite berance of spirits on this occasion, it was the obse~ that no indecorum, no intc wrangling, were any w heard. The military pag. mens pageantthe latter for admirable keeping and c civil pageant, all swept pa. accident to mar, or an exce~ great holiday. The whole parade was 1847.] The Chicago Convention. and dismissed at the public square, where the Convention was to assemble: and ac- cordingly there they did assemble, about 12 oclock. The Mayor of Chicago, Hon. James Curtis, opened the proceed- ings in a very pertinent, brief, and well- delivered address, welcoming the Con- vention to the city, and expressing in its name the gratification felt by all her citizens that Chicago had been selected as the place of meeting. The Convention was then temporarily organized by choosing, as chairman, Jas. L. Barton, of Buffalo. This gentle- man, being connected and thoroughly conversant with the lake trade, its com- mencement, progress, difficulties, and de- lays, had contributed as much probably as any one individual, by a letter published in the preceding year, and addressed to the Chairman of the Committee on Com- merce in the House of Representatives, to arouse attention to the claims and merits of the lakes, by the statistics he first gathered and set forth, in an authen- tic form, of the extent of that commerce of the likes, and of the calamities to which it was subject, for want of suffi- cient harbors. His selection as temporary president was therefore a fit tribute to important services. At his suggestion the blessing of Heaven was invoked upon the deliberations of the Convention, by the Rev. W. Allen, a delegate from Massachusetts, and formerly president of Bowdoin College; and then these rules for the government of the Conven- tion were adopted: 1. The states shall be called over, and the delegations through one of their number shall report a written list of the names of their delegates in attendance from each state and territory, giving their locality as far as practicable. 2. A committee of one from each state and territory, (to be designated by the delegation thereof,) shall be appoint- ed to report to the Convention officers for its government, rules for its conduct, and the order of its business. 3. Upon a division being called for on any question, the delegation of each state and territory shall be entitled to cast the vote of the state or territory, ac- cording to its representation in the fede- ral government. Territories to be enti- tied to four votes. 4. Each delegation is requested to appoint one of their number to respond to the chair in castino- the y state or territory. ~ ote of their Mr. Field, of N. Y., requ the propositions be put separat was agreed to. On motion of Solon Robint the reports of delegates were until after the permanent orgar the Convention. A committee of one from ea. tion was then appointed by the dele~, ations to report permane of the Convention, rules for it~ ings, & c. The Convention too till four oclock in the afternoon On re-assembling, the com nominations not being ready calls were made on several pers dress the Convention, and the Allen, Mr. Senator Corwin, a answered the call, and kept the in good humour till the commi in with their report. That rep. the nominations, was un~ adopted, and the convention w nently organized forthwith as f President. EDWARD BATES, of 1ii Vice Presidents. John A. Brockway, Cor J. G. Camp, Florida. T. B. King, Ga. E. XV. L. Ellis, md. W. Woodbridge, Mich. E. Corning, N. Y. L. Kirkpatrick, N. J. Gov. Bibb, Ohio. A. XV. Loomis, Pa. Mr. Hoppin, R. Island. J. H. Tweedy, Wis. A. W. Watkins, Missot Judge Williams, Iowa. Charles Hempstead, Ill. M. A. Chandler, Maine. W. P. Eustis, Mass. & cretarzes. Scbuyler Colfax, Ta. N. E. Edwards, Illinois. F. XV. Fenno, N. Y. A. B. Chambers, Mo. Aaron Hobart, Mass. David Noble, Mich. Petei McMartin, N. J~ N. XXV. Otis, Ohio. Frederick S. Lovell, WTi: H. W. Starr, Iowa. The committee then furthe~ rules of proceeding for the Co mode of conducting business, & the form of separate resolutions. and earnest debate ensued upon of the report, which resulted 114 The Chicago Conve tion. tially in the adoption of parliamentary rules of proceeding, as those by which the Convention would be governed, and of the recommendation that one from each state, to be named by the chair- man, prepare resolutions to he sub- roitted to the Convention, expressive of its views and aims. When this was done, the meeting adjourned to next morning at nine oclock. Accordingly on Tuesday the Conven- tion re-assembled, and as the committee on resolutions was not prepared to re- port, the letters of various distinguished men invited to attend the Convention, but who had excused themselves, were called for and read. Of these we do not think it essential to give all; hut some, either from their own peculiarities or those of the writer, or from his high standing, we deem it right to embody in this re- cord. They are annexed Marshfleld, June 26, 1847. Centlemen1 am quite obliged to you for your very kind and respectful letter, addressed to me at Nashvitle, inviting me to attend the Chicago Convention, if my health had allowed me to continue the journey which I was then prosecuting, it would have brought me into the north-west in time to have been with you the 1st of July; but being compelled, by illness, to abandon the purpose of getting over the mountains, it was of course not in my power to attend the Convention. You speak, gentlemen, in terms of too much commenrlation, I fear, of my efforts in the cause of internal and western im- provement. I can only say that those efforts have been earnest, lo%-continued, and made from the single desire of pro- moting the gre~t interests of the country. Of the power of the government to make ai)propriations for erecting harbors and clearing rivers, I never entertained a par- ticle of doubt. This power, in my judg- ment, is not partial, limited, obscure, ap- plicable to some uses, and not applicable to others, to some states, and not to others, to some rivers, and not to others, as seems to have been the opinion of gentiemencon- nected with the Memphis Convention. For one, I reject all such farletched and unnatural distinctions. In my opinion the authority of the government, in this re- spect, rests directly on the grant of the commercial power to Congress ; and this has been so understood from the beginning by the wisest and best men, who have been concerned in the administration of the government; and is consaquently general, and limited only by the importance of each particular subject, and the discretion of Congress. I hope the Convention m good, by enforcing the neces cising these just powers of ment. There are no new in new constructions or qualiflc~ constitutional power to be there is no new political path outIt is simply for the p whether prejudice, party pr and party opposition, shall, at way to fair reasoning, to pi experience, to the judgment men who have gone before us, momentous considerations ot terest, which now so iropera Congress to do its duty. 1 an with much re~ ard, Your obliged friend and fel DAN. To Messrs. S. Lisle Smith, terfield, and others. L~TT R FROM GOV. w Canton, Ma CentlemenYour circular to attend a North-western River Convention, to he Chicago, on the first Mor next, was duly received, for~ Whiting, of your committee. My attention had been pre to the subject by the invitati at your city, to attend the Co generously tendering me qe family during its sittings. from the state of my privatc inform him that I could noti ney at the time named; an which has elapsed since 1 dr vitation, has only tended to conclusion pronounced to hi Wd~e it possible for me proposod Convention, within sonable~ sacrifice, I should n so, as roy location gives me ing in r~ference to the p safety of the commerce of th subject of the improvernen harbors is one which my so gress has rendered somewli me in a legislative aspect, sond travel upon the two lo made the necessity for these manifest to my senses. I am aware that question tional powers have been ral ence to appropriations of m gress to the improvemnient harbors, and I ann welt convi est men have sincerely entc scruples upon this point: b servations and experience ha to believe that these scrupi individual admits the pow the Atlantic harbors, arise of an acquaintance with ii the commerce upon them, a 1847.] to believe the facts in relation to that com- merce, when truly stated. It is not easy for one f~miliar with the lakes and lake commerce, to realize the de0ree of incre- dulity as to the magnitude and importance of both, which is found in the minds of honest and well-informed men residing in remote portions of the Union, and having no acquaintance with either; while I do not recollect an instance of a member of Con0ress, who has travelled the lakes, and observed the commerce upon them, within the last ten years, requiring any further evidence or argument to induce him to admit the constitutional power, and the propriety, of appropriations for lake har- bors, as much as for those of the Atlantic coast. I have bean of opinion, therefore, that to impress the minds of the people, of all portions of the Union, with a realizing sense of the facts, as they are, in relation to these inland seas, and their already vast and rapidly-increasing commerce, would be all that is required to secure such ap- propriations as the state of the national treasury will, from time to time, hermit for the improvement of lake harbors. I mean the improvement of such harbors as the body of lake commerce requires for its convenience and safety, as contradistin. guished from the numerous applications for these improvements, which the va- rious conflicting local interests upon the shores of the lakes, may prompt; and I make this distinction, because my own observation has shown that applications for harbor improvements, at the public expense, are made and pressed, within dis- tances of a very few miles, and at loca- tions where., from the natural position of the lake and coast, a good harbor at either point would secure to the commerce of the lake all the convenience and security of duplicate improvements. Much of the difficulty of obtaininj appropriations, grows out of these conflicting applications; and the sternness with which all are press- ed as necessary to lake commerce, impairs the confidence of strangers to the local claims and interests, in the importance of all. It is the duty of those who urge these improvements, for the great object for which alone they should be made at the expense of the nation, viz: the conveni- ence and safety of lake commerce, to he honest with Congress, and to urge appro- priations only at points where these con- siderations demand them. The river improvements constitute a much more difficult subject, and the con- nexion of them with the lake harbors has often, to my knowledge, fatally prejudiced the former. There are applications for improvements of rivers, about which, as a matter of principle and constitutional power, I have no more doubt than about The Chicago Conuenlion. the harbors upon the lakes or th coast, and there are those whic judgment, come neither within ciple nor the constitutional poxv~ draw a line between two classc I cannot. I have witnessed nui tempts to do this, but none of I appeared very sound or very The facts and circumstances ar between the various applicatie doubt whether any general ru laid down, which will be foun practical; and I think the co likely to secure a satisfactory re the least danger to the violation ple, would be for Congress to rately and independently upon e cation. There has appeared t broad distinction between the which has not always been reac which, I think, always should between the applications to pr secure the safety of commerce u where it exists, and is regularly~ in defiance of the obstructions be removed, and in the face of gers they place in its ~ay; and plications which ask the improv rivers, that commerce may be upon them, where it is not. class appear to me to ask Congr ulate and protect commerce up where commerce in fact exists, other to create it upon rivers xvh~ not exist. This distinction, if observed, might aid in determin applications of both classes, but sufficient dividing line for pract- lation, if it is for the settleme principle upon which all such tions should rest. I use the tern merce in this definition, as I d letter, in its constitutional scope. I must ask your pardon, gentl. troubling you with so long an communication, in reply to your is not made for any public use, b press to you very imperfectly 50i views upon the interesting suW bring to my notice, which I shall the pleasure of communicating and to satisfy you that I am not ii to your request. Be pleased to accept my thanks polite invitation, and to believe o Your very respectful and obt a SILAs W To Messrs. N. B. Judd, and others, Committee, & c. & c. LETTER FROM HON. THOMAS H. At a meeting of the Delegation ed to attend the Chicago Convents at the Planters House, on Satu~ 26th of June. F. M. Haight, Esq. Chair, James E. Yeatman, Esq., ~:: 116 The Chicago Convention. the following letter from the Hon. Thomas H. Benton, which was read, approved, and ordered to be printed with the report of this Delegation: GENTLEMEN :In my brief note, ad- dressed to you on my return from Jefferson City, I expressed the gratification I should have felt in going with the St. Louis Dele- gation to the Chicago Convention, and made known the reason which would pre- vent me from having that pleasure. The Lake and River navigation of the Great West, to promote which the Con- vention is called, very early had a share of my attention, and I never had a doubt of the constitutionality or expediency of bringing that navigation within the circle of internal improvement by the Federal Government, when the object to he im- proved should be one of general and na- tional importance. The jnnction of the two great systems of waters, which occupy so much of our countrythe northern lakes on one hand, and the Mississippi river and its tributaries on the otherappeared to me to be an object of that character, and Chicago the proper point for effecting the union; and near thirty years ago I wrote and published articles in a St. Louis newspaper, in favor of that object, indicated and accomplished by nature herself, and wanting but a help- ing hand from man to complete it. Arti- cles in the St. Louis Enquirer of April, 1819, express the opinions which I then entertained, and the report~~ of that period, published in the same paper, to the Secretary of War, by Messrs. Graham and Phillips, in favor of that canal (and which report I wrote) was probably the first formal communication, upon authen- tic data, in favor of the Chicago canal. These gentlemen, with Mr. John C. Sulli- van, of Missouri, had been appointed by the Secretary of War to run a line from the south end of Lake Michigan to the Mississippi. I proposed to them to exam- ine the ground between Chicago and the head waters of the Illinois river, with a view to the construction of a canal by the Federal Government. They did so, and on their return to St. Louis, submitted all their observations to me; and hence the publication in the newspapers, and the report to the Secretary at War. I mention this to show that my opinions on this sub- ject are of long standing; and that the na- tionality of the Chicago canal, and, of course, of the harbor at its mouth, are by no means new conceptions with me. But, I must confess I did not foreseethen what I have since seenthe Falls of Niagara surmounted by a ship canal! and a schooner clearing from Chicago for Liverpool! The river navigation of the Great West is the most wonderful on the globe; and since the application of steam p propulsion of vessels, possesse tial qualities of ocean navigatic distance, cheapness, magnitude are all there, and without the sea from storms and enemies. boat is the ship of the river, the Mississipi and its tributari. plest theatre for the diffusion and the display of its power. river! connecting with seas and by the mouthstretching wards the Atlantic and the Pa in a valley, which is a valie, Gulf of Mexico to Hudsons Ba its first waters, not from ru~ tame, but from a plateau of I centre of the continent iind ir cation with the sources of th rence and the streams which course north to Hudsons Ba~ the largest extent of richest lar ing the products of every dim frigid, to bear the whole to a ket in the sunny south, and th. the products of the entire worl the Mississippi! And who ca the aggregate of its advantag magnitude of its future corn sults? Many years ago the late Gov. and myself undertook to ca extent of the boatable water in of the Mississippi. We ma 50,000 miles! of which 30,000 puted to unite above St. Louis, below. Of course we counted fant streams, on which a flat, batteau could be floated; and every tributary, of the humblc character, helps to swell nc volume of the central waters, commerce upon them. Of thi extent of river navigation, all into one system of waters, St. I centre! and the entrepot of presenting even now, in its astonishing and almost incredB of commerce, destined to incre It is considered an inland town. by time and money, the only tr cial measures of distances, and nearer to the sea than New C before a steam tow-boat abrich tance between that city and tl~ the Mississippi. St. Louis is a well as an inland city, and is a livery by law, and has collect. of duties on foreign imports current year: and with a lib law would become a great eretr~ eign as well as of domestic With the attributes and charact sea-port, she is entitled to the one, as fully and as clearly as or New Orleans. About twenty years ago I mc. 1847.1 The Chicago Convention. Senate, and obtained an appropriation for a survey of the Rapids of Upper Missis- sippi: it was probably the first appropria- tion ever obtained for the improvement of the upper part of the river. About twen- ty-five years ago I moved, and succeeded in the motion, to include the Missouri river in a bill for the improvement of the western rivers: it was the first time that river had been so included. Thus, on the important items of the Chicago canal, the rapids of upper Mississippi, and the Mis- souri river, 1 was the first to propose to include them within the circle of internal improvement by the Federal Government. I had always been a friend to that system, but not to its abuse! and here lies the dif- ficulty, and the danger, and the stumbling block to its success. Objects of general and national importance can alone claim the aid of the Federal Government; and an favour of such objects I believe all the departments of the government to be unit- ed. Confined to them, and the constitu- tion can reach them, and the treasury sus- tain them. Extended to local or sectional objects, and neither the constitution nor the treasury can uphold them. National objects of improvement are few in number, definite in character, and manageable by the treasury. Near twenty years ago the treasury was threatened with a (lemand for two hundred millions of dollars for objects of internal improvement, then applied for, and many of them of no national import- ance. The enormity of the sum balked the system; and so it must be again, if the proper discrimination is not kept up be- tween local and national objects. It is for Congress to make that discrimination; t~e President cannot; he must reject or ap- prove the bill as a whole. Here, then, is the point at which the friends of the sys- tem in Congress must exert all their care and vigilance. No arbitrary rule can be given for the admission or exclusion of proper objects ; but really national objects admit of no dispute, and confined to them, I apprehend but little danger of losing a bill, either from Executive vetoes, or for want of votes in Congress. Very respectfully, gentlemen, your friend and fellow-citizen, THOMA5 H. BENTON. LETTER FROM MR. VAN ETYREN. Lindenwald, May 21st, 1847. My Dear Sir,l thank you kindly for the obliging terms in which you have been pleased to communicate to me the invita- tion of the committee to attend the North- Western Harbor and River Convention, and beg you to be assured that you do me but justice in assuming that I am by no means indifferent to its objects. Having visited most parts of your inter- esting country, I witnessed w tion and high hopes its peculiar for improvement. I cannot but cess to all constitutional effc; have that direction. Regretting that it will not power to comply with your req. you to make my acknowledgmc Committee for this proof of the I am very respectfully and tin M. VAN E. W. Tracey, Esq. LETTER FROM GEN. cA Detroit, May 2~ Dear Sir,I am obliged to yo kind attention in transmitting m tation to attend the Convention c Improvement, which will meet in July. Circumstances, how put it out of my power to be - that time. I am, dear sir, respectfully~ Lzw W. L. Whiting, Esq. LETTER FROM MR. CLA Ashland, 24th May Dear Sir,I received your fri ter, accompanied by the circu Committee, requesting my atte the North-Western Harbor and V vention, proposed to be held in on the first Monday in July nex- ally concurring in what is annon the object of that Convention, I happy to assist in the accompli& it, if it were in my power; but that I cannot conveniently attend vention. Wishing that its del may be conducted in a spirit of and that they may lead to good results, I am, with great respect, Your obedient serva H. E. W. Tracey, Esq. The reception given to thee was discriminating. Met them: thousands for a common ob quite in earnest about it, the C were little disposed to be trifled mystified, by those who had be to participate in its deliberation. state of feeling was accordingi fested in the most significa ner, as the letters were read. they expressed sympathy with jects in view, and a desire to cc to the constitutional limits, in ing those objects, they were welcomed; and even the egotism Bentonsthe very staple of his ter, and clue to all his thoughts 118 did not prevent the acknowledgments due to the earnest interest manifested in the common cause. So, too, the com- mon-places of Mr. Van Buren, seeing that he also seemed to have some views in common with the assembly, were received with civility; but the inexpli- cable letter of Mr. Cass, which alludes in no manner to the purposes of the Convention, nor to his own opinions respecting those purposes, nor to the deep interest taken in them by the mul- titude assembled on this occasion, which was indeed cold and formal as any note declining a disagreeable invitation could be, was received at first with incredu- bus surprise, and then (when assured by a second reading, clamorously called for, that the note, and the whole note, was before them,) with such a shout of derision as no public man can survive, or should provoke. Identified by position. with all the objects of that Convention, belonging to the state of Michigan, which is mostly a long peninsula, as our readers ~tnow; having thousands of miles of unprotected lake coastit was reasonably assumed that of all the public men who might attend, or be invited to attend at Chicago, no one would more certainly, and from knowledge, sympa- thize with its views, than Mr. Cass; how this gentleman should have mista- ken the duties and exigencies of his position, to a degree manifested by that letter, seems difficult to comprehend. It was a mistake, however, irrevocable, potent, and which will be remembered to his damage by the whole lake and river country. The Convention after waiting awhile for the committee on resolutions, took a recess till the afternoon. On re-assem- bling, that committee was prepared with its report, which consisted of the admira- ble series of propositions hereto annexed: The Convention submits to their fel- low-citizens, and to the Federal Govern- me~t, the following propositions, as ex- pressing their own sentiments, and those of their constituents. First,That the rConstitution of the United States was framed by practical men, for practical purposes, declared in the pre- amble. To provide for the common de- fence, to promote the general welfare~ and to secure the blessings of liberty; and was mainly designed to create a government, whose functions should be adequate to the protection of the common interests of all the States, or of two or more of them, which could not be maintained by the ac The Chicago Convention. tion of the separate states. Tb accordance with this object, thr derived from commerce, were s to the general government, wit press understanding that they applied to the promotion of tho~ interests. 2ndThat among these c( terests and objects, wereist Commerce, to the regulation of powers of the states severally fessedly inadequate; and, 2d trade and navigation, wherever rence of two or more states, was to its prosecution, or where th of its maintenance should be borne by two or more states, am course, those states must nece~ a voice in its regulation; and hc ed the constitutional grant of Congress, to regulate comm foreign nations, and among the 3d.That being thus possc of the means and of the pow were denied to the states re Congress became obligated by sideration of good faith and cm tice, to cherish and increase boti of commerce thus committed t by expanding and extending the conducting them, and of affordir those facilities, and that protect the states individually would h~ ed, had the revenues and auth left to them. 4thThat this obligation been recognized from the founds~ government, and has been fulfil1 ly, by erecting light-houses, bui for harbors, break-waters and removing obstructions in rivers, viding other facilities for the carried on from the ports on th coast; and the same obligations fulfilled to a much less extent, ii similar facilities for commerce states; and that the principl mQst emphatically acknowledg brace the western lakes and appropriations for numerous li upon them, which appropria never been questioned in Co wanting in constitutional autho 5thThat thus, by a ser which have received the sancr people of the United States, an department of the Federal G under all administrations, the c derstanding of the intent and ob framers of the Constitution, in Congress the power to regulate has been confirmed by the peop understanding has become as m of that instrument, as any one explicit provisions, t3th.That the power to reg merce with foreign nations, and 1847.] The Chicago Convention. states, and with the Indian tribes, is, on its face so palpably applicable in its whole extent to each of the subjects enumerated equally, and in the same manner, as to render any attempt to make it more expli- cit, idle, and futile, and that those who ad- mit the rightful application of the power to foreign commerce,by facilitating and pro- tecting its operations by improving harbors, and clearing out navigable rivers, cannot consistently deny that it authorises similar facilities to commerce among the States. 7th.That Foreign Commerce itself is dependent upon internal trade, for the distribution of its freights, and for the means of paying for them; so that what- ever improves the one advances the other; and they are so inseparable, that they should he regarded as one. That an export from the American shore, to a British port in Canada, is as much foreign commerce as if it had been carried directly to Liverpool; and that an exportation to Liverpool nei- ther gains nor loses any of the characteris- tics of foreign commerce, by the directness or circuity of the route, whether it pass- es through a custom-house on the British side of the St. Lawrence, or descend, through-that river and its connecting canals, to the ocean, or whether it passes along the artificial communications and natural streams of any of the states to the Atlan- tic. 8thThat the general government by extending its jurisdiction over the lakes and navigable rivers, subjecting them to the same laws which prevail on the ocean, and on its bays and ports, not only for the purpose of revenue, but to give security to life and property, by the regulation of steamboats, has precluded itself from 4eny- ing that jurisdiction for any other legiti- mate ~regulation of commerce. If it has power to control and restrain, it must have power to protect, assist, and facilitate, and if it denies the jurisdiction in the one mode of action, it must renounce it in the other. 9th.That in consequence of the pe- culiar dangers of the navigation of the Lakes, arising from the want of harbors for shelter, and of the Western rivers, from snags and other obstructions, there are no parts of the United States more emphati- cally demanding the prompt and contin- ued care of the Government, to diminish those dangers, and to protect the property and life exposed to them; and that any one who can regard provisions for those purposes as sectional, local, and not na- tional, must be wanting in information as to the extent of the commerce carried on upon those lakes and rivers, and of the amount of teeming population occupied or interested in that navigaton. 10thThat having regard to relative population, and to the extent of commerce, the appropriations heretofore interior rivers and lakes, and connecting them with the ocea been in a just and fair proport2 made for the benefit of the po and navigable rivers of the Aft and that the time has arrived- injustice should be corrected mode in which it can be d united, determined, and persev of those, whose rights have looked. 11thThat independent to protection of commerce states, the right of commc guaranteed by the Constituti those citizens inhabiting the dering upon the interior lakes to such safe and convenient ha afford shelter to a navy, when be rendered necessary by hosi our neighbors, and that the of such harbors cannot safely to the time which will demar mediate use. 12thThat the argument monly urged against appropriat tect commerce among the st: defend the inhabitants of th that they invite sectional comb insure success to many unwort is founded on a practical disi Republican principles of our g and of the capacity of the select competent and honest tives. That it may be urged force against legislation upon subject, involving various an. interests. That a just appreci rights and interests of all our zens, in every quarter of the 1 claiming selfish and local Pu, lead intelligent representatives distribution of the means in t~ upon a system of moderation a equality, as will in time mc urgent wants of all, and pru jealousies and suspicions whi the most serious dangers to c eracy. 13thThat we are utterly of perceiving the difference harbor for shelter and a harbo merce, and suppose that a mc which will afford safe anchorac tection to a vessel against a sm necessarily improve such h adapt it to commercial purpose: 14thThat the revenu. from imports on foreign goods b. the people, and the public labd common heritage of all our long as all these resources co imposition of any special burd. portion of the people, to obtain of accomplishing objects equa the duty and the competency of 120 The Chicago Convention. eral Government, would be unjust and opptessive. l5th.That we disavow all and every attempt to connect the cause of internal trade and of commerce among the states with the fortunes of any political party, but that we seek to place that cause upon such immutable principles of truth, jus- tice, and constitutional duty, as shall com- mand the respect of all parties, and the deference of all candidates for public favor.~~ These propositions were slowly, dis- tinctly, and audibly read; and at the same time, printed copies of them, which the committee had caused to be prepared in great numbers, were scattered through the assembly. The first impression made by the reading of the resolutions was manifestly favorable; yet it was ob- vious that not a few persons present sus- pected treason under their smooth and flowing sequence, and some disposition was evinced for an adjournment. But the extreme inconvenience of keeping toge- ther, any longer than unavoidably neces- sary, so immense a gathering, and the fact of the entire unanimity of the com- mittee which reported the propositions, and which was composed of men of dif- ferent political views, and of different states, and the plainness and precision, as well as caution, of the language em- ployed, were successfully urged as ar- guments against postponement or delay. Mr. John C. Spencer, of New York, who had prepared these propositions, offered in their behalf a cogent argu- ment; and after some debate upon details, rather than upon principles, the whole series was adopted with entire unanimity; the only alteration made, being in a resolution where an assertion, not essential at all to the main matter in hand, that duties upon imports were taken from the pockets of the con- sumers, was resisted on the ground that the friends of a protective tariff held that doctrine to be erroneous, and it was consequently struck out. With this ex- ception, the resolutions were passed as they were reported, and with their pas- sage, the business of the Convention was virtually concluded, for they were the declaration of principlesthe real ad- dress to the nationtheir manifesto to Congress of the wrongs they were as- sembled, if possible, to redress, and of the powers conferred to that end by the Constitution upon Congress. Nothing remained then but the ap- pointment of a General Executive Coin- mittee to lay before Congress of the deliberations of the C. and this was provided for by tion subsequently proposed, a the President to select such a of two from each state represc defining the power and duties c mitteeand then at a late ho vention adjourned till the next On re-assembling, it was many delegates had taken thei on the preceding eveninga iz~ ity, however, were still or the The President named the Committee, in the order giv which, as it was, we have re: lieve, deliberately adopted b preserve. MassachusettsAbbott Law ton; John Mills, Springfield. JVew YorkJohn C. Spence Samuel B. Ruggles, New York KentuckyJames T. Morc ington; James Guthrie, Louis~ IndianaJacob G. Sleight city; Zebulon Baird, Lafayette AfissouriThos. Allen, St. 1 M. Converse, St. Louis. Rhode IslandAlex. Duoc dence; Zachariah Allen, Prove IowaGeorge C. Stone, Bl Win. B. Ewing, Burlington. OhioJames Hall, Cincinn~ L. Weatherby, Cleveland. ConnecticutThos. W. WB London; Philip Ripley, Hartf PennsylvaniaT. J. Bigi- burg; S. C. Johnson, Erie. WisconsinRufus King, I Win. Woodman, Mineral Po,nr GeorgiaThos. B. King, Win. B. Hodgson, Savannah. FloridaL. G. Camp. MichiganJos. R. William~ tine; David C. Noble, Monroe MaineCharles Jarvis, St. Gooves, Gardiner. illinoisDavid J. Baker, K B. Thomas, Chicago. Kew JerseyCharles King, town; Littleton Kirkpatrick, wick. .JV~ew HampshireJas. Wil John Page. Abbott Lawrence, of Bo~ Chairman of this Committee; Allen, of St. Louis, Secretary. In placing Mr. Abbott La the head of the committee, a cording to usage, constituting man of the committeeth. deliberately paid a just Co once to Massachusetts, and to Massachusetts man. 1847.1 The Chicago Convention. The residue of the business was merely formal. A vote of thanks to Chicago, its people, and its municipal authorities was, as moved by a delegate from St. Louis, passed with acclamation. Another resolution that the proceedings of the Convention should be published in a pamphlet form, under the supervision of a committee residing in Chicago, was also adopted. A liberal proposition, urged al- most asa right in behalf of Chicago, to be permitted to defray the expense of such publication, was courteously declined, and the expense of the publication and every other expense which might be there- after occurred, by the Executive Commit- tee in the disc barge of their duties, was directed to be borne, by contributions to be raised from their constituencies by the respective delegations. The original minutes of the proceedings of the Convention were then offered to. the city of Chicago, to be deposited in its archives, which was courteously ac- ceded to; and then, on motion of Mr. Corwin, of Ohio, the thanks of the Con- vention were tendered to the President for the courteous, impartial, able and dig- nified manner in which he had presided over its deliberations. This was follow- ed by a motion for an indefinite adjourn- ment. In rising to put the last motion, the President, Mr. Bates, took occasion to acknowledge the vote of thanks to him, passed with such enthusiastic unan- imity by the Convention. He was most fortunate both in the matter and manner of his address, and never were an audi- ence more entirely wrought up to admi- ration by a speaker, than were this mul- titudinous assembly by the closing ad- dress of Mr. Bates. Delivered in a level tone, with fluency, facility, and fecun- dity it seemed to be wanting in nothing which goes to constitute true eloquence, either in topics, in the mode of illus- trating them, in fancy, in imagery, in a perception of the impression made by his words upon the audience, and in the in- spiration which the consciousness of being felt and appreciated, seemed to rekindle in the mind of the speaker. It was evidently an improvisation; not that the subjects of which he spoke had not been well considered and pre-arranged probably, even in the order in which they should be treated, but the living, burning words were unpremeditated, spontaneous, melted out, as it were, by thefervor of a brilliant mind, intensely ex- citedand, therefore, no report, if any tolerable one even had heei the time, could do justice, to have been heard, to be at all appreciated. Finally, the motion to adjou and carried, and thus ended of the flarbor and River Coi Ghicago. But not then or there will fluence of that Convention. T uttered nothing new; it holds known standard; it ventures i- tried path; but in a series of cal and almost self-evident proposil establishes the true reading oft tution, brushes away the fal: whereby it was attempted to p mystify the plain intent of its and brings a gain within the d common sense, of common in the general welfare, a discuss: political metaphysicians had into the clouds of doubt and delays. It was a fortunate coincidenc the day after the Convention hr its declaration of principles, a layed on the route, was rece Daniel Webster, which after at for his unavoidable absence, stantially the very same grounds of the constitutional power of over internal improvements, as in the resolutions of the Co Hence, when his letter was was perceived, as at once it wa~ authority of so great a name Vv to the views which the Conve taken, there was loud and long But, objects some doubter. V~ after all is to come of this Cot It cannot change the views of sident, and so long as Mr. Poll in power, so long will the exerc veto defeat the just hopes of tV of internal improvement. Even if this were final and true; yet real good would result assembling fo the Convention interests involved are for all ti Polk happily is but for a vc timeand even if nothing could for during his term, it would nc will not be, without benefit, tha popular assembly, representing different states, should have imi: impulse to the popular mind I have its effect in the selection of President of the United States. But much as it is the habit of partisans to consider the Preside 122 Opinions of the Couneil of Three government, and to despond about the success of all measures, which the one man may not favor, a juster view of our institutions is to consider Con- gress as the effective government; and so that it he right, it matters little compara- tively, as to essential measures, how a President may feel. In this point of view it is, that we look upon the Chicago Convention as highly important and significant. Nothing hut the urgency of an extreme case, the sense of long-continued injustice at the hands of our federal government, and the de- termination to assert to them our political power in remedying this injustice, can ex- plain the unprecedented gathering at Chicago. It was no holiday meeting, but a coming together of resolute men; laboring under unjust grievances, and conscious of possessing the power of righting themselves. That consci& usness is moderately, but intelligibly expressed in the concluding lines of the last reso- lution : We seek to place our cause upon such immutable principles of truth, justice and constitutional duty, as shall command the respect of all parties and the deference of all canclidatesforpu In this last phrase resides th of this Convention; all partic: spect the truths announced in tionand although the Presi the residue of his term beyond no man aiming at a seat ir should be permitted to hope f except he he sound on these questions. When, then, it is asked, W~ Chicago Convention done? t~ that it has laid broad and deep, from which, and from which rants for seats in Congress . succeedand hence, by a n ence, irresistible, if those wh the views of this Convention true to themselves, and under stances put aside all men chi suffrage, who dissent from thc the Convention will aid in re-a constitutional power of the I of Congress, and in reducing dinary and exceptional pow Presidential Veto within the its originally assigned to it U framers of the Constitution. OPINIONS OF THE COUNCIL OF THREE :CONSERVA Yet, to speak the truth, as sight is more cxcellent and beautiful than the various uses of light; so is the contemplation of things as they are, free from superstition or imposture, error or confusion, much more dignified in itse~f than all the ad- vantage to be derived from discoveries. Loan BAcON. IT is an assertion of some mathemati- cians, that motion is in effect imperisha- ble; so that every word spoken, or even whispered, shall be the beginning of a chain of motions in nature, going on through infinite series, of which the last impulse will carry the meaning of the first, and be as intelligible to a mind ex- alted to its perception. Though the dog- ma will not endure a philosophical test, it will serve, like other logical fictions, to illustrate some effects of the moral powers; for we know very well that certain sentences, whispered, spoken, and written, thousands of years ago, have not lost an atom of their force, now, as they were then, to h cherish, or to strike down a individuals, communities, change the mind of the worl it under the power of Reason The progress of any motic ed, and the motion itself co other motion, when it misses ent to take it up and convey motions contradict and anni other, as when two bodi~ space; new series and qualii tion spring out of the extim old. And so of these mo passing swiftly along the lin they miss of their recipient, tinguished, and cease utterly are met by newer and nioi they are absorbed; and out of opposites, new powers life, and in their turn erect the races of men. These immense powers, si

Opinions of "The Council of Three:" - Conservatism 122-125

122 Opinions of the Couneil of Three government, and to despond about the success of all measures, which the one man may not favor, a juster view of our institutions is to consider Con- gress as the effective government; and so that it he right, it matters little compara- tively, as to essential measures, how a President may feel. In this point of view it is, that we look upon the Chicago Convention as highly important and significant. Nothing hut the urgency of an extreme case, the sense of long-continued injustice at the hands of our federal government, and the de- termination to assert to them our political power in remedying this injustice, can ex- plain the unprecedented gathering at Chicago. It was no holiday meeting, but a coming together of resolute men; laboring under unjust grievances, and conscious of possessing the power of righting themselves. That consci& usness is moderately, but intelligibly expressed in the concluding lines of the last reso- lution : We seek to place our cause upon such immutable principles of truth, justice and constitutional duty, as shall command the respect of all parties and the deference of all canclidatesforpu In this last phrase resides th of this Convention; all partic: spect the truths announced in tionand although the Presi the residue of his term beyond no man aiming at a seat ir should be permitted to hope f except he he sound on these questions. When, then, it is asked, W~ Chicago Convention done? t~ that it has laid broad and deep, from which, and from which rants for seats in Congress . succeedand hence, by a n ence, irresistible, if those wh the views of this Convention true to themselves, and under stances put aside all men chi suffrage, who dissent from thc the Convention will aid in re-a constitutional power of the I of Congress, and in reducing dinary and exceptional pow Presidential Veto within the its originally assigned to it U framers of the Constitution. OPINIONS OF THE COUNCIL OF THREE :CONSERVA Yet, to speak the truth, as sight is more cxcellent and beautiful than the various uses of light; so is the contemplation of things as they are, free from superstition or imposture, error or confusion, much more dignified in itse~f than all the ad- vantage to be derived from discoveries. Loan BAcON. IT is an assertion of some mathemati- cians, that motion is in effect imperisha- ble; so that every word spoken, or even whispered, shall be the beginning of a chain of motions in nature, going on through infinite series, of which the last impulse will carry the meaning of the first, and be as intelligible to a mind ex- alted to its perception. Though the dog- ma will not endure a philosophical test, it will serve, like other logical fictions, to illustrate some effects of the moral powers; for we know very well that certain sentences, whispered, spoken, and written, thousands of years ago, have not lost an atom of their force, now, as they were then, to h cherish, or to strike down a individuals, communities, change the mind of the worl it under the power of Reason The progress of any motic ed, and the motion itself co other motion, when it misses ent to take it up and convey motions contradict and anni other, as when two bodi~ space; new series and qualii tion spring out of the extim old. And so of these mo passing swiftly along the lin they miss of their recipient, tinguished, and cease utterly are met by newer and nioi they are absorbed; and out of opposites, new powers life, and in their turn erect the races of men. These immense powers, si 1847.] Conservatism. their recipients, in the persons fitted by God and nature to receive them, awaken movements of thought, from which flow laws and creeds; the educators of the multitude. A people educated by laws and creeds, whose minds have been in a manner toned and harmonized by the spirit of a wise antiquity, when they speak togeth- er, only utter again the truth which they have received, and thus it will sometimes happen, that their voice will be the voice of God; for having been imbued with the knowledge of the Ancient of Days, what they speak on serious occa- sions, will in some degree express it. But as the previous knowledge, so must he the voice, and, Great is Diana of the Ephesians! will be heard from one peo- ple, while another cries, Ilonorto the Re- deemer of the World! To quit the mathematical figure, which is but a stiff and narrow illustration, let it be considered how each man is shaped and marked by his education, by the so- ciety he lives in, the books he reads, the opiniofi in which he floats, the laws by which he is surroundedprotectedup. held; the creeds by which he is terrified, consoled, and emancipated from his own vices ;and if it were not for new con- tinents, new sciences and new necessi- ties, we might believe ourselves entirely composed out of the past, and breath- ing only the breath our fathers breathed before us. So omnipotent are these forms of the past, men are held together by them, notwithstanding singular and infinite differencesnay, contrarieties of naturein nations, churches, societies; under common laws, common creeds, and common manners. Consideriiig man and his earth togeth- er, our whole past is the cause, of which our future is the effect. No wonder then we worship our past, since it is our venerable mother who pro(luced and cherished us. Napoleon, thinking to pass into France with the army by which he had conquered ltaly, must needs consult his mother; the same conqueror was a ve- hement reader of old histories, and even modelled his military orations, on occa- sions perfectly new and modern, upon the feigned speeches of the classics; so much did he venerate antiquity. Shakspeare built his dramas out of old chronicles. Virgil imitated Homer; Motton, the books of the Prophets. Franklin formed his man sentiment upon the writings lish classics. The best poem of the Ge close imitation of the Greek d Voltaire sharpened his mt classics. The laws under which w~ rejecting modern and Morm tions, are the old laws of Eno The most powerful, as wefi men of the church, he they that sect, are known by their to the old faith. Courtesy comes to us froi dIe ages. Our Constitution was com body of men well read in and the Hebrew Prophets. The great good men, and th men, alike seize upon the mat tiquity to give a form and l)O\ l)U rposes. As the wealth of a solid grows by a natural increase stock he began with, and by or windfalls; the total wisdo ble society,its constitutions, gions, arts, and privilegesa gradual fruit of the principles it began, and the care which continually to revise the fo grow out of them. The general wisdom of founded in the age of antiquit monly able, through its orat and philosophers, to give a tru its developments; but as it ha the chemist, that his work fal fire, and with the artist, that a springs up, and deadens his ~ in society, new forms of ol tyrannies, and barbarities, oft. and for a time hinder, or see the work. Thus, in the progress of Cl fanatical sects have arisen, w ciples, when examined, disco then character. In the Churci individual, the old vice b an ew. In America domestic slaveiy ed among Europeans, after its in Europe, and who does n America, the materiel for a ne~ et, or a new Lycurgus? No less singular, and more contemplate, are those immen tions of opinion, through peric tunes, ~vhen from one crushin~ men pass slowly into the o 124 Opinions of the Council of Three: Conservati3m. the primeval monarchies, to the ancient republics; from those republics to the monarchies of the middle ages; from those monarchies, on to the modern re- publics: thrice, only since the days of the patriarchs3 the scale has vibrated: these movements are slower than those volcanic tides, which indicate changes in the inner structure of the globe. It would not be a sufficient explana- tion of these changes, to say that they are growths of necessity; for necessity it- self appears differently to different na- tures. There is no natural necessity for the establishment of churches and schools, or of courts of justice; living like savages or beasts, men could do without them. We are compelled to regard them as a product of the superior nature, or of REAsoN. Society, the state, worshiporiginally of divine institutioncoiltinue to bear the marks of their original, as they are moulded by reason, the image of Divinity. Out of these, spring all the permanent interests of humanity; for it will he found that letters, arts, arms, commerce, governments renown, sanctity, justice in a word, all that occupies the attention of man, as he is, social, just, and reli- gious, or the contrary, have reference to polity, to society, or to religion; the rest is matter of the day, or of sport. To enter upon arguments for the proof of such matters, would lie as idle as to argue for the being of a God, or pain- fully to show that rain falls from the clouds; yet, though no man will ordina- rily argue about them, it is sometimes necessary to rally attention to the rendezvous of all opini Not to be involved at this any over-subtle investigation ture of thiiigs in general, o human nature, left to itself,. have invented these institutio~ or, justice, and religion, out c human interests flow as dep secondaryit may suffice to~ belief (that it may appear to we are sworn), that these were not only given from Hea but are perpetually of divine o that without an immediate su: vinity in them, they would c- ist, and the human race beasts, or worse; this, at k opinion of many in the ninetc ry; whether of the inajori would he hard to ascertain; ready to answer any questi than these. Other opinions are loudly mently expressed; but that that the majority entertain world is very like the Frenc of Deputies, loud and stormy position side; but when the ken, the king carries it; they their own interests, and like ots, identify their own safety countrys. In America there and incessant outcry againi~t faith, yet the silent party ca~ the majority find their true the side of King Reason; th~ his authority for it, before tht~ own walls about their ears. 1847.] John Rutledge. A SKETCH OF THE LIFE AND PUBLIC SERVICES O~ RUTLEDGE OF SOUTH CAROLINA, WITH EXTRACTS FROM HIS UNPUBLISHED CORRESPONDENCE. AT a late session of Congress, it was, on motion of Mr. Westcott, that the Sen- ate of the United States directed the Committee on the Judiciary to report a Bill for a bust of Mr. John Rutledge, of South Carolina. On the 17th July, 1846, a Bill was accordingly reported for this ( purpose, from that committee. It passed to a second reading, but was not again recurred to during the session, and now remains in abeyance, to be called up at some future opportunity. The more ex- citing and absorbing character of the events now in progressforeign war, and the conflicts of rival partiesnatu~ rally contributed still further to delay the tribute of a tardy propriety and jus- tice. This resolution of the Senate necessa- rily provokes an inquiry into the claims of the individual thus honorably distin- guished among his contemporaries. Mil- lions have sprung into existence since the services of John Rutledge, in the Re- volution, won for him the admiration of his associates, who have scarcely heard his name. The American people have hitherto shown themselves strangely re- miss in preserving memorials of their great men; Their history has been one of performances rather than memorials. They have been preparing history rather than recording it; and what is true of the Americans, as a nation, is still more appropriately apl)lied to the people of the Southern States. It is their peculiar fortune to be agricultural in their pur- suits; an(l agriculture is seldom known to leave its monuments. The sparseness of population in agricultural countries, and the unexciting nature of their occu- pations, preclude that lively attrition of mind with mind, which, in commercial communities, provokes a continual im- patience of the staid, and, by excit- ing a perpetual restlessness of mood, leads naturally to the development of all the resources of society. In this way reputations are fixed, memorials raised and preserved with care ; proofs are sought for wherever they may be found; and the becoming tribute to past worth is honorably offered by that veneration VOL. VINO. II. 9 which, in the enjoyment of p efits, is not forgetful of the due to ancient benefactors. has not shown this proper veneration. Its gratitude hi dared itself in trophies to thc tardy zeal, in recent periods little more than discover ho diable is this neglect and ii since it shows us how inade should now offer to perform ti which we never thought to the proper season. The doci cessary to our memorials ac our search. The proofs of on ances daily elude our grasp ar The records of private familic. unfrequently to be procured, a pers and CorrespOn(lence of C of the Revolution have been ri consigned to waste and ruin grateful improvidence of chil. have but too imperfectly re their thoughts, ~he wondrous their inheritance. The statesm Southa region which has al- numerously prolific of this cla~ lic benefactorshave, with fe tions, been suffered to die a tirely out of the public mir obscured by the names of othei seCtions, the painstaking and of whose descendants have chief sources of their distinct~ have thus temporarily incurred ure of those rights, or, at leac place in the national regard an which none might more confi sert and assume than themselv South produces but few autho. ordinary sense of the word. tellectual men are politicians, and lawyers. They do not li past, but in the present. The work for the future, but the day business is not so much to do those who transmitted the torc hands, as to hurry with it on the hands of others. Their tho spoken in the Assembly and a thoroughfaresseldom through dium of the Press ;they spe than write, and, in due degree

A Sketch of the Life and Public Services of John Rutledge of South Carolina 125-137

