C NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. No. LIV. NEW SERIES, NO. XXIX. JANUARY, 1827. ART. 1.i. Report of the Examination which has been made by the Board of Engineers, with a view to Internal Improve- ment, ~c. February 14, 1825. Printed by Order of the Senate. 2. Information required by a Resolution of the House of Re- presentatives of the 13th nit. in Relation to Expenditures us- cident or relating to Internal Improvements, for the Years 1824 and 1825. Read and laid upon the Table, April 3, 1826. 3. Report qf the Board of Internal Improvement, upon the Subject of a National Road from the City of Washington to New Orleans. April 12, 1826. AN Act was passed by the Congress of the United States, in April, 1824, authorizing the President to cause the necessary surveys, plans, and estimates to be made, of such roads and canals, as he may deem of national importance in a commercial or military point of view, or necessary to the transportation of the public mail. This act was not carried through without an elaborate discussion, nor without calling forth an anirnat- ed opposition. Although it did not immediately involve the often agitated question, whether Congress has the power, in- dependently of the States, to execute a system of internal im- provement, yet it had such a reference to it, as to rouse all VOL. xxiv.~o. 54. I internal Inprovements. [Jan~ the apprehensions connected with that si~ibject, and to justify a course of argument, which ranged through the whole theory and practice of the implied powers of the constitution. It was a rambling and desultory debate, considering the point at is- sue; and many were on the affirmative side at the final vote, who would have been strenuous in the opposition, had the un- qualified power been surrendered, which formed the drift of the arguments. The internal improvement of our country, by means of ca- nals and permanent roads, viewed apart from the power by which they may be constructed, can encounter no opposition from the wise and patriotic. The results of canalling are now involved in no uncertainty. The experiment has been in full operation for about half a century in England, with the most satisfactory, and even triumphant success. From good author- ity, it appears, that 13,205,117 sterling, affording at this time an aggregate dividend of 782,257 sterling, or about 5~ per cent, have been vested in canals in England. By this extensive system of internal improvement, that country has become every- where intersected with navigable waters; her innermost regions have become accessible to boats from almost all points of her coast, bringing out her treasures from the very bowels of her mountains, and pouring them into the lap of commerce with the same facility, as if nature had cast them upon the verge of the ocean tides. The thousand streams, which used to be running wastefully down her mountains and hills, are now carefully gathered up into reservoirs, and converted, from mere orna- m~nts of the landscape, into powerful auxiliaries of trade. The favored inhabitants of the banks of large rivers, who were for- merly accustomed to regard the less fortunate residents in the interior, as cut off from all the profits of commerce, now behold artificial streams descend from all quarters and, regardless of the laws of nature, seek out the nearest route to market, leaving these boasted rivers to flow on in idleness and inutility. There is scarcely a town in England now, of any consider- able popm~lation and business, which has not communications of this kind, connecting it with the resources essential to its pros- perity and comfort, and with markets for its surplus articles of manufacture and land produce. Her mines, from these circum- stances, all become available, and the agriculturist of the interior has the same excitements to industry, as the agriculturist of the coast or the navigable rivers. These canals, joined with their 1827.] Internal Improvements. auxiliary railways, and with the permanent roads, have doubtless contributed as much to the prosperity of Britain, as her external commerce; and by hringing into operation a mass of enterprise and wealth, unequalled by any other nation, have enabled her to sustain byrdens, which have been the subject of falsified prophe- cies for the last twenty or thirty years. It is not surprising, that the United States hav~ heretofore turned so little of their attention to extensive internal improve- ments. Both population and wealth have been too much scat- tered for such laborious and expensive undertakings, indepen- dently of the many political causes, which have tended to dis- courage them. But we have now, in some do~gree, a dense and wealthy population, and the commercial facilities of the country bear no proportion to either its wauts or its ability. Demand and consumption are no longer confined to a maritime border; a wide spread interior is claiming its supply. For many years after the emigrant to the West left the Atlantic states, he was obliged to content himself with the scanty produce of the new country around him. He had little to ask from abroad, because his means of payment were small. But the wilderness is now an obsolete term with us; and from the Atlan- tic to the Mississippi, there is a well settled and active popula- tion, whose wants, and whose competency to gratify them, are nearly the same. The resident on the Ohio and its tributaries, seeks the same comforts, and almost the same luxuries, as the resident on the Hudson or the Delaware, and has nearly the same means to acquire them. There was something formidable in the contemplation of these extensive works, and it was natural to distrust ourselves, not- withstanding that other countries had been so successful. But, fortunately, we have now an experiment in our own country, which affords every encouragement to science and to enterprise. New York has, in the very outset, completed a canal which sur- p asses, in some respects, any similar work in the oldest countries. it is connected with a series of lakes, part only of whose shores are at all inhabited, and runs through a country, populous and-highly cultivated, it is true, but having many natural facilities for transportation, considerably improved by art; and yet it promises to be, ere many years, a source of great income to the state which achieved it, besides being of incalculable benefit to the country at large. The beneficial results of a work like this are not confined to itself. It becomes, as it were, the parent 4 internal Improvements. [Jan. of subsidiary works, which would otherwise never have existed; a trunk, whence numerous branches spring, which derive from it their origin and support.* The first Report mentioned at the bead of this article exhibits a preliminary fulfilment of a part of the surveys, intended by the act above cited. That our readers may have the entire plan exhibited in that act, we are induced to make large ex- tracts from the able and comprehensive letter of Mr Calhoun, then Secretary of War, to the President, communicated by him to Congress at the beginning of the Session of 18245. As it will probably form the basis of the system of internal im- provement, which may occupy the attention of the country for some years to come, it may well claim such permanency of record, as our columns may give it. The United States may be considered, in a geographical point of view, as consisting of three distinct parts; of which the portion extending along the shores of the Atlantic, and back to the Alle- gaily mountains, constitute one; that lying on the lakes and the St Lawrence, another; and that watered by the Mississippi, in- cluding its various branches, the other. These several portions are very distinctly marked by well defined lines, and have natu- rally but little connexion, particularly in a commercial point of view. It is only by artificial means of communication, that this natural separation can be overcome; to effect which much has already been done. The great canal of New York firmly unites the country of the lakes with the Atlantic, through the channel of the North river; and the national road from Cumberland to Wheeling, commenced under the administration of Mr Jefferson, * The following items relating to the New York canal, are extract- ed from the report of the committee on Roads and Canals, presented to the House of Representatives just before its adjournment, May, 1826. The tolls on the New York canal, during the year 1824, amounted to $340,761.07; in 1825, to $566,221.51; and for 1826, they are es~ timated at $750,000, exceeding eight per cent. per annum, on its cost, at the low rate of one cent per ton per mile, on all agricultural and country produce, and three cents for merchandise; which, with the duty on salt and auctions, will give a surplus of $577,000 a year to dis- charge the principal, after paying the interest on the debt, and all the expenses of repairs, collections, & c. amounting to $550,000. The number of boats and rafts, which passed on the canal, from 9th of April to 12th of December last, was 13,100, carrying 219,074 tons; 185,405 bound to, and 33,669 from the city of New York; amounting to 42 boats per day; amid the number of passengers exceeding 40,000. 1827.] Internal Improvements. unites, but more imperfectly, the Western with the Atlantic states. But the complete union of these separate parts, which geograph- ically constitute our country, can only be effected by the comple- tion of the projected canal to the Ohio and Lake Erie, by means of which the country lying on the lakes will be firmly united to that on the western waters, and both with the Atlantic States, and the whole intimately connected with the centre. These consider- ations, of themselves, without taking into view others, fairly bring this great xvork within the provision of the act directing the sur- veys; but when we extend our views, and consider the Ohio and the Mississippi, with its great branches, but as a prolongation of the canal, it must be admitted to be not only of national import- ance, but of the very highest national importance, in a commer- cial, military, and political point of view. Thus considered, it involves the completion of the improvements of the navigation of both these rivers, which has been commenced under the appro- priation of the last session of Congress ; and also, canals round the Falls of Ohio at Louisville, and Muscle Shoals on the Ten- nessee river, both of which, it is believed, can be executed at a moderate expense. With these improvements, the projected ca- nal would not only unite the three great sections of the country together, as has been pointed out, but would also unite, in the most intimate manner, all of the states on the lakes and the west- tern waters among themselves, and give complete effect to what- ever improvements may be made by those states individually. The advantages, in fact, from the completion of this single work, as proposed, would be so extended and ramified throughout these great divisions of our country, already containing so large a por- tion of our population, and destined, in a few generations, to out- number the most populous~ states of Europe, as to leave in that quarter no other work for the execution of the general govern- ment, excepting only the extension of the Cumberland road from Wheeling to St Louis, which is also conceived to be of national importance. The route, which is deemed next in importance in a national point of view, is the one extending through the entire tier of the Atlantic states, including those on the Gulf of Mexico. By ad- verting to the division of our country, through which this route must pass, it will be seen, that there is a striking difference in ge- ographical features, between the portions which extend south and north of the seat of government, including the Chesapeake bay, ~vith its various arms, in the latter division. In the northern part of the division, all of the great rivers terminate in deep and bold navigable estuaries, while an opposite character (listinguishes the 6 internal improvements. [Jan. mouths of the rivers in the other. This difference gives greater advantage to improvement, by canal, in the northern, and less in the southern division. In the former, it is conceived to be of high national importance, to unite its deep and capacious bays by a series of canals; and the Board was accordingly instructed to examine the routes for canals between the Delaware and the Ra- ritan, between Barnstable and Buzzards bays, and Boston harbor arid Narraganset bay. The execution of the very important link in this line of communication between the Delaware and the Chesapeake, having been already commenced, was not compre- hended in the order. In the section lying south of this, none of these advantages for communication by canals exist. A line of inland navigation extends, it is true, along nearly the whole line of coasts, which is susceptible of improvement, and may be rendered highly service- able, particularly in war, and on that account may be fairly con- sidered of national importance. The Dismal Swamp canal, from the Chesapeake to Albemarle sound, which is nearly com- pleted, constitutes a very important link in this navigation. But it is conceived, that, for the southern division of our country, the improvement which would best effect the views of Congress, would be a durable road, extending from the seat of government to New Orleans, through the Atlantic states; and the Board will accordingly receive instructions to examine the route as soon as the next season will permit. These three great works, then, the canal to Ohio and Lake Erie, with the improvement of the navigation of the Ohio, Mis- sissippi, and the canal round Muscle Shoal; the series of canals connecting the bays north of the seat of government; and a dur- able road, extending from the seat of government to New Orleans, uniting the whole of the southern Atlantic states, are conceived to be the most important objects within the provisions of the act of the last session. There are other improvements of a secondary character, in a national view, which are comprehended in the system of sur- veys; namely, a connexion of the Atlantic with the Gulf of Mexico, by the most eligible routes through Florida; of the Susquehannali with the Allegany; of the James river with the Kenhaw& ; and of Lake Champlain with the St Lawrence. With a view to execute the three primary objects embraced in the foregoing plan, a Board of Internal Improvement was formed, consisting of scientific officers of the corps of engineers, and many civil engineers of approved talents and local informa 1827.1 Internal Improvements. 7 tion. The Report exhibits the result of their labors (luring the first season. The work first presented in the Report, is the proposed canal com~nunication between the tide water of the Potomac and the Ohio river. This connexion of the central states with the great streams of the West, appears to have engaged attention, ever since our adventurous population began to pass the Allegany ridge. While we were yet colonies, aud the segregated inhabit- ants beyond that barrier could scarcely have assumed the char- acter of settlements, General Washington, then an undistin- guished individual, obtained an act of the Virginia legislature, to improve the navigation of the Potomac, with a view to ex- tend a tie into those separated regions, which might bind them by interest, as well as consanguinity, to the Atlantic shores. The war of the Revolution only suspended these exertions; for in 1784, as soon as the great work of independence had been consummated, and the leisure of retirement allowed him to turn his attention to peaceful concerns, we find him at once engaged in endeavors to open this important communication. During the contest, the tide of emigration had been gradually but constantly setting from the East, into the valleys of the West; and when the government of the United States ~vent into opera- tion, instead of finding its sphere coufined within the boundaries of the Atlantic and the Allegany mountains, it was obliged to stretch forth its arms almost to the Mississippi. If an easy com- munication with the West had formerly been important, when it was almost a wilderness, the territories, which were now rising up in its bosom, rendered such a facility doubly important. General Washington, therefore, exerted his influence to har- monize the various interests concerned, and happily induced a cooperation of the states of Virginia and Maryland, whose joint exertions effected the object intended, which was merely to improve the navigation of the Potomac. But this beneficial improvement, which was probably equal to the ability, and may have answered the demands of the times, is far behind the means, and aflbrds but a slight accommoda- tion for the intercourse, of the present day. The Cumberland road has greatly increased the facility of communication ; still, however, these channels are altogether insufficient for the great and constantly augmenting trade, which is pressing against both sides of the Allegany mountains, like contrary tides seeking to ihingle their waters. The state of Ohio, bordering on Lake 8 Internal Improvements. [Jan. Erie, which now no longer has its only outlet through Lake On- tario and the protracted St Lawrence, but finds itself gently conducted down the slope of intervening country into the Hud- son, naturally turns to New York, for many or most of its ex- ternal supplies. Indiana, from somewhat similar local causes, may look to the same market. But populous and growing states south of Ohio, and even a part of the state of Ohio it- self, naturally seek the Atlantic states through the Allegany ridge, and must form such a connexion with them. Their trade cannot he lured down the Mississippi, merely by the facilis descensus, the easiness of the descent; there is a shrewd- ness in mercantile calculation, which takes into account the dif- ficulties and tediousness of the return, hoc opus, ldc labor est. Steam navigation has greatly accelerated the upward voyage; still, however, there are many months in the year, when the Ohio and its tributaries are nearly innavigable, from the lowness of their waters. if, in estimating the importance of this central communica- tion, we extend our views beyond the season of peace, and re- gard its utility under many of the vicissitudes, to which a nation is subjected, we shall find that there can be no work in our country, so absolutely essential to its welfare. We have been involved in wars, and may be involved in them again. Under such a calamity, the commerce of the Gulf of Mexico, being the most tangible, would probably b3 the first to suffer, and the sup- ply of the West, by the way of New Orleans, might be in a great measure cut off. And if the hostility were with Great Britain, which shares with us the dominion over Lake Erie, even the New York chain of connexion with the West might be severed. But the proposed canal through the Allegany ridge, running through the heart of the country, will open a secure and almost intangible avenue for commercial intercourse, not only with the states conterminous with that ridge, but with the whole western country. And-as soon as the proposed canal navigation along the seaboard shall be completed, this intercourse may embrace nearly the whole maritime frontier. There -can have been little or no question, during some years past, that the trade, which naturally passes across the Allegany mountains, is sufficient to repay, in due time, the expense of constructing the proposed canal. Satisfactory calculations have been made, which show that the transportation already moving slowly and heavily to and from the West, through this course. 1827.] Internal Improvements. 9 would yield a toll, equal to the interest of a sum quite adequate to complete such a work. And the same calculations go to prove, that the probable difference in the cost of the transporta- tion would be as one to twenty. The only questions then ap- pear to be, Can the means be obtained? and, Where is the most eligible route? We confidently trust, that the means, as they exist in the country, will be forthcoming, as soon as the surveys shall have definitively settled upon the best route. The practicability of the route has already been satisfactorily deter- mined, and where any doubt remains, as to part of the course, it arises only from the difficulty of selecting the best out of many. We cannot follow the Board through all the scientific and minute details of their Report. There appears to be no alter- native, as to the course of the canal from tide water to the sum- mit level, and that it must necessarily conform to the windings of the Potomac, which has sought out and followed down the only line of declivity, in that section, wbich runs from that eleva- tion to the base of the mountains. In one instance, it has broken through a barrier, which the labor of man might vainly have attempted to surmount or remove. The passage of the confluent streams of the Potomac and the Shenandoah, through the Blue Ridge, so graphically described by Mr Jefferson, in his Notes on Virginia, is familiar to every reader. There can be no greater triumph of science, tban the calmness and cer- tainty with which it traces up its plan through this formidable gap, unless it be the consummation of the work, when we shall behold a regulated stream, gliding imperturbably along the rugged and precipitous banks of a powerful river, which rushes over the prostrate mountains in all the wildness of the elements unchained. On attaining ~he summit level, many routes to the head waters of the Monongahela present themselves, all of which, that hold out any promise, have been surveyed with skilful minuteness. The Board sum up their remarks on these various routes, with the observation, that the important advantages of a greater sup- ply -of water, by a length shorter by nine miles, of a tunnel shorter by two and a half miles, render the Deep Greek route superior to the other; though the final surveys only can settle that point, yet at this stage of our operations we would recom- mend that route in preference. This route is fortyone miles and seven hundred and eighteen yards on the summit level, has von. xxIv.-.--No. 54. 2 10 lnternat Improvements. [Jan~ a tunnel a mile and one third in length, through a ridge two hun- dred and twentyseven feet high, and has a deep cutting of nearly SIX miles. The tunneling required on the other routes, varies from the above amount to more than five miles. It is ascertained that this route has an abundance of water. The total length of the proposed canal, from the tide water of the Potomac to Pittsburg, is computed to be three hundred and fifty miles and a half. The total rise on the eastern side, is computed to be 2296~- feet; the total descent on the western side, at 1540k feet; making an aggregate of rise and descent of 3837 feet, which is the total of lockage. This amount of lock- age is considerably greater, it is believed, than that of any other canal extant. That of the Erie canal is small in comparison. The tunnel, however, is but little more than a third as long as the Huddersfield tunnel in England. * * We indulged a hope, throughout the session of 18256, that the Board of Engineers would be able to lay before Congress a definitive report on the subject of the Chesapeake and Ohio canal; but it ap- pears from the report of the committee on roads and canals, presented to the House of Representatives just before its adjournment, that the Board, with every effort, had not been able to prepare the estimates, & c. iu time for that session. As this report of the committee furnishes some facts and details, which were not embraced in the Report of the Board of Engineers, we shall append such as throw new light upon the proposed course of the canal, and which further illustrate its com- mercial advantages. It will be observed that the last report of the Board, designates the Deep Creek route, as being, according to existing surveys, the most elig- ible route by which to pass the summit leve]. The report of the commit- tee says, that, since the report of the Board of Internal Improvement, further surveys have been made, resulting in the discovery of a new summit level, for the canal, between Casselman river and Wells Creek, where an ample supply of water is said to exist, and to which, should it be found necessary, the whole of the supply of the Deep Creek summit might be transferred by a feeder. This new summit ~ nearly four hun- dred feet lower than that of Deep Creek, and about tweutysix miles nearer from Cumberland to the Yougheogany. This important saving of lockage andilistance, gives the Casselman route a decided preference, though it will require a tunnel of greater length than the other. Another strong argument in favor of this route is derived from the considera- tion, that if approaches within a very short distance of the waters of the Juniatta, by which, in the opinion of an experienced engineer, who has examined the country, a connexion may be formed with the Chesapeake and Ohio canal, so as to obtain the great object of uniting Pittsburg and Philadelphia. Our limits do not allow us to make other extracts from this valuable report, than the following, which, while it exhibits the extent of the 1827.] Internal Improvements. 111 The next work presented in order in the Report is, the 0/do and Erie canal. This canal is an indispensable link in the chain of navigation which is to connect the various parts of our country together. Without it, the geographical separation of of the region of the Lakes from the heart of the country, would be almost as distinct as ever. The survey of this route was not completed in all its details ; but the Board deemed themselves warranted, from the facts ascertained, to report, that a canal from Pittsburg to Lake Erie is not only practicable, but offers no difficu~ies from the nature of the soil, and will be amply provided with water for its navigation. After ascending the Big Beaver, a tributary of the Ohio, three routes to Lake Egie present themselves, differing in length from a hundred and f6ur to a hundred and thirteen miles, the full distance from Pittsburg to that lake. A fourth route runs up the valley of the Allegany river, a hundred and forty miles in length. The greatest height above Lake Erie, in any of them, is 470 feet, and the greatqst amount of lockage, 773 feet. The harbors on the south side of Lake Erie, formed by the mouths of rivers, into one of which it is proposed to conduct this canal, are subject to the disadvan- trade which crosses the Allegany ridge, at the same time shows the comparative disadvantages it has to encounter. Some idea of the commercial advantages of this work may be formed, when the fact is stated, that the transportation of merchandise for the supply of the Western states to Pittsburg in one year, has amounted to one and a half million of dollars, and that the amount car- ried to Wheeling, and other towns on the Western waters, and wag-. oned on through Ohio, at dry seasons, must have exceeded this amount; most of those wagons had also return loads of agricultural produce, which, with the amount carried by farmers and others, would probably nearly equal the transportation westward, and should it amount to only half, still it would appear that the country sustains a tax for transportation, of four of five millions a year; whereas, if this merchandise were waterborne on canals, the cost would be reduced to less than half a million; the difference in cost being estimated as 10 to 1; though the usual estimate has been as 20 to 1. Besides, the construction of the canal (as in New York) would more than double the quantity of trade and commerce; thus the whole cost of the canal would be saved to the country in a few years, yielding, at the same time on the stock invested, a profit of 6 or 8 per cent. to the govern- ment, more than the amount of interest accruing on the national debt, which the national creditors are anxious should be paid, and also re- turning to the people a portion of the money paid by them into the treasury, to promote and cherish industry, trade, commerce, and man- ufactures, and these profits and advantages, of course, increasitig with the increasing growth and population of the country. Internal improvements. [Jan. tages of a sand bar at their outlets. But means may be de- vised to remove this obstruction. An experiment is already making at Erie (which has the same disadvantage, though not the mouth of a river), under the direction of an officer of the corps of engineers. This canal, with the more western canal, which is intended to connect the Sciota with Lake Erie, and which has already been begun by the state of Ohio, will open two communications between these great geographical depart- ments of the country, from which incalculable benefits may be anticipated, of a political and commercial, as well as~f a mili- tary nature. It is only necessary to call to mind the difficulties which were encountered during the late war, in sustaining the campaigns on the lake frontier, through the want of artificial facili- ties of this kind, in order to appreciate their extreme importance and necessity. We shall not probably much exaggerate, if we as- sert, that the excess of expenses, during the several campaigns in that quarter, which arose from this deficiency, would have defrayed the whole cost of the two canals we have been commenting on. The next work, of a primary character, exhibited in the Re- port, is the Delaware and Raritan canal. This canal proposes to connect the waters of New York harbor with those of the Delaware river. It will be about forty miles long, and of suf- ficient dimensions to receive bay vessels, that is, such vessels as carry on the commercial intercourse between New York, Phila- delphia, and other cities. The face of the country, through which it is to run, will admit of one level, without any very deep or expensive cutting, from nearly tide water to tide water, hav- ing a series of locks at each extremity, descending into the Ra- ritan on one side and the Delaware on the other.* * The Delaware and Chesapeake canal, which forms another link in this chain of internal navigation, connecting the Delaware river with the Chesapeake Bay, having already been commenced, did not come within the operations of the Board. This important work, which was undertaken and is continued under the authorities of Delaware and Maryland, is of the same dimensions as the Delaware and Raritan canal, and extends the same commercial intercourse from Philadel- phia to the more southern cities, as is intended between Philadelphia and New York. According to the statement made by a member of the Senate on the floor of Congress, one hundred pieces of cannon were, during the late war, transported across the neck of land severed by the canal, at the immoderate expense of more than $450 apiece This canal will be fourteen miles long, and lined with stone. During the last session of Congress, the general government was authorized to 182 Internal Intprovernents. 13 The next work presented in the Report, is, the Buzzards and Barustable bay canal. By this canal it is proposed to sever, oear the main land, the isthmus of Cape Cod, which, projecting i~s sandy arm far into the sea, interposes a most inconvenient barrier between the coasting of the North and the South. The deep interest, which Massachusetts and the states north of her feel in this long desired communication, induces us to entet somewhat into the details of the Board, that the nature and practicability of the work may he understood. We would first remark, that the Board, after satisfactory surveys, reject the route by Barnstable and Hyannis harbor. The Report then proceeds; A canal to communicate between Buzzards and Barnstable hays, should follow successively from west to east the valleys of Monument aud Scussit rivers. That route was surveyed in 1318 by Mr L. Baldwin, at the individual expense of Messrs Israel Thorndike, Thomas H. Perkins, and other gentlemen of Boston. Its total length is about eight miles. At its western extremity, the tide rises in Buzzards bay, from five feet to five feet three inches. At its eastern extremity, it rises in Barustable bay, from ten feet to ten feet four inches, and three hours and a half later than in the other. Thus the medium of tide water in Barnstable hay, is probably about on a level ~vith high tide water in Buzzards bay; the level of low water in the latter, was, on the eleventh of September, 1818, eight inches and six tenths higher than in Barustable bay. As the tide ascends three or four miles in Monument river and about two miles in Scussit river, this route extends only two or three miles from the head of one tide to the head of the other. The highest point of intervening ground is thirtythree feet and a third above low water in Barnstable bay, and twentythree and a half above high tide. Thus nature has left little to do to unite the two bays. The Board have determined, that sufficient harbors may be made at each extremity, by using the advantage which iature has afforded, without difficulty, or any great expense; and that the soil, through which it is to he cut, presents no insur modntable obstacles. The scarcity of water for feeders, offers, in the opinion of the Board, no choice, but to cut the canal on subscribe for 1500 shares ($300,500) in the stock of this canal, which furnishes sufficient means to complete the work with all practicable ~1espatch. 14 internal Inprovement~. [Jan. one level from one bay to the other, to be fed by the tide of Barnstable hay, and provided with a tide lock at each end. Its bottom xviii be at least eight feet and a half below the neap tides, or nine and a half below the common tides in the bay. The Board sum up their opinion on this work, in the following encouraging terms. This short analysis proves, that the prac- ticability of the Buzzards and Barustable canal does not admit of a doubt, and that its construction will meet with no serious obstacle. The expense will not be great, if we compare it xvith that of the Delaware arid Chesapeake canal, which extends fourteen miles in length, and requires a deep cut of three miles, throu~h a ri(Ige which rises cightyfour feet above tide water, and seventysix feet above its summit level. The maximum cost of this last canal has been valued at $1,354,364. The last work presented in the Report, is the Taunton and Weymouth canal. The surveys of this route were not so com- plete, as to enable the Board to pronounce upon its practicability. There can be no doubt of the importance of this short and direct communication between Boston and Narraganset bay. It would be a great facility to our coasting trade in time of peace, and it would be almost indispensable to its security in time of war, as the communication by the way of the Cape Cod canal, might easily be interrupted by an enemy powerful at sea. This canal would likewise form an essential subsidiary to the maritime de- fences, erecting at and near Newport. We cannot better close the foregoing remarks, than by adopt- ing the summary, with which the distinguished members of the Board conclude their Report. As to the general results obtained by this expedition, they are as favorable as possible to the great object in contemplation; opening a system of communication to unite all the sections of the Republic by the bonds of commercial intercourse, and rapid mutual aid in time of danger, This system will contribute essen- tially to the great end of rendering the means of our government more efficient; for, by reducing the time necessary for communi- cation, it will reduce in fact, the great distances which divide the sections of our vast empire from each other, and will enable us easily and promptly to transfer the means and produce of one climate to another; it will give a new value to the agricultural amid mineral riches of our soil, and a new life and activity to our manufacturing industry, by facilitating their circulation. Without a free and constant circulation, the political, as well as human body becomes paralyzed and benumbed in its operations. 1827.] Internal Improvements. 15 We havc made use of the title which stands second at the head of this article, merely to authorize a more general notice of the various improvements by canals, which have been finished, begun, or projected in this country within a few years, than would naturally fall within the scope of the foregoing remarks. The information connected with this interesting subject, lies scat- tered through so many documents, as to render any complete or satisfactory view of it almost impossible. We can hardly re- gret this deficiency, as more ample materials would only embar- rass us with a choice of difficulties, either to lay before our read- ers a naked list, or to omit many important notices. We shall, therefore, content ourselves at this time, with referring to such only, as have been regarded as of national importance, and one or two others, which, although exclusively the works of individ- ual states, nevertheless, from their probable influence on the gen.. eral prosperity of large portions of the country, and from the fact of their not being fully known to the public, demand partic- ular mention. The Journal of the last session of Congress, exhibits the awakened and zealous spirit of improvement, which pervades nearly the whole Union. The applications for surveys, for the purpose of ascertaining the resources and natural advantages of the country, which may be rendered subservient to this great end, were presented from all quarters, and urged on the most enlight- ened and liberal principles. In considering these applications, the only question seemed to be, xvhether they referred to improve- ments of a national, rather than a local character; and when- ever determined to be of the former, we believe the surveys were uniformly directed to be made. Among the propositions of this kind early presented to Con- gress the last session, was that of making a survey of a route for a canal between the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico; to which was reported an amendment, proposing to extend the sur- vey from the Appalachicola or the Suwany west, through the bays of St Andrexvs, Santa Rosa, Pensacola, Perdido, Mobile, and Pascagoula, and through lakes Borgue and Pontchartrain, to the Mississippi, by the iberville or the canal Carondelet. This amendment was urged upon the alleged fact, that about three hundred and fifty miles of inland navigation may be effected be- tween these txvo points, by removing small obstructions at a few points, and the cutting of twelve miles. This important and extraordinary natural facility for inland navigation, along a coast. 16 Internal Improvements. [Jan. appears to rest, at present, upon the authority of the delegate from Florida, confirmed, prohahly, hy an inspection of the maps, which certainly present appearances the most favorable to its truth. It is undouhtedly worthy of investigation, and we hope the surveys corrohorate the most sanguine anticipations; though we cannot altogether repress a douht, whether, on such an alluv- ial and, as we understand, such a sandy coast, the shores of these intervening necks of land will he found so bold, and washed by inlets so deep, as to render little other labor necessary, than to excavate the dry land apparent on the maps. But, however desirable this continuation of the inland naviga- tion to the Mississippi may be, to considerable portions of our country; yet we conceive the original proposition, having in view merely the connexion of tbe Atlantic with the Gulf of iXiex- ico, by severing the Peninsula of Florida, to be of incomparably greater importance. This latter project is recommended by many probable natural facilities; such as a flat country, inland waters. and a soil apparently favorahle for excavation, besides the impor- tant commercial considerations which are involved in its success. The United States present a long frontier upon the Gulf of Mexico; and the Mississippi sends down into it a trade, which may increase to an incalculable degree. And most of this trade, before it can reach the Atlantic, which is the great bighway of commerce, has to make a voyage, protracted, perplexed, and beset with perils. Neither can we rate too highly the political importance of such an intersection of this circuitous and hazard- ous navigation. The narrow channel between Cuba and the Florida cape, affording the most direct and feasible outlet of the Gulf, gives to the nation occupying that island a potential control over that part of our commerce, which should be witbdrawn if possible. Nothing short of necessity, of an absolute inability to conduct it into the Atlantic by a more independent passage, should persuade us to submit to the present condition of things, which, by bringing us so immediately in contact with a foreign power, subjects the nation constantly to the liability of misunderstand- ings and war. It would be useless to speculate upon the probable success of the work, until the proper surveys have been made. It is to be hoped, that our most ardent expectations may be fulfilled, and particularly that the practicability of a ship channel (less than which would not serve the great purposes of commerce) may be satisfactorily determined. Some instances of such magnificent 1827.] Internal Im~provem~ents. 17 canals have been cited, as an encouragement to the undertaking; such as the Caledonian canal, connecting the Forth and Clyde; and the great ship canal of Holland. There can be no harm in stimulating ourselves to enterprise, by contemplating these suc- cessful exertions of other countries; and wih our present con- fidence in the skill and investigating activity of the corps, to which is entrusted these preliminary surveys, we feel no apprehensions of being induced to commence any work, the practicability of which, founded upon actual examination, and not upon foreign examples, has been fully ascertained. While the Florida neck may possess a soil very favorable for excavation, and embrace large reservoirs of water, either already lengthened out into natural canals, or in the shape of lagoons, seemingly ready to pour their waters into such artificial channels as may be con- structed near them; and is so level as scarcely to impose the necessity of a deep cutting throughout the whole distance; yet, perhaps, this very levelness, which holds out such promise to superficial observation, may be found, upon scientific and se- vere investigation, to present obstacles not easy to be surmounted. The Caledonian canal terminates in bold and deep estuaries, and is fed through its course by copious streams, which are lifted up, by the inequalities of the country, above the level of the canal; and are easily conducted into it. While the Hilder canal, from the nature of the country, Where the broad ocean leans against the land, is amply supplied with water by the tides, which pass through its outer locks, as if regaining a part of their old dominion. The Florida canal may find a favorable embouchure on the Gulf side, in Vacassa bay, or elsewhere; but the Atlantic coast does not hold out such flattering promises. Early in March the attention of Congress was called to the Dismal Swamp canal, which, although almost coeval with the federal government, has not heretofore attracted much notice. This canal, as it now stands, is twentytwo miles and a half in length, thirtycight feet wide on the surface, and five feet and a half deep. It connects Hampton roads, by Elizabeth river at one end, and Pasquotank river at the other, with Albemarle and Pamplico sounds, which stretch along nearly the whole front of North Carolina, and receive many of her most important riv- ers. As soon as the great chain of internal navigation engaged the attention of the general government, this canal was deter- VOL. xxIv.No. 54. 18 Internal lmjprovements. [Jan. mined to be aii indispensable link; and, accordingly, when appli- cation was made to Congress to empower the general govern- ment to subscribe for stock in the company, to an amount suffi- cient to enable it to lengthen the canal, and give it a more perfect connexion with the Southern sounds, a bill was presented (which finally passed), granting the requisite authority. The present depth of the canal must probably be increased, to fulfil the pur- poses of the grant; at least so much as to reader it suitable for receiving the craft common to the Southern sounds. The Dis- mal Swamp, through which this canal is cut, was formerly re- garded as one of those Serbonian bogs, those impenetrable fast- nesses of nature, which seemed to defy the encroaching power of man. But the hardy enterprise of Virginia has laid open its dark recesses, and has long been drawing from its inexhaustible stores the most valuable materials for commerce.* it would be somewhat premature at this time to take further notice of the many surveys authorized by the last Congress. They are merely in an incipient state, and may afford subjects for more extended and interesting remarks hereafter. Although not particularly led to it by the documents before us, we could not excuse ourselves if we were to overlook, in con- nexion with this subject, the Ohio canal, which is intended to unite, by the Scioto and Cayahoga rivers, the Ohio river with Lake Erie. This great project, like its parent enterprise, the New York canal, is the exclusive work of the state through which it runs. Ohio, whose existence can scarcely be said to reach back into the last century, now feels such confidence in her resources, as to undertake this great work, which, by con- necting the noble river which washes her southern border, with the broad lake which spreads along the whole extent of her northern boundary, will offer to her inhabitants the option of seeking a market, with equal facility, through the St Law- rence, the New York canal, or the Mississippi. This trans- verse communication xvill make this great privilege, which is now but partially enjoyed, almost common and interchangeable. It was begun, with much interesting ceremony, on the fourth of July, 1825, and is already in rapid progress. it has tx~o sum- mit levels, is to be three hundred and six miles and a half long, forty feet wide, and four feet deep, with an ascent of six hundred * For other particulars respecting the Dismal Swamp canal, see North American Review, Vol. XII. p. 30. 1827.1 Internal Improvements. I 9 and thirtycight feet, and a descent of five hundred and fortyseven feet; the estimate of the cost, $2,800,OOO.* Too much credit cannot be given to this young, but wealthy and enterprising state, whose forecast sees nothing appalling in a debt, xvhich stands vested in substantial and permanent improvements; such as, upon every probable calculation, will in time repay itself, and leave the privileges created by it, to be used almost as cheaply as the common bounties of the earth. The last xvork of internal improvement which we shall notice, is, the national road, from the city of Washington to Nexv Or- leans, a report upon which was presented to Congress in April, 1826. The communication from the seat of government with all the states north and east, and along the Atlantic states south, being through the old states, all populous and highly cultivated, is sufficiently free and unobstructed to serve all national, as well as local purposes. But the western states were long sepa- rated from the eastern by the Allegany ridge ; over which, how- ever, there now runs a great road, constructed by the general government. Until within a few years, it extended only to Wheeling, merely facilitating the pass~e of the mountains ; but, agreeably to a compact with the Ndrthwestern states, it is now in progress through Ohio, and will doubtless be carried, in due time, through Indiana and Illinois to the Mississippi. There was still another avenue, to lead from the seat of goverm ent directly to New Orleans, which having its course, for a great portion of the distance, through districts of coinparatively sparse population, or entirely unsettled, but connecting a most impor- taut extremity of the Union with the common centre, had long demanded the aid of the general government. Accordingly, when the primary objects of the act of the thirtieth of April, 1824 were to be determined by the Executive, it appears, by the letter of Mr Calhoun, before cited, that this great southwest- ern communication was among th~ most prominent. No lan- guage of our own could urge the utility and necessity of this national road, with the force they assume in Mr Calhouns letter already quoted. Indeed, there appears to be no question, as to * For the above facts relating to this canal we are indebted to a manuscript account of the canals in the United States by an intelli- gent gentleman, who has been intimately connected with many of the works of internal improvement, and whose account, in a more en- larged state, we should gladly see presented to the public. 20 Internal bnprovemencs. LJaii. the propriety and urgency of the measure; and the difficulty seems to be only in the selection of the route. By the Report of the Board of Engineers, we observe that three routes have been investigated, and are set forth with all their advantages and disadvantages, positive and relative, leaving Congress to determine xvhich route is entitled to the preference. The eastern route passes through the capitals of the southern Atlantic states, crossing the main rivers, that flow from the Alle- ganies through those states, below their falls, and where the sloop navigation terminates. The probable length of this route is 1136 miles. The middle route crosses the same rivers as the eastern route, but above their falls, at what may be called the head of boat navigation, following the foot of the Alleganies as far as they extend. The probable length of this route is 1106 miles. The western route crosses the Blue Ridge, and proceeds towards the sources of the Shenandoah, intersecting the head branches of the James, Roanoke, and Great Kenhawa rivers, and afterwards striking the Tennessee and Hewassee. The probable length of this route is 1140 miles. The Report says, the middle route and the western route are about equally provided with materials, haxing much the advantage of the east- ern route in this respect. The western route requires fewer bridges and less length of causeway than the other two routes, but will be graduated with more expense. We should infer, however, from the report, that the aggregate expense of con- struction will be the least upon the western route. The following summary presents the principal conclusions to which the Board xvas led; namely, Commerce. The eastern route will enjoy the exclusive ad- vantage of facilitating the commercial correspondence between our inland importing and exporting marts. The middle and western will contribute more than the eastern, to the develop- ment of internal commerce and industry. Accommodation of population. The eastern and middle routes will accommodate directly more states than the western; but, taking into view, and by anticipation, the increase of popula- tion, perhaps the three routes ought to be placed upon the same footing. Political considerations. The eastern route has the advan- tage to pass by the seats of government of the southern states; the western, to cross the chain of mountains which separates the western from the southern states. 1827.] internal Improvements. 21 War. Through the western route, greater and more efficient assistance will be afforded, in times of emergency, to the states and naval establishments upon the Gulf, than through the other routes. Transportation of the mail. As to time, we are inclined to believe that the middle route has the advantage over the others; as to expense, it will be less upon the middle, and especially upon the western, than upon the eastern; as to horses, the service of the mail will be better and more cheaply secured upon the middle route, and especially upon the western, than upon the eastern. We have thus endeavored to present a rapid sketch of the more prominent projects for internal improvement, which have engaged the attention of the general government during the last few years. Some steps have been taken, with respect to all of them. Those to which the aid of the general government has been extended in the way of subscriptions, were mostly already in a state of advancement; and this aid has been granted with the understanding, that it is sufficient to complete them. In the other cases, preliminary surveys only have been author- ized, which are either finished, or will be soon. All these sur- veys have been made, or are making, under the superintendence of persons officially responsible to the nation, of acknowledged skill and experience, and having valuable reputations to main- tain; and we believe that public confidence may safely repose on their correctness. They will enable the competent authori- ties to determine, with the most satisfactory precision, the prac- ticability and probable cost of each work, and to commence it with every reasonable assurance of success. With respect to the general sentiment of the nation, we are inclined to think it is in harmony with the liberal and national spirit in which these projects have originated; and we moreover believe, that they all will ultimately be accomplished, and with- out disturbing the chartered rights of any state, or embarrassing the resources of the country. The age is advancing in im- provements, and the United States, with their moral and intel- lectual attainments, cannot lag behind it. The impulse is irre- sistible, and must be yielded to. A nation, which regulates its own government, granting or withdrawing power according to its own free will, cannot quietly sit down under restraints, which impair its strength, comforts, and dignity. 22 Internal Improvements. [Jan. The constitutional doctrine, to the extent laid down in Mi Monroes Message to Congress on the third of December, 1823, when recommending to its attention the Chesapeake and Ohio canal, appears now to be settled, at least so far as repeated de- cisions of the general government, founded upon large and in- creasing majorities of Congress, can establish it. And it will be recollected that Mr Monroe, in conformity with the opinions of Mr Madison, was an advocate of only a restricted power in the general government over internal improvement. The pas- sage to which we would call attention is the following; Believ- ing, as I do, (says Mr Monroe) that Congress possess the right to appropriate money for such a national object [alluding to the Chesapeake and Ohio canal], the jurisdiction remaining with the states through which the canal would pass, I submit it to your consideration, & c. Greater latitude of power is contended for by a respectable and growing party in Congress; but even under this qualified grant, we should anticipate no impediment to the ex- ecution of the various improvements which have been proposed. The national road to New Orleans, will doubtless be the exclus- ive work of the general government. There are no apparent inducements for either states or corporate companies to under- take it. It is for general and not local purposes, and naturally falls under that provision of the constitution, which relates to the transportation of the mail. The Cumberland road, so far as it extended at first, must be regarded in the same light, and al- though its continuation through the Northwestern states, may ap- pear only a fulfilment of the compact with those states, yet it must likewise be considered as fulfilling the same important pro- vision of the constitution. Until that great avenue was opened, it could not be said, that the Western states enjoyed those facili- ties of communication with the seat of government, which they had a right to claim under the constitution, and which the gen- eral welfare demanded. Nor can it with more reason be said, that the Southwestern states, separated as they are from the com- mon centre by unsettled and almost impassable districts, enjoy those mail privileges, which they are entitled to under the con- stitution, and which the public interest requires should be ex- tended to every important section of the Union. The Chesapeake and Ohio canal has already the highest sanc- tion of every state through which it will pass; and the aid of the general government has been invited by all of them. Sub.. scription books have been opened by a company, the joint cor 1827.] Winthrops History of New England. 23 poration of three states, and the district of Columbia; and as soon as the surveys and estimates are completed, there will be wanting nothing but the determination of the general government as to the amount of that aid, to give a beginning to the great un- dertaking. Should the continuation of this canal to Lake Erie, through Ohio, be likely to encounter opposition from the inter- ests of that state, so largely vested in its own parallel work, it is probable that an equally eligible route will he ascertained, by the surveys, to exist within the limits of Pennsylvania. But we have not space for further enlargement on this sub- ject; more especially for the reflections which crowd on the mind, while contemplating it. The bounties of nature are lav- ishly spread around us; but it is known, that the skill and indus- try of man can improve them a thousand fold. There is a wisdom, a grandeur, in the policy, which would give the strong- est impulse, the highest direction, to this skill and industry; and we should feel the deepest regret, nay, our pride in our country would be humbled, if we believed that its institutions, instead of being compatible with this beneficent policy, had a tendency to repress and crush it. In regard to national and state rights, we believe no course of policy could produce a more just balance be- tween them. Those measures, which efficaciously tend to make the whole thriving, powerful, and united, cannot but ben- efit every part. ART. 11.The History of New England from 1630 to 1649; by JOHN WINTHROP, first Governor of the Colony of Alas- sachusetts Bay; from hzs Original .Manuscrtpts. With Notes to illustrate the Civil and Eccieniastical Concerns, the Geography, Settlement, and Institutions of the Country, and the Lives and .Manners of the principal Planters. By JAMEs SAVAGE. 2 vols. 8vo. Boston. Phelps & Farnham. TILL within a few years, the history of our own country was the last object which engaged the attention of American scholars. The study of that history formed no part of our system of edu- cation either at school or at college, and the voluntary perusal of it at a subsequent period of life, was considered the business of a mere antiquary rather than of a well informed American ciii-