1847.] John Rutledge. A SKETCH OF THE LIFE AND PUBLIC SERVICES O~ RUTLEDGE OF SOUTH CAROLINA, WITH EXTRACTS FROM HIS UNPUBLISHED CORRESPONDENCE. AT a late session of Congress, it was, on motion of Mr. Westcott, that the Sen- ate of the United States directed the Committee on the Judiciary to report a Bill for a bust of Mr. John Rutledge, of South Carolina. On the 17th July, 1846, a Bill was accordingly reported for this ( purpose, from that committee. It passed to a second reading, but was not again recurred to during the session, and now remains in abeyance, to be called up at some future opportunity. The more ex- citing and absorbing character of the events now in progressforeign war, and the conflicts of rival partiesnatu~ rally contributed still further to delay the tribute of a tardy propriety and jus- tice. This resolution of the Senate necessa- rily provokes an inquiry into the claims of the individual thus honorably distin- guished among his contemporaries. Mil- lions have sprung into existence since the services of John Rutledge, in the Re- volution, won for him the admiration of his associates, who have scarcely heard his name. The American people have hitherto shown themselves strangely re- miss in preserving memorials of their great men; Their history has been one of performances rather than memorials. They have been preparing history rather than recording it; and what is true of the Americans, as a nation, is still more appropriately apl)lied to the people of the Southern States. It is their peculiar fortune to be agricultural in their pur- suits; an(l agriculture is seldom known to leave its monuments. The sparseness of population in agricultural countries, and the unexciting nature of their occu- pations, preclude that lively attrition of mind with mind, which, in commercial communities, provokes a continual im- patience of the staid, and, by excit- ing a perpetual restlessness of mood, leads naturally to the development of all the resources of society. In this way reputations are fixed, memorials raised and preserved with care ; proofs are sought for wherever they may be found; and the becoming tribute to past worth is honorably offered by that veneration VOL. VINO. II. 9 which, in the enjoyment of p efits, is not forgetful of the due to ancient benefactors. has not shown this proper veneration. Its gratitude hi dared itself in trophies to thc tardy zeal, in recent periods little more than discover ho diable is this neglect and ii since it shows us how inade should now offer to perform ti which we never thought to the proper season. The doci cessary to our memorials ac our search. The proofs of on ances daily elude our grasp ar The records of private familic. unfrequently to be procured, a pers and CorrespOn(lence of C of the Revolution have been ri consigned to waste and ruin grateful improvidence of chil. have but too imperfectly re their thoughts, ~he wondrous their inheritance. The statesm Southa region which has al- numerously prolific of this cla~ lic benefactorshave, with fe tions, been suffered to die a tirely out of the public mir obscured by the names of othei seCtions, the painstaking and of whose descendants have chief sources of their distinct~ have thus temporarily incurred ure of those rights, or, at leac place in the national regard an which none might more confi sert and assume than themselv South produces but few autho. ordinary sense of the word. tellectual men are politicians, and lawyers. They do not li past, but in the present. The work for the future, but the day business is not so much to do those who transmitted the torc hands, as to hurry with it on the hands of others. Their tho spoken in the Assembly and a thoroughfaresseldom through dium of the Press ;they spe than write, and, in due degree 126 John Ruikdge. attain freedom, grace, and power in ora- tory, is their reluctance to undergo the laborious manipulations of authorship. Hence it is that, when the sounds of their voices subside from the ears of their au- ditors, there remains no record by which to save them for the justice and the judgments of the future. The manufac- ture of their histories, their biographies, their books generally, is yielded almost wholly to their brethren of the North and these naturally incline to choose for their subjects the great events and the great men in their own more immediate precincts. Hence it is that a great wrong is wrought, without being de- signed, to a portion of our historical character, and to many of the master memories of the nation. The South has no reason to be ashamed of the place which she has held in the performances of the country, whether as States or Col- onies. Virginia and South Carolina, like Massachusetts, were the noble nurs- ing mothers of a great family of repub- lics. They always possessed that indi- viduality of character, which is some- times unwisely censured under the name of sectionality; as if this very section- ality did not constitute those individual- izing characteristics of a people, by which alone their nationality could be determined. Their sons have written their names with pride upon every page of our progress. It is not altogether too late to make their memorials; and though these must still necessarily he very im- perfect, something may yet be done to- wards acknowledging, by proper tributes, the great debt of gratitude and affection which we owe to those sires of States, who, by bold eloquence, counselling hold deeds, achieved the precious possession of liberty and country in which it is our pleasure daily to exult. The Senate of the United States de- serve the thanks of the nation, for thus recalling to its memory the name of John Rutledge. Mr. Rutledge was the Patrick Henry of South Carolina, and a states- man, orator and patriot, quite worthy to take rank, not only with the great Vir- ginian to whom he has been frequently compared, but with any of the statesmen which the American Revolution produ- ced. Henry himself acknowledged, with the generous ardor of a noble spirit, the claims of this distinguished He declared that, in the first the nation, John Rutledge superior lustre. When ass return to Virginia, after that fi tion, what was the degree of what was the sort of persons that illustrious body, and, in whom he thought its greatc answered: If you speak o John Rutledge, of South Carc greatest orator. Such a trB from such a source, would so tify us in demanding all that. delivered of the career of its s when, in addition to this rep are told that his patriotism, re character and sagacious judg conspicuous in maintaining 1 spirit of the Southern States Revolution, in keeping up of Georgia and the Carolinas recting and counselling the ances, we feel that his histot sary to that of the country contribute to that national st acter, the value of which m rily increase with every year gress to maturity. We proc paper, to contribute, in som gree, to repair our deficienci what we can of the past in Mr. Rutledge, and to make popular readers what remai his achievements. This, no imperfectly he done. The cords are wanting. There a memorials, or very few. I nous correspondence of Mr. President of the Colony of ~i lina, Governor of the State, it tative in Congress, and Chiu the United States, seems now coverable; and hut a few let to us, which are yet unpub from which, where they ser trate the progress and chain. lic events, or to indicate th. temper of the writer, we pre tach for our narrative. The father of John Rut from Ireland. He reached .C~ a brother, Andrew, somewhe year 1735. 1-lere he com practice of medicine, and soo ned a Miss Hexe, who, at I of fifteen, gave birth to th * From the private collection of the late General Peter lorry, now in the Dr. 11.. W. Gibbes, of South Carolina, and from the papers of the Laurens fain 1847.1 Jo/zn Rutledge. our sketch. He was born in 1739. His father died not long after, and the do- mestic training was thus left entirely to the young mother, who did not lack in the necessary endowments for this diffi- cult duty. Devoting herself to her off- spring, she left him but little reason to feel or to regret the paternal loss, of which he was comparatively uncon- scious. His early education was con- fided to David Rhind, an excellent clas- sical scholar, and, in his day, one of the most eminent and successful teachers of youth in the Carolinas. The progress of John Rutledge was highly satisfactory. He was soon possessed of the degree of classical knowledge which was supposed to be requisite for the career designed him, and what was wanting to the finish of his education in Charleston was de- rived from his transfer to superior insti- tutions in England. The preparatory studies over, he was entered a student of the Temple in London, and proceeding barrister, came out to Charleston, where, in 1761; he commenced the practice of the law. lie was soon to fix the attention of the public in his profession. This is one in which, ordinarily, it requires some considerable time before the pro- fessor can work his way into public confidence and business. Mr. Rutledge was subjected to no such delay. I-us mind, at once ready and exact, was equally solid and precocious. His great general abilities, particularly the ease, freedom, strength and directness of his eloquence, were especially calculated to fix and charm the regards of an eager and enthusiastic people. His first case at the bar was one of peculiar interest. The subject was one of uncommon infre- quency in the South. It was one of all others most likely to excite attention and feeling among a proud and sensitive people. It was an action sounding in damages, for a breach 6f promise. The Southern people do not tolerate such actions. A Southern lady would be ashamed of being a party to them. Her philosophy and theirs would teach them to rejoice rather than regret in the escape from any connection with the treacherous. The case was one, therefore, which afforded to our young lawyer an admira- ble occasion for the display of his abili- ties. He did not suffer it to escape him; and the tradition was carefully treasured up by his admirers that he equally charmed and confounded by quence. The event was not without The ice once broken, an exte of usefulness and power SOC upon the eyes of our youthf His was no tedious probatio in his profession at a bound. shown himself equal at once t est flights of passion and far the strictest and severest pr ratiocination. His reason an pulse wrought happily toge enthusiasm was never suffered his induction, nor the severity lysis to stifle the ardor of his A happy combination of all tials of the lawyer and the c soon acknowledged to be in h sion, and business grew rapidly hands. The difficulty and of the cases brought before hii- the public persuasion of his The liberal fees by which hi~ were retained announced his successes. It became customar that his clients were necessa~ successful, and no doubt a forc clusion of this sort did much to farther conviction of judge Such a conviction could not rea been reached until repeated trims impressed upon the popular most perfect assurance of his ft was highly fortunate for hir the country that such were his and so rapidly acquired, since years were allowed him for th tion of his private fortunes, growing discontents and diffic the country demanded his ser the public cause. The first fai were now about to take place wJ but remote issue was revolution; dering of one mighty empire, birth of another, destined, wi blessing, to be still more might- Rutledge was one of the cho; in our Israel whose hands were from the beginning in bringing istence this grand conception. The beginning of the Revoluf in all the States, be traced mnuc back than it is common for our historians to pursue the clues. of opinion that, in spite of all ers, many of the great men of conceived the independence of th try even before the year 1760; question shall not arrest us na 128 1764, Governor Boone of South Carolina refused to administer to Christopher Gadsden the oaths which all persons were required to take who were returned to the Commons House of Assembly. This was, in other words, to deny him the seat, since the performance of the legislative functions depended upon a compliance with the laws in relation to the preliminary oaths. The asserted in- eligibility of Gadsden was in conse- quence of the freedom of his opinions, and the supposed licentiousness of his wishes in regard to the colonial rights and privileges. He, too, was one of the remarkable men of that day in the South a man of sterling integrity and singu- lar sagacity, and one of the first to scent tyranny from afar, and to prepare the popular mind to loathe and to resist it. It became necessary, accordingly, to dis- franchise him, and to visit the sins of. his opinion with the frowns of the royal representative. But the step taken for this purpose was one of the most unlucky for its object. The House of Assembly kindled with indignation at this assault upon their constitutional privileges. They claimed to be the only, sole and proper judges of the qualifications of their mein- hers, and resented in proper language, and with a becoming spirit, the usurpa- tions of the royal governor. It was in arousing this spirit, as well among the people as in the Assembly, that John Rutledge first distinguished himself in his political career. He urged upon both people and Assembly to resist promptly and with a determined hostility every interference of the royal agent with their rights and privileges. These were the sacred proofs and the only sure essentials of their safety, and not to he surrendered but at the last peril of life and fortune. lie kindled the flame on this occasion, and soon had the satisfaction to see it burning brightly and triumphantly on the altars of public liberty. Scarcely was this domestic contro- versy at an end, and while the feeling which it bad provoked was still livelily at work in every hosom, when the passage of the ever-memorable Stamp Act opened the way to another of like character, hut of more general applica- tion, and of more imposing and perma- nent results. This measure led to the first social and political organization among the colonies, and to their first distinct connection for a common pur pose. Hitherto their existt purely and singularly mdiv were so many severalities, common bond, though sii side on the same continent nities prior to this event ap been very few. Almost cered from the mother-couni course between their public ceedingly slight, confine matters wholly, and only such business as resulted f~ mentary exigencies. It policy of Great Britain tha become more intimate, sic macy must necessarily hay. hetter than anything else their own strength. The o had something to do with tion, which it did not pro in the final overthrow of Fn America that the colonists some knowledge of their the continued pressure of my upon their coasts and colonists would still ha, Great Britain for support a and their dependence mig tinued for half a century this danger withdrawn, opportunity not only to increase, but to reflect u which failed to impress th~ of their danger, that it vv men and money mostly b, deliverance had been ach Britain had simply officere from among her favorite their resources by which to while she continued to mc trade, tax their gains and commercial successes. rapidly for independence f with the French and Span From that moment began tion, and the wretched a Stamp Act gave a fatal b1 n2orale of British ascenden tinent. That ascendency ed to be purely and arrogan next natural question w~ might be dispensed with. South Carolina was one the colonies to declare hei to this offensive measure. sition of Massachusett~ t cial Assemblies, to send cc their bodies to a common regard to their united worki mon cause, was a suggest John Ruiledge~ 1847.] JoIttt Rutledge. well startle communities whose local authoritiesby no means in harmony with the peoplehad, for some time be- fore, been busy in the inculcation in the royal mind of suspicions and jealousies in regard to the popular passion in Ame- rica for independence. An act of union, no matter how innocent the obvious purpose, was one to increase and con- firm those suspicions. It was one, ac- cordingly, for which the mind of the country was but partially prepared. The proposition of Massachusetts met with great opposition. it was discussed anx- iously in all quarters, and nowhere with more warmth and uneasiness than in South Carolina. That colony had been in a very large degree the pet and favor- ite of the British Government. It had been largely patronized by the crown, supplied with men and money in its emergencies, and there was no rivalry in trade, commerce or manufactures between the parties, such as existed between the people of England and Massachusetts, which could justify or account for the activity crf the Carolinians in any over- throw of the royal authority. But they had their wrongs also, which they re- sented deeply, though these differed in a large degree from those of which the Northern colonies complained; and the sympathies of the leading men of Caro- lina, particularly such as had been edu- cated in Great Britain, were mostly with the cause of Massachusetts. A passion- ate love of liberty in their bosoms proved superior to any considerations of mere security and profit. John Rutledge at once thrcw himself into the conflict of opinion among his people, and contended with all the might of his eloquence against their doubts, their fears, and that prescriptive loyalty which a blind veneration alone could cherish in spite of an obvious necessity. lIe conciliated the prejudices, disarmed the apprehen- sions, answered the doubts, strengthened the hopes, and fortified the courage at once of the people and the Assembly. - The popular mind expanded instantly beneath his earnestness, cogency and vehemence to a due appreciation of the policy and importance of the proposed Congress; and the result was, that the vote for sending deputies to the Conti- nental Congress was carried in South Carolina the first of all the colonies outh of New England. This was truly a great triumph in the case of a province settled originally and chiefly by the cava hers, and which for so long a enjoyed the peculiar smiles and tection of the crown. John was one of the three delegatc: to represent her in the first Congi nation; the other two were Cli Gadsden andThomas Lynch. Mr. Rutledge was the youn~ twenty-five years oldwith his lingering on the happy threshold but lifted freely and boldiy to and advance in the arduous - manhood. This appointment t( in 1765, immediately after the the news of the passage of th Act. The Congress met first York, a memorable meeting an remarkable bodyremarkable at strength of character and vario; It was with something of a that the delegates from the North nies listened to the eloquencc Rutledgeeloquence which, wt of the impetuous force and fulln~ mosthenes combined the polish. and freedom of the Roman Tuli knowledge of the remote colon South had not prepared t such a powerful exhibition. days the means of education Carolina were exceedingly few ferior. The sister provinces chiefly by her merely physical tionsby rice, and indigo, and possibly tar and turpentine. already instanced the small a social intercourse existing bet- colonies. They regarded Sou lina as a region chiefly of Sl: slaveholders, the former in overt disproportion to the latter, and tinguished rather by a volupt haughty languor and self-in than by any of the higher am imagination or the intellect 1 pected neither wit nor ~visdom a quarter, and the appearancc Rutledge among them in debe surprise calculated greatly to d their previous concel)tions of th from which he came. They taken into allowance the custo more wealthy in the colony, b their sons were mostly educate rope. It is very likely Ihat th. nothing of this fact, though man South Carolinians who subz became leaders in the struggle w sued, were graduates of Englis sities. Of the impression made up 130 John Thstledge. gress by Mr. Rutledge, the opinions so both argument and wit for handsomely expressed by Patrick Henry the observations of his a will afford us some idea. Henry was the former he destroyed an admirable judge, not less than a gen- their forceby the latter, hf erous rival. His estimate was confirmed in so ludicrous a light that by that of others, who, in their own vinced, and scarcely ever large endowments, had a right to speak. ciliating and pleasing his h. The style of Mr. Rutledge, as a debater, ny were the triumphs of b was vehement and impetuous, but clear, at the bar and in the Legisl: direct and manly. His foresight and the former case, probably boldness were the secrets of his force; strict, impartial justice wo- his admirable common sense and order for judges, juries, counsel were the effective agents in the trausmis- hung on his accents. sion of his ideas; while his passionate But the repeal of the S~ emphasis, and earnest but graceful man- not prove a satisfactory conc ner, struck, with timely application, up. a temporary one onlyto 5 on the sensibilities, and carried his con- prehensive spirit of Amei victions, with irresistible effect, into the Her politicians and patriots, souls of his audience. The dignity, ened to suspicion, were not courage, candor and noble character of lulled into repose and conf~ Gadsden; the gentlemanly demeanor, year 1774 opened the field polish, and good sense of Lynch; with Rutledge, in the passage of the eloquence of Rutledge, did more for Post Bdltidings of whicb the reputation of South Carolina, at the reached Charleston, kindle incipient assemblage of the States, than apprehensions of the intellig had been done during her whole previ- duced almost a~ much excit ous history, by the spirit of her warfare vailed in Boston. A gener and conduct against the Indians, French, the inhabitants was instantly and Spaniards, and by all the value of expresses dispatched to eve her exports in rice and indigo. It was a the province. The persons lesson to herself, not less than to her together in convention, ope neighbors, and she will not be the first of liberations with a general s the confederacy to forget how much no- proceedings of the British bler and more essential to national char- This survey, however, did acter are mind and virtue, than all other much unanimity of opiniot mortal possessions. citement grew with the disc The history of that Congress, and the projects of the politicians v fruits of its session, are everywhere on ing to the degree of indiffe record. The repeal of the Stamp Act ne- they felt, when they caine to cessaTily diminished the active participa- inverse power of that auth tion of the colonists in political affairs, anger they were now likely and Rutledge returned to his native State by their proceedings. Sev~ and to his professionmingling no fur- of action, or of opinion, xvi- ther in public affairs than was incident to for their consideration, but his position as a prominent member of kind to obtain more than a the provincial legislature. He contin- feeble support. In the ap~ ued to win golden opinions from all delegates to a general Cong sorts of people, as well as a lawyer and jection was made. But t~ public speaker. Dr. Ramsay, a cotempo- ment was trammelled with rary, describes his mode of speaking and straints and a limitation of pc thinking, at this period, in a brief pas- must have ended in rendern sage, which we quote His ideas, tion utterly impotent for go says Ramsay, were clear and strong was that the absence of dom his utterance rapid but distincthis voice, Shies, arising from mutual action and energetic manner of speaking, between the colonies, was forcibly impressed his sentiments on the ceptible. It was insisted. ti minds and hearts of all who heard him. gates so chosen should be At reply, he was quickinstantly com- to the extent which they prehending the force of an objection, and pledging the colony to the su saw at once the best mode of weakening Bostonians. This was equ or repelling it. He successfully used repudiation of that comamun 1847.] John Rutledge. and interests, which alone could bring about a hearty co-operation of the colo- nies against the power of the mother country. Jt was merely a complimenta- ry expression of sympathy to a sister colony, which implied neither risk nor saci-ifices. The convention was likely to prove abortive, and the friends of rnoarem~nts, arid of the common cause, were in despair on every hand. It was while the doubt and confusion were great- est that Mr. Rutledge rose to the crisis. He looked beyond the immediate occa- sion, and, in the case of Massachusetts, beheld that of South Carolina, and of every other colony, should like circum- stances bring about a like collision be- tween the parent State and its progeny. He succeeded in conveying his convic- tions to his audience. He knew that South Carolina had been a favorite, sim- ply because she was not a rival. Let the occasion but occur when an independent trade should become her policywhen she should embark in manufactures, and claim to share with the British people, at home, the equal advantages of the Con- 4itutionand he clearly described her fate as certain to be that of Massachusetts, in the ilay of her present exigency. It is one of the essential proofs of genius, that it argues for future generations. Mr. Rutledge was prepared to peril the present for the future. He submitted resolutions, the amount of which was that the delegates from South Carolina should take their part in the Continental Congress, with minds untrammelled should go without instructionand be left to their own wisdom and penetration, to determine what was to be done, and what Carolina should pledge herself to do in the common struggle with the pa- rent empire. He enforced his resolution with a powerful speech. lie argued with successful force, and keen sarcasm, against any such absurility as that of sending puppets, mere dumb waiters, to a deliberative assembly, which called equally for the highest courage and wis- dom - Delegates were supposed to be chosen with some regard to their capaci- ty and honesty, particularly where they were sent to consult with associates, up- on propositions of which no one in the primary assemblies could pos ibly know anything. Mr. Rutledge demonstrated that any trust short of the most plenary discretion, would leave the representa- tive in a wretched impotency, and defeat utterly the ends of the appointment. There was a crisis of tremend to be encountered, and he was ing it with all the wisdom ani gy of manhood. When it wr by some of the advocates for i- that such a discretion was oh abusethat the delegates mi. their princillals, and usurp a inconsistent with the authormtm red upon themhis answer w laconic and vehement: Ha hang them ! He carried his measures and ence. On this occasion he ma erful impression on the multitu acknowledged the justice of hi~ His courage stimulated them. gies infused themselves into if heart, and lifted the common to a first consciousness of that which had now, in the eyes of men, become unavoidable, and far as Carolina was concerned its great impulse on that day ai proceeding. The resolution freedom. It was a vital stab t. eign government. Everything fided to the discretion of the and the colony pledged itself them. Five persons were aut1 do in the premises whatever tl~ cy required. These five pers John Rutledge, Edward RutIc brother), Christopher Gadsden, Lynch, and Henry Middleton names deserve to he remembere were choice specimens, equali talents, the virtue,. and the ch the people. Furnished with si powers, they took their seats in under peculiar advantages. ceedings of that famous body, sembled in Philadelphia, are wc to our histories. Resolutions the business intercourse betwer onies and the mother couni passed; imports from Great Br land, and the West Indies, w. foreborne; the case of Mass was declared to be that of all the conduct of time people of that was cordially approved, and thc were all pledged to their suppc claration and resolves were pa serting the rights and grievanc- colonies; and, in these, as b~ c ceedings, which we need not er Congress made a considerable the l)ath of revolution. The these proceedings was necessa largely shared by Mr. Rutledgc 132 Jolzsz Rutledge. embodied his spirit, and were evolved with his energies. He participated in- dustriously in their details, and their principles were illustrated by his elo- quence. We have seen the estimate of his powers as made by Patrick Henry. It was one which seems to have been generally allowed. Already, indeed, had the epithet Demosthenean been employed to describe the characteristics of his ora- tory. The Congress terminated its sittings in October, 1774,and Mr. Rutledge returned to Charleston to meet his constituents. Some of his proceedings were the sub- ject of cavil. The Commons House of Assembly sat in Charleston in January, 1775, and the delegates of the colony to Congress appeared before them to render an account of their proceedings. These were taken up for consideration seriatim. The articles of association determine.d upon by Congress, were, of course, par- ticularly scrutinized. The four last words of the fourth article of that instrument, which,- while interdicting exports to Great Britain, Ireland, or the West In- dies, makes an especial exception in fa- vor of Rice to Europe, occasioned no little disquiet and disgust. The people of the interior who dealt in corn, hemp, pork, butter and lumber, in whose be- half no similar exception had been made, deemed themselves sacrificed to the weal- thy rice planters. They were suspicious and angry accordingly. A more noble feeling of self-sacrifice prompted others, at the head of whom was Christopher Gadsden, one of the delegates, to regret that any reservation whatever had been made in favor of any article, by which a doubt could be thrown upon the patri- otism of the colony. But Mr. Rutled0e had his reasons ready, and the defence of himself and his three associatesMr. Gadsden having voted against the excep- tionwas devolved upon him. The sub- stance of the speech which he made upon this occasion shows his sagacity. The outline of his argument may be condensed in a paragraph. He said that at an early period he and the other dele- gates from South Carolina had warmly pressed upon Congress resolutions equal- ly of total non-importation arid non-ex- portation, to go into immediate effect; that as a non-importion act in regard to Great Britain and Ireland was to with- hold from them the advantages which their people might derive from the receipt of American commodities, so the end was most certain to be effected b those commodities altogether Such restrictions, however, found, could not be carried ; em colonies resolving to rer land as usual, to pay their circuitous trade in flour am the rest of Europe. The c which they shipped to country were really of little the rival trade would be little the terms of the association by them. For example, he rev Philadelphia carried on a trad to the amount of 700,000 which scarce 50,000 ever markets of the mother con to export, therefore, to Grc would be no sacrifice or loss of Philadelphia. It was evid colonies thus and similarly cirt would really less annoy 1 country by resolves of non- in the matter of trade, than preserve their own. Seem thought it but due to the Carolina to preserve her tra as possible. In rice and mdi her main values. These son_ markets than the British; and it neither politic nor liberal trade of one colony to suffer stroyed, while that of othc really no sacrifice, was to b~ her expense. If the cause a liberty required that burden. borne by the people, it was that such burdens should be tributed. He, at least, was to yield to such inequalitic strictions, as should operate justice upon some sections, - had no hurt. Upon the Mr. Rutledge, this whole had rather the aspect of a scheme among the flour colc a better vent for their flour British Channel, by preventi ble, any rice from being se markets. For his part, he should never consent that 1 ents should become the du people. He was not willi them to the unreasonable and exactions of the north, It does not need that vie sue this discussion, which I-. result than to prove the eqi and sagacity of the speaker. antly re-established himself a ciates in the confidence of i 1847.] John Rutledge. ents, and the delegation were re-elected to Congress without opposition; an hon- orable acquittal, which included the cor- dial well done of an approving peo- ple. This decision was reiterated in a public vote of thanks from the Assem- bly, when at the close of the next ses- sion of Congress they made their report, and were again re-chosen to fill the po- sition they had maintained so well. Suc- cessive elections had thus continued Mr. Rutledge in this office till the opening of the year 1776. At this time he returned to Charleston with Mr. Middleton, one of his associates. They were addressed by the President of the Provincial (local) Congress,ina very complimentary speech, in which their performances and those of the body with which they wrought, were reviewed at large and honorably distin- guished. A resolution having been in- troduced into the Provincial Congress, declaring the existing mode of conduct- ing public affairs to be inadequate to the well-being and government of the coun- try, a committee of eleven, of whom Mr. Rutledge was the second, was appointed to prepare and to report a plan of gov- ernment. The new scheme of organiza tion intended for the emergency, was pre- sented on the 5th March; and while its measures were yet under consideration, new acts of aggression on the part of Great Britain silenced its opponents, and proposed such an amendment of some of its provisions as was more in accordance with the bolder spirits of the hour. . On the 24th of the month, Mr. Rutledge, from the committee to prepare the consti- tution, made a further report, greatly en- arging the objects and strengthening the tone of the former. This suspended much of the preceding performance; and arrested the discussion. The whole of the preamble to this report was from the pen of Mr. Rutledge. We have little doubt that to his activity and grasp of mind, his political acuteness and great legal knowledge, we are indebted for most of the provisions of this instrument. We should like to give this preamble to our readers, not less because of its com- pactness and comprehensiveness, than because it embodies, in nearly the same order, and sometimes in the same phra- seology, the very matter, which, in a more condensed form, was subsequently employed by Mr. Jefferson in the famous declaration. But our limits will not suf- fer us to do so. The curious reader will find it in the Appendix to Memoirs, second volume, p. 1 The agency of Mr. Rutle preparation of this first cons South Carolina, was duly ack by the Assembly, whose first the adoption of the new or was to elect him, under its prc the Presidency of the State. appear that his nomination mc opposition. In a brief exten speech, which has been repot turned his thanks for this c and distinction. I have, the deepest sense of this hc being called, by the free suB brave and generous people, over their welfare, is, in my o highest that any man can rec dreading the weighty and ard of this station, I really wish choice had fallen upon one fled to discharge them; for, zeal and integrity I will yield I yet know that in ability to am inferior to many. Yet, always thought every mans b due to his country, no fear of difficulty or danger, shall det; yielding mine. In reply to of both Houses tendering thei1 and support, he answers, a things Be persuaded tha would embrace a just and e~ commodation with Great B~ gladly than myself; but until ble an object can be obtained, of my country, and preservat constitution, which, from a pet ledge of the ri0hts and a laud to the happiness of the l)eol)i. so wisely framed, shall engros~ attention. His pledges thus solemnly amply carried out in perform~ his subsequent career. His was delivered to both Houses eral Assembly, on the 11th A It discussed briefly the relati contending countriesthe cc the disputeand was suppose so ably to express the rights of America, that it was put f Assembly in handbills, as we newspapers. Reduced to xvi not such a performance as v mand attention now. The s was a new onethe argume. be sought; new governing were in progress, and the pi 134 John Rutledge. which has now become proverbial among assigned. He diminished the us, was then naturally crude, in due de- troops on the island, as he ha gree with the freshness and difficulty of dence in the ability of the fort the occasion. Besides, Mr. Rutledge was itself against assault; declare an orator and not a writer. The sub- a mere slaughter pen ; and, tleties of eloquencethose exquisite Moultrie, when the enemy snatches of thought, fancy and feeling, coming on, went so far as beyond the reach of art, which so com- would order the whole body off pletely ravish in deliveryusually evap- but apprehend it might make orate from the speeches of the best ora- son uneasy. But for Rutledg tors, as in the case of Sheridan, when would certainly have been carried to the press; and we shall be as- thus would have been lost to 1 tonishedwe, even, who have heard, to can arms, one of the most glo find how commonplace shall be the ora- bitions of valor and fortitude tion which has tilled our hearts with de- annals have to boast. Ho~ light, as the well-rounded periods of pas- were the views and resolves a sionate flights have flown from the lips ian Rutledge! How fortunate I of the speaker to our ears. in authority and capable of e The post which Mr. Rutledge had con- will which could control the sented to accel)t, was by no means a sin- the Continental General. Lie ecure. Events were ripening rapidly to Moultrie from the city, on the explosion. The British Government re- ing of the battle, and just as I sented, in particular, the course taken by was about to open: South Carolina. A colony which had been so much a favorite, and which was General Lee wishes you suj)posed to be so equally rich and fee- the fort. You will not do so ble, at oi-mce invited aggression. Resent- order from me. I would soo ment and appetite equally prompted an my hand than write one. early and (lecisive demonstration against J. Ru~ her, the more particularly as she too had flung the teas into the river and bom- This note is brim-full of barded the kings ships in her waters. The Spartan brevity which The new constitution was adopted on the speaks volumes for the Spartan 26th March. President Rutledge was which dictated it. The issue inaugurated on the 27th, and, early in battle, June 28, 1776, is well May, tidings reached the colony that Sir our history. An overwhelmi Peter Parker, with a heavy British fleet was beaten off with immer squadron, was already at Cape Fear in ter, by militiamen who had ne North Carolina. All now was prepara- seen the smoke of an enemy~ tion for the enemy in Charleston. Levies trenched behind an unfinished were soon raised in Virginia and North palmetto logs and sand. Whi Carolina, for the succor of the threatened tle is yet raging, and after it hr colony and city, and the Continental Con- ed for two mortal hours, Ge gress furnished an experienced general in writes to Moultrie : Dear C the person of the more notorious than you should unfortunately exi renowned Charles Leea man of rare ammunition without beating o talents, hut of an eccentricity that ren- my, or driving them on groin dered them very uncertain, and greatly your guns and retreat with al impaired their value and efficiency. Jt possible. Lee seems to hay was fortunate for South Carolina that the one idea in his head on she had placed at the head of her affairs sionretreat, retreat, nothin,~ a man so resolute and prompt, and a treat. How different again the statesman so sagacious as John Rutledge. spirit of Rutledges instruction When Lee looked at the fortress on Sul- about the same moment: livans Island, by which the approaches I send you five hundred from the sea were defended, he was for powder. Out collection is notgi its immediate abandonment. He had or and victory to you and yo great faith in British frigates. They countrymen with you. Do not will knock your fort about your heads free with your cannoncool a in half an hour, was his remark to chief. Moultrie, to whom its defence had been Never did commander-in-chi. 1847.] John Rutledge. tually in the battle, do more towards the attainment of the victory. But for Rutledge, there had been no victory. Lee was wholly opposed to risking the en- counter. Yet Lee received the thanks of Congress for the triumph of the day, as if it had been the result of his wisdom and his courage. S~um cuipte tribuito. The result of this admirably conducted conflict was of immeasurable importance to South Carolina. It gave her a partial respite for three years from the horrors of invasion. She might well estimate the amount of evil and misery which she escaped in this period, by a reference to what she had to endure after the fall of the State, in 1780. She was then doom- ed to drink to the very dregs that cup of wrath and bitterness which the noble firmness, courage, and intelligence of her sons enabled her, on this occasion, to avert untasted from her lips. Mr. Rutledge continued in the office of the President of the colony until March, 1778, when he resigned. Dr. Ramsay remarks: The occasion and reasons of his resignation are matters of general his- tory. This did not diminish his popu- larity. Their general history is, at this day, a somewhat obscure one. The oc- casion of his resignation was the adop- tion of a new Constitution, to which he was opposed, as quite too democratic; annihilating, as it did, the council,, and reducing the legislative authority frQm three to two branches. His administra- tion had been highly fortunate and suc- cessful. We have seen the glorious re- sult of the first British invasion. Be- sides this, with the exception of an In- dian war in the interior, fomented by British agents and the local loyalists, South Carolina enjoyed a condition of almost uninterrupted reposeorder pre- vailed throughout the province, and the machine of government, newly adapted, as it had been, to the condition of the country, worked as regularly as if it had been a thousand years in operation. Still, it had been conceived and planned in a moment of emergency, to answer a tem- porary purpose; had served its turn; and now gave way to another, which was supposed to be better suited to the neces- sities and genius of the people. Though opposed, as we have seen, to this Con- stitution, Mr. Rutledge soon received a fresh proof of the esteem in which his talents and worth were held, being rein- stated in 1779, in the executive office of the State, but with the title of Governor in place of that of Presid~. compliment was heightened B the fact that it was in a momen and danger, and with a speci; the exigency, that he was tl~ upon to resume the chair of I tive. He had scarcely taken office when the State was pen a British army under Brigadi. Provost. Georgia, by this time en into the hands of the e Carolina was easily invaded th the sister colony. Governor instantly addressed all his et encounter the emergency. T to his council it was delegat. Legislature to do everythin~ peared to him and them necess~ public good. He ngain provc worthy of his trust. At the fi of danger he had collected a co- militia force, which he had c~ Orangeburgha spot conveni tiguous to the most assailable p was not known from what dir~ enemy would make his ap The long line of the Savannah sented a thousand points, in all ingress might be easy. Genera in the mean time, had been se Congress to the South to take the Continental forces in Caroli gentleman, by penetrating into with all the regulars, and prc. some distance into the interio, some degree, opened the door tc my, and invited his entrance. portunity was encouraging, an to capture Charleston by a coup the British General, with a selec three thousand light troops, iine ed by unnecessary baggage or dashed across the Savannah by route, and began his advance the metropolis. Moultrie, wit hundred militia, threw themsel v. the track of Provost, and, retreati Jy before him, continued to r; progress, by impressing upon hii cessity of a caution which he n else have been (lisposed to This obstacle took from the inv~ original character. Its conque~ no longer to be made by a single den blow. Time was given to t! try. The alarm was spread. was recalled from Georgia, and pressed down from Orangeburg, head of the militia. Charleston - relieved at the moment of its peril, and the British a second 136 John Rutledge. frauded of their prey when almost with- in their talons. Afraid of being enclosed between two fires, by the approach of Lincoln and Rutledge, of which he was apprised by means of an intercepted let- ter, Provost disappeared as suddenly as he came. He retired upon Stono, where he was encountered by the Americans in a bloody battle, which was however indecisive. He finally left the State and returned to Savannah, which the united forces of France and America were now preparing to beleaguer. The failure of this siege and assault, in which the troops of Carolina suffered severely, pre- cipitated the fall of Charleston. With the departure of the French fleet from the coast, which followed immediately after th& defeat of the attempt on Savan- nah, Sir Henry Clinton projected a grand expedition against Carolina. It was in a moment very inauspicious to her hopes that he did so. The fruit was now ripe and ready for his hands. The bills of credit of the State had sunk enormously from the standard set upon them, and could no longer be redeemed. With a want of money there was a correspond- ing deficiency of the men and munitions of war. The resources of the country in all these respects had been greatly ex- hausted and consumed, in carrying on a twofOld struggle, in the adjoining pro- vinces of Georgia and Florida, against the British, the Loyalists and Indians, and, within the borders of Carolina, in the upper country, against the two latter united. The worst misfortune was in the extreme difference of feeling and opinion by which the country was torn and divided. Its numerical force was thus lost in the conflict, while its moral was emasculated of all its virtue. To defend Charleston with troops from the interior, was scarcely possible from the circum- stances of the city. The smallpox, which had made its appearance in the metropolis, was one of the worst terrors that could be presented to the imagina- tion of the forest population. The coun- try militia shrunk from this enemy, who never would have feared the British; and but few of them could be persuaded to march toward the seaboard. It was under these inauspicious circumstances that the State was called upon to encoun- ter the best appointed army that was ever brought against it. The British troops, amounting to near twelve thou- sand men, had effected a landing, early in February 1780, within thirty miles of Charleston. The Assembly ti its session ; its last act being Governor Rutledge with full see that the republic sustained He immediately ordered the rendezvous, but they came We have shown the advers. with which he had now to cc mere mortal effort might have save the State, thus straitenel sources, and enfeebled by ev stances, the labors of John must have done so. But the written. The British crossed ley, and the investment of th- begun on the 1st day of April~ It is not necessary to ou to follow the progress of Enough that we mention that; discouraging circumstances by was surrounded, the Govern jot of heart or resolution, a none of those energies for wh been always distinguished. C from Virginia and North Ca. swelled the militia force with to something over four thou The fortifications of the place works only, badly served wit and of an extent too great for ers properly to man. The Br nearly thrice their number, w~ troops in the service and pie occasion. A powerful fleet war and transports accompan pedition. It was at the begin investment that the following written. It was addressed t Henry Laurens, late Preside gress, who was then preparin on a foreign mission. The c the letter are unimportant, exc afford a glimpse of the tone of the writer. The handwrii Rutledge is bold, free, cap quent. The letters are burg. hand, in writing, had been the paper, and the letters rather than described or ti are flowing and graceful, will dip forwarddenoting eagern acter very frank and sangu the same time very decisive. CHARLESTOWN, March DEAR SiRInclosed you w letter for the General at Martin you will be pleased to present. mys naval force in the harhor r p00, consists (according to Ti count this afternoon, when h 1847.] Suzcide. em very distinctly) of one 50, two 44, six 28 to 32, and five 20 gun ships ;~ the [name illegible~ of 18 guns; two brigantines, of 16 guns; one sioop of 10, and four galleys. Inctuding vessels of all sorts, they have 121 sail. Amongst them are, it is believ- ed, the Hancock, Raleigh and Delaware. Of their land force we have no authentic account, but it is said to be between I and 8,000 men, who are between Fort Johnson and Wra~,s Barony. The troops from Georgia, about 5 or 600, and who were yesterday morning at the 13 mile house, on the road from Jacksonborou0h to Stono, I presume, effected a junction with them last night. Major Young can, I suppose, give you any further material information relative to matters here. I cant say that I flatter myself with any expectation of re- lief from the French islands. I doubt not, and request, that you will make such re- presentations as may be most proper, and use the most effectual means to obtain it. With my best wishes for a pleasant voya0e, a successful issue to your negotiations, and a speedy and happy return to us, I am, with great esteem, dear sir, your most obedient servant, J. RUTLEDGE. P. SThe vessel which has been reckoned a 64 is not; but is the Renown, of 50 guns. The Hon. HENRY LAURENS. In this letter was an inclosure ad- dressed to the Marquis de Bouill~m. CHARLESTOWN, So. Caro- lina, .AJarch 20, 17b0. 5 SIRThe Honorable Mr. Laurens, late President of Congress, and appointed by them to execute an important commis- sior~ in Europe, will do me the favor of presenting this letter to your Excellency, and I flatter myself that you will readily accommodate him with the means of faci. litatinghis voyage. This gent1 give you full and authentic inf( the strength and operations of I in this State, and as speedy su would render essential service ed States of America, I persu that you will with pleasure affc they may be spared from the f your command, consistently wil ty of his most Christian majest~, With great esteem, & c., J. Ru The assistance thus solicited accorded, or it came too late tc service. The British investm pressing to completion, whe Lincoln insisted upon the dc Governor Rutledge from the tc der not only that he might danger of captivity, hut that be more at liberty to operate nor, in the collection of levi assistance of the place. He Ic ton, accordingly, on the 12th and on the 12th of May the surrendered. Famine had III: pearance, in alliance with arms, and after a stout resist~ weeks, the spirit and firmness rison succumbed; a misfortu in its influence upon the po~ as well at home as in other Si very doubtful, whether it had better, following out the policy ington, to have kft the city tc first, without offering to defem economizing the physique of t for those open fields in which have heen more successfully fully employed. The histor ernor Rutledge is, henceforth, State, but the conclusion nv served for future pages. SUICIDE. BY A SOUTHERN PHYSICIAN. THE history of Suicide seems to us to ducements imaginable. Ca; constitute one of the most interesting protracted punishment to b. chapters in the book of Human Nature. than he could bear, yet Wa. The love of life would appear to be the death, and shrunk from the n strongest instinct implanted in us; and killed by any one who shoul yet, in all ages, stations and conditions hut, in modern times, a reasor of men, it yields, not only to Tehement educated and intelligent J~ impulses and weighty considerations, but kills himself because he is t to the slightest and most transient in- toning and unbuttoning. Peter Timothy, editor of a newspaper.