1827.] Winthrops History of New England. 23 poration of three states, and the district of Columbia; and as soon as the surveys and estimates are completed, there will be wanting nothing but the determination of the general government as to the amount of that aid, to give a beginning to the great un- dertaking. Should the continuation of this canal to Lake Erie, through Ohio, be likely to encounter opposition from the inter- ests of that state, so largely vested in its own parallel work, it is probable that an equally eligible route will he ascertained, by the surveys, to exist within the limits of Pennsylvania. But we have not space for further enlargement on this sub- ject; more especially for the reflections which crowd on the mind, while contemplating it. The bounties of nature are lav- ishly spread around us; but it is known, that the skill and indus- try of man can improve them a thousand fold. There is a wisdom, a grandeur, in the policy, which would give the strong- est impulse, the highest direction, to this skill and industry; and we should feel the deepest regret, nay, our pride in our country would be humbled, if we believed that its institutions, instead of being compatible with this beneficent policy, had a tendency to repress and crush it. In regard to national and state rights, we believe no course of policy could produce a more just balance be- tween them. Those measures, which efficaciously tend to make the whole thriving, powerful, and united, cannot but ben- efit every part. ART. 11.The History of New England from 1630 to 1649; by JOHN WINTHROP, first Governor of the Colony of Alas- sachusetts Bay; from hzs Original .Manuscrtpts. With Notes to illustrate the Civil and Eccieniastical Concerns, the Geography, Settlement, and Institutions of the Country, and the Lives and .Manners of the principal Planters. By JAMEs SAVAGE. 2 vols. 8vo. Boston. Phelps & Farnham. TILL within a few years, the history of our own country was the last object which engaged the attention of American scholars. The study of that history formed no part of our system of edu- cation either at school or at college, and the voluntary perusal of it at a subsequent period of life, was considered the business of a mere antiquary rather than of a well informed American ciii- 24 Winthrops history of New England. zen. This neglect of so important a subject certainly redounded little to our credit, and has been condemned by many as a sure and strong indication of a want of patriotism. We ascribe it to a very obvious and much less censurable cause, the character of those works in which our own history is written. As these are much more remarkable for accuracy and impartiality, than for elegance of style and philosophical research, the general and un- discriminating neglect, with which they have been treated, though far from justifiable, is, on the whole, not surprising. These re- marks, which are not to be understood without qualification or exception, may be applied particularly to our colonial history. The 19th of April 1775 seemed to be often considered as the birthday of our nation, not only in many, but in all respects, and our condition before that period was regarded as a state of pre- existence. It is only of late, that we have learned to trace our present free and happy condition, to its remote as well as its proximate causes, to acknowledge our obligations not only to the statesmen and soldiers, who conducted the war of independence, but to those sages from whom we derived the principles, institu- tions, and habits, which render independence desirable. Of all the tribes of hardy adventurers, who laid the founda- tion of our widely extended nation, there are none who have been alike censured and applauded with so little discrimination, as the pilgrim fathers of New England. Their characters have been sometimes held up as models of almost supernatural excellence, but they have more generally been depicted in far different col- ors; and there were many among us who seemed to be ignorant of almost every event which occurred in Massachusetts during the seventeenth century, except the destruction of the aborigi- nes, the persecution of the Quakers, and the execution of the witches. Slight and vague impressions are now happily giving way to correct and circumstantial knowledge, and the early his- tory of this state is becoming an object of great and constantly increasing interest. A complete and elegant history of Massa- chusetts is yet a desideratum, but the want of such a work has been supplied in no inconsiderable degree, by the ability and elo- quence with which the principles and institutions of the pilgrims have been portrayed in less voluminons productions. Those, however, who would become thoroughly acquainted with the character of our forefathers, must study their works; and we need hardly state the fact, that no men ever left behind them more accurate and impartial accounts of their own conduct. 1827.] Winthrops History of New England. All their actions, even those which are now most condemned and regretted, are narrated with equal unreserve and mi- nuteness; and however we may occasionally lament their preju-. dice or passion, every line of their writings bears indisputable tes- timony to their sincerity and frankness. Among all the works of that period, there is none of a more extraordinary or interest- ing description than the book before us. An exact journal of the first governor of Massachusetts Bay, embracing the history of the country between the years 1630 and 1649, is mani- festly a document so singularly desirable, that, in other countries, and under other circumstances, its authenticity would be sub- jected to no slight suspicion. In this age of literary scepticism, indeed, we know not whether it will even now be universally ad- mitted, and should not be surprised at an elaborate argument from some humble disciple of the school which has argued so strenuously against the existence of Homer, showing that the hook before us is the production not of one, but of a hundred hands, that its supposed author never existed, and that John Winthrop was not the name of an individual, but a general title of all the governors of Massachusetts during the seventeenth cen- tury. As no such question has yet been started, we may be permitted to express our gratification, at seeing the whole of this work presented to the public for the first time in a complete form, and our obligations, shared by the whole community, to its present able and learned editor. The first volume was publish- ed at Hartford, in 1790, from the manuscripts in possession of Governor Winthrops descendants. The manner in which the remaining portion of the work was brought to light, as well as the reasons which led to a revised copy of the whole, will ap- pear in the following extract from Mr Savages Preface. Early in the spring of 1816 was discovered, in the tower of the Old South Church in Boston, the third volume of the History of New England, in the original MS. of the author, John Winthrop, first governor of the Massachusetts Bay. When the precious Izook was presented to the Massachusetts historical Society, at their next meeting, 25 April, the difficulty of transcribing it for the press seemed to appal several of the most competent members, whose engagement in more important duties afforded also a suffi- cient excuse for leaving such labor to be undertaken by any one, at any time, who could devote to it many weeks of leisure. The task appeared inviting to me. On the same evening the MS. was taken, and the study of its chirography was begun, the next day, VOL. XXIv.NO. 54. 4 26 I$ Tintltrojs history of Aew England [Jan. by the aid of one of the former MSS. collated with the printed volume, usually called Winthrops Journal. Of all the three MSS. and of the published Journal, a sufficient account may be seen in 2 list. Coil. IV. 200. Before the collation of the former MS. with the volume printed in 1790 had proceeded through many pages, the discovery of nii- merous important errors seemed to make a new edition of the ear- lier part of the History very desirable; and when a transcript of the new found volume was completed, my resolution was fixed, that it should not be printed without a perfect revision of the Journal. Notes, explanatory, in some instances, of the text, illustrating. in some degree, the biography of many persons named in it, and re- ferring to better accounts of others than I could furnish, were thought necessary. Several hundred notes were prepared, and a careful collation of the whole printed volume, for the second time, with the original volumes of MS. was finished on 2 June, J819. Being then required to visit a foreign country, all my preparations were suspended until I returned. Care, hcwever, was taken to leave the corrected copy of the printed volume, with my copy of the third part, to be kept safely. Again called abroad in 1822, I so carefully disposed of my copy of the third volume, as to leave it in a forgotten place, which afforded me the gratification of ma- king a new one, begun 8 December, 1823, and finished 30 March, 1824. This circumstance admonished me of the propriety of adopting early measures for guarding against farther accidents of that kind. Application was made, at the next session of the Gen- eral Court of this commonwealth, by the Historical Society, for encouragement of the publication. In consequence of the liberal aid of the Legislature, the volume comes thus early before the public. Mr Savage afterwards informs us, that the original manuscript will remain in the library of the Historical Society for his correc- tion by any one, who doubts of the faithfulness of a single pas- sage. Few we believe will undertake the task, and he has ena- bled us to form some judgment of his amendments, at a much less expense of labor. Whenever he has introduced a new read- ing, he has accompanied it with a note of reference to the cor- responding word or sentence in the first edition, which is inserted at the bottom of the page. Internal evidence is, generally speak- ing, strongly in Mr Savages favor. He has given meaning to many passages, which before bade defiance to explanation, has removed many irreconcilable contradictions, and often substitut- ed plain sense for whimsical absurdity. Who will suppose for 11827.] Winthrops History of New England. 27 example, that Governor Winthrop could say (p. 62) in speaking of a night xvhich he was obliged to pass in the woods, in conse- quence of losing his way, that it was through Gods mercy a weary night instead of a warm night or (p. 80) that one Noddle, an honest man of Salem, was drowned while running wood in a canoe, instead of carrying wood, or lastly (p. 323) that all breeches were made up, and the church saved from ruin beyond all expectation, instead of breaches. In bestowing due praise on the present edition, we would not be understood to speak lightly of the industry or accuracy of the former editor. Independently of the important assistance, which Mr Savage states himself in the above extract to have derived from the printed volume, it rec{uires only a glance at the fcc srm- i/c at the end of the present work, or at a few of the earliest pages of the Town Records of Boston, to satisfy us of the extreme difliculty of reading the handwritin~ of Governor Winthrop and his contem- poraries. It is very different from the ancient Court Hand, so much extolled by Blackstone, and bears a much nearer resem- blance to the writing of scholars of the present day. To those who inspect it for the first time, it will seem less surprising that numerous errors should have been co?nmitted by the first editor, or that he should have given up many passages in despair, than that he should have decyphered so clearly the great body of the work. We are glad to find that Mr Savage has not contented himself with improving on the verbal labors of hi.s predecessor. He has added an Appendix, consisting of a number of authentic letters, and constituting, in our opinion, the most interesting portion of Governor Winthrops writings, and has enriched the work with a large number of original and able notes. The good sense and impartiality of his comments form a singular contrast to the strong and undiscriminatinn attachment, generally shown by edi- tors towards every j)art of those productions, which they have employed their time and talents in illustrating. We would more particularly recommend to the attention of our readers, his argu- ments against the genuineness of the celebrated Wheelwribht deed-of 1629. The whole train of reasoning is a specimen of acute research and powerful logic, but is too long to be inserted in this place. Mr Savages positions have since derived ample confirmation from several manuscript documents xvhich came in- to his possession a few days before the publication of his second volume, and in our opinion he has completely put the question at rest. 28 Winthrops History of New England. [Jan. This work seems to be, in the strict sense of the word, a regu- lar journal begun by Governor Winthrop on board the Arbella at Cowes, March 29, 1630, and ending in the year 1649. It appears from some passages in it, that it was revised and by its autho prepare(I br publication r. Though it certainly deserves the reputation which it has so long and generally enjoy- ed, of being on the whole, a highly interesting work, it contains much that can afford little entertainment to the more general reader, and some passages which the author would probably have omitted had he lived at the piesent day. Many will be surprised at finding such frequent and copious details of ordinary casualties and accidents, which a historian of this age would have passed over in silence. This misplaced mi- nuteness may be ascribed in no inconsiderable degree, to the circumstances under which Governor Winthrop wrote, and the vast difference in many respects between the state of society at that period, and in our own times. At the present day, every breakfast table is loaded with fresh newspapers, and every morn- ing brings its nexv accounts of accidents or casualties, or its tales of wonder or horror, to efihee those of yesterday from our memory. It is only occurrences of real and great importance, that can arrest the attention of a numerous and busy community, any longer than the passing moment. In the days of Governor Win- throp, the inhabitants of Boston were a small and insulated peo- l)le, and newspapers were a late invention even in England. The death of a single individual was felt, as that of a member of a social circle, and the loss of a few valuable aninials was viexved, and not without reason, with the same emotions with which we now look on our most calamitous tempests or conflagrations. The peculiar religious tenets of our forefathers combined with their desolate situation, in giving an extraordinary and solemn interest to every accident which befell any of their asso- ciates. They appear to have carried the doctrine of temporal rewards and l)unisliments further than any religious sect of our own days, to have considered themselves as living not only un- der the constant, but almost under the miraculous care of Provi- deuce, and to have noted down and interpreted every casualty as a direct manifestation of divine displeasure. It may be more difficult to defend the intolerance which is frequently displayed in these volumes, and xvhich is a melancholy indication of the degree in which the author, notwithstanding his naturally mild and benevolent (lisposition, partook of the reigning spirit of his onipanlon. 1827.] Winthrops History of New England. 29 The religious intolerance of our Puritan forefathers is a fault, which it would be worse than useless to deny, and we allow that their constant and manifest consciousness of their own rectitude, furnishes them with only a partial justification. Doubtless there was much of pride and of anger secretly intermingled in their zeal for the prevalence of unmingled truth, and the establish- ment of an immaculate church. We think, however, that in this respect, as in many others, they have been censured with much too little allowance for their peculiar condition and pur- suits. It is well known, that their object was to plant a church and not an empire. They were not merely a religious, hut a theological community; all their thoughts except so far as they were necessarily directed to their own subsistence and security, were absorbed by those duties of which God is not only the author but the object. It was natural, therefore, that disputes on subjects which engrossed the whole intellect and feelings of the community, should be carried on with intense earnestness, and our forefathers were certainly not singular in transgressing the slight boundary, which separates earnestness from passion. In our own days we have seen how far passion and prejudice can be carried, in politics, in times of high excitement, when the vital interests of the nation are considered as depending on the success of this or that party; and what politics were twenty years ago, theology was in 1640. The disputes of par- ties in our own days generally produce no other injury, than the interruption of social intercourse, and the exchange of unkind looks and hard words. Person and property are protected by written constitutions and laws, which, independently of their direct operation, have, by a necessary reaction, strengthened, fortified, and extended in the public mind, those principles of justice and humanity which gave them birth. Above all, the right of trial by jury furnishes a refuge against public and individual oppres- sion, which can never be rendered insecure, till the deepest foundations of society are broken up. Two hundred years ago, the rights of citizens were far less extensive than now, and de- fined with far less precision. Our colonial fathers early claimed and-exercised the power of internal legislation, and though they were forbidden to make any law contrary to the law of England, yet their proceedings were for a long time unchecked and un- noticed by the mother country. They brought with them much of that undue regard to birth and rank, which is now happily effaced by our free and equal systems of government; their pe~ 30 Winthrops History of New England. [Jan. culiar religious feelings and opinions led them to pay to the clergy a degree of deference, of which some faint traces yet linger in the interior of New England; and during many years the government was in fact an aristocracy as despotic as that of Venice. It is no wonder that power so unlimited should have been sometimes abused. The portion of these volumes which will he read with the most unmingled sentiments of disapprohation, is that which de- scribes the fate of the highminded Miantunnomoh, Sachem of the Naragansetts. We certainly think, that the conduct of the Pilgrims towards their savage brethren, though occasionally blemished with crnelty, has been too strongly and indiscrimi- nately censured. The transactions which took place between them during the period embraced in these volumes, are marked on both sides, generally speaking, with justice and kindness. That the settlement of this country, by a foreign and civilized nation, must eventually lead to the dispersion and destruction of the aborigines, was a truth which seems to have heen suspected by Sassacus, the Pequod Sachem, forty years hefore the war of Philip. Happily for us, the savage tribes of New England were, for a long time, too simple and shortsighted in their policy to he aware of this fact in its full force, and too little united among themselves to exert their superior power in overwhelm- ing the colonies in their infancy. It was alike unavoidable, how- ever, that wars should at length arise hetween the English and Indians, and that these should he wars of extermination. Let any one read the history of those times, with an unbiassed mind, and he will he convinced that our fathers had no choice between abandoning this country to the savage hunters, who originally roamed over it, and gaining an entire and exclusive possession of it by the sword. He must he a stanch supporter of abstract theories, who can maintain that they should have adopted the former alternative. But however misplaced we may consider the romantic com- passion, which has heen sometimes bestowed on Sassacus and Philip, the determined and implacahle enemies of the English race and name, we know not what extenuation can he found for the execution of Miantunnomoh. That chieftain had been the early friend of the English, had repeatedly visited the governor at Boston, and when summoned there to answer for his life, on some charges of treachery hrought against him from Connecti- cut, obeyed the mandate and pleaded his cause before the Gen 1827.] Winthrops History of New England. 31 eral Court, observing to his judges that though some had dis- suaded him, assuring him that the English would put him to death, or keep him in prison, yet, he being innocent of any ill intention against the English, he knew them to be so just that they would do him no wrong. He offered to meet his great adversary, the sachem Onkus, at Boston, and prove to his face his treachery against the English. He urged much, that those might be punished who had raised this slander, and put it to our consideration what damage it had been to him, in that he was forced to keep his men at home, and not suffer them to go hunt- ing till he had given the English satisfaction. These reasonable requests were disregarded, but after passing two days at Boston, he established his innocencr~ to the satisfaction of his judges, and was dismissed in peace. The following year proved with how much foundation he had calculated on the justice and liberality of his English allies, in July, 1643, his relative, Sequasson, was attacked by Onkus. Miantunnomoh complained to the English, and requested permission to avenge his kinsmans wrongs. This permission was granted in the fullest and most unequivocal language. Miantunnomoh accordingly attacked Onkus with a superior force, but was defeated, and afterwards delivered up to his rival, by two of his officers. When brought before Onkus he preserved total silence. Onkus demanded the reason. Had you taken me, said he I would have besought you for my life. This the captive chieftain disdained to do. Gorton, of Rhode Island, and his associates then interfered in behalf of Miantunnomoh, their early friend and protector, and demanded his liberation. Onkus carried his captive to Hart- ford to take the advice of the magistrates there, and Miantun- nomoh was delivered, at his own request, into their hands. What follows cannot be better related than in the words of Mr Savage. It cannot be doubted, I presume, that the captive, having in vain pressed the conqueror to put him to death, expected friendship from the English, to which his former services and cent deference gave him no slight claim. The Narragansetts mad& presents to Onkus; by one party these gifts are represented as a reward for delivering his prisoner to the English, hy the other. as a ransom for the life of their sovereign. See governor I-Iaynes fetter to Winthrop, 3 lust. Coil. I. 229. Perhaps the conqueror was persuaded to surrender his prey at Hartford through the in- fluence of Gorton and his associates, for it was at first repo#ted. 32 IVinthrofs History of New England. [Jan. that they sent their letters in the name of the governor of Mas- sachusetts; but as this clause was afterwards struck out by Winthrop, it was probably a false report. Such a deception, for a benevolent purpose, might not be a heavy aggravation of the errors of ignorance, under which those heretics sank. Whatever influence, however, moved Onkus, it seems hardly possible, that he could have anticipated the joyful result of the policy of his teachers in civilization, the deliberation of pious statesmen, by which his captive was restored to his hands, with an injunction to put him to death. A judicial investigation of the case of this sachem should not have been undertaken; but as it xvas, we may look at the grounds of judgment. Trumbull, I. 130, makes part of his offence with- out consulting the English according to agreement. Our au- thors narrative ought to have silenced such a pretence. Little importance need be attached to another allegation, that he had promis~d us in the open court to send to Onkus the Pequod, who had shot him in the arm, yet in his way homeward he killed him; nor indeed to any other part of the doubtful story about the traitorous slave of the i~ioheagan. By the acts of the corn- missioners, JJaz. II. 8, we learn, that it was fully proved, from the Pequods own mouth, that he was guilty, and therefore Mi- antunnomob, if innocent, as our people, before his misfortunes, thought him, might believe his royal promise satisfactorily perform- ed ~y putting to death the assassin, instead of returning him to his master. Perhaps his promise to the English, on this matter was less distinctly understood than it might have been between con- tracting parties of the same language. If Onkus were, however, free from all blame, and the Narragansett chargeable with treach- ery, and every other vice of kings, our rulers had no cognizance of the cause, and their advice to the successful warrior was cruel; but their conduct to Miantunnomob, who had so few years before been their ally against the Pequods, can hardly be regarded as less than a betraying of innocent blood. In the congress of the united ccAonies, ~xhose doings in this behalf are briefly, but fairly, told by our author, its president, and may be seen at large in Haz. II. 1113, it was too hastily, I think, resolved, that it would not be safe to set him at liberty; and as death was the alterna- tive, in their ~vant of counsel and confidence to come to such a shocking resuk, against an unarmed prisoner, who was in amity with them, advice was asked, yet of only five among fifty assem- bled, of the ministers of religion. The fate of Agag followed of course. With profound regret I am compelled to express a suspicion, that means of sufficient influence would easily have been found 1827.] Winthrops History of New England. 33 for the security of themselves, the pacifying of Onkus, and the preservation of Miantunnomoli, had he not encouraged the sale of Shaomet and Patuxet to Gorton and his heterodox associates. This idea had been unwillingly entertained years before I knew the comment of Governor Stephen Hopkins, 2 list. Coil. LX. 202, with which I close this unhappy subject. The savage soul of Uncas doubted, whether he ought to take away the life of a great king, who had fallen into his hands by misfortune; and to resolve this doubt, he applied to the Christian commissioners of the four united colonies, who met at Hartford,* in September, 1644. They were less scrupulous, and ordered Uncas to carry Myantonomo out of their jurisdiction, and slay him; but kindly added, that he should not be tortured; they sent some persons to see execution done, who had the satisfaction to see the captive king murdered in cold blood. This was the end of Myantono- mo, the most potent Indian prince the people of New England had ever any concern with; and thiswas the reward he received for assisting them seven years before, in their wars with the Pe- quots. Surely a Rhode Island man may be permitted to mourn his unhappy fate, and drop a tear on the ashes of Myantonomo, who, with his uncle Conanicus, were the best friends and great- est benefactors the colony ever had. They kindly received, fed, and protected the first settlers of it, when they were in distress, and were strangers and exiles, and all mankind else were their enemies; and by this kindness to them, drew upon themselves the resentment of the neighboring colonies, and hastened the untiine- ly end of the young king.~ Vol. ii. pp. 132134, note. Every one will regret that so few accounts now exist of the domestic customs and modes of living of our ancestors; a fact which results from the obvious circumstance, that every historian writes in the first place for his contemporaries, and therefore passes over such topics, as too familiar to be noticed. There was no Espriella among our forefathers, to admit us into their dwellings, and seat us at their firesides, and give us a complete view of the routine of their daily occupations and recreations. On these subjects we must be contented with scanty and inci- dental hints, a few of which may be gleaned from the work he- fore us. The houses of the first settlers of Boston were gene- rally, as might he expected from the circumstances of the country, extremely simple and unadorned. Wooden chimneys * It should be Boston, 1643, Trumbull, 1. 133, hastily says, the commissioners for Plymouth are not on record this year. Their i~ames are signed to the acts. VOL. XXLX.NO. 54. 5 34 Wsnthrops History of New England. [Jan. were common for many years, and a wainscot of clapboards in the house of the deputy governor was considered a highly cen- surable piece of extravagance. The house of the ladye Moodyc at Salem, a person of high consideration, seems to have closely resembled one of our smallest dwellings, being nine feet high, with a chimney in the centre. The furniture of the early colonists was of a rather different quality. Much of it was brought from England and was of considerable value, forming a strong contrast in this respect to the humble sheds in which it was often deposited. In an inventory of the effects of Mrs Martha Coytemore, Governor Winthrops fourth wife, dated in 1647, we find silk curtains, brass andirons, cheny plates and saucers, and Turkey carpets. Some estimate may be formed of the ordinary expenses of living from a remark in Governor Winthrops account, dated 1634. I was first chosen Governor, he observes, without my seeking or expectation, there being divers other gentlemen, who for their abilities every way were far more fit. Being chosen, I furnished myself with servants, and provisions accordingly, in a far greater proportion than I would have done, had I come as a private man or as an assistant only. In this office I continued four years and near a half, although I earnestly desired at every election to have been freed. In this time I have spent above 500 per annum, of which 200 per annum would have maintained my family in a private condition. There seems to have been no want of luxuries for the table. The country furnished fish and game in abundance, and though, says the Governor, in a letter dated, November the twentyninth, 1630, we have not beef and mutton, yet, God be praised, we want them not, our Indian corn answers for all, an opinion in which, notwithstanding our regard for that highly useful vegetable, we find it difficult to follow him. Groceries were soon brought over in abundance from England, though it will be r~collected that our two most valued articles of that description, tea and coffee, were not then used in Europe. We are told that at a military muster of twelve hundred men in 1641, there was not a man drunk, though wine and strong beer abounded in Boston; and we find that in 1630 the Governor began to discourage the practice of drinking toasts at table. Had he succeeded in abol- ishing it, what racking of invention and rummaging of memory for 1827.] Winthrops History of Yew England. 35 extemporaneous sentiments might have been spared the present generation. The attempts of our ancestors to restrain luxury in dress were altogether unavailing, it is stated, September the eighteenth, 1634, that many laws were made against tobacco, and immodest fashions, and costly apparel; but though such laws were frequent- ly made, we do not recollect that Governor Winthrop mentions any instance in which they were enforced. Our ancestors en- deavored to regulate the spirit of gain, as well as of expense, and with the same eventual success. The prices of labor and of commodities were fixed repeatedly by positive laws, but experi- ence soon proved the utter futility of the project, though not until these laws had been executed in a few instances, especially in the case of Captain Robert Keaine, who was compelled to pay eighty pounds for taking a profit of sixpence and eightpence in the shilling, and in some small instances two for one. The state of morals among our forefathers, and the degeneracy of succeeding generations, have been subjects respectively of eu- logy and lamentation from their day to ours; and we recollect a sermon of Mr Stoughton, published about the middle of the seventeenth century, in which he exclaims with great vehemence, our wine is mixed with water. A close examination of this Journal may satisfy a candid reader, that such remarks are dic- tated in some degree by that veneration for antiquity, and dis- content with the world around us, which are found in all coun- tries and generations. The first colonists of Massachusetts were unquestionably, on the whole, a highly respectable community. Many of them, like the author of this work, were men partaking, like all human beings, of the errors and defects of the age in which they lived, and the society which surrounded them, but men of whom any country would be justly proud. They were among the best specimens of what was then and is now the best class of society in Great Britain, its well educated commoners; men superior perhaps to any of their successors in deep and ex- tensive learning, and second to none for fervent piety, for stern integrity, and disinterested patriotism. But that all the early settlers of New England were of this description, is a supposi.. tion, which, though it sometimes seems to have been taken for granted, is manifestly absurd. There were several of the same stamp with those who find a place in every new country, needy and desperate adventurers, who hoped to find in a remote set- tlement, the subsistence which they were unwilling to procure by 36 [Jan. Winthrops History of New England. honest exertion in their native land. Crimes, even of the most shocking description, sometimes occurred, and many parts of this volume bear a close resemblance to the records of our criminal tribunals at the present day. Besides, there was, even in the more respectable classes of society, a deficiency in refine- ment and delicacy of manners, which proves, more than any thing else, the progress of society since the seventeenth century. What modern audience would endure disclosures like those made by the Rev. Mr Cotton, at a public lecture, in Boston? If, however, we can claim any superiority, as an enlightened and refined community, over our forefathers, let us never forget how much of this preeminence we owe to their wisdom and lib- erality. The erection of the venerable Universities of Harvard and Yale; the adoption to a great degree of those statutes of de- 5cent and distribution, beautifully denominated by Judge Story, the only true and just Agrarian laws, which have utterly oblit- erated the few vestiges of aristocracy which had found a place in our land; the provisions for the support of religion, which combine so happily the interest of the public with the liberty of the individual; and, above all, the introduction of free schools; these great sources of our freedom, our equality, our intellec- tual and moral power, were all established, by the founders of New England, during the first century of its existence. Our fathers were no devotees of ancient prejudices, anxious to exclude every ray of intellectual light which might disclose the defects of their own political and religious systems; no crafty tyrants, laboring to establish the power of the few by perpetuating the ig- norance of the many; no wild fanatics, who thought that divine truth could he only contaminated by the admixture of human learning. They were enthusiasts, indeed, but it was a dignified and generous enthusiasm, an enthusiasm which sought noble ends by noble means; it was their great object to render their posterity a religious, by rendering them an enlightened people. We may smile at the whimsical peculiarities of the Pilgrims, or lament their graver faults, but we shall show little of the boasted liberab ity of the present day, if we can read their annals with no other emotions than these; if we fail to render due homage to their un- wavering singleness of purpose, their unconquerable perseverance, their unquenchable zeal for the dissemination of pure truth, and the prosperity of their adopted country. We close this article, regretting that our limits forbid our ren- derin~ more adequate justice to its venerable author, and its able 1827.] The Wise Men of Got ham. 37 and learned editor; but the character of Governor Winthrop is too well known to need any further commemoration, and we trust that the public will duly appreciate the patriotic zeal, which could lead a gentleman, of Mr Savages abilities and occupations, to undertake a task requiring such patient and minute industry. We hope that his success, in the present instance, will have its due effect in inducing him to continue his important and interest- ing researches. The field, which he has chosen for his peculiar labors, is a true New England soil, unpromising in its aspect to a careless observer, but yielding a rich reward to the skilful and laborious cultivator. ART. 111.The .Merry Tales of the Three Wise Men of Got ham. Edited by the Author of John flull in America. Three Wise Men of Gotham Went to Sea in a Bowl. If the Bowl had been stronger, My Tales had been longer. New York. 1826. G. & C. Carvill. l2mo. pp. 324. OF all the sages of antiquity, whose names have been handed down to our time, none have excited so general a notice, as the three wise men of Gotham. The short fragment of the history of these unfortunate navigators hitherto known to us, which records their lamentable fate, has not beeti the theme of the learned antiquary and studious scholar alone, but is in the mouths of persons of every class, and of all periods of life, from lisping infancy to tremulous old age. Whether this universal interest and sympathy, is to be attributed to the sudden exit of these venerable men; to the extraordinary character of the vessel to which they committed themselves; or to the mysterious brevity of the fragment alluded to, are questions, which, considering the numerous learned disquisitions on less important subjects, we might have expected, would before this, have exercised the inge- nuity of many laborious commentators. This, however, has not been the case, and the history of these distinguished philoso- phers has remained involved in the most profound obscurity up to this time. The documents noticed at the head of this article purport te be the memoirs of these ancient personages. To eon-

1827.] The Wise Men of Got ham. 37 and learned editor; but the character of Governor Winthrop is too well known to need any further commemoration, and we trust that the public will duly appreciate the patriotic zeal, which could lead a gentleman, of Mr Savages abilities and occupations, to undertake a task requiring such patient and minute industry. We hope that his success, in the present instance, will have its due effect in inducing him to continue his important and interest- ing researches. The field, which he has chosen for his peculiar labors, is a true New England soil, unpromising in its aspect to a careless observer, but yielding a rich reward to the skilful and laborious cultivator. ART. 111.The .Merry Tales of the Three Wise Men of Got ham. Edited by the Author of John flull in America. Three Wise Men of Gotham Went to Sea in a Bowl. If the Bowl had been stronger, My Tales had been longer. New York. 1826. G. & C. Carvill. l2mo. pp. 324. OF all the sages of antiquity, whose names have been handed down to our time, none have excited so general a notice, as the three wise men of Gotham. The short fragment of the history of these unfortunate navigators hitherto known to us, which records their lamentable fate, has not beeti the theme of the learned antiquary and studious scholar alone, but is in the mouths of persons of every class, and of all periods of life, from lisping infancy to tremulous old age. Whether this universal interest and sympathy, is to be attributed to the sudden exit of these venerable men; to the extraordinary character of the vessel to which they committed themselves; or to the mysterious brevity of the fragment alluded to, are questions, which, considering the numerous learned disquisitions on less important subjects, we might have expected, would before this, have exercised the inge- nuity of many laborious commentators. This, however, has not been the case, and the history of these distinguished philoso- phers has remained involved in the most profound obscurity up to this time. The documents noticed at the head of this article purport te be the memoirs of these ancient personages. To eon- 38 The Wi.se Men of Got ham. [Jan. vey to our readers a just sense of their important bearing upon the present times, it is necessary to say a few words of the state of the sciences, and of public opinion, in our country at this period. it has no doubt been remarked, that whilst all other parties among men, whether of a religious, political, literary, or any other nature, have come by the force of circumstances, from time to time, to change their character, subside, and amalgam.. ate, the distinction between the ancients and moderns has ever remained the same, sometimes the one, and sometimes the other, claiming to be the superior in acquirements and intelligence. From a very early period, however, there has been this great advantage observable on the side of the ancients, that notwith- standing the moderns had the field to themselves, and might use what arguments they pleased, without the fear of a reply from their opponents, yet sooner or later all the moderns were found to go over to the party of the ancients, whereas no ancient was ever known to become a modern. This circumstance operated so powerfully in favor of the ancients, and by degrees so greatly increased their numbers, that the moderns a long time since, yielded up the victory to them, and freely acknowledged their own inferiority. Insomuch, that, until towards the close of the last century, these last, from generation to generation, have been accustomed, with a praiseworthy modesty, to look back upon their ancestors, who lived centuries before them, as the only genuine source of all wisdom, virtue, and science, and to consider them- selves as mere children, bound to receive, and observe with rev- erence, the information handed down to them from earlier and wiser ages. The obscurity which time threw around the charac- ters and writings of antiquity only served to increase their repu- tation; and the venerable black letter had its just influence, being ever the more respected the less it was understood. But when the great school of children of this Western world, under- took to break their leading strings, and commenced a general barring out of their masters, the froward spirit which led to this act of disobedience carried them on to still greater extravagan- cies, and they began to pretend that they were as wise as their ancestors. This long exploded opinion they supported with such argu- ments as these. That although it could not be denied that the individuals then living, were much younger than their ancestors, who lived a thousand years before, still it was to be recollected, 1827.] The Wise Men of Got ha ~n. 39 that the world was just so much the older; and that inasmuch as a whole is acknowledged to he greater than a part, the expe- rience and knowledge obtained by the world since the existence of their ancestors, added to that of their ancestors themselves, must plainly be somewhat greater than that of the latter taken alone. These and other like arguments operated so powerfully, as soon to bring a majority of people in this country over to that way of thinking, and to a belief that our ancestors were by no means so wise as they had been said to be. The great success and spread of these opinions, at length so inflated the moderns, that they began to lay aside all reserve, and openly to assert, that there was no science, art, invention, or discovery of any consequence which had not originated, within the last fifty years, or heen so improved upon, as that they were justly entitled to the merit of it; the great advancement made in these things, they attributed to the rapid march of mind within that period, and pretended to look upon the first six thousand years of the world as little better than time thrown away. It is, however, in three things particularly, that the moderns boast to have utterly surpassed all that was ever done or thought of in former times, and by which they expect to secure to this age the admiration and gratitude of all future ones. The first of these is the invention of the woman mac/tine, whereby the pro- ductive power of mankind in the making of cottons, kerseys, & c. is increased to a most wonderfnl degree, and the most im- portant parts of female education greatly improved upon. And of this machine the moderns claim to be the original and sole inventors. Secondly, the bringing of the common law to a pitch of perfection, such as was never before imagined to be possible. Thirdly, the introduction and prosecution of the science of phrenology, a science said by knowing men to be fraught with more important consequences to mankind than any other ever before pursued. Now upon an examination of the work before us, it appears that these three ancients represent themselves to be proficients in these very sciences which the moderns thus claim to have originated or to have perfected in these latter days. In a matter of so great importance as this, a regard, as well to the reputation of those venerable ancients, as to the just rights of the present age, makes it our duty as impartial critics, to examine and decide upon the respective pretensions of the twQ parties. 40 The Wise Men of Got ham. [Jan. The learned editor in his preface gives the following account of the manner in which those remarkable papers first came to light. A great Oxford antiquary, of whom it has been said that he remembered whatever others forgot, and forgot whatever other people remembered, speaks of the Merry Tales of the Mad Men of Gotham, a work in great repute in his time, when the kindest name given to a philosopher, was that of madman, a phrase which often saved him from the stake or the block. This work was long supposed to be extinct, but at length came to light, not long since, at Mr Bindleys sale, and was bought by a young American trav- eller for a trifle, owing to the deplorable ignorance of two munifi- cent noblemen, who little suspected that it was the only copy in the known world, and for that reason considered it as worth no- thino. The work is divided into three distinct memoirs or narrations, said to have been delivered individually by the three wise men during their perilous voyage, and giving a minute account of their experiences in the prosecution of the three sciences in which they were proficients. We shall take up these several memoirs separately, in their order, and state our reasons for thinking as we do, that the learned editor has been imposed upon by some invidious modern, who having ar- rived at such a period of life as made it certain that he must soon become an ancient, took the opportunity, whilst it was yet within his power, to do something in favor of the party which he was about to be connected with; and for that purpose, to use a le- gal phrase, first pirated the most remarkable improvements and inventions of the moderns, and then held them up to ridicule. The first of these memoirs purports to be that of the Man Machine, or the Pupil of Circumstances. The account of his birth and initiation into the science of productive labor is thus described. I was born, began the first Wise Man of Gotham, in a coun- try that I- consider unworthy of my nativity, and for that reason I shall do all in my power to deprive it of the honor, by not mention- ing its name. I am, moreover, descended from a family, which must necessarily be of great antiquity, since, like all old things, it has long since fallen into decay. My father had little or no mo- ney, but was blesseA with the poor mans wealth, a fruitful wife 1827.] The Wise Alen of Got/lam. 41 and great store of children. Of these I am the eldest; but at the period I shall commence my story, we were all too young to take care of ourselves, until the fortunate discovery was made by some great philanthropist, that little children, of six or seven years old, could labor a dozen or fourteen hours a day without stinting their minds, ruining their health, or destroying their morals. This im- provement in the great science of PRODUCTIVE LABOR, delighted my fatherit was shifting the onus, as the lawyers say, from his own shoulders to that of his children. He forthwith bound us all over to a cotton manufactory, where we stood upon our legs three times as long as a member of congress, that is to say, fourteen hours a day, and among eight of us, managed to earn a guinea a week. The old gentleman, for gentleman he became from the moment he discovered his little flock could maintain himthought he had opened a mine. He left off working, and took to drink- ing and studying the mysteries of political economy and produc- tive labor. He soon became an adept in this glorious science, and at length arrived at the happy conclusion, that the whole mo- ral, physical, political and religious organization of society, re- solved itself into making the most of human labor, just as we do of that of our horses, oxen, asses, and other beasts of burden. pp. 21, 22. This wise man, whose name is Harmony, goes on to give, at great length, a minute description of the science of productive labor as exemplified in the management of a cotton factory. We think it will be apparent to our readers that the object is, un- der the feigned name of a man machine, to decry and run down that most useful and remarkable invention of modern tim& s call- ed a woman machine. The more fully to show that the moderns nre justly entitled to the merit of this invention, and that the slurs cast upon it by this writer are altogether groundless, we shall shortly state how, and when, this machine came first to be invented in this country; explain the mode of its construction; and briefly notice the very important uses to which it is applied. The invention of the woman machine, as can be incontestibly proved, first came about in this manner. As soon as the people of this country had fairly freed themselves from the government of Great Britain, and discharged themselves of their ancestors, all classes of persons here began to thrive and multiply exceed- ingly, but more especially females; insomuch that our political economists suggested a fear that, in process of time, the whole country would get to be overrun with women, unless some check was put to them. Now our mechanical geniuses, casting theit VOL. XXIV.NO. 54. 6 42 The Wise Men of Got/tam. [Jan. eyes around in search of cheap materials to work with, which is a great object with them, and seeing large stores of girls in all directions apparently useless, caught the idea, that it would an- swer an excellent purpose to work them lip into machinery, and so planned the woman machine, the mode of constructing which is after this fashion. You take from one hundred and fifty to two htmdred youths, varying the number according to the intend- ed size of your machine; they should be rather of a tender age, from ten to fifteen years is preferable, and mostly females, say not less than nine tenths. After well sorting these, you put them into a large four story building strongly constructed of brick or stone, near a considerable head of water; on the several floors of this building are to be placed various piecesof machinery, called mulc~, spinning jcnmes, double speeders, & c. Then having distributed the girls about the rooms according to your taste and judgment, you attach one or more of them, as circumstances may require, to each piece of machinery, and the whole machine is ready for use. A machine thus prepared and put together is called a mann- factory. The principal rule to be observed in the working otit, is to keep it in as constant operation as possible; the best regulated ones, not being stopped more than three times a day, for about twenty minutes at a time, to oil the wheels and feed the girls. After adhering strictly to this course for two or three years the girls are found, as it were, to become a part of the other machinery, so that neither of them can go to any purpose without being put together, any more than a wheel can go without being attached to a carriage, or a carriage without a wheel. And when the whole machine is in motion, the double speeder and spinning jenny part, appears to be just as much alive as the girl part. The principal advantages of this machine, as enumerated by the inventors, appear to be these; that a great part of the ma- chinery, as before mentioned, being made out of a very cheap material, goods can be manufactured by them at a much lower rate than in the old way, and so our English and other com- petitors derive from our market. That by this mode of educating females, four of the principal natural defects in their characters are eradicated, or greatly lessened; which has never before been known to he effected by any other course of education; namely, first, a frequent restlessness and fondness for running about; se- condly, a too free use of speech; thirdly, a constant desire for med 1827.] Tue Wise Men of Gotitam. 4~3 dung in other persons concerns to the neglect of their own and fourthly, a manifest indisposition to the wholesome control and authority of parents, husbands, and guardians; for the curing of xvhich defects, some dozen years steady exercise in one of these machines is said to be a most valuable and certain speci- fic, so that it is confidently expected, that by a very general es- tablishment of them, the world will shortly become a very quiet and peaceable place, th~t all riotous, routous, and noisy assern- bla 6es will cease, and that, excepting at Congress and in the state legislatures, excessive talking will only be persisted in when it is to some purpose. From this statement our readers will plainly see that this machine is unquestionably of modern invention, and that so far from failing to accomplish the purposes contemplated, it prom- ises to be of the greatest advantage to society, whether viewed as a most useful seminary for the education of females, or a cheap manufacturing machine. The second memoir is that of quominus; and it narrates the great exertions and sacrifices he made, in pursuing the study of the Perfection of Reason, otherwise denominated the Common Law. He thus introduces the subject. My brother Harmony, said Mr Quominus, the second Wise Man of Gotham, has fallen a sacrifice to the perfectibility of man; I, on the contrary, am a martyr to the Perfection of Rea- son. I was born in a country, where they have sufficient wisdom to make their own laws, but not quite enough, as it would seem, to understand them afterwards. In order to remedy this singular inconvenience, they resorted to a method equally singular, and original. They enlisted the wise men of other nations in their behalf; and justly considering that it was quite a sufficient effort of human wisdom for one country to make its own laws, they de- terinined to resort to another for their iiiterpretation. According- ly, they made a vast number of laws, believing they could not have too much of a good thing, and then sent beyond sea to get them explained. In a couple of hundred years, these explana- tions, being all carefully recorded in books, amounted to upwards of three thousand volumes of goodly size, containing tipon an aye- rage, each, one hundred contradictory interpretations of different wise men. Such a mass of wisdom, and such a variety of opin- ions, supported by such unanswerable arguments, iiever got to- gether under the same roof in this world. Some very aged per- sons, who had lived long enough to get about half througl~ this in- valuable collection, discovered that it was like the sermon that 44 The Wise Men of Gotham. [Jan. suited any text, and the text that suited any sermon; for every man could find in it a decision, or at least an opinion, to suit his purl)ose. A system so supported on all sides, by all sorts of opin- ions, certainly merited the honor of being called a science; and such a science, as certainly, deserved a respectable name. It was accordingly aptly denominated THE PERFECTION OF REASON, be- cause it furnished every man, however different his opinions might be, with reasons in support of them. In addition to this great requisite of every perfect system, name- ly, that it should suit every bodythis accumulation of contra- dictory opinions, it was affirmed, possessed another irresistible claim to the dignified appellation it had obtained. It cannot be denied, said the admirers of this science, that although the laws are expressly devised to settle such disputes, or conflicting claims, as might otherwise occasion a resort to force, still it is never the in- tention of a wise legislator, that people should actually appeal to them for this purpose. They are merely to be held up in terrorem, or rather like buoys, to float on the surface of society, for the pur- pose of warning mankind of the shoals and quicksands below. In this point of view, then, it is apparent, that the more intricate and inconsistent the laws, and the more various and contradicto- ry their interpretations, the greater delay and expense there will be found in settling appeals to them, and consequently the num- ber of lawsuits be greatly diminished. Thus, when the laws be- come perfectly unintelligible, they are absolutely perfect, for then nobody in their senses will go to law, and the science will do its duty after the manner of a scarecrow, which frightens the birds from the corn, merely by flourishing its unintelligible rattle. Thus you see, that no other name than that of the perfection of rea- son, could possibly have suited this excellent science. pp. 145147. And here again our readers will perceive, if they take the trouble to go through the narrative, that the sole object of it is to ridicule that most important and most ancient of all sciences, the common law, and particularly the great improvements made upon it by the moderns. Nor ought we to be greatly surprised at such an attempt. Ex- perience shows us, that let a science be carried to any state of perfection, however great, there are always found persons enough prepared to pick out some defects in it. For at all periods of the world two principal paths have been pursued in the attaining of distinction, which, though widely apart at their setting off, are found to lead out to the same eminence. The one of these is followed by doing well ourselves, and the other 1827.] The Wise Men of Got ham. 45 by finding fault with everything well done by our neighbors. Which latter being by far the easier road, is therefore much the more frequented. A very hasty sketch of the principles and foundations of the common law, and of the most remarkable improvements made upon it within a few years, will convince any one of the incor.