A Southern Physician A Southern Physician Suicide 137-145

1847.] Suzcide. em very distinctly) of one 50, two 44, six 28 to 32, and five 20 gun ships ;~ the [name illegible~ of 18 guns; two brigantines, of 16 guns; one sioop of 10, and four galleys. Inctuding vessels of all sorts, they have 121 sail. Amongst them are, it is believ- ed, the Hancock, Raleigh and Delaware. Of their land force we have no authentic account, but it is said to be between I and 8,000 men, who are between Fort Johnson and Wra~,s Barony. The troops from Georgia, about 5 or 600, and who were yesterday morning at the 13 mile house, on the road from Jacksonborou0h to Stono, I presume, effected a junction with them last night. Major Young can, I suppose, give you any further material information relative to matters here. I cant say that I flatter myself with any expectation of re- lief from the French islands. I doubt not, and request, that you will make such re- presentations as may be most proper, and use the most effectual means to obtain it. With my best wishes for a pleasant voya0e, a successful issue to your negotiations, and a speedy and happy return to us, I am, with great esteem, dear sir, your most obedient servant, J. RUTLEDGE. P. SThe vessel which has been reckoned a 64 is not; but is the Renown, of 50 guns. The Hon. HENRY LAURENS. In this letter was an inclosure ad- dressed to the Marquis de Bouill~m. CHARLESTOWN, So. Caro- lina, .AJarch 20, 17b0. 5 SIRThe Honorable Mr. Laurens, late President of Congress, and appointed by them to execute an important commis- sior~ in Europe, will do me the favor of presenting this letter to your Excellency, and I flatter myself that you will readily accommodate him with the means of faci. litatinghis voyage. This gent1 give you full and authentic inf( the strength and operations of I in this State, and as speedy su would render essential service ed States of America, I persu that you will with pleasure affc they may be spared from the f your command, consistently wil ty of his most Christian majest~, With great esteem, & c., J. Ru The assistance thus solicited accorded, or it came too late tc service. The British investm pressing to completion, whe Lincoln insisted upon the dc Governor Rutledge from the tc der not only that he might danger of captivity, hut that be more at liberty to operate nor, in the collection of levi assistance of the place. He Ic ton, accordingly, on the 12th and on the 12th of May the surrendered. Famine had III: pearance, in alliance with arms, and after a stout resist~ weeks, the spirit and firmness rison succumbed; a misfortu in its influence upon the po~ as well at home as in other Si very doubtful, whether it had better, following out the policy ington, to have kft the city tc first, without offering to defem economizing the physique of t for those open fields in which have heen more successfully fully employed. The histor ernor Rutledge is, henceforth, State, but the conclusion nv served for future pages. SUICIDE. BY A SOUTHERN PHYSICIAN. THE history of Suicide seems to us to ducements imaginable. Ca; constitute one of the most interesting protracted punishment to b. chapters in the book of Human Nature. than he could bear, yet Wa. The love of life would appear to be the death, and shrunk from the n strongest instinct implanted in us; and killed by any one who shoul yet, in all ages, stations and conditions hut, in modern times, a reasor of men, it yields, not only to Tehement educated and intelligent J~ impulses and weighty considerations, but kills himself because he is t to the slightest and most transient in- toning and unbuttoning. Peter Timothy, editor of a newspaper. 138 Suicide. The obscurity of the motives of the Suicide has occasioned a very general belief in the proposition laid down by Burrows, that a propensity to self- destruction, like any other peculiar de- lusion, is but a symptom of deranged intellect (p. 413)in other words, that the Suicide is always insane. But this author, like all others who maintain his views, falls into the most obvious incon- sistencies. Anxious to stamp the act with reprobation, he contends, a few pages farther on, that there is fre- quently much of vice in it, and caprice too, and that it becomes a real vice when it assumes the type of an epidemic. It is then, he says, the effect of imi- tation; those who fall into it may be weak and wicked, but it is not the result of that physical disorder of the intellec- tual faculties which is the essence of in- sanity, (p. 440)a strange and con- fused expression. He forgets that many physical disorders are unquestionably promoted and excited by imitation. Epi- lepsy spreads remarkably in this way, as in the Haerlem almshouse in the time of Boerhaave, and as we see every day in the epilepsy, chorea, and hysteria of religious assemblies in our own country. That many insane persons commit Sui- cide is doubtless true; nay, the propen- ~sity to it may be said to constitute the prominent symptom of some lunacies, but those err, we think, who make it the essential element of a separate order of insanity. Neither the hypocbon~riac, nor the melancholic, show this tendency with any degree of uniformityand in all madmen, the disgust of life may at any time suddenly develope itself. The English law, harsh in making suicide in itself a feloniotis crime, compensates by its merciful construction. It the mind be overpowered by.grief, sickness, infir- mity, or other accident, as Sir Matthew Hale expresses it, the law presumes the existence of lunacy. The law in this point is compassionately wrong; for there is no act of human life that can be proved to be more rationally and consist- ently planned, than the act of leaving it in an infinite number of instances. When we hear of the voluntary death of a wo- man who has lost her honorof a mon- arch dethronedof a warrior beaten in his last battleas when Brutus falls upon his sword after the fatal field of Phillippiof a merchant irretrievably ruined in fortune and creditof a physi cian whose reputation is hopc ed, as in the melancholy cac tendant upon the Princess C R. Croft), we are ready to ar however shocked we may be that it is suggested by feelin to our whole race. The jud be unsound to a certain e~ Suicide, but in whom shall without a flaw? He choos& refuge, because of the assurn bility of enduring the train prospect; just as the duelist meet his antagonist, because~ he will be made to groan und. portable burden of obloquy a~ You may demonstrate that error, but you do not thus to be insane. Colton (Lacon self after writing the followi When life is unbearable, d~ rable, and suicide justifiable. Shall we then pronounce s the English law, to be crimi in the sane? The reasonin subject, both in ancient a times, are very full and exqui nious, and the authorities on extremely respectable. In days of yore, Zeno, Epi rates himself, Seneca, Cicero Elder, more recently Hui~ Rousseau, De Stael, Montesq taigne, Gibbon, Voltaire, S Moore, have offered us opini guments favorable to a mane his own life. Seneca understood the sto ly to teach, if we may so phrr philosophy of suicide. says of Socrates, te doceL necesse erit; alter (Zeno) an cesse erit. And, although x~ numerous expressions of among both the. Greek and La yet there was (loubtIess in the most enlightened Pagans a pronounced toleration, if not approval of it, under numen genciesas when practise who wished to avoid great pa sonal suffering of body and those who considered the act vindication of their honor, an who sacrificed life as an c others in any way. MonI us from Tacitus, that in the I berius, those who, being c waited for execution, were d the privilege of sepulture an 1847.1 Suicide. will; but if they anticipated the heads- man, they were buried, and could trans- mit to their heirs the property they left. We do not know of any code of religi- ous laws by which Suicide is specially denounced, or indeed even named. In the Old Testament, we have the suicidal vengeance of Samson against the Phi- listines related without a word of repro- bationand the same is true of Sauls and his armor-bearers, and Ahitophels. Rasis, in the Apocrypha, like Samson, prayed devoutly just before his self-im- molation. In the New Testament, Judas Iscariot is the only suicide whose story is told. Paley acknowledges that there is to be found in the Bible neither any ex- press determination of the question, nor sufficient evidence to prove that the case of Suicide was in the contemplation of the law which prohibits murder Du- verger de Haurane, abbot of St. Cyran, regarded as the founder of Port Royal, says, in his treatise on Suicide in 1608, that io the 6th commandment self-mur- der seems no less to be comprised than murder of our neighbor. But if there are cases in which it is allowable to kill our neighbor, there are likewise cases in which it is allowable to kill ourselves. A man may kill himself for the good of his prince, for that of his country or for that of his re1ations.~~* Job seems to us to make a pious enough but evasive re- ply to his wife, when she advises him, in the midst of his afflictions, to curse God and die. Shall J receive good at the hand of God and shall I not receive evil ? which rather refers to the first part of her exhortation than the last. in the Koran we find nothing said of Su- icide. The inferences, from the general tenor of the Mohamedan creed, are the same as those we draw from that of the Jew and Christian. Murder is a crime for which a man may justly be put to death (p; 116, vol. ii.); andin the 17th chapter (Sales translation), entitled the night jouriieyInfanticide is prohibit- ed: Kill not your children for fear of being brought to want; we will provide for them and for you; verily, the killing of them is a great sin. We have careful- ly looked over the Institutes of Menu, as given us by Sir Win. Jooc.: from containing any injunctio self-destruction, they favor it Otis contingencies as meritorio- atoryof which take the foll ample. Among the penance~ sins are expiable (p. 137), crime of the killing a man cerdotal class being under con it is said, If the slayer be of tary class, he may voluntari himself as a mark to archers his intention~ or, according stances, may cast himself headl, or even till he die, into bla~ Indeed, there is no moral te Zoroaster, from whom we ha~ plicit precept on this point bidden, says this wise Eas quit a post without the peru the commander. Life is th~ man. Confucius praises tho~- content with their condition, chief disciple Cusu adds, that fect man desireth nothing beyc with submission and art even pects whatever Heaven shall o cerning him. Among the c1 ings of Publius Syrus often says the Rev. Sidney Smith, readwe have this apophthe~ dies twice who dies by his ow True and pithyanticipation both occur to him. But it must be admitted that of Revelation is sufficiently dc this subject. We may affirm, many of the ancientsPliny tL er among themnay Cicero comprehended (perhaps a little the great principleso beauti eloquently advocated by Carl Duty is the purposethe ot causethe motive of our exist it my duty to live? I must live whatever evils and difficulties. duty to die? I must yield my Ii! sacrifice. It is not right with to say, patet exitus. Fate hinder your retreat. Nor d hinder any other wrong whicV be tempted to perpetrate. If reasonably questioned whether people has a right to take awa of any manwhether it is the * Casus Regius l3ayle says he has not read the hook, hut that there are 34 case~ St. Cyran thinks Suicide justifiable. Two Roman ladies were sainted, says Montaigne (in loco), for committing preserve their honor. 140 Suicide. do sois it not more reasonable to ques- tion the right and the duty of any man to settle that question for himself alone a question that must come up before him, in all human probability, when in a very unfit state for its decisionwhen, to use the fine phrase of Sir Matthew Hale, the mind is overpowered by grief, sick- ness, infirmity or other accident. We have been cognizant, professedly and otherwise, of many suicides with their attendant contingenciesand we know of but one in which we do not believe that if the catastrophe had been postponed for but a short period, there would have been abundant reason offered for a change of views. It is curious to compare the course of human laws on this interesting topic. The Greeks considered Suicide as a hei- nous crime, and classed it, as Potter tells us, with treason, conspiracy, and sac- rilege; but the laws were little enforced. In the island of Ceos,* one of the Cy- clades, it was the custom of the people to poison themselves at a certain age. Stra- ho say-s it was enforced, particularly on the women, at 60. Some say it was aconite that was administered, others hemlock juice. The air is healthy and the people disposed to longevity. Among the Massilians, and, indeed, in some por- tions of the Roman Empire, the magis- trates had the power of deciding whether a person applying should be permitted to kill himself. Valerius Maximus tells us, that he was present when a lady of 90 drank poisontaking advantage of the visit paid to her neighborhood by Pom- pey, whom he accompanied on his jour- ney, and whose presence, she thought, would give eclat to the occasion. (Bayle.) In Justinians code it is clearly set forth that suicide is not regarded as a crime in itself. The confiscation of property, the penalty of some suicides expressly pointed out, was not inflicted when any one killed himself either through weari- ness of life or an impatience under pain and ill health, for a load of debt, or for any other reason not affecting the state or public treasury. lt was, so to speak, a mere fiscal crime. We have already an- nounced our own opinion. It is our duty to live until it clearly appears to be our duty to dieand upon tb no one, in any imaginable ca~ be allowed to decide for him this element of solitarywe ~ fish-determination of this matter, that constitutes self -in- himself has often decided it, the martyr is not a suicide. decides it for us, and the pab dier, the Jbrlorn hope, is no Society, that is, the communi~ we live, decides it for usar ist is not a suicide.t Upon th settled and adjudicated by g sent of civilized man, Whyt after inoculating himself for was not a suicidenor Ho he ventured into the deadly p nor Foy, nor Flirth, nor Ci any other principle, these are in the criminal sense; that engaged ia desperate ent. which their own lives were rentlyinevitable forfeit. We will dispose here, brie gument or imputation agai which has become curren enough, as in the case of d a man kills himself because to live. In the words of ti lish epigram, When all the blandishment gone, The coward sneaks te death,t on. It is absurd, says Voltai~ this weakness. None but a can surmount the most pow of nature. This strength i~ that of frenzy; but a frantic weak. As good poetry and can be adduced in opposif gives us the following line young lady suicide in her wi 0 death, thou pleasing end c Thou cure for lifethou great low Still mayst thou fly the cow slave, And thy soft slumbers on brave. The shrinking of nature at act of self-murder, is well & case of Sir S. Romillyth Zia, Zea, Ceos, Cea. j We do not know that we could agree wiih this sentiment, were it not tin. elist never expects to fall in the encountenED. AM. Rzv. 1847.] Suzcide. just, the gifted, the pious.~ Deeply at- In every country where regis tached to his beloved wife, he was more been kept, the proportion of than once heard to say, during their hap- found to have increased; whc py union, that he could not survive her infer that the propensity to it loss. Soon after her death, he drew a the results of civilization. It razor across his throat one morning, and ever, far from being unknow was found lifeless on the floor of his savages and the half-civiliz dressing-roombut it was evident that One would suppose that self.d he had, in the brief interval between the could inspire in the breast of a act and the moment of ceasing to live, Hindostan, very little horror, a. repented of the deed. He had thrust a as he is to the self-immolation towel into the gaping wound, and had recommended in his religious c made a step or two towards his hell, with the wheels of the car of Jugg the probable purpose of calling for help. the turbid waters of the sacre The statistics of suicide present some and in the detestable Suttee. curious and unexpected facts. As to speaking, in regard to the sev. age, we find from Quetelet that the num- or races of men, the lower tF ber of suicides increases with advancing intellect, the less advanced if lmfethe minimum being between 30 the fewer cases of suicide sc and 40 years. In Caspars tables, for found; yet our knowledge n some unknown reason, the number of head is vague and inconclu; young persons, that is between 10 and France it is in inverse ratio to 30, perishing in this way in Berlin, is lectual cultivation in the prov very high.t Prevost gives us a table, in is, in the department of the S which of 133, 65 were over 50 years of 2400; Haut Loire, 1 in 163,0 age. Zeno hung himself at 98, having not known that any of the low broken his thumb. Suicide is always animals practice self-murder, more frequent in the summer months, except the alledged cases of tW the maximum occurring in July. (Bur- and ~attlesnake, of whom it jz rows.) The proportion of male to fe- to be true, under certain circu male suicides varies in different places. but the legend is doubtful. It is 5 to 1 in Berlin; 2 to 1 in Paris; 4 The modes of suicide differ to I in Geneva. In towns it is more fre- in different places and at differ. quent than in the country, in the propor- In the neighborhood of a lake tion of 14 to 4. The difference in differ- drowning seems to be the favo ent cities and countries, is as strange as Paris or Geneva. In Berlin, it is striking. The ratio in Copenhagen, tion ranks the highest. Fire-a which stands highest on the list, accord- second everywhere, we believe, ing to Balbi, is 1 in 1000; in Paris, 1 in may be the first. In Paris asph 2040; in Berlin, 1 in 2941; in London, is quite fashionable. Chemists 1 in 5000 4 in New York, 1 in 7797; of science set the example, v- Boston, I in 12,500; Baltimore, 1 in rallylovers follow it not less 13,656; Philadelphia, 1 in 15,875 Bal- deforms the body little, admit. bi gives the proportion throughout all versation and caresses during th France, as I in 20,740 inhabitants; Prus- and offers comparatively little sia, 1 in 14,404; Austria, 20,900; Rus- ence or suffering. Men use sian Empire, 1 in 49,182. The French and cutting instruments in vast proportion is nearly confirmed by a cal- proportion than women, wh culation made by Quetelet, who deduces themselves or take the course from the general records of the criminal Bailey. Among the ancients, courts of that kingdom, the ratio of 1 ity seem to have preferred ye suicide to 18,000 inhabitants. In the as Seneca did. Some poisons ~ department of the Seine, he calculates it chosen, as hemlock. Some of at 1 in 2400; and in Geneva, 1 in 3900. modes are strange and unacco * Piousnotwithstanding the inference drawn by the London Quarterly Rev 1845, (in an article on Lady Hester Stanhope,) from a prayer left among his 0: he was not a believer, in the ordinary sense. t Schlegel states, that between 1812 and 1821, no less than 30 children of and years, commdted suicide, either because they were tired of existence, or ha- some trifling chastisement. (Winslow.) t Quetelet, p. 80. Burrows, p. 443. VOL. VI.NO. II. 10 142 Suicide. prompted by unintelligible caprice or by necessity Chenier thrust a key down his throat, and we have just had a recent case of the same kind in one of the Med- ical Journals, in a woman. From Wins- low we have a story of a jealous woman watched carefully, who put herself to death by swallowing large pieces of broken glass, with which she had in vain attempted to cut her throat. Portia swal- lowed live coals, and Beatty tells of a young man who beat himself to death by striking his head against the wall. A queer fellow shot himself off with an im- mense rocket, to the stick of which he bound himself. A man who wished to attract attention to the circumstance of his death, hung himself with the bell- rope of the church of Fressonville, in Picardy, which, sounding strangely and at an unusual time, the people ran to see what was the matter. They cut him down and restored him. Falls from a height always aniount to a large sum, which would surprise us, as it is a shock- ingly painful mode of death, if we were not provided with an explanation in the love of notorietywhich made Empedo- des cast himself into Vesuviusthe Englishman Mawe roll down the great Egyptian pyramid, and Miss , a cockney girl, jump over the balustrade of the Monument. And this leads me to the consideration of the motive of sui- cide, a profoundly obscure, but deeply interesting portion of my subject. XVe place very little confidence in the statis- tics provided for us here, for the plain reason, obvious to every one who has any personal or private knowledge of the subject, that the apparent motive is very seldom the real one. From the London Medical and Surgical Journal, we have a large list of the suicides in London, be- tween 1770 and 1830. Now, of 4337 male cases, the causes are acknowledged to be unknown in 1381, nearly one- third; but of the female cases, only 377 are attributed to unknown causes, out of 2853, about one-eighth. Let any one who understands human nature, say whether the female motives should thus lie comparatively patenta sex whose whole life is covered with the veil of delicacy, modesty, secrecy, concealment. It is curious to notice, too, that this table attributes no single case definitely to phy- sical suffering from disease; indeed, un- til lately, it was very common to affirm, that suicide from bodily ailments was rarean error now abundantly made manifest. It is well also to remark, thu lauded by the comfortable phi his studyis proved from thc they prove anything, to be if tolerable grievance under whi. ry life is called to groan. It at the head of the two largest yet made out. Valrets, comi cases, attributes 905 to p0 more to reverses of fort next highest on the list, heir tic distress, p723whether m sical distress, does not appe great London table already of 7190, 14t6 are set down ty, and 605 to reverse o domestic grief, 1252. Darwi the fear of poverty has c suicides than any delusion, fear of hell ; and Burrows d he perfectly coincides with do not find on any table the making a great figure. Pr- proper caution, gives the motives in 133 cases. ease, now first attracting atten highest here, 34. Insanity from physical disease, 24 1 perty, 19. Unknown, 15. states his opinion, that every a secret grievance, real or ima believe him so far right, that likely to reach any definite u of causes. Of all those, of n history we suppose ourself to 1 not one was in good, that physical health. The most and seemingly causeless of case of simple but grievous In men, real or fancied impot apt to induce self -destruc among women, we cannot I suspecting the dread of the c of secret loss of honor. Like all other conditions c body, the propensity to suic matter of hereditary derivatic the numerous instances in pc this we select from Burrow~ exhibition in three sucessive the grandfather hung himsc sons one hung himself, c throat, and one drowned him~ the grandchildren drowned and one has made many det tempts on his life. Imitatio to be a very strong induce own impression is that it r mines the mo(Ie than the fact and that wherever this sort intatuation (nay, some have sort of contagious effluviur 1847.1 Suicide. supposed to exist, there is some common cause acting upon large numbers at once perhaps cognizable, perhaps obscure, perhaps quite secret. For example, 1300 people destroyed themselves at Versailles in 1793but, as we read the history of the Revolution, we find abun- dant cause why an unhappy, starving and tumultuous people, should feel in- clined to die out of the way and seek refuge where only it could-then be found, in the grave. Again, Cornel tells us that a soldier having hung himself on a post in the Hotel des Invalides, twelve others did the same, until the post was cut down; but the soldiers in the Inva- lid corps have already much to suffer, and little to enjoy, and, finding a convenient mode of exit, they readily were led to make use of it. Imitation, we doubt not, produces an effect thus far, that it sug- gests a plan to a mind despairing, and hating life. How else shall we account for the sudden suicide of the barber, re- ated by Sir Charles Bell. His prede- cessor in the Hospital ward went into a shop in The neighborhood to be shaved. While the barber was operating on his chin, the conversation turned on the case of a man admitted the day before with his throat imperfectly cut. Where should he have cut? asked the barber quietly; upon which the surgeon point- ed out ~the exact position of the large vessels, and showed how they could be easily wounded. The barber then went into the yard, and staying long, the sur- geon followed to look for him, and found him lying there with his head nearly severed from his body. Yidocq inci- dentally illustrates this notion of epi- demic or imitative suicide, by a storyit matters not whether true or falseof the denunciation. of the society of the Olympiens at Bologne. This secret as- sociation being betrayed by a spyBer- trandto the government, were treated very severely, and the members destroy- ed themselves in great numbers. As its very existence was unknown, the numerous coincidences, says Vidocq, were attribu- ted by the doctors to a peculiar affection emanating from the atmosphere, and im- itation ; but the real origin of these tragic events was in the denunciations of M. Bertrand. The suicid reign of terrorthose of Yala fellow-condemned for exam nothing more of imitation in the mode; a dagger handed f~ the other; and the like. Beti less, if one had no restraining than the transit through the ri infuriated and cruel populace, fel the venerable Bailly; or t.. lion of the stern but sincere P regard to particular instances motive is open or avowed~ struck with the insufficiency ducement in some of the histo sympathize strongly with Lycn Lucretia, with Panthea and I above all with Arria, most a devoted of wives, and with the contrasted case of Dr. Darwin who complained to him that in the morning, and a warm pa pack of cards in the evening, all that life affords. It seems~ and natural that after fifty yeai a life, he got tired of it and shc Mr. II. Legare told me of a ca~ to him professionally, in whi. becoming responsible for a was unfortunate in business, w instructed that death would rc from his liabilities, upon whici his pockets with stones and leapc water, dying to save his proper children.* Valret relates the c apothecary, who, having recei proof from his sweetheart, blev brains, having written on When a man knows not how his mistress he ought to know die. Winslow tells us of a C pensioner who, having his a stopped for some misconduct~ himself with his spectacles, s for the purpose. Foder~ give c1lef-dm~vre of suicidal coolness, of an Englishman who adverti he would put himself to death for the benefit of his wifeand admission, one, guinea. Winslo this without comment, hut it is ir Curiosity is avowed as his mo~ young Polish suicide in New July, 1836, in the lines followir in his chamber: * A similar case occurred in France during the conscription, when the only aged pair having drawn the fatat bittet, the infirm old father drowned himsetf, scrap of paper, on which was written: My boy is now the only son of a wido~ course an exempt. 144 Suzcide. Cigit un qui toujours douta mark that in the majority if Dieu par lui fut mis en probleme tion is greatly in favor of si 11 dout~ de son etre meme ; ratio, however, differs in dii Enfin de douter ii sennuya, tries, and among different r~ Et las de cette nuit profonde Matte Brun dwells forcibly ii Par ce beau temps ii est parti ference of the propensity to Pour voir de suite en lautre monde IDe qu ii faut croire en celuici. ferent tribes. Crimes again~ are frequent in the Pelasgia Which we translate thus, pretty lite- its ramifications; crimes agni rally: in the Germanic. Compar ment with the tables given ii Here lies a sceptic who was always doubt- let, and we shall find th~ ing, crimes against the person are The proofs even of a God above him scout- tio of suicide is lowerwhc ing; against property, it is highe To his own consciousness he made resist- sia, Hermann says that the n ance, icides is almost equal to i And was uncertain of his own existence; cides. In France there are So, tired of doubt and darkness altogether, to one homicide; in Prussia: Taking advantage of this genial weather, cides to one suicide; in Spa He seeks in haste the other worlds abyss To learn what mortals must believe in homicide carries it. In th this.~ mixed, as in Great Britain country, it is intermediate. In conclusion we will make afew obser- We know no mysteries r~ vations upon the difficulty of determin- or tantalizing than some of ing the question of Suicide in doubtful sitions. Every one remem cases. These are far more frequent than of Calas. Those of Pichc one would be apt to imagine, yet the dis- Duke of Essex (1683) will tinction is often important between acci- ever reasons for opposite opi dental and sudden death on the one hand, Duke of Bourbons death or death from violence on the other. In quite as mysterious as any regard to the first, take the case of L. E. Finally, we will remark L. which must ever remain an unsolved reading and observation o mystery. Liable to spasms, for which choly subject have resulte her only relief was found in Prussic duction of a sentiment of ii Acid, she was found in her chamber, ly- for the unhappy suicide. ing on the floor, with the bottle open on may have been revolted the table. There were many causes for countable levity with which tedium vit~, but she was newly married doneor shocked at the and had shown no suicidal disposition. profanity preceding itor When in cases of unexplained death cir- der by the reckless care~ cumstances have raised the often very which the awful change difficult question as to homicide, we re- was ventured uponor asti ~ Digby (Ages of Faith) quotes from Euripidessome one speaking of cL~OlJ~ & v i5oii~oig Ic~6uercLiHe knows all about it nowand I HadesA;~~is so called, not, as is generally supposed, from not seeing, seeing and knowing all things clearly. This common sentiment, that at death a great problem is to he solved riddle readis expressed in the last words of the leading Cato, that conspi dressing one of his comrades just before they were turned off, said, Coura in five minutes we shall be in possession of ihe great secret. 1 We have before us five versions of this tragical story, which differ vex each from every other. Much stress was laid by the advocales for its homh on the manner in which the deceased hungslightly suspended, and in si any one present might place himself in a similar position wilbout suffocr books contain many examples closely analogous, where the suicide was not and we can add anoiher of recent occurrence: A young man; having brea to his room, and lying on his bed, fastened his handkerchief, which he had throat, to the bed-post, just above his pillow. He then leaned steadily out : found thus strangled. Any one might have placed himself in the precise pc tire safety, taking care not to press so heavily forward on the handkerchief, have relieved himself by the slightest elevation of his neck or shoulders, 1 both under him. The Planet Neptune. total insufficiency of the alledged motive for resorting to ita careful investigation has uniformly convinced us that deep within the recesses of the mind of the self-destroyer, some bitter and intolerable grief has taken root, which, with its Upas shade and emanation, had poisoned life and all its relations, and driven the despairing wretch to a gloomy and hope- less grave. That God who alone can know the perhaps irresistible impulse that led to the fearful act, will be his safest, his most merciful just Judge, and, we humbly I abundantly pardon. Filled with awe and tender sion, let each of us pause then, rowing the kind and gentle Ian, plied to a more open and in criminal, say to our most unh ther, Neither do I condemn tI THE PLANET NEPTUNE..* WITHIN the past year, an extraordi- nary sensation has been produced throughout the astronomical world, by the discovery of a new member of the. solar system, under circumstances alto- gether novel. The existence of a new planet was predicted, its magnitude and exact place in the heavens were assign- ed, from considerations purely theoreti- cal. The astronomer was told where to direct his telescope, and he would see a planet hitherto unobserved. The tele- scope was pointed, and there the planet was found. In the whole history of as- tronomy, we know of nothing equally wonderful. This discovery resulted from the study of the motions of the planet Uranus. Uranus was first discovered to be ,a planet in 1781, but it had been repeated- ly observed before by different astrono- mers, and mistaken for a fixed star. Nine- teen observations of this description are on record, one of them dating as far back as 1690. In 1821, M. Bouvard of Paris published a set of tables for com- puting the place of this planet. The materials for the construction of the ta- bles, consisted of forty years regular ob- servations at Greenwich and Paris since 1781, and the nineteen accidental obser- vations, reaching back almost a century further. Upon comparing these obser- vations, Bouvard found unexpected diffi- culties. It was impossible to combine all the observations in one elliptic orbit. When he attempted to unite the ancient with the modern observations, the former might be tolerably well represented, but the latter exhibited discordances too great to be ascribed to errors c tion. Not being able satisfc explain this discrepancy, he r ancient observations, and fo- tables upon the observations e These tables represent very w. servations of those forty years; after 1821, new errors began which have gone on increasi present time. In five years, dance between the observed puted place of the planet beca~ able; in ten years the error ha to half a minute of space; an error exceeds two minutes. equal to one-fifteenth part of rent diameter of the sun or mc though small in itself, is lai compared with the precision observations. What could be of these discrepancies? Were computed inaccurately? T were too large, and Bouvard skillful a computer, to permit planation. Were these discrep to the action of some unknow ing body? This idea was ser: tertained more than twelve ye Bouvard, Hansen, Hussey others. Mr. Hussey even p compute an approximate place posed body, and then commen ing for it with his large refle Airy, now Astronomer Royal Britain, at that time Professc bridge, pronounced the problen His words were: If it were c there was any extraneous act Uranus, I doubt much the po~ determining the place of the pi ~ Comptes Rendus des seances de 1 Academie: London and Edinburgh ~i ~Iagazine: Schumachers Astronoinische Nachricbten, etc, 1847.1

The Planet Neptune 145-155

The Planet Neptune. total insufficiency of the alledged motive for resorting to ita careful investigation has uniformly convinced us that deep within the recesses of the mind of the self-destroyer, some bitter and intolerable grief has taken root, which, with its Upas shade and emanation, had poisoned life and all its relations, and driven the despairing wretch to a gloomy and hope- less grave. That God who alone can know the perhaps irresistible impulse that led to the fearful act, will be his safest, his most merciful just Judge, and, we humbly I abundantly pardon. Filled with awe and tender sion, let each of us pause then, rowing the kind and gentle Ian, plied to a more open and in criminal, say to our most unh ther, Neither do I condemn tI THE PLANET NEPTUNE..* WITHIN the past year, an extraordi- nary sensation has been produced throughout the astronomical world, by the discovery of a new member of the. solar system, under circumstances alto- gether novel. The existence of a new planet was predicted, its magnitude and exact place in the heavens were assign- ed, from considerations purely theoreti- cal. The astronomer was told where to direct his telescope, and he would see a planet hitherto unobserved. The tele- scope was pointed, and there the planet was found. In the whole history of as- tronomy, we know of nothing equally wonderful. This discovery resulted from the study of the motions of the planet Uranus. Uranus was first discovered to be ,a planet in 1781, but it had been repeated- ly observed before by different astrono- mers, and mistaken for a fixed star. Nine- teen observations of this description are on record, one of them dating as far back as 1690. In 1821, M. Bouvard of Paris published a set of tables for com- puting the place of this planet. The materials for the construction of the ta- bles, consisted of forty years regular ob- servations at Greenwich and Paris since 1781, and the nineteen accidental obser- vations, reaching back almost a century further. Upon comparing these obser- vations, Bouvard found unexpected diffi- culties. It was impossible to combine all the observations in one elliptic orbit. When he attempted to unite the ancient with the modern observations, the former might be tolerably well represented, but the latter exhibited discordances too great to be ascribed to errors c tion. Not being able satisfc explain this discrepancy, he r ancient observations, and fo- tables upon the observations e These tables represent very w. servations of those forty years; after 1821, new errors began which have gone on increasi present time. In five years, dance between the observed puted place of the planet beca~ able; in ten years the error ha to half a minute of space; an error exceeds two minutes. equal to one-fifteenth part of rent diameter of the sun or mc though small in itself, is lai compared with the precision observations. What could be of these discrepancies? Were computed inaccurately? T were too large, and Bouvard skillful a computer, to permit planation. Were these discrep to the action of some unknow ing body? This idea was ser: tertained more than twelve ye Bouvard, Hansen, Hussey others. Mr. Hussey even p compute an approximate place posed body, and then commen ing for it with his large refle Airy, now Astronomer Royal Britain, at that time Professc bridge, pronounced the problen His words were: If it were c there was any extraneous act Uranus, I doubt much the po~ determining the place of the pi ~ Comptes Rendus des seances de 1 Academie: London and Edinburgh ~i ~Iagazine: Schumachers Astronoinische Nachricbten, etc, 1847.1 146 The Planet Neptune. produced it. I am sure it could not be done, till the nature of the irregularity was well determined ]rom several success- ive revolutions ; that is, till after the lapse of several centuries. This deliberate opinion from one who by common consent stood at the head of British mathematicians and astronomers, and upon whom the mantle of Newton was thought to have fallen, would have deterred any but the most daring mathe- matician from attacking the problem. Again, in 1837, Mr. Airy repeats the same i(lea: If these errors are the effect of any unseen body, it will be nearly im- possible ever to find out its place. The first serious attempt to discover the place of this disturbing body, was made by a youug man (Mr. J. C. Adams, of Cambridge University) in England. It should be remembered, that in accord- ance with the Newtonian law of gravi- tation, every hody in the solar system at- tracts every other; that the attraction of each body is proportioned to its quantity of matter; that the attraction of the sun is greater than that of the planets, only because the sun contains more matter than the planets; and that in the same body, the power of attraction diminishes as the distance increases, being only one- fourth as great when the distance is dou- bted, and one-ninth when the distance is trebled; or in the language of astrono- mers, the attraction varies inversely as the square of the distance. In order therefore to compute the exact place of a planet in its orbit about the sun, it is necessary not merely to regard the at- traction of the central body, hut also to allow for the influence of all the other bodies of the solar system, some of which contribute to retard it, some to accelerate, and others to change the direction of its motion. A planet revolving about the sun may be compared to a ship at sea, driven before the wind, whose exact place cannot be computed, unless we take account of all the currents which influ- ence its progress. Hitherto mathematicians had only as- pired to compute the disturbing influence of one body upon another, when the magnitude and position of both bodies were known. But in the case of Ura- nus, it was required to solve the inverse problem, which Professor Airy had pro- nounced hopeless, viz, from the observed disturbances of one body, to compute the place of the disturbing body. After taking his degree of Bachelor of Arts, in January, 1843 honors of Senior Wrangler, ventured to attack this prob~ tamed an aliproximate soluf posing the disturbing body circle, at twice the distanc from the sun. His results satisfactory, as to encourag tempt a more complete soi cordingly, in February, U obtained through Professor plete copy of the Greenwich of Uranus, he renewed his c which he continued during subsequent years. In Sept he had obtained the approxi the disturbing planet, whicl to Professor Challis, the di observatory at Cambridge; close of the next month, he ed his results to the Astron together with a comparison with the observations. Ti cies were quite small, ex. single observation of 169C Airy, in acknowledging ti this letter, pronounced the tremely satisfactory, and im Adams whether his theory plain the error of the tables the distance of Uranus fri which error he had show great. To this inquiry lvi turned no answer for iiearly bably because he was not & the question entirely to his tion. Meanwhile this grand undertaken by another w who was entirely ignoran gress which Mr. Adams h none of his results had yet ed. In the summer of 18 of Paris requested M. I young mathematician who distinguished himself by tables of mercury, to attem: of this problem This h. did, and his success aston rope. He commenced his by inquiring, whether the of Uranus cOul(I be recoin supposition that this body no other attraction than if and the known planets, ac1 to the Newtonian law 0 He carefully computed the the action of Jupiter and S ing no quantities until I that their influence was ir thus discovered some sir 1847.] The rianet Neptune. which had been neglected by Laplace. He then compared his theory with obser- vation, and proved conclusively that the observations of Uranus could not be re- conciled with the law of gravitation, ex- cept by admitting some extraneous action. These results were communicated to the Academy of Sciences, November 10, 1845; and such was the reputation se- cured by this and his preceding memoirs, that in January, 1846, he waselected to fill the vacancy which bad occurred in the Institute in the section of astron- omy, by the death of Cassini. This me- moir was but preliminary to his grand investigation; and it should be remarked that Mr. Adams had already deposited with the Astronomer Royal at Green- wich, a paper containing the elements of the supposed disturbing planet, and agreeing closely with the results which Le Verrier subsequently obtained. Le Verrier next proceeds to inquire after the cause of the discovered irregu- larities. Is it possible that at the im- mense distance of Uranus from the sun, the force of attraction does not vary in- versely as the square of the distance? The law of gravitation is too firmly es- tablished, to permit such a supposition, until every other resource has failed. Are these irregularities due to the resist- ance of a rare ether diffused everywhere through space? No other planet. has afforded any indications of such a resist- ance. Can they be ascribed to a great satellite accompanying the planet? Such a cause would produce inequalities having a very short period; while the observed anomalies of Uranus are pre- cisely the reverse. Has a comet im- pinged upon Uranus, and changed the form of its orbit? Such a cause might render it impossible to represent the en- tire series of observations by a single elliptic orbit; but the observations before the supposed collision would all be con- sistent with each other; and the obser- vations Qfter collision would also be consistent with each other. Yet the observations of Uranus from 1781 to 1821, can neither be reconciled with the earlier observations nor with the more recent ones. There seems to be no other probable supposition than that of an undiscovered planet. But if these disturbances are due to such a body, we cannot suppose it situated within the orbit of Saturn. This would disturb the orbit of Saturn more than that of Uranus, while we know that its influence on Saturn is ma for its motion is well represent tables. Can this body be si tween Saturn and Uranus? then place it much nearer U1 Saturn, for the reason already in which case its mass must bc to be small, or it would produc- an effect upon Uranus. Ur circumstances, its action woul appreciable when in the immed borhood of Uranus, which s- does not accord well with th. tions, The disturbing body be situated beyond Uranus, an siderable distance from it, fc already given. Now the distar of the more remote planets fro- is about double that of the prec It is natural then to conjectur disturbing planet may be at from the sun, double that of U1 it must move nearly in the er cause the observed inequaliti nus are chiefly in the directi ecliptic. Le Verrier then prop following specific problem: Are the irregularities in t of Uranus due to the action of situated in the ecliptic, at a dis the sun double that of Uranus what is its present place; its the elements of its orbit ? Thi. he proceels to resolve. If we could determine for em precise effect produced by the body, we could deduce from it tion in which Uranus is drawn we should know the directic disturbing body. But the proc from being thus simple. The a the disturbance cannot be de rectly from the observations, know the exact orbit whiC would describe, provided it from this disturbing action; orbit in turn, cannot be comput- we know the amount of the dist Le Verrier therefore computes nine degrees of the entire circu the effect which would be prc supposing a planet situated in parts of the ecliptic. He finds he locates the supposed disturhi in one Ilart of the ecliptic, the cies between the observed and effects are enormous. By va~ place of the planet, the discrep~ come smaller, until at a certa they nearly disappear. Hence eludes that there is but one pc= 148 The Planet Neptune. ecliptic where the planet can be placed, so as to satisfy the observations of Ura- nus. Having thus determined its ap- proximate l)lace, he proceeds to compute more rigorously its effects; and on the first of June, 1846, he announces as the result of his investigations, that the longi- tude of the disturbing planet for the beginning of 1847, must he about The result thus obtained by Le Verrier differed but one degree from that com- municated by Mr. Adams to Professor Airy, more than seven months previous. Upon receiving this intelligence, Profes- sor Airy expressed himself satisfied with regard to the general accuracy of both computations, and immediately wrote to Le Verrier, inquiring as he had done before of Mr. Adams, whether his theory explained the error of the tables, in re- spect to the distance of Uranus from the sun. Le Verrier showed that it did this perfectly. Professor Airy was now so well convinced of the existence of a planet yet undiscovered, that he was anxioiis to have a systematic search for it forthwith undertaken. The Observa- tory of Cambridge is provided with one of the finest telescopes of Europe, pre- sented by the late duke of Northumber- land. Professor Airy urged upon the Director, Professor Challis, to undertake the desired search, and recommended the examination of a belt of the heavens, ten degrees in breadth, and extending thirty degrees in the direction of the ecliptic. This belt was to he swept over at least three times. If any star in the first sweep had a different position from that observed in the second, it might be pre- sumed that it was the planet. If two sweeps failed of detecting the planet, it might be caught in the third. Professor Challis commenced his search July 29th, and continued it each favorable evening, recording the exact position of every star down to the eleventh magnitude. It will be remem- bered that the first six magnitudes in- clude all stars which are visible to the naked eye, and it requires a very good telescope to show distinctly stars of the eleventh magnitude. Meanwhile Le Verrier was proceeding with his compu- tations, and on the 31st of August, he announced to the Academy, the elements he had obtained for the supposed planet. He assigns its exact place in the heavens, and estimates that it should appear as a star of the eighth magnitude, with an apparent diameter of about three se conds; and consequently thai ought to be visible in good and with a perceptible disc. Soon after this communi made to the Academy, Le V. to Dr. Galle of the Berlin C (where is found one of the scopes of Europe,) requesti undertake a search for hi~ planet, and assigning its sup in the heavens. The Berli had just published a chart of the heavens, showing the ex every star down to the tenth On the evening of the vei; which this letter was recemvc her 23,) Galle found near thc puted by Le Verrier, a star c magnitude not contained on charts. Its place was carefu ed; and the observations bei on the succeeding evening, motion of more than a minu The new star was found I 325~ 52; the place of the puted by Le Verrier was 3 that this body was, within of the computed point. I measured nearly three secom cidence so exact left no do was really the body whose been detected in the motion~ The news of the discovery sj over Europe. The planet w at Gottingen on the 27th of at Altona and Hamburgh c and at London on the 30th. We must now return Challis, whom we left explo zone of the heavens, and r. exact position of every star ~ eleventh magnitude. Thez tions were continued from July to the 29th of Septem which time he had made mor thousand observations of st~ 29th of September, Professor for the first time Le Verri~ communicated to the Acade 3 1st. Struck with the confiu Le Verrier manifested in his sions, Professor Challis changed his mode of obset endeavored to (listinguish the the fixed stars by means of the same evening he swept o marked out by Le Verrier, ticular attention to the phy~ ance of the brighter stars. hundred stars, whose positic corded that night, he selected appeared to have a disc, and 1847.] The Planet Neptune. ed to be the planet. On the first of Octo- ber, he heard of the discovery at Berlin; and now on comparing his numerous observations, he finds that he had twice observed the planet before, viz: on Au- gust fourth and twelfth; hut he lost the opportunity of being first to announce the discovery, by deferring too long the discussion of his observations. The news of this capital discovery was l)rought to this country by the steamer of October 4th, and every telescope was immediately turned upon the planet. It was observed at Cambridge by Mr. Bond, Oct. 21st; it~was seen at Wash- ington Oct. 23d, and was regularly ob- served there for more than tl~ree months, when it approached too near the sun to be longer followed. Le Verrier, although quite a young man, has thus established at once an enviable reputation. He has been literal- ly overwhelmed with honors received from the sovereigns and academies of Europe. He has been created an officer of the Legion of Honor by the King of France, and a special chair of Celestial Mechanics has been established for him at the Faculty of Sciences. From the King of Denmark he has received the title of Commander of the Royal Order of Dannebroga; and the Royal Society of London conferred on him the Copley Medal. The Academy of St. Petersburg resolved to offer him the first vacancy in their body; and the Royal Society of Gottingen elected him to the rank of Foreign Associate. Now that the first smoke of the battle has subsided, let us inquire how nearly the predictions of Adams and Le Verrier have been verified. Is the planet pur- suing the track which the mathemati- cians had prescribed for it? Since its first discovery, the planet has advanced but two degrees in its orbit We have only one years observations to deter- mine an orbit which it requires more than a century to complete. The computation has been made; but the result must be received with some distrust, on account of the unavoidable imperfection of all observations. The best ohservations are liable to small errors; and a slight error in the measurement of a minute portion of the orbit, would lead to a much larger error in the computed length of the re- mainder of the path. Observations must be continued for a long series of years, to furnish an orbit with all desirable pre- ~ision, Under these cir~ttmstances, it becomes a question of the hig est, whether this body may been observed by astronomers years, and mistaken for a fixed we could obtain one good o made some time in the last would enable us at once to the orbit with nearly the sam. as that of Jupiter itself. It wi presumed that astronomers hay lected to explore the records o to discover if possible some e servation of the new planet. In this investigation, the pa cess must be awarded to an Am tronomer of whom our country be prou(l, Mr. Sears C. Walker, ington city. Mr. Walker pro the following manner. He firs ed the orbit which best represen observations which had beer the Washin~ton Observatory, b those which had been recel Europe. He then computed U probable place for a long ser ceding years, and sought a records of astronomers br oh of stars in the neighborhood oi puted path. Bradley, Mayer an have left us an immense col observations, yet they seldom stars so small as the body in Among the observations of far as they have been receiv country, no one was found w be identified with the planet. dras observations were genes fined to the stars of Piazzis The Paramatta catalogue seldo north of the 33d parallel of so nation; and Bessel, in prep zones of 75,000 stars, did not enough south to comprehend I The only remaining chance of observation of the planet was observations of Lalande. Tb. Celeste Francaise embraces 50, and Mr. Walker soon found th~ had swept over the supposed planet on the 8th and 10th 1795. He accordingly compi carefully the place of the plan. period, making small variatio elements of the orbit, so as t. the entire region within which could possibly have been c He then selected from the Hi le~te all the stars within a qu degree of the computed path. stars were nine in number; of had however been subsequeatly 150 The Planet Neptune. by Bessel, and of course were to be set down as fixed stars. But three stars re- mained which required special examina- tion; and of these, one was too small to be mistaken for the planet, and a second was thought to be too far from the com- puted place. The remaining star was distant only two minutes from the com- puted place of the planet; it was of the same magnitude, and was not to be found in Bessels observations, although this part of the heavens must have been included in the field of his telescope. This discovery was made on the 2d of February last, and on the first clear sub- sequent evening, Feb. 4th, the great tel- escope was poi~nted to the heavens, and this star was missing. Where Lalande in 1795 saw a star of the seventh magni- tude, there remained only a blank. The conclusion seemed almost certain that Mr. Walker had here obtained the object of his search. He accordingly computed the path upon this supposition, and found that a single elliptic orbit would represent, with almost mathematical pre- cision, the observation of 1795, and all the observations of 1846. The case seemed completely made out. But there was a weak point in the argu- ment. Lalande had marked his observa- tion of the altitude of this star as doubt- ful. Could we rest the decision of a question so important upon a bad obser- vation? 1-low unfortunate that among the 50,000 stars contained in this precious collection, there was only one whichcould be presumed to have been the planet, and this observation the author had marked as doubtful! Thus the question stood astronomers were afraid to admit, and still could not reject, the conclusions of Mr. Walker. The steamer which left Distance ironi the sun in millions of mites Time of one revolution in years Eccentricity of the orbit Longitude of perihelion Longitude of ascending node Inclination of orbit Longitude, Jan. 1, 1847, Boston on the 1st of March copy of the Boston Courier, the account of Mr. Walker s This paper was destined for ~ rier; and, on the very day of he also received a letter fro dated March 21st, announcin Peterson had discovered that star, observed by Lalande in now missing from the heaven: tersons discovery was made c of March; Mr. Walker madc discovery theoretically, Feb. was confirmed by an actual in the heavens, Feb 4th. Mr. V has the priority of six weeks covery. Fortumiately the orig scripts of Larande had been pre were deposited in the observa ris. On consulting them it that the doubtful mark appei published observations, did r the manuscript. Moreover 1 been observed twice, viz: on 10th of May, 1795; but as I servations did not agree, L pressed theformer,and in hi5l: marked the latter doubtful. crepancy between the two c is almost exactly that whic two days motion of the pla ing to the orbit of Mr. Walk Thus,then,we have mostu secured two good observation: one doubtful one. We can withhold our full belief. A tic orbit represents with gre the two observations of Laln the observations of the past us then compare the predict Adams and Le Verrier, with bit, according to Mr. Wa~ comparison stands as follows Adams. Le W 3538 343 227 21 .121 .1( 299~ 2C 15 323 3~ The orbits of Adams and Le Verrier agree remarkably well with each other; but differ sadly from that of Mr. Walker; that is, we are compelled to believe that they differ materially from the truth. They represent extremely well the direc- tion in which the planet is now seen from the earth, but they give its mean distance too great by six hundred millio s of miles. This discrepancy is so enc have given occasion for the the planet actually discover planet predicted by Le Verr4e we must concede that the re, occupied by the planet is from that prescribed for it b~ matician. But how has it happen 1847.] The Planet Neptune. astronomers have arrived, by indepen- dent computations, at almost identically the same result, when both are so seri- ously in error? The answer is obvious. Since it was necessary, in the first in- stance, to make some hypothesis with regard to the distance of the disturbing body from the sun, both computers started with that supposition which was genc- ally thought most probable. The dis- tance of Saturn from the sun is nearly double that of Jupiter; the distance of Uranus is almost exactly double that of Saturn; hence it seemed probable that the planet they were in search of woild be found at a distance about double that of Uranus. Accordingly, this assumption was made the basis of their first compu- tations; but neither of the computers ac- cepted this as his final result without at- tempting to verify it. They both varied the assumed distance, and found that by bringing the planet a little nearer the sun, the observed inequalities of Uranus were still better explained. The distance of 3435 millions of miles finally adopted by Le Vertier, was that which appeared to reconcile all the observations most satis- factorily. This distance corresponds to a period of 217 years. Le Verrier found that whether he increased or diminished this distance, the observations of Uranus were not so well represented. He hence inferred that the period could not be less than 207 years, nor more than 233 years. Professor Peirce, of Harvard University, has shown that this conclusion was not a legitimate one. The equations~ em- ployed by Le Verrier were computed on the supposition that the period of revo- lution was about 220 years, and they were only applicable to a period not df- fering greatly from the quantity. His equations, therefore, did not authorize him to infer with certainty anything whatever with regard to orbits differing very much from the one he employed. The true period is believed to be about 166 years, which is almost exactly dou- ble the period of Uranus. Now, a plan- et revolving in such an orbit must exert an influence upon Uranus which is very peculiar, and for which the analysis of Le Verrier made no provision. Although then, by a singular coincidence, the com- putations of Adams and Le Verrier as- signed to the disturbing planet at the present time a direction in the heavens extremely near the truth, and thus fortu- nately led to its discovery; still the re- gjon of space which they had prescribed for it, differs enormously from and their analysis is inapplic problem actually presented. the planet discovered by Dr. explain, either wholly or in pc served anomalies of Uranus ca gitimately inferred from the Adams or Le Verrier. Prot~ then, has good reason for that the planet actually disco~ the planet to which geometric had directed the telescope; its contained within the limits which have been explored by searching for the source of bances of Uranus; and its di: Galle must be regarded as a cident. But, it is asked, will not the: explain the observed irregular motion of Uranus? This is which we are not prepared f swer. The researches of Ada Verrier do not authorize u either affirmatively or negativ fessor Peirce, who has given ble attention to this problem,l the new planet is not even th~ source of the inequalities of thc Uranus; and that whatever v~ sign to the mass of the planet, account for more than one-th the effect observed. It not unfrequently happens success has given its sanctio bold and novel experiment, most forward to proclaim th. who contributed least to its when alone their assistance w May not this remark be applic injustice to some of the astrc Paris? Le Verriers second which assigned the probable pi disturbing planet, was presen~ Academy on the 1st of June third memoir (containing e which Dr. Galle had in his po~: the time of his discovery) was August 31st; yet Galles discc not made till Sept. 23d. What go doing through the entire 1846? Was the Perpetual Sec sent on a political campaign du weeks of September, that he Ic; portunity of immortalizing I by the discovery of a new wo~ there not remain in Paris a sir of the Polytechnic school w point the big telescope of theC ry? The plain truth must be tc 4stronomers of Paris did not exp. 152 The Planet Neptune. a planet within one degree of the place computed by Le Verrier. This fact is in- controvertible. be Verrier himself did not expect it. He assigned the most pro- bable place of his planet in longitude 325 degrees. He expressed the opinion that its longitude would not be less than 32l~, nor more than 335g. But he adds, if the planet should not be discovered within these limits, then we must extend our search beyond them, (on recourrait aux longitudes superieures). That the Astronomers at the Paris Ob- servatory did not expect to be able to find the planet without a long continued and laborious search, is obvious from the fact that they neglected the opportunity of securing to France the glory of both the theoretical and practical discovery, and compelled be Verrier to resort to the pa- tient, plodding German for the verifica- tion of his sublime theory. Nor had the Astronomers of the rest of Europe much higher faith than those of Paris. Professor Encke, in announc- ing the discovery, characterizes it as so far exceeding any expectations which could have been previously entertained. That Professors Airy and Challis, although they were pretty well satisfied of the ex- istence of a planet yet undiscovered, re- garded its exact place in the heavens as ex- tremely uncertain,is plain from their com- prehensive plan of observation, viz: to sweep three times over a belt of the hea- vens, 30 degrees in length, and 10 degrees in breadth; a plan which Professor Chal- lis states it would have been impossible for him to complete within the year 1846. Do we then charge Encke and Airy with a want of sagacity? By no means. On the contrary, we maintain that they had no reason to expect to find the planet within one degree qf the computed place. be Verriers own statement of the limits within which the planet should be sought for, is sufficient proof of this. But we go further. be Verrier thought his problem was capable of but one solu- tion; that is, that there ~ as only one point of the heavens in which the dis- turbing planet could be placed so as to account for the motions of Uranus. In this he was mistaken. Professor Peirce has announced that he has discovered three other solutions, which are decided- ly different from each other, and from that of be Verrier, and equally with his. Moreover, be Verric the whole effect in question t net; while it is almost certai~ half inclined to omit the ali more than one body is concerr ducing the effect. Professo~ therefore, proceeded like a sa~, well as brave general. He co a long campaign, yet his plai ultimate success almost cer~ Galle took the citadel by stoi the time the probabilities wi him. He had no reason to easy a conquest. Some difficulty at first occu ciding upon a name for the r The Bureau des Longitudes, were in favor of calling it Ne this name was given out by in private letters to different at of England and Germany. Sul be Verrier commissions his fri to give the planet a name; declares he will never call other name than Le Verrier. XYilliam Herschel discovered he named it Georgium Sidus name of the Georgian is sti in the English Nautical AIm this name being offensive to f! pride of the French, they at the planet Herschel, and after nus. The latter name has exclusive use on the Cont Arago, in order to secure an L friend be Verrier, proposes to name of Herschel, and also t~ the smaller planets shall name of its discoverer. The astronomers of Euror fused to concur in the decisio There are objections to the ph by the Secretary, some of considerable weight. The r discoverer of a planet may h: immoderately long, or ludicro difficult to pronounce, or co nificant. What astronomer cc discourse on the sublimity of science, if, in place of the names of Jupiter, Saturn, M. we were to substitute Zach shanks, Bugge and Wurm, Hlouschnewitch, Knorre and ski, Wjkstrom and Baumgartr also, if the same astronomel * It may be necessary to inform some readers that these names are not dra imagination, They are all names of eminent astronomersmany of whom at 1847.] The Planet Neptune. fortunate enough to discover two planets (a case of actual occurrence), we should be obliged to repeat the surname with a prefix. Thus we should soon have John Smith and William Smith, Michael OFla- nagan and Patrick OFlanagan. Moreover, it often happens that seve- ral persons contribute an important part in the discovery of the same body. Thus the planet Ceres was first discov- ered by Piazzi, in the course of a series of observations having a different object in view. After a few weeks the planet became invisible from its proximity to the sun. Astronomers computed the orbit from Piazzis observations, and searched for it some months afterwards, when it ought again to have come into view. But the planet could not be found. Ceres was entirely lost, and would not have been seen again, had not Gauss, by methods of his own inven- tion, computed a much more accurate orbit, which disclosed the exact place of the fugitive, and enabled De Zach to find it immediately upon pointing his tele- scope to the heavens. To Gauss, there- fore, belongs the honor of being the second discoverer of Ceres; and the sec- ond discovery was far more glorious than the first. The recent discovery of a new planet has been justly characterized by Pro- fessor Airy, as the effect of a movement of the age. An eminent critic, whose illiberality makes us blush for our sci- ence, ridicules this idea. But Mr., Ad- ams himself informs us that his atten- tion was first directed to the subject of the motions of Uranus, by reading Airys Report on the recent progress of Astron- omy; and Le Verrier states, that in the summer of 1845 he suspended the re- searches on comets, upon which he was then employed, to devote his time to Uranus, t the urgent solicitation qf M. Arago. Omitting several who have in- directly contributed to this discovery, we may mention five, whose names will ever be honorably associated with the planet Neptune, viz. Adams, Challis, Le Verrier, Galle and Walker. Adams first determined the place of the new planet, from the perturbations of Uranus. Yet M. Arago says: Mr. Adams has no right to figure in the history of the dis- covery of the new planetnot even to the extent of the slightest allusion, (Ni meme par la plus legere allusion.) Let the public judge of the candor of Arago! Professor Challis was the first to insti tute a systematic search for and had actually secured tw tions of it, before it was see True, he did not at the time he had found the planet, for interrogated his observatiow prize was secured, and he w bly have recognized it, as had instituted a comparison servations. In his eager ze; sure of the diamond, he s[ with it a great mass of ru stored it all away to examin sure. To Le Verrier belongs the ci ing been the first to publish P the process by which he ar conclusion of the existence planet; and it is conceded searches were more complete a than those of his rival. To U the undisputed honor of havi first practically to recognize a planet; and to our own belongs the glory of having body backward in his jourr more than half a century; 50,000 stars recorded by I pointed his finger at oKE, and TI-IOU ART NEPTUNE. To christen the new plan name of Le Verrier, would h. honor where honor was di would be dishonor to others, tensions are but little inferior The astronomers of Europe pi a name from the divinities ot Mythology, in conformity M established usage; and as ti Neptune harmonizes with ti and, withal, was first suggc: Bureau des Longitudes, they a to adhere to it. This is the Struve, and the other astrono- kova; it is the decision of ti mer Royal, of Great Britain, of Herschel and Challis; it decision of Gauss and Enck tronomers of America concur cision. The discovery of Neptune an unequivocal refutation to of the planetary distances. .1 law may be thus stated. If xv the number 4, several times and to the second 4 add 3,to add twice 3, or 6, to the next 6, or 12, and so on, as in th table, the resultiiig numbers sent nearly the relative Idista planets from the sun. 154 The Planet Neptune. 4 4 4 4 4 4etc. 3 6 12 24 48etc. 4 7 10 16 28 S2etc. if the distance of the earth from the sun be called 10, then 4 will represent nearly the distance of Mercury; 7 that of Venus; and so for the rest. This law was never accurately verified of any of the planets, and Ne1 a decided exception to it. exhibit this fact more clearly prepared the following tablc first, the true relative distan of the planets; secondly, 1 according to Bodes law; and error of this law. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, 5 Asteroids, It will be seen from this table, that although this law represents pretty well the distances of the nearer planets, the er- ror is quite large for Saturn and Uranus, and for Neptune the error is altogether overwhelming, amounting to more than eight httndred millions of miles, a quan- tity almost equal to the distance of Saturn from the sun. It is thus mere mockery to honor these coincidences with the name of a law. A law of nature is pre- ciseit is capable of exact numerical ap- plication. Let then the preceding rule be called 4he law of Bode; it is not a law of nature. We will only add a few particulars respecting the physical appearance of Neptune. It is believed that Neptune is surrounded by a ring, like Saturn. Mr. Lassel, of Liverpool, has an excellent Newtonian reflector of 20 feet length and 2 feet aperture, with which he has made numerous observatipus of the planet. On the 3d of October last, he was struck with the shape of the planet, as being not that of a round ball; and again on the 10th of October, he received a distinct impression that the planet was surround- ed by an obliquely situated ring. On the 10th of November, the planet appeared very much like Saturn, as seen with a small telescope and low power, though much fainter. Several other persons also saw the supposed ring, and all in the same direction. Professor Challis states, that on the 12th of January, he received for the first time a distinct impression that the planet was surrounded by a ring. Two inde , pendent drawings made by himself and his assistant, gave the annexed representation of its appearance. Error. True Dist. 1 Bc 0.13 Jupiter, 52.03 0.23 Saturn, 95.39 1 Uranus, 191.82 1 0.76 Neptune, 301.78 1.66 On the 14th he saw the ring was surprised that he had not n fore. The ratio of the dinir ring to that of the planet, wat of 3 to 2. Mr. Hind states, that the telescope shows the planet o1 De Vico, with the other Rom: mers, report that they alway~ tune with lateral projections therefore hardly refuse to Neptune offers another insta singular planetary constitutic Saturn has hitherto been the c example. Is Neptune attended by a sa this point the evidence is not isfactory. Mr. Lassel states, 10th of October he observed distant from the planet about eters, and nearly in the plane On the 30th of November, Ii served a faint star at the distr diameters; and December 3, a small star having about th pearance; and he considers that the star was a satellite. The orbit of Neptune approa to a circle than that of any ot planet. Its eccentricity, at Mr. Walkers computation, one two-hundredth part of ib tance; while that of Merc fifth, and that of Juno is mo~ fourth of its distance from the The average distance of Ne the sun is two thousand eig and sixty-four millions of mi circumference of its orbit abc thousand millions, which cire pleted in about 166 years. Ut a revolution around the sun i True Dist. Bode 3.87 4 7.23 7 10.00 10 15.24 16 26.34~ 28 1847.] Lffe and Correspondence of Joseph Reed. of this time, or 84 years; and it has been remarked, both by Professor Challis and Professor Peirce, that this singular coin- cidence must give rise to enormous per- turbations in their respective orbits. In- deed, Professor Peirce has remarked, that if the period of Neptune should happen to come within one year of double that of Uranus, then the effect of these dis- turbances would be to render its period exactly double; and he thinks that such will prove to be the fact, that the year of Neptune is e actly double that of Uranus. Should this conjecture be verified, it would prove the most curious circum- stance yet developed in the history of this remarkable body. A similar relation is known to subsist between the motions of Jupiters satellites. The mean motion of the first satellite, added to twice the mo- tion of the third, is equal to three times the motion of the second. Laplace has proved that this exact equality is the re- sult of the mutual attractions of the three satellites. It is not necessary that this relation rhould hold at the commence- ment of their motions; it is sufficient if it be nearly correct, and then t. attractions of the satellites w the relation rigorously exact. more remarkable example of th found in the complicated syste urn. The periodic time of its ti lite is precisely double that of and the period of the fourth, dc of the second. Let us hope that Professor P persevere in his researches, un determined exactly what effect Neptune exerts; and let him still outstanding inequalities 01 to deduce therefrom the element unseen disturbing body. Let that an American completed th~ which Adams and Le Yerrier co~ and let an American telescope close to the gaze of mankiom troubler of the planetary motiom that day comes, (and we believ. is not distant,) let it not be sai metropolis 6f America, the sec mercial city of the globe, is telescope suited to observatioo planet Neptune! LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF JOSEPH R~ THE history of the Revolution, says Mr, Reed, in the opening chapter to this work, is not written, and cannot be, till the biographies of the men who made the Revolution are completed. It was the fortune of our country that they were, for the most part, great men. Their abilities and their character, their educa- tion and their social position, gave them an influence among and over their countrymen, such as in no later time has, to the same extent, been exhibited. The Period preceding the war of independence had been favorable alike to the develop- ment and to the advancement of ability; and the country had not then as yet dis- carded its legitimate power. The array of names which started into distinction at the first drum-beat of the Revolution has never since been equalled. Those were not the days for demagogues. There was too little personal advantage, too much personal danger for that class. rank vegetation, and needs a than America then offered. I continued contests with the say the French, had brought up ri needed but opportunity and the of war to make generals. The e of the provincial assemblies, an fruitful nursery, the bar, ha. statesmen already. Few books a thinking, the constant applic~ their fruits to real and daily o emergencies had ripened these rity, and the world of that day k greater names than those of the governed in their respective cob. delegated by them, sat in the hall of the Continental Congress. It has happened to Penusylvar though among the most distingu that struggle-furnishing some ablest heads and the most devole. * Life and Correspondence of Joseph Reed, Military Secretary of Washington, bridge; Adjutant-General of the Continental Army; Member of the Congress of mh; States; and President of the Executive Council of the State of Pennsylvania grandson, William B. Reed. Two vols. Sw. Philadelphia. Lindsay& I3laksstor,

Life and Correspondence of Joseph Reed 155-165

1847.] Lffe and Correspondence of Joseph Reed. of this time, or 84 years; and it has been remarked, both by Professor Challis and Professor Peirce, that this singular coin- cidence must give rise to enormous per- turbations in their respective orbits. In- deed, Professor Peirce has remarked, that if the period of Neptune should happen to come within one year of double that of Uranus, then the effect of these dis- turbances would be to render its period exactly double; and he thinks that such will prove to be the fact, that the year of Neptune is e actly double that of Uranus. Should this conjecture be verified, it would prove the most curious circum- stance yet developed in the history of this remarkable body. A similar relation is known to subsist between the motions of Jupiters satellites. The mean motion of the first satellite, added to twice the mo- tion of the third, is equal to three times the motion of the second. Laplace has proved that this exact equality is the re- sult of the mutual attractions of the three satellites. It is not necessary that this relation rhould hold at the commence- ment of their motions; it is sufficient if it be nearly correct, and then t. attractions of the satellites w the relation rigorously exact. more remarkable example of th found in the complicated syste urn. The periodic time of its ti lite is precisely double that of and the period of the fourth, dc of the second. Let us hope that Professor P persevere in his researches, un determined exactly what effect Neptune exerts; and let him still outstanding inequalities 01 to deduce therefrom the element unseen disturbing body. Let that an American completed th~ which Adams and Le Yerrier co~ and let an American telescope close to the gaze of mankiom troubler of the planetary motiom that day comes, (and we believ. is not distant,) let it not be sai metropolis 6f America, the sec mercial city of the globe, is telescope suited to observatioo planet Neptune! LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF JOSEPH R~ THE history of the Revolution, says Mr, Reed, in the opening chapter to this work, is not written, and cannot be, till the biographies of the men who made the Revolution are completed. It was the fortune of our country that they were, for the most part, great men. Their abilities and their character, their educa- tion and their social position, gave them an influence among and over their countrymen, such as in no later time has, to the same extent, been exhibited. The Period preceding the war of independence had been favorable alike to the develop- ment and to the advancement of ability; and the country had not then as yet dis- carded its legitimate power. The array of names which started into distinction at the first drum-beat of the Revolution has never since been equalled. Those were not the days for demagogues. There was too little personal advantage, too much personal danger for that class. rank vegetation, and needs a than America then offered. I continued contests with the say the French, had brought up ri needed but opportunity and the of war to make generals. The e of the provincial assemblies, an fruitful nursery, the bar, ha. statesmen already. Few books a thinking, the constant applic~ their fruits to real and daily o emergencies had ripened these rity, and the world of that day k greater names than those of the governed in their respective cob. delegated by them, sat in the hall of the Continental Congress. It has happened to Penusylvar though among the most distingu that struggle-furnishing some ablest heads and the most devole. * Life and Correspondence of Joseph Reed, Military Secretary of Washington, bridge; Adjutant-General of the Continental Army; Member of the Congress of mh; States; and President of the Executive Council of the State of Pennsylvania grandson, William B. Reed. Two vols. Sw. Philadelphia. Lindsay& I3laksstor, 156 Life and Correspondence of Joseph Reed. of the landthe theatre of desperate re- sistance, and the scene of eloquent de- batewithin whose borders were Inde- pendence Hall and the huts of Valley Forgeneither her history nor the lives of her distinguished sons have yet been writ- ten. Franklin alone has, and tardily, been made known as Franklin deserved to he. Morris has sunk almost into oblivion, and until now Reed, who, in constant and arduous toil, in variety of duty, in intel- ligence and usefulness, in self-sacrifice and stern integrity was behind no man, even of that day, has been left to the meagre relation of public journals and official dispatches. To the volumes before us our space will permit but poor justice. They are at once a history and a biography. En- tering upon important military functions at the very outset of the war, their sub- ject continued in the active duties of the field or the cabinet until his life closed almost with its termination. During half that period, he had been to Pennsylva- nia what Weare was to New Hampshire; Livingston to New Jersey, and Trumbull to Connecticut; and his own was, in ef- fect, her story. Joseph Reed was born at Trenton, in New Jersey, in August, 1741; but while yet an infant, was removed with his fathers family to Philadelphia; at the Academy in which city he received his boyish education. He was subse- quently graduated at Princeton College; read law under Richard Stockton, and after his admission to the bar, in 1763, passed two years in London, in the com- pletion of his professional studies. His early correspondence, though limited will be found not the least interesting of the work, as showing the state of the colonies at a very critical period. The relations between the mother and her offspring were already becoming involv- ed; the West india Bill and the Stamp Act bad been added to the series of op- pressions whicb gradually undermined the loyalty of America; and the discon- tent was steadily growing up, which ten years later became rebellion. Reeds resi- dence in England was eventful to him in more ways than one. He there formed an attachment to the lady whom he afterwards married, the daughter of Den- nis de Berdt, at a later period agent of Massachusetts; and he there also made, in the person of her brother, an acquaint- ance whose agency led to some of the most important transactions of his life. In 1770 he revisited Englan home his bride, and then seti sumed the practice of the la~ delphia. In 1772, upon the resignati Hilisborough, the Earl of succeeded to the Colonial tween him and the elder De had existed a friendship whic death, was continued to his s the instance of the latter, an was convey& d to Reed that a~ ence upon the condition an the colonies, with one free fn ed views, would be agreeable ister. Entertaining the good that time prevalent, with reg Dartmouth, Reed undertook and responsible task, with a its difficulties, but with the that an opportunity of conve~ information to such a quarter be lost. The curse of the been the falsehoods of its gc remained to be seen if truth c made to penetrate the ears o ters. Of the correspondence lowed, we hazard nothing in it is among the most valuab1 tions to American history y& Reeds position in life, and with the leading characters, Pennsylvania, but of other him access to sound intellige longed to the class who, reso mined to resist even un every invasion of the constitu of the provinces, entertained disposition to loosen their with Great Britain; and had rather to procure retraction ter than to stimulate excite former. From such a man mouth might expect to hear was not Reeds fault if it was The letters commence with cember, 1773, and close w February, 1775. Their ton relations of the writer to th dressed, as may be supposed yet it is impossible not to be their force as well as thc They paint, in language w have been convincing, the peolile and the dangers of t blindly entered upon and sc followed by the ministry. T narrated the proceedings of tL Convention of January, 177f with the ominous declaratio country will be deluged in 1847.1 Life and Correspondence of Joseph Reed. it will submit to any other taxation than measures he has not spirit to by their own legislature. A few weeks it was upon the urgent soli after and Lexington and Concord had Washington himself that he w sealed that assertion. From Lord Dart- to remain. The sacrifice, it m mouth himself there is but one letter. It agined, was a great one to a y is dated July 11th, 1774. Of the justice with narrow means, just enteri. of the two causes, we can point to no lucrative practice, and leavin better illustrations than that and Reeds him a wife and two infant chi of September 25th in reply. This cor- it was made without a murmu~ respondence, added to Reeds connection author proudly adds, as the with an English family, were the cause woman of the Revolution, 1 of many suspicions on the part of those young mother did her absent p who could not know its character. Its justice, by her fortitude and ch. publication must dissipate all such ideas quiescence in his thus followin. of the views he entertained at this time, of honor and public duty. Thc and upon his sincerity of patriotism sub- between the commander-in-c sequently, we apprehend there can be no Reed, were henceforth of the shadow of doubt. mate nature. The expressions The insight of the politics of Pennsyl- ingtons esteem for his merits~ vania during this period, furnished by the pendence on his assistance, are connecting narra~tive of the author, is and warm. Reed was in fact particularly valuable. The causes which dential secretary as well as the prevented her, at the outset of the con- his pen was employed in the pr. test with Great Britain, from taking the of many of the most important d bold and decided stand in vindication of of this campaign. colonial Lights, and froni putting forth The siege of Boston, truly c those strohg assertions of the doctrines of ized by the author as one of the liierty, upon which some of her sisters markable incidents of the war, ventured, and the laborious efforts by much interesting light from thec which those influences were counteracted Between the renown of Bunker and destroyed, are pointed out with clear- the disasters of Long Island, few ness and vigor. Towards the tesult, as sufficiently consider the ger it seems to us, no man contributed more which there, in the face of a than Reed. 1-us descendant has narrated and disciplined foe, organized, di~ his services with a modesty as becoming and disbanded one army, and ra as his earnestness. We regret that we equipped another; few know I cannot enter fully into this part of the culties undergone from want of r work. The early revolutionary history necessaries, and the fatal system of Pennsylvania, is in so great part ob- terms, or appreciate how entirel scure, and the theme is so well handled by compulsion that Washington by our author, that we could willingly the attributes of Fabius. devote to it greater space than our limits In October Reed was forced to allow. We pass to the commencement of Philadelphia, where he remaine his military life. On Washingtons de- the ensuing winter, actively parturein June 1775, to take charge of the however, in political affairs. Tb. army, Reed accompanied him to Boston, thus sketches the condition of I and while there was offered and accepted vince at the close of 1775: the post of aid to the commander-in- There were two well defined chief. To one of his friends, who re- in this province; the friends of monstrated with him on the danger of the ment, composed mainly of the ad step, he made the characteristic reply, of the proprietaries, royalists frc 1 have no inclination to be hanged for scientious opinion and from r. half treason. When a subject draws his scruples, and the greater portion sword against his prince, he must cut his Society of Friends, and the revoln way through if he means afterwards to or active movement party. Thier. sit down in safety. I have taken too ac- third party, or rather a third c tive a part in what may be called the civil men, earnestly devoted to the c~ part of opposition, to renounce without the colonies, but more or less anx disgrace the public cause, when it seems reconciliation, and more or less pi to lead to danger, and have a most sover- for decisive measures of redres. eign contempt for the man who can plan this clasp, though with widely VOL. VI.NO. II. 11 158 Life and Correspondence of Joseph Reed. temperaments andyjews, belonged Frank- sealed. On the 10th, John A~ un, Dickinson, Thomson, Reed, Muffin, forward in Congress his rc Morris, McKean, Clymer, and nearly all commending the remodelling those who were recognized as the politi- of their governments, and cal leaders of the day. Though thinking lowed it up by the report of alike as to the necessity of moderating the tee to whom the subject was extremity of feeling, to which the two meeting of the citizens of leading parties might go, and agreeing as immediately decided upon c: to the inevitable issue of the pending vention, to take the sense o controversy with the mother country, upon the continuance of unless a change occurred in its policy; The friends of the existing or there was, among these leaders, great di- struggled against the move versity of opinion as to the best mode of The Assembly, which met bringing the colonies generally, and 20th, was left constantly wi Pennsylvania in particular, into effective rum, until the 5th of Jun. opposition. Most of them (perhaps all, Virginia resolutions instruct with the exception of Mr. McKean, egates in Congress to vote Doctor Franklin, and probably Mr. Cly- ence, were presented to it. mer) thought it best, if possible, to a compromise committee, tc continue the charter institutions of were referred,of which Ree Pennsylvania, and by the agency of the ber, reported, the result h Assembly, of which many of them were expected, only to recommeni members, carry on the government even ing the instructions to the ia the crisis of a revolution. To this delegates of the year before opinion Mr. Reed adhered down to a cer- was, however, produced. tam ieriod; Charles Thomson and Mr. Pennsylvania delegates in Dickinson to the end of their lives never the vote of the 1st of July~ relinquished it. tee of the Whole, three vot The charter or proprietary government pendence and four against ii of Pennsylvania, was thus the bone of 4th, two of those who voi contention between the two parties. The to Independence being abs. animosity between the ultra Tories and the of Pennsylvania was acci ultra Whigs lelt no chance for the desired by a majority of one, given reforms of the more conservative in the Thus hardly was that deck patriot party, who wished not the aboli- ed, which she afterwards tion, hut the modification of the charter. tamed. Its enemies, urged by the New England The Assembly was now delegates to Congress, with whom our the 23d September it met author observes, there was entire con- 26th, twenty-three memhei currence not only of union but of action, present, it passed its last v were determined upon its destruction, and ing the Convention, and a they accomplished it. Reed, who at this ever. Thus, says the a time was chairman of the Committee of ed the Charter Governmeni Safety, in January, 1776, was elected to vania. The new Cotistitul the Assembly, where as usual he took a claimed on the 28th of Se conspicuous part in the debates, and was on the 28th November, thc especially instrumental in procuring one was organized by the meeti great step towards the redress of griev- sembly. ances in enlarging the number of repre- In June, Reed joined the sentatives. The winter however had New York. Early in that passedover without any definite result, gress, at the instance of th. and Reed was contemplating a return to in-chief, had appointed hi the army, when the news of the evacua- of Adjutant-General, vacan tion of Boston reached Philadelphia. motion of General Gate The event gave a new impulse to the thenceforward he was con revolutionary party in Pennsylvania, as tive service. elsewhere. On the first of May, the On the 10th July, Inde election for the additional members of proclaimed at camp, and a Assembly took place, which, except in terwards Lord Howe arri the city, resulted in the triumph of the his plan of reconciliation. Whigs. The fate of the charter was other retraction or overt 1847j Life and Correspondence of Joseph Reed. Britain, it came too late. The declara- tion had thrown an insurmountable ob- stacle in its way. Upon the probable effects of the offer, had it arrived before that event, the work presents some inter- esting speculations. That the terms themselves would have been declined, even if the point of form had not been raised, is certain enoughbut that it would have led to results important to the relations of the colonies, is not less so. Many of the most distinguished pa- triots had, up to the time of the declara- tion, considered the step premature; many even preferred a continuance of the connection, could it be maintained with honor. New England was, in fact, the only section originally bent upon In- dependence, and it had been her pertina- city, aided by that of a few southern spirits, who went before their constitu- ents, which forced it on. Lord Howe, who bad neglected no means of securing success to his mission, had furnished himself with an urgent recommendation fi-om Mr. de Berdt, Reeds brother-in-law, which he trans- mitted to camp, and which Reed forth- with sent to Robert Morris, in Congress. Between him and Morris there seems to have been, as regarded national affairs, not only an entire harmony of friendship, but a perfect unanimity of opinion. His letter to that statesman, aud the answer, now for the first time published, striking- ly illustrate the characters of the two, and the opinions of a great and influen- tial division of the patriots. Our spt~ce will ill allow us to make extracts, but this one sentiment in Morris letter, in unison as it was with his friends views, cannot be too often repeated or imitated. I cannot, he says, depart from one point which first induced me to enter the public line. I mean an opinion that it is the duty of every individual to act his part in whatever station his country may call him to, in times of difficulty, danger, and distress. Whilst I think this a duty, I must submit, although the councils of America have taken a different course from my judgment and wishes. I think that the individual who declines the ser- vice of his country because its councils are not conformable to his ideas, makes but a bad subject; a good one will fol- low, if he cannot lead. The letter from Mr. de Berdt of course led to nothing; but Reed was present at all the interviews with the officers sent by Lord Howe to the commander- in-chief. The mission, it nc said, proved utterly abortive liminaries were embarrassed surd refusal of Lord Howe to Washington by his military ti powers extended no farther granting of pardons. It serve tarn extent, perhaps, to satisfy als that their rights could oy cured by the sword; on the o it created in the camp a feeling tainty, little favorable to discip doubts, however, as to negotia soon dispelled. On the 22d o General Howe landed at Gray1 the war recommenced, and The second attempt at negotia; after the battle of Long Island, rank was waved on both sidr futile. The authors narrativ. battle, and the operations whicl- and followed it, contains muc new and important. We heart his testimony to the conduct o casion of the Pennsylvania tro. in defence of their sister colony ed themselves with a gallantry veterans. Reed himself was the action of the 27th, and assie withdrawal of the army on thc the 29th. Upon this and the s operations of the campaign, th tion of New York, the battle Plains, and the siege of Fort - ton, the correspondence is full esting. Reeds admirable qual for his office were exhibited mo~ ly throughout. His energy and his capacity for continuous la~ remarkable, and in the restorati army, disorganized as it was by ed disaster5, were all needed. The siege and fall of Fort X ton, gave rise to an occurren. has been often misrepresented o derstood. The work not only f most honorably explains it, s Reed was concerned. The prc defending that position, isolat was, it is well known, has aiw a subject of military coritrove1 Washington, in this instance,.hr ed his own judgment to be ove~ the weight of contrary opinion. was, at the time, with the mai which, after the battle of Chr Hill, had crossed the river to F and was deeply interested in th. that place, defended as it was al tirely by Pennsylvania troops. days after its fall he wrote to I 160 Lffe and Correspondence of Joseph Reed. had been left with a force to guard the highlands, expressing, but in respectful terms, his opinion of this indecision, and his wish for Lees presence. In reply to this letter, Lee, apparently echoing Reeds language, gave to it an expression which it by no means justified. The letter reached camp after Reeds departure to Burlington, and was, as usual, opened by the commanderin-chief, under the idea that it related to the business of the department. Deeply wounded, not only at the expression of such opinions by one holding the high military reputation which Lee then did, but at the apparent want of candor in his intimate and confi- dential officer, Washington yet never lost his habitual dignity. He enclosed the letter to Reed, explaining the circum- stances of his having opened it, as an excuse for seeing the contents of a let- ter which neither inclination nor intui- tion would have prompted him to. Reed, after an attempt to recover the original of his own, which, in consequence of Lees capture by the British, proved futile, wrote tQ ~Washington, simply explaining the sentiments really contained in it, and expressing, in language as beautiful as appropriate, his regret at having, even unjustly, forfeited his regard. Washing- tons reply was such as became him. He was hurt, not because he thought his judgment wronged by the expressions contained in it, but because the same sentiments were not communicated im- mediately to himself. It need not be said that their old friendship was restor- ed. Not so Lee. At a later period, to gratify his resentment towards Wash- ington, he had the baseness, in a newspa- per article, to allude to Reeds private opinion of the commander-in-chief, as contrary to what he publicly professed towards him, hinting at that letter as his authority. The attempt did him no good, nor harm to those to whom he intend- ed it. The commencement of the ensuing winter was marked with gloom and de- spondency. Washingtons army, reduced to a handful, were driven beyond the Ra- ritan. Lee was a prisoner; New Jersey was in the uncontrolled possession of the enemy, its legislature scattered to the winds; Cornwallis with.a strong and well appointed force rapidly pursuing ihe wreck of the Continentals. lt was in this (lark hour that Pennsylvania almost of herself retrieved the fortunes of the war. Muffin and Reed were successively dispatched to Philadelphia ft it was forthcoming. At n the war, says our author, di tion of the colonies exhibit a than the majority of the c Pennsylvania at this junci militia was immediately and organized, and a large body, ~ ped, marched to join Washir~ upper passes of the Delawar sive operations were at once upon, and the battles of Treni Princeton reversed the posit~ armies. During the whole movements, Reed was excee tive; at Princeton he bore a spicuous part. Immediateiy after these eve ington urged upon Congress pointment of an additional generals, recommending Re command of the horse as a his opinion in every way qual the end of February, and agai elections were accordingly ma order was taken with referen separate command of the ho was not until the 12th of May was elected a brigadier. On I that month they empowered t1 in-chief to confer that cum one of the generals already and he immediately offered He, justly offended at the cob which he had been treated, d resolving however to join the volunteer as soon as active op commenced. The cause of the ascribed by his biographer, an correctly, to the hostility to V and his friends which already h a portion of Congress, and whi. year so virulently displayed ii ed to which that Reed had h ed with injustice to the Ne~ troops. Washington made offer to fill the situation, whic~ vacant until the election ot A letter from Reed to a memt gress refers to the subject in highly honorable to him; exp wish that rio difficulties mig consequence of a difference between that body and Wash any claims or pretensions might have, were they muc ought not to disturb the harm should exist between the clvii tary powers; he ends by a such use of his letter as wo difficulties. About the sam 1847.] Life and Correspondence of Joseph Reed. was appointed chief-justice of Pennsylva- nia, a post which had always been filled with the highest talent in the State. The offer was the more honorable as Reed had beea a known opponent of many features of the constitution. He however declined it. The spring and summer of 1777 he passed with his family, his plans of life undetermined ; but on Sir William Howes landing at the head of Elk in August, he again joined the army as a volunteer, attaching himself to the Pennsylvania troops under Armstrong At the battle of Brandywine, and during the other ope- rations following, he rendered important services, and at Germantown distinguish- ed himself particularly. The details of these actions are given in the work with vigor, and contain much of novelty and importance. We can only follow the leading events. The fall succeeding the capture of Philadel- phia was spent in an obstinate defence of the Delaware, and in efforts to retake the city. Severely as its loss had fallen upon the country, the army had rallied inder the blow, and offensive operations were constantly attempted. Reed, who seems to have been ever in favor of fighting, upon the final abandonment of the capital, turned his mind to other sources of annoyance. A letter to Washington of December 1st, one of the most remarkable in the work, urges an attempt on New York. About this time he was recalled to camp to assist in de- ciding upon winter quarters, and there took part in the last affair of the cain- paign, the skirmish at Chesnut Hill, where he had his horse shot under him. On the 17th December, the army took up its quarters at Valley Forge. The history of that winter is familiar to every one. The shameful abandonment of the army by Congress to famine aad cold re- ducecl it to the verge of destruction. It was not until the middle of January that they were made to act, when a committee, of which Reed, who had been elected to that body, was one, were appoint- ed with full powers to repair to camp and confer with the commander-in- chief. The result of their mission, tardily enough however, was the re-organization of the quarter-mas- ters department, to which Gen. Greene was appointed. Reeds services were considered so valuable that he was de- tained in camp, and did not retake his seat until the 6th April. In the begin- ning of June he again proceeded to camp, under a resolution of Congre~: to Washington, Dana and hi remodelling of the army, ar duty he devoted himself. I from Europe now infused ne hope into the nation. On the the British evacuated Philade on the 28th was fought at Mc hattie memorable as one of t~ points of the war. In that a participated, having his horse under him. In the summer of 1778, the tempt at negotiation was mad Britain in the mission of Lot Mr. Eden, and Governor John this business the author r~ During the Revoluti6n the of the British ministry was, less dexterous and successful military policy. They were little too late. Lord Howe arr days after the irrevocable mea~ dependence was adopted; and lisle and his colleagues did no Great Britain till some week news of the French alliance way to America, and Congr. resolution of the 22d April, pledged themselves to the wo the very propositions offere North introduced his conciliat sitions into Parliament on the ruary, and the commissioners the 22d April. On the 2d Washington and his soldiers joicing at the intelligence of t~ with France. The propositions now bro much farther than those of Lor the summer of 1776; they we farther than the colonies, hefo set of hostilities, had ever they stopped short of the only practicable, independence. TV sioners seem, however, this tin concluded upon the use of ances in support of their terms of the armies of Howe, Johr nished himself with gold. even less available than the ment. Mr. de Berdt had again them with a recommendation and a few days after thei~r Philadelphia, Johnstone transi him, accompanied by one frot This document possessed ever for a successful opening excel was addressed to the wrong p. conclusion the writer said: who can be instrumental in 1, 162 Life and Correspondence of Joseph Reed. all to act in harmony, and to unite to- member from his State, see gether the various powers which this taken a lead in every discu: contest has drawn forth, will deserve October he was called to a more from the king and the people, from even more arduous service. patriotism, humanity, friendship, and all sylvania elections resulted in the tender ties that are affected hy the of a majority of the friends c quarrel and the reconciliation than ever Constitution in hoth branches was yet bestowed on humankind. The eminent; and Reed, who th letter Reed at once showed to Washing- nally opposed to and never ap ton, and in a courteous hut decided an- provisions, had considered it swer declined all personal interposition, support it when adopted, wat That answer Johnstone never received; the Council. On the 1st P. had it reached him, it might, as the an- was unanimously chosen P thor observes, have deterred him from his that body, an office equivalee subsequent attempt. governor of the State. Not receiving a reply from Reed, the In connection with this ev third commissioner endeavored to ap- life of his subject, the author proach Mr. MQrriswith what success most valuable sketch of the may readily be imagined. The open and tion of affairs in Philadelphia. direct business of the mission had been recapture of the city Arnold closed by the refusal of Congress to hold tunately been appointed to th. intercourse with them; and Lord Carlisle, The consequences of his profl it seems, was speedily satisfied of its fail- general misgovernment are a ure. Johnstone, however, thought it tially known; less so that h worth while to make one further and more ble practices had commenced direct & verture, and that upon Reed. The time. Upon this subject, as w agent selected for this purpose was Mrs. general history, much that is Fer~uson, who, in her jublic narrative, afforded. It has been fashion verified by oath, subsequently detailed some sentimentalists to rep the whole transaction. The circum- man as one, whose high spin stances are almost too xvell known to by injustice, drove him, aim need repetition. Suffice it to say that ness, to his last fatal step. I the offer was ten thousand guineas and tigations of Mr. Sparks have the best post in the government. It was done so, we apprehend that by her communicated to Reed, whose contained in these volumes instant and memorable answer was end to this twaddle. The cc My influence is but small, but were it obliquity of Arnolds mind, c as great as Governor Johnstone would author,-! with its gradual d insinuate, the King of Great Britain has of the worst of social crimes nothing within his gift that would tempt his country, is as much a me. revolutionary picture as t~ The letters and this offer were, by virtue of Washington. A~ Messrs. Morris and Reed, communicated cial corruption had begun at to Congress; and when made known pro- was continued down througi duced much excitement. A preamble and of his subsequent career~ til resolutions, reciting the overtures and de- delphia, its unblushing opeun nouncing their author, were adopted, and ed the Council beyond endura the commissioners returned from their was finally brought to c bootless errandJohnstone toabuse Con- During the period of his gov gress, and Lord Carlisle to find in his rather misgovernment, his a family circle and the conversation of the Tories and his insolence to George Selwyn a relief from his vexa- his balls given to the wives~ tion. and his influence used to In the middle of July Reed resumed pardon of traitors, should his seat in Congress, and remained, with warned Congress of what occasional intervals of employment at expected from him. To Rec camp, until the autumn. During this great measure due his exp. period, says his biographer, his ser- upon him Arnold, one .of vices seem to have been unceasing. He characteristics was his mali was a member of every important corn- ed it without remorse. mittee; and being the only speaking It was amidst these disord 1847.1 Lffe and Correspondence of Joseph Reed. greatest exasperation of party, on the subject of the State Constitution, that Reed, contrary alike to his wishes and his interest, relinquished his military ca- reer, and his post in Congress, and accept- ed the Presidency of the Executive Council. The history of the next three years of his life, says his biographer, dating from the time at which he relin- quished his seat in Congress, is the his- tory of Pennsylvania. Placed, as will presently be seen, by the suifrages of all parties, at a time when political opinion was at fever heat, at the head of the Ex- ecutive department of the State Govern- ment, he threw into the discharge of this trust all his energies, and labored in the public cause with an intensity of devo- tion which it is difficult to describe, and which led to the utter prostration of his health and premature termination of his life. He became the centre of the party which supported the existing frame of government, and the accredited leader of the Constitutional Whigs. To the army generally his appointment gave great satisfaction. Washingtons letter of congratulation was sincere and hearty. Greene and Wayne both joined in the expression of this feeling; and we may add, that Reeds watchfulness and zeal for the welfare of the troops, at all times, deserved their regard. During the dark period which preceded the arrival of substantial assistance from France, when the utter explosion of the paper system, and the exhaustion of credit, re- duced the army for months tothe verge of dissolution, Reed gave no peace or rest to the Legislature till he forced from them what assistance he might. On more than one occasion, too, when move- ments of importance were at hand, as in the contemplated attempt upon New York, in this autumn, and again in Au- gust, 1780, he himself headed the levies of his State, and exchanged the toils of government only for the fatigues of camp. In the narrative of this part of his ad- ministration we find a succinct view of one great cause of the embarrassments which existed during the Revolutionthe gross errors prevalent on the subject of finance. In these respects the country was far behind its knowledge on matters of general legislation, and the middle States even far behind the eastern. Em- bargo and tender laws, commercial re- strictions, and limitations of prices, were almost everywhere the means by which the legislatures essayed through the war. Reed ap these points to have been fa~ his generation. Speaking class of acts he says The. mankind must be free, or kinds of intercourse will cc lation stagnates industry, an universal discontent. Un his opinions had, ~t first, but 1 with the Assembly, which w~ ly imbued with the popular f~ infinite trouble arose from tion. Forestalling was the the day. Its effects were ha is true, but the remedy was never cured that disease. ment in Philadelphia upon th at one time broke out into a but for Reeds firmness, thr most dangerous results. It xx 1781 that he finally, as it the Assembly into a repeal ot laws, and thus gave the deat! currency which had been up~ ry to all right, as it was coy sense. Several specimens state papers are preserved in iimes, to which we would every respect admirable. iml)ortant topics presented, in ning of his administration, measure kown as the Propi or Divesting Act, which s proprietaries of the public do Declaration of lndependenB monarch of his paramount sc the transfer of the College C the former one of a revolutio acter and necessity; and the g lition of slavery. All these he ly advocated and carried. Our space will allow us no ty of entering at large upo cate a field as his administra upon us. Reed held the str preme Executive of the State cember 1781, the constitution his office. To all who are faa the history of the Revolutic years are known as those of trials. The first enthusiasm had passed away; the slight n the new-born States had been. To them had succeeded po; ruin; in some States lethargy dogged,~stubhorn resistance which yields not, but dies fight situation of Pennsylvania was deplorable. Cursed with art tent frame of government and 164 Life and Correspondence of Joseph Reed. lions which rendered even that more in- capable; bankrupt in her finances; drained of her blood; yet withal, the State, upon which, from magnitude, cen- tral situation, and as the seat of the Gen- eral Congress, her sisters looked for the greatest exertions, she staggered through the close of the war like a worn-out racer beneath the spur of its rider. A sterner one never forced panting steed or wearied nation through its course. The President possessed moral, in as emine4t a degree as physical cour- age. Neither love of power nor popu- larity, the fear of losing influence or friends, stayed him in his path. His am- bitionand few men, we believe, were more ambitiouswas not that of the demagogue or the office-hunter. He sought public station, not for itself or for its profits, but as a field of public service. His energy was intense, his ac- tivity unceasing, his capacity for labor as ~x~raordinary as his love of it. His was an unyielding, impetuous and daring na- ture. -lie wielded the dangerous pow- er which at times was entrusted to him without hesitation or fear, but he wield- ed it never for private gain or for person- al emolument. Few persons have reaped for public service a larger reward of slander and of misunderstanding than did Reed. That he stirred up the enmity of Muffin, that he earned the hatred of Arnold, of Con- way, and of Lee, was hardly to be re- gretted. It was his misfortune that the falsehood sometimes outlived the credit of its fabricator, and found its way into the minds of purer men. It appears to us to have been however his fault, that a spir- it of acerbity became engrafted upon his disposition, which often alienated friends, and which led him in turn,to do injustice to the motives or the characters of others. In the latter part of his life in particular, this harshness, perhaps the effect of corro- ding care and disappointment, exhibits it- self. His prejudices were strong even to bitterness, and he was most unguarded in his expression of them. But with these faults, Reed was still a great man and did great service to his State and to his coun- try. We should (10 injustice to many no- ble spirits of the Revolution, did we judge them by their personal friendships or en- mities. Times of great danger often bind together men of dissimilar characters. Times of long-continued suffering often too estrange men who respect each other. It was at least a consolation carried to his grave the confi affection of Washington, of C of Anthony Wayne. The descendant, whose filii~ given us these records of his life, has discharged his part The facts upon which Reed based their substantial accw has stated, as it seems to flinching; he has also met 11w ly, and as we think with enti That, down to the breakin hostilities, Reed was desirous ciliation with England, is adir people, at least in the middle a States, were not. That he v sacrificed one principle to effe. conciliation, we have every e contradiction. That he was n for a declaration of independ it took place, seems probable. alone in the sentiment. So Ia 1st, 1776, Washington wrote countrymen, I know from thc government and steady attachn fore to royalty, will come into the idea of independency. he would have retreated after there is no such probability. recurred to charge of a disposit linguess to intrigue with the hok to be utterly and entirely man who in the outset of the fused the bribe which Johnsl to Reed, should not afterwards suspected. At the first blow went into the fight: and he w- it without faltering or hesil was not to be hung for hal Calumny has been too often great men, and those of Penns not seem to us to have furnis- tions. We have already said that the work as an important coni American Revolutionary Hii- should exaggerate little in p it the most so, after the publi~ spondence of Washington. Pennsylvania, it is the only places her services in the vex- it appears they are entitled. - which form the mass of the from some of the most dh characters of the time, and light, both upon the civil ar events of the war. We woul ular call attention to the leti. second Washington,~NAvuAN~ 1847.] Ileine: a Gossiping Letter from a New Contributor. trusting that they will but prove a pre- lude to a more extended publication of his papers. The literary execution of the memoirs, is entirely worthy of their subject and their author. The work is performed in a clear and vigorous style, and with per- fect good tastenot a slight recommen dation in our view. The n appendices contain a mass of information, which those who labor of such investigations how to appreciate. We must a- respecting the publishers. T done their part well and hands ilEINE: A GOS5IPIN~i LETTER FROM A NEW CONTRIBUTOR. Mv DEAR LEMIJEL: 1 finished Heine this morning.. I-fe has not paid me for the time and money given. The first thought of my bad bargain was vexatious; but I find, on calculation, that the loss is not very great. The volumes were intrinsically worth one half the time and purchase- money; the remaining half of the latter was well laid out in quieting an uneasy desire that could not be otherwise satisfied so that all which finally goes to the debtor side of Profit and Loss is one half of the time. It stands under a long list of similar entries that are balanced only by admirably good intentionsor, as my friend J. T. calls them, in allusion to a popular saying, paving stones. Amongthe minor inconveniences of. re- sidence in a small town, this, to a slip- shod, irregular, thin-pursed reader, is a prominent one; that he must buy at risk of disappointment, or do without many a book that he has a wish to see. There is no library or well-furnished book- store, where a pleasant half-hours lounge and the skimming of a chapter here and there give sufficient light to guide the hand pocket-ward or cane-ward. Now, the direct loss of a bill from its little hand of brethren, though its absence is perceptible enough in the want of some little luxury or comfort, is one of my least disturbancescurtailment, when, carry it as far as you will, so much good remains to be enjoyed, is easily submit- ted to- But to part with my dollar for a book that proves not worth the reading is a great vexation, aggravated by the constant refreshment to ones recollection of the committed mistake that its poste- rior presentation on the shelf furnishes. It is a compound mistake, generating whole classes-of painful emot: feel that you have paid too di whistle that yields no music; have been encouraging a prc coxcomb, or an unmitigated a~ jecting himself from his proper unless, indeed, you choose to by the other horn, in allowing you have not the ability to a that you have missed some hei that you have helped on the p whom the Devil already - enough, in a bad course; in you are, quoad this particular ass. Pardon the free use of I person in this connection. I gotten that I was writing to a I essaying to the public. W come into possession of such waste-paper, I have found the relief in sending it back at any if, however, it have a real wor not for your mind, the pleasun fying a friend of ditThrent taste gift, will reward you well fo storage. But I was to answer you about Heineor rather about bilder, for what follows won well apply to some of his othe To do the dirty work first, an his faults: his wickedness ir fearfully daring; there is noth Vision of Judgmenteither I- Southeysequal to it. The jection is to foulness and cee vulgarities ;then his attempt philosophizing, not of frequ rence, but generally little b; second-rate commonplaces- flu sages of apparently utter These are his most striking enough, you may say, to forb

C. R. B. B., C. R. Heine: A Gossiping Letter from a New Contributor 165-173

1847.] Ileine: a Gossiping Letter from a New Contributor. trusting that they will but prove a pre- lude to a more extended publication of his papers. The literary execution of the memoirs, is entirely worthy of their subject and their author. The work is performed in a clear and vigorous style, and with per- fect good tastenot a slight recommen dation in our view. The n appendices contain a mass of information, which those who labor of such investigations how to appreciate. We must a- respecting the publishers. T done their part well and hands ilEINE: A GOS5IPIN~i LETTER FROM A NEW CONTRIBUTOR. Mv DEAR LEMIJEL: 1 finished Heine this morning.. I-fe has not paid me for the time and money given. The first thought of my bad bargain was vexatious; but I find, on calculation, that the loss is not very great. The volumes were intrinsically worth one half the time and purchase- money; the remaining half of the latter was well laid out in quieting an uneasy desire that could not be otherwise satisfied so that all which finally goes to the debtor side of Profit and Loss is one half of the time. It stands under a long list of similar entries that are balanced only by admirably good intentionsor, as my friend J. T. calls them, in allusion to a popular saying, paving stones. Amongthe minor inconveniences of. re- sidence in a small town, this, to a slip- shod, irregular, thin-pursed reader, is a prominent one; that he must buy at risk of disappointment, or do without many a book that he has a wish to see. There is no library or well-furnished book- store, where a pleasant half-hours lounge and the skimming of a chapter here and there give sufficient light to guide the hand pocket-ward or cane-ward. Now, the direct loss of a bill from its little hand of brethren, though its absence is perceptible enough in the want of some little luxury or comfort, is one of my least disturbancescurtailment, when, carry it as far as you will, so much good remains to be enjoyed, is easily submit- ted to- But to part with my dollar for a book that proves not worth the reading is a great vexation, aggravated by the constant refreshment to ones recollection of the committed mistake that its poste- rior presentation on the shelf furnishes. It is a compound mistake, generating whole classes-of painful emot: feel that you have paid too di whistle that yields no music; have been encouraging a prc coxcomb, or an unmitigated a~ jecting himself from his proper unless, indeed, you choose to by the other horn, in allowing you have not the ability to a that you have missed some hei that you have helped on the p whom the Devil already - enough, in a bad course; in you are, quoad this particular ass. Pardon the free use of I person in this connection. I gotten that I was writing to a I essaying to the public. W come into possession of such waste-paper, I have found the relief in sending it back at any if, however, it have a real wor not for your mind, the pleasun fying a friend of ditThrent taste gift, will reward you well fo storage. But I was to answer you about Heineor rather about bilder, for what follows won well apply to some of his othe To do the dirty work first, an his faults: his wickedness ir fearfully daring; there is noth Vision of Judgmenteither I- Southeysequal to it. The jection is to foulness and cee vulgarities ;then his attempt philosophizing, not of frequ rence, but generally little b; second-rate commonplaces- flu sages of apparently utter These are his most striking enough, you may say, to forb 166 Ileine a Gossiping Letter But these worst parts are at times sur- some furnish admirable rounded and flashed through by so bril- brevity in wit; the thirty-t liant a wit, enjoyed perhaps the more Heinkehr, which begins, because it comes from so unsuspected a Devil, and he came, is eqo source, for the Germans, you know, and Coleridges DeviPs V. have no wit, that few, I fancy, who If you are minded to re~ once begin, leave the last page unread. which follow, rememberi If I remember rightly, my old German lose much by translation al teacher told me that he was by birth a tion from their context, I f Jew, that he has latterly resided in I~aris, better judge of the excell. and writes in French or German indiffer- fects of the Reisebilder, th~ ently. He is, then, a French-German out any more tags and Jew-Infidel. Hence a result that could thoughts about the work. hardly have come from a mere French- give you a faint idea of thc man or German, Jew or infidelan ann- vel beauty of some of his malous compound, in which, however, to enjoy them fully you m the element of French infidelity predom- in the original, unless mdcc mates. I am inclined to think that his should exert his nice and want of faith extends to other than mat- as a translator upon them. ters of religion. He affects a great ad- The first specitnen is in miration for Nature, women, liberty, and Harz Journey, which he Napoleon, which, I doubt not, is partly foot. real; but he admires sometimes so artifi- cially, and displays in general so strong TIlE EIGHT IN GO~ a bias to persiflage, that you are apt to mistrust him. He is a revolutionizer, That night I passed at but not a reformer. The tendency of strange adventure befell his efforts, so far as they are directed to lection of which still distui religion and politics, would be to over- not timid by nature, but ar throw the present order in Church and of ghosts. What is fear? State, without substituting a better, or ginate in the understandin even any arrangementhe is an ingeni- perament? I often discus~ ous, sarcastic, mocking fault-finder. He tion with Doctor Saul Ascl has rare satirical powers, though be- when we chanced to meet ing often exercised in reference to in- Royal, where, Thr a long ti dividuals and places little or not at all dinner. He used to main known to us, I have lost the enjoyment fear anything because, by of much that, to those for whom he reasoning, we recognize wrote, must have been extremely enter- The reason alone was a p. taming, and to those at whom he wrote, temperament. While I w extremely excruciating. One piece, en- drinking, he would demon. titled the Baths of Lucca, occupying periority of reason. Town nearly half of his third volume, possesses the argument he was in generally little interest for a foreign looking at his watch, and reader, being much taken up with the cluded by saying, The sayings and doings of one Christian highest principle! Reaso Gumpel, transformed by residence in I now hear this word, Do Italy to the Marchese Christophero cher rises before me with Gumpelino. Yet I can easily conceive legs, his tight, transcendew OP some wealthy Hamburgh banker and his harsh, cold coun writhing in agony as the hard skin lash might serve as a figure pl tingled on his poor hack, no ways pro- of geometry. This man, v- tected by that thin Gumpelino gauze; sixty, was a personified ii how old acquaintances would meet him striving after the l)ositive, with a suppressed smile, and shrug their had philosophized hiinse~f shoulders and crack a joke when he had beauty of life; all the suni passed by. flowers, all faith, were lost The poems in these volumes partake, remained for him but the in general, of the qualities of his prose; grave. He cherished es those of an exotic cast contain more in- against the Apollo Belvidu genious conceits than tender sentiments; tianity. He even wrote From a New Contributor. 1847.1 against the latter, in which he shows its unreasonableness and untenability. Lie wrote a number of books, in all of which reason boasts of its peculiar excellence inasmuch as the Doctor meant seriously enough in all these, he deserves all re- spect. I sometimes visited the Doctor at his own bouse. One day when I rang at his door, the servant answered that the Doctor has just died. I was no more affected by the announcement than if he had said, the Doctor has re- moved. But to return to Goslar. The high- est principle is the reason, said I sooth- ingly to myself, as I got into bed. But it did not help the matter. I had just been reading in the German Tales, of Yarn- hagen von Ense, which I had brought with me from Clausthal, that horrible story how the son, whom his father was intending to murder, was warned in the night by the ghost of his deceased mo- ther. An inward horror chilled me through while perusino it Ghost stories excite such feelings Tn a peculiar degree, if read upon a journey, and particularly at night, in a city, in a house, in a room where one has never before been. What deeds may have been committed on this very spot where thou liest; the reflection comes involuntaryadd to this that the moon shone with such a doubtful light into the chamber, all sorts of indistinct shadows moved upon the wall, and ris- ing in my bed to look about me, I saw There is nothing more startling than the accidental sight of ones own face in the mirror by moonlight. Just then a dull, drowsy clock began to strike, and went on so long and slowly, that after the twelfth stroke I actually thought full twelve hours were passed, and that it would begin again to tell twelve. Be- tween the eleventh and last stroke, an- other clock rattled off its tale very fast, and with almost a chiding shrillness, as if vexed at L~t5 neighbors dr6ning. When both iron tongues had ceased and a deep, dead silence reigned through the house, it seemed to me suddenly as if I heard a shuffling in the corridor like the unsteady gait of an old man. Finally my door opened and the deceased Doctor Saul Ascher slowly entered. A cold chill ran through hone and marrow; I trembled like an aspen leaf, and hardly ventured to turn my eyes to the appari- tion. He looked as of oldthe same transcendental gray coat, the same thin abstract legs, and the same m countenance, only that it wa more sallow than formerly, mouth, which was once open of twenty-two and a half, pinched up, and the circle oft a larger radius. Tottering and his staff as in life, he appr and in his accustomed dry styl. friendly air, said: Do not t do not believe that I am a g an illusion of your fancy, if you see me as a ghost. Whai Will you give me the definiti. Will you deduce to me the c the possibility of a ghost? In connection with the reason phenomenon stand? The re the reason; and now the ap tered upon an analysis of cited Kants Critique, secon section, second book, third garding the distinction betwc ena and nomena; then con problematic ghost creed, pu upon syllogism and closed ~ demonstration that there real ghosts. Meanwhile the cold on my forehead in drops, my tered like castanets; in ago unconditional assent to every by which the spectral Doctor the absurdity of all fear of g at last became so zealously his argument, that in his di drew, instead of his gold wr ful of worms from his pocket ing the mistake, he crowded with ridiculously anxious ha son is the highest just th struck one and the apparitior Heine is no anatomizer & analyst of pleasure; is glad sight of a beautiful flower w~ ing the number of its pistils, cal name, or its use in me ceeding on his journey, h road and is set right by a sc well-fed citizen of Goslar shining,dewlappish~ stupid-~ looked as if he had inven He turned my attention to ti utility observable in naturc are green because green is eyes. I agreed to the justi mark, and added that God neat-cattle because ox-tail sc for man; that asses were crc men forcompamisolis; and self was created that he mig soup and not be an ass. M U 168 Ileine: a Gos8iping Letter was delighted to find a man of his own sentiments; his countenance shone more joyously than ever, and he was quite moved at parting. I would commend that to the attention of certain Rev. Anthropomorphists,whom I have heard talk in a style of the most irreverent familiarity with the whole plan of creation, of which they, see but specks, and those dimly. I have been hesitating for the last half hour whether I should attempt the fol- lowing passage, and have at last conclud- ed to do so, less in prospect of preserving enough of the original spirit to make it readable to you, than for the sake of ending the discussion with myself. Still, in a literal translation, which is all that 1 could presume to make, I think you may discover some poetic merit. The air of grace and lightness produced by the lein and chenthat Heine, here as else- where, uses to so much advantage, is lost in English. Judging by the position of the sun, it was noon-time when I came upon a herd and their keeper, who told me that the great mountain at whose base I stood was the old, world-renowned Brocken. For leagues around there was no house, and I gladly accepted the young mans invitation to eat with him. We sat down to a dejeuner dinaloire which consisted of bread and cheese; the sheep caught the crumbs, the hand- some, sleek heifers capered about us, and tinkled roguishly with their bells, and laughed on us with their great glad eyes. We banqueted right royally ; in- leed my host seemed a true king, and since he is, thus far, the only king who has given me bread, I will sing him royally: A king is the herdshoy, The green hill is his throne, Above his head the sun Is the heavy, golden crown. At his feet lie sheep, Soft flatterers, red-crossed Cavaliers are the calves, And they go proudly strutting. Court-players are the kids, And the birds and the cows, With the flutes, with the bells, Are the orchestra. And all sing and sound so sweetly, And so sweetly these chime in, Waterfall and rustling firs, And the king falls asleep. Meanwhile must rule The minister, the dog, Whose hoarse harking Echoes round about. Drowsily mutters the yom Ruling is so difficult; Ah, I wish that I at home Were now sitting by my (j In the arms of my queen Rests my royal head so ge And in her dear eyes Lies my boundless realm! At the Brocken house he ladies, a mother and daughter description of the personal of the former. Her eye morbid, pensive melancholy; mouth there was an air of se but it seemed to me as thc once been very beautiful and ed much, and had received ar. many kisses. Her face was dex palimpsest, where beneati black monks writing appearc defaced verses of an old Grec poet. He is speaking of one whi loveda maiden whose is clear as truthhad she live Heine had been a better man. I looked on her long, I grew happy. I felt as if there w~ Sabbath in my soul and the ar shipped in it. Chapter seventh of Buck Lc a favorite of mine, and hopi length will not be wearisome send the English shadow of whole of it. He has been Dusseldorff, his native place, ~ was taken possession of by t[ when he was a child. And have one of the favorable vie authors heart. He remembers rately the scenes of his child his playmates and holidays- was uncorrupt, and the fact of ing on that innocent past is ~ purity still in him. The next day the world order again, and there was seb and learning by heart just as the Roman kings, Chronology, na in im, the verba irregulari Hebrew, Geography, German, tic. Heavens! my head whirl think of it. Much of it, howe~ wardscame in play. If I had n the Roman kings by heart, 1 sI l847.j From a New Contributor. have cared in later years whether Nie- buhr proved or failed to prove that they never existed. Had I been ignorant of Chronology, how could I have found my way in the great city of Berlin, where one house is as like another as two drops of water or a pair of grenadiers, ai~d where one cannot find his friends unless one has their number in his head? With every acquaintance I directly asso- ciated some historical event whose date corresponded with his number, so that I easily remembered the one by the other, and an historical event was always brought to mind by the sight of an ac- quaintance. Thus, for example, passing my tailor, I immediately thought of the battle of Marathon; meeting the well- dressed banker, Christian Guinpel, I was reminded of the destruction of Jerusa- lem; the sight of my deeply-indebted Por- tuguese friend suggested the Flight of Ma- homet ; the University Judge,whose stern integrity is well known, called up the death of Haman; when I fell upon Wadzeck, directly I thought of Cleopa- tra. Alas! the poor beast is dead now, ihe tear-bags are dried up, and we may say with Hamlet, take him all in all, he was an old woman, whose like we shall often enough see again. As I said, dates are very useful; I know men who with nothing in their heads but two of these have been able to find the right houses in Berlin, and arc now ordinary professors. But I had sore trouble at school with so many numbers. Arithmetic proper was still worse. I understood subtraction best, for which there is a very practical rule; four from three you cannot take, so borrow one, but I advise you in such cases to borrow a few groschen; for you dont know. As for Latin, you have no kind of an idea,Madame, how complicated it is. The Romans would certainly never have had time to conquer the world, had they first been obliged to learn Latin. These fortunate people knew in their cradles what nouns have the accusative in im- I had to commit them to memory in the sweat of my brow; still it is very well that I know them. If, for example, on the 20th of July, 1820, when I disputed publicly in Latin in the Aula at Gottin- gen,Madame, it was worth the listen- ing toI had said sinapem instead of sinapim, the foxes present might have observed it, and it would have been an eternal disgrace to me. Vis, buns, sitis, tussis, cucumis, amussis, canabis, sinapis these words have created sensation in the world hecaus long to a definite class, an(l theless exceptions. On this prize them highly, and it is a much comfort and consolation despondent hour, that I havc hand in case of sudden need. dame, the verba irregularia-- distinguished from the verba. in that one gets the most flog~ themthey are horribly diffictin 1 will say nothing of Greek 1 my temper. The monks of th ages were not so entirely in en they maintained that Greek wr vention of the devil. Heave the sorrows I endured on its In Hebrew I did better, alway; felt partial to the Jews, though cess was not comparable to th. watch, which had intimate acqi with the pawnbrokers, and caught many Jewish habits stopped Saturdays, and learned t~ language, and finally pursued matically, as I have often, in a night, heard it with surprise as~ ticking to itself: catal, katatta, kittel, kittatta, kittatti -pokat, pikatpikpi. He made poor progress ia ge and gives as a reason, the consta ations that the French were m~ the boundaries and government. European States. In natural history it is muc there cannot be so many chan then there are distinct prints of ap garoos, zebras, unicorns, & c. such images remain in the me often happens afterwards that in; sons at first view struck me as quaintances. His French gave him more trou he well remembers the (lifilculty and the resulting passion of his the Abbfi dAuluoi, in giving the word that should correspond to man glaube, (faith,) which he cc must be le credit. Under another he advances. Parbleu, Madame! I am sk French. I not only understand but even noble, governesses Frein ly a short while ago, I compreher most half the discourse carried select company by two German esses, each of whom numbered six years, and as many ancestors. once in the Cafe Royal at Berlin, 170 Ileine: a Gossiping Letter Hans Michel talk French, and under- stood every word, though there was no sense in it. One must know the spirit of the language, and this is best learned from drumming. jParbleu! how deeply am I indebted to that French Tambour who was quartered so long in our house, and looked like a devil, hut had the heart of an angel, and drummed so exquisitely. lie was a mercurial little man, with a formidable black moustache, from beneath which the red lips projected defiantly, whilst his fiery eyes glanced here and there. I, who was a little boy then, clung to him like a burr, and helped him polish his buttons, and whiten his waist- coat with chalkfor Monsieur Le Grand aimed to be attractiveand I followed him to the guard-house, the roll-call, and the review. There was nothing hut the glistening of arms, and festivityies jours de fete sord pass~s! Monsieur Le Grand was master of but a little broken Germanonly the leading words, bread, kiss,~ honorbut he could make himself very intelligible on his drume. g., if I did not know the meaning of libert~, he would drum the Marseilles march, and I understood him. He explained the sig- nification of the word egalit~ by the march, ~a ira, ~a irales aristocrats ~ Ia lanterne I not knowing what b~tise was, he drummed the Dessau march, which, as Goethe states, we Germans drummed in Champagneand it was all clear. He once wished to translate to me the word lAilemagne, and drummed that all too simple ancient melody, which we often hear market days played to dancing dogsdumdumdumf was vexed, hut understood him. In like manner he taught me modern history. 1 did not indeed understand the words ,~ut as he kept up a constant drumming, while talking, [knew what he meant. In fact this is the best method of instruction. One cannot rightly coin- J)rehend the history of the storming of the l3astile, of the Tuillieries, & c., un- til he learns what the drumming was on those occasions. In our school hooks we barely read that their excellencies, the Barons and Counts, and their noble wives, were beheadedtheir highnesses, the Dukes and Princes, and their most noble wives, were beheadedhis majesty, the king, and his most serene consort, were bebeadedbut when you hear that red guillotine march, then, for the first time, you rightly conceive these things and see the why and the how. Madame, that is a very wonderful march. 1 through my very bones and first hearing it, and was gIn it. One forgets such a thi grows older. A young man V else to keep in his headw genealogical tables, politics, d liturgy ; and really, in spite o fort,! could not for a long that powerful tune. Now Madame! I was lately sitti with a whole menagerie princes, princesses, chamberi ushers, court butlers, royal royal foresters, keepers of the and whatever else these exa tics may be named, and they ran behind their chairs, and dishes before them ; but I, overlooked, and passed by, leisure, and, having no sort tion for my jaws, kneaded d and fell todrummingwithmy mere pastime, when, to my suddenly caught myself din red guillotine march! And what then ? Ma people kept on eating, and aware that other people, whe nothing to eat, may begin h denlyright curious tunes were supposed to be forgotte Passing now over many pa. ing more of his characteristic and fewer defects than the san any other volume, for I thin is the masterpiece of the Rei come to a closing scene that done no discredit to Sterne except the last few sentence~ perhaps rather too melo-dra turning to Dusseldorf a gro-. where time has worked man painful changes since childhc with the thoughts they sugg recollections of the past, he d mirably and feelinglyhe s musing on the old garden heard a confused sound of h- behind me, lamenting the fab Frenchmen who had been ta ers in the Russian campaign to Siberia, detained there after the peace, and were now ing home. Raising my eyes, orphans of Glory: naked m out through the rents oIlY uniforms; their mournful deep sunken in their weather- though mutilated, weary a they still preserved a sort 1847.1 From a New Goniributor. step; and, strange enough! a drummer paragragh, which, besides being tottered along in front. I was painfully 1 odramatic, is a useless, wen~li! reminded of the tale of the soldiers who act. - The significance of Le fell in battle, and at night rose from the visual prayer was that the din field, and with the drummer at their had been used only to encourage head marched to their native city: diers of freedomthat had uttei * * * * notes of freedomshould never Indeed, the poor Tambou- seemed like crated by baser service. Wh a half-wasted corpserisen from the grave. Heine, who considers the French He was a mere thin shadow, in a dirty, tion, with its blood and its const ragged gray capote; a sallow counte- as a grand Acts and Evangel of nance, with a huge moustache that hung and Napoleon as the great apostl. dejectedly over his pale lips. His eyes g& spel, draws his sword from I were like burned-out tinder, in which a- ~nd thrusts the drum through. few sl)arks still gleamed; and by a sin- comes his chapters on authors gle one of these I recognized M. Le thorship, full of wit and humor. Grand. little mingling of naughtiness, b He recognized me too; and, taking too long to add to this letter, wb his place beside me, there we sat again already grown to almost a book. as when he used to teach me French and one paragraph from the opening, modern history. He had the same old er, that should be laid to heart drum, that he had in some way been able gruniblers who haggle for a six~ to protect from Russian avarice. He the price of a book and quarrel - drummed again, but without speaking. author for writing so hurriedly. Though the lips were tightly pressed to- it is easy for you, Madame gether, his eyes were all the more ex- mind me of the Horatian precept~ pressive, dashing triumphantly while he prernatur in annwn. This rule, lB repeated the old marches. The poplars others of the sort, may be very. shook to hear that red guillotine march theory but does not work well once more. He drummed the old strug- tice: When Horace gave the a gles of freedom, the old battles, the deeds keep the manuscript nine years of the Emperor; and the very drum desk, he should, at the same tim seemed to rejoice like a live thing in the furnished a recipe for passing air utterance of its inward exultation. I without eating. heard anew the thunder of cannon, the All classes may learn from whizzing of balls, the battle shout; I saw here is a word to the wise. Tru anew the obstinate courage of the Guard, are things in heaven and earth w~ the waving banners, the Emperor on his merely our philosophers, but e- horse; but gradually a mournful tone commonest hlockheads do not glided into the whirl of glad soundsa hend. mingling of the wildest rejoicing with He is travelling at night. the saddest wailing; notes of victory Overhead a broad clear space with a death march. Le Grands eyes in the clouds, in which swam I opened ghastly wide, and I saw in them moon like a silver gondola in ~ a broad white ice-field covered with smaragdmis. corpses; it was the fight of Moscow. A hint to laissez faire preacher I had never thought that the harsh describing a strongly spiced ser (Inlim could produce such accents of the two future states, I like th grief as Monsieur Le Grand now drew said my lady. You are right, I an from it. They were drummed tears, and He pleases me better than many grew fainter and fainter, and deep sighs, gentle homceopathic soul-physicia like a dying echo, rose from the breast of shake ~ of reason into a Le Gramid. He became weaker and more moral water and sprinkle us thdre ghost-likehis withered hands trembled a Sunday. with coldhe sat as one in a dream, After essaying ingeniously on and struck only the air, and listened as if ferent kinds of freedom suitable to distant voices; finally, turning to me of the great people of Western with a tleep, imploring look that was he closes thus: The English ma readily interpreted, sank down his head freedom as his lawful wife. He upomi his drum. ses her, and though he may not t I omit the translation of a concluding with delicate attention, yet he can 172 Ileine: a Gossiping Letter from a New Conributor. her in case of need, and woe to the red- coated knave who forces himself into her sacred bed-chamber, either as gallant or constable. The Frenchman loves freedom as his chosen bride. He glows for her, he burns, he throws himself at her feet with the most earnest protestations of devotion. He fights to the death, he commits a thousand follies for her. The German loves freedom as he does his old grand- mother. Is the following thought original? We may be disappointed in regard to the marvels with which our untravel- led imaginations have stocked foreign lands, when we come to see them. For though we do indeed meet new phenom- ena, yet all their accessories, agreeing with them, there is not the contrast that strikes usas we read of them in books, and join to the forms of our country. Thus, the costume shall vary widely from any- thing we have before seen, still the keeping is preserved by a correspondent variation in manners, climate, occupation, & c.. so that no contrast, no oddity is presented. You remember these are pictures of travel. In the Tyrol, I could only now and then stretch my head out of the carriage, and then I saw heaven-high mountains that looked gravely on me, and with their enormous heads and long cloud-beards nodded a happy journey to me. Here and there I observed a far-off little blue mountain, that seemed standing a tip-to.e ani peering curiously over the shoulders of the others, probably to see me. A maiden sat spinning in a balco- ny as he passed. She spun and smiled; the dove sat motionless above her head; and behind, above the house, rose high mountains, whose snow tops shoiie in the sun, that they looked like a solemn guard of giants, with bright helmets on their heads. ITALIAN MU5I~. The free use of speech is denied to the poor enslaved Italian. press the feelings of his hc only. His hatred of forc zeal for liberty, his madde impotence, his sadness at t~ of past glory, his secret ho; ing for, his panting after 1w ilisguised under those mel scend from wild tumultuo elegiac softness, and in thor that suddenly change from resses to threatening rage. esoteric sense of the opera exoteric guard (the Austria whose presence it is stir. never suspect the significa merry love stories, love-tria ations, beneath which the It his sternest thoughts on as Harmodius and Aristogei their daggers in a wreath of My dear Lemuel,it is more since I began this letter; have heen through Heine think much better of him. above selections do not di~ his grosser failings, yet the led and surpassed by ma whose wit, humor, good se. cate fancy are more fully ap a careful re-perusal. I told that I had lost something reading him; the review l. his debt. True, time like duce loses value with the th ninety. If you find any in the above, I will send yo mens of the work, or the Reading in Wielands Aristi; ing I came upon this pas- make my own. I see, toc have written thee a book ins ter. Wouldst thou but pun moderation with a greater. Yours trim 1847.] Was it well? VOL. VI.~O. IL WAS IT WELL? BY LOUIS L. NOBLE. Serene, imperial Eleanore TENNYSON. Was it well, Eleanore, In lookin alllike one to be That loves and listens silently? Oh, was it well, Eleanore, At the parting what was spoken ; Words that many a heart have broken? Oh, will their memory haunt no more Thine own forever, Eleanore? My youth with cares was overgrown: Some few but tearful memories hung Around a heart yet beating lone But lightly, as when I was young; Too young for aught but love and truth, And beauty in the face of youth. Well, those cares around me clinging And the lone heart lightly springing Then, Eleanore, I heard that thou Wast part of all I know thee now. Loveliness, with so much grief Blending, were above belief, Hadst thou not~been in spirit more, Gentlest, brightest Eleanore. This made thee, so they told me, less Virgin than angelholiness! And then there came a dreamy thought, Deep in the quiet heart it wrought, Till in all its streams again Gushd that youthful tender pain; And hope, once more on trembling wing, Sweetest visions hovering oer, Could dare the bridal wreath to fling On angel Eleanore ; Could dare to whisper she was mine, And bid my longing spirit pine And be alone no more. Eleanore, it were not well The tumult of my breast to tell, All, all, that pensive twilight through, The last upon my path to you. Ah! passion hath no bliss so deep As sank upon my peaceful soul No stillness hath a pilgrims sleep Like that which oer my spirit stole, When in thy presence first I moved, And drank thy look,that look beloved. 12