- rectness of the views which this memoir would give of that dis- tinguished science. Municipal law, or the law as applicable to particular societies, the learned Mr Justice Blackstone says, in his Commentaries, vol. i. p. 34, is properly defined to be, a rule of civil conduct prescribed by the supreme power in a state, commanding what is right, and prohibiting what is wrong. It must be apparent, therefore, to the smallest mind, that the essen- tial requisites of good laws are these; first, that they should be reasonable and applicable to the times and to the persons upon which they are to operate; and, secondly, that they should be plain, and an acquaintance with them easily to be come at by all parts of the community. We shall proceed to show that these requisites are most remarkably conspicuous in the common law, and, indeed, are the grounds of that just preference which is given to this over the civil and statute law. And to the first point we will cite what is laid down by the learned Lord Coke on this subject, namely, that the common law is the very perfection of human reason. And this, to the minds of all enlightened jurists, at once settles the matter, my Lord Coke being considered the very oracle of the common law, and no equal authority being to be found to the contrary. But in respect that many of our readers may not be so well versed in the legal rules of reasoning, we shall no doubt more satisfactorily prove to them the reasonableness of the common law, and its especial applicability to the present state of the world, by stating the fact that these laws are not written rules, as our statute laws are, and so liable to mistakes in the printing, and to~ the interpolations of interested persons, and the misconstructions of feeble or perverse minds. Nor have any of them been made in modern times, so as that they might be fashioned to suit any partic~ular parties, persons, or purposes. But they are a col- lection of customs, never committed to writing, but handed down to us by tradition, and were first adopted, nobody knows when, why, nor by whom. And, as Mr Justice Blackstone says, the maxims and customs so collected are of higher antiquity than memory or history can reach, nothing being more difficult than 46 The Wise Men of Gotham. [Jait to ascertain the precise beginning, and first spring, of an ancient and long established custom. And so my Lord Hale says, The original of the common law is as undiscernible as the head of the Nile. And indeed in this seems to consist the very es- sence and excellency of these customs, for so soon as any one can ascertain the commencement and original reason of them, they cease to be good law, as see Blackstones Commentaries, vol. i. p. 70, So that if any one can show the beginning of it, it is no good custom. From which preceding remarks and au- thorities our intelligent readers are no doubt fully satisfied that the common law is admirably well adapted to our times, and in the highest degree reasonable, for although the learned Mr Christian in his notes upon the Commentaries, alleges, that it cannot be dissembled that there are decisions drawn from es- tablished principles and maxims, which are good law, though such decisions may be manifestly absurd and unjust, and that precedents and rules must be followed, even when they are flatly absurd and unjust, thereby plainly hinting that these pre- cedents and maxims are sometimes absurd and unjust, yet for- tunately the learned Blackstone himself has furnished us with a very ready way of getting over such difficulties, for, says he, speaking of the rules of the common law, though their reason be not obvious at first view, yet we owe such a deference to former times as not to suppose that they acted wholly without consideration; which key to the proper understanding and due digestion of many rules of the common law, has been of infi- nite assistance, and is much used, in the study and practice of that science. Having thus satisfactorily disposed of the first point, we pro- ceed to show how easily an acquaintance with this law may be attained to. Now these rules of the common law, upon a due knowledge and observance of which the life and property of every member of the community in a great measure depend, are not, as we have before observed, written out and collected in one or more books or sets of books, as the civil and statute law are, so that a person should have occasion ~o know how to read, and Teflect, and reason, in order to come to a knowledge of them; but very happily for us are stored up in the breasts of divers learned judges, whence they are to be extracted by a cer- tain process, called a case in court; so that any one who has a desire to be informed of his own rights, or those of his neigh- bor, in any particular, instead of tumbling over musty books, to 1827.] The Wise Men of Gotham. 47 the great waste of his time and injury of his eyes, has only to set about such a process, in which he is very kindly and willing. ly assisted by gentlemen of the bar, so called, (great numbers of xvhorn are always at hand, ready for such undertaking) when after a few years constant attendance upon courts, and the lay. ing out of several small sums of money, not worth mentioning, he will obtain a sufficient knowledge of the point in question, by a regular decision of the jud0es. And this course of inquiry being free to every one, rich or poor, high or low, all classes and mei~crs of society have by tbese means an equal opportunity of enjoying the laws of their country. Nor ought we to neglect mentio~ug here what puts this mode of acquiring a knowledge of the law greatly before every other, that, for several sufficient reasons, the legal information, once obtained after this manner, lays such good hold upon the memory as seldom or never to be forgotten for the rest of ones life. But notwithstanding the plain excellencies of the common law, many persons said, and perhaps it may be thought with some reason, that if people were only able to ascertain what the law was after it ~vas decided against them, it was no better than ex post ficto law, and therefore contrary to all justice; and that all the rules and maxims of the common law ought to be col- lected and written out plain in some book, so that any person might go to it and suit himself, according to his case. Upon which, and many other like suggestions, it was set about to im- prove the old system. And this was done in the only feasible way, namely, by creating at once a great abundance of new judges, of all sorts and kinds, from whom, by a constant em- ployment of them, all the rules and maxims of the common law might in a short time be extracted. In addition to these, nurne- rous learned reporters were also appointed, whose duty it should be, to write out at length, and publish under their own hands, the decisions of the judges. By which judicious means these said rules and maxims of the common law have now got to be so well collected and reduced to writing, that it is thought Con. gress will shortly have to set apart one of the western territories for the sole purpose of storing away the numerous books of re- porCs containing them; after the manner of a careful housewife, who is always known to appropriate some one chamber in her house to the purpose of a rubbish room. Nor did this rapid extraction of the common law fail of producing the advantages expected from it. For it often happened before this, that when persons who chanced 48 The Wise Men of Got ham. [Jan. to fall into some small dispute with each other, came to examine into the law on the subject, they either found no adjudicated cases at all, touching the question, or if any, they were very like to be all on one side of it, which greatly disappointed one of the parties and much discouraged useful judicial investiga- tions. Whereas since the better settlement of the law by the multiplication of valuable reports, numerous decisions may be found, not only applicable to every case that can arise, but also to every side of it, so that both parties apply with equal confi- dence to the legal tribunals, and are said to be reclus in curke, or to stand right in court, which, freely rendered, we understand to mean, start fair, it being impossible to conjecture on which side the weight of law is, until all the cases are regularly cited by the counsel and counted by the court. These striking improvements on the common law as adminis- tered by our ancestors, raised such an enthusiasm in favor of the new system of things, that even the judges themselves fell in with it, and began to make experiments, so that notwithstanding it had always heretofore been the received opinion, and still is, we believe, in the mother country, that the wisdom of a judge lies principally in his wig, and that he might as well appear upon the bench without his head upon his shoulders, as without his wig upon his head; yet in their warmth, with one accord, and in the face and eyes of all precedents, they pulled their venera- ble hair wigs off their heads and converted them into seats, in the shape of hair cushions, alleging that the administration of justice was thereby rendered much more easy. But of all the sciences cultivated in these times, the sublime science of Phrenology is that upon which the moderns most pride themselves; a science calculated to give us a perfectly new view of mankind. To attack this important science, the favorite of distinguished heads, seems to be the aim of the third and last memoir. The name given to this wise man is Le Peigne, and he de- scribes in the following extract his unexpected and extraordinary meeting with the first phrenologist. My bfother Harmony, began the Third Wise Man of Gotham, has, it seems, been shipwrecked in pursuit of the Perfectibility of Man; and my brother Quominus has fallen a victim to the Per- fection of Reason, or the Wisdom of Ages, I can hardly tell which: I, on the contrary, am the martyr of science. 49 1827.] The Wise Men of Gotheun. I was born and educated in the most scientific, literary, and philosophical city in the world, for the women were all blues and the men metaphysicians. In truth, I may say, with perfect ve- racity, there were so many people running after science, that there were not sciences enongh for them to run after. The busi- ness was overdone; the game was exhausted, as in countries too thickly settled and too much cultivated; and nothing ~vas left for them but the invention of new sciences, to give them employ- merit. Besides, such had been the unwearied industry, the deep sagacity, with which they bad pursued the old sciences, that they had driven them from their most secret recesses; detected all their arcana; exposed their occult mysteries; and, in fact, pulled them by the ears, as it were, out of every hole and corner where they had entrenched themselves for ages. Strangers, who were allured to the city by the fame of its learning, obseryed with as- tonishment, that the women could call every thing by its scien- tific name, and that even the very children talked nearly as wisely as the best of them. Learning, science, and philosophy were be- coming vulgar, insomuch that several people of the highest rank and fashion, began to study ignorance, and actually sent their children to school to unlearn every thing. It was high time, therefore, for the lovers of science to begin to look about them; for the writers and lecturers upon the old Grey Beard mathe- matics, philosophy, botany, and chemistry, instead of an audience of pretty fashionables, with nodding plumes, were content to con- fine their instructions to classes of rusty students, who actually came for no other purpose than to learn. The fashionable young ladies began to yawn at conversations where they met to relax themselves with political economy and metaphysics; and a uni- versal alarm prevailed, when a great heiress, who was considered the bulwark of the blues, backslided, and married a regular dan~ dy, with a thin waist and no learning. It was high time to get up something new for these people, and as the natives of our isle are more apt to improve upon the inventions of others than to invent anything themselves, I was selected by a coterie of philosophers, and sent out into the world to discover a new plaything for these grown up children of know- ledge. I travelled, and travelled, and travelled, as the storybooks say, over divers countries that have neither latitude nor longitude; I visited all the colleges, scientific institutions, and bedlams ~ sought out the most learned and adventurous philosophers of christendom; consulted the Pundits of India, the Chingfoos of China, the Dervises of Turkey, and the Jugglers of the Flathead Indians of the Missouri. In short, I ransacked the uttermost ends of the earth, and was returning disconsolate. through Ger- VOL. XXJV.NO. 54~ 50 The Wise .Mea of (Jot/tam. [Jan. many, to my native city, with a firm conviction that there was nothing new under the sun, when an unexpected adventure befell me on the eve of a long days journey. Owing to various untoward accidents, one of which was the lameness of my horse, I had been overtaken by twilight in the midst of the forest of Tentoburgium, not far, as it afterwards proved, from the spot where Varus and his legions had been cut off by the German hero Arminius. As the night gathered thick around me, obscured into Cimmerian darkness by the overarching shades, I became more and more confused and uncertain of my way. I heard the growling of bears, the howling of wolves, the hooting of owls, and the shrill whistle of the bandit, mingling with the sighing and moaning of winds as they wandered in the impenetrable shades. At length my progress was arrested by a cold and heavy hand, forcibly applied to my mouth, with such excellent aim, considering it was so dark, that it stopt it entirely and prevented me from calling for help, had I bethought myself of doing it. So forcible was the blow, that it knocked me from my horse, and I lay on the ground for a few moments insensible to everything around me. As I gradually recovered, the pain of my fall, the loneliness of my situation, and the apprehension that the bandit would return with his companions, and finish, perhaps, what he had begun, overcame me entirely, and I groaned at inter- vals aloud. Nothing for a time answered me, but the dismal echoes of the forest, and once or twice the neighings of what I snpposed my own horse, who had wandered to a distance. At length, however, my cries were ans~vered by a voice which seemed close to my ear. Who and what art thou, that thus wanderest alone, at mid- night, on the spot where the bones of tens of thousands have been bleaching for ages? cried a hollow and tremulous voice. I am a pilgrim, exclaimed I, from a far distant country, travelling the earth in search of a new science. Thou hast hit the nail on the head, replied the invisible voice. Follow me, give me thy hand, thou art a lucky man, and hast been born, without doubt, with a silver spoon in thy mouth. But my horse, quoth I. lie is safe, replied the voice, taking me by the hand. As I lifted it to my lips in token of thankfulness, I started back with horror. It smells of mortality! cried I. TrueIt hath handled nothing but the bones of Yarns and his legions, for in ore than thirty years. Art thou a sexton ? 1827.] The Wise .)J/Iien of Crotham. 51 A grave digger? Follow me, and thou shalt know. I again gave him my hand with tremhling reluctance, and we struck to the ri~ ht in a direction towards a dim light, which till now escaped my notice. After proceeding some distance, we ap- proached the entrance of a cave ~vhich descended gently into the bosom of the earth, through a passage dimly lighted by a lamp, leading into an apartment that struck me with inexpressible dis- may. It was a charnelhouse of skulls, ~vhich I took for granted appertained to thousands of murdered wretches, made away with by a band of robbers, of which this wily old wretch was the stool- pigeon, or chief, I hardly knew which. His whole appearance was a composition of sul)ernatural horrors. Thare did not seem a drop of blood in his body, or an ounce of fi ~sh on his bones. His eye, deep sunk in his head, glimmered dimmer than the half expiring lamp which obscured rather than illuminated the pas- sage by which we had descended; and his cheeks, for want of the support of teeth, had sunk in on either side, and met together lov- ingly in the roof of his mouth. His head was without a single hair, and the glossy surface of the skull, divided by lines into dif- ferent compartments, like the divisions of a map. Each of these was numbered after the manner of sheet maps, teaching children geography. Gracious heaven! exclaimed I, mentally, he is not only a robber hut a necromancer perhaps one of the infernal quizzical imps of Number Nip! perhaps the wooden demon him- self. This forest has long been famous for evil doings, and these lines and figures are doubtless the spell by which this diabolical caitiff works his infernal ends. I cast my eyes from the necro- mancer to the paraphernalia by which he was surrounded. No- thing was seen but skulls piled up in various recesses, or lying about in horrible confusion, so that at every step, they rolled be- neath my feet, and grinned in my face, as if in scorn of these im- potent injuries. The rest of the embellishments of this Golgotha, have escaped my recollection, for as I continued to stare around, my courage deserted me, my senses wandered, arid I trembled from head to foot. Thou art cold and doubtless hungry too, snid the old mys- tery of horror I was inhospitable not to offer thee something to eat. He then arose and went to an obscure part of the cave. 1-le is gone to prepare for me the feast of the worms, thought I, or perhaps he will presently invite me, like the ghost in i)on Juan, to an entertainment of shin-bones and petty-toes. Would I were home again, and perish all new sciences. Presently, however, he returned, and to my very agreeable surprise, presented a piece of The Wise .Men of Gotham. [Jan. cold venison, some bread, and a fiaggon of beer. Eat, drink and be merry, quoth he for to-morrow I die! responded I, in- wardly, with a sigh. However hunger is lord of the ~vorld, and will swallow up fear, when he is sharp set. I fell upon the veni- son, and ate as if it were my last; I swallowed oceans of beer, in hopes it would infuse into me a portion of Dutch courage, but in vain. While I was taking my meal, the necromancer or whatever he might be, was examining a large skull, divided and marked in like manner with his own, and apparently comparing it with mine, while he ever and anon exclaimed Bless me !astonishing !-~vonderful !one would think they had belonged to one and the same person !Pray, my good friend, if you can stop eating for one moment, tell me, had you ever any other head on your shoulders than the one you carry now? Not that J know of, replied I. Astonishingcuriousremarkablenever saw such an iden- tity~wit~locality~amativeness~pbiloprogenitiveness.......ideality wonder-acquisitivenessconcentrativenessadhesiveness........ cautiousnesstune-sizeweight~coloring..language.....com parisoncasualtylove of approbationordercombativeness, and what not! I would give thousands for your skull. Why, sir, you must be a universal genius. You have the finest collection of organs in the world. You are a poet, a mechanic7 a chymist, a philosopher, a musician, a lover of children, an artist, a metaphy.~ sician, and anything else you please, besides. pp. 237244. A very few words will be sufficient to vindicate this remarka- ble science from the aspersions thrown upon it in this memoir. it had always heretofore been supposed since Adam first shoxved his face in the world, that the passions, propensities, and mental qualifications of a man were best expressed by the front side of his head, whereas this science teaches that they are only to be correctly judged of by the backside; thereby entirely changing the face of things, and clearly showing that our ances- tors have all along been looking upon the wrong side of them. Which sufficiently accounts for the slow progress the world has been making until within a few years past; and also for the sudden start it has lately taken. It has ever been a universal sentiment that the most important study of mankind is man; notwithstanding which, and the great apparent opportunities we have of examining individual charac- ter, such have been the peculiar difficulties of the subject, that a very imperfect knowledge, after all, has ever been obtained of 1827.] The Wise Alen of Gotitarn. it. For before the practice of phrenology, the most approved means of judging of a mans character was by observing his con- duct; which could only be conclusively determined upon after he had closed his life, nor was this test a perfect one; for who could decide how the same person would have acted, exposed to the operation of different circumstances. And, indeed, it is one of the tritest maxims, that so far from easily ascertaining the character of others, it is one of the severest tasks to become ac- quainted with our own. Now, through the help of this science of phrenology, all such difficulties are at once done away with; and by a mere glancing of our eyes, or even momentary appli- cation of our fingers, to the heads of our neighbors, we are as certainly informed of what they can and will do, as by our ex- perience of what they have done. Thereby changing future time at once into present; a thing which people at all times of life have continually desired to do, but never before been able to effect, unless it may be a few learned grammarians. We have not time to notice all the beneficial changes which this science is expected to work in our customs, manners, and laws; they may, however, in some small measure, be judg- ed of by a single instance. To take a principal one in the law. A man commits a murder; society is put in great terror, and to great expense and trouble in catching the felon and bringing him to justice, when after all he may get off, for the want of suffi- cient evidence of the fact, and commit half a dozen more like crimes before he can be legally hung; it being a rule of some of our courts not to punish a man for any offence before he can be proved to have committed it. Now observe the effects of this science ;a man in walking the streets, riding in a stage coach, sitting in the theatre or anywhere else, sees a person before him with a fully developed murder bump on the back of his head; he immediately gives secret information of the fact; the crimi- nal is forthwith seized without having an opportunity to escape; and this being a matter of easy proof, he may be tried, con- demned, sentenced, and executed off hand. Fot it certainly is a matter of equal justice whether you hang a man before or after thecrirne, provided only you are satisfied that, if left unhung, he would be sure to commit it; and moreover the being beforehand with him, has this great advantage, that you thereby save the life of the murdered person. But we might as well attempt to count the stars, as to enume- rate the various excellencies of this wonderful science. Nor is 54 The Wise ~4ien of Got/tarn. [Jan. it necessary. The obvious advantages of having an accurate chart of every mans character drawn out upon his head for geri- eral inspection must be sufficiently apparent. Having thus explained the origin and the important uses of the several sciences which are attempted to be decried by the book before us, we hope we have convinced our readers that these memoirs are in fact the ofl~pring of some dissatisfied modern, and not the productions of the three distinguished ancients to ~vhom they are attributed. But if we should have failed in this, still there is one science of jeat and increasing repute at the present day, not noticed in these memoirs, and which has so plainly grown out of the prevailing opinions of these times that we cannot but think that the claims of the moderns to it are un- questionable. We refer to the novel science of inversion or transposition. As soon as our late peace with Great Britain had set the people of this country at their ease, and given them an opportunity of turn- ing their attention to peaceful and speculative subjects, having, as we before observed, effectually discarded their ancestors, they began soon to examine with a careful and scrutinizing eye the foundations and merits of many of the old established opinions and principles received from them, and which had for centuries past controled the minds and influenced the conduct of mankind. Among these, their attention was particularly attracted to that universal and lon6 continued custom among men of always keep- ing the head uppermost; and the philosophers and wiser sort gave out, that this was nothing more than an old prejudice, and a very injurious one, and no more natural to man than to other animals, but only a foolish fashion of our ancestors, which ought to be immediately corrected. And they said it was so far from according with the nature of things and the order of the universe to have the head always uppermost, that the most approved and received theories of the motion of the planets and the diurnal rotation of the earth showed that mankind ought to be heels over head at least half the time. These opinions were immediately caught up and assented to by such politicians as were of the pre- vailing parry at this tine in the country, who said that the usur- pation, tyranny, and infringements upon the rights of the people, which had vexed the political world for so many ages, were chiefly owing to some persons carrying their heads too high. The medical men, too, assisted in attempting to reform tbis custom, and gave it as their decided opinion that it was to this bad habit 1827.] The Wise Men of Gotltam. 55 of keeping the head always uppermost, that most of the mental and bodily disorders of mankind might be traced, and partic- ularly that worst one of all, called dyspepsia. In pursuance of these opinions, and in order to effect as rapid and radical a change of this mischievous habit as possible, cor- porations were formed, and schools established in our principal cit- ies) called Gymnasiums, where all those who had hitherto heen go- ii~g head over heels to the injury of their health, the distress of their friends, and the detriment of society, might endeavor to mend their ways by learning to go heels over head. The same system of educa- tion, after mature examination, has also been introduced, as we are informed, into some of our most distinguished universities, where it is said to have taken the place of the Hebrew and other dead languages, it being a general opinion, that if much of the time which has heretofore been bestowed upon the heads of the youth there, had been devoted to their heels, their proficiency would have been more apparent; so that at these venerable seats of science you may daily see learned philosophers, professors, and alumni with their heels where their heads used to be, to the great admiration of spectators, the advancement of science, and the manifest improvement of undergraduates. We cannot close our remarks without expressing our thanks to the learned editor of these documents, fur the great and con- tinued zeal he manifests in composing or editing such works as tend to show the real state of improvement of this country in the arts, sciences, and general civilization. And if he should have been deceived, as we think he has, in attributing these composi- tions to the three venerable philosophers, whose memoirs they pur- port to be. still they have their good effect, in this, that they raise the suggestion, whether, how much wiser soever than our ances- tors we moderns may think ourselves, x 7e shall not best show our wisdom by saying but little about it; inasmuch as it happens every now and then, that some relic of a former age, which, like the Herculaneum manuscripts and Miltons essay, has been buried for centuries among the ruins of a lost town or the rubbish of an overgrown library, and has so slipped through the fingers of the intcr.mediate generations, accidentally falls into our hands, and gives us some reason to doubt whether the great march of mind in our day, may not, after all, have been in a circle. 56 Growth of the Mind. [Jari~ ART. IV.Observations on the Growth of the Mind. By SAMPSON REED. Boston. Svo. pp. 44. PERHAPS there has been no age, Since the world was estab- Jished as the abode of man, so generally confident of progress, and so full of anticipations of further advancement, as our own. It looks back on the ages that are past, and asserts that it is wiser and better than they. It looks forward on the ages to come, and acknowledges that they will far surpass it. Though proud of its superiority, it is generous and impartial in its pride, for it is prepared and willing to be excelled. It is conscious of its abundant acquisitions, but it has been taught by many of these, that there is more to be acquired; and it calls, with a voice of disinterested hopefulness, on the still nobler and more successful exertions of future time. This voice of the age, feeble and stifled in many regions of the earth, rings out with an earnest distinctness from those districts in which mankind are the most intelligent and free, enjoying the greatest share of light and the greatest li~berty to make use of it. Never was the voice so loud, so united, so cheering. We join in it with all our strength. It is to us the voice of reason and truth. It is our nature proclaiming its origin and its destiny; it is experience holding high converse with futurity; it is deep calling unto deep. For melancholy auguries we have no faith; and for the outcry against innovation, no reverence. We hold courage to be wisdom, and confidence to be true phi- losophy. We do not doubt, nor fear. And yet we think, that amid the prevailing excitement of the times, there may be occasionally discerned something like ex- travagance, a passion for the unreal and undefinable, a strain- ing after improbabilities; as if there were no bounds to hu- man power, no limit to its capacities. There is a disposition in some, who have observed the attainments already made by the human mind, to employ their fancy in searching out all possible attempts and improvements, in all the provinces of art and in- tellect. - It is a matter of course, that such a disposition should be de- veloped by the fermentations and powerful workings, which have been going on in society. But we find fault with it on two ac- counts. The first is, that its indulgence is a useless employment of time. It is as idle, as it is easy, to sit down and foretell that

56 Growth of the Mind. [Jari~ ART. IV.Observations on the Growth of the Mind. By SAMPSON REED. Boston. Svo. pp. 44. PERHAPS there has been no age, Since the world was estab- Jished as the abode of man, so generally confident of progress, and so full of anticipations of further advancement, as our own. It looks back on the ages that are past, and asserts that it is wiser and better than they. It looks forward on the ages to come, and acknowledges that they will far surpass it. Though proud of its superiority, it is generous and impartial in its pride, for it is prepared and willing to be excelled. It is conscious of its abundant acquisitions, but it has been taught by many of these, that there is more to be acquired; and it calls, with a voice of disinterested hopefulness, on the still nobler and more successful exertions of future time. This voice of the age, feeble and stifled in many regions of the earth, rings out with an earnest distinctness from those districts in which mankind are the most intelligent and free, enjoying the greatest share of light and the greatest li~berty to make use of it. Never was the voice so loud, so united, so cheering. We join in it with all our strength. It is to us the voice of reason and truth. It is our nature proclaiming its origin and its destiny; it is experience holding high converse with futurity; it is deep calling unto deep. For melancholy auguries we have no faith; and for the outcry against innovation, no reverence. We hold courage to be wisdom, and confidence to be true phi- losophy. We do not doubt, nor fear. And yet we think, that amid the prevailing excitement of the times, there may be occasionally discerned something like ex- travagance, a passion for the unreal and undefinable, a strain- ing after improbabilities; as if there were no bounds to hu- man power, no limit to its capacities. There is a disposition in some, who have observed the attainments already made by the human mind, to employ their fancy in searching out all possible attempts and improvements, in all the provinces of art and in- tellect. - It is a matter of course, that such a disposition should be de- veloped by the fermentations and powerful workings, which have been going on in society. But we find fault with it on two ac- counts. The first is, that its indulgence is a useless employment of time. It is as idle, as it is easy, to sit down and foretell that 1827.] Growth of the Mind. 57 such and such great things may come to pass. It is far more dif- ficult, and far more useful, to go to work in perfecting some im- provement already commenced, or in producing dome actual and available invention, in our opinion, the man who adds ever so little, to the real stock of human knowledge, or actively engages in diffusmub and enforcing the undoubted laws of virtue, is be- yond comparison a more valuable member of society than the man who merely imagines future glories and attainments, just ~thin the precincts of possibility, but which even he himself who imacrines them, cannot clearly explain. The second ob- jection which we entertain against this romantic disposition, is, that it is regardless of the checks which do and always must operate to retard the march of improvement, and of the visible limits within which the Creator has confined the human in- tellect. If we stop for a few moments to take a glance at some of these checks and limits, it will not be because they are not ob- vious, but because they are so, and that being so, they are nevertheless overlooked and disregarded in the flights of wild conjecture. We may notice first, the boundaries and successive stag es of life. Its utmost extent is but a short period for any considera- ble advancement in the wide field of knowledge; and appears much shorter, when we reflect bow small a portion of it can be devoted to vigorous and effectual exertion. What a long blank is denoted by those words, infancy and childhood! What a large portion of life is consumed in learning how to use the hands, the feet, and the tongue! Years pass away before there is strength in the body or discretion in the mind. Years pass axvay before the simplest elements of knowledge are imbibed, or a moiety of that learning is acquired which has been in the world for centuries. We all begin the race of existence on the same line; we start from the same post; ignorance and help- lessness are the inevitable commencement of all that is human. The first lessons of the spelling book are as incomprehensible to an infant, as the Principia of Newton, or the Analogy of But- ler. - Then youth comes, as it always has come, and always will come, fiery, passionate, reckless, headstrong; refusing coun- sel, confiding in its own wisdom, and contradicting the best established dictates of reason, prudence, and experience. The most perfect system of instruction imaginable can only in some measure restrain, but it cannot eradicate youthful passion; it voL. XXIv.No. 54. S (irowt/i oJtke .11/find. [Jan. may point out the safe path, hut it cannot prevent the communi- cation betxveen temptation within and temptation without, which is continually suggesting deviation, and encouraging departure. You may look forward, therefore, to what age of the world you xviii, and there xviii still be infancy and childhood to be taught the rudiments of all that is known, and youth as strongly im- pelled as ever by those forceful passions which are kneaded into our very clay. The middle period of life is somewhat sobered and subdue& it has learnt most of what is useful, and is prepared to take up and carry forward the great work of improvement. But even in this period, how much time is seized tipon by the common cares and wants of humanity. The ground is to be tilled; the sea is to be traversed and fathomed; the body is to be clothed and fed; children are to be maintained and educated and pro- vided for. Where xvill be the end of this? There xviii be no end; in the nature of things there can be none. These will be the great occupations of man while the world stands. The chain xvhicli binds him to earth is strong and heavy and immutable its links were forged in the beginning; they are wrought out of the necessities of his nature. Old age is the season of quiet and rest, of repose after labor and fatigue, of peace after contention and tumult. The veteran retires from service, and seats himself by his hearth, and hangs up his arms. He may repeat the story of his battles, but we do not expect to see him again in the field. Old people are generally satisfied with what was (lone in the time of their ac- tivity ; and not only so, but they are persuaded that nothing more and nothing better is to be done. XVe admit that there are ex- ceptions; but the rule is xvell established on fact. They are in- disposed to exertion; it is natural that they should be ; as the frame wears out, the spirit becomes exhausted. They think everything is accomplished in the cause of humanity, of which the cause is susceptible; and this too is natural, for their oxvn part is performed. If (leath intervenes not, the second childhood follows; an emptier blank than the first, because it is imbecility without promise. What rational person can predict any su(Iden improvement, while these are the appointments of the different stages of life? Why should we roam beyond those limits of our nature xvhich were fixed on the day when man xvas created, and xvhich will remain till the end of his allotted abode on earth? 1827.] Growth of the Mind. 59 But we have not yet spoken of prejudice, which acts like a law of moral entail, and brings down error from one generation to another. Nor of diversity of intellect, and opposition of opinkirn, which keep truth in a perpetual balance, and divide and parcel out falsehood among all classes and denominations. Nor of interest, which sways a man downward, and hinds his heart to his treasure. Nor of pride, the champion, who is always ready, xvith visor down and lance in rest, to do battle for self. These are not temporary obstacles, which may be hereafter removed out of the road of improvement. Improvement is for-. ever to make its way over and through them; for they belong to the soil, and rise up in it on all sides and without end. But great men come forward, from time to time, and make great discoveries; and when they die, they transmit the fruits of their invention, not to children, but to men, who are able to ap- preciate, apply, and increase them. How many such heirs will they find? How many who can claim even distant kindred with them? What portion of mankind understand the works of a great astronomer, or a great metaphysician? And oUt of that portion how many are there who can correct and enlarge them? It needs but little arithmetic to compute their number; they may all be counted on the fingers. And the knowledge of the few is slowly and in small quantities imparted to the many. It is lono before the simplest results of their labors are appre- b headed by the mass of mankind. What ocean floods and cata- racts of light must be pouring and rushing down from a single constellation of the heavens; and yet what spare threads of the glorious stream reach us here below, and how many years they have been on their silent descent. Bat there are bounds to the most adventurous and expansive intellect; heights which it cannot scale; depths which it cannot sound; holy and mysterious recesses of nature, at the fast doors of which it has knocked anxiously and repeatedly for admission, and the hollow echo within has reverberated the notice, that there was no entrance there. What mind has conceived of a never beginning and never ending eternity, beyond the primary and-most general definitions? Or of boundless space; or of the principle of gravitation; or of the essence of the Deity; or the manner in which he lives, creates, and rules? Who shall reconcile the Divine foreknowledge with human free will? Take the sword to the knot, and cut it, and declare that men have no liberty, that they are not free agents, because God has determ 60 Growth of the JIlind. [Jan. med all their actions for them and still you have to reconcile necessity with accountability, and inform us why a man should be punished, either here or hereafter, for a sin which he was foreordained to commit. It is true that they who have written books on these subjects, and have taxed all their ingenuity in at- tempting to solve the j)roblems contained in them, have thought that they have indeed worked out a solution; but we do not see it; the world does not see it; there is no approximation to an agreement in the controversy. We are by no means of opinion that such investigations are useless; but we do think that they will be endless. And how should our researches be rewarded with perfect success, when we are so imperfectly acquainted with that which is the agent in making them? We talk of mind and its final triumphs. What is mind, and where is it? What information can the mind give us of its own simple nature? As little as it can of the nature of Him who formed it. It cannot tell us whether it is an independent substance, entirely distinct fiom matter, or whether it is a system of results from material organi- zation. The anatomist may search and dissect, with his nicest instruments, from the surface to the innermost marrow, and when all is over, he knows just as much of the nature of man, as he does of the next bird or quadruped which may come under his knife, and no more. He knows not even what life is, nor how it begins, nor how it is suspended, nor on what it depends. One has his theory; another has his; the very word is a confession of ignorance. How does mind act upon matter, if it is really separate from it; and how is it connected with matter and affected by it? Why do the diseases of the body sometimes lay the mind in ruins, and sometimes pass over it; and leave it upright and strong? But it is idle to multiply these questions. We return to the primitive assertion; it is n.ot known what mind is. We pretend not at present to take one side or the other of the contro- versy; only we hope that we shall never dogmatize on either. We think it probable that the question will never be satisfactorily determined, however positively it may be argued. We would not disturb faith, nor check its generous and holy aspirings. Yet it gains nothing in our eyes, we confess, when it becomes visionary or assuming. A meet companion for it is humility; and nothing is better adapt~d t9 assure their fellow- ship, than a view of the near boundaries of human knowledge. 1827.1 Growth of the Mind. (ii We remain, as we began, the advocates of human improve- merit; firmly convinced that knowledge has been and now is in a progressive state; that in some directions it may advance al- most indefinitely; and that hapoiness and virtue are likewise increasing on the earth. it is only necessary, as it seems to us, to name the bare names of peace, liberty, toleration, equality, and charity, to prove how much more generally these subjects are understood than they used to be, and how much this difilised unde~ standing of them has conduced to the security, dignity, and enjoyment of man. Why then have we spoken of limits, doubts, ignorance, and frailty? Simply that a proper apprehension might be enter- tained of human powers, and of the objects to which they may be most safely and productively applied. It is important that we should know where to devote our exertions; what is to be accomplished in its due order and degree; and the best manner in which it is to be effected; so that life may not be spent in speculation, nor genius wasted in revery. The inquiry of the philanthropist ought to be, what is now to be done; not, what is to be done a thousand years hence. In this manner he not only renounces the thraldom of old authority and prescription, and assumes that something is to be done, but he feels himself called upon to contribute his own immediate exertions. If we look around us to discover what are the great moral improvements which principally distinguish our own age, we shall find that they consist not so much in invention as instruc- tion; not so much in the promulgation of original knowledge, as in the diflhsion among many, of that which had long been the property of a few. We presume that Jeremy Taylor enter- tained as clear an apprehension of the principles of toleration and religious liberty as is entertained by any one at the present day; but those principles are now understood by a thousand, where they were understood in his time by one; and the con- sequence of this consentaneous adoption of them is, that they are beginning to be extensively and thoroughly practised upon. Milton perceived the value of education, and its important ef- fects on the community, as clearly as we do; but how many are there who now enjoy the privilege of abundant instruction, who, if they had lived when he lived, would not have been able to read the word of God, or to write their own names. And that which has been so happily supplied, is still the de- mand. The great call of the age still continues to ~e for the 62 Groutlt of t1~c Mind. [Jan. wider dissemination of existing knowledge. The crying want of society, morally and intellectually considered, is, not for any striking discoveries from individuals, but that the multitude should be raised up to the same attainments which well instruct- ed individuals already possess, and which have been possessed by a scattered few in almost every period of recorded time. Let us infuse into the community at large, precisely the faith and the morals which have been formerly professed and practised hy a small and disconnected company, and we may look on all indefinite schemes and visions with indifference. What greater thing could come to pass, than that all men should be made as rationally pious and practically religious as was Locke, for in- stance, to say nothing of his less attainable characteristics? Yet all that would be new in this case would be the universal con- formity to a known exemplar. Let us try to lift up as many of our fellow beings as we can to this, or any other exalted moral standard. Here is the sphere of our worthiest labors. Here is the task which may gloriously employ the powers of the most gifted and accomplished minds. The happiness of the world is to he expected from the liberal communication of sentiments, views, principles, and motives, which are already in the world. The path of duty is right onwards; and it must conduct to suc- cessively higher stages of improvement, so long as it is honestly and steadily pursued. There is much before our very eyes, and within the compass of our plain ability, which needs to be altered, perfected, or destroyed. What are the best ways of se- curing these visible objects and advantages? We must search for them. This is a part of the labor; and in this respect, we allow, there is an urgent and almost constant call for invention; hut the invention of means and not of ends; the finding out how that which is already invented, may be made common and useful; how prejudices, which have long been under suspicion and displeasure, may be safely banished from the realms of faith; how old knowledge may be most easily, acceptably, and beneficially introduced to the young mind; how the best prin- ciples may be made the predominant ones; how the practice of that which is received, may lead to the establishment of that which is hoped for. Thus the objects of effort and invention come plainly and bodily into our presence, and appear in a practicable position and form. We are no longer misled by fancies and dreams, either our own, or other mens; theory submits to the ordeal of 1827.] Growth of the Mind. 63 proof; and the genuineness of improvement is confirmed by the signature and seal of experience. Diffusion and dissemination, therefore, are the great designs of the age. Invention is their servant and minister. It is no vain show which is in progress. The gold of the treasury must be more widely thrown out amono the crowd. The heaps yet b of the granary must he yet more generously distributed among the dwellings of the poor. The time has come, when men must have the truth, and the whole truth; and they ought to have it. The old notion, that there may be one belief for the multitude, and another for the initiated, now seems to he more glaringly false and empty than ever, and should be indignantly dismissed by every honest man. One simple, serious conviction should take its forfeited place, and be the counsellor of all our exertions; the conviction that whatever is most reasonable and proper should be attempted and carried through, without even asking the question whether it is new or whether it is old, whether it makes its appearance for the first time to day, or whether it has been acknowledged through a long line of gene- rations. We must look steadily to that which is right, and then we shall no morc despise what is old, in a temper of hasty vanity, nor be haunted by the fear of what is new, which, of all fears, is the most unworthy of a mind which pretends to be free, or desires to be just. It will be readily perceived from the tenor of the foregoing observations, that we have no objection whatever to originality and boldness, or to anything which wears a feature of improve- ment. It will also be perceived that our impressions of human life and human nature are such, that we place little confidence in extravagant anticipations, and give little respect to mystical and cloudy revelations of the future. It is not, therefore, against any novelties which there may be in Mr Reeds pamphlet on the Growth of the Mind, but against its indefiniteness and mysticism that we shall lay our charges. We honor the apparent purity of its purpose, the spirituality and the independence of its character. We admire the force and beauty of much of its imagery; we are pleased with the gene- ral peculiarity of its style, which sometimes throws an air of originality over the thought which it dresses. But if he in- tended it to inform and instruct the public mind, or even to ac- company the progress of the present time, we cannot doubt that in these respects he will b~ disappointed; among the number 64 Growth of the JWind. [Jan. who will seriously attempt to understand it throughout, there will be few who will succeed. For ourselves, we found it a difficult matter to get through the fortyfour pages of this work, within double the time which we usually bestow on the same quantity of words. We do not suspect the author of intentional obscurity, but we doubt whether, if he had tried, he could have wrapped up his meaning in a thicker mantle of darkness than that which now invests it. This arises in part from what seems to be the mysticism of a peculiar religious faith. It arises in part also, from the want of a visible connexion between the several propositions of the work. There is no regular succession of clearly defined steps, leading the reader to a firm conclusion. Thought follows thought, and image treads hard upon image, like a hastily assembled crowd, who keep in motion, but without precisely knowing the quarter to which they should go. The author, indeed, proposes to him- self an object, but if he keeps it in his own view, it is more than we were able to do, for we often lost sight of it entirely. It is the object, he says, of the following pages, not to be in- fluenced by views of a temporal or local nature, but to look at the mind as far as possible in its essential revealed character, and be- ginning with its powers of acquiring and retaining truth, to trace summarily that developement which is required, in order to render it truly useful and happy. p. 6. This is sufficiently distinct, and prepares us to expect some- thing like regularity and a lucid order; instead of which we are presented with a set of deep metaphysical discussions, almost every one of which might stand by itself as an independent es- say, and almost any one of which, as it seems to us, might be struck out, without being missed. The first dissertation is on memory. With a part of tbis we were quite favorably impress- ed; for it is intelligible and true. It concerns the connexion between the memory and the affections. There is the most intimate connexion of the memory with the affections. This connexion is obvious from many familiar ex- pressionsi such as, remember me to any one, by which is signified a desire to be borne in his or her affectionsdo not forget me, by which is meant do not cease to love meget by heart, which means commit to memory. It is also obvious from observation of our own minds; from the constant recurrence of those subjects which we most love, and the extreme difficulty of detaching our 1827.] Growth of the .Mind. 65 own minds or the minds of others from a favorite pursuit. It is obvious from the power of attention on which the memory princi- pally depends, which if the subject have a place in our affections requires no effort; if it have not, the effort consists principally in giving it a real or an artificial hold of our feelings, as it is pos- sible if we do not love a subject, to attend to it because it may add to our fame or our wealth. It is obvious from the never fading freshness retained by the scenes of childhood, when the feelings are strong and vivid, through the later periods of life. As the old man looks back on the road of his pilgrimage, many years of ac- tive life lie unseen in the valley, as his eye rests on the rising ground of his younger days. pp. 6, 7. The second dissertation is on time. What is time? Mr Reed asks twice; and after a deal of refinement and subtilty, he answers that it is nothing at all. Out upon time! exclaims Lord Byron, in a passage which some of our English brethren think very fine; Out upon time, he repeats; and Mr Reed has taken him at his word. Father Time is severely handled his scythe is snapt; his hour glass is broken; and he himself is banished. In the course of this process, we were first carried back in imagination to those pleasant academic scenes, in which we were accustomed, in affirmative and negative array, to prove our youthful powers on that venerable personage, and his old bro- ther, Space. At length we grew bewildered. We saw Time fold up his wings. Our grandfathers were our brethren; we became in our dream contemporary with the patriarchs, and shook hands with Adam, and touched our hat to the last man. But when we came to ourselves, we were forcibly struck with the justice, in this case at least, of the Scotchmans definition of met- aphysics. Metaphysics, said the shrewd Northerner, is twa men talkin thegither. He thats listenin does na ken what he thats talkin means, and he thats talkin does na ken what he means himsel. Seriously; if Mr Reed intends to be useful, and that he does so intend we have no doubt, he must be more perspicuous and intelligible in what he writes for the public. Whatever is, or is to be the growth of the mind, he must accommodate himself better to its present state, for we apprehend that it is not yet able to profit by his disquisitions on its powers. We are anxious that he should take our advice, because he appears to have that with- in him, which, if properly directed, might exert a strong and healthful influence on others. The following passages, though VOL. xxIV.No. 54. 9 66 Growth of the ~Mind. [Jan. tinged with the prevailing mysticism of the piece, are eloquent and beautiful. The natural world was precisely and perfectly adapted to invig- orate and strengthen the intellectual and moral man. Its first and highest use was not to support the vegetables which adorn, or the animals which cover its surface; nor yet to give sustenance to the human bodyit has a higher and holier object, in the attainment of which these are only means. It was intended to draw forth and mature the latent energies of the soul; to impart to them its own verdure and freshness; to initiate them into its own myste- ries; and by its silent and humble dependence on its creator, to leave on them when it is withdrawn by death, the full impression of his likeness. It was the design of Providence, that the infant mind should possess the germ of every science. If it were not so, they could hardly be learned. The care of God provides for the flower of the field, a place wherein it may grow, regale with its fragrance, and delight with its beauty. Is his providence less active over those, to whom this flower offers its incense? No. The soil which pro- duces the vine in its most healthy luxuriance, is not better adapt- ed to the end, than the world we inhabit to draw forth the latent energies of the soul, and fill them with life and vigor. As well might the eye see without light, or the ear hear without sound, as the human mind be healthy and athletic, without descending into the natural world, and breathing the mountain air. Is there aught in eloquence, which warms the heart? She draws her fire from natural imagery. Is there aught in poetry to enliven the imagination? There is the secret of all her power. Is there aught in science to add strength and dignity to the human mind ? The natural world is only the body, of which she is the soul. In books, science is presented to the eye of the pupil, as it were in a dried and preserved state; the time may come when the in- structer will take him by the hand, and lead him by the running streams, and teach him all the principles of science as she comes from her maker, as he would smell the fragrance of the rose with- out gathering it. pp. 19, 20. But what can be more irrelevant to the authors subject, what can be more unnecessary and useless, than the tilt which he soon after runs against rhyme. It may be peculiar, and is said with deference to the opinions of others, but to my ear, rhymes add nothing to poetry, but rather detract from its beauty. They possess too strongly the marks of art, and produce a sameness which tires, and sometimes disgusts. 1827.] Growth of the Mind. 67 We seek for them in vain in nature, and may therefore reasonably presume that thay spring out of the peculiar state of the public taste, without possessing any real foundation in the mii~d itself; that they are rather the fashion of the dress, than any essential part. In the natural world we find nothing which answers to them, or feels like thembut a happy assemblage of living objects springing up, not in strait lines and at a fixed distance, but in Gods own order, which by its apparent want of design, conveys the impression of perfect innocence and humility. It is not for that which is human to be completely divested of the marks of art; but every approach towards this end, must be an approach towards perfection. The poet should be free and unshackled as the eagle; whose wings, as he soars in the air, seem merely to serve the of- fice of a helm, while he moves on simply by the agency of the will.~,p. 25. True it is that every man has a right to his opinion and taste concerning rhyme. This we readily agree to. But why, in a treatise on the growth of the mind, it should come under such cruel censure, we can see no reason. And how the mind or the morals are to be benefited by the exclusion of rhyme from po~try, is to us incomprehensible. We confess ourselves partial to this kind of music; for music it certainly is. We wage no warfare against blank verse, or any other species of poetry; but we should regard the disuse of rhyme, as anything rather than an improvement. This however is not the place for a defence of it; nor was Mr Reeds pamphlet the place for an attack upon it. We introduced the passage, because we intended from the first to deal plainly with the writer, and with his whole performance; and to show how beauty in it was succeeded by defects, and de- fects were mingled and conjoined with beauty; to show how a singular acuteness was accompanied by a strange want of preci- sion; how boldness fought in vain, in the darkness, and usefulness was marred by mystery. We should not have dwelt thus long and thus seriously on the Observations, if we had not considered it in some respects a performance of more than common merit, and had ~ot entertain- ed a sincere respect for the talents of its author. If we have in- dulg~d a little in remarks which were other than seripus, it is not because we would cast a slight upon his opinions, but because we thought that some of them were inappropriately introduced, and enigmatically expressed. His love of nature, his unaffected piety, his high and manly sense of liberty, his confidence in hu-. 68 Lsfe of William Pinkney. [Jan. man progressiveness, and his longings after a higher and better state of the world than that which it now exhibits, are entirely delightful to us, and induce us to hope for some future produc- tion from his pen, in which we shall find more matter for admi- ration and less room for complaint. ART. V..-Some ~6Iccount of the L~fr, Writings, and Speeches of William Pinkney. By HENRY WHEATON. New York. C. & C. Carvill. 8vo. pp. 616. MR WIIEAToNs hook had been long enough before the pub- lic to have required, perhaps, a notice in our last number. We were the less anxious about the delay, however, as its interest is not of a transitory sort, but allied with a great and abiding name. That of Pinkney must attract a curiosity, as permaneat as the tradition of his eloquence, and as the juridical records in which * it so often and conspicuously recurs. Of a life so engrossed by strenuous intellectual labor, all stu- dents especially, in every department of knowledge, will he desi- rotis to know something. They will he curious to learn, whether these extensive conquests in the domain of professional learning were accomplished by irregular and abrupt incursions, or hy me- thodical and disciplined approaches; what influence they cast on his temper and habits; and innumerable minute particulars, which are interesting only from their connexion with genius. Many a doubting aspirer will seek, in the life of such a man, wherewithal to solve the question so often debated betwixt ease and glory, how far these trophies of learned fame are worth the cost of their acquisition. Readers of this description, and all, indeed, who love to observe conspicuous genius nearly and fa- miliarly, complain that the present volume is by no means so abundant in those characteristic touches, from which we love to combine for ourselves the portrait of genius, as might have been expected from the celebrity of its subject, and his recent death. The life of the studious and the contemplative seldom furnishes, it is true, that variety of interest which arises out of one of ac- tion and business. But Mr Pinkney, they observed, was not merely a closet man. He was conspicuous, and the subject of

68 Lsfe of William Pinkney. [Jan. man progressiveness, and his longings after a higher and better state of the world than that which it now exhibits, are entirely delightful to us, and induce us to hope for some future produc- tion from his pen, in which we shall find more matter for admi- ration and less room for complaint. ART. V..-Some ~6Iccount of the L~fr, Writings, and Speeches of William Pinkney. By HENRY WHEATON. New York. C. & C. Carvill. 8vo. pp. 616. MR WIIEAToNs hook had been long enough before the pub- lic to have required, perhaps, a notice in our last number. We were the less anxious about the delay, however, as its interest is not of a transitory sort, but allied with a great and abiding name. That of Pinkney must attract a curiosity, as permaneat as the tradition of his eloquence, and as the juridical records in which * it so often and conspicuously recurs. Of a life so engrossed by strenuous intellectual labor, all stu- dents especially, in every department of knowledge, will he desi- rotis to know something. They will he curious to learn, whether these extensive conquests in the domain of professional learning were accomplished by irregular and abrupt incursions, or hy me- thodical and disciplined approaches; what influence they cast on his temper and habits; and innumerable minute particulars, which are interesting only from their connexion with genius. Many a doubting aspirer will seek, in the life of such a man, wherewithal to solve the question so often debated betwixt ease and glory, how far these trophies of learned fame are worth the cost of their acquisition. Readers of this description, and all, indeed, who love to observe conspicuous genius nearly and fa- miliarly, complain that the present volume is by no means so abundant in those characteristic touches, from which we love to combine for ourselves the portrait of genius, as might have been expected from the celebrity of its subject, and his recent death. The life of the studious and the contemplative seldom furnishes, it is true, that variety of interest which arises out of one of ac- tion and business. But Mr Pinkney, they observed, was not merely a closet man. He was conspicuous, and the subject of 1827.] Life of William Pinkney. 69 some obloquy, on the political theatre; he was long engaged in negotiations full of expectation and interest, which brought him into contact with some of the most distinguished men of the age; he travelled in famous and classical countries; and the results, too, of these advantages, and of his untiring application, were not read silently in books, but were heard in courts of justice, and in senates, where they may be supposed to have left vivid and various impressions on the auditors. Many anecdotes, they think, illustrative of the character formed, and of opinions gather- ed, during this busy course of action, must be floating among his contemporaries, which, had they been more industriously sought by his biographer, would have relieved the dry and documentary air of his book. All this is very specious, but we are not sure that it is entirely just. The circumstance, that Mr Pinkucy resided so long abroad, removed him from among his contemporaries at home; and his habits of life and thought were such, when in this coun- try, as to bring him scarcely more under their close observation. But, besides this, who would think to measure the interest of a biography, by the importance of the part, which has been play- ed by its hero? A Reynolds in this respect surpasses a Hume. Even where the theatre is the same, the parts equally sei~iovs and important, and the personages inseparably connected in the eyes of mankind, a Pitt shall leave scarce any traces of himself, but those which are engraved by the pen of history, while a Na- poleon shall bequeath us the most ample and interesting of all the memoirs of men. Some accident of circumstance, hut more often of character, determines this point beyond the control of the most gifted biographer. The title of Mr Wheatons work is very unpretending. The work itself presents us, however, with some interesting fragments of the correspondence, writin s ,aud speeches of a very remarkable man; and it is as wise, perhaps, to thank him for having collected and preserved what might otherwise have perished, as to amuse ourselves with disquisitions on what he might have done. We shall proceed therefore, from our authors volume and from a few inconsiderable gleanings of our own, to throw together some brief notices of the character of this celebrated jurist, in connexion with a hasty sketch of the principal events of his life. William Pinkney was born at Annapolis, in Maryland, on the 17th of March, 1764. His father, whom he always spoke of as a man of firm temper, and of a strong and original cast of 70 Life of William Pinkney. [Jaii. mind, was an Englishman by birth, and took the part of the pa- rent country during the revolution. The boyish ardor, or wil- fulness, of young Pinkney was pleased with the adoption of op- posite sentiments; and one of the freaks of his patriotism was to escape from the vigilance of his parent, and mount night guard with the soldiers at the fort in Annapolis. He retained, to the end of his life, a strong partiality for his native town, and took a pleasure in pointing out to his intimates, especially the young, the scenes of his childsh toils and sports. His early education was imperfect; but this was less owiiig to the narrow circum- stances of his fattier, who spared no pains for his son, than to the disturbed state of the times. His private teacher, Brathand, left the country on this latter account; and the affection, wbich his pupil always continued to entertain for him, was warmly re- ciprocated by the preceptor, who, after the lapse of several years, expressed the greatest pleasure at meeting in England an acquaintance of Pinkneys, and was eager in his inquiries about him ; one of my greatest regrets, said he, in leaving America, was that I had to part from my promising pupil. They, who remember him at this period of life, describe him as already animated by that impatience of a superior, which char- acterized him at a later day, and which was, in some sort, both the strent~th and the weakness of his character. This temper was not confined to the rivalries of study, but extended to the rougher competitions of boyhood. One anecdote of the former he used to relate of himself, as a ruse which might be pardoned in a youth. There was a debating club in the town, of which Piuikney was a member. A question had been assigned for a certain evening, when all the polite company of the place was expected to attend; and our orator repaired early one morning to a secluded place in the vicinity, to prepare himself in solitude, against the coming occasion. His antagonist in the debate, who was also his chief competitor in the club, was there, however, before him; and our young aspirer took the benefit of some friendly skreen to overhear his declamation unobserved. The result, said he, was brilliant. In the evening my antagonists speech, which was well enough seasoned with rhetoric, was re- ceived with acclamation. But when I came to make my ex- tempore reply, which I had very earnestly prepared during the day, I was at home, as yon may guess, on every point. The night was mine, and thenceforth I was king of the club. It was a like display of rare talents in another society of the 1827.] Ljfeof William Pinkney. 71 same kind, which determined him to seek his fortune at the bar; and, like Chancellor King, and the late Master of the Rolls in England, he was indebted to the notice and friendship of dis- cernmg genius, for this fortunate change in his views. At the time we speak of, he was a student of physic under Doctor Goodwin, then an extensive practitioner in Baltimore, and was one of a small debating society of students of medicine, at one of whose meetings the late Judge Chase of Maryland happened to be present. Struck with the genius, the musical voice, and the energetic manner of Pinkney, as yet a mere lad, and quite unknown to him, he earnestly advised him to the study of law, inviting him to Annapolis, and offering him the free use of his li- brary, and whatever other aid he could afford him. Under this not least distinguished of the eminent lawyers who have been the boast of Maryland, Pinkney was deeply imbued with the learning of the realty, and in special pleading, that logic of the law, of which he afterwards became a master; and in 1786 he removed to Harford county, in his native state, to commence there the practice of his profession. From this time he rose rapidly in public confidence and hon- ors. He was chosen in 1788 a delegate from Harford to the state convention, which ratified the constilution of the United States; and, in the October of the same year, a member of the house of delegates. In 1790 he was elected to Congress; a station, which for professional reasons he declined; and he was several years a member of the executive council of Maryland. He was afterwards a delegate from Anne Arundel county, hav- ing removed to Annapolis, the county town, in 1792. He had married in 1789, the sister of Commodore Rodgers, a lady who still survives him. His professional assiduity continued, mean- time, unabated ; and while he held a distinguished rank in the councils of his native state, he rose gradually to the head of its bar. In his dress and personal habits, at this time, he was very wide of that niceness and minute precision, which, on his return from Europe, distinguished him, perhaps, to affectation. He indulged freely in the use of the sovereign weed, and culti- vated his popularity by mingling carelessly with his rustic con- stituents. At a later day he was very far from admitting society on the same easy terms, and punctiliously affected all the out- ward observances, which he conceived to belong to the manners of a gentleman, and to denote a perfect knowledge of high breeding. 72 14e of William Pinkney. [Jan. In 1796 he received a flattering evidence of the public sen- timent in his favor, in an unsolicited appointment by Washington, as one of the commissioners for the United States, under the seventh article of Jays Treaty with Great Britain. He accepted this appointment, hut not without reluctance, and embarked for London with his family, where he arrived in July of the same year. In the questions, which arose in the adjustment of the claims under this article of the treaty, his opinions, says his biographer, were finished models of judicial eloquence, uniting powerful and comprehensive argument with a copious, pure, and energetic diction. They are collected in the second part of Mr Wheatons work. He was engaged at the same time, in ad- justing the claim of the state of Maryland, to certain stock in the Bank of England, of which he succeeded in making a satisfac- tory arrangement. Of his observations on this new theatre, and at a period, too, of great political interest, we find little in the fragments of cor- respondence collected in the present volume. The extent and perfection of the arts of life, the active industry and splendid wealth, which he found in England, produced on him the usual impression. 1 have seen much, he says, that deserves the atteiition of him, who would be wise or happy. He ~vas pres- sent at the debate in the House of Commons on the rejection of Bonapartes overtures for peace in 1800, and often mentioned Mr Pitts speech on that occasion, as the most powerful and elo- quent he had ever heard. Of that energetic politician he always spoke as the greatest man he had ever seen, while Fox, he seemed to think, was much overrated. But he doubted the power of the allies to force the ancient dynasty on France; an event, which, though eventually accomplished, was postponed so long, and with such important effects on the condition of Europe, as to justify his doubt, and to beget suspicion of the policy of the memorable statesman, who led the combined force of Europe to the attempt. His strong inclination to his professional pursuits, rendered Mr Pinkney very impatient of the delays of the corn- mission, and anxious to return home; but his wishes in this re- spect were not gratified till August 1804, when he arrived in America, improved, indeed, in knowledge, but embarrassed in circumstances, and with the dreary prospect, to use his own words, of commencing the world at forty. Shortly after his return, he removed to Baltimore, and attended, for the first time, the Supreme Court of the United States at Washington. In 1827.] Ljfe of William Pinkney. 7S 1805 he was appointed attorney general of Maryland, and prose- cuted, for a time, the labors of the bar, with unwearied assi- duity, till the growing differences of this country with Great Britain, on the subjec.t of neutral trade, brought him again on the theatre of diplomacy. In April, 1806, he was appointed, by Mr Jefferson, Minister Extraordinary to the court of St James, to arrange, if possible, in conjunction with Mr Monroe, the resident minister there, the many important questions then at issue between the two cabinets, or, we should rather say, the two countries, as the interest, which they excited on both sides of the water, was diffused and violent in the highest degree. The progress, and unfriendly issue of this memorable nego- tiation, are familiar to most of our readers. That Mr Pinkney shared, in its full extent, the solicitude which was felt in this country, is discernible in the tone of his correspondence, and might be inferred from the perplexing circumstances, in which both the government of the United States, and its agents in France and England, were placed by the conflicting usurpations of these two powers. At this day, when we perceive that a war under such a conjuncture was inevitable, and have gathered from it so many fortunate results to public rights and national reputa- tion, it is perhaps to be regretted that our disputes were not sooner referred to the arbitrement of arms. Many circumstances however, some of which it is not very pleasant to recall, led our maritime enemy into mistakes, both as to the spirit and strength of this country, and no doubt deferred the step which we took in the end. Had it not been for these circumstances, the in- structions to our ministers at St Jamess would have been less conciliatory, for taking the tone of which, in his communications with that cabinet, Mr Pinkney has been sometimes accused of want of firmness and decision. To this subject Mr Madison al- ludes, in a passage of their correspondence quoted in the xvork; from which it may be gathered, also, that neither was insensible to the dissatisfaction, which was felt at some parts of iMr Pink- neys intercourse with the British government. Meanwhile our niggard frugality towards our foreign embassies, was adding pecuniary embarrassment to the other cares of his weary and respot~tsible post. His youthful earnings were dissipated, while the prime of his life was passing away in barren toil and anxi- ety. It is thus that he writes to Mr Madison; and he adds, in another letter, the compensation (as it is oddly called), allotted by the government to the maintenance of its representatives voL. xxIv.No. 54. 10 74 Lift of William Pinkney. [Jan abroad, is a pittance which no economy, however rigid, or even mean, can render adequate. Under these circumstances he solicited his recall; and took his audience of leave at Carlton House, in February, 1811, expressing the regret, which he pro- bably felt with some acuteness, that his efforts to effect a good understanding between the two countries, had proved so una- vailing. He arrived at Annapolis the following June, and war was declared a year afterwards. From this period commer~es the most brilliant part of Mr Pinkneys career, and that which was most akin to his own taste, and to his particular endowments of mind. Having availed himself, with singular diligence, of the opportunity which his residence in England afforded him, to become familiar with the forms and practice of its courts, and having consecrated to his favorite study all the leisure, which he could steal from less con- genial employments, he returned to our courts fraught with all the resources which, experience, reflection, and intimate con- verse with the most eminent lawyers and civilians of the time, may be supposed to have added to a vigorous and fertile genius. In the progress of our maritime war, many interesting questions of public law gave scope to his learning and ability; and the aid that he contributed to the erection of the system of Prize Law, which, in the absence of precedent, the Supreme Court was under the necessity of building up, is prominent in the judicial records of the times. In the December succeeding his return, be was appointed, by Mr Madison, Attorney General of the United States, and held the post till January, 1814, when, a bill having been introduced into the House of Representatives, re- quiring the residence of that officer at the seat of government, he resigned his office as incompatible, under such a restriction, with his other engagements. He had previously been chosen to the Senate of Maryland, and in 1815 he was elected from Baltimore, as its Representative in Congress. During our short but harassing war with Great Britain, he commanded a battalion of militia riflemen, and was severely wounded at the affair of Bladensburg. In March, 1816, he was once more called to a diplomatic station, being appointed Minister Plenipotentiary to Russia, and charged also with a special mission to Naples, at which city he landed in July, 1816. The business of this mission was com- pletely evaded by the artifices of the Neapolitan court, who hastened his departure by pretences, which they had no diffi 1827.] Life of William Pinkney. 75 culty to lay aside when he was fairly out of Naples. He pro- ceeded through Rome, and the other principal Italian cities, to Vienna. Some difficulty had arisen at this time with the em- peror of Russia, from the arrest of Kosloff, the Russian consul general in this country, in consequence of which Mr Harris, our Charge dAffaires at St Petersburg, had been forbidden to appear at court; and Mr Pinkney doubted the propriety, under such circumstances, of presenting himself in Russia as the American minister. But learning at Vienna, that this affair had been ar- ranged, he proceeded, by a long and comfortless winter journey, through Poland to St Petersburg. He remained there about two years, and returned finally to the United States in 1818. in 1820 he was elected a senator in Congress from Maryland, in which post he delivered his celebrated speech on the Mis- souri Question, and took part in the preliminary discussions on the Bankrupt Bill. Neither had years nor travel diminished the ardor of his professional pursuits. On the contrary, he con- tinued them, if possible, wi$still greater eagerness, endeavoring, he said, to compensate for the little of life that was left him, by economizing it more. To this feeling his anxiety to make provision for his family contributed, as much as his unquenchable love of reputation. But death surprised the champion in his vigor. It is well known that he spared no toil in the study and man- agement of his causes. On the seventeenth of February, 1822, he was attacked by a severe indisposition, in consequence of an effort of this sort. He had over exerted himself in the investi- gation and arguing of a case in the Supreme Court, in which he felt peculiar interest. He mentioned to a friend that he had sat up very late in the night on which he was taken ill, l~o read the Pirates, which was then just published, and made many remarks respecting it, draw- ing comparisons between the two heroines, and criticising the narrative and style with his usual, confident and decided tone, and in a way which showed that his imagination had been a good deal excited by the perusal. From this period till his death he was ~ considerable part of the time in a state of delirium. But in his lucid intervals, his mind reverted to his favorite studies and pursuits, on which, whenever the temporary suspension of his bodily sufferings enabled him, he conversed with great freedom and animation. Lie seems, however, to have anticipate(l that his ilness must have a fatal termination, and to have awaited the 76 Lift of William Pinkneg. [Jan. event with patient fortitude. After a course of the most acute suffering he breathed his last on the night of the twentyfifth of February. pp. 171172. Thus terminated the life of William Pinkney, a life so shared between public business and studious labor, that the hasty sketch which we have given, comprises nealy all its prominent inci~ dents. At his death he had not quite completed his flftyeighth year, an age at which men begin to reg~ird the termination of life, as an object hot very remote. But his person xvas yet robust, his complexion florid, and his general appearance such, aided as it was by the stndied carefulness of his toilet, as to give a strong impression of vi~orous health and tenaciousness of life. The force of his faculties too, which were not only unimpaired, but seemed only then to have attained full ripeness; the brilliancy of a career in which, though so long a victor, he was every day winning fresh laurels by fresh exertions; the very keenness of his relish for these gathered fruits of~his fame, and for the eharms of a life eminently successful; all these, as they appeared to promise a long postponement of the common fate, rendered it more affecting to the imagination, when it thus suddenly arrived. Apparently, however, he did not himself regard the seeds of his fate as so fat from their developement. His sanguine temperament, and plethorie habit of hody,led him to apprehend a sudden decay of life, or, at least, of his faculties; and he has been heard to speak of the fate of the celebrated Luther Martin in this par- ticular, as not unlikely to be his own. He xvas spared, however, this worst of the maladies of age. He did not linger through those melancholy displays of imbecility, which are caused by the receding tide of life, but seemed to rush to the termination of his course, as the busy torrent dashes onxvard to the sea. His death produced, both in the metropolis and through the country, a deep arid remarkable sensation. We call it remark- able, because it is seldom that mere professional renown, dis- connected as it is from popular passion, obtains for itself, in so gre at a degree, this last and melancholy reward of genius. Nor can xve impute it, certainly, even in the case of the remarkable individual in question, though he had rendered distinguished ser- vices at the bar, in the senate, and in diplomacy, to any fear that the business of either would suffer a pause from his death. The theatre of busy life never wants actors, and few are they, who may flatter themselves, that their exit will produce either ~8$27.J Lfe of William Pinkney. 77 disorder or vacancy in the scene. These losses of society, hoxvever grief or flattery may declaim on such occasions, are for the most part little felt, or speedily repaired. Giber talents, till then crowded from the stage, or unkindled by reward, press forward in the ever eager competition; and we daily sce the tomb close on virtue and genius, with as little perceptible effect on the great social machine, as on the sun and tbe breeze, which are feigned in the elegy of poets to darken, and siTh over their decay. It is a very few master spirits, that have the fortune to xveave the destinies of their race with their own, and to derange or sus- pend the business of life by their fall. We must re1~r, then, to a more poetical source, our emotion on the death of one of these intellectual heroes. Perhaps the harsh contrasts, always suggested by death, are heightened by oar conception of the mental power and activity which belong to genius. We con- template with pain the extinction of this subtle spirit, the defeat of its eager aspirations, its insensibility to its slow won honors, this sudden and wasteful dissipation of the gathered treasures of thought and knowledge. There was something astounding in the hasty close of a career characterized, like Mr Pinkucys, by such untiring energy to the last, and animated by the consenting applauses of partisans and competitors. He seemed to be cut off in medjo ~patio, while men yet looked for other triumphs, and ere he had reached, in his fervid conrse, the regular and appointed goal. Few men ever earned these garlands of the tomb, by a more inflexible l)ursuit of them through a whole life. In him the zeal of reputation was not one of many impulses obeyed by turns, and exciting him at intervals to unusual exertions~ it was, as we believe it almost always has been in those who have ~ar outgone their fellows, ever present and predominant, urging him, even more than that appetite of knowledge which grows by what it feeds on, to tbe perpetual accumulation of his intellec- tual stores. His emulation was infinite. I never heard him allow, said a friend of his, that any man was his superior in anything; in field sports, in music, in drawing ; especially ~n oratory, on which his great ambition rested. As this ea~cr am- bition thrust him early into the career of action, so it never seemed in any degree abated by success. it was the pabulum of his life ; and, as if to verify a notion of medicine, the stinmu lant itself at length brought the decay- of the spirit, xx hich it had fed and vivified ; for he sickened in the act of emulous exertion. L~fr of William Pinkney [Jaw In this respect, his whole life is a lesson to those ambitious spirits, that, like him, are consumed with the fever of renown, nd that would learn by what efforts continually repeated, by what earnest and fervent toil, the abrupt summits of fame, and more emphatically of legal fame, are overcome. While in England, and indeed during all his residence ahroad, Mr Piukney applied himself indefatigably to law studies. He seems to have appreciated justly his own mind, and, though di- verted from the bar for a time by diplomacy and politics, to have inclined to it constantly, as to the proper theatre of his particular abilities. Of his acquisitions in the vast and various field of professional learning, it would be idle in us to speak. But it will not be uninteresting to mention, that the wealth of his mind was never so unosteutatiously displayed, as in those unpremedi- tated disquisitions, which, as amrcus curiw, or in the progress of a cause, he was frequently called on to make. It was remark- able to observe at such times, how his knowledge seemed to have passed out of his memory into his judgment; in what abundance he heaped his analogies before you; and with what a precise logic he made them converge on his point. With all these previous accumulations of knowledge, he ap- proached every new cause with the ardor of one, who had yet his reputation to earn. He was never satisfied, says his bio- grapher, with exploring its facts, and all the technical learning which it involved. Nor was he inattentive to its rhetorical em~ bellishments, noting, even in the fictitious works with which he amused his leisure, or, to speak more justly, recreated his mind for new efforts, any allusion or image that could be turned to account. Towards the end of his life, he devoted himself al- most wholly to intellectual exertion of some kind. Thought, to borrow the phrase of one who knew him well, appeared to be the very breath of his mind. Study was necessary to his spirit, and so far from laborious, that when not engaged in it, or in some active corporeal exercise, he evinced very restless and uneasy feelings. On journeys, he read constantly in his car- riage, and even studied his causes there. A life thus wholly dedicate to closeness, and the bettering of his mind, did not require that methodical distribution, which inferior minds resort to, as a substitute for the power of constant application; nor did his various engagements permit it. His hours of study varied with his circumstances; but they increased progressively with his age. He sicpt little, and always with a light in his chamber:;. 1827.j Life of William Pinkney. 79 and might be heard stirring there at the earliest dawn, often re tiring to bed again after several hours reading. lie ate rapidly, drank wine freely at his meals, but never sat long at table, except on special occasions; and could retire at all times to his study with a mind disposed to severe labor. His general attainments were very considerable, and he was ambitious of showing, that he had wandered wide of the severe limits of techaical learning. He knew well the Latin classics, and had been flimiliar with the Greek; but the latter we are disposed to think, he neglected in later life. Of French litera- turn his knowledge was extensive. He was especially well versed in ancient and modern history, and in the belles lettres generally. Out of the natural sciences, in which it is believed his attainments were inconsiderable, he seemed to have read all th~ standard works of our language; and most of this miscel- laneous learning he acquired abroad. Of his literary predilec- t~ons we recollect only a few. Johnson, if he had a preference, was his favorite prose writer, chiefly, perhaps, because he thought his elaborate and elevated style a proper model for an orator; and Shakspeare, Pope, and Milton were his chosen poets. In the copy of the last in the possession of his family, all the remarkable passages are underlined; and he quoted them with readiness from memory. Comus be distinguished as the best sustained of English poems, in the elegant and curious felicity~ of its diction, and was fond of reciting aloud the pas- sages, which he thought most remarkable for harmony or sono- rousness. He piqued himself on knowin critically the elegan- cies of his own tongue; and, though he probably overrated his taste, his knowledge on this point was minute. His table was gencrally furnished with half a dozen works on prosody, and as many dictionaries; and he had a fancy for coining new words, or reviving obsolete ones, and then defending them by analogy, or by the authority of the classics. Of his euphuism, for so we may call it, which he sometimes displayed at the bar, to the an- noyance of his less literate brethren, he has left a somewhat di- verting record. tt is a copy of a bulky dictionary published some years ago in this country, all grievously underscored, and full of marginal remarks, petitions, and interrogatories addressed to the author, written with playful spleen, and craving to know the reason of the multifarious impurities which he had cast into the well of English undefiled. He possessed, in an eminent degree, that robustness of con- so L~fr of William Pinkney. [dati. stitution, which is hardly less necessary in study, than Napoleon deemed ii in war. On this point he displayed some vanity, and was very solicitous of personal nicety, on the score both of health and ap~earance. His recreations were mostly of the same robust so~t ; he was attached to field sports, and excelled in them; and, though lie seemed almost indefatigable, gene- rally returned from his sportIng excursions overcome with fa- tigue. But as he was of a sanguine melancholy temperament. he was apt to faiiey himself ill. At such times he diverted him- self with games of skill, in wWch he was a proflelent, such as chess, (Iraughts, and the like. lie was once quite a capital bil- liard player, and seldom met his equal in whist. In England lie amuseU himself very much with his children, mixing occasion- ally in their most childish sports. He used there to draxv, for one of his sons, almost every night, and, what perhaps few per- sons know, be handled the pencil like a master. He assisted, moreover, in teaching one of his daughters niusic, to which task he brought a good deal of skill, and an admirable ear. He was fond of the best novels, and, by way of mental dissipation, some- times liked to hear the worst; and when exhausted in mind, or depressed in spirits, would listen to any trash, romances from the Minerva press, French novels, and fairy tales. We have frequently seen him at the theatre, sitting out the worst plays, so bad, indeed, that he could be entertained only by their ab- surdity; and next day he would amuse hiniself with writing a Critique on the performance. The company of young persons, especially those of talent, was very attractive to him; and when oc- casion presented itself, he was pleased to do them any service. When they were assembled at his house, he would saunter from his study to the adjoining parlor, mingle in the topic or the jest of the moment, and then return. This he would repeat a dozen times in an evening. The reader perhaps may be pleased to compare these recol- lections of his private pursuits and habits, with those from anoth- er source. The foHowing passage is from a letter written hy a friend of his biographer, xvho was a good deal in his society at St Petersburg. I arrived in St Petersburg in the month of June, 1817. I cairied a letter of introduction to Mr Piukucy from our friend, Mr Justice Story. Mr P. received me at once with the greatest kindness and hospitality. He told me almost the first time I saw him, that lie should not make a single dinner for me, or receive me with ceremony; but if I would consider myself a member of j3)7 j I ~4f;? ( JKVillicim Pinkaey. ~3i his family, and take a scat at his table constantly, xvhen not other- xvise engaged, he should be gra~ifred. As I 500fl foun(l he was in earnest, I accepted his offer almost to its full extent. I passed about two months in the city, lod~ing at the same hotel with him, and domesticated with his family. I saw him every day, and at almost every meal; and the recollections 1 have of the pleasure enjoyed in his society, are amongst those I shall lon test retain. Of his past life he did not speak much. I inferred, however, that he had always been a hard stu1ent, aad considered himself a laborious and thorough scholar in those branches of human knowledge to which he had more particularly devoted himself I remember that he once said to rae, that he considered the late Mr Chief Justice Parsons and himself the only men in America who had thoroughly studied and understood Coke Littleton. He appeared to estimate the legal acqilirements of our professional men as of little extent, generally speaking, arid to think he gave himself but little credit in thinking that he had learnt more law than any other man in the country. He kept himself very much in private, living so (as he said) from motives of econoc~y. tie was in lod~in gs at the Hotel de lEurope, and saw no company ceremoniouslythat is, he gave no dinners, & c. He had made it known to the diplomatic circle there when he first arrived, that he should live in that style, and therefore could not recil)rocate their civilities. They, however, visited him a good deal, and he accepted their invitations fre- quently. I understood from various quarters, arid inferred from what I saw, that he stood very particularly well with the Emperor, his family, and l)rincipal ministers. his l)ersonai habits were very peculiar. His neatness, and attention to the fashionable costume of the day, were carried to an extreme, which exposed him while at home to the charge of foppery and affectation. But it should be remembered how large a portion of his life he had spent abroad, and in the highest circles of European society. Though he undoubtedly piqued hiniself upon being a finished and elegant gentleman, yet his manners and habits of dress were, as it always seemed to me, acquired in Europe; and so far from being re- markable there, they were in exact accordance with the common and established usages of men of his rank and station. All who havebeen at any of the European courts know that their states- men and ministers consider it a necessary part of their character to pay great attention to the clegancies and refinements of life and after a day passed iii the laborious discharge of th ir duties, will spend their evenings in society, and contribute quite theft share of pleasant trifiin~. it is their mani~re dctie, Ii 82 Lift of William Pinkney. [Jaw During the summer that I passed with Mr Pinkney, his person- al habits were very regular I-Ic hreakth~ted late and heartily. Then he retired to his study, and we saw hhn no more until dinner at six oclock. The evenin.~ he passe(l with his family, or in visiting, lie took very little exercise, eat and drank freely, and I thought suffered occasionally from the usual effects of a plethoric habit, with much indulrence as to food, and no atten- tion to exercise. Undoubtedly his extreme attention to personal cleanliness contributed much to preserve his health. His family saw little company at home or abroad; he appeared to be ex- trernely fond of them, and satisfied with passing his evenings in their society. pp. 157,158. It might be inferred from his fondness for history, that he was a eur~oi~ traveller, especially in the classical region of Italy. He spoaks, in a conversation quoted by Mr Wheaton, of his desire to visit th~~t classic land, and of the feelings with which he should set foot on its shores. His enthusiasm, however, was very moderate. He was not an inquisitive traveller; he staid but eight days in Rome, an(l exhibited, we are told, nothing more than a decorous curiosity. He had an interview with the Pope, and was treated by him with rent distinction. He was not much addicted to discourse on the character of the countries he passed through, or make comparisons between them, think- ing, perhaps, as those who see the most are often apt to think, that their essential differences are small. Of company he saw much more, both in England and Russia, than in his own country, perhaps from the nature of his station at their courts, and the weight of his avocations at home; but more probably from a ly, acdjnire(l by long residence in it. preference of forei~n socie He has sketched some of the members of the ruling family of Russia, in the following letter to his daughter, Mrs Williams. The Empress Mother is still a charming woman, and when young must have been extremely handsome. She may be said to do the honors of this splendid court, and it is fit that she should. Her manners are infinitely pleasing, at the same time that they are lofty; and she is a perfect mistress of the arts of conversa- tiomi. She is, moreover, exemplary in all the relations of life, and is beloved for her goodness by all classes. Of the reigning Empress it is impossible to speak in adequate terms of praise. It is necessary to see her to be able to com- prehend how wonderfully interesting she is. It is no exaggera- tion to say, that with a slight abatement for the effects of time and severe affliction (produced by the loss of her children), she 1827.] l2rfe of William Pinkney. 83 combines every charm that contributes to female loveliness, with all the qualities that peculiarly become her exalted station. Her figure, although thin, is exquisitely fine. Her countenance is a subduing picture of feeling and intelligence. her voice is of that soft and happy tone that goes directly to the heart, and awakens every sentiment which a virtuous woman can be ambitious to ex- cite. Her manner cannot be described or imagined. It is grace- ful, unaffectedly gentle, winning, and at the same time truly dig- nified. Her conversation is suited to this noble exterior. Adapted with nice discrimination to those to whom it is addressed, unos- tentatious and easy, sensible and kind, it captivates invariably the wise and good, and (what is yet more difficult) satisfies the frivojous without the slightest approach to frivolity. If universal rel)ort may be credited, there is no virtue for which this incompar- able woman is not distinguished; and I have reason to be confi- dent from all that I have observed and heard, that her understand- ing (naturally of the highest order) has been embellished and in- formed to an uncommon degree by judicious, and regular, and various study. it is not, therefore, surprising that she is alike adored by the inhabitant of the palace and the cottage, and that every Russian looks up to her as to a superior being. She is, indeed, a superior being, and would be adored, although she were not surrounded by imperial pomp and power. pp. 155, 156. The ensuing sketch of Mr Pinkneys person is, with some other particulars, from the hand of a gentleman, who, during a few years preceding his death, was on a footing of intimacy with him. In frame Mr Pinkney was robust, square shouldered, and firm set. His complexion was clear and florid, disclosing the smaller veins under the skin. His face full, his eye of a (lead blue, variable iu its expression, and quickly lighted up by ex- citement. His nose was small, turning a little upward; the eye- brow thinly clothed, and forming a marked protuberance, which was very conspicuous in his profile. His forehead was low and retreating; his lips thin, the corners of his mouth pointing down- ward a very little; his chin small. His head was oval, thinly covered with short brown hair of a silky texture; it was flat- tened on each side, arid showed his ears in high relief; in that, and in some other respects, however different the tour ensemble, closely resembling the head of La Fayette. Although the ha- bitual expression of his face was mirthful, it was deeply furrowed with the lines of thought. Under his eyes hung heavy circles, and his cheeks were defined by strong boundaries passing from 34 Lift of liilliwn Pinkne~p [Jan~ each nostril. These two were the predominant characteristic. of his countenance. His carriage was more than erect ; it might be called perpen- dicular. His action and gesture, emphatic at all times, seemed to bear defiance as if by habit, and to denote a temperament al- most incapable of fatigue. He was alxvays on his feet, even in his study, and his walk was firm and elastic. Sickness scarcely deprived him of this quality. his ardor was irrepressible, and na- ture seeu)ed to have given him personal vigor, correspondent to the aspirations of his mind. He took the utmost pains with his dress, and encouraged the same particularity in this respect, among his young friends. His toilet ~as seldoni made less than twice in the day; but he scarcely ever changed his dress to meet the fashions ; havin6 adopted that style, I suppose, which he thought best adapted to show off 1115 1 son. As he carried his head high, his cravat was adjusted to that position. He constant 1)7 wore a white vest, huttoned up to the chin with gilt buttons; a blue frock and black stock in the morning, a la militaire, a style that he seemed to be fond of; but he appeared generally in the evening nearly in full dress, his garments adjusted almost to constraint, though they suhjected him, apparently, to no in- convenience. In short, his exterior was that of a man of leisure and fashion, and seemed to show the training of high and formal company. It was after the English school, with its regulated movement, disciplined patience, and, to my taste, ungraceful constriction. Of his genius, whether in diplomacy or in the forum, the esti- mate has, we believe, been very correctly made hy the public. Such as are curious to see to what extent of learning, such pow- er of application, allied with such force of mind, may carry a man in a particular science, will regret, perhaps, that he ever wandered beyond the rugged tracts of his profession ; while others may lament, that so happy a genius should l1ave been expended on a kind of learning wholly technical, and which, being therefore remote from vulgar apprehension, neither allows the uninitiated to estimate the acumen it requires, nor enriches the mind proportionably to the toil of acquisition. We shall not inquire, whether the laborers in the mine of the law, are re- warded lbr their expense of toil in skill, nor whether we are to assi n it a first rank among sciences which humanize the mind. Be this as it may, Mr Pinkney seemed horn for his profession; and he would probably have made the pyramid of his re 1827.] Lffe of William Pinkacy. 85 flown yet broader and higher, had he never been tempted aside from his task by less congenial pursuits. In diplomatic ability, so far as it is constituted by a large acquaintance with public law, a perfect understanding of the questions arising on it, and skill to disentangle their complexities, be did not fall short of any of the great names opposed to him. That he failed in address, is likely enough from the general turn of his character, especially a tincture of personal vanity, which, while it gave to more adroit negotiators an assailable point, would not permit him to suspect that he could be deceived or circumvented. rrhence, even a cunning Neapolitan diplomatist might be an overmatch for him. No diplomatic position could be imagined, however, more embarrassing and vexatious, than the precise one he was placed in at St Jamess. TWO colossal belligerents mutually en- croaching on the rights of a neutral, whose true place in the po- litical scale was not yet understood, its own government hardly prepared for the last resort, and the nation itself distracted by two fierce parties; these were circumstances in which the most consummate adroitness might have failed to unite all suifrages in its favor. As a statesman his views were sound; but his most successful efforts were, naturally, on points connected with his professional studies. But, as his biographer remarks, in tracing the principal out- lines of his public character, his professional talents and attain- ments must necessarily occupy the most prominent place. To extraordinary natural endowments, Mr Pinkney added deep and various knowledge in his profession. A long course of study and practice had familiarized his mind with the science of jurispru- dence. His intellectual powers were most conspicuous in the investigations connected with that science. He had felt himself originally attracted to it by invincible inclination; it was his prin- cipal pursuit in life; and he never entirely lost sight of it in his occasional deviations into other pursuits and employments. The lures of political ambition and the blandishments of polished socie- ty, or perhaps a vague desire of universal acomplishment and gen- eral applause, might sometimes tempt him to stray for a season from the path which the original beat of his genius had assigned him. But he always returned with fresh ardor and new delight to his appropriate vocation, lie was devoted to the law with a true enthusiasm; and his other studies and pursuits, so far as they had a serious object, were valued chiefly as they might minister to this idol of his affections. It was in his profession that he found himself at home; in this 86 Li/C of ~j/j~fj~n~ Pinkney. [Jan. consisted his pride and his pleasure; for as he said, the bar is not the place to acquire or preserve a false and fraudulent repu- tation for talents. And on that theatre he felt conscious of pos- sessing those powers which would command success. This entire devotion to his professional pursuits was continued with unremitfmg perseverance to the end of his career. if the celebraLd Denys Talon could say of the still more celebrated DAnguesseau, on hearing his first speech at the bar, that he would willingly END as that young man COMMENCED, every youth- ful aspirant to forensic fame among us might wish to begin his professional exertions with the same love of labor, and the same ardent desire of distinction which marked the efforts of William Pinkney tiiroughout his life. The editor well remembers in the last, and one of his most able pleadings in the Supreme Court, remonstrating with him upon the necessity of his refraining from such laborious exertions in the actual state of his health, and with what vehemence he re- plied, that he did not desire to live a nzoinent after the standing he had acquired at the bar was lost, or even brought into doubt or question. What might not be expected from professional emulation di- rected by such an ardent spirit and such singleness of purpose even if sustained by far inferior abilities! But no abilities, however splendid, can command success at the bar without intense laior and persevering application. It was this which secured to Mr Pinkney the most extensive and lucrative practice ever acquired by any American lawyer, arid which raisedhim to such an envia- ble height of l)rofessional eminence. For many years he was the acknowledged leader of the bar in his native State; and during the last ten years of his life, the principal period of his attendance in the Supreme Court of the nation, he enjoyed the reputation of having been rarely equalled and perhaps never excelled in the power of reasoning upon legal subjects. This was the faculty which most remarkably distinguished him. His mind was acute and subtle, and at the same time comprehensive in its grasp, rapid and clear in its conceptions, and singularly felicitous in the expo- sition of the truths it was employed in investigating. Of the extent and solidity of his legal attainments, it would be difficult to speak in adequate terms, without the appearance of exaggeration. He was profoundly versed in the ancient learning of the common law; its technical peculiarities and feudal origimi. Its subtle distinctions and artificial logic were familiar to his ear- ly studies, and enabled him to expound with admirable force and perspicuity the rules of real property. lIe was familiar with every branch of comumercial law; and superadded, at a later period of 1827.] Life of William Pinkney. 