Louis L. Noble Noble, Louis L. Was It Well? 173-175

1847.] Was it well? VOL. VI.~O. IL WAS IT WELL? BY LOUIS L. NOBLE. Serene, imperial Eleanore TENNYSON. Was it well, Eleanore, In lookin alllike one to be That loves and listens silently? Oh, was it well, Eleanore, At the parting what was spoken ; Words that many a heart have broken? Oh, will their memory haunt no more Thine own forever, Eleanore? My youth with cares was overgrown: Some few but tearful memories hung Around a heart yet beating lone But lightly, as when I was young; Too young for aught but love and truth, And beauty in the face of youth. Well, those cares around me clinging And the lone heart lightly springing Then, Eleanore, I heard that thou Wast part of all I know thee now. Loveliness, with so much grief Blending, were above belief, Hadst thou not~been in spirit more, Gentlest, brightest Eleanore. This made thee, so they told me, less Virgin than angelholiness! And then there came a dreamy thought, Deep in the quiet heart it wrought, Till in all its streams again Gushd that youthful tender pain; And hope, once more on trembling wing, Sweetest visions hovering oer, Could dare the bridal wreath to fling On angel Eleanore ; Could dare to whisper she was mine, And bid my longing spirit pine And be alone no more. Eleanore, it were not well The tumult of my breast to tell, All, all, that pensive twilight through, The last upon my path to you. Ah! passion hath no bliss so deep As sank upon my peaceful soul No stillness hath a pilgrims sleep Like that which oer my spirit stole, When in thy presence first I moved, And drank thy look,that look beloved. 12 174 Was it well? Yea, drank thy look. Oh, Eleanore, Could its serene, its tender light Have faded from my gaze that night, Oh, had we met no more, Memories sweet had lingerd yet To mingle with one fond regret. But, ali! twas mine to linger round Thy footsteps light,to list the sound Of thy sweet voice ;twas mine to mark Thy brow so beautiful and dark While hearkening to a tale of wo, To catch the rapture and the glow Of thy deep eyes, so calm, so clear, When nature to thy heart was near; Twas mine,all this was mine,and more, To know, to feel, pure Eleanore, The goodness of the life you live, What is the ceaseless boon you give To all around, to Christ above, Duty with rosy smiles and love. Bear witness, Oh, ye sounding streams, Where sylvan Unadilla dreams, In her deep mountain-cradle, how We loved your wildness !vine and bough Arching our paths ;my jealous ear Following amid your murmurs near Her silvery speech ;and coming through The fragrant evenings purple hue To wake my soul with new surprise The pure soft splendor of her eyes. Was it well, Eleanore, In lookia alllike one to be That loves and listens silently? Oh, was it well, Eleanore, At the parting, what was spoken, Words that many a heart have broken? Oh, will their memory haunt no more Thine own forever, Eleanore? 1847.] Natalie. NATALIE. A LOVE-STORY. AT the close of the 1st Flor~al, Citi- zen Daubenton, surnamed the shepherd, concluded his celebrated discourse on the formation of wood. It was the last of the first course of public lectures delivered in France on natural history. ~In general, Citizen Daubenton spoke at the Botanical Garden, but on this occa- sion an immense concourse of students poureil forth from the Amphitheatre of LEcole de M6decine. A little knot, consisting of five or six young men, collected near one of the Corinthian columns, which sustain the gallery; they were so much absorbed in discussing the new opinion of Dau- benton, that they did not perceive the de- parture-of the crowd. I assure you, Monsieur Belle-Rose, and you, Messieurs Citizens, interrupted Belle-Rose. That I have been astonished by the ingenuity of our distinguished Professor; I however recollect, as a child, to have been taught, that the age of a tree cor- responds to the number of concentric layers of which its wood consists, and that the exterior layer, which is the hard- est, is formed by the cold of winter; as in the moral world, adversity and resist- ance, if they chill, do also confirm the soul. The last speaker was about twenty- five years of age; calm and dignified, he seemed to speak without emotion; re- clining against a column, his eye, black, brilliant, and piercing, comprehended in its rapid circuit the expression of each countenance in the circle. A bas with your morals, Merode, said a lively young Champagnese, pray, listen a minutethou must regret and unlearn the acquisition of youthques- tion not Daubentontake care of the sans- culottesthe fraternal society of the section love him, and yesterday granted him a certificate of civismNotwith- standing his illustrious career, it was ne- cessary to inform him that he was a wor- thy and good citizenand thou wouldst enlighten Paris, well, then, listen, Me- rode, thou shallt swing d la lanterns. M. de Merode smiled. And then, said Belle-Rc the argument, Citizen Merode a tree will form no layer dur tire year. Possibly. And at others a great an Granted, yet the doctrine. is supported by an equal stronger facts. You have sc~ greensthe tropical treec they conform to one rule in if their thickness is not same, we will suppose a p the organs on the thickest sid wanting on the other. Belle-Rose was annoyed I fident manner of Merode. Permit me to say, Mor he, in a more energetic tone, seem disposed to undervalu. ments which make against yc You think me uncandid No, Count. But yet too positive~- Yes, Count, that is the w Bon! that is very we both sincere, that is decide cannot both be correct, that ~ Well, then, I will tell you e I proposewe will have a you are amused, gentlemen, singular, but it shall be donc Monsieur Linguet, you wo an excellent piece of pleat you, Monsieur Rentier, en to? friend of my antagonist, that be fair :but here is Mon ards, he is neither aristocrat lotte, neither royalist, nor y. the French Republic, one a ble; our acquaintance with cent. He is an American. the friend of France; that which is yet new, a superb f investigation of vegetable ph this, then, is an advantage w certain, as it is natural, he d lect. Arthur Richards, was abo M. de Merode, with a fair, mine complexion; his figure and graceful, and his eyes blue sparkled with animatio dined the complimental offic

Natalie. A Love-Story 175-186

1847.] Natalie. NATALIE. A LOVE-STORY. AT the close of the 1st Flor~al, Citi- zen Daubenton, surnamed the shepherd, concluded his celebrated discourse on the formation of wood. It was the last of the first course of public lectures delivered in France on natural history. ~In general, Citizen Daubenton spoke at the Botanical Garden, but on this occa- sion an immense concourse of students poureil forth from the Amphitheatre of LEcole de M6decine. A little knot, consisting of five or six young men, collected near one of the Corinthian columns, which sustain the gallery; they were so much absorbed in discussing the new opinion of Dau- benton, that they did not perceive the de- parture-of the crowd. I assure you, Monsieur Belle-Rose, and you, Messieurs Citizens, interrupted Belle-Rose. That I have been astonished by the ingenuity of our distinguished Professor; I however recollect, as a child, to have been taught, that the age of a tree cor- responds to the number of concentric layers of which its wood consists, and that the exterior layer, which is the hard- est, is formed by the cold of winter; as in the moral world, adversity and resist- ance, if they chill, do also confirm the soul. The last speaker was about twenty- five years of age; calm and dignified, he seemed to speak without emotion; re- clining against a column, his eye, black, brilliant, and piercing, comprehended in its rapid circuit the expression of each countenance in the circle. A bas with your morals, Merode, said a lively young Champagnese, pray, listen a minutethou must regret and unlearn the acquisition of youthques- tion not Daubentontake care of the sans- culottesthe fraternal society of the section love him, and yesterday granted him a certificate of civismNotwith- standing his illustrious career, it was ne- cessary to inform him that he was a wor- thy and good citizenand thou wouldst enlighten Paris, well, then, listen, Me- rode, thou shallt swing d la lanterns. M. de Merode smiled. And then, said Belle-Rc the argument, Citizen Merode a tree will form no layer dur tire year. Possibly. And at others a great an Granted, yet the doctrine. is supported by an equal stronger facts. You have sc~ greensthe tropical treec they conform to one rule in if their thickness is not same, we will suppose a p the organs on the thickest sid wanting on the other. Belle-Rose was annoyed I fident manner of Merode. Permit me to say, Mor he, in a more energetic tone, seem disposed to undervalu. ments which make against yc You think me uncandid No, Count. But yet too positive~- Yes, Count, that is the w Bon! that is very we both sincere, that is decide cannot both be correct, that ~ Well, then, I will tell you e I proposewe will have a you are amused, gentlemen, singular, but it shall be donc Monsieur Linguet, you wo an excellent piece of pleat you, Monsieur Rentier, en to? friend of my antagonist, that be fair :but here is Mon ards, he is neither aristocrat lotte, neither royalist, nor y. the French Republic, one a ble; our acquaintance with cent. He is an American. the friend of France; that which is yet new, a superb f investigation of vegetable ph this, then, is an advantage w certain, as it is natural, he d lect. Arthur Richards, was abo M. de Merode, with a fair, mine complexion; his figure and graceful, and his eyes blue sparkled with animatio dined the complimental offic 176 Nat lie. eager young man, excited by this little difference, refused to hear his objections; even M. Belle-Rose urge(l him to pro- ceed, saying sarcastically, I request M. Richards to decide be- tween the illustrious Daubenton and the Count de Merode of Normandy. And between the unknown Linn~us and Monsieur Belle-Rose, of la rue St. Jacques, retorted the Count. Angry glances were exchangedthe short silence which ensued was termin- ated by the umpire, who said, modestly, I can give you an opinion, Messieurs, but it will not determine the point; on the one side we have Duhamel, Mirbel, and Gerardin, to say nothing of Dauben- ton, who contend against the doctrine of the annual production of a single layer; on the other, the distinguished Swede, with most of the English physiologists, go so far as to assert that you may as- certain the date of the coldest winter, by the remarkable hardness of tbe layer forme4 during it. I confess when Citi- zen Daubenton produced a section of the trunk of a palm tree, and showed that it displayed none of the external and con- centric circles, hut was merely a bundle of the foot stalks of leaves, I was forced to admit, at least,an exception to the rule; but prejudice is powerfulI am not yet convincedI shall observe with interest the progress of this inquiry. While Richards was speaking, Bell- Rose whispered something to M. Linguet, which caused him to break out into a loud fit of laughter. He then turned to Richards, and said, with an ironical bow, I ask a thousand pardons, Monseigneur, but indeed this sc~lerat Belle-Rose is very amusing ahl M. Richards, wbat an absurd fancy, to compare the Countas he leans there, with folded arms, against the pillar, with his high cheek bones, and his dusky complexion, so calm and so loftyto a Prince of the Pottawattamies, in your new republic. He had no sooner uttered this sarcasm than a frightful and piercing cry rang through the hall. Every one turned to Merode, from whom the sound proceed- ed, which indeed resembled, as much as any thing, the yell of those savages just named; but whatever emotion he had experienced, there was now only percep- tible in his eye that peculiar glitter and fixedness of gaze, which men are said to exhibit when they are determined ia some destructive purpose. M. Belle-Rose, he said, demands from you a prompt ified apology. But Belle-Rose, though a the section of sans-culottes, guard of the guillotine, was ard; moreover, he had a set De Merode, therefore he rep The wine is drawnit w uncorked the bottleI oug fuse to pledge you, M. de M The point was settled; th light enough for the affair. ed as the second of Belle-U was natural, Richards assistc Linguet, gay and active, j weaponsthe blades were Stand nearer the ent court, said Linguet. When they were in thei combatants took off their co their swords. Are you ready ? cried Scarcely had Belle-Rose self in a posture of defenc adversary, springing towar extraordinary rapidity, strur side and retreated with equ~ Belle-Rose, wounded a with difficulty waited his s Again the hall rang with De Merode. Defend yourself. The rules of fencing we~ ance. Strong and active, the Count resembled the sp~ it seemed impossible to p thrusts, and equally so to his swift and unexpected r- At the second attack, B pierced through the lung. de Merode hastened to ass; to staunch the blood whic fusely over the marble pay served that Rentier had dis first thought was, that hc seek a surgeon; the next, probably make known the pose his friend, as well as vengeance of the friends ot tagonist, more easily infl their party was at this tim- Paris. Come, my friend, sai let us leave this place-. event, especially, because you to regret the service dered me, for which, acec Adieu, M. LinguetI he will not prove fatal. As they descended into 1847.] Natalie. clock of N& re Dame struck six; the night came in dark and stormy, and few persons were visible. A coach was ea- sily procured, and within an hour they had passed the Arch of St. Denis, and left behind them the grand old Abbey, that grim remnant of the age of Dagobert. We are e route for Normandy, M. Arthur, the province of tombs, cathe- drals, and beautiful prospects; my grand- mother, the Baroness Romencuil, resides at her chateau, near Rouen; you will see in her a matron of primitive times; she will love you because you are my friend, and you. will respect her be- cause I cannot help it? Exactly. Besides, to her an American is al- ways welcome. In her youth she was a great travellerindeed, I think she has been in your country. In Americagood heavens! what cause If that poor Belle-Rose should die, said De Merode, with a sigh, and taking no notice of his companions exclamation. Ah! repentance ever comes too late; but his insolence, mon cher ArthurI will call you monsieur no longerwas insufferable; it was not the first offence. We were rivalsthe greater then the necessity of adhering to the rules of de- corum: he knew my heartits sensibili- ties; he knew that his allusion would sink into its deepest recesses; he intend- ed that the sting should probe its dearest emotions. Seeing his malevolence, I lost my self-control. You must not think me a savage, A~rthur. I confess I was astonished at the vio- lence of your anger; but what would be natural and allowable jesting as to Lin- guet, from Belle-Rose, in his relative po- sition to you, was an insult which a Frenchman could not overlook. But, Count, 1 plead guilty to the imputed fail- ing of my countrymen, and am curious to know The Count busied himself in arrang- ing the cushions, as if preparing to sleep. To know, continued Arthur, whether the allusion of Belle-Rose had any connection with the visit of the Baroness to America. De Merode, engaged in giving some directions to the coachman, of course could not hear this inquiry. Queue b~tise I he exclaimed, the rascal of a cocker has not followed the ss-roads, as I instructed him. We must take care that we do not tocsin sound, before morning, For thh present, my friend, let as well as this ugly jolting will Thus they continued their fligh the sun rose, a lovely scene app~ neath them. They saw from th~ of a precipitous hill, the Seine like a silver serpent through sin flowery meadows, and far beyc perceived the irregular outline o tains, the southern boundary of tiful valley: the moss-covered priories and churches; the turf battlements of ancient chateaux tIes, rose stern and solemn thrc gray mists of morning. Descen mountain slowly, their gaze upon scenery so unusually pici and enchanting, and they were to find themselves entering a pi lage, nearly hidden from sight h~ rupt turn of the road, sleepin~ seemed, in the bosom of the gle foot of the hill. The carriage, rolling rapidly the silent street, traversed a grc through groves of elm and misl& emerged into a table land, witho or inclosure; scattered along ti gardens and cottages began to and the travellers amused the with the singular costume of t~ sants of Normandy, who love themselves in all the colors of e bow. Towards evening, they crc stream, which, rising in the mour considerable distance, poured if~ lied tribute into the bosom of thc for about a quarter of a mile f embouchure, it expanded into basin, then gradually contracted, trees seemed to meet and interla. bank to bank, across the stream. I do not intend, said De ~ to guide this coachman to the c which I perceive is not far dist~ knowledge might be worth some him in Paris: a little beyond this the roa(l branches off to Rouen, he believes you are destined, can remain here for an hour, I turn, and conduct you myself to tIe. En attendant, I shall find ii est hamlet by a circuitous ron dismiss the carriage. Arthur expressed his approba the plan and left the coach, whicl ever, he followed on foot, till he - of sight. Then he threw himse~ 178 Natalie. upon the velvet bank of the stream, where the flowering hawthorn s~reened him from the rays of the sun, and review- ed the last days disagreeable occur- rences. After all, he thought, this is a serious businessI did not come to France to participate in affairs of honor, and yet De Merode had no friend. By heavens! what a noble character is this CountLinguet would not do for his secondthe repetition of the sneer was half an insultRentier of course was pre-engagedthey would have fought at any rate. I did but littleI could not refuse himhut to kill him in LEcole de Mddecine, a sans-culotte too they will never forgive himand I when shall I return to Paris? But I am not sorry to get away; it was useless to think of study in such confusion and clamor; moreover, I shall see life in the provinces. But how will the Baroness like this rumpled blouse? I will send to Paris for my haggageAb! this is a glorious prospectyonder islands in the Seineeven at this distance, I can dis- tkguish the violets and the lilies, with which they are enameledhow calm and serene the skynot a sound ! Just then, a noise, like the fall of an oar, fell light- ly upon his ear. Turning his head, silently, he beheld a young girl, standing in a birchen ca- noe: she held a light paddle, which she changed from hand to hand, as she gracefully dipped it in the water) alter- nately, on each side of the fragile hark: the ripples hroke, sparkling about the slender prow, which, elevated ahove the surface, at every new impulse seemed about to leap from the water. Arthur was hidden from view by the hawthorn, so that undetected he could observe her figure and movements ; and as the boat approached, inclining in its course, as he was delighted to see, to the bank on which he was lying, her face and dress could be more distinctly per- ceiv ed. She was tall and well-shaped; there was a firmness of posture, a combina- tion of freedom and grace in her motions, unusual even with French ladies,especial- ly in a position so unusual and precari- ous; her features were regular, and their expression thoughtful, but agreeable; her eyes were black and penetrating; her fine hair, flowed unrestrained, in dark waving tresses, over her neck and shoul- ders; her eye-brows were slightly arch- ed; it might be thought tha bones were too high for clase but this did not detract from dignity, which pervaded a! and gestures. Her comple union of pale olive and rose, with vigorous exercise; hei closely to her figure, though impede the free action of th. a pretty cottage bonnet 1a But the canoe, like the cc love, did not run smooth; from any fault of the lady, I the irrepressible instinct of land dog, who sat motion prow, holding between his I attached to it. He was la and remarkable for his fin~ hair. The deep bay of houn noise of horns and bugles, the hills; the dog, leaping fore feet on the edge of the act of listening; the young the danger, and resting wi weight on the opposite sid to maintain the equipoise that it was in vain, she spin the bank, and scarcely lm touched the earth, when A ed from the hedge to her a! The apparition of a youn retired spot startled her; b ped, and she would have f not offered his hand, whic~ and with his assistance wri; landed. She stood still for an inst ed fixedly upon him; then perfect calmness, I thar sieur, for your kindness; 1 dog was better trainedI c the canoe to the shore, and forgive his awkwardness a second trial. By this ti alarmed at the Chateau M. prolonged absence. I am going myself to replied Arthur. She appeared surprised. To meet the Count de accompanied me from Pan My brother returned claimed. Ah! then, Mc you cannot know these forest as well as the strei will guide you myself to but first,the boat must he fa: Brant, 1 release you from and now this is the pai They walked for some 1847.] Natalie. which Arthur, feeling to be awkward, determined to break. Do the ladies of France often trust themselves to tenements so frail, Made- moiselle ? I am not a lady ofParis, she re- plied quickly; and I thank Heaven I am not. I should die, were I confined to its crowded saloons and narrow streets. I love the free air of the mountainsthe little hark you think so dangerous, has heen my companion from childhood; it was the work and the gift of the good Father Antoine, and frail as it seems, often and safely has it borne him against tide and billow. I am not surprised at your 9 inquiry, Monsieur: such barbarous struc- tures are seldom seen so near Paris, and would, very likely, excite the ridicule of gentlemen of fashion like yourself. You are mistaken, Mademoiselle; I am simply Arthur Richards, an Ameri- can student of medicine at Paris. I was fortunate enough to render your brother a slight service; doubly fortunate, since it introduces me to his sister. I will be equally frank, Monsieur Richards; My name is Natalie de Me- rode, the grand-daughter of the Baroness Romencuil, who will be delighted to welcome you, when she learns that you aided my brother as well as myself. But, said she, pointing to a conical shaped hill at a little distance, there is the Montagne des deuse Amans; we shall soon see the towers and bastions of the old chateau, which you must know was formerly a Gothic castle. I will tell you the story of the two lovers mountr~in. It was so steep and high that people used to think it was impossible to reach its summit. A young shepherd loved a shepherdess, and his affection was recip- rocated; hut her parents, who thought he was too poor, to prevent the marriage and at once get rid of his attention, pro- mised him her hand, if he would carry her on his shoulders, to the top of this mountain. He made the attempthe succeeded, but at the last step he fell, and died instantly. She, beholding him dead, threw herself into the river which Ilows at the base of the rock, and was drowned. There is a convent erected on the spot where he threw down his burden, and masses are said there to this day, for the repose of the souls of the two lovers. There is no song I love to sing more, than his Lament, for, like him, it is my doom to climb that mountain, and, casting off the burden of my sins, close my eyes upon the world, and those walls. Good God! said Arthur, this abrupt announcement. young, so kind, so lovelywh~ But she interrupted him. I said more than I intended, ards. Yet I never look upon th without the strong conviction will be my tomb; and then must hasten to say farewell to I shall leave behind; and so it even to you, a stranger, I said it was early twilight when V ed the immense court-yard of teau. Count de Merode was cony fore the vestibule with a pric. dress of a Carmelite: the monk tall and erect; his features, stern, appeared more so fro across the forehead. Merode was about to mou two horses which stood near h and bridled: he started with when he saw his sister and c approaching. Running to he braced her affectionately; th~ Arthur by the hand, he led h priest, whom he introduced Antoine: the whole party then him through the entrance-ha had no ceiling, the heavy timli uncovered and decorated witV ings and sculptures, and enter nificent saloon through an ope columns. In the recess formed by a window, nearly opposite the en a carved and gilded arm-chai~ Baroness Romencuil. Notwit she was an octogenarian, she s~ ly erect, and when she raised from her work, as the party they rested upon them with a searching gaze, until they ha the apartment. Some parts of her dress, w (lark, were in the style of Lc Her hair was worn very high, were two patches, one in the each cheek : her shoes were embroidered velvet, with very h~ her face was thin, and its exprc. and severe. When Arthur had been in she requested him to sit on a vei ioned seat near her, while Natn the tabouret at her feet. She welcomed him in a low a bus voice to the chateau, and 180 Natalie. him for the service he had rendered her grandson, of which she had just heard; she said she was a friend to all Ameri- cans, and she hoped he would find the place agreeable enough to protract his stay till the awful scenes of bloodshed, which were now transpiring at Paris, should give place to peace and loyalty. After some minutes conversation, dur- ing which his attention was continually distracted by the beautiful countenance of Natalie, Arthur followed the Count from the saloon to a sleeping apartment. Here everything was rich and splendid; graceful mouldings supported a ceiling covered with brilliant arabesques; and elegant mirrors, concealing the walls, multiplied the costly furniture of the room. You will find here a part of my wardrobe, Arthur, said De Merode, and, as we are nearly of the same di- mensions, I think it will suit you. I took you away early, for you are fatigued with the long ride; but I have news the dogs are on the trailthe Carmelite says an emissary of the cartaille was prowling about the chkteau before our arrival. I regret, therefore, that I must leave you in charge of Father Antoine for a few daysthey will not annoy you; still it were well to keep close; but Natalie will show you the library and the cabinet. Poor Natalie! she will need them herself no longer, when she becomes the bride of Heaven. But why must that be? Arthur ventured, to say. The honor of her family, the wishes of her friends, ay, and her own choice, have determined it. There is a secret, and one day you shall know it, why Na- talie is consecrated to the service of Heaven; good night, mom cher, we shall meet again so on. So saying, the Count Merode left theapartment. The honor of her family, thought Arthur, as he sought the luxurious couch ~-has there never been an abbess in the noble house of Romeneuil? or is it pride which disdains the alliance of one so lovely with the degraded nobility of the Republic? the wishes of her friends, ah! they are jealous of her influencethere may be property at stakean ancient will perhapsbut did he not say, her own choice? No, by heavens! it there he truth in woman, it is not her own choiceyet how does it concern me ? I will think no more of it. And with that complete control over the and the nervous system, whi able to exert, Arthur was so slumber. When he awoke, and he found the family at ti table: seated at the side of N presided at the meal, he 0 tender attention to the wishe~ erable parent; he admired ease of her conversation; h demeanor. He began to feel resolutions of indifference to away in the light of her prey. The truth is, that Natalie of matchless grace; full of she yet had that indescribabl mode of expression, which i termed naivete, and which nate an odd frankness, an u egotistic simplicity. Seldom does the love of tv man elevate itself to revere not reverence that prevented - looking often at Natalie bo that Father Antoine would r miration of her in his counter Eustace left us last night Richards, said the Baroness, stated that it was in consec quarrel; will you enlighten details ? Willingly, replied he, will see fresh cause for admi proud spirit. He then descrihed the c Belle-Rose, and observed w pleasure, that the eye of Na sparkled with indignation at softened to a look of gratil slightly alluded to his own transaction. Come, Monsieur, said from the table and lending thc library, here are books, thy pursue your scientific researc as at Paris, and musical ins charm away the weariness hooks may produce, and w rials to inform your friends of - tures; d jjropos of them, ther- portunity, Pare Antoine says, to-day to America, by way . by a secure conveyance, and vise you not to neglect, if y wish your letters published ir teur among the proceedings c vention. When they are wri show you the wonders of ti and among the rest, in honor noe, I will show you a colle~ 1847.] Natalie. bark of trees, which I have made, on which are traced various French and English verses. In the course of an hour Natalie re- turned, and conducted him to a cabinet of natural history, the walls of which were covered with landscapes in fresco, and whose shelves were filled with leaves and flowers, minerals and madrepores, arranged in scientific order; she showed him a beautiful collection of medals and paintings in oil and water colors mixed with gum. She opened an elegant her- bal,the records of which were made in a neat and beautiful hand, which she did not say, but Arthur knew was her own. Here said she, opening the door of a small interior apartment, is a turning- lathe, and here I make baskets, artificial flowers and plans in relievoa boat like that in which you first saw me, would be easily constructed here by an expe- rienced hand. Natalie had found something newa companion of her own age, whose taste was equal to her own; who never lost a word she uttered, and whose hand was always - ready to mingle her colors, or tune her harpsichord. It is not so tedious to (lecipher a diffi- cult sonata in the morning, when one expects to perform it in the evening to a judicious listener, who will dwell with eagerness on every, note, and appreciate the labor of the acquisition. When a week had disappeared, the ambition of a scholar had flown with it; the worst news to Arthur would have been that peace was restored to Pfiris, and that it would he safe to return thither. He could no longer conceal from himself his satisfaction at the Counts duel, and dreaded nothing more, than his return. At the end then of this week, Arthur Richards was in lovehow could he help it? As for Natalie, young ladies do not re- flect much upon the nature of their own emotions; if Arthur admitted to himself that his love might have been at first a whim, his judgment afterwards deter- mined it to he at any rate, the effort of a well regulated fancy but Natalie thought nothing on the subjectshe had no cause for alarmthe chateau was lonelyshe loved to have him near her she was pleased with his conversation, his sentiments, his character: she thought him graceful and handsome, but for her- self, she was not subject to sudden emo tions, and most of all, she alv bered that she was soon vows. It is evident that many amusements were quite ma they have not all been enume was a small room, opposite 1 hall, appropriated to the fencing, which was mud among the French ladies of Here Arthur and Natalie, oft the delightful accomplishmen after supper, having actively this exercise, Natalie, in an c costume, was looking from window upon the terraced g or five feet beneath; Arthur her, gazing with undisguised on her animated countenance. These flowers, said she, beautiful than those pale e sombre galleries of the Luxe Yes, Mademoiselle, like I l)risoned queen, those exotic~ and sun, and space; they see they did to one of your coun call in vain for the song of th limpid murmur of the brook; ing and the evening dew; ti sun; the soft light of the mo fruitful dust of these beautit night, which flutter in the hea the butterfly has abandoned the gilded butterfly has fo lilythe bee has left the fib nista. Beautiful thoughts ! They were born to a brief. continued he, in a low tone; who thus lamented their de probably overlook the outrag umphal ode upon the distant c brought to our doors; but wh give the cruelty that would youth and loveliness to a livin Natalie started at his it manner; she gazed earnestly face; and whatever she sa~ blush suffused her countenance moment Father Antoine pasz the window. Hearing the voices he looked up, and obs attitude of the speakers, and I rassed air of Natalie, appeared ed, but he walked rapidly on; ever, before Arthur had perc. his features, usually grave, no stern and even threatening. Natalie too, had caught thei sion, for she immediately said, go, Father Antoine expects me 182 Natalie. Not yet, oh, not yet, Mademoiselle. The sun has nearly set. At this hour I should meet him at the confes- sional. For what have you to seek forgive- ness Much, very much, Monsieur Rich- ards; and this delay is not the least. I may be wrong; I may be bold, but there is a mystery which I would faia have solved before we part. Natalie did not answer. Why must you take the vows ? Can there he a nobler employment than the service of Heaven, Monsieur; to place the soul in that posture which will hest become it in another world ? And at the same time forget the claims of this ? There are no such claims. Surely to sustain the declining years of a parent; to restrain a brothers fiery temper, are duties in your way. It is their own wish Say, rather, their command. Oh, Mademoiselle ! said he, taking her hand, explain to me this cruel mystery. The door opened, and Count de Me- rode entered the apartment. His dress was soiled and disordered; he had evi- dently been riding hard; and, as he ad- vanced, he said, in a jesting yet discon- tented tone, I will solve it myself, Arthur; my father, to atone for a crime against his God and his country, consecrated her, while yet a child, to religion; and re- ceived from his mother a pledge that she should take the veil in the Convent of Sainte Th~r~se, in Normandy. So, you see, honor as well as choice forbid any other course. I was absent long; but am not too late to prevent misunderstand- ing. I thought I had before informed you of her engagement. Forgive me, Count,one question answered, and I shall return to Paris. Return! by no meansthat would be folly, my friend. Is Mademoiselle de Merodes con- sent free and uncompelled ? Ask her, Monsieur. He turned to Natalie. Mademoiselle ! he said. There was a brief silence, and in a low voice she answered, Yes. Then, as she spoke that little word, it was suddenly revealed to Arthur, how much he loved her. A light shone into the depths of his heart, and discovered the image of Natalie. it was ble for him that night to go loon: he required solitude and These emotions were new to i they excited merely to be s to exercise his self-control? X all the world, to be shut ou heaven of love just as he ha. glimpse of its blessedness? He retired to his room, n out upon the magnificent fores lime mountain scenery, and al ty of the lovely prospect, so solemnized by the moonlight, to forget, in the contemplal much grandeur, the sudde sharpness of his disappointmc She is most beautiful, but she must be forgotten. get her? Will not the phant dream, from which I have awakened, chase me throug mingling with its stern realiti my hopes, and point their m gers to the bitter past? And I thoughtwho isso free, her nature, how can her hea mission, beating against the prison ? When midnight struck h. there; as deeper darkness dc him, his thoughts, which had to the scenes and affections lifeto home, to the home w it for a distant landran events which had transpired peaceful studies and the bloo tionand then they dwelt c the dream of the last week. If angels, good and bad, everywhere, as some assert, to observe and record; or do fuse into the soul of the v~ defeated struggler with his portion of their own serenity ty? And the spirit thus 1 seems to breathe a holier and to look, where the faith i~ a divine encouragement. When then the solemn ton. gan broke upon the stillness Arthur Richards felt them sc unison with his own fee1in~ scarcely reflected upon the the hour; and not until the clear tones of a female voic his ear, did he step out ni~ race to discover whence the ceeded. The oratory stood at a from his apartment, adjoinin~ 1847.] Natalie. ed gateway: descending the sloping ter- race, he traversed the garden, and guided by the dim light which gleamed through the clusters0f narrow, pointed windows, he entered the chapel. The voice then distinctly heard could not be mistaken. It was NatalieArthur could distinguish the outline of her figure through the drawn curtain, as she sat at the organ, which she accompanied with her voice, in a devotional air. Retreating into a cloister he gazed intently upon her, until taking the light she began to descend the stair-case. Then he passed noiselessly through the aisle, and waiting until she stood in the vestibule, presented himself before her. When she saw him, she nearly let the light fall from her hands; she was very pale, and trembled exceedingly. Forgive me, Natalie, said Arthur, for this surpriseI would not cause you a moments anxiety. I must not stay, faltered Natalie, the hourthe place One momentone short moment, to tell you that I have struggled in vain to repress my passionto tell you that I love you deeply, fondly, devotedly. I could not leave this place forever with- out telling you this, and learning from your own lips my fate. This is uselessworse than use- less. Nonocould I believe that were this fatal obstacle removed you would rejoicethen you w?uld still be mine in spiritin memoryin heaven. There is no hope. Without hope, love dies, but mine can never die. I must then hope speak, Natalie, and say that when I have left you, you will at least pity my unhappiness. Give me some token that you do not despise my affection. Suddenly Natalies countenance before agitated and alarmed, became pensive and thoughtful. Unclasping from her neck, a chain of hair to which was suspended a small locket of gold, with an agate in compo- sition set in its centre, she gave it to Arthur, saying at the same time, I can stay no longer, but take this, and not until you have left the cha- teau, open it, and read its contents you will then divine why I, who am al- ready dedicated to Heaven, cannot return your affection. And with these words she left the chapel. The night passed away, and the morn- ing came, the morning of h bright, clear, and full of s and odors. It was nothin~ He had no sympathy with Nature. It was his first sev disappointment, and he four endure. When he met th breakfast, it did not allay of his heart to find Natalie c cheerful. The Carmelite w morose, while the Counts ed to increase, as his friend and more silent, until he sc- in the conversation. Tl alone was unusually attenti and when he rose to leave ti turned to her grandson wit sive look, lie immediatel thurs arm, and half-dragged hall, and when the door w said, The Convent of Sainte burned to the ground last churches of France are di~ closed by order of the Coy cannon are cast from 1 bells. Then Natalies engage Cannot befulfllledJ k mon arni, and I should love a brother; therefore I regi still exists an obstacle to ye You mean that she de the Baroness I mean nothing of the to the saloon in an hour, m understand the difficulties tion. The hour elapsed, and tered the spacious parlor, 1 high with contending emot: roness sat in the same posil as on the night of his intro talie too, as before, was at L Count reclined upon a larg- P6re Antoine was half-W ample curtains of the Goth It will be painful to Richards, said the Baronest to the seat by her side, bitter memory of the past has occurred during your house, to make it proper your confidence some parh history. In 1757, myhusband,E euil, a colonel in the army was sent to harass the Si Iroquois in the province c in America. He took with son, Maurice de Merode. 184 Natalie. upon a trading-post established by the British at Tche-o-ron-tok Bay, in the western part of the province, he was killed, an(l his son was captured by the Senecas whose villages lay principally in this quarter. With him also was taken Father Antoine Leclerc, a priest of the order of the Carmelites. Of the death of my husband I was immediately apprised, but the fate of my son was en- veloped in profound and painful mys- tery. Twenty-five years after his disappear- ance, years of indescribable anguish, M. Richards, Father Antoine, so changed in appearance that he was with difficulty recognized, appeared at this chateau, where I was then residing. Imagine my joy at the news that my son still lived, and how that joy was changed to horror to hear that he was a traitor to his coun- try and his religion. Having won the respect and admiration of the savages by his fortitude and cour- age, they spared his life, but prevented his escape, until when two or three years had clapsed, he had become gradu- ally attach-ed to their mode of life, and was elected a chief amohg them. He married an Indian girl and became the father of a son and a daughter. Not ma- ny years after Father Antoine, who for his sake and for the conversion of those heathen, had remained with him, exe- cuted a scheme which he had devised to rescue the poor children from their hor- rible situation. He eluded the vigilance of the savages, and bore to me informa- tion which I have just detailed to you. In vain was every effort, which powerful iufluence at home, at the British Court, and with the authorities of New York, could command, exerted to induce my son to surrender to my control his unfor- tunate children. The savage life he led had hardened a heart once full of generous emotions. He was deaf to every appealbut I could not restI seemed to hear contin- ually, from the depths of the dark for- ests, the cry of those innocents. I purchased and fitted out a ship, and in company with the Carmelite crossed the ocean. The war had long been terminated; had it still raged, I should have dared its dangers, for I considered my attempt ap- proved of Heaven. On a clearand cloudless night, leaving the vessel at anchor, I passed with Fa- ther Antoine, in a small boat, through an [ opening in the back at the mou Bay of Tche-o-ron-tok, which way between the eastern and limits of Lake Ontario on its shore, and opposite to its wid The beach which separated the the lake, was low, and nearly with water. Having rowed about half the the bay, Father Antoine landed row cove on the eastern bank, left me, saying that his absenc be brief. While he was gone, I surv. scenery of that beautiful bay, w tions too deep for description. one of those lofty ridges, my proudly planted the lilies of Fr this deep ravine he was murderc too, my son, erring, yet my so his habitation, and linked his with a race of savages. And these reedy channels, how oft. his children paddled their ligh~ and plucked the lilies and thc plants floating on the waves, or the precipitous banks over wi azalia cast his scarlet mantle, with the intricate vine-work of 1 ing arbutus. I heard voices ab. and could see lights gleaming the dark pines which crowned I mits of those strange, pyramidal In a few moments Father Ani turned, and with him came Maurice de Merode. Great Go. changed. It was not his barbar tume not his half-naked limbs, large painted flowers and symbol covered them; but it was the st feeling gaze and air with which me. He stood, calm and unmov a muscle of his face relaxedth; my soulthe pledge of my ea fectionsthe object of my ho~ prayerslost, yet foundhe stc the grave of his brave and noblc looking upon the mother who h so far to behold him, yet scarc~ comed her, and coldly received sionate embrace. I shall not protract this hish Richards. That my heart did no was perhaps owing to the hope c ing the helpless children from th~ parent. Surely Heaven, which long withdrawn its smiles from Ln inspired me, when on my knee; plored him, with sobs and tears, them back to me. There was one among the st 1847.] .N~aalie. that obdurate heart, which yet vibrated to the touch. His early nurture was not all forgotten. Poorly as he comprehend- ed her blessed offices, he still feared the wrath of the Holy Church. Strange that it should be so. The Carmelite, who, while his companion had striven to keep alive this sentiment, now appealed to it with astonishing power. I thank God that the dread of eternal damnation was more effectual than pity for the sorrows of his mother. He brought to us the children, dressed in their Indian robes. He received from me a promise, that, at the age of twenty, his daughter should take the veil, and a year afterwards, pronounce her vows in the Convent of St. Th~r~se, in Norman- dy. Perhaps he thought to conciliate an offended Deity, by offering to it the pure soul of his child, on the spot where his own ruined and fallen spirit experienced the sweet influences of reli,, ion. To himself I made a vain and last appeal. He er~braced his children, and replied in the idiom of the savages, that as the waves of Tche-o-ron-tok, gasp and ex- pire, so would he breathe and die upon its shores. When memory reverts to that dreadful scene, it ever presents to my view the form of my unfortunate son, erect upon that lonely rock, intently watching our receding bark. I saw it till we merged upon the blue waters of the lake, when I could no longer distinguish it from the shadows of the night. We returned to France, and at the ex- piration of a few years, I heard that my son, with the remnant of his tribe, had sought new hunting grounds beyond the Mississippi. Who his children are, Monsieur Rich- ards, you have doubtless already divined; but why I have thus detailed to you their origin, is yet to be explained. You can easily imagine that every ex- ertion was made to obliterate the traces of their savage education. All, but the love of truth, the fortitude and self-re- spect, which, indeed, were now habit- ual. While Natalie learned in the solitudes of Merode the duties appropriate to her destiny, Eustace sought in Paris an ac quaintance with the world was to act. He returned one day to accompanied by a friend, w tion of Natalie soon ripenc He was frank and generous ture was noble. But the f was sacred in the eye of W those who had given it. How strange; then, that fection had been confessed pointment had nearly driven castle, the blasphemers of C should destroy the Convent could claim the object of his And yet the house of proudtoo proud of Natali her hand upon one who wa her originin after years, judices, those of his family ~ trymen But Arthur suddenly thr the feet at the Baroness, an lips to her hand; then, as exclaimed Give her to me, Madait my pride that she sprung fr kings of my country. You Americans; they believe Si pure which flows through a But this suspensetell me Natalie Monsieur Richards, melite, coming forward, I to examine the locket whk selle de Merode bestowed u night, when she supposed U ther Antoine was comfortab his couch. He opened it, and saw c slip of paper which it con~ words: Place the locket before you will see, as she was that Natalie, who loves y meet yoi~ in heaven, who~ soon must be. When the heat reached there appeared the miniatur~ girl, about ten years of age. The dress was that of ihe Senecas, but the face was th~ Arthur turned, and claspc bosom. Natalie had not composure enough to forbea 1SG The Life and Opinions LIFE AND OPINIONS OF PHILIP YOTiICK, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. CHAPTER XXVI. ALL things, except those which are in- effahie and invisihle, tend to an end or conclusion, which is most part painful; especially love. At this moment, remem- bering Chloris and her graces, which were her words and acts, our hero is not conscious of any ahatement of his pas- sion ; the image of Chloris is still the impersonation of perfect love. Knowing that it is an image, however, and cannot be made incarnate, he gathers from it only a dreamy and somewhat mixed en~ joyment. It was on the evening of a Sunday, dating a month from their first interview, when a singular accident befel our two friends. Wandering together hy an un- frequented path, they missed their way on the return, and with the decline of day lost all traces of their road. They waited until the moon rose, and then following the channel of a slender waterfall, endeavored to gain the sum- mit of a ridge, for in the valleys of all this region a dense growth of trees oh- structs the passage of any hut the hunter or the woodman, inured to adventure. They ascended slowly, nor did our hero unwillingly aid his terrified com- panion in the difficult steps. Often, in spite of modesty, she was compelled to trust her person to his arms; the terror of solitude and darkness suhdued all other fears. Along the summit of the ridge, the flat rocks made a natural cause- way leading directly to the village. To gain this advantage, it was therefore ne- cessary to make every exertion. The mountains in that vicinity have a figure and arrangement almost unknown in other regions. They might be well compared with waves, or hetter, with the ridges of a newly ploughed field, stretch- ing north and south. They rise higher and higher towards the west, but the moonlight, making the remote seem near, raised them in appearance, like a gray wall, continuous with a hank of silvery clouds, that rested in the extreme west. The nearer valleys, like furrows, shown by their black sides hidden from the moon, that touched only the lined their battlemental ridg whole landscape, stretchingfa the sea, black and streaked w lay wavy and luminous. Thei mists reached out their gauzy the valleys, marking the lines ter courses. On these vails. played faintly. They gathere melted, formed again and shot and there, tracing the warm bre hollows. At the high angles of the mountains, columns pact vapor stood up, like a smoke; these rolled in upon t~ assumed monstrous figures, vanished. Notwithstanding the disco awkwardness of their situ friends were too young and not to feel the beauty of the a pecially the soul of Chloris, fo and sorrow, was moved by it. ings shaped the appearances c into symbols of fear and of pa~ At length, overcome with and emotion, they sank togeti bank of moss, under the sou of a gloomy hemlock, and the the morning. Chloris, wh limbs with difficulty endured leaned her head upon the ho: friend, and was soon asleep. were full of terrors. She se wandering with her lover they lose themselves in the in the wood. Night comes on hear ~he howlings of wolves. leaves her in the shelter of goes out in search of food. through the forest through night and the day following, empty handed. not er and passes, and still he returns, a that death is inevitable, for no food. The wolves lool cavern, and he is 1inahle to away; they howl and cry, sometimes to laugh. She sh a cold sweat stands upon her: ing Chloris tremble in his a