87 his life, to his other legal attainments, an extensive acquaintance with the principles of international law, and the practice of the Prize Courts. In his legal studies he preferred the original text writers and reporters, (~ fontibus kauriri,) to all those abridg- ments, digests~ and elementary treatises, which Lend so many con- venient helps and facilities to the modern lawyer, but which he considered as adapted to form sciolists, and to encourage indo.. lence and superficial habits of investigation. His favorite law book was the Coke Littleton, which he had read many times. Its principal texts he had treasured up in his memory, and his argu- meats at the bar abounded with perpetual recurrences to the prm- ciples and analogies drawn from this rich mine of common law learning. pp. 176, 183. He was, indeed, a wonderful legal logician. As an orator it is a more delicate task to estimate his pretensions. On this point he was eminently ambitious; the more so, perhaps, as he might consider it less certain. In the parliament and courts of Great Britain, the last then adorned by Sir William Scott and Lord Erskine, he found a style of oratory more classical and embellished than was usual at the bar of America; and, if we may trust tradition, his study of that model impaired both the fire and the ease of his natural rhetoric. Mr Wheaton tells us, that he always continued to declaim in private, and that it was his habit to premeditate, not only the general order of his speeches, and the topics of illustration, but the rhetorical embellishments; which last he sometimes wrote out beforehand. We have been informed by one well acquainted with his habits, that he seldom or never wrote any part of his speeches. But the discrepancy may be reconciled by remembering, that the premeditated compositions of so trained a mind would be little the less perfect, in not being committed to paper. But, though his law papers might have been drawn up with much care, and might have exhausted the subjects committed to his consideration, it does not appear that they, or any of his written productions, cost him much effort. On the contrary he compos- ed with great rapidity, writing his letters, diplomatic papers and opinions extremely fast, and with so heavy a hand as to cut con- stantly through the paper. It was only after his return from his second mission to England, that we had the opportunity of witnessing ourselves any of his forensic displays. His manner, at that time, was certainly very peculiar; but, to our apprehension, it seemed not so much ting- ed with foreign imitations, as by his own peculiarities of mind Life of William Pinkney. [Jan~ and taste. It was apparently studied to the minutest action and we knuw that he practised much before the mirror. The defects of his manner may be imputed, therefore, to a vicious taste; for no man seemed to enjoy more self-possession, and few, a greater facility of reaching what he intended. At the begin- ning, he spoke in low and indistinct murmurs, as if he were con- juring up the spirit of his elocution by muttered incantations. Du- ring this period his action was constrained, and there was a show of timidity, which notwithstanding his usual confidence, was sometimes unaffected. In some of his latest efforts at the bar, where the occasion had drawn public expectation towards him, his lips have been seen to part with their color, his cheeks to turn pale, and his knees to shake. He has often said, that he never addressed an audience without some painful and embar- rassing emotions in the beginning. As he advanced, these boy- ish tremors disappeared; he became bold, erect, and dictatorial; his voice swelled from its low notes, which were extremely mu- sical, always parting with its charm as it rose ; though his high notes were rather inarticulate and imperfect than harsh. He spoke with great vehemence, rushing from thought to thought with a sort of ferocity; his eye fiery, his nostrils distended, and his lips covered with froth, which he would wipe away. His gesture was quite as peculiar. His right arm was not brandish- ed in the usual manner, but brought in frequent sweeps alon0 his side; his right foot advanced, and his body alternately thrown back, as if about to spring, and heaved forward again, as if in act to strike down his adversary; big drops of sweat all the while coursing along their channels from his forehead. This heat and tempest of his passion, he would sustain through pe- riods, that might have mastered the sturdiest frames. The im- pression, which this violence made on his auditory, was of course, not always advantageous to the orator. It was too much the habit of his manner, to gain the credit of being excited by his subject, and threw over his best efforts a frigidness, which was not diminished by the circumstance, that he never seemed so lost in the current of his thought, as to forget altogether the eagerness-of display. He never pressed so earnestly to his goal, as not to be turned aside by the golden glitter of an ornament. He became sensible to the vices of his elocution at a later day, and in some of his speeches avoided those of his manner almost entirely. His success in this reform, at an age when most men find their habits too rigid for change, proves how much he could fashion himself to his own taste. I 827J Lift of Williant Pinkucy. 69 With all these faults of manner, it were rash and unjust to deny, that Mr Pinkney was an orator. Neither the wit, nor the thought, nor the harmony of Pope, has, in the opinion of some critics, enrolled him among poets, because he wanted the invention and the passion of his art. In the same qualified sense we might, perhaps, deny to this great champion of the bar the prize of orato- ry, which be so earnestly contended for, and to which he brought so many important pretensions, extent of learning, compass of thought, a forcible logic, felicity of illustration, and a correct and polished diction. To some, who remember the vehemence of manner which we have described, and the ambitiousness of his illustration, it may seem a strange heresy to deny him the praise of true fervor and rich invention ; yet, as his warmth appeared to us to be that of the rhetorician, so his figures seemed cold, and rather embroidered on the web of his discourse, than woven into it. Nor do we impute this, we acknowledge, to the af- fectation of a model, but to an original deficiency of some of the qualities neccessary to eloquence, and, among the rest, that unde- finable power of enchaining the sympathy of the hearers. His ambition of display sometimes weakened the force of his argu- ment, engaged him in the pursuit of too remote analogies, and retarded his approach to the point, at which he aimed. Even his diction, admirable as it was, cannot be entirely commended; wearing often the air of too much elaboration, and being some- times disfigured by affectations; so that this vehicle of his thought did not always move easily along, from the number and quaintness of its ornaments. His kits, if we may be allowed the word, were sometimes felicitous and witty, but they often ended in a cold conceit, and were not always edged ~vith courtesy. Yet no man could hear him for an hour, without owning, that he was a noble genius and an elegant scholar; and the instances were very rare, in which any person, who had listened to him once, however much he might be dissatified with his manner and peculiarities, would not return with renewed delight to wit- ness his successive efforts. To the time of his last public ap- pearance in Washington, the court room was always thronged with the wise, the learned, the fashionable, when it was known tIfat he was to speak; and he uniformly riveted the attention of his auditors, through the technical details of his longest and dry- est arguments. The combined causes of this charm we shall not ~tttempt to analyze; they may all be ultimately traced to the workings of an intellect, po~verful in its original gifts, adorn- von. xxrv.No. 54. L~fe of William Pinkuey. [Jan. ed by culture, and enriched with acquisitions gained by a life of studious toil and active experiment. We insert the following passages from a pamphlet, published by him under the signature of Publius, after the commencement of the late war, and in defence of its policy, as among the best specimens of the style of his written compositions. Nothing is more to be esteemed than peace, (I quote the wisdom of Polybius,) when it leaves us jn possession of our houor and rights; but when it is joined with loss of freedom, or with infamy, nothing can be more detestable and fatal. I speak with just confidence, when I say that no ti~deralist can be found who desires with more sincerity the return of peace than the re- publican government, by which the war was declared. But it de- sires such a peace as the companion and instructer of Scipio has praised; a peace consistent with our right.s and honor, and not the deadly tranquillity which may be purchased by disgrace, or taken in barter for the dearest and most essential claims of our trade and sovereignty. I appeal to you boldly; are you prepared to purchase a mere cessation of arms by unqualified submission to the pretensions of England? Are you prepared to sanction them by treaty and to entail them upon your posterity, with the inglo- rious and timid hope of escaping the wrath of those whom your fathers discomfited and vanquished? Are you prepared for the sake of a present profit, which the circumstances of Europe must render paltry and precarious, to cripple the strong wing of Amer- ican commerce for years to come, to take from our flag its nation- al effect and character, and to subject our vessels on the high seas, and the brave men who navigate them, to the municipal ju- risdiction of Great Britain? I know very well that there are some amongst us (I hope they are but few), who are prepared for all this and more; who pule over every scratch occasioned by the war, as if it were an overwhelming calamity, and are only sorry that it is not worse; who would skulk out of a contest for the best interests of their country to save a shilling or gain a cent; who, having inherited the wealth of their ancestors without their spirit, would receive laws from London with as much facility as woollens from Yorkshire, or hardware from Sheffield. But I write to the great body of the people, who are sound and virtuous, and worthy of the lega~y which the heroes of the revolution have bequeathed them. For them, I undertake to answer, that the only peace which they can he made to endure, is that which may twine itself round the honor of the people, and with its healthy and abundant foliage give shade and shelter to the prosperity of the empire. As the war was forced upon us by a long series of unexampled 1827.] L~ ft of William Pinkney. 9 aggressions, it would be absolute madness to doubt, that peace will receive a cordial welcome, if she returns without ignominy in her train, and with security in her hand. The destinies of Ainer ica are commercial, and her true policy is peace; but the su6- stance of peace had, long before we were roused to a tardy resis- tance, been denied to us by the ministry of England; and the shadow, which had been left to mock our hopes and to delude our imaginations, resembled too much the frowning spectre of war to deceive any body. Every sea had witnessed, and continued to witness, the systematic persecution of our trade and the unrelent- ing oppression of our people. The ocean had ceased to be the sate highway of the neutral world; and our citizens traversed it with all the fears of a benighted traveller, who trembles along a road beset with banditti, or infested by the beasts of the forest. The government, thus urged and goaded, drew the sword with a visible reluctance; and, true to the pacific policy which kept it so long in the scabbard, it will sheathe it again, when Great Britian shall consult her own interest, by consenting to forbear in future the wrongs of the past. The disposition of the government upon that point has been decidedly pronounced by facts which need no commentary. From the moment when war was declared, peace has been sought by it with a steady and unwearied assiduity, at the same time, that every practicable preparation has been made, and every nerve ex- erted to prosecute the war with vigor, if the enemy should persist in his injustice. The law respecting seamen, the Russian mis- sion, the instructions sent to our Charg6 dAffaires in London~ the prompt and explicit disavowal of every unreasonable pretension falsely ascribed to us, and the solemn declarations of the govern- ment in the face of the world, that it wishes for nothing more than a fair and honorable accommodation, would be conclusive proofs of this, if any proofs were necessary. But it does not re- quire to be proved, because it is self evident. What interest, in the name of common sense, can the government have (distinctly from that of the whole nation) in a war with Great Britain? It is obvious to the meanest capacity, that such a war must be ac- companied by privations, of which no government would hazard the consequences, but upon the suggestions of an heroic patriotism. The President and his supporters have never been ignorant that those who suffer by a war, however unavoidable, are apt rather to murmur against the government than against the enemy, and that while it presses upon us, we sometimes forget the compulsion un- der which it was commenced, and regret that it was not avoided with a provident foresight of its evils. It will, therefore, be no easy matter to persuade you that this Diplomacy of the United States. [Jan. war was courted by an administration who depend upon the pes pie for their power, and are proud of that dependence; or that it will be carried on with a childish obstinacy, when it can be termi- nated with honor and with safety. You have, on the contrary, a thousand pledges that the government was averse to war, and will give you peace the instant peace is in its power. You know, moreover, that the enemy will not grant i tasa boon, and that it must be wrung from his necessities. It comes to this, then; whom will you select as your champions to extort it from him? upon whom will you cast the charge of achieving it against him in the lists? Mr Wheatons work contains other extracts from his corre- spondence, and some of his opinions and speeches, which, if they fail to interest the general reader, will give the work a place in the libraries of lawyers and political inquirers. ART. VI.The Diplomacy of the United States; beino~ an ./lccount of the Foreign Relations of the Country, fro~n the First Treaty with France, in 1778, to the Treaty of Uhent, rn 1814, with Great Britain. Svo. pp. 379. Boston. Wells & Lilly. 1826. THE establishment of a new empire in the western hemi- sphere, by the separation of the North American colonies from Great Britain, has been justly considered as constituting a new era in the political world. The events, whether political or mili- tary, which produced that extraordinary revolution, as well as those, which led to the formation of the institutions peculiar to this new republic, together with the influence, which this revo- lution and these institutions have had on the civilized world, are daily becoming more and more interesting objects of inquiry. No contribution, therefore, to the political or military history of this country can fail of a favorable reception from the American public. The political transactions of the United States, espe- cially those concerning their connexions with foreign nations are much less known than those of a military character. Movements in the field, as well as their causes, are more easily ascertained and oftener become subjects of historical research, than those m the cabinet. In the latter, greater secrecy is often required,

Diplomacy of the United States. [Jan. war was courted by an administration who depend upon the pes pie for their power, and are proud of that dependence; or that it will be carried on with a childish obstinacy, when it can be termi- nated with honor and with safety. You have, on the contrary, a thousand pledges that the government was averse to war, and will give you peace the instant peace is in its power. You know, moreover, that the enemy will not grant i tasa boon, and that it must be wrung from his necessities. It comes to this, then; whom will you select as your champions to extort it from him? upon whom will you cast the charge of achieving it against him in the lists? Mr Wheatons work contains other extracts from his corre- spondence, and some of his opinions and speeches, which, if they fail to interest the general reader, will give the work a place in the libraries of lawyers and political inquirers. ART. VI.The Diplomacy of the United States; beino~ an ./lccount of the Foreign Relations of the Country, fro~n the First Treaty with France, in 1778, to the Treaty of Uhent, rn 1814, with Great Britain. Svo. pp. 379. Boston. Wells & Lilly. 1826. THE establishment of a new empire in the western hemi- sphere, by the separation of the North American colonies from Great Britain, has been justly considered as constituting a new era in the political world. The events, whether political or mili- tary, which produced that extraordinary revolution, as well as those, which led to the formation of the institutions peculiar to this new republic, together with the influence, which this revo- lution and these institutions have had on the civilized world, are daily becoming more and more interesting objects of inquiry. No contribution, therefore, to the political or military history of this country can fail of a favorable reception from the American public. The political transactions of the United States, espe- cially those concerning their connexions with foreign nations are much less known than those of a military character. Movements in the field, as well as their causes, are more easily ascertained and oftener become subjects of historical research, than those m the cabinet. In the latter, greater secrecy is often required, 4827.] Diplomacy of the United States. 93 and this secrecy sometimes continues, long after the occasion for it has ceased. Under the old system of government, Congress held their delib- erations in secret, and very little of their foreign correspondence has yet been made public. No inconsiderable part of the foreign correspondence, under the new form of government, is now be- fore the public ; while the earlier correspondetice between the United States and foreign nations still remains in the archives of the Secretary of State. In 1818, the national legislature ordered the journal of the general convention, to- gether with the secret journal and foreign correspondence of Congress, from their first meeting, to the peace of 1783, to be published, under the direction of the President of the United States, with the exception of such parts of the for- eign correspondence, as he might deem it improper to publish. By a second order, papers of a similar description, from 1783, to the commencement of the new government, were included. Under these orders, the journal of the convention, and the secret journals of Congress, have been published. The publication of the foreign correspondence has hitherto been delayed. The delicacy, as well as labor, of making a selection from such a voluminous mass of papers, may, perhaps, have been one of the causes of this delay. The publication of these important state papers, in connexion with the secret journals, would add greatly to the general stock of materials for American history, and would, no doubt, tend to increase the reputation of those American statesmen, who, during that period, were principally employed in foreign transactions. Many of them would proba- bly be found of the same high character, with those state papers published by Congress, at the commencement of the Revolution, which Lord Chatham declared to equal any productions of the free states of antiquity. The Diplomacy of the United States, a work which has been presented to the public during the present year~ is, we believe, the first publication of the kind relating to America. It is con- fined to the diplomatic part of American history; and the author has judiciously availed himself of the various state papers which have been published, not only in this country, but in Europe. From these and other sources, he has drawn up a valuable summary of this important and interesting part of the history of the United States. The account of the negotiations of this country with each of the European nations is given by 94 Diplomacy of the United States. (Jaw itself, in a distinct chapter. The author commences the se- cond chapter of his work with the following remarks. The means of intercourse, possessed by the confederation with foreign nations, were exceedingly limited; of the States in Europe, most able to assist them, they had known but little ex- cept as enemies. They had, in various wars, taken an active part with the mother country against France, and had powerfully, and very cheerfully, contributed to the conquest of the French possessions in North America. Indeed, one of the principal motives of the Convention at Albany, held in 1754, and consist- ing of commissioners from eight of the colonies, was to agree on a scheme of mutual protection against the encroachments of the French and Indians, at that time always allies, Their trade had also been constantly subject to the seventies and restrictions of the colonial system; and at the period of the Revolution was con- fined to Great Britain, the West Indies, Africa, and Europe, south of Cape Finisterre. It is not, therefore, to be expected that they could look abroad with much confidence or hope of re- lief. The principal European states possessed colonies. Amer- ica labored, on that account, under the peordiar disadvantage of seeking aid and encouragement from governments, whose policy it would always be, to resist the principles the confederation as- serted. Revolutions were at that time not so common as they have since become. The act of the Americans was, with the ex- ception of two very slight affairs of the Pretender in Great Brit- ain, the only instance of rebellion, that had occurred among civilized nations in that century. The governments of Eu- rope appeared, moreover, at this crisis, to be strong and pros- perous. Monarchy was never, in appearance, more firmly estab- lished, or colonies of all descriptions, in more complete subjection. It is not likely that the American colonies, in the outset, ex- pected assistance from abroad. The Revolutionary war, though events had been setting with a silent, but most unerring course, to that extremity since 66, was little anticipated in 74, the year of the first meeting of the Delegates in Philadelphia. This war final- ly broke out in a very unexpected manner, and spread with a ra- pidity equally astonishing. It is the first illustration, we have in history, of the effects of strong excitement on a people well edu- cated and perfectly free. pp. 17, 18. The colonists did not apply to foreign alliances to assist them, in their struggle against the unconstitutional and arbitrary claims of their parent country, until the last hope of reconciliation had vanished. When their second humble petition to the king had teen rejected with contempt; when, by a solemn act of Parlia 1827.] Diplomacy of the United States. 95 ment, they had been thrown out of the protection of the British government, when thousands of foreign mercenaries were en- gaged to force them to submission; then, and not till then, did they declare themselves independent, establish governments of their own, and seek foreign alliances. They had, indeed, previously taken measures to sonnd some of the powers of Europe, on the subject of assistance, in case a separation from Great Britain should be ultimately found necessary. For this purpose a secret committee was ap- pointed by Congress in November, 1775, consisting of Dr Frank- lin, Mr Harrison, Mr Johnson, Mr Dickinson, and Mr Jay. This committee were to correspond with their friends in Europe, and other parts of the world. They had their agents in Europe, among whom was Arthur Lee in London, and Mr Dumas in holland. in March, 1776, this committee sent Silas Deane, a delegate in Congress from Connecticut, as a political and com- mercial agent to France, to solicit supplies of arms, ammunition, and clothing from the French court, or from whatever quarter they could be obtained. He was particularly instructed, to as- certain whether, if the colonies should be forced to form them- selves into an independent state, France would probably acknow- ledge them as such, receive their ambassadors, enter into a treaty or alliance with them, for commerce, or defence, or both? If so, on what principal conditions? The French government had anticipated that part of Mr Deanes mission relating to supplies, before his arrival in France. This is evident from a letter writ- ten by the French minister to the kind, as early as 1~/Iay, 1776, which the author of the work now under notice has quoted at large. It shows the extreme caution and secrecy used by the French court, in furnishing the Americans with supplies, at that early period, and is here subjoined. Sir, I have the honor of laying at the feet of your Majesty th~ writing, authorizing me to furnish a million of livres for the ser- vice of the English colonies. I add, also, the plan of an answer I propose to make to the Sieur Beaumarchais. I solicit your ap- probation to the two propositions. The answer to Mr de Beau- marchais will not be written in my hand, nor even that of either Lhe clerks or secretaries of my office. I shall employ for that purpose my son, whose handwriting cannot be known. He is only fifteen years old, but I can answer in the most positive manner for his discretion. As it is important that this operation should not be suspected. or at least imputed to the government. I entreat 96 Diplomacy 01 the United States. [Jan. your Majesty to allow me to direct the return of the Sieur Mon- taudoin to Paris. The apparent pretext for that proceeding will be, to obtain from him an account of his correspondence with the Americans, though, in reality, it will be for the purpose of em- ploying him to transmit to them such funds as your Majesty chooses to appropriate to their benefit, directing him, at the same time, to take all necessary precaution, as if, indeed, the Sieur Montaudoin made the advance on their own account. On this head, I take the liberty of requesting the orders of Majesty. Having obtained them, I shall write to the Marquis de Grimaldi, inform him in detail of our proceedings, and request his co-opera- tion, to the same extent. pp. 19, 20. This is one of those curious state papers, which the French revolution has brought to light; and to enable the reader to un- derstand, why the answer to Beaumarchais was of so secret a nature, as to be entrusted in the handwriting of no one, but that of the son of the minister, it is necessary to state, that, previous- ly to the date of this letter, Beaumarchais had heen secretly sent to London, to inform Arthur Lee, that the French court had determined to assist the Americans, by sending them, as a pre- sent, the amount of two hundred thousand louisdors, in arms, ammunitions, and money; and to request Mr Lee to communi- cate this information to Congress, and say that the same would be transmitted through the French West India Islands, in the fictitious name of Hortales & Co. The answer here alluded to referred, no doubt, to this secret mission. Beaumarchais soon after returned to Paris, and this million of livres was placed in his hands, for the benefit of the Americans. Soon after Mr Deanes arrival, he had several interviews with the French minister, or his secretary. The minister assured Mr Deane of his protection; and informed him that their ports should be open to the Americans, and that every facility would be given to the shipment of warlike stores. With respect to American independence, he told Mr Deane, it would be impro~ per for him to say anything on that subject, until it had actually taken place. Soon after his first conference, Beaumarchais was introduced to Mr Deane, recommended by Vergennes, and of- fered to procure for him whatever he wanted. Some doubts being suggested to Mr Deane, whether Beaumarchais, who was not a merchant or a man of business, would be able to fulfil his engagements, he had a second conference with Vergennes, who asstired him, that he might rely on whatever Beaumarchais [827.] Diplomacy of the United States. 97 should engage, in the commercial way of supplies. In conse- quence of this, an arrangement was made, by Mr Deane, with this secret agent of the French government, and military sup- plies and clothing were furnished, to the amount of about two hundred thousand iovisdors, and were transmitted to America, in the name of a fictitious mercantile house, by the name of Ho1tales and Co. a name, which often appears, in the journals of the old Con rcss. Most of tile cannon and arms were, in fact, taken from the king~s arsenals. This secret and mysterious mode of sapply, as the author justly observes, gave rise to the claim of Beau- marchais, and rendered it very intricate. Immediately after the declaration of independence, Con- gress prepared a plan of a commercial treaty, to he proposed to France and Spain; and in September, 1776, Dr Franklin, Mr Deane, and Mr Jefferson were appointed commissioners to France. Mr Jefferson having declined, Arthur Lee was chosen in his room. The manner in which the French court and na- tion received the American envoys, is thus described. Mr Lee arid Mr Deane were in Europe at the time of their appointment. In December 76, Dr Franklin, the third commis- sioner, arrived in France. He was received with uncommon at- tention; known already as a philosopher, the cause he repre- sented was undoubtedly popular in that country. Indeed, the sub- ject of liberty itself was, already, popular. It might have been only a fashion, as so many other things have been in France; it might have arisen from the metaphysical, or rather philosophical discussions, in which the French were then so much engaged, without at all apprehending the practical effects of them. Or, perhaps, we may, with most truth, call the cause of the colonies popular, because it was one that was likely to do vast mischief to England. The novelty of the undertaking itself, produced an enthusiasm in France; a war ~vas commenced on a new conti- nent; the scene of action arid of interest was transferred from the old world. This had, already, happened in the former French wars, when Quebec and their other possessions fell. But, then, the European had only left his customary battle grounds to meet on a new continent with the same armies, the same animosity, and the same ambition. Europe was a party to those wars. To this she was a spectator. America was viewed with that deep interest and sympathy with which the weak are regarded in all contests; and those, who were not inspired with the holy spirit of emancu. VOL. XXLv.No. 54. 1~3 98 Diplomacy of the United States. [Jan. pation, doubtless wished well to a cause, that was fought at such fearful odds. But the government manifested an evident reluctance to form an open alliance at this time. It naturally and prudently sought for delay. The commissioners were not publicly received; for the fate and condition of the Americans were in an unconfirmed state; and it might well be doubted, whether they could long re- sist the mother country, of whose power France, herself, had very recently had melancholy experience. But assistance continued to be secretly furnished; privateers were allowed to equip and bring their prizes into French ports, commissions were issued by the American envoys; and the cause of the Revolution still con- tinued exceedingly popular with the people. pp. 22, 23. The negotiations of the United States with France and Spain, during the revolutionary struggle, and xvith Great Britain, in connexion with those powers, on the terms of peace and inde- pendence, have very properly claimed the greatest share of the authors attention; and this part of the work will be read with peculiar interest. In maintaining the cause of independence, American statesmen, during this period, had to encounter diffi- culties abroad, as well as at home; and no one can contemplate the firmness, xvith which these difficulties were met and overcome by them, or their perseverance, in every adverse fortune, without entertaining a greater veneration for their character. Soon after the arrival of the American envoys at Paris, a paper, signed by the king, was read to them by the secretary of Vergennes. In this paper, his Most Christian Majesty declared, among other things, that, being determined to take no advantage of the situation, in which the United States were then placed; he thought that it was not then a proper time to form a lasting union, which, however, he very much wished; that they should be at liherty to make their purchases, in private, securing to him an observance of treaties, which he was determined not to be the first to break; and that to prove his good wishes, he had ordered two millions of livres to be paid them quarterly, which should be augmented, as the state of his finances would permit. The most profound secrecy, with respect to this matter, was enjoined on the commissioners. France evidently waited for events which should decide, be- yond all doubt, not only the disposition, but the ability of the Americans to support their independence; and to be perfectly satisfied, that her aid, when openly afforded, would prevent th~ 1~7.] Diplomacy of the United States. 99 possibility of their reconciliation with Great Britain. This policy Was pursued by the French court, notwithstanding the advan- tageous offers made by the American Congress, until the capture of General Burgoyne and his army, in October, 1777. The disasters of the campaign of 1776 induced Congress to turn their attention more seriously to the subject of obtaining foreign aid. In Dcceinber of this year, they determined to send com- missioners to the courts of Vienna, Spain, and Prussia, and to the Duke of Tuscany. These conunissioners were particularly instructed to assure the courts, to which they were sent, that, notwithstanding the insidious suggestions of the British court, the people of the United States were not disposed to submit to the sovereignty of the British crown ; and of their determination, at all events, to maintain their independence. To induce France in particular to take an open part in the war, Congress proposed, that all the trade between the United States and the West In- dies should be confined to French and American vessels, and to divide the cod fishery with France, in case Great Britain, by their joint efforts, should be excluded from any share in it. If these offers should be insufficient to produce a declaration of ~var, on the part of France, the commissioners were directed to yield to the king of France all the British West India islands, that might be reduced by his arms; and to stipulate, that the United States would furnish two millions of dollars in provisions, an(l six frigates, in the expeditions for their reduction. To Spain they offered their assistance, in obtaining possession of the town and harbor of Pensacola, on condition that the citizens of the LTnited States should base the free navigation of the Missis- sippi, and the use of the harbor of Pensacola. These new offers, however, produced no change in the policy of the two courts. The news of the surrender of Burgoyne and his army, which reached Europe about the first of Decem- ber, produced a new state of things, both in Great Britain and France. The British Parliament was then in session; but the minister was not prepared to meet so unexpected and important an event, and immediately proposed an adjournment to the twentieth of Jarmary; which took place on the eleventh of December. In the debates on this motion, in which the ministry were attacked with great severity, Lord North declared, that one object of the adjournment was, to prepare a plan of recon- ciliation with the Colonies; and he gave notice, that after the recess, he should submit to the consideration of the House cer 100 Diplomacy of the United States. [Jan tam concessions, which might serve as the basis of a treaty, and he trusted, that their endeavors would prove effectual in bringing about a permanent peace, and a lasting union between the two countries. The proceedings of parliament were soon known in France, and on the sixteenth the French king declared to the American envoys his determination to accede to their proposi- tions. Before the completion of a treaty, Spain was to be con- sulted by the French court. On this subject, the king himself addies~ed a letter to his Catholic majesty, bea.ing date the eighth of January, 1778. This letter the author has very pro- l)erly inserted. It distiuctly discloses the policy of the two courts, as well as the real motives, which ultimately induced the king of France openly to join the Americans. pp. 297, 298~ England, our common and inveterate enemy, has been en- gaged for three years in a war with her colonies. We have agreed not to take a part in it, and, considering both l)arties as English, we have made the commerce of our state free to whoever should find his advantage in it. La this way America has provid- ed herself with those arms and munitions, of which she was in want. I do not speak of the aid we have given that country in money and other articles, the whole having been done in the or- dinary course of commerce. England has shown some vexation at this circumstance, and ~ve are not ignorant that she will sooner or later revenge herseW This was the situation of the business the last November. The destruction of Burgoyne and the em- barrassments of howe have changed the face of things. America is triumphant; England is cast down. But her vast marine is still entire, and having abandoned the idea of conquering the col- onies, she has resolved to form an alliance with them. All par- ties in England are agreed in this particular. Lord North has himself announced a plan of pacification. It does not much sig- nify to us, whether he or any other minister is in place; actuated by different motives, they will still unite against us. It is very important to prevent the reunion of the colonies with the mother country. The author has only given what he considers the substance of the conclusion of this letter. The original is more explicit as to the motives of the king, in accepting the proposals of the Americans, and is as follows. This being understood, and our causes of complaint against England notorious, I have thought, after taking the advice of my council, and particularly of M. dOssuna, and having consulted up- on the propositions, which the insurgents make, that it was just 1827.] 101 Diplomacy of the United States. and necessary to treat with them, to prevent their reunion with the mother country; (pour emp~cher leur reunion a la m& ropole). Spain, however, refused to join France in treating with the Americans. Although desirous of reducing the power of Great Britain, by the separation of her North American colonies, she was unwilling to become a party in a war for this object, without some security for the future safety of her own possessiotis, ad- joining the newly formed American States. France, thereibre, concluded a treaty of commerce, and an eventual treaty of alli- ance, with the United States, without the concurrence of Spain. By a secret tirticle, however, his Catholic Majesty had a right to accede to both treaties whenever he thought proper. The connexion formed hetxx-een France and America being oflicially announced to the British government, war was the immediate consequence. Although Spain refused to accede to the treaties, she offered her mediation between France and Great Britain. This was readily accepted by his Most Christian Majesty, and was listened to, on the part of his Britannic Majesty, and a correspondence on the subject between the British and Spanish courts took place for several months; and was finally ended in June 1779, when Spain joined France in the contest. This was done in consequence of a convention between the two courts in April preceding, which was a secret compact, and, it is believed, has never yet been made public. It was, probably, a renewal of the old family compact, and no doubt contained a stipulation, on the part of France, to assist Spain in securing to her the exclusive navigation of the Mississippi, as well as her fornter possessions, east of that river. Should negotiations for peace be ~he conse- quence of the offered mediation, both France and Spain deter- mined that the United States should he a party. To meet this event, the appointment of an American minister was deemed necessary. The instructions to the minister created much di- vision in Congress. The members were divided on the subjects of the fisheries, the navigation of the Mississippi, and the Northwestern boundaries. They were, at first, not more unam- motis in the selection of a minister. In two successive ballots the votes were equally divided between Mr Adams and Mr Jay. The subject being postponed, Mr Jay was afterward appointed minister to Spain, and Mr Adams to treat of peace. Pending this mediation, Great Britain secretly attempted to effect a separate peace, with the United States, as well as with 102 Diplomacy of the United States. [Jan. France. For this purpose, Mr Hartley wes sent to Paris to sound Dr Franklin, and Mr Forth to confer with Vergennes. The former, after a long coarespondence, made several prelimi- nary prol)ositions to Di Franklin ; one of which xvas, that Ame- rica should be released and unengaged from all treaties ~vith foreign powers; and he told Dr Franklin, that the convention formed between America and France was the great stumbling- block, in the way of reconciliation. Mr Fo~th proposed to France, in case she would abandon America, that she might re- taiu her conquests in the West Indies; and promised not only to relil)quish the right of an English con imiss ry at Dunkirk, hut to allow her great advantages in the East indies. The offers thus sej)arately and secretly made, were rejected by Di Frank- lin and XTergennes. The negotiations of Mr Jay with the court of Madrid, were attended with peculiar difficulties and embar- rassments, and required all the patience and perseverance of that distinguished patriot and statesman. Aware of the wishes of Spain to regain the possessions she had lost in America during the last war, Congress instructed Mr Jay to guaranty the Flori- das to his Catholic Majesty, in case he would accede to the trea- ties; and also to ohtain loans and subsidies. Soon after his arrival at Madrid, Mr Jay was explicitly informed, that the king of Spain would not join in these treaties; and that he was much displeased with his Most Christian Majesty for concluding them without his concurrence. When the American minister pressed the Spanish court on this subject, and particularly with regard to the navigation of the Mississippi, he was told, that his Catholic Majesty had determined to exclude all foreigners from entering the Gulf of Mexico from the North, and that he would enter into no treaty with the United States, until some definitive arrangement should be made relative to the navigation of the Mississippi. The embarrassments of Mr Jay were greatly in- creased, and his situation rendered extremely delicate, by the refusal of the Spanish court to furnish him with any money, even to pay the bills, which Congress had drawn upon him, unless npon the condition of a relinquishment of the claim of the United States to the navigation of the Mississippi. This condi- tion the American minister refused to comply with. In conse- quence of the success of the enemy, at the South in 1780, Con- gress were induced to recede from insisting on the free navigation of the Mississippi, and a free port below latitude 310, in case Spain would secure to the United States the navigation of that 1827.] Diplomacy of the United States. 1O~3 river, above that latitude. A proposition, agreeable to these in stenetions. was submitted to the Spanish court, hut was rejected and the negotiations remained in this state until June 1782, when they were transferred to Paris, and blended with the subjects of a ~ene1nl J)eace, between all the belligerents. In 1780 the war be an to affect most of the European pow- ers. Towards the close of that year, the empress of Russia, anti the emperor of Germany, offered their mediation for a gen- eral peace in Europe. This mediation was accepted at once by England, and eventually by France, Spain, and the United States. A general congress was proposed to settle the terms. Before commencing negotiations, however, France and Spain insisted upon an explicit answer from the court of London to the question, whether an American plenipotentiary would be admit ted at this con~ress. The king of Great Britain, in June 1781, in his answer, declared, that he would not, in any manner what- ever, admit the interference of any foreign power, between him and his rebel subjects; and, therefore, would not agree to the admission of any person, at the proposed congress, on their part ; that he would not consent to any meas mire, which might limit or suspend the right which every sovereign had to employ the means in his power, to put an end to a rebellion in his do- minions; and that the mediation of the imperial courts must be limited to peace between the belligerents in Europe, and not ex- tend to a particular peace with the revolted Americans. This an- swer put an end to all further proceedings under this mediation. While it was pending, the instructions prepared for the Ameri- can minister, under the Spanish mediation, were revised by Con- gress; and at the instance of the French minister, a clause was inserted, declaring, that the American negotiators were ulti- mately to be governed by the advice and opinion of the king of France or his minister. All the states did not assent to this extraordinary and humiliating clause. The states of Massachu- setts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Delaware gave their votes against it, and Pennsylvania was divided. At the same time, Dr Franklin, Mr Jay, Mr Laurens, and Mr Jefferson were joined with Mr Adams, in the commission. The pride of Great Britain would not yet permit her to treat with her rebel subjects, as she still called them, under the medi- ation or interference of any foreign power. The arms of the allies, however, were able to effect in Ame- rica, what neither the imperial courts, nor the house of Bourbon, 104 Diplomacy of the United States. [Jan~ could accomplish in Europe. The capture of Lord Corn- wallis anti his army, in October of the same year, convinced the British nation, that America could not be subdued by force, and led to a change of administration, and pacific overtures, on the part of the court of London. The author has presented a view of the circumstances, which led to these overtures, as well as the negotiations which follow- ed; anti has, also, given the reasons why the American minis- ters concluded a treaty, without even consultino the French 6 court, together with a very able and satisfactory vindication of their conduct, in thus departing from their instructions. We cannot do better, than to give this vindication in the words of the author. This direct deviation from positive instructions, this apparent ingratitude and perfidy to a faithful and valuable ally, is suscepti- ble of a full and ready explanation. Early in 8~, it was foreseen that England was not the only country, that would present obsta- cles to a peace, safe and satisfactory to the United States. Ame- rica, now independent, found herself compelled to resist Spain, claiming territory on the one hand, and France seeking an exclu- sive possession of the fisheries on the other. She had succeeded to the rights, the advantageous position, and a portion of the commerce of the mother country in the new world; and un- doubtedly Fraiice and Spain were well aware, that the United States would become dan erous neighbors on the laud, and troublesome competitors on the ocean. The American colonies had always been so, even while their trade was subject to the control and prohibition of Great Britain. But France and Spain did not anticipate, that America would either claim, or be able to maintain, all the former rights of the colonies. They entered into the negotiation of S2 with the intention and expectation of extorting from England, to the injury of the United States, some portion of her territory, and a part of one of her most valuable privileges. Both those countries had a heavy balance to settle with Great Britain in the new world; and they remembered, with bitterness and mortification, the provisions of the two treaties of Utrecht and Paris.~ On the side of France, America had much to fear. She was disposed to curtail her fishing rights and privileges, to maintain Spain in her pretensions respecting boundaries, and to aid Eng- land in exacting a compensation for the loyalists. A letter writ- ten by M. de Marbois, secretary of the French legation, from Philadelphia, dated March 13th, 82, intercepted and decyphered at the time, if it did not give the first intimation of similar de.~ 1827.] Diplomacy of the United States; 105 signs in the French court, strengthened, at least, the suspicions before entertained. M. de Marbois advised M. de Vergennes to cause to be intimated to the American ministers, his surprise that the Newfoundland fisheries have been included in the ad- ditional instructions. That the United States set forth pretensions therein, without payin9 rei~ard to the kings [French] rights, and without considering the impossibility they are under of making conquests, and of keeping what belongs to Great Britain. It will be better to have it declared at an early period to the Americans, that their pretensions to the fisheries of the great Bank are not founded, and that his Majesty does not mean to support them. These extracts, taken in connex~on with the obvious policy of the French court, could leave few doubts concerning its designs. pp. 182185. The boundaries, the fisheries, and the case of the loyalists, were subjects of the greatest difficulty, in the settlement of the terms of peace between Great Britain and her former colonies. On these important subjects, the American negotiators had not only to meet the British ministers, but to counteract the views and claims of France and Spain. Negotiations with Spain were resumed by Mr Jay in the summer of 1782, at Paris, with Count de Aranda. In their first conference, in the presence of Dr Franklin, the Spanish minister referred to the old topic of western limits, and asked, What are the boundaries of the United States? Mr Jay replied, that the Mississippi, from its source to latitude 31~, was their western boundary, and from latitude ~3L~ east, by the line bet~veen Georgia and the Floridas. Tue Spanish minister protested against the right of the United States to extend to the Mississippi. He declared, that the western country had never belonged or claimed to belong to the ancient colonies; that previous to the war of 1755, it belonged to France, and after its cession to Great Britain, it remained a distinct part of her dominions, until, by the conquest of west Florida and certain posts on the Mississippi and Illinois, it be- came vested in Spain. He then drew a line, as a boundary, on Mitchells map of North America, beginning at a lake near the confines of Georgia, and east of Flint river, to the confluence of the Kanaway with the Ohio, and thence round the western shores of lakes Erie and Huron, then round lake Michigan to Superior. This map he sent to Mr Jay, and it was, by him, soon after shown to Vergennes, in company with Dr Franklin. The latter pointed out to the French minister this line, as claim- VOL. XXIV.NO. ~4. 14 106 Diplomacy of the United States. [Jan~ ed by Spain, declaring it to be an extravagant and improper one, and insisting on the right of the United States to extend to the Mississippi. Vergennes said very little in reply to these remarks ; but Mr Rayneval, his principal secretary, who was present, denied the right of the United States to extend so far west. The Spanish minister afterwards requested the American corn nissioners to designate some line, east of the Mississippi, to which they would assent. This, however, they refused, de- ciarin6, that they could never cede to Spain aiiy part of the country east of that river. Mr Rayneval soon after requested an interview with Mr Jay, relative to limits with Spain. Iu this interview, he declared explicitly, that the United States had no claim to lands west of the Alleghany mountains, as settled by the British proclamation of October, 1763; that Spain had no claims beyond her late conquests,, and could not, in strictness, go beyond the Natchez ; but, as the future might bring forth new circumstances, he proposed an eventual arrangement of limits between the United States and Spain. He suggested, thereibre, that a line should commence at the western angle of the Gulf of Mexico, which formed the section between the Floridas, and run thence to Fort Toulouse, and thence by various rivers to the Cumberland, and down that river to the Ohio. The lands north of the Ohio, Mr Rayneval did not consider as belonging to Spain, or the United States, but that their fate must be regu- lated by the court of London. These ideas of Rayneval were, no doubt, those of the French court, and satisfied the American envoys, that the object of France was, by the eventual arrangement of limits proposed by Rayneval, to leave that vast tract of country north of the Ohio, a subject of negotiation between Great Brilain and France alone. The intercepted letter of Marbois fully expla ned the views of the French court as to the fisheries, and in addition to this, Rayneval hinted to Dr Franklin and Mr Jay, that they should limit their claims to the coast fishery. To Mr Adams, who joined Dr Franklin and Mr Jay at Paris, about the twentieth of October, Vergennes expressed an opinion in favor of making some compensation to the loyalists. Under these circumstances, the American negotiators came to the resolution of proceeding without consulting the court of France. The British minister at first insisted on the Ohio as the western limits, and that the United States should have but a small share in the fisheries. In the progress of the 1827.] JJiplomctcy of the United States. 107 negotiation, however, the subject of compensation to the loyalists created the greatest, and, at one time, an almost insuperable obstacle to a favorable result. As an ultimatum, the American commissioners finally proposed a stipulation, that Congress should recommend to the States a restoration of their property; but they candidly told the British minister, that, on account of the public feelings in America against this class of people, the recommendation xvould not probably be complied with by the States. This proposition was at last accepted, and the treaty signed on the thirtieth of November. Although the French court could not openly complain of the advantages secured to their allies by this treaty, yet the answer of Vergennes to the note of Dr Fraaklin, enclosing a copy of it, evinced great dissatisfaction, and was expressed in severe and bitter language. France and Spain had not at this time settled the terms of peace with Great Btitain. Serious difficulties had arisen to prevent this; and among these, the claim of Spain for the surrender of Gibraltar was not the least. Having failed to ob- tain this fortress by force, Spain was determined to have it by negotiation; and her minister was instructed not to make peace without it. The aid of France was particularly solicited, and the Spanish court offered to France her part of St Domingo for Gibraltar. Mr Rayneval xvas intrusted with this important negotiation at London. A majority of the British cabinet, after much debate, agreed to yield up Gibraltar to Spain, on two conditions; first, The restitution of all the conquests inadeby Spain, namely, Minorca, West Florida, and the Bahama Ish rids; secondly, The cession of Porto Rico, or the restitution of Do- minique, and the cession of Guadaloupe, by France. The French king was willing to restore Dominique, to cede Guada- loupe, and take the Spanish part of St Domingo; but the king of Spain hesitated about restoring West Florida. The king of England, however, at last put an end to this negotiation, by an absolute refusal to give up Gibraltar on any terms. With respect to territory, the ultimatum of the British cabinet was, the cession of both the Floridas, together with Minorca, and to receive back the Bahamas. This was finally accepted by the Spanish minister, though contrary to his instructions. The advantages secured to the United States by the treaty of peace, were probably greater than those obtained by France or Spain. For these they were indebted to the abilities and 108 D~p1omaey of the United States. tJan. firmness of their ministers. It was foreseen by the American negotiators, that great difficulties would arise in the final adjust- ment of so many claims as must occur between Great Britain and the powers confederated against her, and that even among the confederates themselves there might be interfering interests. France, Spain, and Holland had important interests to settle, not only in America, but in Europe, the East and West Indies, and, indeed, in every part of the world; and each would naturally endeavor to obtain the most advantageous terms for itself. Soon after the treaty of peace, new subjects of dispute arose between the United States and Great Britain, and also between them and Spain; the origin and nature of which are accurately stated in the work before us. While negotiations relative to these disputes were pending, a most extraordinary revolution took place in France; a revolution, which produced new and more important causes of complaint on the part of the United States against England and Spain; and involved this country in new and almost inextricable difficulties with France. The length to which this article has been extended, must prevent us from tracing the author through the intricate and protracted negotiations in which this country was involved with foreign nations, in consequence of this unexampled state of things in Europe. We must content ourselves with referring to the work itself. The author has stated them with accuracy and fidelity; and the remarks with which he has accompanied this statement, are made with impartiality and candor. These negotiations embraced important questions of national law, relating to neutral rights, deeply affecting the commercial interests of the United States. During this mighty conflict, which continued without much interruption for a quarter of a century, the United States received great injuries from Great Britain and France. While the former was determined that the Americans should not directly or indirectly afford assistance to her ancient rival, the rulers of France, by whatever name they were called, were resolved, that the United States should join in the war against England. Each accused the American government of partiality to her rival; and it required all the wisdom and prudence of President Washington to prevent the United States from being at an early period involved in the war, which so long desolated Europe. The first minister from the French republic, in 1793, was 1827.1 Diplomacy of the United States. 109 instructed to form a family compact with the Americans, and to induce them to make common cause with France; and in 1807, the imperial Bonaparte, when solicited to relax his celebrated decrees, in favor of the United States, not only refused, but de- clared, that the Americans should be compelled to take the position and character either of allies or enemies. This decla- ration was made, when, in the height of his conquests, Bonaparte determined that the United States should unite in enforcing his continental system. The origin and object of this celebrated system, and its effects on the commerce of the Unitcd States, are explained in this work; and the power and views of Bona- parte, at this period of his career, are well described. The mind is impressed with a singular sensation, in beholding a great conqueror, just reposing from one of his most signal vic- tories, in the capital of the sovereign, whose army he had rather destroyed than defeated, issuing decrees, that embraced, in their desolating effects, almost every sea of the civilized world. The power of Napoleon Bonaparte was scarcely bounded by any river on the continent of Europe. In gaining his great victories, in adding state after state to his dominions, in placin~ brother after brother upon the thrones of the old nations, whose dynasties he had thrown do~vn, he seems to have been fulfilling his proper part,to have been accomplishing the destinies of which, under Heaven, he was the humble instrument. Wherever he marched, he carried a force with him sufficient to effect his purposes. This was the legitimate exercise of the vast power, with which he was intrusted, by Providence, for objects which it is not yet altogether in the reach of man to comprehend. But when he extended his ambition to the ocean; when he undertook to overwhelm whole countries, by maritime decrees, we perceive that he has left the orbit, in which it was his destiny to move; and we feel, that the unity of his theatrical character is destroyed. pp. 120, 121. France was powerful by land, England by sea; and in their unexampled struggle for preeminence, particularly on the ocean, both were guilty of unparalleled volations of maritime rights, and both vindicated their proceedings on the principles of retalia- tion. That the United States, for these violations of their rights, had legitimate causes of war against both, there can be little doubt; and the only question was, whether, in the peculiar state of the world, it was wise, politic, or necessary for them to select either for their enemy. The various measures, which at last induced the United States to make a selection, together with the negotiations, which ended in the treaty of Ghent, are I if) Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. [Jan~ stated by the author with his usual ability and fairness, and this statement concludes the volume. This work evinces throughout much indnstry and research, and will be found a valuable addition to American history. It may be perused with special profit by those, who would be in- structed in that portion of the history of the country, relating to its intercourse and connexions with foreign powers. ART. VII.1. Supplement to the ~1merican Ornithology of ,,/llexander Wilson; containing a Sketch of the duthors L~,Fe, with a Selection from his Letters; some Remarks on his Writings; and a History of those Birds, which were intended to compose Part of his Ninth Volume. illustrated with Plates, engraved from Wilsons Original Drauings. By GEORGE Oim. Philadelphia. 1825. J. Laval and S. F. Bradford. 2. .flmerican Ornithology; or the Natural History of Birds, inhabiting the United States, not given by Wilson; with Figures drawn, engraved, and colored, from Nature. By CHARLES LuclAN BONAPARTE. Vol. 1. Philadelphia. 1825. S. A. Mitchell, Publisher; W. Brown, Printer. WHEN we compare the present state of the world with what is called antiquity, there is nothing in which the superiority of the later ages appears more conspicuous, than in the advance- ment of the natural sciences, or discoveries of the laws, opera- tions, and characteristics of the physical creation Lord Bacon has told us, that the common way of talking about antiquity is erroneous, and that men have begun to reckon at the wrong end~ The old age of the world, he says, is the proper period to be thus denominated, and not the green years of youth and inexperience. We of the present day are in fact the true an- cients, and Zoroaster, Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, and others, whose lot it was to come upon the stage in the opening scene of the drama of human existence, are in reality the younger brethren of the great family of mankind. They had the imagi- nation, the fire, and the inquisitiveness of youth, the power of genius and the resources of intellect, but, without the light of

I if) Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. [Jan~ stated by the author with his usual ability and fairness, and this statement concludes the volume. This work evinces throughout much indnstry and research, and will be found a valuable addition to American history. It may be perused with special profit by those, who would be in- structed in that portion of the history of the country, relating to its intercourse and connexions with foreign powers. ART. VII.1. Supplement to the ~1merican Ornithology of ,,/llexander Wilson; containing a Sketch of the duthors L~,Fe, with a Selection from his Letters; some Remarks on his Writings; and a History of those Birds, which were intended to compose Part of his Ninth Volume. illustrated with Plates, engraved from Wilsons Original Drauings. By GEORGE Oim. Philadelphia. 1825. J. Laval and S. F. Bradford. 2. .flmerican Ornithology; or the Natural History of Birds, inhabiting the United States, not given by Wilson; with Figures drawn, engraved, and colored, from Nature. By CHARLES LuclAN BONAPARTE. Vol. 1. Philadelphia. 1825. S. A. Mitchell, Publisher; W. Brown, Printer. WHEN we compare the present state of the world with what is called antiquity, there is nothing in which the superiority of the later ages appears more conspicuous, than in the advance- ment of the natural sciences, or discoveries of the laws, opera- tions, and characteristics of the physical creation Lord Bacon has told us, that the common way of talking about antiquity is erroneous, and that men have begun to reckon at the wrong end~ The old age of the world, he says, is the proper period to be thus denominated, and not the green years of youth and inexperience. We of the present day are in fact the true an- cients, and Zoroaster, Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, and others, whose lot it was to come upon the stage in the opening scene of the drama of human existence, are in reality the younger brethren of the great family of mankind. They had the imagi- nation, the fire, and the inquisitiveness of youth, the power of genius and the resources of intellect, but, without the light of 1827.] Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. 111 experience, they wandered in dark paths and desert wastes, and gathered but little of the genuine fruit of know1ed~e Sci- ence made but slow progress in their hands; they contrived systems, which served as prison houses to the mind, rather than instruments for unfolding its faculties, and sending it abroad to seek nourishment at the fountains of truth; and, what was the worst of all, they had the art to construct these systems so ingeniously, to rivet their parts together so firmly, and clothe them with such attractions, as to awaken the admiration and revereut~e of after times, and produce an influence, the ill effects of which are felt to the present day. The philosophers of early times amused themselves with speculations, fancies, dreams, which had little to do with the realities of things, or the obvious laws of nature. Witness the cosmogony of the Persians and Egyptians, the physical theories of the Greeks, that beautiful fabric of the material world first conceived by Democritus, matured by Epicurus, and adorned by the hrilliant poetry of Lucretius. Witness the mythology of all the early nations, the agents to which they ascribed natural phenomena, their deities, demigods, and local divinities. Na- ture was not studied, nor its laws understood; knowledge was at a stand, truth hidden, and experience unknown. The master spirits, who governed the mind for so many centuries, were as much in the dark as the most humble and uninformed. That great magician, Aristotle, whose wand was so potent, after having trod in the open plains of history, if we may credit lord Bacon, and viewe(l tile works of nature, yet dug to himself a dunbeon, and filled it with the vainest idols; and Plato, the divine Plato, according to the same high authority, was not only a well bred sophister, a tumid poet, and fanatical divine, but he turned mens thoughts from tile history of nature, and from things themselves, and tan bht tile mind to enter into itself, and there, under the name of contemplation, to tumble over its own blind and confused idols. Thus it was with those, who were called philosophers, and received the homage of the ~vorld for many ages, as the oracles of xvisdom, and the true interpreters of nature. Aristotle wrote a history of animals; Theophrastus, his pupil, a treatise on stones, and another on plants; Pliny the elder compiled a work embracing all the branches of natural knowl- edge common in his time; but hi story acquaints us with little, that can be dignified with the name of science, till within two hundred years. Bacon himself was the first to detect the errors .112 Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. [Jan. of preceding times, to point the way and set the example in pursuing scientific inquiries, on just and permanent principles. From that period the study of the sciences has been, not one of the most agreeable only, hut most useful, which has engaged the efforts of genius and industry. If we take in the whole compass of the sciences, indeed, as embracing the works and laws of nature in their widest extent, it may safely he said, that the modern improvements in society, view them as you may, have been owing more to the investigations of science, than to all other causes. Look at the single discovery of Newton, in demonstrating the great law of the universe ; trace this law from its action on the heavenly orhs, down to the minutest oh- jects of nature around us, ~and behold it regulating every motion, sustaining the organization of matter, halancing the world on its centre, and ruling the affinities hetween the smallest particles in the masses of material things. Examine its operations as ap- plied to chemistry, and witness the extraordinary and heneficial results, which have grown out of this science, since it has heen pursued according to the principles of the new philosophy of Bacon and Newton. The recent triumphs of science are seen everywhere, giving a new aspect to sociat existence, improving the arts and multiplying the enjoyments of life; they axe seen in the increased facilities of navigation and commerce, inanufac- tures, agriculture, and the rumor hranches of industry. And what is more than all, a barrier has been fixed, beyond which the minds of men will not range in search of impossibilities and ahsurdities. Whole lives of labor and ingenious research will not he lost, as formerly, in dreaming about the philosophers stone, the elixir of life, and other vagaries of a bewildered brain. Truths have been discovered, and principles settled, which will serve as future guides, and help forward, to an indefinite limit, a knowledge of the properties, uses, and ends of nature. But when we descend to what have heen called, by way of distinction, the natural sciences, as applicable to time three great kingdoms of nature, the mineral, vegetable, and animal, the utility of such studies may seem less obvious. We apprehend, however~ that, if the subject he viewed in its proper relations, no ohjection can be raised on this ground. There is doubtless nothing in the economy of nature, which may not be known to advantage by the beings, who live here in the midst of its infinite- ly varied operations, and who are furnished with capacities, which enable them to turn all knowledge to some useful ac~ 1827.] Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornitbology. 11~3 count. Who can tell, moreover, how much one l)art depends on another; how much the mineral ma.y affect the vegetable, and the vegetable the animal ? We know that there are close affinities between the whole, that one relies on another for life and support, and that all contribute in general to the comfort of social man. Without aids from the mineral kingdom, we should be destitute of machinery and implements for executing the ne- cessary operations in the arts of life ; from animals and vegeta- bles we are clothed and fed. Now it may not be clear at once, what special and immediate benefit will be conferred on the human race, by the labors of a life spent in gathering up, nam- ing, and describing the shells, which are driven to the beach by the waves of the sea, or in examining and niarkin~ the peculia- rities of different spires of grass and plants, that grow in wilds and solitudes; but let it be remembered, that great and substantial results can be brou 6ht only out of these minute investigations, that a methodical arrangement of all the parts is necessary to constitute a perfect whole ; let this be realized, and these studies of the naturalist will be found to have important bearings. The nomenclature of the sciences threatens, undoubtedly, to throw an embarrassing Ol)stncle in the way of rapid inquiry, and to retard for a time the progress of desirable knowledge. Names are multiplying beyond the compass of memory, and almost be- yond the acquisition of an ordinary life. There is no remedy for this inconvenience, but it will gradually be diminished. When all the marked varieties in the departments of nature shall have been examined, described, and named, the only task then to be accomplished will be to methodize and simplify the facts thus collected, and establish a permanent classification. The system of nature will then be exhibited in its harmony and beauty, and the extent to which its various parts may be converted to the uses of man will be understood; or, at least, all the elemens necessary for pursuing the study with this view will be estab- lished. So broad a range, indeed, we need not take, to discover the utility of the natural sciences. If nothin more were aimed at in pursuing them, than amusement, an agreeable occupation, or an elegant accomplishmeut, they would claim a distinguished rank among liberal studies. A mind trained to the accurate observation of nature will receive a tone, and possess resources fitting it for contentment and happiness, which it cannot derive in so high a degree from any other kinds of study. The VOL. XXLV.NO. 54. 1 5 114 Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. [Jan. book of nature is always open, and the person, who from habit feels a pleasure in reading it, will ever have at hand the best antidotes against those common maladies of the mind, which beset the great mass of mankind for the want of en- gaging topics of thonght, and incitements to application. Again, the natural sciences, as now pursued, contribute to the perfec- tion of the arts, and the taste of the community is thereby re- fined, as its knowledge is enlarged, and means of enjoyment multiplied. To illustrate this fact, by eminent examples, we need only refer to Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology, and Says beautiful work on insects, all published in this country, and all, we will add, deserving a place in every collection of books, public or private, in which it is deemed an object to trea- sure up memorials of the talents, taste, and skill of those, who have made the most successful researches in our natural history, and published them in a style that does credit not more to the authors and artists, than to the nation. But we are wandering wide of our purpose. We did not design, when we began, to read a solemn lecture on the an- cients, nor to compose a dissertation on the dignity of science, nor to talk of the utility and influence of a just knowledge of nature; we set out with no other intention, than to hazard a few remarks on the two works, whose titles are printed at the head of this article. We say hazard, for really we have not the affectation to pretend to an acquaintance with the subjects on which these books treat, and therefore we shall not say a word about genus or species, nor discuss any such question as whether the Forktailed Flycatcher is properly called .Musct- capa Tyrannus, according to Linn~, or Tyrannus Savana, as set forth by Vieillot, and adopted by Mr Bonaparte. Matters of this dignity beloub only to the initiated, and should not be lightly handled. Besides, were we as deep in the mysteries of science, as Linn~ himself, or Buffon, our Journal would be no place in which to display this knowled~e, either to instruct the unlearned, or to astonish the skilful by the compass of our at- tainments. After this frank acknowledgement, we hope no of- fence will be taken, that we should presume to review books, which we do not understand. A sad, dull, heartless employ- ment indeed, would reviewers have of it, if they were to be shut. up within these limits, and if all books must be understood before the critic can be allowed to sharpen his quill. in the first place, it may be charitably believed, that very few authors understand 1827.] Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. 115 what they write. Why deny to reviewers the same privilege? In the next place, the craft would soon come to an end, if such rigid rules were adopted ; for how many can you find, who will confess, that they frilly understand anothers book, however sue cessfid the author himself may have been in fathoming his own thoughts? It is a well established axiom, in short, drawn from the practice of ages, that writing and understanding are quite different things. Let it not be charged abajust us, therefore, that we abet any innovation in uttering a few remarks, touching two books on ornitholo~y, althouah we are fain to own, that we. know not one bird from another, except as we see them flying in the air, or hear their warblings in their wonted haunts. After these confessions, xve presume our readers will he quite as well pleased to listen to the authors themselves, in their own language, as to anything we can say; and in this particular we shall gratify them pretty freely in what remains of this article. In addition to the high scientific value of these works, they pre- sent specimens of the most beautiful typography, accurate deli- neations from nature, and exquisite coloring, which have appear- ed in this country. The first, called a Supplement to Wilsons Ornithology, published by Mr Ord, contains several plates, which exhibit birds engraved from Wilsons original drawings, and intended by that distinguished ornithologist for a part of the ninth volume of his great work, had he lived to complete his task. Mr Ord deserves the wannest thanks of the public, for bringing forward these rem~ins of Wilson, in a style so elegant, and with accompaniments, which give them additional value and interest. A large portion of the volume is occupied with a tne- moir of the author, interspersed with many original letters, and closed with a series of critical remarks by the editor on the va- rious literary productions of the ornithologist. Although these materials are thrown together without studied method, or rigid selection, yet they are fraught with entertainment, and show the prominent points of his character in strong relief. So much has already been said of Wilson, so justly are his labors appreciated, and so wide is his fame, that we shall forbear to enlar~e on these topics. He was a Scotebman by birth; the firs years ol his residence in this country were devoted to schoolkeeping in Pennsylvania; an early acquaintance with the venerable Bartram kindled within him a love of science, and after he commenced his ornithological inquiries, he pursued them for the remaining short period of his life with an enthusiasm, 116 Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. [Jau~ perseverance, and self devotion, which have rarely been equal- led. lie died in Philadelphia, August 23d, 1818, at the age of fortyseven. His Thnerican Ornithology, executed under every possible disadvantage, and with encouragement so slender, as hardly to keep him from the heavy pressure of want, is a monu- ment to his name, that xviii never decay. The old world and the new will regard it with equal admiration. We may add, without hcsitation, says Mr Bonaparte, that such a work as he has published, in a new country, is still a desideratum in Europe. To accomplish such a work, with all the fhcilities, which the arts and knowledge of Europe afford, would confer no common distinction ; but when it is considered, that Wilson taught himself, almost unassisted, the arts of drawing and en- graving ; that he made his way in the science with very little aid from hooks or teachers; that he entered a path in which he could find no companions, none to stimulate his ardor by a simi- larity of pursuits or communion of feeling, none to remove his doubts, guide his inquiries, or to be deeply interested in his suc- cess; when these thiu~s are considered, the labors of Wilson must claim a praise, which is due to a fexv only of the solitary efforts of talent and enterprise. In the strictest sense of the terms, Wilson xvas a man of ge- nius ; his perceptions were quick, his impressions vivid ; a bright glow of feeling breathes throtigh his compositions. In tile pro- fessed walks of poetry his attempts were not often fortunate, hut his prose writings partake of the genuine poetic spirit; a lively fancy, exuberance of thought, and minute observation of the natural world, are strongly indicated in whatever has flowed from his pen. lie travelled for the double purpose of procuring subscriptions to his book, and searching the forests for birds; and some of his ~raphic descriptions of the scenery of nature, and the hThits of the winged tribes, are inimitable. Sometimes he walked ; at others descended rivers in a canoe ; again he was on horseback, in a stahecoach, or a farmers waggon, as the great ends of his wanderings could be most easily attained. The cold repulses of the many, from whom he solicited subscrip- tions, he bore with equanimity, undaunted by disappointment, unsubdued by toil and privation ; the acquisition of a new bird, or of new facts illustrating the habitudes of those already known, was a fountain of joy in his ?~looniest moments; it poure(l the xvaters of oblivion over the past, and gave him new energy in his onward course. The following beautiful extract is from a letter to Mr Bartramn. 1827.] Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. 117 That lovely season is now approaching, when the garden, woods, and fields, ~vill again display their foliage and flowers. Every day we may expect stran~ers. flocking from the south, to fill our woods with harmony. The pencil of Nature is now at work, arid outlines, tints, and gradations of lihts and shades, that baffle all description, will soon be spread before us by that great master, our most benevolent friend and father. Let us cheerfully participate in the feast he is preparing for all our senses. Lct us survey those millions of green strangers, just peeping in to day, as so in any happy messengers come to proclain-i the power and munificence of the Creator. I confess, that I was always an enthusiast in my admiration of the rural scenery of Nuture; but, since your example and encouragement have set me to attempt to imitate her productions, I see new beauties in every bird, plant, or flower, I contemplate; and find my ideas of the incomprehensible first cause still more exalted, the more mi- nutely I examine his works. I sometimes smile to think that ~vhile others are immersed in deep schemes of speculation and n~grandizementin building towns, and purchasing plantations, I am entranced in contempla- tion over the plumage of a lark, or gazing like a despairing lover, on tl~e lineaments of an owl. While others are hoarding up their bags of money, without the power of enjoying it, I am collecting, without injuring my conscience, or wounding my peace of mind, those beautiful specimens of Natures works, that are forever pleasing. I have had live crows, hawks, and owisopossurns, squirrels, snakes, lizards, & c. so that my room has sometimes re- minded me of Noahs Ark; but Noah had a wife in one corner of it, and in this particular our parallel does not altogether tally. I receive every subject of natural history that is brought me; and though they do not march into my ark from all quarters, ~s they did into that of our great ancestor, yet I find means, by the dis- tribution of a few five penny bits, to make them find the way fast enough. A boy not long ago, brought me a large basket full of crows. I expect his next load will be bullfrogs, if I dont soon issue orders to the contrary. One of my boys caught a mouse in school, a few days ago, and directly marched up to me with his prisoner. I set about drawing it that evening, and all the while the pantings of its little heart showed it to be in the most extreme agonies of fear. I had intended to kill it, in order to fix it in the claws of a stuffed owl, but happening to spill a few drops of water near where it was tied, it lapped it up with such eagerness, and looked in my face with such an eye of supplicating terror, as perfectly overcame me. I immediately untied it, and restored it to life and liberty. The agonics of a prisoner at the stake, while the fire 118 Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. [Jan. and instruments of torment are preparing, could not be more Se- vere than the sufferings of that poor mouse; and insignificant as the object was, I felt at that moment the sweet sensations that mercy leaves on the mind when she triumphs over cruelty. pp. 42, 43. The passage, which we are now about to quote, is part of a letter to Alexander Lawson, dated Lexington, Kentucky, April 4th, 1810. Having now reached the second stage of my bird catching ex- pedition, I willingly sit down to give you some account of my adventures and remarks since leaving Pittsburg; by the aid of a good map, and your usual stock of patience, you will be able to listen to my story, and trace all my wanderings. Though gener- ally dissuaded from venturing by myself on so long a voyage down the Ohio, in an open skiW I considered this mode, with all its inconveniences as the most favorable to my researches, and the most suitable to my funds, and I determined accordingly. Two days before my departure the Alleghany river was one wide torrent of broken ice, and I calculated on experiencing consider- able difficulties on this score. My stock of provisions consisted of some biscuit and cheese, and a bottle of cordial, presented me by a gentleman of Pittsburg; my gun, trunk, and great coat, oc- cupied one end of the boat; I had a small tin occasionally to hale her, and to take my beverage from the Ohio with; and bid- ding adieu to the smoky confines of Pitt, I launched into the stream, soon winding away among the hills that everywhere enclose this noble river. The weather was warm and serene, and the river like a mirror, except where floating masses of ice spotted its surface, and which required some care to steer clear of; but these to my surprise, in less than a days sailing, totally disappeared. Far from being concerned at my new situation, I felt my heart expand with joy at the novelties which surrounded me; I listened with pleasure to the whistling of the red bird on the bank as I passed, and contdmplated the forest scenery as it receded, with increasin~ delight. The smoke of the numerous sugar camps rising lazily among the mountains, gave great effect to the varying landscape; and the grotesque log cabins, that here and there opened from time woods, were diminished into mere dog- houses by-the sublimity of the impending mountains. If you suppose to yourself two parallel ranges of forest covered hills, whose irregular summits are seldom more than three or four miles apart, winding through an immense extent of country, and en- closing a river half a mile wide, which altei~nately washes the steep declivity on one side, ~nd leaves a rich flat forest clad bot 1827.] Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. 1 El torn on the other, of a mile or so in hreadth, you xviii have a pretty correct idea of the appearance of the Ohio. The banks of these rich flats are from twenty to sixty and eighty feet high, and even these last were within a few feet of being overflowed in Decem- ber, 1808. I roxved twenty odd miles the first spell, and found I should be able to stand it perfectly xvell. About an hour after night I put up at a miserable cabin, fiftytwo miles from Pittsburg, where I slept on what I supposed to be corn stalks, or something worse; so preferring the smooth bosom of the Ohio to this brush heap, I got up long before day, and, bein,r under no apprehension of los- ing my way, I again pushed out into the stream. rrhe landscape on each side lay in one mass of shade, but the grandeur of the projecting headlands and vanishing points, or lines, were charm- ingly reflected in the smooth glassy surface below. I could only discover when I was passing a clearing by the croxvin~ of cocks; and now and then in more solitary places the bi~ horned owl made a most hideous hallowing that echoed among the mona tains. In this lonesome manner, with full leisure for observation and reflection, exposed to hardships all day, arid bard births all night, to storms of rain, hail, and snow, for it froze severely almost every night. I persevered, from the twentyfourth of February to Sunday evening, March 17th, when I moored my skiff safely in Bear Grass Creek, at the rapids of the Ohio, after a voyage of seven hundred and twenty miles. pp. 217220. For the gratification of such of our readers, as have not seen Wilsons great work, we shall select one or txvo specimens of his descriptions, which are happy arid well sustained. The plumage of the Mocking Bird, though none of the home- liest, has nothing gaudy or brilliant in it; and, had he nothing else to recommend him, would scarcely entitle him to notice; but his figure is well proportioned, and even handso~ .c. The ease, elegance, and rapidity of his movements, the animation of his eve, and the intelligence he displays in listening, and laying up lessons from almost every species of the feathered creation within his hearing, are really surprising, and mark the peculiarity of his ge- nius. To these qualities we may add that of a voice full, strong, and musical, and capable of almost every modulation, from the clear mellow tones of the wood thrush, to the savage screams of the bald eagle. in measure and accent he faithfully follows his originals. In force of sweetness and expression he great im- proves upon them. In his native groves, mounted upon the top of a tall bush or half grown tree, in the dawn of dewy morning, xvhile the woods are already vocal xvith a multitude of warbiers~ 120 Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. [Jan. his admirable song rises preeminent over every competitor. The ear can listen to his music alone, to which that of all the others seems a mere accompaniment. Neither is this strain altogether imitative. His own native notes, which are easily distinguishable by such as are acquainted with those of our various song birds, are bold and full, and varied seemingly beyond all limits. They consist of short expressions of two, three, or at the most five or six sylla- bles; generally interspersed with imitations, and all of them utter- ed with great emphasis and upiditv; and continued with undimin- ished ardor, for half an hour, or an hour, at a time. His expand- ed wings and tail, glistening with white, and the buoyant gaiety of his action, arresting the eye, as his song most irresistibly does the ear. lie sweeps round with enthusiastic ecstasy. He mounts and descends as his song swells or dies away; and as my friend Mr Bartram has beautifully expressed it, He bounds aloft with the celerity of an arrow, as if to recover or recal, his very soul, which expired in the last elevated strain. While thus exerting himselg a bystander, destitute of sight, would suppose that the whole feathered tribes had assembled together, on a trial of skill, each striving to produce his utmost effect, so perfect are his imita- tioiis. He many times deceives the sportsman, and sends him in search of birds that perhaps are not within miles of him; but whose notes he exactly imitates. Even birds themselves are fre- quently imposed on by this admirable mimic, and are decoyed by the fancied calls of their mates; or dive with precipitation into the depths of thickets, at the scream of what they suppose to be the Sparrowhawk. pp. 205. The description of the Bald Eagle is given with remarkable spirit, and with imagery so minute and glowing, as to attest its truth. This distinguished bird, as he is the most beautiful of his tribe in this part of the world, and the adopted emblem of our country, is entitled to particular notice. He has been long known to natu- ralists, being common to both continents, and occasionally met with from a very high northern latitude, to the borders of the tor- rid zone, but chiefly in the vicinity of the sea, and along the shores and cliffs of our lakes and large rivers. Formed by nature for braving the severest cold; feeding equally upon the produce of the sea3 arid of the land; possessing powers of flight capable of outstripping even the tempests themselves; unawed by any- thing but man; and from the ethereal heights to which he soars, looking abroad, at one glance, on an immeasurable expanse of forests, fields, lakes, and ocean, deep below him; he appears in- different to the little localities of change of seasons; as in a few 1827.] Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithok~g~y. 121 minutes he can pass from summer to winter, from the lower to the higher re~ion~ of the tmos;diere, the abode of eter~ al cold ; and thence dc~s cnd at will to the torrid or the arctic regions of the earth. He is ther& ji e found at all seasons in the countries which he inhabits but i~refers such places as have been mention- ed above, from t~~e rreLt p:~rtVil;tv he has for fish. In procuinT toese iis:Jays. in very siui~ular manner, the genius and en r~vy of his c1i racter. xviich is fierce, contempla- tive, d:iri;ig an I tyi anuical ; a4tributes n 4 excrted but on particu- lar ocasions ; but xvhen put forth, o~ er~x h lining all opposition. Elevated upon a high de d Ii oh of some cui~ant c tree, that com- mands a wile view of toe ii.irhbourin~ shore and ocean, he seems cdlinly to conte noht~ toe notl)iis of the various feathered tribes that pursue their buQy avo~ations below the snow white gulls slowly xviuibo~vin~ th air the busy trin a coursing a long the sands; trains of duet~s stieaiiino over the surface; silent and watchful cranes, intent aiid wa,lin~ clamorous crows, and all the winged intiltitudes that ~ihsist by the bounty of this vast liquid magazine of nature. high over all these hovers one, whose ac- tion instantly arrests his attention. By his wide curvature of wing, and sudden suspension in air, he knows him to be the fish hawk settling over some devote] victim of the deep. His eye kindles at the si~:ht, and balancing liimselg with half opened win~s, on the branch lie watches the result. Down, rapid as an arrow from heaven, descends the distant object of his attention, the roar of its wings reaching the ear as it disappears in the deep, making the surges foam around. At this moment the looks of the Eale are all ardor; and levellin~ his neck for flight, he sees the Fish Hawk emerge, struggling with his prey, and mount- ing into the air with screams of exultation. These are the signal for our hero, who, launching into the air, instantly gives chase, soon gains on the Fish hawk, each exerts his utmost to mount above the other, displaying in these rencontres the most elegant and sublime aerial evolutions. The unincumbered Eagle rapid- ly advances, and is just on the point of reaching his opponent, when with a sudden scream, probably of despair and honest exe- cration, the latter drops his fish ; the Eagle poising himself for a moment, as if to take a more certain aim, descends like a whirl- wind, snatches it in his grasp ere it reaches the water, and bears his ill gotten booty silently away to the woods. pp. 2f37209. Mr Ord devotes several pages to erilKeisms on Wilsons writ- ings, both in prose and poetry, which throughout bear the marks of fairness and discritnination; the parri& ity of friendship seems neither to have biassed the opinions, nor guided the pen of th~ VOL. XXIV.NO. 54. 16 122 Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. [Jan. critic. As a poet, he allows his author very little merit, and justly considers his fame to rest on the extraordinary talents displayed in his Ornithology, an(l some parts of his ep;stolary writings. We have only to add, that we cannot commend Mr Ords jud~ment in printing some of the letters, which he has selected from Wilsons corre~pon Li ice. We ie fet particularly to parts of the letters from B to Waslmiiy ton, Charleston, and Savannah ; and even ~ pm tim~ of the letter from Lexing- ton, printed during his liletime, m~r~t have been omitted with advantage. XViisons qn~cL oos~ wtin must have discovered to him many things in his U V~IIS xxi cli would appear peculiar, odd, or ludicrous, when comnp~r~d web his local associations, anti in a sportive hour there was no nrrn in describing them in his own way, for the amusu nent & friend ; but when such things are p inted in !i grave quarto, they are out of place, and produce a disagreeable, rather than a pleasing effect. Bmoad caricatures of the manners and habits of a people, drawn from the observations of a day, or perhps an hour, however they may have beguiled a fexv of the writers listless moments, or contributed to the gratification of his friends, are not matters for the worlds instruction. In Lexington market Wilson saw, among other strange things, skinned squirrels cut up into quarters, and his letter, announcing this important fact, was published not long afterward. Some patriotic Lexingtonian questioned the statement, and called it a joke. Wilson replied, that it xvas no joke, but a solemn matter of fact, correcting, however, a slight error from his note book, in which he had entered the word halves, instead of quarters ; and so it was maintained, that, in Lexington, skinned squirrels were brought to market in the form of a saddle of venison, not in that of a leg or a shoulder of mutton. This seems to have silenced the Lexingtonian, for we hear no more about him. The whole correspondence is recorded, however, in Mr Ords Supplement. We repeat, in short, that a more rigid selection would have been just to the fame of Wilson, and added to the value of this volume. It has already been mentioned, that Wilson died before his work was completed. It is the professed object of Mr Bona- parte to carry through the unfinished design of his predecessor The first volume is published, and two more are to follow, which, together with the nine volumes of Wilson, he thinks will ~inplete the whole subject of American Ornithology. Of th~ 1327.] Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. 123 scientific merits of Mr Bonapartes labors, we have said enough to sboxv, that it is not for us to judge, but we may safely tes tifv our admiration of the beautiful manner, in which every part of this first volume has been executed. Neither trouble nor expense has been spared, and the author, artists, and publish- er claim unqualified praise, each in his rCsl)eCtiVe department. The drawi~g, engraviiy, and coloring of the birds are in the very fist style, and show a manifest improvement in these arts sin e the tima of Wilson. The author tells us, that the drawings were made by Mr Titian Peale from the recent hird, and not from preservezl specimens. This advantage the artist was en- abled to possess by his xvide travels, and particularly wiLh Major Long, in his Expedition to the Rocky Mountains. From draw- ings thus prepared, the engravings were executed by Mr Law- son, who distinguished himself in engraving some of Wilsons birds, and who, from his lo~g practice and skill, it is said, may be justly styled the first ornithological engraver of our age. The colorin~ was done from nature by Mr Rider. We have been thus particular in mentioning names, because excellence of so high an order, as these specimens of art indicate, deserves to be commemorated. Nor should the part performed by Mr Mitchell, the publisher, be passed over, in these days of wretched printing. A more splendid work, as a whole, we certainly have never seen from the American press. Posterity will regard it among the Aldines of our day. Two or three of Mr Bonapartes descriptions must suffice, as the only tribute, which we are qualified to render to his talents as an ornithologist; though we accord to him cheerfully the fame he holds among those, who are in the highest ranks of science, and we will not be backward in expressing our due share of gratitude to a foreigner, of his qualifications, who has made his home among us, and takes so deep and practical an interest in the scientific progress of our country. To this senti- ment we beliere tbere is no American, whose heart will not respond, and who will not look with eager hope to the successful prosecution of Mr Bonapartes ornithological labors, or any other projects of science, in which his taste or leisure may incline him to engage. The following is an extract from Mr Bonapartes curious ac- count of the Burrowing Owl. Venerable ruins, crumbling under the influence of time and vicissitudes of season, are habitually associated with our recol 124 Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. [Jan. lections of the Owl; or he is considered as the tenant of sombre forests, whose nocturnal gloom is rendcied deeper and more awful by the harsh dissonance of his voice. In poetry he has long been regarded as the appropriate concomitant of darkness and horror; and, when heard screaming from the topmost frag- ments of some mouldering wall, whose ruggedness is but slightly softened by the mellowing moonlight, imagination loves to view him as a malignant spirit, hooting triumphantly over the sur- rounding desolation! But we are now to make the reader ac- quainted with an Owl to which none of these associations can belong; a bird, that, so far from seeking refuge in the ruined habitations of man, fixes its residence within the earth ; and, instead of concealing itself in solitary recesses of the forest, de- lights to dwell on open plains, in company with animals remark- able for their social disposition, neatness, and order. Instead of sailing heavily forth in the obscurity of the evening or morning twilight, and then retreating to mope away the intervening hours, our Owl enjoys the broadest glare of the noon day sun, and fly- ing rapidly along, searches for food or pleasure during the cheer- ful light of day. The votaries of natural science must always feel indebted to the learned and indefatigable Say, for the rich collection of facts he has made whenever opportunities have been presented, but more especially in the instance of this very singular bird, whose places of resort in this country, are too far distant to allow many the pleasure of examining for themselves. We feel doubly dis- posed to rejoice, that the materials for the history of our birds, are drawn from his ample store, both on account of their intrinsic excellence, and because it affords us an opportunity of evincing our admiration of the zeal, talents, and interrity. which have raised this man to the most honorable and enviable eminence as a naturalist. In the trans-Mississippian territories of the United States, the Burrowing Owl resides exclusively in the villages of the Marmot, or Prairie Dog, whose excavations are so commodious, as to render it unnecessary that our bird should dig for himself, as he is said to do in other parts of the world, where no burrowing animals exist. The villages are very numerous, and variable in their extent, sometimes covering only a few acres, and at others spread- ing over the surface of the country for miles together. They are composed of slightly elevated mounds, having the fbrm of a truncated cone, about two feet in width at base, and seldom rising as high as eighteen inches above the surface of the soil. The entrance is placed either at the top or on the side, and the whole mound is beaten down externally, espe 1827.] Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. 125 cially at the summit, resembling a much used foot path. From the entrance, the passage into the mound descends vertically for one or two feet, and is thence continued obliquely downwards, until it terminates in an apartment, within which the industrious Marmot constructs, on the approach of the cold season, the com- fortable cell for his winters sleep. This cell, which is composed of fine dry grass, is globular in form, with an opening at top capable of admitting the finger; and the whole is so firmly com- pacted, that it might, without injury, be rolled over the floor. It is delightful during fine weather, to see these lively little creatures sporting about the entrance of their burrows, which are always kept in the neatest repair, and are often inhabited by several individua~ls. When alarmed, th~y immediately take refuge in their subterranean chambers, or if the dreaded danger be not inimediately impending, they stand near the brink of the entrance, bravely barking and flourishing their tails, or else sit erect to reconnoitre the movements of the enemy. The mounds thrown up by the Marmot in the neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains, have an appearance of greater antiquity than those observed on the far distant plains. They sometimes extend to several yards in diameter, although their elevation is trifling, and, except immediately surrounding the entrance, are clothed with a scanty herbage, which always distinguishes the area of these villages. Sometimes several villages have been ob- served almost entirely destitute of vegetation; and recollecting that the Marmot feeds exclusively on grasses and herbaceous plants, it seems singular, that this animal should always choose the most barren spot for the place of his abode. However this may be accounted for, it at least affords an opportunity of behold- ing the approach of his enemies, and allows him to seek, within the bosom of the earth, that security which he has neither strength nor arms to command. In all these Prarie Dog villages the Burrowing Owl is seen moving briskly about, or else in small flocks scattered among the mounds, and at a distance it may be mistaken for the Marmot itself; when sitting erect. They manifest but little timidity, and allow themselves to be approached sufficiently close for shooting . but if alarmed, some or all of them soar away, and settle down again at a short distance; if further disturbed, their flight is con- tintred until they are no longer in view, or they descend into their dwellings, whence they are difficult to dislodge. The burrows into which these Owls have been seen to de- scend, on the plains of the river Platte, where they are the most numerous, were evidently excavated by the Marmot, when~e it has been inferred by Say, that they were either common, though. 126 Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. [Jan. unfriendly residents of the same habitation, or that our Owl was the sole occupant of a burrow acquired by the right of conquest. The evidence of this was clearly presented, by the ruinous con- dition of the burrows tenanted by the Owl, which were frequently caved in, and their sides channelled by the rains, while the neat and well preserved mansion of the Marmot, showed the active care of a sk:lful and industrious owner. We have no evidence that the Owl and Marmot habitually resort to one burrow; yet we are assured by Pike, and others, that a common danger often drives them into the same excavation, where lizards and rattle- snakes also enter for concealment and safety. pp. 6871. The author dwells at much length on the description of the Wild Turkey, which is accomnanied with a beautiftd drawing. lie asserts manfully the original claim of America to this bird. The first certain account of it, he says, was written in J 525, by Oviedo, in his History of the West Indies. It was sent from Mexico to Spain, in the early part of the sixteenth century, and thence to England about the year 1524. By degrees it spread over Europe, and within a century was introduced into Asia, Africa, and the European colonies. The origin of the English name, Turkey, as applied to this bird, is a little singular. It was first brought to England at a time, when it was customary to denote articles of luxury from foreign countries by this appel- lation, and as this bird was a delicacy of novel and rare occur- rence, it took the same name. This error was perpetuated, from the circumstance of its being supposed to have come, through Spain, from Asia or Africa. Some naturalists repre- sented it as having been known to the ancients, but they con- founded it with the Guinea Fowl. The Turkey is in fact indigenous in America, and was a stranger to the old world, till nfter the discoveries of Columbus. Mr Bonaparte has given a list of twentyseven names, by which it has been called among different tribes of Indians. From the authors full description of this bird, we shall select two or thre9 paragraphs, in which are exhibited some of its habits. When about to cross a river, they select the highest emi- nences, that their flight may be the more certain; and here they sometimes remain for a day or more, as if for the purpose of con- sultation, or to be duly prepared for so hazardous a voyage. Duriwr this time the males gobble obstreperously, and strut with extraordinary importance, as if they would animate their com- panions, and inspire them with the utmost degree of hardihood; 1827.] Wilsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. 12~7 the females and young also assume much of the pompous air of the males, the former spreading their tails, and moving silently around. At length the assembled multitude mount to the tops of the highest trees, whence, at a signal note from a leader, the whole together wing their way towards the opposite shore. All the old and fat ones cross without difficulty, even when the river exceeds a mile in width; but the young, meagre, and weak, fre- quently fall short of the desired landing, and are forced to swim for their lives. This they do dexterously enough, spreading their tails for a support, closing their wings to the body, stretching their neck forwards, and striking out quickly and forcibly with their legs, If in thus endeavoring to gain the land, they approach an elevated or inaccessible bank, their exertions are remitted, they resign themselves to the stream for a short time, in order to gain strength, and then with one violent effort, escape from the water. But in this attempt, all are not successful; some of the weaker, as they cannot rise sufficiently high in air to clear the bank, fall again and again into the water, and thus miserably perish. Immediately after these birds have succeeded in crossing a river, they for some time ramble about without any apparent unanimity of purpose, and a great many are destroyed by the hunters, although they are then least valuable. These birds are guardians of each other, and the first who sees a Hawk or Eagle gives a note of alarm, on which all within hearing lie close to the ground. As they usually roost in flocks, perched on the naked branches of trees, they are easily discover- ed by the large Owls, and when attacked by these prowling birds, often escape by a somewhat remarkable manomvre. The Owl sails around the spot to select his prey; but notwithstanding the almost inaudible action of his pinions, the quick ear of one of the slumberers perceives the danger, which is immediately an- nounced to the whole party by a chuck; thus alarmed, they rise on their legs, and watch the motions of the Owl, who, darting like an arrow, would inevitably secure the individual at which he aimed, did not the latter suddenly drop his head, squat, and spread his tail over his back; the Owl then glances over without inflicting any injury, at the very instant that the Turkey suffers himself to fall head long towards the earth, where he is secure from his dreaded enemy. Wild Turkeys are very tenacious of their feeding grounds, as well as of the trees on which they have once roosted. Flocks have been known to resort to one spot for a succession of years, and to return after a distant emigration in search of food. Their roosting place is mostly on a point of land jutting into a river, where there are large trees. When they have collected at tht~ 128 Wslsons and Bonapartes Ornithology. [Jan. signal of a repeated gobbling, they silently proceed towards their nocturnal abodes, and perch near each other; from the numbers sometimes congregated in one place, it would seem to be the common rendezvous of the whole neighborhood. But no position, however secluded or difficult of access, can secure them from the attacks of the artful and vi~ilant hunter, who, when they are all quietly perched for the night, takes a stand previously chosen by daylight; and, when the rising moon enables him to take sure aim, shoots them down at leisure, and, by carefully singling out those on the lower branches first, he may secure nearly the whole flock, neither the presence of the hunter, nor the report of his gun intimidating the Turkeys, although the appearance of a single Owl would be sufficient to alarm the whole troop; the dropping of their companions from their sides excites nothing but a buzzing noise, which seems more expressive of surprise than fright. This fancied security, or heedlessness of danger, while at roost, is characteristic of all the gallinaceous birds of North America. pp. 8291. In connexion with these characteristics of the Turkey, and the description of the Bald Eagle above quoted, it may be no improper place here to introduce Dr Franklins humorous re- marks, as contained in one of his letters, concerning the bird, which was chosen for the emblem of our nation. Others object to the Bald Eagle, says he, as looking too much like a Dindon, or Turkey. For my own part, I wish the Bald Eagle had not been chosen as the representative of our coun- try; he is a bird of a bad moral character; he does not get his living honestly; you may have seen him perched on some dead tree, where, too lazy to fish for himself, he watches the labor of the Fishing Hawk; and when that diligent bird has at length taken a fish, and is bearing it to its nest for the support of his mate and young ones, the Bald Eagle pursues him, and takes it from him. With all this injustice he is never in good case; but like those among men, who live by sharping and robbiiig, he is gen- erally poor, and often very lousy. Besides, he is a rank coward; the little Kingbird, not bigger than a sparrow, attacks him boldly, and drives him out of the district. He is therefore, by no means a proper emblem for the brave and honest Cincinnati of America, who have driven all the Kingbirds from our country; though exactly fit for that order of Knights, which the French call Glievaliers dIndustrie. I am on this account not displeased that the figure is not known as a Bald. Eagle, but looks more like a Turkey. For in truth the Turkey is,~ in comparison, a much more respectable bird, and withal a true original native of America~ 1827.] Phi Beta Kappa Orations. 129 Eagles have been found in all countries, but the Turkey was pe- culiar to ours. lie is besides, (though a little vain and silly, tis true, but not the worse emblem for that,) a bird of courage, and would not hesitate to attack a grenadier of the British guards, who should presume to invade his farm yard with a red coat on. p. 95. In closing this article we owe it to ourselves to state, that we cannot pretend to have rendered justice to the peculiar merits of the authors, whose works we have, perhaps too unadvisedly, taken in hand. If any shall be incited, by what has been said, to consult the volumes themselves, and bestow their praise and patronage on so noble an enterprise, our end will be answered. ART. VIII.1. ./1 Discourse pronounced before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, at the ./lnniversary Celebration, on the Thir- tyflrst day of dugust, 1826. By JOSEPH STORY. Boston. Hilliard, Gray, Little, & Wilkins. [826. 2. sIn Oration pronounced at New Haven, before the Society of Phi Beta Kappa, September 12, 1826. On some of the Considerations, which should influence an Epic or a Tragic Writer, in the Choice of an Era. By JAMES A. HILLHOUSE. NewHaven. A. H. Maltby & Co. 1826. SIR WILLIAM JONES has remarked, while referring to the beauty of some of the oriental manuscripts, that he could al- most find it in his heart, to regret the invention of the art of printing. We do not carry the passion for calligraphy to this extent; nor would we carry any passion to the extent of leading us to regret the art of printing. As there is, however, a bright and a dark side to all things, it is not unprofitable occa- sionally to consider the evils, which are incident to the growth and diffusion of great improvements. Simply to suppose that we are positive gainers, by all the difference between the refined arts of modern life and the ruder processes of antiquity, is to fall into great error. Every discovery and every invention, which effects a great change in human pursuits, although in the long run it may be most highly beneficial, not only must be qualified by some evil consequences directly incident to it, huE by the loss of some advantages of the previously existing ar- rangement, which are displaced and destroyed by the innovation. VOL. XXW.NO. 54. 17