Philip Yorick Yorick, Philip Life and Opinions of Philip Yorick, Esq. 186-196

1SG The Life and Opinions LIFE AND OPINIONS OF PHILIP YOTiICK, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. CHAPTER XXVI. ALL things, except those which are in- effahie and invisihle, tend to an end or conclusion, which is most part painful; especially love. At this moment, remem- bering Chloris and her graces, which were her words and acts, our hero is not conscious of any ahatement of his pas- sion ; the image of Chloris is still the impersonation of perfect love. Knowing that it is an image, however, and cannot be made incarnate, he gathers from it only a dreamy and somewhat mixed en~ joyment. It was on the evening of a Sunday, dating a month from their first interview, when a singular accident befel our two friends. Wandering together hy an un- frequented path, they missed their way on the return, and with the decline of day lost all traces of their road. They waited until the moon rose, and then following the channel of a slender waterfall, endeavored to gain the sum- mit of a ridge, for in the valleys of all this region a dense growth of trees oh- structs the passage of any hut the hunter or the woodman, inured to adventure. They ascended slowly, nor did our hero unwillingly aid his terrified com- panion in the difficult steps. Often, in spite of modesty, she was compelled to trust her person to his arms; the terror of solitude and darkness suhdued all other fears. Along the summit of the ridge, the flat rocks made a natural cause- way leading directly to the village. To gain this advantage, it was therefore ne- cessary to make every exertion. The mountains in that vicinity have a figure and arrangement almost unknown in other regions. They might be well compared with waves, or hetter, with the ridges of a newly ploughed field, stretch- ing north and south. They rise higher and higher towards the west, but the moonlight, making the remote seem near, raised them in appearance, like a gray wall, continuous with a hank of silvery clouds, that rested in the extreme west. The nearer valleys, like furrows, shown by their black sides hidden from the moon, that touched only the lined their battlemental ridg whole landscape, stretchingfa the sea, black and streaked w lay wavy and luminous. Thei mists reached out their gauzy the valleys, marking the lines ter courses. On these vails. played faintly. They gathere melted, formed again and shot and there, tracing the warm bre hollows. At the high angles of the mountains, columns pact vapor stood up, like a smoke; these rolled in upon t~ assumed monstrous figures, vanished. Notwithstanding the disco awkwardness of their situ friends were too young and not to feel the beauty of the a pecially the soul of Chloris, fo and sorrow, was moved by it. ings shaped the appearances c into symbols of fear and of pa~ At length, overcome with and emotion, they sank togeti bank of moss, under the sou of a gloomy hemlock, and the the morning. Chloris, wh limbs with difficulty endured leaned her head upon the ho: friend, and was soon asleep. were full of terrors. She se wandering with her lover they lose themselves in the in the wood. Night comes on hear ~he howlings of wolves. leaves her in the shelter of goes out in search of food. through the forest through night and the day following, empty handed. not er and passes, and still he returns, a that death is inevitable, for no food. The wolves lool cavern, and he is 1inahle to away; they howl and cry, sometimes to laugh. She sh a cold sweat stands upon her: ing Chloris tremble in his a 1847.] Of Philip Yorick, Esq. awoke her, and they pursued their way in silence. Meanwhile the morning came up over the sea, where the round world slopes downward. It slid and stepped softly forth. The clouds saw it first. It came gently over the world, ten- derand full of hope. * * * * * Nature fondles and indulges her foster children; she teaches them the loves and the passions. She is passionate herself, and excessively variahle; now loving, now hating; now tender and generous, now selfish and fiendish; she is by turns xvise and foolish, like a fond, foolish nurse. Meanwhile Reason, the father, looks on; he is willing to see his chil- dren taught all things by experience. lie will not interfere with Dame Nature, until such time as they have felt twice or thrice the circle of her humors, and find nothing excellent in them. Then he steps in, and, with the authority of a fa- ther, checks their idle plays, and imposes laws. Reason was more kind than is usual to Master Yorick, and for every kiss which he gave to the cheek of his Chlo- ris, reminded him that kisses are seals whereby the soul makes over her per- sonal libertythat love, though a genial warmth upon the hearth, is a blazing devil in the paththat for him and for Chloris there was no course but shame and death, or instant separation. Of marriage he had had no hope; for in every mention of the toatter to he~~ pa- rents, questions arose of his ability and condition. They wished their daughter well married, or not married at all: a very reasonable desire, notwithstanding the loud complaints of mother Nature; indeed, these respectable parents had but little regard for the suggestions of the universal mother, and suspected her of being no better than she should beper- haps worse. They suffered their daugh- tergood, un thinking people that they wereto be often alone with our friend, until the accident of this nights adven- ture. But now it was too late. The daughters reputation was gone in any case, and Master Yorick bore the blame. He remembers some particulars of a duel, in consequence, with an officious cousin of Chloris, but the affair appeared to him in a philosophical light more than any other; he wounded his adversary severely, and expected to feel a vast deal of horror and remorse for having done so; but he seemed to discover that the anguish of his spirit had seared his con- science, and made him indiffi jury. in regard to this rencoan cousin of Chloris, who was a or seemed to be, I find en by me in the form of letters our hero for the basis of a v romance. I select a few, an rest to romantic imagination. Letter from ~hloris to If This is the first time I hay. youit will probably be have a favor to request of y I have asked, and which final one, that you will quit and find some other lodging ther insists UI)Ofl remaining wishes me to live down, the injury which my reputati fered by the accident of night and has persuaded me not withdraw from society, or tc coldness to you. She even 5; ferently of the accident amo and makes a jest of it. This But for me, I feel that my h forever gone. The si0ht of with apprehension. While bounds with an agony of so you, I seem to behold in you ing destined to destroy me. this favor, dear friend, neve~ speak to me again. Banisi your thoughts, lest, if we meet, your thoughts should both, when we ought to see indifferent to each other. Fa Yoriclc to C/doris. I received your note an i my amiable friend, and am in grieved by it. Your mother prudence will certainly save tation from injury, and I can prove her plan. But for me, I you, my misery is greater bear. f am hurled this way contending passions. I am r stroy myself, and am withhe the fearof afflicting you. Do me from your presence. I w every emotion, and put on ance of cheerfulnessnay, truly cheerful, if you will ao your confidence and trust my Vale. 188 The Life and Opinion8 Chioris to Yoriclc. Your note, which I have just opened, gives me no comfort. I seem to know your nature better than I can know my own. Your ardent expressions destroy my courage. We must no longer in- dulge this reckless tenderness. It will destroy us; it will destroy me, whom you profess to regard. I confess I have not strength to resist your written words, much less your presence and voice. Be, then, my friend indeed, and save me from falling by my own weakness. denied that he had seen us t the wood, denied all that he i dently feigned to your father, he believed you to be an ang~ cence, and himself a liar accurs dear Chloris, I rescued your the cost of a trifling wound; fc to tell you, the ball of his rifle left arm and disabled it. I have obeyed your injuncti lodging is now at the farm- Wills bridge, where we hay- met. From the same to the same. C. Chioris to Yorich. I thank you, my generous your conduct, and yet in than I am informed of the particulars of have done wrong. Is there my cousins conduct, and from his own protect the innocent? N. expressions am persuaded that he means against slander? Unhappy if possible to take your life. See into whom society compels to be what misery we are already plunged by avengers. I begin to see tha our errors. For me, a reputation unde- region of barbarians, who on servedly lost, a father enraged, a mother the forms of civilization and rendered miserable. For you the hazard while they remain savage of your life, loss of honor to your own claimed at heart. My fathe name if you are slain, to mine if you be satisfied with your conduct, triumph. I beseech you leave this spires him at the same tin place,and yet my heart is weak, and ~ stronger determination against could not endure your disgrace. If you es. He forced from me to-day fly, all will pronounce you and myself that I should never voluntarily alike guilty. I should be compelled to again; he avers that no 01 destroy myself. Stay then, there is no will save my reputation or Si alternative; but if you love me avoid my selt~ My cousin recalled his presence. The sight of you fills, me but who can change opinic with anguish. You were to blame, will believe that we were innoc but not you alone. I begin to be a be- all are vicious? When we lo~ liever in fate, and mine is to perish in the forest, we lost our way soon. Yorick to Chioris. I have seen your father, an everything. He is cold and me off with conditions, talks a tion in life, providing for a what not else. I assure hi ability and my hopes, point present successes, and talk fri future. All will not do. He to connect himself with riche~ ion, and you are to be the mei not a person to his mind; he predestinated to poverty. By of Heaven, I will one day undc Yorick to Chioris. Your cousin boasted his skill, threat- ened loudly, and got shot for his pains. Murderer! do you exclaim !No dear- est friend, I am no murderer; he is wounded, but not dangerously. I did not design to injure him, but to defend you. I have forced the coward to retract, and to exculpate you before witnesses. The hall of my rifle struck his shoulder; he fell prone, and lay groveling in the dust, uttering the most contemptible cries, and declaring vehemently that all that he had said against us was false and a fic- tion of his own. The seconds came forward, and while they supported him in their arms, I forced from him a detail- ed confession of the lie, on the condition if he refused, of standing another shot. The coward trembled and recanted. He Chioris to Yorick. Farewell. We leave this day. Beware how you pursu me no letters, they will only regard into dislikedare I Could we in one brief momen 1847.] Of ~kW~ Yorick, Esq. love, and not learn hatred as quickly? 1 of angels n their battles a, say this for your good. And yet no- hosts of Lucifer, more than in thing has happened. We are both the curls of poor Chioris, which h. ~ame. It is duty compels me, and I more because his love was enr must hate the person who leads my heart pity for their coarseness? from its duty. I belong to my parents But see, our horseman hast and they shall control me in every par- plain, and is about entering ticular. Once more, farewell. Forget where we shall lose sight of h me as one living, cherish me as one sudden he checks his horse, dead,for so shall I do to yourself. ening the rein, leans forward CHLORIS. neck of his mute bearer. A upon the dust of the road. I-I On receiving this letter, Master Yorick wrenched with a deep agony hastened to the tavern, in hopes of at ders, he trembles; he wrings c least catching sight of his Chloris. She, his hair, and, as if pain had and her parents, had that morning taken pleasure, twists slowly out a their departure for the city. Without wiry locks; see! he faints, fa an instants delay our friend called for the hoofs of his horse, and lie~ his horse, and chiding the sluggish groom, dead, with his face toward the assisted in tightening the girths. in a mo- Shall we leave him there to inent he was on the way, galloping mad- friendless wretch? better die, s& ly down along the loops of a mountain live comfortless, and with he2 road. Straining every nerve, and urging consolation. his good horse with voice and spur, he A waggoner passing that w achieved the next summit, and saw be- our hero lying in the road; fore him, far off, among trees upon the standing by him; and, being c plain, a flash of sunlight reflected from sition better than his occu pat the pannel of a carriage. I will overtake seem to promise, conveyed ho them, thought he, before noon, for they and steed to the nearest farm-ho travel slowly, and checking his horse he was presently stripped and ~. to a moderate pace, he moved cautiously by the compassionate farmner~. along the rocky descent. Imagine to whom he had rendered servic yourself a plain of almost infinite extent, sickness. The next day, lindi towards the east, and towards the north too weak to travel, he rested, ~ and south, removed by a space of thirty nizing the absurdity of his pre1 leagues, the blue horns of a chain duct, as in attempting to folIo of mountains, tapering mistily in- he would only deepen her misF to the horizon. Fields of rank grain crease the anger of her parent and rich grass, interrupted by circular which struck him and occas patches of forest, and open groves, mark- sudden agony at the entranc ed at intervals by the glittering of white woodhe firmly resolved to gi cottages, and the wreathing of mists thoughts of his mistress, and along the crooked courses of riversthe write to her, nor, if possible, sun not yet an hour above his rising, image to visit his fancy. making every where vast breadths of Upon disconsolate lovers thc light and shadowbeyond all, the sea, a duties of life press with a pe dim, white, line sapphire clouds strewn disgusting obtrusiveness. Ma: amid the sky, and seeming to hang in its ick soon found it impossible to depths, slated by the purity of the air in the business of his professio imagine all this, while the burning face in that neighborhood; everyv~ of Sol is vailed for the moment by a presence of Chloris, like a Poet comely cloud, whose edges are an ame- ation, had given glory to the thystine embroideryand now look out splendor to the meanest thin~ of the eyes of our love-intoxicated friend her absence took all beauty fron upon this scene, and say whether he sees and all sweetness from the facc anything of its splendor, save an occa- He could not endure the filfhy sional glister of light on the japanned eats of physic. He abhorred I pannel of a lumbering coach; or per- ces he rendered, and despised th ceives any beauty in these sapphire he doled out; but his astonish, clouds that lie scattered over the floor of not a little on finding that, heaven, like plumes torn from the wings growth of his disgusts, his fa~ vor~. v.~o. ii. 13 190 The Life and Opinions with the public, and, if he deigned to exhibit a dose, or throw down a shillings worth of advice, the physic was swal- lowed as if it were something sacred, and the advice listened to and observed like the dictum of an oracle. In fine, our heros lovesickness got him the char- acter of a very Solomon; and, as his bearing had become more haughty and careless, as his misery deepened, to say nothing of the reputation of his galantry in the rifle rencounter, which earhed him the fear of all contemptible spirits and the admiration of the generous, he pro- mised fair to be the first county, had he but deigned the popularity so suddenly I him. Propositions for empl trust poured in upon him. woulil have him an overseer t with an adequate salary; auc bun his daughter and a share~ try trade; another begged he dertake the education of his not a few made him their ai if a sad countenance implied knowledge of the rights of their belongings. CHAPTER XXVII. RELIGION. FORTUNE is the only ~power which men dare defy and make light of. She bath no heart. Seriousness hath its seat in the passions, and is a distillation from their experiences. If of hate, then is it bitter, tasting of the root; if of love, then is it sweet and delicious; hence, all persons, but especially women, are affect- ed by those whose wisdom is founded in love affairs, and tastes of the sweet spice 9f amatory passion. Such are your great saints, and eremites, devoted to divine ardor and the contemplation of beatitudes. All the world, men, women, and children, run to hear and see them; there is a sweet fire in their eyes, and a honeyed accent of speech, which carry the heart away, and fill imagination with the most delicious ideas. Our hero long remained irresolute; for whatever disgust he might entertain for the practice of his profession, he found it difficult to escape the pressing solicita- tions of the sick, and their friends, who went angrily away from his door, when he declined prescribing for them tbr the reason, that he had given up the busi- ness. Meanwhile he suffered no incon- venience for want of money, though no means as yet appeared to him by which he might arrive at fortune. Betwixt one resolution and another, the summer, the autumn, and the winter passed away, and spring found him still occupied in his loathed employment. Meanwhile his melancholy increased, and began to un- dermine a constitution naturally strong, but abused and weakened by the excess of feeling. On a sudden, while riding, one cold March morning, through a solitary wood, whose carpet of pine leaves was yet patched with soiled snow, the path rough and dangerous, full of pit-falls, slides, and sharp stumps, the head throwing down show. flakes peeled from their twig~ overcast with muddy gray cb moist wind setting from th. idea struck him that he had r life deliberately meditated c condition, or of the present condition of his soul. The passion of love had m~ a breach in the materialism of intellect, persuading him of th of superior and beneficent, a~ merely evil, or indifferent bej the idea ot Chloris, he first sa bility of truth and innocence almost to the least gust of re vor that might blow across hi Beginning, as his wont v~ logical dilemma, he reasoned If there be no eternal futur. not how men spend their live ly or otherwise;if, then, r. happiness and a consolatio- properly indulge it. But if there be an eternity and punishments in the next ters much how men spend thc ligiously or otherwise. In the one case religion is in the other case it is necess~ events, therefore, we should for the sake of mere security is the best policy, he conclud of all chances. By the same dilemma he re~ self into admitting a just I conceding, at least, high pn its existence. Of mediation and redempti make little, having read upon those subjects. But on heavenly beauty, I have a w 1847.1 Of Philip Yorick, Esq. by me, from which the following is an After friendly salutations~ extract: and a wandering talk of S( Because beauties are many in num- he turned the conversati ber, as of form, sound, grace; the hea- channel of his present tb vens, the earth; the mind and spirit: I finding the man of praye seem to know that there is a super-essen- laid before him several of his tial beauty worthy of adoration, and plexities, which the good pr from which all the ]nterior sort are de- of so difficult a character, h rive(l and flow. It is this super-essential grily reproached his compr beauty perceived by the soul, which gives leaning toward Atheism. its charm to humanity, and makes it of this mettle he had had loving and beloved for its own sake. It and was thrown off his gu2 is sometimes visible in the features of in- warm exhortation, he propc fancy, more frequently in those of youth, everything by an appeal but most in those of old age. The poets said, to the throne, and invi endeavor to infuse its spirit into poems, to join him in a short pr and the artists into statues and pictures. doubts and evil suggestions It cannot be made to appear by any com- mounted, and, having tied th bination of forms inferior to the human a tree, went upon their kne. face, and in those only of the noblest though the ground was wet quality. This beauty is alw~ ys apparent and, what with his moody in those who possess itbut is also visi- and the fervent power of the I ble only to those who are endued with friend found his blood stran it. In the faces of apostles, saints, and and the spirit come upon martyrs, and above all, in that of Christ, fierce, regenerative, power. it is most evident, and indicates the im- gle of his soul was short, an mediate presence of the Comforter, or hope, shining through tears Spirit of Divine Love, which, by some his face. Thou hast wrestle ancient writers, has been named the love ther, said the preacher, and gin of the Father for the Son. victory over thyse.lf with To one who wrote and reasoned in this grace. Beware of falling then manner, as I am certain Master Yorick they went on their way rejoi- did, though indeed not at the period of For a period of sixty day& which we are now speaking, it is neces- bouts, this new passion ab sary to ascribe an intellect susceptible of quite, and seemed to banish religious enthusiasm, and a heart liable sentiments from his soul. to ecstatic emotions. he knew divine grace, and h; Now, then, we find him affected by perfect sweetness, but in all spring heats of passion, engendered by he remembered the name of t melancholy and moisture, and here rea- the evening of the sixtieth soning, under a canopy of March mists, alone, as usual, he re-calcula on the probabilities of a future state. babilities of the existence of While thus engaged, he saw before him and a future state, and do atraveller, mounted on a lean black horse, probability he wished to di which he continually urged forward. tainty; but the Absolute refu~ His figure was lank and uncouth, envel- itself known; he remained oped in a rusty brown cloak with a stand- Meanwhile, his passion ret ing collar, and of which the skirts barely greater force; for it seemed a covered his knees. His feet were turned his nature to be always intox outward in an ungainly fashion, and some hope. He had heard wagged with the motion of the horse. Chlonis or her parents, and Onhisheadheworealow-crowned, broad- much as know whether she brimmed hat, apparently of felt, hut rusty or deceased. During a month and din ted, from under which his straight agonizing suspense, from the black hair hung low, hiding a lean and the r~appearance of his passior withered neck. Our hero saw that it was wasted away, and he becamc the Methodist preacher, travelling his of the least exertion of mind; round; and knowing him to be a man not ness began to fail; he comm without sense, and of a companionable errors through inadvertency, temper, he spurred forward and overtook suspected of insanity. Pere him. own situation, he took a er 192 Tue Life and Opinions olution, sold his stock of physic and his library, and rode off in the direc- tion of the city where the parents of his divinity resided. This hefel on the 10th of June. Master Yorick was just then entering his twenty-first year. His whole interest in this world, consisted in a horse, a change of linen, the clothet and a few dollars in silver. H himself as a hero and a gent1 ing on his enterprises; oth upon him as a needy adventur his fortune. CHAPTER XX III. THE CATASTROPHE. An adventurer seeking his fortune, with a foreign face, a mixed accent, coarse clothes, and a hush of neglected beard, he rode into the city, meditating but one thing, to see his Chloristo speak with her, if it was only for an in- stant. To win from her a single look of affection, was the height of his expecta- tion; he thought of nothing beyond. As he rode up the principal street of the city, observing that his rustic appearance at- tracted attention, he turned down a nar- row, unfrequented street. The windows on either hand were low, and mostly open, for coolness. As he passed one of the meanest of the houses, walking his horse at a leisurely pace, he looked in at the narrow window, and saw reclining on a miserable sofa, a person who seem- ed to be the one whom he sought. With an almost breathless expectation he dis- mounted, and fastening his horse, lifted and let fall the iron knocker of the door, and listened. Presently a light step an- swered, and his heart assured him that it was hers. She opened the door, and stood before him plainly attired, and very much changed in appearance. Her figure, which had been full to robustness, had become slender and almost frail. Her color, which had been white and red, in a glowing contrast, had faded to a faint, uniform sallowness. The lustre of her eyes had disappeared, and the vivacity of her manner. Only her mouth retaine(l its marvelous mixture of subtlety and sweetness, which Master Yorick has since compared, in his minds eye, with that of Medusa before the serf)ents be- gan to start from her head. It expressed a mixture of all passions, harmonized by a serious humor. It was this feature which had at first bewitched our friend, and he instantly felt its power. Chloris did not at first recognize her lover through his slovenly disguise. He inquired of her, in a somewhat husky voice, whether the persons whom he named occupied this house. He named her parents. She replied that they did not, but that if he had anythi. municate to them, she would [ senger. He said he had sos. communicate, and they walke into the parlor, she failing to him in the dimness. He too with his back to the window disguised voice continued the tion, trusting her near-sight conceal him. Pretending an her fathers affairs, he learnc had become a bankrupt and debtors prison; with enough ticulars to explain the prese condition of his mistress. All in an instant. He rose to C thought he saw a change in 1 sion. It was slight, almost ble; she came forward, and pu in his. They sat down togc the sofa, and Chloris leaned upon his shoulder, and for som gave free course to her te; these two friends had expresse. derness, and conversed long sweet signs which are unde~ in the mysterious fellowship Yorick expressed his sorrow thers misfortunes, and her o of circumstances. Not for n answered, but for him, and ft ther. I assure you [am happ erty than in wealth, and nox nearer heaven, she added, w~ trating smile, that pierced to of his bones. It was the seco had seen this terrible smile; o~ walking with her alone, he sp happiness that lay before the the honor and riches he meant for her sake. On that occasm him the same sensations, and himself, this girl is#no woir Nemesis; she fills me with with doubt. The conversation was conti renewed his hopessaid he x~ of the future, and urged her to trust in him. No, she answ; drawing her hand from his, an 1847.] Of Philip Yorick, .Esq. to her cheek, I have but a week to live; you may save me, if you can, but I feel that my days are numbered to the seventh, and no farther. This announcement struck our friend with amazement, as it well might. Sus- pecting the condition of her mind, he proceeded cautiously to inquire out every particular. She had retired to this house, leaving her mother in the country; for she had not had courage to communicate her convictions to either parent. The house was inhabited by a female cousin, who provided everything necessary, out of pity for her destitute condition. Un- der pretence of visiting, she had come here to die. He endeavored to ascertain the symp- toms and history of her disease, but, through an excessive modesty, she con- cealed so much, he could not arrive at a perfect diagnosis of her state, and conse- quently knew not precisely what course to adopt. He proposed to her to consult the most notdd practitioners. She refused, pre- ferring death to exposure, and refusing to put confidence in their prescriptions. She had conceived a high opinion of our friends medical knowledge, and would have no other aid than his. Loaded with this responsibility, and without confi- dence in his own skill, he went instantly to a celebrated practitioner, and gave him his diagnosis of the disease, imperfect as it was. The savan recommend?d bread pills and low diet. Some whom he ad- vised with, insisted on seeing the patient; others would have her bled. None seemed to be worthy of confidence. He returned, full of anguish, and in lieu of right treatment, would have applied the usual routine. She seemed to understand his hesitation. I perceive, said she, that you love me too well to help me. It is no matter; my time has come. I shall die on Saturday, soon after midhight; and lest you think me insane, or guilty of self-murder, I assure you the disease is periodic, and has very nearly destroyed me at two several times. I was then in full health; now I am feeble, and have the seeds of decline; I know the symp- toms, and they are unfailing. Three days of agonizing uncertainty were al- ready elapsed. It was necessary to come to a decision. He again investigated the case, consulted books in the public libra- ries, talked with some who seemed to have a knowledge of the disease, and at length tixed upon a course. She submit- ted to everything, and bee in his hands. His hoper acquiescence. He even his task with the assur~ practitioner, and with the male cousin, effected all he necessary. 0, my frier were dark days for thee act of thine carried in it th~ Then didstthouthink muc The better to carry o took a lodging close at mained with his Chlori; greater part of the day a forbade him to send wor tion to her friends, and d. all but her cousin and hi but a little time to live, let us be content with er one can help me, if you All his endeavors to send for her mother prove She will persecute me w doctor, was the reply; die by the hand of my Ma dicine. He then urged the neglect, and the duty c parent. She answered th temper, which was pert would only unfit her for I death. She wished at le and undisturbed. He the a clergyman of her own of no church, she answer church of which all shoul you can read and pray this he objected the ineffi ers made by a person not Though the room wa~ could perceive that on he smiled faintly. Cousin, ing to her friend who sat side of the bed, will you v ing on of hands; God strength to impart his spin son. So saying, she rose to which she had that d vas the seventh from prediction, and was near bidding him kneel beside her fair hands upon the head of her true lover, w burns with a soft fire at th and in brief phrase solici of the Inspirer upon him self. 1-ler words, as ne: members, were as follows Holy One! thou who spirit of love and of unmo the soul of the universal c I feel within me; despise 194 The Life and Opinions of one who is now neither man nor wo- man, but a vessel of truth; descend upon this person; be communicated to him, that he be henceforth devoted, and sancbfied eternally, to thy purposes. The fires of a sacred madness shone in her eyes: her features glowed with the inspiration of a prophet. She bade him read to her from the hook of Reve- lations, and listening, expounded the meaning, verse by verse. Her exposi- tion resenibled that of Swedenborg anti Behmen; anti Master Yorick then re- membered that she had once been con- versant with those writers, and had en- tereri deep into the spirit of the New Jerusalem Church. All was now ac- counted for. About midnight she became quiet, and talked mildly and rationally ; seemed even to regret that she had not seen her mo- ther; spoke of death as the entrance.of the soul into a spiritual condition, in which it would be in close communion with the souls of the good, both in and out of- the body. She sat up in the bed, supported by pillows, and with her eyes closed, but seemed to see everything as usual, though the candle had been placed behind a shutter, which made the room almost dark. She heard voices in the next house and in the street, which were inaudible to others. At about one oclock she took the hand of her lover, and pressed it gently in her own. Now, said she, I perceive your thoughts, and they are selfish and unworthy of your- self. You are thinking how you shall answer to my mother for not sending for her. Let that matter rest: my mother is at this moment playing cards with a young officer who affects her. My fa- ther will die within a month, and then my mother and the officer will marry, and go to England. Their love is not like ours, said she, smiling: we are true hea- venly lovers. Then, after a l)ause ~y mother has no affection for me, because she knows of my secret adherence to the New Jerusalem Church; she will not lament my death now, but some years hence I shall visit her; we are similar souls in some features) but she was con- taminated by bad company; the good spirits deserted her. Her cousin at that instant left the room. She is a good girl, said she, but has no insight; her heart is blind. I can see with my heart better than with my intellect. She then remained silent for several minutes, and seemed to be much aoitated. Do you see, sa~ white object at the foot o Her companion replied that My mother, said she, is looking at you. She speak~ is goneiiow there are sevc (and she named several who. know,) and now they are g Soon after, with an impo tion, he leaned over ~nd kis head, which was cold to the did not seem to observe it, sently, You have a good hr easily deceivetl; you are thr lusion, and the sport of evil after this separation I will vi~ anti protect you from them. entertain me? In a voice sorrow, be replied that noi ever separate her image fr Ah! said she, you have but lack faith : I fe~fr that faith will separate us here become present to each o faith alone. At one oclock a moist her hands; her companion and wiped them dry. She to have been asleep, and st her eyes half open and fi said she to her cousin, the of spirits. Do you see them overcome with terror, replo ative Why do you fear? thusiast; here is an angel wings sitting just by you of the bed; he is talking other spirits in me talk to moment her eyes became br and seemed to be phospho sighed deeply, cried out c antI made an effort to Yorick sprang forward to she embraced him, leaned I his shoulder, and in that pired. * * While I write, my frieni for me below, but I am in meet thema frame trembl tion, a face blubbered with all the signs of passior must bide myself a while. The joy of others is bit the passions of others dull derrate all losses when c my own ;I am poor iii tI fluence, melancholy in the ure, sick at soul when ti of strength. There is no consolation any passion. Nothing co 1847j Of rhilip Yorick, Esq. the Eternal. We must know and suffer, but this is only the seed of our saval- tion :our heaven lies above all storms even the pulses of the sunlight cannot penetrate there; When I consider the structure of the world, the motions of the spheres, and their harmony ;Space filled with ethe- real principles emanating from theiratomic centres, and by an idea, creating this vision which we name world,looking before and after,or, by another reach of intellect, when I contemplate the sys- tem of life created upon matter, and made visible and active through it,ve- getable growth, the instincts, powers, the passions, self, cunning, understanding, by which grains of organic dust are put in connection with all time and all space, and intimately with each other; my soul yet remains unsatisfied, and longs for a profounder sentiment of truth. In search of this universal solvent of doubts, of this philosophers stone, and keystone of all knowledge, have I not conversed, and meditated, and studied much, and with small results ?I tell thee, friend Pantologus, not withstanding all thy sciences, thou hast not found out. Thy stadies are hut addenda to the Anatomy of Melancholy. As a good housewife out of divers fleeces weaves one piece of cloth, a bee gathers wax and honey out of many flowers, and makes a new bundle of all, Floriferis ut apes in[saltibus omnia libant, so hast thou laboriously but ineffectual- ly collected out of all knowledges the marrow, the pith, the honey, the thread, t he true substance. Thou hast wrong- ed no man, but given each his own, the matter is theirs and yet thine,it is ap- parent whence it came, yet as nature doth with food, so dost thou assimilate and incorporate their collections and dis- coveries, composing thy Pantologium tby true body of knowledge, reaching from the atoms and grains of matt~ all the stages, even to self and his works ;thoug faithfully perused this, and authorities, I have found in th edge indeed, but not consolati art the physician of my intellc of my soul. Nay, I have fault to find for leading me astray, and ~ me with thy crudities and To what am I indebted for th larities and Slawkenbergian di which deface my work, mislen er, and fill me with after-disc to thy foul example? In the of my melancholy friend, other faults of barbarism, Dc extemporanean style, tautolo~ imitations, (as of Rabelais, S vantes, Apulieus, Lucian, & c. a tribe of melancholy wits, infected me,) a rhapsody of cies, toys and fopperies - tumbled out, without art, judgment, wit, learning ;hmi rude, phantastical, absurd, (instance that impertinent Pie argument) indiscrete, (as in eulogism of the divine Sla. ilicomposed, (as in the wor ly,) undigested, vain, scur~ ness chapter xiLmy acco Long Noses, and. of the mont kyloosa, a symbol which fe~ pher,) dull, and dry; I confc partly affected)Yet, I say, sion, thou canst not think w than I do of myself. And I dude my story and my comm you go with me to the weddi na and Clementine are to be. evening in the village church, among the hills. Come, we an hours enjoyment, at le- master of all ceremoni~, in v gravity, which is unconquera 196 A Word of Encouragement. A WORD OF ENCOURAGEMENT. OH, think on life, with eager hope, To gain the good, the true! Find out thy spirits proper scope, Then steel thyself, and do. Let nothing sway thee from thy task, When once thy foot is hraced; Disdain deceits convenient mask, Virtue is open-faced. And though a host against thee ride, Be calm, courageous, strong; To right, a friend unterrified A sturdy foe to wrong. Strike for the holy cause of Truth, For freedom, love, and light; Strike, with the heart and hope of youth, The hiows of manhoods might. Perchance, mid conflict thou mayst fall, What matter? To thy rest! Gods voice thy faithful soul doth call, Thou art his welcome guest! And from thy peaceful home on high, Thoult see the cause march on The cause of right can never die, While God and Truth are one. 1846. HUGH BRIDousso

Hugh Bridgesson Bridgesson, Hugh A Word of Encouragement 196-197

196 A Word of Encouragement. A WORD OF ENCOURAGEMENT. OH, think on life, with eager hope, To gain the good, the true! Find out thy spirits proper scope, Then steel thyself, and do. Let nothing sway thee from thy task, When once thy foot is hraced; Disdain deceits convenient mask, Virtue is open-faced. And though a host against thee ride, Be calm, courageous, strong; To right, a friend unterrified A sturdy foe to wrong. Strike for the holy cause of Truth, For freedom, love, and light; Strike, with the heart and hope of youth, The hiows of manhoods might. Perchance, mid conflict thou mayst fall, What matter? To thy rest! Gods voice thy faithful soul doth call, Thou art his welcome guest! And from thy peaceful home on high, Thoult see the cause march on The cause of right can never die, While God and Truth are one. 1846. HUGH BRIDousso 1847.] .Eines-sons Poems. EMERSONS POEM 5~* THE aims of poetry being equally pleasure and instruction; but first plea- sure, for if this condition is unfulfilled the form becomes rather an obstacle than a medium; we, (the reader, not the critic,) require that a certain propriety and regu- larity shall inspire the form and the mea- sure of verses; that the line be full, sounding, and of a free construction, not feeble, harsh, or cramped. The accents and pauses must fall agreeably, and the sense follow easily along the line, rather helped than impeded by it. If these con- ditions are not fulfilled we lay the work aside with indifference, or with a feeling of dislike. In prose, on the other hand, we seldom seek no pleasure in the form, but look to the substance; and if the writer, fail- ing in his subject, seeks to deceive us with a monotonous, rhetorical, or false metrical movement, we are as quickly wearied or disgusted. As our percep- tions are more universal and refined, these conditions become more essential, and the absence of them occasions a more lively dissatisfaction. If the matter is good, or merely extraordinary, we may easily neglect or overcome our repugnance, and read a bad writer to be possessed of good matter: hut in such case we concede nothing to the writer but fair intentions, which are at best a weak substitute for good works. The design is well endugh, bnt the work inferior; it serves a pur- pose of utility, but must presently give way to something better; and in making a choice we very readily prefer a present pleasure before a contingent gooda handsome lie to a homely truth. But what shall be said of a writer who neglects to please his reader, at the same instant that he assaults his virtue? We said tbat it was an absolute con- dition of poetry that it should give plea- sure by its form; but if our own experi- ence may be admitted as valid,and whose shall guide us if not our own ? poetry, to give pleasure, must have a form, internally as well as externally beautiful, else we concede it no praise. It must discover the character of the poet as in itself excellent, or at least ac- quainted with excellence. As the refinements of human society are but the exhibition of human honor and courtesy, presiding over ing all to their proper exprc are compelled to think of the poet prefers it only as a able medium of generous ar sentiments. He does not merely ha~ loves and griefs, warbling fiercely, like a bird, but rath- gedy, endeavors to express hog principles, the laws and of the passions, that he may self a more perfect title to man. Supposing our conditions were still unjust to abuse o any person who writes witl tentions, for showing himse fulfil his own design. Wha~ imperfect, the reader lays as~ emotion perhaps of pity; bui with a writing which offer. front, and puts itself in a p0: thority, with a power of a~ reads with attention the which seem to insult or to cc: Whatever would be likel him, in the personal bearing thor, will have the same effec nor degree through his writir ever sweetness, justness, or lighted him in the man, will in the author; but here we su that the author is so far skill at least able to put himse~f he must be educated, and words, to entitle himself to a moral test. He must be able 1 own ideas of vice and virtt: mind of the reader. This will all doubtless be , the intelligent reader and crit~ only remark, that something ed also on the readers part; thor brings meanings, I must to comprehend them, Thus, poet begins his poem with a that The sense of the world i~ which is the first line of a lines, entitled Eros, in thh Mr. Emersons Poems, I siir my inability to understand words are good English; the tion grammatical, and the mean ~ Poems. By Ralph Waldo Emerson. Boston: James Monro. 184