1827.] Phi Beta Kappa Orations. 129 Eagles have been found in all countries, but the Turkey was pe- culiar to ours. lie is besides, (though a little vain and silly, tis true, but not the worse emblem for that,) a bird of courage, and would not hesitate to attack a grenadier of the British guards, who should presume to invade his farm yard with a red coat on. p. 95. In closing this article we owe it to ourselves to state, that we cannot pretend to have rendered justice to the peculiar merits of the authors, whose works we have, perhaps too unadvisedly, taken in hand. If any shall be incited, by what has been said, to consult the volumes themselves, and bestow their praise and patronage on so noble an enterprise, our end will be answered. ART. VIII.1. ./1 Discourse pronounced before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, at the ./lnniversary Celebration, on the Thir- tyflrst day of dugust, 1826. By JOSEPH STORY. Boston. Hilliard, Gray, Little, & Wilkins. [826. 2. sIn Oration pronounced at New Haven, before the Society of Phi Beta Kappa, September 12, 1826. On some of the Considerations, which should influence an Epic or a Tragic Writer, in the Choice of an Era. By JAMES A. HILLHOUSE. NewHaven. A. H. Maltby & Co. 1826. SIR WILLIAM JONES has remarked, while referring to the beauty of some of the oriental manuscripts, that he could al- most find it in his heart, to regret the invention of the art of printing. We do not carry the passion for calligraphy to this extent; nor would we carry any passion to the extent of leading us to regret the art of printing. As there is, however, a bright and a dark side to all things, it is not unprofitable occa- sionally to consider the evils, which are incident to the growth and diffusion of great improvements. Simply to suppose that we are positive gainers, by all the difference between the refined arts of modern life and the ruder processes of antiquity, is to fall into great error. Every discovery and every invention, which effects a great change in human pursuits, although in the long run it may be most highly beneficial, not only must be qualified by some evil consequences directly incident to it, huE by the loss of some advantages of the previously existing ar- rangement, which are displaced and destroyed by the innovation. VOL. XXW.NO. 54. 17 130 P/ti Beta Kappa Orations. [Jan. This reflection is more important to be made, by way of ex- plaining the otherwise seemingly inexplicable fact, that after all the brilliant improvements, inventions, and discoveries of the mod- ern world, the general impression left on the mind, after forming an acquaintance with the moral and social character and condition of men, in the civilized states of antiquity and of the modern world, certainly is, that there is no such vast difference between them; that between ancient literature and modern literature there is by no means that contrast, which prevails between man- uscript circulation and the circulation by the press; and, in a word, that in the possession of means and instruments, seemingly so much more poxverful, various, and numerous, the grand and final effect on human character is by no means so much greater, than that of the ancient means and instruments of improvement, as might have been expected. In saying this, we design by no means to disturb the old controversy, on the comparatii~e merit of the ancients and moderns; nor to wake from their long rest the shades of Tassoni, Perrault, or Wotton. We are willing to grant that, in the result of a general induction, improvements of most brilliant character, and in vast numbers, have been made by the moderns over the ancients; but in the last and great ef- fect of all improvements, the formation of character, we confess our doubts whether modern history presents a larger average of mature, elevated, and finished character than ancient history. The only application, which we wish at present to make of this remark, is to say, that among those favorable circumstances, which, to a certain degree, compensated for the deficiencies of the ancieut arts and improvements, was the superior activity of the social principle. The modern arts, resulting in a division of labor, have broken up the combinations of men, which were formerly necessary, and sent each to his cell, to work out by himself, and with the co-operation of his new found enginery, those effects, which, in an earlier stage of society, were produ- ced by processes more dependent on social union. This ap- plies, if to nothing else, most certainly to the effect of the art of printing on literature. Where no mode of publication exist- ed, but ~he tedious one of manuscript transcription, the reading of prose works, and the recitation or chanting of poetical works, to assembled multitudes, on triumphant occasions, on festal days, in the temples, and at the games, was, in the first instance, the necessary mode of communication. The historian and the poet, who would niake their productIons known, were obliged to go 1827.3 Phi Beta Kappa Orations. 131 with them to the resorts of their countrymen. As secondary, but at the same time highly stimulating and efficient consequen- ces, were the animation resulting from the numbers of a living audience; the added graces of elocution in the reading and de- clamation; the instrumental accompaniment of the lyrical chant; perhaps the rival exhibition of contemporary authors, drawn to- gether for the same object; and at all events, the cheering and kindling sympathy of the allied arts, of the liberal sports, ana of the gorgeous pageantry of the festivals or the games. Herodotus read a portion of his History in the assembly at Athens, and at the Olympic games. It would not be difficult, we suppose, to make this sound very ridiculous, by an ill applied reference to modern analogy. We will even own, that if Hume had undertaken to go thron 0h his History at a Westminster meeting, in New Palace Yard; or Cbief Justice Marshal should insist upon running over his five volumes, upon the turf at the Long Island races, it might in either case, without any dispar- agement to these honored names, be rather a tedious affair to the assembled multitudes. But we apprehend, that when the father of history rehearsed his Muses to the Athenian people; and when Pindar sung his Olympian lyrics, in the temple of Ju- piter at Elis, it was an exhibition as auspicious to the general power and effect of literature on the improvement of a people, as that of a pile of nicely bound volumes in the window of a booksellers shop, to be taken home and carefully conned in private. If we go farther back into antiquity, to the period of the epic muse, and allow ourselves to consider the iliad and Odyssey as the growth of an age, which knew no tablets but the hearts and memories of a delighted audience, catching and treasuring the strains of the wandering minstrel ; and then compare these poems, even as productions of art, with the best, which art aid- ing genius has since produced, we shall feel more strongly the truth of the proposition with which we started. For be it also remembered, that under a dispensation of printed literature, we can with less confidence argue from a distinguished writer to an enlightened community. We frequently behold the phe- nomenon of what is called a man in advance of his age; as well we may. For where a man is enabled, as all are to a cer- tain degree enabled, to form and to improve himself, without that action and reaction of society anciently so essential, he may, in the exercise of strong powers in a happy direction, leave his 132 Phi Beta Kappa Orations. [Jan. contemporaries in the rear. But in antiquity, the author was formed much more by the audience. That, which is written to be recited, declaimed, and chanted, implies a community pre- pared to relish and appreciate it. A minstrel poetry, especially, cannot rise far above the level of the taste and intelligence of the age; and we think it quite fair to argue, for instance, that t~e period of the xvorld, when the sixth canto of the Iliad form- ed the entertainment of some heros festal hoard, or the inter- lude of the games at some public celehration, though it were a l)eriod more remote than the return of the lleraclid~, the siege of Troy, ay, or the expedition of the Argonauts, was no sav- age period. The conception of the scene of Hector and An- dromache is one of civilized life; it is the conception of an age of sentiment, exclusively as that is claimed for the modern world and the romantic nations. Every institution, in modern times, which has the effect of adding to the advantages peculiar to the art of printing, those which belonged to the ancient forms of litcrature, promises the beneficial result of a double agency in promoting the improve- inent of society. It may even be necessary to aim at such a combination, by way of corrective of those evils, which our new and all powerful arts have introduced. It is precisely these ob- jects, which we think may be attained by our literary societies. An assembly composed chiefly of well educated and intelligent persons, collected under the sanction and within the precincts of respectable establishments for education, addressed on literary topics by men of science and letters, under circumstances likely to produce a great effort to excel, is no faint image of the as- semblies of the ancient world, before which the great produc- tions of cultivated minds were exhibited. It is true, these as- semblies are with us occasional; anciently, they were essential; here they are a relaxation; to the elder world they were an im- portant part of the organization of social life. Everything, however, which is done to give dignity and interest to these assemblies, has a favorable operation and tendency of the kind alluded to. Science is wooed from her cell. She casts off her monkish stole, and relaxes from her stern and melancholy as- pect. The cheerful countenances of an intelligent assembly, the welcome note of applause, the animation of the living voice, the communication of thought, feeling, and sentiment from breast to breast, on topics of polite literature, of taste, or of philosophy, make these occasions a source of high gratifica 1827.] Phi Beta Kappa Oration3. 133 tion, and ultimately must make them the means of essential and wide spread benefit. No pains should be spared, to add to their interest and importance, by the selection of those, who are able aud willing to render them attractive. The public taste of our community runs decidedly, but by no means too strongly, in favor of holidays of all kinds, and especially those of a literary character. Respectable as some of them are already, they are likely to become more so, by the honorable rivalry of sister institutions, by the improved charac- ter of the audiences usually assembled, and by the consequently strengthened demand for talent to entertain and satisfy a fastidious assembly. It is now several years, since on occasion of the public appearance of the lamented Buckminster, on the anniversary of the society of Phi Beta Kappa at Cambridge, the public atten- tion and curiosity were excited and gratified to a degree, which has left a permanent and not yet expended effect. To this insti- tution, xve are accordingly indebted for almost the only literary effort of one of the most accomplished of our scholars and one of the most elegant of our writers. His performance on the occasion alluded to, will ever remain a jewel in our literature. It is matter of serious regret, that the combination of certain ex- ercises of a totally different character, we mean the prize de- clamations, with the performances of the society, should have been allowed to take place. The audience, collected for a differ- ent object, is thus preoccupied and wearied out; and what might in itself be the most rational and agreeable of our purely literary festivals, is made tedious and fatiguing. Believing these to be the feelings of the public, we hope the encroachment here allud- ed to will be abated. For the reasons to which we have already referred, we think the public gratitude is due to the eminent jurist, to whom we owe the first of the performances named at the head of this article. We regard him as deserving well of our republic of letters, for lending the sanction of his name and of his example to this lit- erary celebration; as he has especially so deserved of it, by his well conceived, well digested, and well written Discourse. Most of the readers of this Journal are already acquainted with it, and it scarcely needs our aid, either by way of analyzing or extracting, to make it known to the literary public, in proportion to its merits. It is indeed a highly finished sketch of a most extensive subject, presenting nothing less than a discriminating, comprehensive, and accurate revicw of the present state of 134 Phi Beta Kappa Orations. [Jan~ science and letters, particularly in this country, by way of mark~ ing the characteristics and peculiarities of the age and of its cultivation. It is a report from a strong, highly cultivated, and richly stored mind, not of some single professional study, not of some favorite branch of individual pursuit, but of the whole broad domain of intellectual culture, as presenting itself to a mind competent and resolved to go along with the age. It is the less easy to attempt any selection or comparison of the parts of this performance, as one of its merits is the ready transition from one member to another of a long series of interesting top- ics, treated in due proportion to their relative importance, all with spirit, and many with felicity and power. Were we to make an indication, by way of specimen, we should say, that the remarks on female education, on classical learning, and on the deceased patriarchs of America, were among those, to which the reader might first turn back, to prolong and repeat the gratification of the perusal. Nor should it be overlooked, what a beneficial impulse has been thus communicated to education among the female sex. If christianity may be said to have given a permanent elevation to woman, as an intellectual and moral being, it is as true, that the present age, above all others, htts given play to her genius, and taught us to reverence its influence. It was the fashion of other times to treat the literary acquirements of the sex, as starched pedantry, or vain pretensions; to stigmatize them as inconsistent with those domestic affections and virtues, which constitute the charm of society. We had abundant homilies read upon their amiable weaknesses and sentimental delicacy, upon their timid gentleness and submissive dependence; as if to taste the fruit if knowledge were a deadly sin, and ignorance were the sole guardian of innocence. Their whole lives were sicklied oer with the pale cast of thought, and concealment of intellec- tual power was often resorted to, to escape the dangerous imputa- tion of masculine strength. In the higher walks of life, the sati- rist was not without color for the suggestion, that it was A youth of folly, an old age of cards; and that elsewhere, most women had no character at all, be- yond that of purity and devotion to their families. Admirable as are these qualities, it seemed an abuse of the gifts of Providence to deny to mothers the power of instructing their children, to wives the privilege of sharing the intellectual pursuits of their husbands, to sisters and daughters the delight of ministering knowledge in the fireside circle, to youth and beauty the charm of refined sense, to age and infirmity the consolation of studies, 1827.] Phi Beta Kappa Orations. 133 which elevate the soul and gladden the listless hours of despon- dency. These things have in a great measure passed away. The prejudices, which dishonored the sex, have yielded to the influ- ence of truth. By slow but sure advances education has extend- ed itself through all ranks of female society. There is no longer any dread, lest the culture of science should foster that musculine boldness or restless independence, which alarms by its sallies, or wounds by its inconsistencies. We have seen that here, as every where else, knowledge is favorable to human virtue and human happiness; that the refinement of literature adds lustre to the devotion of piety; that true learning, like true taste, is modest and unostentatious; that grace of manners receives a higher polish from the discipline of the schools; that cultivated genius sheds a cheering light over domestic duties, and its very sparkles, like those of the diamond, attest at once its power and its purity. There is not a rank of female society however high, which does not now pay homage to literature, or that would not blush even at the suspicion of that ignorance, which a half century ago was neither uncommon nor discreditable. There is not a parent, whose pride way not glow at the thought, that his daughters happiness is in a great measure within her own com- mand, whether she keeps the cool sequestered vale of life, or visits the busy walks of fashion. A new path is thus opened for female exertion, to alleviate the pressure of misfortune, without any supposed sacrifice of dignity or modesty. Man no longer aspires to an exclusive do- minion in authorship. He has rivals or allies in almost every department of knowledge; and they are to be found among those, whose elegance of manners and blamelessness of life command his respect, as much as their talents excite his admiration. Who is there, that does not contemplate with enthusiasm the precious fragments of Elizabeth Smith, the venerable learning of Eliza- beth Carter, the elevated piety of Hannah More, the persuasive sense of Mrs Barbauld, the elegant memoirs of her accomplished niece, the bewitching fictions of Madame D Arblay, the vivid, picturesque, and terrific imagery of Mrs Radcliffe, the glowing poetry of Mrs Hemans, the matchless wit, the inexhaustible con- versations, the fine character painting, the practical instructions of Miss Edgeworth, the great KNOWN, standing in her own de- partment by the side of the great UNKNOWN? pp. 1518. We were more especially gratified by the remarks on classi- cal literature, as being made at a seasonable moment, and as an authority not open to suspicion. To the testimony of profess- edly academical men, those whose habits are formed to the 136 P/ti Beta Kappa Orations. [Jan~ study of the ancients, and still more those whose reputation and interest are connected with that study, it is always easy to ob- ject a selfish bias. It is not easy to make such an objection, with much plausibility, against the authority of Mr Justice Story7 a man, who, however, meritorious as a scholar, owes his stand- ing in society to a different kind of learning; and whose pre- possessions must of necessity be such as are formed in the busy practice of the most practical of professions. The testimony of such a man possesses all the weight which is due to mere authority of any kind, and which, though no reverencers of mere authority, we think ought to be regarded, in the present case, as a counterpoise to the weight of authorities, which have lately been busily accumulated in the opposite scale. The truth, how- ever, here, as in most other controversies, is in the golden mean, where it is placed in fact by the discriminating observations of Mr Justice Story. To deny all importance and all value to the study of classical literature, is a bigotry just as ridiculous, as to make that study the sole business of education. Most of the argumentation at present current on this head is aimed at parti- cular abuses; at the extravagances, of individuals; or at the excess of that which is good in moderation; or the wrong ap- plication of what is good in the right place. The most illogical conlusion, moreover, prevails, of the different objects to be at- tained, by the study of the ancient languages. This study may bepursued by the man of taste, for the lit- erature of which they are the depository; by the historian, not merely in order to be sure of the sense of historical authorities, but in order to get at what is sometimes the only clew to be had, to the affinity of nations; by the philosopher of the mind, in order to survey the ol)erations of the human intellect to the greatest advantage in the structure of the most perfect systems of expressing thought; by the members of the different profes- sions, in order to master that portion of the literature of their professions, which is contained in these languages; and what is still different from all the rest, this study may be pursued at school and at college, as the study which is found, upon the whole, to furnish the niost eligible basis of education. A great part of what we have seen written and heard said of late, on the topic of the languages, resolves itself into showing that the rea- sons which recommend the study to one class of men do not ap- ply to others. In reference to the last~ mentioned use of the dead languages, namely, that of being a convenient basis for educa 1827.] Phi Beta Kappa Orations. 13~7 tion, the argument against them has the advantage of confining itself to pointing out the objections to this study. We have not perceived any attempt to name any other study or system of studies, which, generally introduced into our schools and colleges as the occupation of that part of the time spent on the lan- guages, would serve a better purpose. One thing we will say, from some experience and some ohservation, that the chemistry, the aiineralogy, the geology, the geography, the history, the ethics of children eight years old are not worth a groat; and that the study of the languages, on judicious principles, is well calculated to exercise and train every power of their minds. Bit it is time to make more particular allusion to the other performance, which is named at the head of this article, the Oration of Mr Hilihouse, at New Haven. Its subject is stated to he some of the considerations, which should influence an epic or tragic writer, in the choice of an era. The high repu- tation of Mr Hillhouse as a poet, naturally awakens a curiosity to hear him discourse of the secrets of the art. We would learn, if possible, the process by which a gifted genius is con- scious of aiming to exercise its peculiar mastery over the minds and hearts of men. The present performance consists of a description and comparison of what are styled the Classic, Ro- mantic, and Scripture eras, in reference to their adaptation for the purposes of poetry; and especially of epic and dramatic poetry. The plan accordingly affords scope for a number of fine observations on the influence of society and manners on the efforts of genius. Mr Hillhouse has entered, to a consider- able extent, into the comparison of the Classic and Romantic schools, a distinction first raised into celebrity, if not suggested, by the Schlegels and Madame de Stahl. In separating the Scripture era from the Romantic, and making a third school out of the materials which it l)resents, Mr Hillhouse has proposed a new distinction, which it may not be ea~ to bring into system- atic connexion with the other two. We understand the genius of the Romantic poetry to be the peculiar character of the North, united with the spirituality of revealed religion; and in his delineation of the second school, or that of Romantic poetry, Mr Hillhouse resorts to the influence of the true religion as the source of some of the best of its qualities. Whether there is, in fact, any such thing as the distinction set up by the continental critics, and not yet well rooted in England and America, of a Classic and Romantic school, is with us a matter of doubt. fin? VOL. xxrv.No. ~4. 12 138 Phi Beta Kappa Orations. [Jan~ whether the existing phenomena of the poetical world afford materials for still a third (listinction ; whether there is, or can be, in the nations of European race, a school of poetry, which is neither Classic nor Romantic, may much more strongly admit of question. To deal fairly, however, by Mr Hillhouse, we will quote the passage, in which he makes this distinction. The source last alluded to, is separate and distinct,of loftier character and more sublime associations. It is the blended his- tory and poetry of a peculiar people. It celebrates, not the actions of fabulous heroes, not the extermination of imaginary monsters, not the exploits of the barbarous nobility of a bloody age; it treasures not the responses of lying oracles, nor the pre- dictions of Flamens and Augurs; it is the sacred and eternal witness of the faith of patriarchs, of the truth of prophets, of the valor of godlike kings; of the existence, agency, and pur- poses of invisible spirits; of the power, providence, and immuta- ble character of God; it is strewed with flowers of paradise, it wafts to our souls the breath of heaven, its inspiration is the efflux of the Holy One. Its mighty influence on the character of man, and on the spirit of poetry, has been alluded to. At the unconsuming fire of the Hebrew Scriptures, it is acknowledc,red that the greatest masters have kindled their sublimity, arid from the tender legacy of our Savior, snatched their finest traits of disinterestedness and love. pp. 19, 20. If it he meant merely here to speak, as a matter of fact, of the sacred history as a separate field, in which to fix the action of an epical or a dramatic composition, the question is indeed narrowed; and it is then obvious to remark, that a poem or a sacred subject may be, accordingly as it is treated, a Classic or a Romantic poem. Thus we suppose, for we profess not to be very deep in this chapter, that the Athalie of Racine is a Classic, and the Messiah of Klopstock a Romantic poem. The Bruto Secondo of Alfieri must certainly be Classic, although it is one of those tragedies, in which its author deprecatingly remarks, in rece di donne, interlocutore e attore, fra molti altissimi personag- era ii popolo. Shakspeares Julius C~sar presents us the same subject on the same scene, the same high personages, and if not thd same people, unquestionably a set of worthy citizens, possessing a much nearer resemblance, than the popolo of Alfieri, to the Roman plebs. But, nevertheless, we take Shak- speares Julius Ca~sar to he a Romantic tragedy; for if this be also Classic, then indeed that term is one of most ample com- prehension. 18~7.] Phi Beta Kappa Orations. 130 Not, however, to enlarge on this, the question, whether the Scriptures and Scripture history afford favorable materials for poetry, is a very fair question; and is treated by Mr Ilillhouse with spirit and taste, and in a highly glowing manner. Mr Hill house evidently feels, as he expresses, a strong prepossession in hvor of this source of poetical associations; and the success of his own efforts on Scripture subjects accounts for and justi- fies the preference. lie discusses with much ingenuity and fervor, and describes in the affirmative the question, which was so positively decided in the negative hy Dr Johnson, regarding the aptness of sacred themes for the purposes of poetry. In the following judicious reflection, however, he has suggested to us a principle, in which is probably contained the whole practical philosophy of the sub- ject. But whatever be the intrinsic merits of any era, there is a consideration, which may he paramount to them all. Subject to fortunate or sinister impressions, long before we can estimate their power, the mind sometimes receives early an unalterable bias. The strength of a second nature thus incorporated with our moral faculties, their successful exertion can only be in con- cert with it. Let no friendly adviser, no presuming critic, no external influence overrule an emphatic whisper from within. That inward monitor only knows the harp, which will respond to the poets touch. Wherever it directs himwhether to the clas- sic lyre, or the shell of heroes, or the wizard harp of fairyland, or the blood stirring string of the feudal minstrel, or the viol of a prophet or an angel, let him snatch thatfrom that or none, will he draw sounds of power. p. ~27. There have been four epic l)Oets in the world, generally con- sidered as standing alone in a circle, to which no other has a full right to he introduced. We doubt if any inference can he drawn from the consideration of the suhjects of their various poems, which authorizes the preference of any one era or region over others, as adapted to poetry. The materials of the Iliad are drawn from the heroic age of Greece, and, according to the general opinion, from that age, as contemplated by one, who lived not long after its close. The action of the }Fneid is placed in a period somewhat similar, or rather in one which the poet has chosen to assimilate to the heroic age of Greece; for, in reality, Italy, at the time when the action of the IEneid is supposed to have taken place, no more resembled Greece in 140 Phi Beta Kappa Orations. [Jan. the time of the Trojan war, than the Aztecs resembled the Vandals. In either case, a state of partial civilization is the only point of resemblance. Virgil, however, by a simple flourish of the wand, set down all Greece, men and gods, the manners of Troy and Olympus, among tl)e Rutulians and the Etruscans. It would be hard to tell, what period furnished Dante with his materials. If any period or any region, it must be considered as Italy in the middle ages; for it is into the characters of his contemporaries, that most of the soul of his poetry is breathed. The Paradise Lost is built on materials, which purport to be drawn from Scripture history; but how little in it of what is most astonishing, beautiful, or pathetic, is to be traced to any other source than the poets own invention! It is where he wanders widest from his directory, that his flu ~ht is most ad- mired; and there is at least one eminent pessage, the account of the Creation, in which the struggle between the record and invention manifestly embarrasses, and had well nigh proved too much for the poet. We feel almost inclined to say, that the choice of the subject and the theatre of the action, are of no consequence to the epic or the dramatic poet; that is, of the first rate excellence. It may be worth while, if a man thinks seriously of writing such a poem (to name one to which Mr Ilillhouse alludes) as Samor, or Leonidas, or Madoc, or the Araucana, or the Henriade, to cast about him for a subject; to choose the right school, and obey all its laws. But the poet of epic genius is a school to himself, and critical disquisition on eras and countries, as far as such poets are concerned, is rather a subsequent description of the facts relative to their productions, than a direction, which a subsequent kindred genius can need, or will follow. There is one school, however, to which even genius may be exhorted to adhere; to which when it has ad- hered, it has wrought its greatest wonders. It is that school, in which Classic, and Romantic, and Hebrew are alike unknown; where ancient and modern cease to stand in contrast; the school of Nature. To the conceptions of this school belong the child of Hector, terrified at his fathers plume; and the father setting his helmet 10 the ground, not so much that he may pray to the Divinity with his head uncovered, as to relieve his infants ter- rors. In the fourth book of the IEneid, Virgil bursts away from the shackles of a cold imitation, is natural, and is beautiful. And what is it but nature, the human passions and affections, which, infused by Dante and by Milton into the breasts of 1827.] Phi Beta Kappa Orations. 141 angels and demons, enable us to sympithize with beings in themselves too far above us or beneath us, for the uses of poetry. In this school, Shakspeare is most uniformly the master. He paints men ; historically they are often most remote from their supposed originals. The Britons in Lear, are about as much like the inhabitants of EnAand before the Romans, as they are like the Greeks or the Trojans. But it is no matter what he calls them. The historic names of Kent and Gloster may be grouped with Gonerils and Regans; the dynasty of Bruto with those of York and Lancaster. So too with his dramas in the region of ancient history. He sets before us men, and calls them Romans. In manners and tone, they are not Romans; but they are something better, they are men. Alien, on the other band, introduces us to a circle of exceed- ingly senatorial and stately characters, who are dressed in a toga, swear by the immortal gods, and are Romans every inch of them, but are not men. it is acting, stage effect; not life and reality. And yet we hold of Alfieri, that he is the most gifted of those, to whom the true poetical inspiration has not been given. He added to talent, ambition, generosity, and courage, an ardent love of liberty; and it ought to be some title to consideration with an American critic, that he dedicated a tragedy to Washington. But we have wandered farther than we designed from the immediate business before us. We owe to Mr Hillhouse ac- knowledgments like those, which we have already rendered to Mr Justice Story. He deserves the thanks of the community for a performance of great heauty, spirit, and taste; and for having done so much to add celebrity to the literary anniversary on which it was delivered. Besides a great deal of good sense, ingenious remark, and elegant learning in this discourse, there is, as might have been expected from Mr Hilihouse, not a little genuine poetry. 142 (;reek Lexicography. [Jan. ART. 1X..-T/ie Greek Lexicon of Sehrevelnts translated into English, with many Jdditions. Boston. Cummings, Liii- liar~I, & Company; University Press, Hilliard & Metcalf. 1826. THIS xvork has many claims to attention, both from the im- portance of the department to which it belongs, and the very respectable names, which are offered as guaranties for the excellence of its execution. This effort to bring the study of the Greek language more directly within the notice and the means of every English scholar, is calculated to have a strong and salutary influence on the state of Greek erudition in the country. We have examined the present Lexicon with feel- ings of gratitude toward those, who have given us what was greatly desired, and are happy in making our acknowledgments to them for their endeavors to facilitate the study of the Greek, by availing themselves of the English idiom in the interpretation of the words. Justice to the American editors requires, that all the faults, which may be observed in the work, should not be charged upon them; the original is answerable for the greater part. They do, indeed, make themselves reponsible for the significa- tion annexed to each word. Schreveliuss Latin interpretations, they rightly observe, are often ambiguous and unsatisfactory; and they have, to the best of their ability, rendered the English explanations from the original Greek. They have also endeav- ored to introduce all words, which occur in the books now studied in our schools; but, in this attempt, they do not flatter themselves that they have fully succeeded. In some instances they have marked the quantity of doubtful vowels, and the responsibility of this improvement rests entirely with them. Before proceeding any further, we may be permitted to ex- press our sincere respect for the original editor of the present work. Owing to the dilatory manner in which it has been pre- pared and published, Greek and English Lexicons have antici- pated it; but it is due to Mr Pickering to say, that he was the first among us to set himself earnestly to the task of preparing such a Lexicon, and that his design was matured and laid before the public long before any similar work was announced in Great Britain. We mention this circumstance with satisfac- tion, as creditable to the state of learning among us, and a~

142 (;reek Lexicography. [Jan. ART. 1X..-T/ie Greek Lexicon of Sehrevelnts translated into English, with many Jdditions. Boston. Cummings, Liii- liar~I, & Company; University Press, Hilliard & Metcalf. 1826. THIS xvork has many claims to attention, both from the im- portance of the department to which it belongs, and the very respectable names, which are offered as guaranties for the excellence of its execution. This effort to bring the study of the Greek language more directly within the notice and the means of every English scholar, is calculated to have a strong and salutary influence on the state of Greek erudition in the country. We have examined the present Lexicon with feel- ings of gratitude toward those, who have given us what was greatly desired, and are happy in making our acknowledgments to them for their endeavors to facilitate the study of the Greek, by availing themselves of the English idiom in the interpretation of the words. Justice to the American editors requires, that all the faults, which may be observed in the work, should not be charged upon them; the original is answerable for the greater part. They do, indeed, make themselves reponsible for the significa- tion annexed to each word. Schreveliuss Latin interpretations, they rightly observe, are often ambiguous and unsatisfactory; and they have, to the best of their ability, rendered the English explanations from the original Greek. They have also endeav- ored to introduce all words, which occur in the books now studied in our schools; but, in this attempt, they do not flatter themselves that they have fully succeeded. In some instances they have marked the quantity of doubtful vowels, and the responsibility of this improvement rests entirely with them. Before proceeding any further, we may be permitted to ex- press our sincere respect for the original editor of the present work. Owing to the dilatory manner in which it has been pre- pared and published, Greek and English Lexicons have antici- pated it; but it is due to Mr Pickering to say, that he was the first among us to set himself earnestly to the task of preparing such a Lexicon, and that his design was matured and laid before the public long before any similar work was announced in Great Britain. We mention this circumstance with satisfac- tion, as creditable to the state of learning among us, and a~ .L827.j Greek Lexicography. 14~3 particularly honorable to him, by whom the plan was thus early dev~ed and partly executed; since his own generous love for let- ters i~terested him in the cause of Greek literature, who might have found, in the successful exercise of a laborious profession, a sufficient excuse for nejecting classical pursuits, and he has steadily prosecuted and accomplished a design, which no oee but a man of literary leisure and habits, or of great perse- verarce, could have been expected to form. Professor Oliver, of Dartmouth College, translated about half of the work ; the original editor made nearly all the additions, and revised the whole. It is, indeed, remarkable, that it should have so long remained the practice to explain the Greek language through the medium of the Latin. At first it was the readiest course; for in all Europe the republic of letters numbered but few citizens; but why this custom has been continued in England is hard to de- termine, unless it he, that an intimate knowledge of the Latin was unreasonably and disproportionably valued, and the attach- ment to established usage unduly cherished. The views of the Preface on this point are sound, and the arguments used con- vincing. Sebrevelius, with his Latin interpretations, will hardly be again printed in this country. The pres~nt translation super- sedes its use entirely. A Greek and English Lexicon was much desired and needed. It may, however, be a question with some whether Schrevelius, in the present state of Greek learning, is on the whole the best that could have been selected. On this subject it is proper for the editors to speak for themselves. The basis of the work is Schreveliuss well known Lexicon; which, on the whole, in the present state of Greek studies in this country, was thought preferable to any other manual adapted to the ~ise of schools. That work has been long in general use in England, and has passed through numerous editions in that as well as other parts of Europe. Dr Knox, whose judgment in a question of practical education is entitled to much respect, in comparing it with the othe; Lexicons in use at the time when he wrote, observes, though perhaps in stronger terms than he would use at the present day, that Schrevelius is with great propriety everywhere used; that it is particularly adapted to the Greek Testament and to Homer; and is well suited both to the beginner ~nd to the proficient i~m Greek. 144 (ireek Lexico~traphy. [Jaii~ The Editors are aware of the objections, which have been made to Schrevcliuss work by some writers of authority; but those objections are almost exclusively applicable to the Latin interpretation, which, it must be acknowledged, is extremely de- fective. Considered, however, as a simple vocabulary of the Greek language, particularly with the numerous additions, which have been made of the words occurring in the various school books, that have been introduced since the authors time, it ap- pears to be sufficiently ample and well suited to the use for which it was originally designed, the use of the younszer classes of Greek students. Indeed, it would seem natural, that a work, which has been gradually built up and augmented with new words in proportion as the introduction of new books created new wants in our schools, should be sufficiently well adapted to those wants. This mode of constructing a work, however, by the labors of suc- cessive editors, undoubtedly exposes it to an objection of another kind, the want of unity in design and execution. But the want of that unity will not be so much felt in a dictionary as in books of some other descriptions. Schreveliuss work was originally extracted from that of Scapula (an edition of which he super- intended), and seems to have been first published in 1654. It was more particularly intended for the Old and New Testaments, Homer, Hesiod, Musa~us, Theognis, Pythagoras, and other Gnomic authors, Isocrates, A~sop, & c.; the author also made use of Por- tuss Ionic and Doric Lexicons, and the Lexicon to Pindar and the other Lyric poets. It was published several times on the continent of Europe during the authors life; and ~vithin that pe- riod was also republished in England by Hill, who enlarged it considerably, more particularly with words from the New Testa- ment, the Septuagint, and the principal poets and orators, as well the school books of the day. He also added many of the aorists and other tenses, which are so profusely and unnecessarily scat- tered through the work. Besides the editorial labor bestowed upon it in England, it has received improvements in France, where a valuable edition of it was published in 1779, by the celebrated scholar Vauvilliers; who, as the late editor L6cluse observes, mercilessly retrenched all the expositions of the anomalous words and other parts of the work. These retrench- rnents have been restored by L& luse, whose edition of 1819 is the latestFrench one that happens to have come to our knowl- edge. Of the other editions, we have before us the Italian one in folio, and a German one, reprinted from the Paris copy, at Vienna, in 182~, under the editorial superintendence of Kritsch; who justly observes, that the Lexicon, as now published, is very different from the ancient editio{is both in copiousness and expla 1827.] Greek Lexicography. 145 nations; and, he adds, that in its present state it may with pro- priety be recommended to the student in Greek literature. Preface, pp. 6, 7. From this statement it would appear, that the editors have spared no pains in consulting the best editions, and we may presume that Schrevelius has never appeared in a form so accurate and complete. Without going into an inquiry, as to the merits of this Lexicon, compared with other manuals of more recent date, the jud~inent of the editors in their selection, may doubtless be sustained by the circumstauee of the present extensive use of Schrevelius in our schools. To ensure success, in a first attempt of this sort, it was desirable to avoid awak- ening in any a prejudice, which might defeat the purpose of the undertaking. This book is intended only for boys at school, and should not be criticised as a work designed for advanced scholars, or as a key to the difficulties of the Greek language. Other Lexicons, of which we shall hereafter speak, must be re- sorted to for this purpose. The editors have introduced several improvements. Upwards of two thousand articles are either wholly new, or have received additions. These are distinguished by a bracket placed at the end. it would have been better, if the new matter could have been enclosed in brackets, so that we could at once ascertain how much is new. From the nature of the undertaking, how- ever, this would have been very difficult, perhaps impossible. At present it requires a careful comparison with the original, to ascertain what is added. So far as we have compared them, ~ve have found the articles improved; yet in some cases the ad- ditions were not very important. Several learned disquisitions are interspersed, under the prepositions and the article, in which the uses of these are explained with as much minuteness, as would be advantageous to young students. The editors were manifestly right in retaining the accents. The absence of them in Greek books is an imperfection, which we hope will not be tolerated. Among the Lexicons consulted by the editors, as mentioned in the Preface, were those of He- dericus, Planche, Schneider, WahI, and, for some of the last pages, Jones. The Lexicon of Dr Jones, but for an inconve- nient arrangement of the words, the fatal omission of the accents, and the many peculiarities of opinion, which he has suffered to exert an influence throughout the whole, would be of great value for common use, till the excellent qualities of the Greek and German dictionaries can be transferred to the Greek and English. VOL. XXIV.NO. 5t 119 146 Greek Lexicography. [Jan. The editors give their opinion, that Greek should be com- menced before Latin. We would say likewise, that Greek may now be studied independently of Latin. We see no rea- son, why a lover of learning, who in early life has not had the fortune to learn either, should not learn the Greek language only, if he has time but for one. We hold it a duty further to notice the neat typographical execution of this work, and cheerfully bear testimony to the merits of the gentleman, who superintends the University Press, at Cambridge, and has given us more accurate editions of clas- sical works than had ever before appeared in America. WTe shall not enter into minute criticisms of this work; the general character of Schrevelius, as a school dictionary, is well known; in its present dress it is much better suited to the wants of young students, than heretofore; and its influence in the encouragement of Greek studies we believe will be widely felt. In future editions it may he further improved, and the time will come when a manual on a hetter plan, and executed with a freer use of the great and successful labors of the late German lexicographers, may he adopted. In connexion with this subject, we shall take the opportunity to add a few remarks on several of the Greek lexicons, which have from time to time gained a high reputation. The dictionaries of living languages in common use are for the most part arranged, or intended to be arranged, in such a manner as to give the readiest information respecting the present signification and syntax of the words; and this mode is conve- nient where the object is, not the pursuit of literary history, but to acquire the living dialect as an actual vehicle of thought. Thus our Spanish dictionaries give us rather the language of today, than of the classic authors in Spanish literature; and he, who has learnt the tongue as now used in the journals and writ- ings of Spain, is still far from knowing all the richness and sub- limity of the Castilian. Be this method of arranging a dictionary right or wrong for the living languages, it is plainly a bad one for the ancient dialects. A language, of which not only the the origin and improvement, but the decline and extinction can be described, should be studied historically. In this way the characteristics of each age will be given, and the changes in signification of the words be explained in the order in which they took place. The form, the significations, and the use of the word should 1827.] Greek Lexicography. 147 all find a place in a dictionary of a dead language, before it can claim to be perfect. We should first expect to find the word in its most simple, primitive form. Then, if there be several forms under which it appears, as is the case with a great number of words in the Greek language, these various forms must be set down and arranged in the manner, in which they are respectively deduced from one another, and the age ascertained, to xvhich each belongs. If the orthography of the word is questionable, that too deserves consideration. And the quantity of the sylla- bles, where they are doubtful, should also be fixed. We may further expect, that the various inflexions and changes of the word should be given, where they do not strictly conform to the general rules of conjugation or inflexion, so that he, who is ac- quainted with the grammar, may be able to form the remaining parts without further assistance. The word itself being thus disposed of, its significations must be enumerated, and in chronological order. We have written monuments of the Greek language out of a period extending through more than two thousand years, during which it was spoken. In this long period the character of many words was essentially changed. In our own times hoxv many significations have heen given to words within a few years. Liberal, radical, and many others need an explanation for themselves, suited to the age. What if these words were found in a writer of Queen Elizabeths time, and translated by a foreigner as they ought to be, if found in works of the current literature? What ab- surdity would ensue! And how many words there are, which in Homer differ in signification from the same in a writer of At- tic prose, some centuries later! Thus, to take the first example that offers, rat~ means originally deception, cunning; ~schy- lus uses it of an action, which he praises; and it also came to mean, that which decetnes t%me, and so, a pastime, amusement. Koa~uo~ originally meant order. Thus Homer makes his men ~auup xa~fl~tv. Pythagoras first used the word to signify the world. HOL12T~ is another word of a similar kind, and the num- ber might be indefinitely increased. We repeat it; the signifi- cations of each word should be chronologically arranged. This will bring into the first place the original and proper meaning of the xvord, and the abstract, the more general, the metaphorical, may then follow in philosophical order. Nor will it he safe to omit the etymologies; for though they cannot be depended upon as the sole guides to a correct interpretation, they yet point to 148 Greek Le icogr~phy. [Jan. the main idea, from which the other significations must be shown to proceed. The peculiarities of syntax should find a place in an article, designed to be complete. The proverbial expressions are to be enumerated, and even the remarkable cases of ellipsis are not to be omitted. The times are changed from those, when the language was ac- quired by oral instruction, and the treasures of Greek learning were inaccessible to any but a few fortunate individuals. Our intention is, not so much to give a history of the dictionaries which have been successively made, as to call attention to the triumvirate of German lexicographers, who have in our days deserved to divide the harvest of applause. The first Greek and Latin dictionary made in England was the work of Hadrian Junius, one of the most learned men of the sixteenth century. In those days scholarship was rare, and a man might play a great part in the world by means of erudi- tion. Junius was a Dutchman by birth, but found employment in England. In 1548 he dedicated his Lexicon to the Protest- ant king Edward, and his books were accordingly denounced and prohibited at Rome. Shortly after we find him exercising the vocation of a poet, and, to make his peace with the papists, writing an epithalamium on the marriage of the English queen Mary. The unquiet state of England alarmed him, and he fled to the continent, when the king of Denmark invited him to his court. But the Dutchman, liking the climate of Copenhagen little, and his wife liking the Danes less, they took French leave, and caine to Haerlem. Here honors were heaped upon him. He became head of the college; was commissioned by the States General to write the history of Holland; and, passing his time in literary labors, indulged himself in delightful visions of immortal renown. But the hostile Spaniards disturbed him in his learned occupations; and he fled from Haerlem. When the city was taken, his library was plundered, and his hopes of eter- nal fame scattered with his hooks. After this the air of this world did not agree with him, and he soon died of disappoint- ment, and regret at the loss of his manuscripts and of his prospec- tive immortality. Juniuss great work is his .JV~omenclator Octi- linguis, which Bayle commends as excellent, and which more recently the illustrious Wolf declares to he of value. We should hardly allude to Henry Stephanus, (Etienne), but to acknowledge the admirable character and vast erudition of ~827.] Greek Lexicography. 149 his Thesaurus of the Greek language, and to lament the mis- fortunes of his earthly pilgrimage. If his Thesaurus is not per- fect, it was nearly so for the times; and if we consider that it was made in the infancy of the typographic art, before many Greek authors had been published who have since been brought to light; when the study of etymology was yet but beginning, before the spirit and character of the Greek language were well understood; when it was necessary to choose examples sometimes from manuscripts, and sometimes from incorrect printed copies, which have received essential improvements from the labors of later critics; when the imperfect state of eriti- cal learning compelled him often to hazard conjectural emenda- tious, and in an age, when he was obliged himself to collect many of the materials for his work xve cannot but feel a sort of reverence and admiration, as we confess that he has produced a Thesaurus of the Greek language, never yet surpassed, and meriting for its unfortunate author the respect and gratitude of all succeeding scholars. The fact can hardly be explained, ex- cept by calling to mind the wonderful family to which he be- longed. The son inherited the taste and the collections, the zeal and the manuscripts of his father, his honorable art and his love of learning. In his youth, Henry the First (for these most eminent of printers are, like kings, thus distinguished in literary history) enjoyed the instruction of accomplished scholars, and hardly had he reached his twentieth year, before an edition of Horace, with notes, announced to the world his early proficiency, and gave promise of his future eminence. He must have de- voted himself to learning with his whole soul, and through sorrow and adversity remained true to his choice with intense and ardent attachment. Three years of learned investigation were passed under the sky of Italy. England and the Neth- erlands were also visited before he established himself at Paris. During a part of his life he suffered under the most oppres- sive and wasting melancholy. To publish his Thesaurus, the preparations for which must have cost incredible labor, re- quired eleven years. And not many had elapsed after its com- pletion, before John Scapula, a man whom he had had in Ins em~)loy, published a less costly lexicon, which proposed nothing of value, but what was stolen from his master. Our admirable Stephanus, dispirited and in wretched circumstances, passed the latter part of his life without any permanent place of abode, living by turns in Switzerland, France, and Germany, and at 1St) Gre& k Lexicography. rJan. las~t, when more than seventy years of age, died in a hospital at Lyons, a bankrupt in fortune and in mind. Such was the melancholy fate of one of the most eminent scholars of his age, and one of the most useful of all time. His merits entitle him to profound and grateful respect; the recol- lection of his personal and mental sufferings mingle.s itself with our admiration, and makes us regret that he did not live in an age, when his worth would have ensured him more reputation and prosperity. It is no part of our object to trace the history of Greek lexi- cog:aphy through all its .changes. Scapula took from Stephanus, and was abridged in his turn, in 1654, by Schrevelius. The lexicon of Benedict Hedericus did not appear till 1722, and meanwhile the work of Schrevelius had all the success that it deserved. The world is quit of any Ibrther debt to the shade of its author. Original merit was never claimed for the Lexicon of Hederi- cus. It was huddled together out of Scapula, a mere alphabeti~ cal register of words with borrowed interpretations, which Hede- ricus himself has been said not always to have understood, and which he has never been accused or suspected of having im- proved. Yet it so far surpassed that of Sebrevelius, that it immediately caine into general use on the continent. Patrick who pretended to have improved it in London, is charged by later critics with having left the old faults quietly in their places, and augmented them with some of his own. In the meantime great progress had been made in criticism. New editions of the ancient authors appeared, to which lists of words were added, and those particularly noticed, which had not been inserted in the Thesaurus of Henry Stephens. Assisted by these works, Er- nesti revised the Lexicon of Hedericus, and published an improv- ed edition of it in 1754, and again in 1766. This was the lexicon generally used in Germany till near the close of the last century. John Augustus Ernesti was a kind of prince among the schol- ars of his day. Yet greatness did not surprise him in his youth. At thirtyfour years of age he was but the associate director of the classical school in Leipsic, and xvas fortyfive before he re- ceived an appointment in the university as Professor Extraordi- narmus. Yet by degrees he grew to be a great man in the rela- tions of life, as well as in Inerit. He was the first professor of theology in Leipsic, prebendary of the cathedral at Meissen, 1827.] Greek Lexicography. 