Emerson's Poems 197-208

1847.] .Eines-sons Poems. EMERSONS POEM 5~* THE aims of poetry being equally pleasure and instruction; but first plea- sure, for if this condition is unfulfilled the form becomes rather an obstacle than a medium; we, (the reader, not the critic,) require that a certain propriety and regu- larity shall inspire the form and the mea- sure of verses; that the line be full, sounding, and of a free construction, not feeble, harsh, or cramped. The accents and pauses must fall agreeably, and the sense follow easily along the line, rather helped than impeded by it. If these con- ditions are not fulfilled we lay the work aside with indifference, or with a feeling of dislike. In prose, on the other hand, we seldom seek no pleasure in the form, but look to the substance; and if the writer, fail- ing in his subject, seeks to deceive us with a monotonous, rhetorical, or false metrical movement, we are as quickly wearied or disgusted. As our percep- tions are more universal and refined, these conditions become more essential, and the absence of them occasions a more lively dissatisfaction. If the matter is good, or merely extraordinary, we may easily neglect or overcome our repugnance, and read a bad writer to be possessed of good matter: hut in such case we concede nothing to the writer but fair intentions, which are at best a weak substitute for good works. The design is well endugh, bnt the work inferior; it serves a pur- pose of utility, but must presently give way to something better; and in making a choice we very readily prefer a present pleasure before a contingent gooda handsome lie to a homely truth. But what shall be said of a writer who neglects to please his reader, at the same instant that he assaults his virtue? We said tbat it was an absolute con- dition of poetry that it should give plea- sure by its form; but if our own experi- ence may be admitted as valid,and whose shall guide us if not our own ? poetry, to give pleasure, must have a form, internally as well as externally beautiful, else we concede it no praise. It must discover the character of the poet as in itself excellent, or at least ac- quainted with excellence. As the refinements of human society are but the exhibition of human honor and courtesy, presiding over ing all to their proper exprc are compelled to think of the poet prefers it only as a able medium of generous ar sentiments. He does not merely ha~ loves and griefs, warbling fiercely, like a bird, but rath- gedy, endeavors to express hog principles, the laws and of the passions, that he may self a more perfect title to man. Supposing our conditions were still unjust to abuse o any person who writes witl tentions, for showing himse fulfil his own design. Wha~ imperfect, the reader lays as~ emotion perhaps of pity; bui with a writing which offer. front, and puts itself in a p0: thority, with a power of a~ reads with attention the which seem to insult or to cc: Whatever would be likel him, in the personal bearing thor, will have the same effec nor degree through his writir ever sweetness, justness, or lighted him in the man, will in the author; but here we su that the author is so far skill at least able to put himse~f he must be educated, and words, to entitle himself to a moral test. He must be able 1 own ideas of vice and virtt: mind of the reader. This will all doubtless be , the intelligent reader and crit~ only remark, that something ed also on the readers part; thor brings meanings, I must to comprehend them, Thus, poet begins his poem with a that The sense of the world i~ which is the first line of a lines, entitled Eros, in thh Mr. Emersons Poems, I siir my inability to understand words are good English; the tion grammatical, and the mean ~ Poems. By Ralph Waldo Emerson. Boston: James Monro. 184 198 Emersons Poems. less, profound: 1, only, am to blame, for missing it. The first rule of interpreta- tion, however, is to read on. The sense of the world is short; Long and various the report, To love and be beloved Men and gods have not outlearned it, And, how oft soeer theyve turned it, Tis not to be improved. It is as difficult to conceive of a skort sense, as of a long reportunless we think of short-sightedness or treasury report. Yet the author undoubted- ly had a design in forcing the words into these connections. He wished to add new phrases to the language. Upon a rather tedious investigation, we seem to know his meaning; he informs us that love is an ultimate fact of nature, and has no explanation; which no man will deny,but against this modern associa- tion of men and gods, as if they were persons of the same category, and against the comparison of their joint experience in love matters to the turning of a coat, which was not improved by the turning, having, indeed, been very frequently turned, it seems proper to enter a modest protest. The godss are just now quite extinct, and need not be respectfully allud- ed to in any poems that are not imitations of the classics, under which head the stanza just quoted does not fall. The title of this stanza also attracts our at- tention. Eros, is the Greek word for Love. Seeing the name of the passion in good Greek, we look for some de4icate or powerful expression of it in the Greek manner; but this was not the object of our poet; he sought rather by this assem- blage of obscurities and uncouth phra- ses, and, perhaps, even by the compari- son of amatory experience, to the turning of a coat, to impress us in a mystical manner, with the difficulty and obscu- rity of Eros itself, the whole being to say, that we know nothing of that passion. On the whole, this very empty and creak- ing little stanza, though it give neither pleasure nor instruction, must he regard- ed as a masterpiece of art; and its faults, doubtless voluntarily exposed, like the rags of penitents, serve to symbolize the philosophical humility of the spirit which conceived it. Looking farther, guided by the titles of the pieces of these poems, which are all of a very mystical sound, as for ex- ample, The Visit, The Problem, Guy, Woodnotes, Monadnuc, Astrna, Good Bye, The Sphinx, Uriel, we allow our fa swayed by the last, as it is t indeed, very pretty. Uriel, syllabic poem, of some sixty taming a mystical anecdote C impudent young angel: It fell in the ancient perio. Which the brooding soul Or ever the wild Time coin& Into calendar months and The reader will not fail this pretty epitaph of wild, the venerable Saturn, the an or the neat mechanical co that gray-haired deity mi stamping himself, Into calendar montbs and Which makes him also the the calendar, as distinguish tural months and days; to rangement astronomers mighi ly object, claiming the calen own invention; hut the w and Saturn himself, have poets need not he astronomc better notions of Time than 1 money. This, continues the poci lapse of Uriel, whom Said perfect participle of the ye overheard talking among deities, who in a treasonable discusL Laws of form and metre ju~ a conversation at which it been profitable to be present One, with low tones that dc And doubt and reverend us that is to say, which do and at that time defiedan what may be termed bread more immediate sense, agilil sion, which overleaps all grammar, and pays a grand to the readers penetration, Uriel, With a look that solved the marklie was a divine kind who could square the cir. look, And stirred the devils every The devils appear simme and Uriel stirs them up wit his eye, as with a rod of bri Gave his sentiment div Against the being of a lb that is to say, he denied tha 1847.] Poems. any real lines or boundaries, but that all lines or boundaries being negations, are nought ;which being an excessively true proposition, we enter fully into the merit of this grand way of enunciating it. Observe the singularly ideal and mystical character of this passage. Here we have the perfect itarticiple Said, walking by itself, or himself. The per- fect participle overhears the young gods in a metaphysical debate. Uriel, with an air of hauteur not unworthy of a Kepler-dLsraeli, if such a creature were possible, pronounces against the exist- ence of mathematical negations, all the while squaring the circle with his eye; in such a fashion the very devils, simmer- ing in the pit of Tophet, are stirred up by it. As lJrieI spoke with piercing eye A shudder ran through all the sky. Lie, it must be observed,not only squares the circle and stirs up Tophet with his eye, (he seems to have but one,) but actually speaks with it in a piercing maii~ ner. Line in nature is not found; Unit and universe are round In vain produced, all rays return, Evil wilt bless and ice ~vili burn. These astonishing propositions, which might well stir up the pit of this worlds theater, he delivers with his piercing eye; by nods and winks doubtless of the most complicated signifi- cance. lIe informs hisfriends in a deep voice, like a general officers that line that is to say, the abstract of all kinds of lines, is a substance not to be found in nature,he then adds that units are round ;meaning of course to except tbose which are square or of other figures ;--that all rays are produced in vain, having to return whence they were produced, like the money of the usurer, lent in vain, since it must return to his pocket ;and lastly, that evil, or that which does not bless, does nevertheless bless, and vice versa. When Master IJriel delivers himself in this style, a shudder runs through all the sky, as it well might, seeing that all things seemed, in danger of being turned up, and set upon their beads. Strong Hades could not keep his own, But slid all to confusion, just because of this speech of Uriels, who for his part profited little; for A sad self-knowledge withering fell On the beauty of Uriel. Which line requires to be r On the beautee of You-ry It seemed that by his valu~ matical discovery of the n lines, and his chemical one character of ice, he unfortut down upon himself a with knowledge ; he retires from indulges his metaphysical sp Meanwhile, the angels, wr great lovers of science on the get the propositions of Un occasionally reminded of them their own discontent on obse Speeding change of water or the fact Of good from evil born, on which occasions, a blush tingea the upper sI And the gods shook, they kne Of Perfect Participles the treason, or of what acti we are not informed, but o overheard it; which has its piece of information at least. In a spirit of profound re spired by the study of our pr and Uriel, we again open and fall upon this lot I beginning, On a mound an Arab which Arab, it seems, affect. mione. The name being Go dude the lady to have been particular is left to the im the reader. Of the Arab i lay in this manner ott a mOn rurt~s thus, that having been the schools of Bassora In old Bassoras schools, hermit vowed to books and Ill bestead for gay bridegro. he sees this Flermione, and was by her touch red When thy meteor glan We talked at large of wo And drew truly every tr~ The comparison of meteors, I ble, will not perhaps satfsf ous, nor the uncertainty b the word trait, with the q of what ?but here, too, V admirable theory comes ii poet, that if he finds word 200 Emersons Poems. must find meanings to them, and the lof- tier the meanings, the better will the verses appear; which shows how abso- lutely the quality of verse depends upon the imagination and taste of the reader. At some future age, highly as we appre- ciate our poet, who knows but a pre- vailing ignorance and gross common sens- icalness may sink his works into obliv- ion, their deep subtleties being all in vain. Before quitting this part of the poem, we would recommend the reader to no- tice the artistical effect of the omission of a, indefinite article, before hermit, in the se,~ond line. It intensifies and gene- ralizes the word. He seemed not only to be a hermit, hut hermit in general the very substance or notion of hermit, so very eremitish was his look. The poem opens very prettily On a mound an Arab lay, And sung his sweet regrets And told his amulets; The summer bird His sorrow heard, And when he heaved a sigh profound, The sympathetic swallow swept the ground. Whyona mound? Wasthismounda green or a dry,a low or a high one? What is the summer bird? and what kind is the sympathetic swallow ?are these two one? To one only of which we replythat as the action of sweep- ing the ground in a swallow, is for the purpose of catching flies or grasshoppers, we must conclude the fly-catching in- stinct of the swallow, supposed also to be identical with the summer bird, to be in secret sympathy with the sighing or gaping propensities of our Arab; not that analogy leads, therefore, to conclude that both the parties in sympathy were at fly-catchingwhich would be to con- sider too curiouslyhut only that as one eased his desire by gaping or sigh- ing, the other gratified it by swooping a grasshopperan analogy which dis- covers, also, the deep philosophy hidden in the image of this sympathy. The second verse is as harmonious as the first, and contains a depth of original remark really extraordinary If it be, as they said, she was not fair, Beauty s not beautiful to me, But sceptred genius aye inorhed Culminating in her sphere. Here is a strong example of the use of the conditional :If she was not beautiful, says the bard, rath~ then beauty is not beautiful instance of the strongest kin tioning: as if one should say ones verses are not stiff and I stiffness and barrenness are r barren ; or, if he is not a poetaster is not a poetaster; mon-sense language, and to you and I have different na. same thing, and what you ca call ugliness; what you cal genius, I call barren concetti. tinuing, he says: It is not hr call beautiful, but genius alwa complete and rounded, and c or at her summit; this is x~ beautiful. Handsome is that does, in the adageor, in sense, that handsome thinks of which we conclude that Hermione was no beauty, great wit and genius, lik George Sand; and our hero thought proper to argue this himself, whether he had not consider her handsome, on he genius and wit, notwithstandi might be hinted by short-sigh of no wit or genius to the co the next verse he compares hr of spiritual sponge, or to the of the Hindoos. This Hermione absorbed The lustre of the land and Hills and islands, clouds a In her form arid motion. This Hermione is here plai guished from that other Hermi is a very neat and modern Wordsworth has the same 1 his Lucy, that is expresse to this particidar Ilermione, w for all, the reader is desired fuse with that other. The floating clouds their stat To her; for tier the willow be: Nor shall she fail to see, Eveti in the motiors of the stoi- Grace that shall mould the mai By silent sympathy. The stars of midnight shall hr To her; and she shalt lean her In many a secret place, Where rivulets dance their ways And beauty, born of murmurino Shall pass into her face. Here we do not find the in sponge, but merely a descrij. natural efiect of melody and vi: 1847.] Emersons Poems. ty in softening the expression of the hu- man features. Our author not only imi- tates Wordsworth and most other poets, but far excels them in their own peculi- arities. Thus in the next verse who but Dr. Donne appears in exaggerated out- lineDonne more Donneish than Donne, or as one might say, over-Donne. I ask no bauble miniature, Nor ringlets dead, Shorn from her comely head, Now that morning not disdains Mountains and the misty plains Her colossal portraiture They her heralds be, Steeped in her quality, And singers of her fame Who is their muse and dame. Having a colossal picture of her depicted by the hills and plains, though in what fashion none but a Swedenborgian may conceive, he asks no miniature nor lock of hair. But the plains and mountains that were just now her picture, are sud- denly become her heralds, and are also in some -mysterious manner steeped or soaked in the quality, or in a kind of essence of Hermione, which essence she has previously absorbed from land and ocean, and now squeezes out upon the hills and mountains at the in- stant of their transformation from a pic- ture into a company of heralds, singing her praises. In some Asiatic poets, we have hills skipping and clapping their hands in honor of the Being who made them; but here they execute much more remarkable vagaries, in honor of a cer- tain homely Greek woman, who seems to have eloped with a Syrian of bad re- putation, and in their mountainous folly these deluded eminences mistake her for a tenth muse. By these figures, it seems, the very swallows were astounded; and our Arab pathetically solicits them not to mind him, but to fly a little higher out of hearing Higher, dear swallows, mind not what I say; Ah! heedless how the weak are strong, Say, was it just, In thee to frame, in me to trust, Thou to the Syrian couldst belong~ which being addressed entirely to Her- mione, and very properly made incom- prehensible to us, it would be unfair in this connection to adduce Aristotles ra- ther illiberal remark, that the first virtue of a good style is perspicuity. The sixth verse of this poem particular inferior to the others. Once I dwelt apart, Now I live with all; As a shepherds lamp on far hit Seems, by the traveller espied, A door into the mountain heart So didst thou quarry and unloc Highways for me through the As a shepherds lamp seems a didst thou quarry a door; by w~ junction, seems, is made a ve~ verb, and to seem a door means as to hew out a door. But thi one not only quarries doors the rocks, but unlocks them after quarried So didst thou quarry and unloc which shows her very worth confidence. She not only doors for him expressly hut alsc ed them. Nevertheless, he add: Now, deceived thou wand In strange lands unblest; And my kindred come to soc Now the kindred of ordinary m his cousins, uncles, aunts, pare dren, & c.but this mysterious forms us that South wind is my next of bb He is come through fragrant w And in every twinkling glad And twilight nook, Unvails thy form, & c. expressions which lead to a of the sanity of our Arab fri. calls the south wind his next of personifies him as a kind of an Pandarus in the same breath. Then come all the genera of River and rose and crag and Frost and sun and eldest night bringing consolation to our die Arab. Their catalogue, thougi enumeration of genera without finite articles, is in no sense a tion; poets being exempted forms of science, by the same that acquits them of logic and g but none more than these sante or mystical poets, who see no comparing true love to the joint of compasses, and will easily over the widest analogy, and a god to a goose, or the 202 Emersons Poems. eternity to the stupor of an idiot, with the greatest indifference, and Without the least sense of the absurd. The genera of nature assemble about our Arab, and bid him console himself for the absence of his love; that he and she so closely resemble each other, they will he always doing the same things: Deed thou doest she must do ; hinting that perhaps, after all was said, he might find her in himself, or in na- ture; that she in her turn should find him in waterfalls and woods; that he had better give up the intention of follow- ing her steps in distant regions, and be content with this ideal intercourse of souls in nature; to ~vhich, if Hermione herself acceded, and would as soon find her Arab in wood and water, stubble and stone, we give her credit for more philosophy than affection. And with this recommendation of the elements, our Arab seems to have been satisfied, for we hear no more of him. If the reader has not yet penetrated the meaning of the poem, we venture to sug- gest that it is intended for a kind of es- thetic consolation to ideally disposed young men and women, unsuccessful in love; and as it happens for the most that such persons are well ilisposed to console themselves with the flatulent diet of metaphysics, this production is likely to be of eminent service; nor will any but the most ill:favored and utterly inhumane quote against it that saying of scripture, If my son ask bread, shall I give him a stone? or exclaim with So- crates, Rocks and trees teach me nothing, therefore I keep the company of men ! For be it known to these hard-hearted per- sons, the best substitute for the passion of love itself,is the passion of self-love, and that is most successfully cultivated by a resort to rural solitudes, where the studious mind sees only its own image in the forms of nature, and is seldotn of- fended by the insults of a laughing world. In this truly precious and inexhaustibe volume, written by the author, riot in his sleep, I fancy, but in moods of wayward genius, casting off the fetters of rhyme, metre, logic, grammar, and science, and with a grand scorn trifling wiih very Deity itself, in its great fits, drunken with the wine of the spirit, and like some or- acle, uttering verses more rude than Rhunic rhymes, and shriller and more incoherent than what he himself has elsewhere styled the scream phets, hut, like those scream Jar sentences, precious f meaning. There begins to be needc pology a division of a clas epicures. We have epicur. inferior desires, but none rc the superior. Yet there epicures of praise, and epic inventors and tasters of the flatteries, who make the glow of these tastes the w purpose of their existence. now enter into a psycholo~ concerning the nature and c kinds of epicurism; but su~ to be well known and d let us suppose a perfect a ing between their several The epicure of foods and gluttonous or indelicate in h wines; on the contrary, nc imagined more elegant and phical. Your ideal epicure hut he lives with an air. to eat, rides to eat, trr thinks, converses, philoso~ cial, hospitablenay, pray~ giousthat he may live, an Eating he lives, and eating brit in a gentlemanlyif p Christian fashion. This ~suous epicure. A step higher brings us cures of intellect and passior fight, to argue, to dream, to ships, to ride hobbies ;.t wide and well investigatc now to the spiritual. These are they who sip epicurean relish the pure tism. To quarrel with this icurism, or abuse those would be a proof of indisc we shall not be the first to sire is not to destroy, nor ev the species, but simply to F. assigned in the scientific m man nature, with the prop~ descriptions. Far trom despising oraL ally to contemn this speci rism, may we not rather ad the more exalted recreatio. tions of the soul, to be soi. ous in its own felicities. intolerable fault, but no m~ own looking-glass. Ther ment, experience, and pIes vanity, and if the heart re 1847j Emersons Poems. taint from it, why should we too hitterly despise it! Let us say the same of this metaphysical or mystical egotism, that in the young and enthusiastic it is at worst an epicurism, indulged like tlandyism, for a year and a day, and thrown by with the accession of seriousness. Or, to he more liberal, if our neighbor fancies a fine horse or a hit of dress, frequents the opera or the camp-meeting, why quarrel with these harmless excitements? He will repent of them, if I let him alone; if I persecute, he will seriously adopt them. We mean not, therefore, to persecute this species of epicurism, or to pelt it with the common-places of morality; nay, our intention is the reverse, namely, to show it up, and give it all praise possible. ft is innocent ;it does not appear before the world, ,Aad in logic or the facts of the past; it is unscientific; it is not satirical, bitter, devilish, or cu- riously insinuating and ingenious ;it comes with no dangerous array of max- ims or precedents, the authority of the States, the church, or the worthies ; it hurts no man, is able to hurt none he were a brute that would abuse it. Its defiances are even like the threatenings of two men seated upon opposite moun- tain-summits, a breath, and nothing more. It asks only to be let alone; it triumphs in solitude; it is in love with itself; but to others, discovers neither hatred nor love. Its maxims are passive, though it seems even to set all at (lefiance. It lies in wait for the king- dora of heaven; and what others get by strife, it will have by a strategem of pride. To him who waits long enough, all things come in their turn ; but above all things, this epicurism forbids tu- mult, and angling for bliss in troubled waters- Seek not the spirit of it hide, Inexorable to thy zeal; Baby, do not whine and chide, Art thou not also real? Here the mord changes suddenly, and the oat proceeds thus: Why shouldst thou stoop to poor excuse? Turn on the accuser roundly; say, Here am I, here will I remain For ever to myself sooth fast Go thou, sweet Heaven, or at thy pleasure stay! Already Heaven with thee its lot has cast, For only it can absolutely deal.~ Which seems to be treati~ very nearly like a jilt, who fol when least desired ; and cont~ saying of Christ, knock and opened unto you, and oth school of Christian humilit Heaven accuses us, you are to it with a quiet scorn of excuv dare you have no need of it; u Heaven will immediately coo be your friend. Now let the I out, if they please, God deliv such a heaven !they can ne stand this matter, they are th of humility, hut now we are c of spiritual epicurism, which different matter. Here, then, we have it, in I entitled Bacchus, an imital Persian mystic, Hafiz. Bring me wine, but wine w~ grew, In the belly of the grape, * * Wine which music is, Music and wine are one, That I, drinking this, Shall hear far Chaos talk witi Kings unbron shall walk with And the pour grass shall plot What it will do when it is ma~ Quickened so, will I unlock Bvery crypt of every rock. And in this poem, headed, THE DAYS RATION: When I was. From all the seas of strength fat chalice, Saying, This be thy portion, ch chalice, Less than a lily, thou shalt daily From my great artenies,nor more,~ All substances the cunning chemi Melts down into that liquor of m Friends, foes, joys, fortunes, be disgust. He then complains, that this 1 life-love, which is also the. win~ spirit, and the musics quoted but too easily exhausted by an~ ment: If a new muse draw me with ray, And I uplift myself into its heav~ The needs of the first sight ab: blood, And all the following hours of the Drag a ridiculous age, & c. 204 Emersons Poems. Then follows an argument for regard- lug this one sip from the epicurean cha- lice, as sufficient Why.need I volumes, if one wordlsuffice? Why need I galleries, when a pupils draught, After the masters sketch, fills and oerfills My apprehension? why seek Italy, Who cannot circumnavigate the sea Of thoughts and things at home, but still adjourn The nearest matter for a thousand days. This admirable description of the spir- itual epicure, shall suffice us for an in- stance. He hegins with an estimate of the quantity of the spiritual liquor given for each day. If he drinks it all at once, he has bibbed his cup, and all is over for that twenty-four hours. But he cannot pip it and have ita terrible (lilemma! Observe,first, the end of all existence is taken to he a certain private tipple or morning dram at this little cup of liqueur. The whole theory and art of life is then, how to eke out the allowance. A more perfect -exposition of the matter could hardly he conceived. The epicure counts his income, so much for the year, month, day ;if he lays out the whole in one day, he can taste no more, unhappy wretch! That the end of life is happiness, all men seem to he agreed; but we have few who philosophize in this fashion; few who so skillfully and deliberately defend epicurism; who so leave out of the account all the common considera- tions, or sit down upon their spiritual income with a more Apician resolution to spend it in the most delectable style. The world is wide, and there is room in it for all philosophies, systems, creeds, and epicurisms; and on a more liberal view of the matter, we have our doubts whether it is not best that there should be a great variety; surely tis all for the best. Whatever is for the best is good: therefore this new epicurism is good. It must be so, we are convinced. Evoe! Bacchus ! bring us the (.up; come, we will drink deep; we will do what the god instigateslaugh, fleere, floutor applaud and wonder; it is all right: good: all one;why not? Jam aman as well as you, sir; come, sir, put up your sour looks. What! I put up my sour looks! I am a free man, sir, and will be as sour as I please. I concede it, friend; be sour, in Heavens name! No, neighbor, you shall not concede any thing; I despise your conceF & c. & c. Nevertheless, we like the ~! leaves one at liberty. For ex have the glorious privilege, a to gainsay it, of running over volume of poems, and pronol very idle collection of verses; unpoetical, conceited little vo row in sentiment, and fulsom teaching doctrines of rank pr might cry it up, admire its be drowned in its depths; an course the doctrines of the a sustain us, so perfectly libera But this is nothing to the poin We regret our want of rc before the reader a kind of medulla of the philosophy of from this collection of his poe one of them expresses a sent liar to himself; the key-not self-(respect.) The god of th self-respect, and this is hi~ rules, or rhythmical creed. I to have no creed; his rule, rule; his law, to have no la~ and old, he would have us oh inscribed upon our hearts nature, and that law is lm~ pulse. But, as we have said, forbid a full exposition. At us pass over the substance, ho vated and instructive, and pleasure may be found in thea Our poet is, we believe f modern time who has imitate ner of Donne, Cowley, Clev their contemporaries. Images it has been said, are either ti illustrate, or to debase and subject of the comparison. ~1 ordinary opinion concerning imagery. But no critic that ever read, has let us complete secret of imagery, or the rea use. Poetry that is merelywi torical, may give delight by as by comparing a hero to a Ii tering tool to a magpie, a clod, & c. It is the art rhetor assists the fancy by compa these lines of Tasso, As from a furnace flew the a skies, Such smoke as that when d~m burnt, we have a splendid instance rhetorical simile or comparis first line, and a figure of a diff. 1S47.] Emersons Poems. (which we shall, for present convenience, of nature; to make stones an name the complex rhetorical) in the and feel with us, and persuad. second. The first, or simple rhetorical, all-pervading humanity, exist~ merely enables us to imagine a thing brutes and vegetables; we sV which no man ever saw or can see, easy in every instance, wheth the wall of smoke and fire about the or modern, to detect the true enchanted grove of Ismeno; hut the distinguish him from the second, or complex rhetorical, adds emi rhymer. By this test the grea nent power to the first, by infusing a English literature, concerning living and human interest into this phe of Pope and his school, and nomenon of smoke it was such a dispute among Italian savans, smoke as that which rose from Sodom. Galileo took part, concerning This is said in the true spirit of oratory, of Tasso, is finally put at re~ or of the grandest rhetoric. It exalts the out diminishing the glory of o subject. wit and master of rhetoric, Let us now seek an example of the amiable and chivalrous Tass rhetorical comparison intended to debase yet compelled to assign them or vilify the subject. This from the themselves, among the most Dunciad is most convenient and admirable, not among poetical of versifiers. At the same time, it will be to admit that all the great poets great rhetoricians, and most great wits; and that they alw mixture of rhetorical imagery which vivifies. But in Popes find few of these (if I may so. life-giving forms of speech. they are certainly much more than in Pope; at least, they Fairfaxs admirable translatio the great controversy which this topic in Galileos time w decided by Fairfaxs version, Which does most perfectly debase and inclined to believe that Tasso vilify the subject, but in a rhetorical admitted as holding only a manner merely, and not in a poetical.. rank among the great poets. To give now a perfect example of To illustrate this coatrovei poetical imageryof which the oh- perfectly, let us examine anot~ ject is not either to illustrate, to ex- of Shakspeare, who stands first alt, or to vilify and debase, but only beyond all question) on the to delight and satisfy, in a profound and side, when judged by the test peculiar manner take these lines of just offered Shakspeare 0 hateful, vaporous, and foggy From you I have been absent in the Since thou art guilty of my curel. spring, Muster thy mists to meet the east When proud pied April dressd in all Make war against proportioned his trim, Had put a spirit of youth in every thing, time. And heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him. The excellence here lies not, we think, merely in a certain subtle har- mony of metres, but in the nature of the imagery. The lines are pregnant with life. Assun~ing, without fear of contra- diction, that the great end of the art poetical, as distinguished from the art rhetorical, is to infuse life and sentiment in the dead matter and gross organisms voL. vi.xo. i. 14 Into this imaginary night, the a wonderfully bold figure, has all the worst qualities of huma single effort: cruelty, dullness,~ of mind, evil intent, obduracy positive unrepentant guilt; anti of a commander, actual war ac the symbols of virtue; to crox~ becomes the personal enemy oi spirit, the accessory of a base. Under this torrent of vivifyin; sion, the judgment cannot hold So take the hindmost, h-il! he said, and ran, Swift as a barb the bailiff leaves behind, He left huge Lintot, and outstripped the wind, A swhen a dabchick waddles through the copse, On feet and wings, and flies, and wades, and hops, So labouring on, with shoulders, hands, and head, Wide as a wind-mill all his figure spread, With arms expanded, Bernard rows his state, & c. & c. 206 instant; imagination (or rather, that function of the soul by which persons are conceived) is compelled to conceive aad adopt the dreadful deitythe mistress of hell, and feel her l)ersonal reality. The poet has invented the goddess, has shaped her with a few touches of his creative hand; she waits only an altar and a worship; and in another age, when poets were law-givers, she had one. Or, take these three lines of a sonnet by the same hand No longer mourn for me, when I am dead, Than you shall hear the surly, sullen bell, Give warning to the world that I am fled. ing this distinction between and poetical imagery. Thc passages of the great poets mixture of both kinds; hut t predominates. On the other tory demands an absolute e~ the poetical kind, or, to speal a very sparing use of genui imagery. Our author, whom we reti a peculiar satisfaction, furnis ful examples of an imagery ther illustrates, exalts, nor ir vilifies. Thus in the followi And universal nature, thron And crowded whole, an infinit Repeats one note !(p. 220.) The hell receives a human character, Nature, a mere abstraction, of hardness, dutitulness, and a public by making her like a part ol function; the soul is astonished with wit, a parroquet, and the Si- this beautiful art, which places even perpetual echo of her laws, dead forms, and hard, heartless things in symbolized in the monotooc an amiable or unamiable relation with poll, poll, poll, pretty p01 itself; and to be persuaded that this is what ?a ~)arroquet This natural and delightful, we need only re- error; it should be liarrot, nc member our childhood, and the animosi- But, as we have often rema ties and loves which we delighted to great poets are the masters exercise toward inanimate objects. But and if they choose to call in poetry it is more than mere animation, owl, or a parrot a parroquet it is moral sympathy that is thus im- in silence; and even were parted. Thus, when Lear appeals to to carp, the splendor ar the gods beauty of the image sho You see me here, ye gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age, wretched in both! If it be you that stir these daughters heart, & c. & c. We are not offended, and we can under- stand that Lear is addressing personifica- tions of the divine attributes of justice, mercy and power; and it is this poetic faculty which gives them the rights of persons over us, and compels us to ad- dress them. Again, in those dreadful lines which begin Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! Ye cataracts ! us. Here, too, is another, m ble and more illustrative(- are the subject. Of these th that with them -He doth eat and drink, a shoot,(p. 157.) Which, if it he very bad ye theless very fine imagery. observe this of our author, puts us off with a particula it is sure to be supported L rare and curious in image never cheats his reader. 1 Cupid proceeds in the follox He (with his eyes) ~ drink, and fish and shoot which sportsmen will object and drinking should come: ing and shooting. The imagination of the mad and an-, guished soul, cut off from all sympathy with things living, pours out its grief in talk with imagined creatures, with which it stands in natural sympathy. We have said enough and instanced oiaough to explain our meaning, in mak- And th is he does And write, and reason, ~ And ride and run, and ha And return, and flatter, an And kiss, and couple, and Emersons Poems. I 847.3 Erneraons Poems. With those unfathomable orbs, hight mystically his eyes. Observe the singular beauty and vivification of the imagery. Of this Cupid, one may say, he has it all in his eye, as the Hindoo god Chrishna had the world in his mouth. The eye of Uriel was a wonderful eye, but Cupids is still more wonderful. This species of poetry we find at once instructive and full of pleasure; it teaches one the vast difference between the mere mystical comparing of all the universe to a three-legged stool, and that true poetry which throws the life of humanity into the meanest things. The last three actions ascribed to the eye of Cupid, surpass anything we have ever met with for delicacy and power of conception; what a certain Roman emperor is said to have attempted, Cupid here appears ac- tually accomplishing. But this is nothing to what follows. Of these same eyes it is said Undaunted are their courages, Right Cossacks in their forages ; A language, be it observed, which out- Chaucers Chaucer, and is more Saxon than the very Saxon itself. Fleeter they than any creature, They are his steeds, and not his feature ; Where the strength of the image is so intense, it obliges the poet to snap the comparison in two, and finally to deny that they are his eyes, after all: Inquisitive and fierce and fasting,. Restless, predatory, hasting, & c. He lives in his eyes, A new species of verse There doth digest, and work and spin, And buy and sell, and lose and win, & c. In short, does everything in his eyes. They are, in fact, his all in all; and yet the prettiest part is to come ; Cupid is a casuist, A mystic and cabalist and, He is headstrong and alone. Aloneness, is one of his qualities: He affects the wood and wild, Like a flower-hunting child; Buries himself in summer waves, In trees, with beasts, in mines andeaves; Loves nature like a horned cow, Bird or deer, or caribou. Here are some importar the history of Cupid, a romantic instincts of the I (is not that a mistake for h does the horned love nature the hornless?) and of the carl is a species of reindeer, say son, the naturalist. The ~ generous with us: he doesn one species of deer, bird, caribou ; as if one should sa) quadruped, or dog,first, i the whole kind, bird or deer adds one species for earnest: or caribou ; for which the reader is doub obliged; as also for the othe vors and condescensions in g more mysterious poet than hath not arisen in this age. fain to place him at the h class, if class he have, before tellect all divisions and shrink up, are resolved into th condition. If we have in any thrown light for the reader o termous works, be it in a - light capacity, then is our so We climb not to his altitudes. But it is necessary to conci poet himself reminds us of ow But, critic, spare thy var Nor show thy pompous ~ To vex with odious subtlety The cheerer of mens herr To which we reply, again o crown, that we cannot allow Q ty of a poet, however delicate ical, to stand in the way of hi honors. Words are things. I the force of laws. Literatur guard of the commonwealth. and affectation in language am phy, lead by but one step to of manner and morals. Next tz pression of an untruth, is the e~ of a truth in an affected and im style. The mass of men are; and readily adopt a bad fashion defence has the world of lettc but to sieze upon the first brig ple, and set it plainly before th men. We have done so with book of poems. We wish to preciated. 1847.] Emersons Poems. With those unfathomable orbs, light mystically his eyes. Observe the singular beauty and vivification of the imagery. Of this Cupid, one may say, he has it all in his eye, as the Hindoo god Chrishna had the world in his mouth. The eye of Uriel was a wonderful eye, but Cupids is still more wonderful. This species of poetry we find at once instructive and full of pleasure; it teaches one the vast difference between the mere mystical comparing of all the universe to a three.legged stool, and that true poetry which throws the life of humanity into the meanest things. The last three actions ascribed to the eye of Cupid, surpass anything we have ever met with for delicacy and power of conception; what a certain Roman emperor is said to have attempted, Cupid here appears ac- tually accomplishing. But this is nothing to what follows. Of these same eyes it is said Undaunted are their courages, Right Cossacks in their forages ; A langange, be it observed, which out- Chaucers Chaucer, and is more Saxon than the very Saxon itself. Fleeter they than any creature, They are his steeds, arid not his feature ; Where the strength of the image is so intense, it obliges the poet to snap the comparison in two, and finally to deny that they are his eyes, after all: Inquisitive and fierce and fasting, 1S~ Restless, predatory, hasting, & c. He lives in his eyes, A new species of verse There doth digest, and work and spin, And buy and sell, and lose and win, & c. Jn short, does everything in his eyes. They are, in fact, his all in all; and yet the prettiest part is to come ; dupid is a casuist, A mystic and cabalist and, He is headstrong and alone. Aloneness, is one of his qualities: He affects the wood and wild, Like a flower-hunting child; Buries himself in summer waves, In trees, with beasts, in mines andcaves; Loves nature like a horned cow, Bird or deer, or caribou. Here are some importan. the history of Cupid, ar romantic instincts of the h (is not that a mistake for hc does the horned love nature the hornless ?) and of the cari~ is a species of reindeer, say. son, the naturalist. The p. generous with Us: he doesnt one species of deer, bird, caribou ; as if one should say quadruped, or dog,first, h the whole kind, bird or deer, adds one species for earnest: or caribou ; for which the reader is doubi obliged; as also for the other vors and condescensions in g. more mysterious poet than ii bath not arisen in this age. fain to place him at the h- class, if class he have, before tellect all divisions and d shrink up, are resolved into th. condition. If we have in any thrown light for the reader o terious works, he it in a n light capacity, then is our so I,4Te climb not to his altitudes. But it is necessary to concl poet himself reminds us of our But, critic,~spare thy van Nor show thy pompous p To vex with odious subtlety The cheerer of mens hea To which we reply, again o crown, that we cannot allow - ty of a poet, however delicate ical, to stand in the way of hi honors. Words are things. I. the force of laws. Literatur- guard of the commonwealth. T and affectation in language an phy, lead by but one step to of manner and morals. Next t pression of an untruth, is the e~ of a truth in an affected and im style. The mass of men are and readily adopt a bad fashion defence has the world of lettc but to sieze upon the first brie ple, and set it plainly before th men. We have done so with book of poems. We wish to preciated.

Fresh Gleanings: A Volume by the Author of "Notes by the Road" 208-217

1847.] Emersons Poems. With those unfathomable orbs, light mystically his eyes. Observe the singular beauty and vivification of the imagery. Of this Cupid, one may say, he has it all in his eye, as the Hindoo god Chrishna had the world in his mouth. The eye of Uriel was a wonderful eye, but Cupids is still more wonderful. This species of poetry we find at once instructive and full of pleasure; it teaches one the vast difference between the mere mystical comparing of all the universe to a three.legged stool, and that true poetry which throws the life of humanity into the meanest things. The last three actions ascribed to the eye of Cupid, surpass anything we have ever met with for delicacy and power of conception; what a certain Roman emperor is said to have attempted, Cupid here appears ac- tually accomplishing. But this is nothing to what follows. Of these same eyes it is said Undaunted are their courages, Right Cossacks in their forages ; A langange, be it observed, which out- Chaucers Chaucer, and is more Saxon than the very Saxon itself. Fleeter they than any creature, They are his steeds, arid not his feature ; Where the strength of the image is so intense, it obliges the poet to snap the comparison in two, and finally to deny that they are his eyes, after all: Inquisitive and fierce and fasting, 1S~ Restless, predatory, hasting, & c. He lives in his eyes, A new species of verse There doth digest, and work and spin, And buy and sell, and lose and win, & c. Jn short, does everything in his eyes. They are, in fact, his all in all; and yet the prettiest part is to come ; dupid is a casuist, A mystic and cabalist and, He is headstrong and alone. Aloneness, is one of his qualities: He affects the wood and wild, Like a flower-hunting child; Buries himself in summer waves, In trees, with beasts, in mines andcaves; Loves nature like a horned cow, Bird or deer, or caribou. Here are some importan. the history of Cupid, ar romantic instincts of the h (is not that a mistake for hc does the horned love nature the hornless ?) and of the cari~ is a species of reindeer, say. son, the naturalist. The p. generous with Us: he doesnt one species of deer, bird, caribou ; as if one should say quadruped, or dog,first, h the whole kind, bird or deer, adds one species for earnest: or caribou ; for which the reader is doubi obliged; as also for the other vors and condescensions in g. more mysterious poet than ii bath not arisen in this age. fain to place him at the h- class, if class he have, before tellect all divisions and d shrink up, are resolved into th. condition. If we have in any thrown light for the reader o terious works, he it in a n light capacity, then is our so I,4Te climb not to his altitudes. But it is necessary to concl poet himself reminds us of our But, critic,~spare thy van Nor show thy pompous p To vex with odious subtlety The cheerer of mens hea To which we reply, again o crown, that we cannot allow - ty of a poet, however delicate ical, to stand in the way of hi honors. Words are things. I. the force of laws. Literatur- guard of the commonwealth. T and affectation in language an phy, lead by but one step to of manner and morals. Next t pression of an untruth, is the e~ of a truth in an affected and im style. The mass of men are and readily adopt a bad fashion defence has the world of lettc but to sieze upon the first brie ple, and set it plainly before th men. We have done so with book of poems. We wish to preciated. 1847] A Volume by the Author of Notes by the Road. affected emblem of the authors modest gleanings, which he has gathered wanderingly, at random, and hound them up uniler the shadow of a tree, with an air of indolent nicety. We like, too, the dividing of his briefly-noticed topics, by neither chapter or figure, hut plain cap. tions and a large plain initiala style of the last century, unassuming and beauti- ful enough to be brought back again for books of a certain kind. Briefly, the getting up of the volume, has an appear- ance of simple elegance beyond any oth- er of the season. As to the contentsthose who have read the four or five desultory chapters of sketchings,as that on the English Taverns, and How one lives in Paris, which have appeared in the Review, during the last year, under the title of Notes by the road, will know what to expect in our notice of a volume by the same authorthough to them, most of all, the book will seem in little need of commendation. it will be sufficient to them, that Caius, and Mr. 1k. Marvel, are the same pleasant minded traveller; and that Fresh Gleanings are but a new series, more full and fin- ished, of ~Notes by the Road. To those who may not have read in our journal, the chapters adverted to, our present re- marks, approbatory or otherwise, will be borne out by a few extracts. It is an excellent thing to travel. It is still better to know how. One does not travel by having funds to achieve any conceivable amount of locomotion. Nor by abiding at will among notable scenes. Nor by enjoying to the full, the luxuries of many countries. The seeing eye 15 needed, without which, sight see- ing is of little account. All the five senses are in requisition. And at the bottom of all, must be a spirit of curios- ity, that grows by what it feeds upon, a quick and subtle habit of observa. tion, and a varied appreciation, that miss- es the form and quality of nothing worth apprehending. Poeta ncsciturbut one is born equally to the qualities of a good traveller. And withal, before setting out, he should be already of a travelled spirit of a mind that is familiar, by reading and thought, with the countries he is going to visit. But such we conceive to be our itinerantborn to be a trav- eller. There have been profounder tourists than Mr. Marvel. He is not a states- man incog.-.--nor a lawyer, intimate with the bones of dead constitui professor of physical science chiefly, with deceased nature ily or spiritual physician, d narrownor a political econ is your dryest species of p nor a social reformer, whi proving itself the most usele.. he is no one example emin De Tocqueville and Humbo great extremes, to our thinki notable classes of travellers. Yet our friend Marvel he ties worth enumerating. He gin, the first fine essential; k ly a gentleman. This puts into easy communication witi for there is no so commo simple and entire confidene we feel that such a one mus both acceptable and accepte tion giving him the most fa portunities for observation. seem, indeed, a little fastidi( tiring-he cannot consider th. his oyster, to be opened at him without the oysters pert has, therefore, in his jottir more of what he has seen, if he has found outhe is mm than inquiringthe revere American travellers. But, finished English tourist, he more dogmatical and self-sath portion to the less he has obe Mr. Marvels talent, in fact vestigation, but a faculty things, and making picturr He does not ploddingly pul same set series of descriptic garnished with statistics, that noted a hundred times before quiet, quick-sighted looker-on sents you with scenes and sc incidents that befall himtli pearances of men and women; villages, and the changing naturecostume, moveme ners, unique conventionalities things, in short, that strike strangely, on first sightwis just these first odd impressic are always the most vivid r esque. It is thus, that his liti tionstouched off, it would sec ly, but really with elahoratic constant series of minute pictu are apparently slight, but they in the mind as certainlythc different a styleas the bri nings of Eothenfor they 210 Fresh Gleanings: the reader just those impressions which for a first presentation was tc the first sight of the things described in inexhaustible Paris, the Fr would give him. The hook might, it try and provincial cities, the I is true, be improved by something more a piece of Germany, the Rhinc of the matter-of-fact mingled inocca- with a gal lop through soul sional passages of greater breadth on so- rria,the ancient regions ciety and government, the morals, man- Carynthia, and Styria. ners, economic resources, and political Mr. Marvel seems to ha~ state and prospects, of the places he ~vaa- sweet beauty of English rui- ders through. Some of these he has, and with reluctance. But, n at some lengthas the chapter on the when you know the government of Paris, another on the reli- and ill health is worse behi gion of Pariswith others of so much than your devil. aptness and interest, that we could wish for more of them. For one effect, which My physician said I must we think Mr Marvel has not sufficient- land; so I put ten sovereigns in ly considered, they would serve, from and set off southward, through contrast, to heighten that charm of light- county of Devonshire. ness, and grace of style, and picturesque To-morrow, thought topics, which are so delightful in Fresh was the last stage between Gleanings, but which need to be re- Torquay, and had groWn so lieved, like anything graceful and light, could see no longer the prel by portions of a different character. His along the way,to-morrow, an however, has been to avoid the strange faces and strange dres~ object, ten to a strange language; for common-place items of laborious itin- morning, I hoped to rub my ey erants before him. And he has succeed- the southern atmosphere of o edfof there has never been a hook little Norman isles, which lie o of travels in the style of this new west coast of France. sheaf- On reading this volume through, we find no reason to change our opinion, But our travellerover ea~ as expressed beforehand in a note at sensitive nerveswas gettin the head of a capital chapter on a por- fast. The stage coach ager tion of the Dutch country, from the idea of course to profit, but Elbe to the Zuyder Zee, published in our pleasant jest, had booked him December number, for last year. For a Jersey steamer from Torquay narrative, we said, of pleasant, mi- si.ich steamer had run from nute observations, written in a graqeful, the-way place, for three moni subdued style, slightly quaint, making has the opportunity of gi~ the reader an easy-minded companion of sweet glimpse of old Torq the rambling travellera style quite new five-and-twenty years ago under the prevailing taste for rapid and humble a little fishing-plac. vigorous writingwe venture to bespeak, Harry of Richmond landed we might say, predict, beforehand, a with his army; but it came P most favorable reception. The writers some way or otherthat quick-eyed observations have covered the British coasts were the many parts of Europe: the green lanes, so soft and warm; and, jore~ and by-ways, and busy thoroughfares of forth little cOttages and vill~ Englandthe sqlitary heaths and hills shelf of the hills, and the of Scotlandthe life led in London and one could buy only a stou Paristhe quaint and simple forms of mans ale, will now make y things in France and Dutch-landthe long as the bills at Bath. ever-great scenery of the Alpsthe With a touching little picti scenes and associations, never yet ex- girl, whose face comes to t hausted, of remembered Italy. With oftener than it ought, and a such things to talk about, and a certain scription of the small way of telling his story, we do not see bridge, where he spent a why his should not be a proper book. that quiet, green English sce And such the public will judge it. seems to have delighted him Though the present volume has hut a that of any other countryh small glimpse of England,and nothing of tice again of the goblin of Ill Switzerland or Italysufficient of course betakes himself to Plymouth. 1S47.] A Volume by the Author of Notes by ike Road. It was a wretched, rainy night, yet our invalid, with the muddle-headed Plymouth landlord, went down through the quaint old streets, to find a skipper friend of the latters, who was going on the morrow to Jersey. It was a little black, one-masted ves- sel we found, rocking just under the lee of the pier, and we had shouted a half dozen times before a stumpy figure put its head out of the forecastle, and told us the Zebra would sail at morning tide next day. I promised to send my luggage to the Dragon, and the host of the Dragon said it would be all right. I splashed home again, and dreamed all night of doublets, and striped hose, and Round-heads, and basket hilts, and Old Noll, and Pym, and Plymouth Rockand now and then, like a gleam of light breaking through the dreams, came a pleasant vision of sweet Alice Lee. The tide came in, and the tide went out, and the sun got up to its highest; still the Zebra lay just off the pier; and every time I met the captain, who was a dapper little Islander, he would half embrace me in a perfect transport of excuses. I think I must have borne it very meekly, or his confidence in my forbear. ance would not have remained so un- shaken; for he had repeated this manceu- vre I know not how many times, before we were fairly ready to set off. I had even taken a steak in the back parlor of the Dragon, and had gone up the heights above the town, to see throu~,h a glass the waves dashing over the top of Eddystone, nine miles down the bay: and the sun had gone down at the first clink of the wind- lass, and the light was blazing on the end of Breakwater, when we rounded it, and dropped down into the Sound. The account of his run across the Channel, is much more amusing than the experience seems to have been. What with forty fat sheep, a butcher, a Ply. mouth shoe maker, wife and nine chil- drenthe number of John Rogersa stone-cutter and his young bride, the drunken captain, the mate with one hand, one sailor, and Pierre, that spoke bad English and attempted the cooking in a little forty-ton vessel, cutter rigged driving through a dark storm, on the English Channel, where the short seas chop straight up and down, with the most sickening kind of motionthey must have had a deuce of a time of it The description, however, is capital. And at last there was a blue lift in the hon. zon. An hour, and they made Guern. sey, androunded it; then th of St. Johns and of Grosnez the tall belfry of St. Owen among the troubled waves, length of the fearful Corhiere ed La Moye, and ran under lb St. Brelades, and frightfuli Fret; and dashed round Nob eraway through the broad Aubinsunder the scowling castlestraight between the of the dock of St. Hiliers. My heart warms, says i~ with a loving recollection, to the pleasant little city of picturesquely strewed along C St. Auhins bay, with grim and Regent scowling over it from its houses lighted up by s streets smooth and clean to a of which I knew, and all the shops and alleys, as well as I green, broad valley that stretcV window to-day. Morning aftc in pleasant winter time, have through the streets of the islan and active,and along the qi lie vessels from Rio, and the Newfoundland; and by the prc that sit upon the hills, above and out upon the long reach that connects Castle Elizabet: shore. there, they say, upon isle, an old hermit had his ho laid myself down in the bed where they say that the herm the wild Normans, as early as Charles the Simple, killed the rite, and now nothing is left c his hole in the rock and his na name was St. Hilier. Pleasant memories hover a~ castle, for Walter Raleigh w Governor, and had a snug room floor, withI dare saymany of sack on the floor below. wrote a part of his history in so ner of the battlemented buildir days of its glory are gone; and quarters of Charles the Second the old walls shake with jollit come a guard-room for half a fellows in gray coats and brc keep up a clatter with pipes, tumblers of weak wine. Ag sad furrows in its face, and from the prim-looking Fort R the hill, would hatter it down It is very strange how this ple, living as it were within coast of France, and speaking ~: language, and living under N toms, should yet be the sturdic and the most consummate hater 212 Fresh Gleanings: rule, anywhere to be found in the domin- ions of her Britannic majesty. Time and time again, the French have struggled to possess the islandtwice have had armies upon it, but always have been driven back into the sea. Now, little Martello towers line the whole shores, springing from the rocks just off the land; and throughout the reign of Napoleon, a red light might have been seen in them all at nightfor in each, two artillerymen boiled their pot for a week together, Our travellers notice of the Isle of Jersey, is at no great length; but it makes us feel thoroughly what many longer descriptions have failed to do, the delightful solitude, and antique green repose, of that quaint old island. Two or three dim legends, dreamily narrated with an air half credulousa few glimp- ses of the quiet verdure and smooth winding roads, which cover the whole islanda brief loving mention of the old structures, some of them ruinous, re- maining from former centurieswith a description of the little cottage and the simple neighbors around, where he spent three months as a musing invalidand we have the whole in our minds eye. Of some pages, take a passage or two: How quietly and completely do they fill our fancyalmost, as it seems, our me- moryas if we ourselves had been there! There remains upon the island the old Seigneuries; nowhere else will ~you hear of the Lords of the Manor. The old feudal privileges have, it is true, mostly gone by: still, enough remain to give their holders rank and name; and the gems of the isl- and are the old manor-houses. Buried in trees, they are of quaint architecture, and you look up through long avenues upon their peaked gables and brown faces, half covered with ivy. There is the manor- house of Rozel,a miniature castle, with a miniature park about it, on which the deer are trooping: anrl from its windows you look over St. Catharines bay, and Archi- rondel towerrising tall and weather- beaten out of the edge of the sea. There ]5 the Sei0neury of Trinitya great, so- berly mansion, whose walls the thick evergreens have made damp-looking and mossy, but within it is ever cheerful as summer. Nor are the Seigneuries all; for the whole island is one great suburbNow we have a huge stone wall at our left, coming up to the very track of the car- riage wheels,if track there could be upon the delightful smooth roads: a little moss hangs in its crevices; th mouldy thatch appears over one enter by a high archway, over two hearts united, graven in and a date a century or two old way opens upon the cheerful, of a farmery. * * * Just by the farmery, lookir hedge, you can see a dozen of t~ cows of Jersey feeding in the or they will lift their heads, and mild eyes upon you with a lc half human. All thewhile the on either side roll up in ro mounds. The narrow space hard and smooth, and so windi view is always changing; and if for a moment at the top of the gi where the hedee is thin, you w a carpet of greenness as will heart glad in winter; and beyor toppling out of the treesa coi so many roofs and angles, and w chimneys, as would make the painter ;still beyond, like the of a mole, follow those same rows, winding down to the sea, not so far away, but that you c glisten of the water-drops and I of the waves. There is picturesqueness kind upon the island ;deep va by St. Marys toward the West pushing boldly into them, wit; forests on their foreheads; an tops of some of them are stand layso they call themtall up~ of the times of Druid worship. There is the remnant upo cape of Grosnez,a patch ot about which more old wives st than ivy-berries upon the wall. There is tall Mont Orgueil, castle topping itjust in that cay, that one loves to wander d its stairways ;for the wooden are not yet mouldered, and you oaken floors that shake and climb tottering stair-cases in an wall, and, lo! at the landing have fallen, and you look do depth from chamber to dungeon in an embrasure of the wine great hall of the castle, as th down; and the red light reflectc waters, that rush thither and the beach, checkers the hea arches. Stamp upon the floor, and tremble, and the echo rings ;a slams below, and the crash c lowing into the hall ;a little above, and the ruin seems to sh flies in at the door, and flies ( window. As the twilight den gray turns to black in the cor 1847.3 A Volume by the Author of Notes by the Road. hail, wild goblin dreams crowd over you; there is a laugh, faint and low (for it comes from the boys of Gorey)it is an imp in the shadow. Now it comes louder hurrah it is Prince Rupert and Charley at their cups. What a leer in the look of the prince, what a devil in his eye! A low shout again Vive le Roi! vive le Roi! How the glasses jingle! A hat flies in, and a hat flies out.A laugh, low and rneaningHist! there is a maid in the corner, and she looksentreaty. Beautiful ;we only object, conscien- tiously, to the word soberly, as used in the end of the second passage, for there is no such adjective in the lan- guage ;also to glisten in the last lines of the third, there being no such noun. us it a printers error for gliste? ?a proper word, but nearly obsolete. This, we may add, is a species of carelessness with which the author is chargeable in. several places. Mr. Marvel went down to the lee-side of the vessel, and his eyes rested on a chalky line of shore that rose out of the water, four or five leagues awayeast- .ward. He knew it must he France. As is the case with every traveller, all his preconceived notions were upset. lie had dreamed the night before of all the quaint and splendid things which history and our imagination have be- stowed upon la belle France; but in the morning, as he looked eastward, there was nothing of it at all ;nothing but a low line of chalky shore, against which the green waves went splashing, in the same careless way in which they go splashing over our shores at home. It seemed very odd to me, he con- tinues, that the land should be indeed France: hut it was ;and the dirty lit- tle steamer Southampton was puffing nearer and nearer to it every moment. And here follows so pleasant a bit of characterization that we cannot help ex- tracting it. A Norfolk country gentleman stood beside me, who, like myself, was visiting France for the first time; and there was that upon his countenance which told, as plainly as words could tell it, that the same thoughts were passing through his mind as were passin~ through mine. So we stood looking over the lee-rail together, scarce for a moment turning our eyes from the line of shore. Presently we could see white buildings dotted here and there. Very odd-looking houses, said the Nor- folk country gentleman, laying glass. Very odd, said I, only however, to assent to the En idea of oddity, who counts e odd that differs from what he hat to see within the limits of his It is quite beyond the compreb: great many English country how any people in the world tastes differing from their own; ever this difference exists, in 5- or great, they think it exceedin I remember standing with s on the Place before St. Peters, of the Illumination. The le: lights had been burning an frieze, and dome, and all,s church appeared as if it had bc with molten silver, upon a dark ing curtain: and when the clock signal for the change, and th light flamed up around the crot ball,and along every belt of th and blazed between the columns. like magic over the top of the and shot up its crackling tonguc. around the whole sweep of the and in every door-way~making of the thirty thousand lookers-or as if it was day, all upon the Pon my soul, sir, said the so me, this is devlish odd! Devilish odd thought I, was not in the humor to say it. But to return to the French The houses we saw were of ph walls, and roofed with tiles. not the rural attractiveness ot cottagesno French cotta~,es they were very plainly substa viceable affairs. Presently we cc out the forms of people moving Very odd-looking persons t~ the Norfolk country gentleman through his glass. Very odd, said I, looking in for I like to keep in humor with cent fancies of a fellow-traveller. the men of Norfolk did not VV blue blouses as we saw: but this, I could not observe any gre ence between the French coast people I had seen in other pa~ world. A little after we made the 1 rounded the jetty, and saw ~ people, among whom we disti port-officers and soldiers. Extraordinary looking fello. the Norfolk country gentlemaa. Very, said I, half seriously soldiers wore frock-coats and breeches, and most uncouth barrc hats, and little dirty mustaches, a swaggering careless air, totall. 214 .~{resh Gleanings: the trim, soldier-like appearance of Eng- lish troops. In a few moments we ran up the dock, and caught glimpses of narrow strange old streets; and two of the gen darnzerie came up, arm in arm, and tipped their big chapeaux, and asked for our passports. How very absurd, said the Norfolk country gentleman, as he handed out his passport. Very, said I, as I gave up mine. The quays were crowded with porters and hotel men, quarreling for our luggage, and here we first heard French talked at home. It strikes me its a very odd language, said the Norfolk country gentleman. Very, said Iand we stepped ashore in Prance. Our friend, Marvel, and his oddity, the Norfolk gentleman, found them- selves upon the same steamer that went fizzing up the Seine. The travel- ler has the eye of a painter for everything on either shore, gay and picturesque doubtless odd enough to himto his Norfolk friend most extraordinary af- fairs.- They passed Lillehonne, gleam. ed by most beautiful Caudehec, and the twin towers of Jumiege at the mention of which he takes occasion to tell a little legend in his graceful manner. Then rose in the valley before them the tall towers of Ronen The Norfolk country gentleman thought it an odd old town, but stopped there to learn the odd language they spoke. I bade him adieu on the inn-steps some days after, telling him that I went on to study at Parisfor which, I dare say, he thought me a very odd sort of person.~, Thence they are hurried along on that happy modern invention to prevent a traveller from all pleasant study of scenerythe rail-road. It seems, how- everto make little matter to the French whether they must go in their old lei- surely diligences, or by the panting steam-carfor the reason that they do not travel. They do not love itto which point is a passage from Mr. Marvel. / The French travel very little for amusementvery little in their own coun- try for observation; this arises, in some measure, from the monotonous character of their roads, offering little to arrest the at- tention of the ordinary observer, and still less to gratify the tastes of those so essen- tially politan in feeling as the French nation; they find their resour capitalsthey neither wish n better things: a few wander a summer to the mountain towr reneesa few to the bat.hs of. pelle, and some to the sea; bu tent themselves best with the glitter of the city. Business are arranged by the professed travellers, and as a consequenc her of those travelling for b poses is exceedingly limited. That restless, moving, ci which is driving Americans to ter of the earth, meets with r from a Frenchman; it is a my~ he believes inquietude belor and he cannot conceive how enjoy inquietude. There beJ feeling none of the Britons ch home; were it so, it would be ble with his turbulent, excit~ bellious spirit. It is because tially gregarious in his natu Frenchman cannot understand paration or dispersion that is travel, can be source of enjoyi the wild turbulency to which spirit is disposed, is but an e in his lifetime of pleasure,- scene-shifting, without any cF ater. Hence it is, that less wi the French upon their highws than of any nation in Europe. This, by the way ;for n the windowas they glid curve, high above the river a came a view of the great cap The longed-for Paris, ga belle yule, enchanting city clear sunshine stretched upon no mist lies over itno fe rest on itno cloudno shad. a glittering heap it liesthe ing in its midst. The valley vannah, here and there rollin of hills, but nowhere is th. mountain; fortresses pile up horn the green bosom of thi around, and back of all,the hI down and touches the top of I that grow in the valley. A picture, as is the whol thors approach to the capit~ things noted that a lande would see. There are several chapte hundred pageson Paris, most felicitous portion of the our traveller is, very wmsei hurryhas as quick an eye things, as tbr sceneryan 1847.] A Volume by the Author of Notes by the Road. with a sharp stylus. A few passages, our readers will remember, were pub- lished in the Review some months ago, under the title of How one lives in Paris. The other chapters here are equally entertaining. He gives no elab- orate descriptions; he does not attempt to enter into the mysteries of French so- ciety, or the heart of the French people; but of all the externals of the gay me- tropolis of Europemany of them mi- nute and usually unobserved,but necessa- ry to make up the picturewe have never seen so happy a presentation. His eye catches every quaint and strange ( appearance ;and amid all the small manners and movementspicturings of the gay, glittering, and changing pan- orama of Parisian lifehe constantly takes you hack, by brief and touching references, to the scenes and men of for- mer centuries in that always enchanting worldthe days of Cond~ and Catherine, of Medeci-of Sully and Henri IV. of Louis, and Richelico, and Mazarin of Madame de Sevignd and Pompadour of Mari6 Antoinette, and the fearful Revo- lution. Whether his knowledge of His- tory be slight or profound, he makes the right use of it. An occasional fragment of some old legend, too, is brought in with singular simplicity and skillthe skill, indeed, lying very much in its sim- plicity. Thus the Story of Le Merle is well nigh worthy of Sterne, and The Abbe Leseur, is painfully touching. Many passages are amusing. There are vexations in France, as elsewhere but our friend, Marvel, though a little querulous, is evidently a philosopher. Indeed, he became so perforce. His no- tion of Parisian honesty is pleasant. Whoever passes three days for the first time in Paris, without being thoroughly and effectually cheated,so that he has an entire and vivid consciousness of his hav- ing heen so cheated,must be either sub- ject to some strange mental hallucination which denies him the power of a percep- tion of truth, or he is an extraordinary exception to all known rules. And the sooner a man learns this, and learns to take it good-naturedly, the better for his sleep,and the better for his appetite. I thou~,ht two visits to the capital had opened my eyes to this; yet, on the first morning after my last arrival in Paris, I was foolish enough to get angry, for only having to pay four francs for a bedin which I coutd not sleep, and four more for bad ham, and wine which I could not drink. I tried to scold ;but man of shrewdness should neve in Paris,most of alt, for so circumstance as being cheated; ian smilesand bows, and thin have a cholic; but never onc stranger can be so foolish as to ing cheated at Paris. Make a the garconask for a match to cigar, and he will see you are a knows the world, and are to lx accordingly. Leaving Paris, our travelb light, but capital sketch of tL and provincial cities, of Franc Limoges, RouenSunny Prov its summer cities, Nismes, ArIes, MontpelierMarseilk glittering MediterraneangI them all are presented in turn, their images in the mind. A gallop through Southe is not the least interesting poi Gleanings. That is a wil regionthe old territories of I rynthia, and Styriaoccupied most half-barbarous people, forms,a simple peasantry, nobilitycountries and ra whom, from reading old Bob Hungarian legends, and the i with the Turks, many romant tions have always been conne mind. South and East of Vienna Marvel, stretches a great country, little known to world ;and save at the hanin few such old-fashioned tra Clarke, and Bright, and Beau known to the reading world North, it is bounded by the mountains, which here and 1 down their rocky fingers, an league-wide, giant grasp upon Eastward,Wallachia and IV! between it, and Russia, an South and West it stoops dc level of the Adriatic, and folIo ged bank of the Save as far a~ and sweeps along the north s~ Danube, till the Danube liar Turkish land, and turbans and worn on the north and the s of the river. To the norti country leans its fir-clad shou magnificent mountains of the and beyond the Tyrol, is the Bavaria, whose capital is fa seated on the lifted plains. Of this portion, also, a 216 Fresh Gleanings: publishedl in our journal some months ago, where the cave of Addleshurg was described, and Boldo, the guide, told the story of Copita, the Illyrian Girl, whom her jealous lover, at the yearly festival, held in the great Cavern, led away from the dance to a dark chasm, and pushed her down into its roaring watersa story narrated with singular beauty of language and manner. All the chapters are good. The writer saw, indeed, hut a small part of Hungary and Bohemia but the glimpses he gives are strikingly picturesque and vivid. There is another interesting legend, too,more in the German styleof Hinzalmann, the German spirit of an old Illyrian castle. Then follows Cilli, and Gratz, and Vienna, and the winding valley of the Danubethough we cannot think he has made as much of this fine old region, as he might; then the Elbe, with Prague and Dresden; and the traveller breaks forth upon the level scenery, and quiet, industrious life of Dutch-land. Ham- burg, and Bremen, and Oldenburg, and Amsterdam, and the cities of Historic Belgium afford him occasion for re- marks of a provoking brevity, or full and minute, as the humor takes him. Some of his pen and ink sketches of the Dutch and Dutch scenery are as truthful, ludi- crous and finished, as any Dutch painter, paintin0 with a pipe in his mouth, ever laid upon canvas. One of the most queer and amusing of these is the de- scription of the excessively clean, tran- quil and diligent village of Broek, where the girls have little mirrors hanging aslant by the windows, that they may see every thing outside while they sit inside at their spinningwhere the fences are polished, the hedges clipped with scissors, and the close-shaved grass carefully cultivated in the streets, and the feet of the only donkey allowed to pass througha miii- inture donkey, at thathas his feet waxed! We cannot help referring, by the way, to a few pages introduced on the distinc- tive characteristic traits of habit, manner and conduct belonging to the different travellers of different nations. They are the remarks of a nice observer. So glide off these fair and pleasant pages, and our wanderer, half-regretful, half~eagerturns him to his American home. Belgium passed like a wild dream full of brilliancies and shadows. Then, I went sailing unde~ ancient townsunder vine-c and among pleasant islands waters of the Rhine. Up ~ bounding current, by ni0ht e sailed. In the day, the waters wei there was the loud hum of b the shore; in the night the cit~ and silent as the dead, and the flecked with red furnace flrc upon with the white light of Great and glorious Cathed and faded away behind ;t openedand closed again ; mc great, and frowned,and g and smiling, left us ;echu fainted ;sungs of peasant g our ears, and died in the rust Townsvineyardsruins cal and I was journeying th~ again. The people were gatherin: of harvest, and the grapes a on every hill-side, for the vint Again the enchanting winding Seine; Lillebonne, ar tiful Caudebec,and I was b~ the ocean once more. Then came the quick, sh departure, and the fading straining eye held upon th~i until the night stooped down, them. With morning came Sky And this petted eye, which I the indulgence of new scent for years, was new starved built dungeon of a shipwith Sky and Ocean. Butthanks working memorythrough days, and the wakeful nights, busy with pictures of count images of nations. Yet, ever, through it the burden of my most auxi was drifting, like a sea-bou. Homeward. Yes! a man whose heart V have-a home, or make one! a he be, there will he at the t~ a filling of the eye, and a wards it from over mountain: Had Mr. Marvel spoken oth right were his to dedicate MARY ? We part with Mr. Marvel He has made us to travel witi we feel that we part with a observant gentlemangiven, some odd humors and fanciec companionable, sound-minde imagination, a wide range of a constant eye for Art and Nr 1847.] Critical Notices. happily for their simplest beauties the mostand a peculiar liking for the unique side of Humanity. He is a man who knows, like Slerne, the philosophy the pathosequally o fsmiles and tears; he knowswhat so few have known that it is very little within us which sepa- rates their fountains! He has told his story tooin a style, too broken, perhaps, not always grammatical, and doubtless with sufficient faults besides grace and sweetness, and a luci. flow, (with a singular tone, more cal sense) not observed in the j~ any late itinerants. However, he has journeyed eL and has of course other bundles o ings. If we should hear from him ag CRITICAL .i~ Dictionary of./Jrchaic and Provincial Words, Obsolete Pkrases, Proverbs, and ./lncient Customs, from the Four- teenth Century. By J. 0. HALLIWELL, Esq., F.R.S. F.S.A. & c. 2 vols. Svo. London, J. Russell Smith. New York, Wiley & Putnam, Broadway. It is somewhat singular, considering the vast stores of materials for all periods of English literature preserved in the numer- ens libraries of Great Britain, that so im- portant and essential a work, as a Diction- ary of the Early English Language, should be left for completion at so late a period as 1847. Yet before the publication of Mr. Halliwells dictionary, a reader of old books in that language found no guide to direct him to the meaning of the archa- isms so continually occurring, and so per- plexing to the inexperienced. If, indeed, a work belonged to the Elizabethan period, he might perchance find some assistance in Nares cumbersome glossary, but it would be only here and there he would meet with an explanation of the word he was in search of. No other compilation deserves even a passing notice, and we cannot help, therefore, expressing our gra- titude for this most useful work, which consists of upwards of FIFTY THOTJ5AND articles, the majority not to be found in any of the scattered glossaries prefixed to the editions of early poets and dramatists. It should never be forgotten by our phi- lologists on this side of the Atlantic, that slight variations have undoubtedly taken place in the English language since its adoption in America, and that we our- selves have insensibly and gradually chang- ed some idioms and perverted the original sense of others. It is for these reasons that philological commentaries on English works can never satisfactorily proceed from the pens of native American writers, no matter how great and varied the talents of the latter. All our observations on this subject may be compressed into the grand NOTICES. axiom No man can be a comp hal critic in any other language own. Undoubtedly we, Americ the advantage over Germans arid foreigners, but, as just said, we h ated from the old classic Eogl therefore, in verbal criticism, w be content to submit to the aut native English philologists. In phical criticism we shall keep on with the best, not even exceptine thetic and rhetorical critics of Ge The English language at the cc ment of the fourteenth century, ti at which the labors of Mr. Halliv mence, was, we need scarcely obe far removed, in grammar and con~ from the Anglo-Saxon, pessessi- ever, a small proportion of Anglo words, that language being the by the aristocracy and court. Th Saxon was derived from the Teut the Anglo-Norman from the Lat The former was somewhat compi its structure, with declensions 5 the Latin and Greek. It was in into England in the fifth century, tinned to be spoken in its origin till the Norman Conquest. It pears to have undergone a few v between that period and the mid twelfth century, and afterwards ally deteriorated till the time of P Ei0hth, when indeed scarcely a grammatical character remained. With the exception of the unc thography, the English of the century scarcely differs from tha at the present time. A glance at the elaborate woe- us, one that reminds us, by its e nary research, of that real lear arduous study which graced mal in days gone by, but are seldom this age of rapid composition, wi ficient to give an idea of its larg of utility. We suspect it will more necessary in this country

A Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words, Obsolete Phrases, Proverbs, and Ancient Customs, from the Fourteenth Century. J. O. Halliwell Critical Notices 217-218

1847.] Critical Notices. happily for their simplest beauties the mostand a peculiar liking for the unique side of Humanity. He is a man who knows, like Slerne, the philosophy the pathosequally o fsmiles and tears; he knowswhat so few have known that it is very little within us which sepa- rates their fountains! He has told his story tooin a style, too broken, perhaps, not always grammatical, and doubtless with sufficient faults besides grace and sweetness, and a luci. flow, (with a singular tone, more cal sense) not observed in the j~ any late itinerants. However, he has journeyed eL and has of course other bundles o ings. If we should hear from him ag CRITICAL .i~ Dictionary of./Jrchaic and Provincial Words, Obsolete Pkrases, Proverbs, and ./lncient Customs, from the Four- teenth Century. By J. 0. HALLIWELL, Esq., F.R.S. F.S.A. & c. 2 vols. Svo. London, J. Russell Smith. New York, Wiley & Putnam, Broadway. It is somewhat singular, considering the vast stores of materials for all periods of English literature preserved in the numer- ens libraries of Great Britain, that so im- portant and essential a work, as a Diction- ary of the Early English Language, should be left for completion at so late a period as 1847. Yet before the publication of Mr. Halliwells dictionary, a reader of old books in that language found no guide to direct him to the meaning of the archa- isms so continually occurring, and so per- plexing to the inexperienced. If, indeed, a work belonged to the Elizabethan period, he might perchance find some assistance in Nares cumbersome glossary, but it would be only here and there he would meet with an explanation of the word he was in search of. No other compilation deserves even a passing notice, and we cannot help, therefore, expressing our gra- titude for this most useful work, which consists of upwards of FIFTY THOTJ5AND articles, the majority not to be found in any of the scattered glossaries prefixed to the editions of early poets and dramatists. It should never be forgotten by our phi- lologists on this side of the Atlantic, that slight variations have undoubtedly taken place in the English language since its adoption in America, and that we our- selves have insensibly and gradually chang- ed some idioms and perverted the original sense of others. It is for these reasons that philological commentaries on English works can never satisfactorily proceed from the pens of native American writers, no matter how great and varied the talents of the latter. All our observations on this subject may be compressed into the grand NOTICES. axiom No man can be a comp hal critic in any other language own. Undoubtedly we, Americ the advantage over Germans arid foreigners, but, as just said, we h ated from the old classic Eogl therefore, in verbal criticism, w be content to submit to the aut native English philologists. In phical criticism we shall keep on with the best, not even exceptine thetic and rhetorical critics of Ge The English language at the cc ment of the fourteenth century, ti at which the labors of Mr. Halliv mence, was, we need scarcely obe far removed, in grammar and con~ from the Anglo-Saxon, pessessi- ever, a small proportion of Anglo words, that language being the by the aristocracy and court. Th Saxon was derived from the Teut the Anglo-Norman from the Lat The former was somewhat compi its structure, with declensions 5 the Latin and Greek. It was in into England in the fifth century, tinned to be spoken in its origin till the Norman Conquest. It pears to have undergone a few v between that period and the mid twelfth century, and afterwards ally deteriorated till the time of P Ei0hth, when indeed scarcely a grammatical character remained. With the exception of the unc thography, the English of the century scarcely differs from tha at the present time. A glance at the elaborate woe- us, one that reminds us, by its e nary research, of that real lear arduous study which graced mal in days gone by, but are seldom this age of rapid composition, wi ficient to give an idea of its larg of utility. We suspect it will more necessary in this country 218 Critical .Notices. England, for few of us have leisure or opportunity to hunt for the information which is here without trouble presented to our hands. Take a bundle, nay a room- full of early writers, Chaucer, Lydgate, Gower, Skelton, Shakspeare, or even a collection of black-letter divinity, and we can confidently assure our readers, for we speak from experience, that it will very rarely happen an obsolete word or phrase will occur, not to be found explained in Mr. Halliwells Dictionary. Can we give it hi~,her praise? We think not, for utility, not display of learning, has been through- out the authors motto; he has not follow- ed Jamieson by encumbering his volumes with conjectural etymology, notoriously an unsafe guide, nor has he gone out of his way to attack the opinions of others; hut on almost every disputed point, on every doubtful word, the stores of his extensive reading are brought to bear, and if he has not in every instance silenced conjecture by certain explanation, he has at least produced sufficient quantities of new evidence to confine it within very narrow bounds. Nor let it be thou~ht that we are speaking extravagantly of the mer- its of this work; some faults, no doubt, must have occurred in so large an under- takin~,,; but in common fairness, it must be judged as a whole, not by what carping critics may say on single passages; and we earnestly recommend it to our readers, feeling convinced that the approbation of the scholars of America ought freely to be hestowed on an author who has satisfac- torily completed so grand a desideratum in our literature. None of our public or college libraries ought to he without it, and we venture to predict they will not, as soon as its merits are known. Elementary ./lstronomy; accompanied by sixteen colored astronomical maps; each three by three and a half feet, the whole designed to illustrate the mechanism of the heavens. By H. Mxr. TIsoN. Huntington & Savage, 216 Pearl street, New York. The Siderial Messenger; a monthly journal, devoted to the science of ds- tronomy. Edited by Professor 0. M. MITCHELL, Director of the Cincinnati Observatory. $3 per annum in advance. Huntington & Savage, 216 Pearl street, New York, Agents. The recent discoveries in Astronomy, and especially the extraordinary process by which the last and most important one has been made, have awakened a new in- terest in the science. But as yet our own country has done comparatively nothing in its cultivation; we are, however, rapid- ly improving our system of popular educa- tion, and elevating the character of our higher literary institutions. improvement, the facilities the different branches are and astronomy is one of the ol blest of the sciences; and it practically of immense value man race. Among all the moral influence is the strongc exalting. In all of them, illu~ dressed to the eye are of the portance. They are especial tronomy; because the imagin paths of the planets are so d conceived by the young. A can do this clearly, and reduc to such order and simplicity perfectly intelligible to the m~ pupils in our common schon family circle, wilt confer an ble benefit on the youth of Most mathematical treatic have had reference to abstruz which the pupil is introduced has learned the common del the mechanism of the heave. most important for him first has only dim conceptions. The sixteen astronomical issued in this city, are beautil of art; and represent the positi arid phenomena of the heave white relief on a black groun illustrating the form of the the comparative magnitude of the seasons, the eclipses, & c. with the simplest truths ; g gressively through the impo~ ples of the science. The a treatise, comprising some 2~ scribes the maps fully; class bodies, and explains the law. tem. It contains also all the orbits of the planets; affor. inents of a variety of probl interest and easy of solution. commend the work to teach~ mily circle, and to the priva The Siderial Messenger is in this country, but not the l Its accomplished arid able ed a deservedly high reputation, and abroad, by his labors th science of astronomy. Tho tively a young man, he has,. handed, in a period of ten yet- the Cincinnati Observatory, on it the second largest refrr ment in the world. The fir~ the young astronomer, Le V. series of computations which the discovery of the new p1 construction of new tables . of Mercury in May, 1845 Mitchells instrument had be~ time mounted. His latitude advantage over every Euro1 rner. He verified these tabi.

Elementary Astronomy. H. Mattison Critical Notices 218

218 Critical .Notices. England, for few of us have leisure or opportunity to hunt for the information which is here without trouble presented to our hands. Take a bundle, nay a room- full of early writers, Chaucer, Lydgate, Gower, Skelton, Shakspeare, or even a collection of black-letter divinity, and we can confidently assure our readers, for we speak from experience, that it will very rarely happen an obsolete word or phrase will occur, not to be found explained in Mr. Halliwells Dictionary. Can we give it hi~,her praise? We think not, for utility, not display of learning, has been through- out the authors motto; he has not follow- ed Jamieson by encumbering his volumes with conjectural etymology, notoriously an unsafe guide, nor has he gone out of his way to attack the opinions of others; hut on almost every disputed point, on every doubtful word, the stores of his extensive reading are brought to bear, and if he has not in every instance silenced conjecture by certain explanation, he has at least produced sufficient quantities of new evidence to confine it within very narrow bounds. Nor let it be thou~ht that we are speaking extravagantly of the mer- its of this work; some faults, no doubt, must have occurred in so large an under- takin~,,; but in common fairness, it must be judged as a whole, not by what carping critics may say on single passages; and we earnestly recommend it to our readers, feeling convinced that the approbation of the scholars of America ought freely to be hestowed on an author who has satisfac- torily completed so grand a desideratum in our literature. None of our public or college libraries ought to he without it, and we venture to predict they will not, as soon as its merits are known. Elementary ./lstronomy; accompanied by sixteen colored astronomical maps; each three by three and a half feet, the whole designed to illustrate the mechanism of the heavens. By H. Mxr. TIsoN. Huntington & Savage, 216 Pearl street, New York. The Siderial Messenger; a monthly journal, devoted to the science of ds- tronomy. Edited by Professor 0. M. MITCHELL, Director of the Cincinnati Observatory. $3 per annum in advance. Huntington & Savage, 216 Pearl street, New York, Agents. The recent discoveries in Astronomy, and especially the extraordinary process by which the last and most important one has been made, have awakened a new in- terest in the science. But as yet our own country has done comparatively nothing in its cultivation; we are, however, rapid- ly improving our system of popular educa- tion, and elevating the character of our higher literary institutions. improvement, the facilities the different branches are and astronomy is one of the ol blest of the sciences; and it practically of immense value man race. Among all the moral influence is the strongc exalting. In all of them, illu~ dressed to the eye are of the portance. They are especial tronomy; because the imagin paths of the planets are so d conceived by the young. A can do this clearly, and reduc to such order and simplicity perfectly intelligible to the m~ pupils in our common schon family circle, wilt confer an ble benefit on the youth of Most mathematical treatic have had reference to abstruz which the pupil is introduced has learned the common del the mechanism of the heave. most important for him first has only dim conceptions. The sixteen astronomical issued in this city, are beautil of art; and represent the positi arid phenomena of the heave white relief on a black groun illustrating the form of the the comparative magnitude of the seasons, the eclipses, & c. with the simplest truths ; g gressively through the impo~ ples of the science. The a treatise, comprising some 2~ scribes the maps fully; class bodies, and explains the law. tem. It contains also all the orbits of the planets; affor. inents of a variety of probl interest and easy of solution. commend the work to teach~ mily circle, and to the priva The Siderial Messenger is in this country, but not the l Its accomplished arid able ed a deservedly high reputation, and abroad, by his labors th science of astronomy. Tho tively a young man, he has,. handed, in a period of ten yet- the Cincinnati Observatory, on it the second largest refrr ment in the world. The fir~ the young astronomer, Le V. series of computations which the discovery of the new p1 construction of new tables . of Mercury in May, 1845 Mitchells instrument had be~ time mounted. His latitude advantage over every Euro1 rner. He verified these tabi.

The Siderial Messenger. O. M. Mitchell Critical Notices 218-219

218 Critical .Notices. England, for few of us have leisure or opportunity to hunt for the information which is here without trouble presented to our hands. Take a bundle, nay a room- full of early writers, Chaucer, Lydgate, Gower, Skelton, Shakspeare, or even a collection of black-letter divinity, and we can confidently assure our readers, for we speak from experience, that it will very rarely happen an obsolete word or phrase will occur, not to be found explained in Mr. Halliwells Dictionary. Can we give it hi~,her praise? We think not, for utility, not display of learning, has been through- out the authors motto; he has not follow- ed Jamieson by encumbering his volumes with conjectural etymology, notoriously an unsafe guide, nor has he gone out of his way to attack the opinions of others; hut on almost every disputed point, on every doubtful word, the stores of his extensive reading are brought to bear, and if he has not in every instance silenced conjecture by certain explanation, he has at least produced sufficient quantities of new evidence to confine it within very narrow bounds. Nor let it be thou~ht that we are speaking extravagantly of the mer- its of this work; some faults, no doubt, must have occurred in so large an under- takin~,,; but in common fairness, it must be judged as a whole, not by what carping critics may say on single passages; and we earnestly recommend it to our readers, feeling convinced that the approbation of the scholars of America ought freely to be hestowed on an author who has satisfac- torily completed so grand a desideratum in our literature. None of our public or college libraries ought to he without it, and we venture to predict they will not, as soon as its merits are known. Elementary ./lstronomy; accompanied by sixteen colored astronomical maps; each three by three and a half feet, the whole designed to illustrate the mechanism of the heavens. By H. Mxr. TIsoN. Huntington & Savage, 216 Pearl street, New York. The Siderial Messenger; a monthly journal, devoted to the science of ds- tronomy. Edited by Professor 0. M. MITCHELL, Director of the Cincinnati Observatory. $3 per annum in advance. Huntington & Savage, 216 Pearl street, New York, Agents. The recent discoveries in Astronomy, and especially the extraordinary process by which the last and most important one has been made, have awakened a new in- terest in the science. But as yet our own country has done comparatively nothing in its cultivation; we are, however, rapid- ly improving our system of popular educa- tion, and elevating the character of our higher literary institutions. improvement, the facilities the different branches are and astronomy is one of the ol blest of the sciences; and it practically of immense value man race. Among all the moral influence is the strongc exalting. In all of them, illu~ dressed to the eye are of the portance. They are especial tronomy; because the imagin paths of the planets are so d conceived by the young. A can do this clearly, and reduc to such order and simplicity perfectly intelligible to the m~ pupils in our common schon family circle, wilt confer an ble benefit on the youth of Most mathematical treatic have had reference to abstruz which the pupil is introduced has learned the common del the mechanism of the heave. most important for him first has only dim conceptions. The sixteen astronomical issued in this city, are beautil of art; and represent the positi arid phenomena of the heave white relief on a black groun illustrating the form of the the comparative magnitude of the seasons, the eclipses, & c. with the simplest truths ; g gressively through the impo~ ples of the science. The a treatise, comprising some 2~ scribes the maps fully; class bodies, and explains the law. tem. It contains also all the orbits of the planets; affor. inents of a variety of probl interest and easy of solution. commend the work to teach~ mily circle, and to the priva The Siderial Messenger is in this country, but not the l Its accomplished arid able ed a deservedly high reputation, and abroad, by his labors th science of astronomy. Tho tively a young man, he has,. handed, in a period of ten yet- the Cincinnati Observatory, on it the second largest refrr ment in the world. The fir~ the young astronomer, Le V. series of computations which the discovery of the new p1 construction of new tables . of Mercury in May, 1845 Mitchells instrument had be~ time mounted. His latitude advantage over every Euro1 rner. He verified these tabi. 1847j Critical Notices. accuracy; so much so as to encourage Le Verrier, at the instance of M. Arago, in the attempt to solve the still bolder problem of the disturbing force of Uranus. Professor Mitchell has also made other important observations, and particularly on the double stars. The results of his labors have, perhaps, been more known among the distinguished astronomers of Europe than among his own countrymen. For, when in Europe for the purchase of his instruments, having spent some time as the pupil of Professor Airy, the Royal Astronomer of England, he formed the acquaintance of some of the most eminent abroad. His talents and his labors have since brought him into correspondence with these and others. Among them are Struve, Maedler, Encke, Lord Ross, and Le Verrier. They are now engaged in, and have invited his co-operation in, a series of observations of the highest im- portance to the progress of astronomical science. There, he has every facility for making a most valuable journal. The ob- ject of the Messenger is to popularize and make intelligible to the great mass of the people of this country, the great truths of astronum-y, and their practical bearing on the physical and moral condition of man: it is to chronicle every new discovery in the science, and to explain the process by which it has been made. It will also em- brace the editors foreign correspondence, and a full account of the labors of those astronomers, at all the principal observa- tories in Europe. Each number is to be illustrated by one or more drawings of telescopic views. Professor Mitchells style as a w.riter is singularly clear, copious, and forcible, and his work is an admirable one for the professional man and for all classes. Modern Painters. By a GRADUATE OF OXFORD. (Parts I. and II. First Ameri- can from the third London edition. Re- vised by the Author. New York: Wiley & Putnam.) Young John Bull has done his mad- dest freak yet; unable with all his cash and credit to make people admire his pic- tures, be on a sudden has written three solid volumes, to prove that they are paint- ed on right principles. Having taken his graduation at Oxford, and laid in a great store of philosophy and quotable Greek, he darts off to the continentand returns pic- ture-struckintoxicated with Guidos, Ti- tians, Corregios, Angelos, & c., runs back to England, and is brought up all at once before Mr. Turner, whose enormous pro- ductions overwhelm him with a new and unspeakable enthusiasm: in each of the great masters he had discovered an unap- proachable perfection; by Mr. Turner also he is blasted by the excess of genius, and rushes rhapsodizing upon the w fancy him writing or talking w credible rapidity ; the ink flies from his pen, the foam of eloqo his lips, he tears a criticism to out Haydons Haydon! Can an pher account for it, that thee critics in England write so like Fuseli was mad, Haydon was my Hazlitt, and so is our graduate - Nevertheless, his madness is of amusing quality, and will hun unless it be some unfortunate painter who may catch the rabic The whole aim and purpose o is to set forth the painter of deci utation, of whose style the au deeply enamoured. Of this art only judge by engravings ; and as does not pretend to exalt him as a for he says, in the art of pain the power of color, Turner is Gainsborougb,who, we sup~ his turn a child to Titian, Clau hens, in the same property,w petent to say that his best lands. long comparison with the fines Boths, Pouissins of both names and many others, of less note, a inferior in all the essential qu~ trees look sappy and spongy, have vulgar expressions, his though agreeable, are dull, and sition of his pieces, though ex the general distribution of light, theatrical and affected. This we form solely in regard to th and general effect; the questioi (we repeat it,) is settled by himself. Yet the book itself contains a of excellent remark, always to with allowance, and shows a mar as yet not quite settled in hi~ The style is full and musical, hered with a great mass of e verbiage. The most agreeabl this work seem to be the d of scenery in pictures and in nat are copious, brilliant, and full of power. As a specimen of his mark, take?the following on the invention of the old painters. We shall not pass througr gallery of old art, without he topic of praise confidently adva sense of artificialness, the absc appearance of reality, the clu- combination by which the meddl is made evident, and the feeble hand branded on the inorganiza monstrous creature, is advanced of inventive power, as an ev abstracted conception ;nay, th of specific form, the utter abe of all organic and individual ci object, (numberless examples from the works of the old ~in

Modern Painters. A Graduate of Oxford Critical Notices 219-220

1847j Critical Notices. accuracy; so much so as to encourage Le Verrier, at the instance of M. Arago, in the attempt to solve the still bolder problem of the disturbing force of Uranus. Professor Mitchell has also made other important observations, and particularly on the double stars. The results of his labors have, perhaps, been more known among the distinguished astronomers of Europe than among his own countrymen. For, when in Europe for the purchase of his instruments, having spent some time as the pupil of Professor Airy, the Royal Astronomer of England, he formed the acquaintance of some of the most eminent abroad. His talents and his labors have since brought him into correspondence with these and others. Among them are Struve, Maedler, Encke, Lord Ross, and Le Verrier. They are now engaged in, and have invited his co-operation in, a series of observations of the highest im- portance to the progress of astronomical science. There, he has every facility for making a most valuable journal. The ob- ject of the Messenger is to popularize and make intelligible to the great mass of the people of this country, the great truths of astronum-y, and their practical bearing on the physical and moral condition of man: it is to chronicle every new discovery in the science, and to explain the process by which it has been made. It will also em- brace the editors foreign correspondence, and a full account of the labors of those astronomers, at all the principal observa- tories in Europe. Each number is to be illustrated by one or more drawings of telescopic views. Professor Mitchells style as a w.riter is singularly clear, copious, and forcible, and his work is an admirable one for the professional man and for all classes. Modern Painters. By a GRADUATE OF OXFORD. (Parts I. and II. First Ameri- can from the third London edition. Re- vised by the Author. New York: Wiley & Putnam.) Young John Bull has done his mad- dest freak yet; unable with all his cash and credit to make people admire his pic- tures, be on a sudden has written three solid volumes, to prove that they are paint- ed on right principles. Having taken his graduation at Oxford, and laid in a great store of philosophy and quotable Greek, he darts off to the continentand returns pic- ture-struckintoxicated with Guidos, Ti- tians, Corregios, Angelos, & c., runs back to England, and is brought up all at once before Mr. Turner, whose enormous pro- ductions overwhelm him with a new and unspeakable enthusiasm: in each of the great masters he had discovered an unap- proachable perfection; by Mr. Turner also he is blasted by the excess of genius, and rushes rhapsodizing upon the w fancy him writing or talking w credible rapidity ; the ink flies from his pen, the foam of eloqo his lips, he tears a criticism to out Haydons Haydon! Can an pher account for it, that thee critics in England write so like Fuseli was mad, Haydon was my Hazlitt, and so is our graduate - Nevertheless, his madness is of amusing quality, and will hun unless it be some unfortunate painter who may catch the rabic The whole aim and purpose o is to set forth the painter of deci utation, of whose style the au deeply enamoured. Of this art only judge by engravings ; and as does not pretend to exalt him as a for he says, in the art of pain the power of color, Turner is Gainsborougb,who, we sup~ his turn a child to Titian, Clau hens, in the same property,w petent to say that his best lands. long comparison with the fines Boths, Pouissins of both names and many others, of less note, a inferior in all the essential qu~ trees look sappy and spongy, have vulgar expressions, his though agreeable, are dull, and sition of his pieces, though ex the general distribution of light, theatrical and affected. This we form solely in regard to th and general effect; the questioi (we repeat it,) is settled by himself. Yet the book itself contains a of excellent remark, always to with allowance, and shows a mar as yet not quite settled in hi~ The style is full and musical, hered with a great mass of e verbiage. The most agreeabl this work seem to be the d of scenery in pictures and in nat are copious, brilliant, and full of power. As a specimen of his mark, take?the following on the invention of the old painters. We shall not pass througr gallery of old art, without he topic of praise confidently adva sense of artificialness, the absc appearance of reality, the clu- combination by which the meddl is made evident, and the feeble hand branded on the inorganiza monstrous creature, is advanced of inventive power, as an ev abstracted conception ;nay, th of specific form, the utter abe of all organic and individual ci object, (numberless examples from the works of the old ~in 220 Critical Notices. given in the following pages), is constantly held up by the unthinking critic as the foundation of the grand or historical style, and the first step to the attainment of a pure ideal. Now there is but one grand style, in the treatment of all subjects what- soever, and that style is based on the per- fect knowledge, and consists in the simple unincumbered rendering, of the specific characters of the given object, be it man, beast, or flower. This, with qualifica- tion, will do very well. But does Turner do all this? We think not, but the reverse. The intention of the above passage is to show why painted landscapes have no moral effect upon the mind. The author considers that pictures should have this effect as well as music. He is an Oxford scholar, and has the peculiar sentiment of the Oxford tract men. The Writings of GEORGF~ WASHINGTON, being his Correspondence, ./Iddresses, .Messages, and other papers, official and private: selected and published from the original Manuscripts; with a Life of the ./luthor, Notes and Il- lustrations. By Jared Sparks. Harper and l3rothers. New York. 1847. A very cheap issue of a very important work, essential to all public, or private, historical libraries, and to all who mean to make themselves familiar with the true history and spirit of the Revolution. The letters of Washington are among his pub- lic acts, he neither spoke nor wrote with- out reference to the public good. Instead of dry compendiums and lectures, the judicious reader prefers to make himself acquainted with the acts of great men in their biographies. History is no- thing, if it is not an abstract of such biog- raphies; but it seldom happens that the historical compiler, or even the philo- sophical historian, is able to communicate that feeling of the reality of events which he himself acquires from the perusal of original documents. This edition of the writings of Washington is within the means of all general readers. Modern French Reader (Morceaux Choi- ses des auteurs modernes, a lusage de la .Jeunusse) ; with a translation of the new and different words and idioniatie phrases which occur in the rk. By F. M. ROWAN. Revised and enlarged by J. L. .IEwETT. New York: D. Ap- pleton & Co. 1847. A selection from the writings of any foreign language for a students Reader, should always bewhat they usually are~ notinteresting to the learner. This French Reader of Rowans is of this cha racter. The writers introdii. at once polished and popule Balzac, Bignon, Capefigue, Du. Victor Hugo, Lamartine, Mhrim~e, Michelet, Sismon De Tocqueville, Villemain & French style of this day is easier to read than that of the 1 but less classical. Specimens mer, therefore, should be first the learner; of the latter, aftei CHAMBERS Encyclopedia e Literature: a selection of productions of English .flu the earliest to the present nected by a critical and 1 History. Elegantly illusi ton: Gould, Kendall and J We do not hesitate to say t~ esting and valuable a compend lish literature, and notices of I of letters, has never appeal edited by Chambers, of the Journal. The editors life an had qualified him for the task forth such a work; and he plished it with great knowled a happy brevity, and singular style. Every writer who has al reputation in the British islan or poetry, since the sixth cent duced, with some extract of I Thus the body of informatio writings, and the literary men Scotland, and Ireland, for to. embodied in this Cyclopedia, sufficient of itself to induct a or into an excellent knowledg literature, especially its history recur to it again. Theology Explained and I a Series of Sermons By DwIC,HT,S. T. D.,LL. D. sidentof Yale College. Wi of the life of the author. umes. Twelfth edition. Harper & Brothers. At this day it is not needed praise of these Theological President Dwight. Even by differ from him in opinion, knowledged to be eminently and elegant, and often possesc power, not the less effectiv clothed with a severe grace of theological writer has been no read in this country; and in E vides with Edwards a widev tinguished reputationfor ti European theologians held in with these eminent America.

The Writings of George Washington. Jared Sparks Critical Notices 220

220 Critical Notices. given in the following pages), is constantly held up by the unthinking critic as the foundation of the grand or historical style, and the first step to the attainment of a pure ideal. Now there is but one grand style, in the treatment of all subjects what- soever, and that style is based on the per- fect knowledge, and consists in the simple unincumbered rendering, of the specific characters of the given object, be it man, beast, or flower. This, with qualifica- tion, will do very well. But does Turner do all this? We think not, but the reverse. The intention of the above passage is to show why painted landscapes have no moral effect upon the mind. The author considers that pictures should have this effect as well as music. He is an Oxford scholar, and has the peculiar sentiment of the Oxford tract men. The Writings of GEORGF~ WASHINGTON, being his Correspondence, ./Iddresses, .Messages, and other papers, official and private: selected and published from the original Manuscripts; with a Life of the ./luthor, Notes and Il- lustrations. By Jared Sparks. Harper and l3rothers. New York. 1847. A very cheap issue of a very important work, essential to all public, or private, historical libraries, and to all who mean to make themselves familiar with the true history and spirit of the Revolution. The letters of Washington are among his pub- lic acts, he neither spoke nor wrote with- out reference to the public good. Instead of dry compendiums and lectures, the judicious reader prefers to make himself acquainted with the acts of great men in their biographies. History is no- thing, if it is not an abstract of such biog- raphies; but it seldom happens that the historical compiler, or even the philo- sophical historian, is able to communicate that feeling of the reality of events which he himself acquires from the perusal of original documents. This edition of the writings of Washington is within the means of all general readers. Modern French Reader (Morceaux Choi- ses des auteurs modernes, a lusage de la .Jeunusse) ; with a translation of the new and different words and idioniatie phrases which occur in the rk. By F. M. ROWAN. Revised and enlarged by J. L. .IEwETT. New York: D. Ap- pleton & Co. 1847. A selection from the writings of any foreign language for a students Reader, should always bewhat they usually are~ notinteresting to the learner. This French Reader of Rowans is of this cha racter. The writers introdii. at once polished and popule Balzac, Bignon, Capefigue, Du. Victor Hugo, Lamartine, Mhrim~e, Michelet, Sismon De Tocqueville, Villemain & French style of this day is easier to read than that of the 1 but less classical. Specimens mer, therefore, should be first the learner; of the latter, aftei CHAMBERS Encyclopedia e Literature: a selection of productions of English .flu the earliest to the present nected by a critical and 1 History. Elegantly illusi ton: Gould, Kendall and J We do not hesitate to say t~ esting and valuable a compend lish literature, and notices of I of letters, has never appeal edited by Chambers, of the Journal. The editors life an had qualified him for the task forth such a work; and he plished it with great knowled a happy brevity, and singular style. Every writer who has al reputation in the British islan or poetry, since the sixth cent duced, with some extract of I Thus the body of informatio writings, and the literary men Scotland, and Ireland, for to. embodied in this Cyclopedia, sufficient of itself to induct a or into an excellent knowledg literature, especially its history recur to it again. Theology Explained and I a Series of Sermons By DwIC,HT,S. T. D.,LL. D. sidentof Yale College. Wi of the life of the author. umes. Twelfth edition. Harper & Brothers. At this day it is not needed praise of these Theological President Dwight. Even by differ from him in opinion, knowledged to be eminently and elegant, and often possesc power, not the less effectiv clothed with a severe grace of theological writer has been no read in this country; and in E vides with Edwards a widev tinguished reputationfor ti European theologians held in with these eminent America.

Modern French Reader. F. M. Rowan Critical Notices 220

220 Critical Notices. given in the following pages), is constantly held up by the unthinking critic as the foundation of the grand or historical style, and the first step to the attainment of a pure ideal. Now there is but one grand style, in the treatment of all subjects what- soever, and that style is based on the per- fect knowledge, and consists in the simple unincumbered rendering, of the specific characters of the given object, be it man, beast, or flower. This, with qualifica- tion, will do very well. But does Turner do all this? We think not, but the reverse. The intention of the above passage is to show why painted landscapes have no moral effect upon the mind. The author considers that pictures should have this effect as well as music. He is an Oxford scholar, and has the peculiar sentiment of the Oxford tract men. The Writings of GEORGF~ WASHINGTON, being his Correspondence, ./Iddresses, .Messages, and other papers, official and private: selected and published from the original Manuscripts; with a Life of the ./luthor, Notes and Il- lustrations. By Jared Sparks. Harper and l3rothers. New York. 1847. A very cheap issue of a very important work, essential to all public, or private, historical libraries, and to all who mean to make themselves familiar with the true history and spirit of the Revolution. The letters of Washington are among his pub- lic acts, he neither spoke nor wrote with- out reference to the public good. Instead of dry compendiums and lectures, the judicious reader prefers to make himself acquainted with the acts of great men in their biographies. History is no- thing, if it is not an abstract of such biog- raphies; but it seldom happens that the historical compiler, or even the philo- sophical historian, is able to communicate that feeling of the reality of events which he himself acquires from the perusal of original documents. This edition of the writings of Washington is within the means of all general readers. Modern French Reader (Morceaux Choi- ses des auteurs modernes, a lusage de la .Jeunusse) ; with a translation of the new and different words and idioniatie phrases which occur in the rk. By F. M. ROWAN. Revised and enlarged by J. L. .IEwETT. New York: D. Ap- pleton & Co. 1847. A selection from the writings of any foreign language for a students Reader, should always bewhat they usually are~ notinteresting to the learner. This French Reader of Rowans is of this cha racter. The writers introdii. at once polished and popule Balzac, Bignon, Capefigue, Du. Victor Hugo, Lamartine, Mhrim~e, Michelet, Sismon De Tocqueville, Villemain & French style of this day is easier to read than that of the 1 but less classical. Specimens mer, therefore, should be first the learner; of the latter, aftei CHAMBERS Encyclopedia e Literature: a selection of productions of English .flu the earliest to the present nected by a critical and 1 History. Elegantly illusi ton: Gould, Kendall and J We do not hesitate to say t~ esting and valuable a compend lish literature, and notices of I of letters, has never appeal edited by Chambers, of the Journal. The editors life an had qualified him for the task forth such a work; and he plished it with great knowled a happy brevity, and singular style. Every writer who has al reputation in the British islan or poetry, since the sixth cent duced, with some extract of I Thus the body of informatio writings, and the literary men Scotland, and Ireland, for to. embodied in this Cyclopedia, sufficient of itself to induct a or into an excellent knowledg literature, especially its history recur to it again. Theology Explained and I a Series of Sermons By DwIC,HT,S. T. D.,LL. D. sidentof Yale College. Wi of the life of the author. umes. Twelfth edition. Harper & Brothers. At this day it is not needed praise of these Theological President Dwight. Even by differ from him in opinion, knowledged to be eminently and elegant, and often possesc power, not the less effectiv clothed with a severe grace of theological writer has been no read in this country; and in E vides with Edwards a widev tinguished reputationfor ti European theologians held in with these eminent America.

Chambers' Encyclopedia of English Literature Critical Notices 220

220 Critical Notices. given in the following pages), is constantly held up by the unthinking critic as the foundation of the grand or historical style, and the first step to the attainment of a pure ideal. Now there is but one grand style, in the treatment of all subjects what- soever, and that style is based on the per- fect knowledge, and consists in the simple unincumbered rendering, of the specific characters of the given object, be it man, beast, or flower. This, with qualifica- tion, will do very well. But does Turner do all this? We think not, but the reverse. The intention of the above passage is to show why painted landscapes have no moral effect upon the mind. The author considers that pictures should have this effect as well as music. He is an Oxford scholar, and has the peculiar sentiment of the Oxford tract men. The Writings of GEORGF~ WASHINGTON, being his Correspondence, ./Iddresses, .Messages, and other papers, official and private: selected and published from the original Manuscripts; with a Life of the ./luthor, Notes and Il- lustrations. By Jared Sparks. Harper and l3rothers. New York. 1847. A very cheap issue of a very important work, essential to all public, or private, historical libraries, and to all who mean to make themselves familiar with the true history and spirit of the Revolution. The letters of Washington are among his pub- lic acts, he neither spoke nor wrote with- out reference to the public good. Instead of dry compendiums and lectures, the judicious reader prefers to make himself acquainted with the acts of great men in their biographies. History is no- thing, if it is not an abstract of such biog- raphies; but it seldom happens that the historical compiler, or even the philo- sophical historian, is able to communicate that feeling of the reality of events which he himself acquires from the perusal of original documents. This edition of the writings of Washington is within the means of all general readers. Modern French Reader (Morceaux Choi- ses des auteurs modernes, a lusage de la .Jeunusse) ; with a translation of the new and different words and idioniatie phrases which occur in the rk. By F. M. ROWAN. Revised and enlarged by J. L. .IEwETT. New York: D. Ap- pleton & Co. 1847. A selection from the writings of any foreign language for a students Reader, should always bewhat they usually are~ notinteresting to the learner. This French Reader of Rowans is of this cha racter. The writers introdii. at once polished and popule Balzac, Bignon, Capefigue, Du. Victor Hugo, Lamartine, Mhrim~e, Michelet, Sismon De Tocqueville, Villemain & French style of this day is easier to read than that of the 1 but less classical. Specimens mer, therefore, should be first the learner; of the latter, aftei CHAMBERS Encyclopedia e Literature: a selection of productions of English .flu the earliest to the present nected by a critical and 1 History. Elegantly illusi ton: Gould, Kendall and J We do not hesitate to say t~ esting and valuable a compend lish literature, and notices of I of letters, has never appeal edited by Chambers, of the Journal. The editors life an had qualified him for the task forth such a work; and he plished it with great knowled a happy brevity, and singular style. Every writer who has al reputation in the British islan or poetry, since the sixth cent duced, with some extract of I Thus the body of informatio writings, and the literary men Scotland, and Ireland, for to. embodied in this Cyclopedia, sufficient of itself to induct a or into an excellent knowledg literature, especially its history recur to it again. Theology Explained and I a Series of Sermons By DwIC,HT,S. T. D.,LL. D. sidentof Yale College. Wi of the life of the author. umes. Twelfth edition. Harper & Brothers. At this day it is not needed praise of these Theological President Dwight. Even by differ from him in opinion, knowledged to be eminently and elegant, and often possesc power, not the less effectiv clothed with a severe grace of theological writer has been no read in this country; and in E vides with Edwards a widev tinguished reputationfor ti European theologians held in with these eminent America.

Theology Explained and Defended, in a Series of Sermons. Timothy Dwight Critical Notices 220-220B

220 Critical Notices. given in the following pages), is constantly held up by the unthinking critic as the foundation of the grand or historical style, and the first step to the attainment of a pure ideal. Now there is but one grand style, in the treatment of all subjects what- soever, and that style is based on the per- fect knowledge, and consists in the simple unincumbered rendering, of the specific characters of the given object, be it man, beast, or flower. This, with qualifica- tion, will do very well. But does Turner do all this? We think not, but the reverse. The intention of the above passage is to show why painted landscapes have no moral effect upon the mind. The author considers that pictures should have this effect as well as music. He is an Oxford scholar, and has the peculiar sentiment of the Oxford tract men. The Writings of GEORGF~ WASHINGTON, being his Correspondence, ./Iddresses, .Messages, and other papers, official and private: selected and published from the original Manuscripts; with a Life of the ./luthor, Notes and Il- lustrations. By Jared Sparks. Harper and l3rothers. New York. 1847. A very cheap issue of a very important work, essential to all public, or private, historical libraries, and to all who mean to make themselves familiar with the true history and spirit of the Revolution. The letters of Washington are among his pub- lic acts, he neither spoke nor wrote with- out reference to the public good. Instead of dry compendiums and lectures, the judicious reader prefers to make himself acquainted with the acts of great men in their biographies. History is no- thing, if it is not an abstract of such biog- raphies; but it seldom happens that the historical compiler, or even the philo- sophical historian, is able to communicate that feeling of the reality of events which he himself acquires from the perusal of original documents. This edition of the writings of Washington is within the means of all general readers. Modern French Reader (Morceaux Choi- ses des auteurs modernes, a lusage de la .Jeunusse) ; with a translation of the new and different words and idioniatie phrases which occur in the rk. By F. M. ROWAN. Revised and enlarged by J. L. .IEwETT. N