151 decemvir of the university, the founder of a new school in phi- lology and theology, president of a scientific society, the restorer of eloquence, and one who filled the lettered world with his fame, as some one well says. When Lessing, who was a phy- sician by profession, but also an accurate and persevering schol- ar, published the Wolfeubjittel fragments, which startled the learned world, Ernesti declared the librarian worthy of a doc- torate in theology, and took occasion publicly in a lecture to hold him up as an example and a proof, that a thorough classi- cal scholar is capable of accomplishin~, anything that he sets about. What a difference is there between that age and ours. Th6h a good philologian was held to be fit for every thing; but We have fallen on evil days, On evil days and evil tongues have fallen, and now there are those who will scarcely allow a Latin and Greek scholar to be good for anything. The success of the Hederic-Ernesti Lexicon was immense; vet its merits fall far short of the demands of the age. The Latin language did not seem the best adapted to explain the significatious of the words; and a different standard of excel- lence in this department had been established by the criticisms and examples of several scholars in Holland. Various attempts at improvement were made, the most respectable by Hans, till at last a new era was in fact begun by the persevering erudition of John Gottlob Schneider. He, like Ernesti, was a pupil of the Pforta, a school that has sent forth more heroes in philology, than the Trojan horse ever did in war, and on repairing to the university of Leipsic, he had the benefit of Ernestis instructions. Schneider had at first to contend against want. At the age of eighteen he began his lit- erary career with notes on Anacreon. A later work gained for him the regard of Heyne, and a place as the amanuensis of Brunck. This he occupied at Strasburg for three years, then lived as professor at Frankfort on the Oder thirty years, and at last found rest and happiness, an honorable competence and a grave, at Breslau, where the last ten years of his life were pass- ed in quiet, which was made doubly agi~eeable by the cares and privations of his early years. He died in January, 1822. ~I1isL exicon is but one of many monuments of his learning and activity. Schneider is spoken of as no less amiable in the relations of private life, than eminent in the literary world. There is an air 152 Greek Lexicography. [Jan. of earnestness and modesty in his great undertaking. Not that he could not estimate his own worth, and find support in the con- sciousness of it. But there is nothing arrogant about him. De- cided in his opinions, he is always ready with his reasons; and in doubtful cases he appeals to argument, not to the value of his own authority, or the extent of his own experience and critical skill. In the preface to the first edition of his dictionary, after alluding to his own model of perfection in this department, he says, How contented should I be, if in a work, so wearisome, and made so difficult and bitter to me by incidental circumstan- ces, I should so far have succeeded, that a connoisseur in these things could say of me, If this man had formed his plan much earlier in life, pursued it firmly, slowly, and calmly, in the fitting leisure, with the necessary serenity of mind, and with the re- quisite collection of books, he would have brought his work near enough to the model, of which he had a clear conception. And after a long interval, in the third edition, made in the last years of his life, though he had been restless in his efforts to improve his work, he yet acknowledges how far it is from perfection, and breathes a pious wish, that some labor]oving countryman may undertake to continue, enlarge, and improve it. And again, acknowledging the many advantages he derived from the criticisms, which he had cheerfully received and made use of, the venerable veteran, for the last time editing a work, the greatest monument of the value of his life to his fellowmen, offers his gratitude to all, who from a love of science, and in the language of humanity, without sarcastic bitterness, will contribute anything to the perfection of the great under- taking. The excellent qualities of Schneiders Lexicon, which render it superior to that of Hedericus, are, a greater copiousness of words, selected from the profane writers; the omission of many words which rested on no sufficient authority, and had found their way by mistake into the Lexicons; the more accurate ety- mological derivation of the words; the careful investigation of the original meaning of each word; the historical and philoso- phical acturacy, with which the several significations are unfold- ed and arranged; the omission of all the analytical parts except in cases of an extraordinary nature; and the peculiar care with which the technical terms, and words belonging to natural his- tory, are explained. Wherever he differs from Stephanus, he supports his own statement by a citation from a Greek author, 1827.] I ~ Greek Lexicography. or a sufficient reference; and while many useless words have been retrenched, their place is supplied by others more valu- able, derived from Greek authors, published since the days of Stephanus. During his long life he never was idle. Deem- ing it of importance for the knowledge of the Greek language to understand the state of natural science in the days of an- tiquity, he deliherately entered upon the study of natural history, and even pursued the branch of ichthyology to a great extent; and the object of all was mainly to make his Lexicon better. One of the last acts of Schneiders life was the publishing of a supplementary volume to his Lexicon. It contains several thousand words from authors less frequently read, and of less intrinsic value. We mention it with the more pleasure, because it offers a gratifying example of the spirit of cooperation, suc- cessfully and cheerftilly exercised; since Weigel, Buttmann, Jacobs, and Coray, with a multitude of others, may be men- tioned, as having contributed to form the volume. It is a work, which should be in the scholars library, though it will not often lie on his table. The dictionary of Schneider was too large for general use in schools. Professor Frederic William Riemer, of Weimar, tin- dertook to make an abridgment of it; but his mind was too original, too inquisitive, and too independent, to follow in the track of any man. His work, therefore, soon became one of a peculiar character. Riemer is a learned man, and a man of taste also. His name is well known in the polite literature of his country. The air of Weimar breathes of the gay science; and numerous as is the rhyming brood, that nestle under the wings of Gcethe, the two neat duodecimo volumes of the fic- titious Silvio Romano have won for the Greek lexicographer a respectable rank among the poets of the ducal residence. Rie- mer is entirely national. His rapid mind is ingenious at tracing analogies in the derivation of words; he finds the seeds of the German wrapt up in the Greek. His pages sparkle with repar- tees and capital hits at his antagonists; and while you are gaining, through his interpretations, an accurate knowledge of a Greek word, you may have a chance to laugh at his puns, or smile at his chuckling, as he successfully exposes faults in the criticisms of his adversaries. Of course he is not spared by those, who suffer from his gibes; and while the public have crowned his work with most distinguished success, some cavillers have been even hardy enough to deny his learning. Riemer laughs at them all: VOL. xXtV.NO. 54. 20 154 6~reek Lexicography. [Jam in his Preface quotes and ridicules those, who reproach him with frightful ignorance ; and, such is his humor, ends the last article of a book, which cost him five and twenty years labor, with a jest. We confess we like to use Riemers Lexicon better than any other; every article is so lively, so exact, perspicuous, and instructive. As it followed, and at first abridged Schneider, it has the same general merits. Riemer has interspersed his pages with many little discussions, with which we are pleased, though, we confess, they do not belong properly to a Lexicon. Further, he has devised a very ingenious way of marking the quantity of doubtful vowels, without interfering with the accent. The marks are placed under the syllables. Dr Francis Passow, of Breslan, was of opinion, that he could make a better book than Werners. Passow is a man of talents and elevated character; his name not unknown to the luse 01 his country. A friend of Schneiders, and a teacher at the same university, he undertook to prepare the large work of the mighty master for general use. It is plain, that Passow despises, or affects to despise, the attainments of his Weimar competitor, and at the close of one of his divisions, obviously calls in ques- tion his knowledge of Greek prosody. We shall give the claims of his dictionary to peculiar merit nearly in his own words. A more careful explanation of the prepositions, particles, and conjunctions, the most perfect exposition, that could he given, of the use of language in Homer and Hesiod, arid the designa- tion of the quantity of the syllabYs, which, before he gave the signal, had been entirely neglected, but now is already ac- knowlcdged to be indispensable; these have been and remain his chief object. As a fourth, he may add the omission or warning exposure of such forms of words, as had been coined at random by ancient and modern corrupters of language, without external authority, according to analogies of language often misunderstood. And now, as to the labor of lexicography, we have seen with what patience and assiduity Schneider continued to use every means of improving his work, even to the latest year of his life. In the supplement ry volume, published a few months before his death, he complains of no labor, but that which led to no result, and which had been Ibreed from him by the criticisms of the many, who thought themselves fit to play the master over him, though they had enough to learn them- selves. Riemer keptup his spirits through twentyfive years of 1827.] Greek Lexicography. 155 labor, and more than twentysix hundred pages of his dictionary. Passow asks of those, who complain of the irksome and dis- gusting nature of such labors, what keeps them thus chained like galley slaves to the oar; and adds, that the rich, infinitely various, and constantly new exercise of mind, which this branch of philological studies offered, was an abundant recompense for all the labors, without which no safe step could be taken, and of which he had~ gone through not fewer nor less considerable, than those who complained the most loudly. rrirn best edition of Schneider is the third, printed at Leipsic, in 1819. The supplementary volume appeared in April, 1821, and probably will not be reprinted, as it is not designed for universal use. By far the best edition of Riemer is his last, the fourth, which was begun in 1823, and finished in 1825. That of Passow has, as yet, been printed but once, and having been begun in 1819, was completed in 1824. Its excellence leais us to believe, that it will go through a new edition before many years. The greatest praise belongs so Schneider, because he is the father of almost all the improvements in Greek lexicography; Riemer is the most amusing, very clear and careful, the most ingenious, and, we confess, our favorite; Passow, perhaps, the most convenient for daily use, accurate, trustworthy, and com- plete for the learners purposes. It may not be out of place to add, that a new edition of Hedericus, with the alterations, omissions, and additions, requisite to make it worthy of the age, is now executing by Dr Gustavus Pinzger of Breslan, under the eye of Passow. We have been led into so large remarks already, that we do not venture upon discussing one or two questions of which we are reminded by our subject, and on which a word might now be in season. One is, whether it is worth our while to study Greek at all in this country; for there are those, who go out as knights- errant against Latin and Greek, and fashion into the shape of monsters everything, that bears a resemblance to ancient eru- dition ; men, who would banish the Muse of Hellas, with her own Astra~a, from the earth. We mean not those, who con- tend, and, as we think, rightly, for more liberty in our courses of public instruction, and who would leave the ~vants of the country, in connexion with the tastes of those who give themselves to study, to regulate the degree of attention, which shall be paid to each separate branch of learning; but those, who are governed by an undiscriminating and impotent 156 improvement of Common Schools. [Jan. hatred of classical learning, and rail at what they cannot under- stand, and, happily, cannot injure. We also intended to point out the absurd reasoning of a late writer in the Edinburgh Review, who, in the number for June last, has defended that superficial system of instruction, w ich most favors the indolence of teachers, and the weakness of boys. This they now bring forward as the wonderful invention of one Mr Hamilton, the rival of him who first lighted London with gas, the great Macadamizer of the road to learning. But we find this subject anticipated, and the general l)rinciples, which must be applied to its decision, clearly and forcibly stated in our American Journal of Education; and on the general question, we content ourselves with a reference to that work. ART. X.Essays upon Popular Education, containing a par- ticular E amination of the Schools of .illassachusetts, and an Outline of an Institution Jbr the Education of Teachers. By JAMES G. CARTER. 8vo. pp. 60. Boston. 1826. Bowles & Dearborn. WE have lately offered some remarks on Popular Education; and we are glad to meet with such an occasion as this pamphlet furnishes, for inviting the attention of our readers again to the subject. We have read these Essays with more than a feeling of interest and pleasure; and we venture earnestly to recom- mend them to general perusal. They are judicious and able, full of sound and liberal views, and important suggestions. They contain much, in a brief space, and must be read for re- flection, and not for entertainment. They wili not answer for dreaming or dozing away a dull hour after dinner; but for a man who sits upright, and is wide awake to the state and movement of things around him, we will engage, that this pamphlet shall furnish matter to think about and act upon. MrCarter is too much concerned for the interests, which he advocates,, and has a mind too much occupied with matters of reality and importance, to care much for our entertainment. From the very limits of his work, also, he has given us a pphlet of hints, which, as he seems to be well aware, might be easily swelled into volumes of discussions. Our own space, it is obvious, is yet more limited; but we

156 improvement of Common Schools. [Jan. hatred of classical learning, and rail at what they cannot under- stand, and, happily, cannot injure. We also intended to point out the absurd reasoning of a late writer in the Edinburgh Review, who, in the number for June last, has defended that superficial system of instruction, w ich most favors the indolence of teachers, and the weakness of boys. This they now bring forward as the wonderful invention of one Mr Hamilton, the rival of him who first lighted London with gas, the great Macadamizer of the road to learning. But we find this subject anticipated, and the general l)rinciples, which must be applied to its decision, clearly and forcibly stated in our American Journal of Education; and on the general question, we content ourselves with a reference to that work. ART. X.Essays upon Popular Education, containing a par- ticular E amination of the Schools of .illassachusetts, and an Outline of an Institution Jbr the Education of Teachers. By JAMES G. CARTER. 8vo. pp. 60. Boston. 1826. Bowles & Dearborn. WE have lately offered some remarks on Popular Education; and we are glad to meet with such an occasion as this pamphlet furnishes, for inviting the attention of our readers again to the subject. We have read these Essays with more than a feeling of interest and pleasure; and we venture earnestly to recom- mend them to general perusal. They are judicious and able, full of sound and liberal views, and important suggestions. They contain much, in a brief space, and must be read for re- flection, and not for entertainment. They wili not answer for dreaming or dozing away a dull hour after dinner; but for a man who sits upright, and is wide awake to the state and movement of things around him, we will engage, that this pamphlet shall furnish matter to think about and act upon. MrCarter is too much concerned for the interests, which he advocates,, and has a mind too much occupied with matters of reality and importance, to care much for our entertainment. From the very limits of his work, also, he has given us a pphlet of hints, which, as he seems to be well aware, might be easily swelled into volumes of discussions. Our own space, it is obvious, is yet more limited; but we I ~27.] Improvement of Common Schools. 157 cannot let this number of our Journal go forth, without yielding the full measure of all the encouragement, which it is iii our power to give, to the plan that Mr Carter has laid before us. We say the plan, for it is to the projected Institution br the instruction of Teachers, an outline of which is given in the l2st Essay, that we shall principally direct our observations. All the previous Essays, indeed, are designed to prepare the way for the consideration of this project; and we undertake to say, that all the reflection, which any man may employ on the sub- ject of popular education, all the faults he laments, all the im- provement he desires, will lead him to the same result. The course of argument, by which we ourselves have been led to this result, may he set forth in few words. In the first place, better schools are wanted. We mean, that tbe Free Schools, or what are usually balled, the Common, and in the country, District Schools, need to be made better, and more efficient organs of instruction and influence. Whoever does not believe this, will, of course, dismiss our argument as deficient in the first particular; and we must dismiss him, which we would gladly do, to the pages of Mr Carter, or to his own reflections; or we would rather, for the sake of a practical de- monstration, send him into the midst of one of our Common Schools; a place, we are sorry to say, ~vhere very few of the body of our people, very few parents or guardians, ever go. We would ask our easy and unsuspicious advocate of the present sys- tems, to look about him, and to mark the restlessness, or reluct- ance, or stupidity, that pervades all these schools. He will find some pupils reading, what every tone of their voices tells him, they do but half understand; some, poring over the pages of a grammar, or hunting out the parts of speech in a dictionary, a work altogether mechanical, of the principles of which they understand literally nothing, and of which Ehere are thirtyfive chances out of forty, that their master understands as little; others, he will find studying geography, in such a way, that they comprehend it as vaguely as we do the geography of the moon, and care ahout it a great deal less, than some of us do about that luminary, who see in it volcanoes, and city walls, and the shadow of towers; and others still, scowling over a perplexing sum in arithmetic, to which they apply no other logic, than that of the multiplication table. Let our inquirer meet with these children at home, and talk with them about their schools; let him enter a little into their 158 improvement of Common Schools. [Jan. minds, for they have minds, though our common systems of instruction seem scarcely to recognise them; let him endeavor to ascertain what is the impulse, which carries these children daily to the schoolroom; and he will find, that when the novelty is worn off, the new master, the new acquaintances and objects have grown old; xvhen the chance of being the hest scholar, and the certificate of merit, and the fine present, are all out of the question; when, in short, he divests this matter of all extra- neous influences, and of all that is barely mechanical, he will find, we say, that the impulse, which carries these children to school, is necessity; that it is (we can scarcely qualify what we are going to say) never the love of knowledge. How should it be? They learn nothing, or, what amounts very much to the same thing, nothing that they care to know. Let us he under- stood. They learn to read. Very well. They have taken bold of the great instrument of knowledge; hut how is it ap- plied? Let any one look over the books, which they read and study, and he will find a full half, which they ahsolutely cannot understand; and the other half, their own countenances will tell him, they do not wish to understand. They learn to read; and it is our boast, that of the whole mass of our population, it is rare to find an individual, who has not made this acquisition. But what evidence heyond this, we ask, does the mass of our population give, of having spent from three to eight years of life at school? What do they know of grammar, or geography, or of arithmetic, excepting two or three simple rules, which would not at any time require more than a weeks practice to make them familiar? Of the sciences, even in their simplest elements, they confessedly know nothing; and if they make no intellectual acquisition, beyond the art of read- ing, we believe it will as little be contended, that they accomplish anything of that better object of education, the forming of right mental habits, the culture of the mind for future acquisitions. We are not now accusing the people of gross ignorance; though we apprehend, that their intelligence is overrated, and that some of our boasting on this point were better spared. The truth is, we forget that our language on this subject is only comparative. When we speak of our intelligent population, we mean, that it is more intelligent than that of Europe generally; but we are apt to transfer this comparative sense of what we say, into an absolute estimate. Be it admitted, however, that the yeomanry of this country is distinguished for intelligence, and as much 1827.] Improvement of Common Sc/tools. 159 distinguished as any one desires to maintain, still we say, that nothing of this intelligence, but the instrument, is obtained at our Common Schools, that is, at the generality of them, for there are, it is true, a few honorable exceptions. Our citizens, as they come into life, gain, indeed, some general acquaintance with the statc of the world, aud with the politics of their own country; but this they gain, not from school hooks, but from newspapers. Of all that they actually know in the world, of all the habits of right reflection and conduct, by which they are guided in the pursuits of life, the schools, we say again, have furnished nothing. We have spoken now and formerly of the dulness of our schools. We consider this feature of indifference, which per- vades the mass of them, as bearing strongly on the argument we are pursuing. It is certain, that children are not learn- ing anything, or anything that can turn to much account for them, when this heavy lethargy of school dulness has settled upon them. Words may fall upon the ear, and even ideas may be crowded into the memory; but to the listless slave of his task, there will be none of those relations manifest, which constitute valuable knowledge. Nor is this listlessness inexcus- able. Human nature will always be true to itself. When a book will not sell, it is shrewdly guessed, that it is not worth buying. When the people fall asleep, it is too likely that the preacher is dull. When that most formidable assembly, the Congress, is addressed, and you perceive that nine tenths of its members are each one talking with his neighbor, or writing his letters, or rattling his newspaper, you are apt to think, that it is a great hardship to the speaker, who is delivering himself of the fruits perhaps of a whole session of study; till you find that his speech was pronounced, not for the benefit of the honorable gentle. ~en around him, but for the benefit of his own reputation among his constituents; that it was spoken not to be heard, but to be printed. And last, not least, when those, who shall yet rise to be electors, or themselves members of Congress, wear away the lingering hours in school, as if it were in a prison, and bend a deprecating or vacant eye upon the dull lesson, there is too much reason to suspect, that the lesson is not adapted to their comprehension, or certainly not to their benefit. But if there is no cause for wonder on one account, there is, at least, on another. It is truly a most extraordinary state of things. Man is, if anything, a learning animal, a creature, destined, as the very 160 Improvement of Common Schools. [Jan. end, or at least as the very process of his intellectual being, to improvement; and yet there is no business in the world so pro- verbially dull, there is none among us half so reluctantly pur- sued, as the business of learning. We hope that our observations thus far have some tendency to produce the conviction, that something needs t~ be done for our Common Schools. We have dwelt longer upon these views, because they are essential, not only to our argument, hut to every hope of improvement in the prevailing system of education. And we proceed now to say, in the next place, that in order to have better schools, we must have better teachers. There are a few schools for children, which form exceptions to the foregoing representation; and if we direct our attention to these schools, we shall discover, at once, the secret of their superiority. It is found in the superiority of the teachers. This is the sole cause; a cause indispensable, and, where it is put in operation, sufficient, and always sufficient. Materials there are for good schools in every city, villabe, and neighborhood, throughout the country. But it is only where a man, not only of superior intelligence, hut of superior talent and tact in giving instruction, fixes himself, that such a school actually ex- ists. And this is just xvhat we might expect. It requires no deep reasoning to perceive, that it is not a schoolhouse, nor a fund, nor an appropriation, nor a legislative enactment, that makes a good school. Nor will good books do it, valuable as they are. Nor will just speculations on the subject, nor a cor- rect judgment in the minds of a few, or even of the body of the community. All this will be to no purpose; all that we can say, and think, and do, and give, will avail nothing, with- out good teachers. They will be but so many means, wasted for the want of application. how, then, shall this application be made? Or, in other words, how shall well qualified teachers be obtained? This brings us, in the third place, to consider the remedy, which Mr Carter proposes. It may be taken for granted, we suppose, that there is such a deficiency to be supplied. The especial and grand reason for the faults of our schools, is the want of proper qualifications in the teachers. if any one doubts this, let him inquire of our intelligent school committees, who really discharge their duty, and he will find them with one voice, testifying to this deficiency. They accredit the applicants for the situation of instructers, in ~S27.] Improvement oJ Common Schools. 161 most cases, not because they are satisfied with them, but because they can get no better. Now we expect to be reminded, that our colleges are full of young men, who are passing through the course of education, and many of whom will be engaged for a greater or less time in the business of instr~uction. But it is forgotten in this suggestion, that all this affords no help to the Common Schools. The graduates from our colleges, almost without exception, are em- ployed in private schools; and it is a sufficient evidence, we may remark in passing, of the low estimation into which the systems of free instruction have fallen, that all, or almost all, who are able to afford it, send their children to these schools; and yet how common is it for our educated scholars, however learned and accomplished, to fail of doing anything in the busi- ness of instruction, that is at all adequate to their talents and acquisitions. Nor is this strange. To know is one thing; to teach is another. The distinction is obvious enough; and yet we agree ~vith Mr Carter in thinking, that it has not often been practi- cally made. When we are looking for a teacher, says he, we inquire how much he knows, not how much he can communicate; as if the latter qualification were of no consequence to us. Now it seems to me, that parents and children, to say the least, are as much interested in the latter qualification of their instructer as in the former. Though a teacher cannot communicate more knowledge than he possesses; yet he may possess much, and still be able to im- part but little. And the knowledge of Sir Isaac Newton could be of but trifling use to a school, while it was locked up safely in the head of a country schoolmaster. So far as the object of a school or of instruction, therefore, is the acquisition of knowl- edge, novel as the opinion may seem, it does appear to me, that both parents and pupils are even more interested in the part of their teachers knowledge, which they will be likely to get, than in the part which they certainly cannot get. One great object in the education of teachers, which it is so desirable on every account to attain, is, to establish an intelligible language of communication between the instructer and his pupil, and enable the former to open his head and his heart, and infuse into the other some of the thoughts and feelings, which lie hid there. Instructers and pupils do not understand each other. They do not speak the same language. They may use the same words; VOL. xxJV.NO. 54. 21 162 luipro cement of ~Jommon Schools. [Jan. but this can hardly be called the same language, while they at- tach to theni such very different meanings. We must either, by some magic or supernatural power, bring children at once to comprehend all our abstract and difficult terms; or our teachers must unlearn themselves, and come down to the comprehension of children. One of these alternatives is only difficult, while the other is impossible. The direct, careful preparation of instructers for the profes- sion of teaching must surmount this difficulty; and I doubt if there be any other way, in which it can be surmounted. When instructers understand their profession; that is, in a word, when they understand the philosophy of the infant mind, what powers are earliest developed, and what studies are best adapted to their developernent; then it will be time to lay out and subdivide their work into an energetic system of public instruction. Till this step towards a reform, which is preliminary in its very nature, be taken, every other measure must be adopted in the dark; and, therefore, be liable to fail utterly of its intended result. Houses and funds and books are all, indeed, important; but they are only the means of enabling the minds of the teachers to act upon the minds of the pupils. And they must, inevitably, fail of their happiest effects, till the minds of the teachers have been prepared to act upon those of their pupils to the greatest advantage. If, then, the first step towards a reform in our system of popu- lar education be the scientific preparation of teachers for the free 8chools; our next inquiry becomes, How can we soonest and most perfectly achieve an object on every account so desirable? The ready and obvious answer is, Establish an institution for the very purpose. To my mind, this seems to be the only measure, which will ensure to the public the attainment of the object. It will be called a new project. Be it so. The concession does not prove, that the project is a bad one, or a visionary, or an impracticable one. Our ancestors ventured to do what the world had never done before, in so perfect a manner, when they established the free schools. Let us also do what they have never so well done yet, and establish an institution for the exclusive purpose of pre- paring instructers for them. pp. 45, 46. The claims of such institutions on the patronage of our state governments, we reserve for a separate topic; it is in place here to speak of their intrinsic propriety. We must begin with saying, that most trite of all things, and yet least of all things understood and felt, that the office of a teacher is important. A thing that is trite, according to the etymology, is a thing worn out, and yet it became trite from its 1827.] Improvement of Common Schools. 16~3 obvious and unquestionable truth; and we are sometimes tempt- ed to think, that those great truths, which are of the most ob- vious and important character, are precisely the truths, which are least felt, and are worn out. What office under heaven can be more momentous, or more dignified, than that which takes charge of the immortal mind ? Who does not feel, that the great Fenelon, when he devoted the powers of his noble ana gifted mind to the education of the young duke of Burgundy, was adequately and worthily employed? There is but one higher place in the intellectual scale, and we hesitate not to say, it is that of the parent. The clergyman shall be allowed to magnify his office, and in a proper sense he cannot magnify it too highly. But when he addresses the people, his precept, his direction, is general. He can take no such minute care and oversight of the mind and heart, as belong to the parent and teacher. We join these together, for the office of the teacher, so far as the intellect is concerned, is essentially paren- tal. He is guiding minds, which must suffer or enjoy an un- known amount, throughout an unknown extent of time, from his influence; and he, who takes upon himself such a respon- sibility, and yet feels no anxiety for his qualifications, is fit for nothing, but to sit in the magisterial chair, and hold a ferule in his hand; and then, the subjects on which he operates ought to be literal stocks and stones. And now the question occurs, Is it too much for a man, who is to discharge the most responsible duty of instructing our youth, to devote a little time to acquiring the necessary qualifications; a little time, we say, to this specific object? If there is no pro- fession nor pursuit in life, which does not demand a considerable time to be spent in preparation for it; if a man cannot be a weaver or a blacksmith, if he cannot make wooden tubs, or manu- facture cart ropes, without serving years of apprenticeship, shall he venture to mould the habits of the mind, and weave the fab- ric of intellect, and guide all the subtil machinery of the human soul, not only xvithout an equal, but without any previous atten- tion? This is the only service, says Mr Carter, in which we venture to employ young, and often, ignorant persons, without some pre- vious instruction in their appropriate duties. We require experi- ence in all those, whom we employ to perform the slightest mechan- icnl labor for us. We would not buy a coat nor a hat of one, who should undertake to make them without a previous apprentice- 164 Iuiprovemeai of Common Schools. [Jan. ship. Nor would any one have the hardihood to offer to us the result of his first essay in manufacturing either of these articles. We do not even send an old shoe to be mended, except it he to a workman of whose skill we have had ample proof. Yet we com- mit our children to be educated to those, who know nothing, ab- solutely nothing, of the complicated and difficult duties assigned to them. Shall we trust the developement of the delicate bodies1 the susceptible hearts, and the tender minds of our little children to those who have no knowledge of their nature? Can they, can these rude hands finish the workmanship of the Almighty? No language can express the astonishment, which a moments reflec- tion on this subject excites in me. p. 36. The principle of a division of labor is well understood in the mechanic arts; it applies with double force to the case before us. It is applied indeed to several departments of intellectual exertion. There are schools for the education of the clergy, of lawyers, and physicians. Why should there not be schools for teachers of youth? There are special qualifications requir- ed for this profession, qualifications as peculiar and specific, as for any other of the learned professions. On this point Mr Carter shall again speak for us. After some remarks on the importance of gymnastic exercises in our schools, a branch of education, which we rejoice to see rising into notice, he proceeds; The philosophy of the infant mind must be understood by the instructer, before much progress can be made in the science of education; for a principal branch of the science consists in form- ing the mind. And the skill of the teacher in this department is chiefly to be seen in his judicious adaptation of means to the de- velopement of the intellectual faculties. The human heart, the philosophy of its passions and its affec- tions must be studied by those who expect to influence those pas- sions and form those affections. This branch of the subject includes the government of children, especially in the earliest stages of their discipline. The success of the teacher here de- pends upon the good judgment with which he arranges and pre- sents to his pupils the motives that will soonest move them, and most permanently influence their actions. The mistaken or wicked principles of parents and instructers, in this department of education, have no doubt, perverted the dispositions of many hopeful children. If successful experience has been recorded, it should be brought to the assistence of those, who must otherwise act without experience. Lastly, the study of the philosophy of language would be es- ~ential to the scientific teacher. The term, language, is not here 1827.] Improvement of Common Schools. 165 understood to mean a class of words called Greek, or another class of words called Latin, or even that class of words which we call English. It means something more general, and something which can hardly be defined. It embraces all the means we use to excite in the minds of others the ideas, which we have already in our own minds. These, whatever they are, are included in the general definition of language. This is a great desideratum iii our systems of education, We do not possess a language by which we can produce precisely the idea in a pupil, which we have in our own mind, and which we wish to excite in his. And impatient and precipitate teachers quite [?] often quarrel with their pupils, because they do not arrive at the same conclusions with themselves, when, if they could but look into their minds, they would find, that the ideas with which they begin to reason, or which enter into their processes of reasoning, are altogether dif- ferent. pp. 51, 52. We cannot close this part of our subject, without introducing another extract from the Essays, for the sake of adverting to what we consider to be a very happy feature in the proposed institution. It relates to the connexion in this school between those who are merely pupils, with only the general objects of education before them, and those who propose to become teachers of others. After the young candidate for an instructer, therefore, has acquired sufficient knowledge for directing those exercises and teaching those branches, which he wishes to profess, he must then begin his labors under the scrutinizing eyes of one who will note his mistakes of government and faults of instruction, and correct them. The experienced and skilful professor of the science will observe how the mind of the young teacher acts upon that of the learner. He will see how far and how perfectly they understand each other, and which is at fault if they do not understand each other at all. If the more inexperienced teacher should attempt to force upon the mind of a child an idea or a process of reason- ing, for which it was not in a proper state, he would be checked, at once, and told of his fault; and thus, perhaps, the pupil would be spared a disgust for a particular study or an aversion to all study. As our earliest experience would in this manner be under the direction of those wiser than ourselves, it would the more easily be classed under general principles for our direction after- wards. p. 54. For a more full exhibition of the plan of this Institution, we must refer our readers to the pamphlet itself. We are happy to perceive, that Mr Carter has it in view to establish such a 166 Impruvement of Common Schools. [Jan seminary, even though he should be left to undertake it on his own private responsibility. But we trust that so good a cause will not be suffered to impose its whole burden on indi- vidual risk and effort. We do most respectfully, but most earnestly, commend it to the patronage of the Government of Massachusetts. We understand that the attention of the State oi New York is likely to be drawn to the same subject. And writing, as we do, for our patrons in every State in the Union, we beg leave, to propose this as a matter for general considera- tion. Our remarks will necessarily have as much application to one part of the country as another. It has always been the policy of free governments to foster education. This has been constantly proclaimed, as eminently the policy of our own. And something we have done. We have endowed colleges. But these institutions, invaluable as they are, and absolutely indispensable to the education of men for civil offices, and for the learned professions, have yet but an indirect influence upon the mass of our population. it is possi- ble, we know, for the most learned and splendidly endowed uni- versities to exist in the n7lidst of a people ignorant and degraded. We shall not be suspected of saying anything against colleges and universities. Let them be cherished, and watched over, ay, and searched into, and let the tone of education in them be raised to the highest point. But if it is laudable to do so much to elevate the standard of liberal scholarship, it would seem to commend itself to the feelings of a free people, as rea- sonable, that something should be done to raise the character of our common schools. An institution for the education of teach- ers, to be employed in these schools, would be emphatically the peoples institution. Such a seminary would be most consonant with the genius of our political condition. Besides, some of our State governments yield their patronage to free schools, and a most bountiful pationage. They l)ut it in the power of a majority in the several townships to vote the appro- priation of monies to any extent, and to enforce the collection of taxes thus assessed. And the majority is safely entrusted with its power, to give or withhold according to its pleasure, be- cause it is impelled by the desire of having schools on the one hand, and on the other, held in check by the reluctance to tax itself. So that there seldom fails to be an appropriation in every township, though not an extravagant one. And yet, although these appropriations are not extravagant, they rise in the ag~re 1827.] Improvement of Common Schools. 167 gate to a great amount. The country is really at a vast expense of means for the support of schools, and it is at this expense by direction of the government, just as much as if it were paid at once out of the public treasury. It may, therefore, fairly be put to the common sense and prudence of our legislatures, whether they will suffer these means, thus accumulated, to be wasted, or to fail of their frill and proper effect? Shall we build school houses, and purchase books, and collect large sums of money, and stop here, and leave undone the very thing that is to give efficacy to all the rest? Shall we rear a system of machinery, with great labor and care, without attention to the very power, by which it is to work with energy and .effect? For we aver, and repeat, that the intelligence of the teachers is the power, the vital principle, the main spring in our school estab- lishments. And this intelligence, moreover, cannot be had without aid from the government. This is a very material point, and it may easily be made a clear one. The requisite intelligence, it is manifest, is yet to be created. It does not exist; or it exists only in those, who can afford to be idle, or are more pro- fitably employed, and will yield us no aid in this business. How then can it be created? How shall young men be induced to come forward and prepare Lhemselves for the business of teaching? We answer, only by a helping hand being stretched out to them. They cannot afford to be at the whole expense of the undertaking; the compensation offered in our common schools will not warrant it. The teachers of these schools in general are, during a portion of the year, otherwise engaged. They cannot leave their employments, lose their time, and pay all their expenses at the proposed Institution besides. They will do something; but they cannot do every thing. They have an ambition, many of them, to learn. Some of them, doubtless, are sensible of their incapacity. Some of them, if properly aided, will go to a seminary opened for their benefit. And when they return, they will show at once, in one winter or sum- nier, the great advantages of such a training. Others will fol- low them. The standard of qualifications for teaching will be raised. The character of the schools will be raised. The character of the community will as certainly be raised; and the blessing of such an institution will be incalculable. It will be the blessing of many generations.~ It is the duty, it is the especial province, and it is the glory of a 168 Improvement of Common Schools. [Jan. truly republican, which ought to be a truly parental government, to watch over the youth and children, committed to its charge. No one can fail to be struck with the declaration, concerning Lycurgus, that he resolved the uhole business of legislation into the bringing up of youth. We are tempted to plead the rights of this portion of our population; for rights they have, though in our republican wisdom or pride, we seem to imagine, that these belong only to all males over twentyone years of age. We confess, that we feel some pity for the little communities, that are gathered in our schools, whose parts are assigned them, often with as little consideration, as if they were the machinery of a cotton factory, shut up to buzz, and chafe, and wear away the appointed hours, hut whose restlessness and chafing turn to far less account. We cannot but feel some sympathy with this inexpressible reluctance of many a child to go to school, and are but half indignant enough at the naughty truant. We suppose that he makes as fair a calculation as many of his seniors, and judges, that it is better to receive a chastisement at home in the evening, than to suffer torture all day at school. Do we overrate the evils, which are regularly and systemati- cally inflicted on the mass of the rising generation? We are not again going over the ground, to which this question would lead us. But we confidently appeal to all, who know anything about it. We are for ourselves satisfied, that where all extra- neous matters of interest are left out of sight, where the simple question is between loving the school for its own sake, or not loving it, the entire majority of children in our common schools, under twelve or fourteen years of age, is decidedly averse to the discipline of learning. And we cannot conceive of a more miserable system of mismanagement than that, which brings about such a result. We never saw one of these reluctant pu- pils, not the dullest of them, whose eye would not kindle, and whose whole countenance would not brighten with joy, if you would clearly present to him one new and intelligible idea. And it is because their reasoning nature is overlooked, and they are set to mumble over the unmeaning sounds of an unintelligi- ble lesson, it is for this reason, that the very idea of learning with many has become odious, and every familiar word of the school room is habitually associated with everything dull and wearisome. We would not willingly be thought extravagant; but we cannot consent Lo be judged by those. whom our own 1827.] Cardozos Notes on Political Economy. 169 poor reflections have led to their first thoughts of this interest- ing subject. We are not fully satisfied, we confess, with the usual manner in which any body of human beings has been treated, or with the improvement and happiness to which any community has attained. From the spirit of this age, and the advantages of this country combined, we are looking for better results, than have yet appeared. Mr Owen will not accomplish them for us, nor will any enthusiast, however much more generous and phil.. anthropic, or less vain and shortsighted. No schemer nor em- piric will bring forward the great destiny which is before us, but it will be slowly and gradually wrought out, by principles already in operation. It will be wrought out l~y the consenting inquiries, and purposes, and endeavors of the whole people; but the grand lever, which is to raise up the mighty mass of this community, is education. We forget not the power of a free press, so often denominated the palladium our liberties, we for- get not our excellent form of government, we forget not the in- stitutions of religion, but all these are to take their character from the intelligence of the people. The empire of these States must rise or fall with the mind. The schools hold, in embryo, the future communities of this land. The schools are the pillars of the republic. To these, let the strong arm of the government be stretched out. Over these, let the wisdom of our legislatures watch. Let not the needful scrutiny and sup- port be withheld, lest their very foundations silently moulder away, and the fabric of empire sink in their ruins. ART XI.Notes on Political Economy. By J. N. CARDOZO. 1826. Svo. pp. 125. Charleston. THE short treatise, to xvhich the above unassuming title is given, was written by a gentleman, who has evidently made him- self f~tmiliar with the doctrines of what is called the new school of Political Economy. His object is to examine a few of those doctrines, show their consequences, and trace out the fallacy of the argument on which they are founded. For this reason, if for no other, it will be generally sought for by the true lovors of VOL. XXLV.NO. 54. 22

1827.] Cardozos Notes on Political Economy. 169 poor reflections have led to their first thoughts of this interest- ing subject. We are not fully satisfied, we confess, with the usual manner in which any body of human beings has been treated, or with the improvement and happiness to which any community has attained. From the spirit of this age, and the advantages of this country combined, we are looking for better results, than have yet appeared. Mr Owen will not accomplish them for us, nor will any enthusiast, however much more generous and phil.. anthropic, or less vain and shortsighted. No schemer nor em- piric will bring forward the great destiny which is before us, but it will be slowly and gradually wrought out, by principles already in operation. It will be wrought out l~y the consenting inquiries, and purposes, and endeavors of the whole people; but the grand lever, which is to raise up the mighty mass of this community, is education. We forget not the power of a free press, so often denominated the palladium our liberties, we for- get not our excellent form of government, we forget not the in- stitutions of religion, but all these are to take their character from the intelligence of the people. The empire of these States must rise or fall with the mind. The schools hold, in embryo, the future communities of this land. The schools are the pillars of the republic. To these, let the strong arm of the government be stretched out. Over these, let the wisdom of our legislatures watch. Let not the needful scrutiny and sup- port be withheld, lest their very foundations silently moulder away, and the fabric of empire sink in their ruins. ART XI.Notes on Political Economy. By J. N. CARDOZO. 1826. Svo. pp. 125. Charleston. THE short treatise, to xvhich the above unassuming title is given, was written by a gentleman, who has evidently made him- self f~tmiliar with the doctrines of what is called the new school of Political Economy. His object is to examine a few of those doctrines, show their consequences, and trace out the fallacy of the argument on which they are founded. For this reason, if for no other, it will be generally sought for by the true lovors of VOL. XXLV.NO. 54. 22 70 Gardozos JVotes on Political Economy. [Jait the science. It is desirable, that some writer of talents should undertake the task, on a far more extended scale than Mr Car- dozo has done; give us a brief outline of the peculiarities in the new school; contrast them, where it is possible, with those of the old; state succinctly the arguments urged on both sides of the question; and make such reflections on the growth of this branch of knowledge, as must naturally be suggested by the inquiry. Such an undertaking would demand a good deal of re- search, examination, thought; something more, in short, to be well executed, than a modest attempt at Notes. Mr Cardozo does not approach the most important questions; and with many of the conclusions at which he arrives, we can- not agree, although much interested in the discussion, by which he was led to them. In our own country, inquiries upon the va- rious branches of political economy are of far more importance, than in many others, because every citizen here may he called upon to serve as a legislator; and to think of assuming the res- ponsibility of that high station, without some examination of the basis on which it ought to rest, or some study of the principles, by which alone it can be made to act beneficially, or not injurious- ly, on the general interests of society, must be, to say the least, presumptuous. The knowledge of this science is, indeed, not commonly deemed of such utility; and, what is remarkable, it seldom forms any part of the popular or recommendatory quali- fications of the candidate for high political office. For these reasons and others, there ought to be some arrangement for making it more universally a branch of common education; and the writer renders a good service, who calls public attention to any of the controversies connected with it, in a condensed form, like the one before us. There are some doctrines among the late writers on the sub- ject particularly, which, though they have been thoroughly re- futed, and for that reason probably are passed unnoticed by Mr Cardozo, may have a tendency so injurious, that they cannot be too much pressed upon our examination, and shown to be ut- terly false. The possibility, that machinery may be too far improve4; that the saving of labor may thus become excessive; that, in consequence of it, honest industry may be thrown out of employment, and condemned to suffer for the benefit of the rich capitalist, are among the number of them. And to teach principles, which involve these doctrines, as has been done by some very able writers, is to call science in aid of popular pre 1827.1 Cardozos Notes on Political Economy. I judice. Mr Cardozo does not think it necessary to reexamine them. His inquiries are, generally, into subjects more apart from common observation, and therefore less interesting, and probably less iml)ortant, than those we have mentioned. They are subjects, however, which have called forth the attention of the most acute and intelligent writers. One of the principal objects of the authors Notes (and, on reading the introduction to them, we thought it was to be almost their sole object) is to refute Ricardos Theory of Rents, which Mr Cardozo thinks is full of errors, and must lead to very tin- reasonable or absurd results. We cannot entirely agree with the objections here raised against that distinguished writer, al- though he has certainly made some mistakes, in his chapter on this subject. He ascribes the rise of raw produce, and of rents, to the necessity of resorting to inferior soils, and the increased difficulty of production. When land of an inferior quality, says Ricardo, is taken into cultivation, the exchangeable value of raw produce will rise, because more labor is required to pro- duce it. The reason why raw produce rises in comparative value, is because more labor is employed in the production of the best portion obtained. When, in the progress of society, land of the second degree of fertility is taken into cultivation, rent immediately commences on that of the first quality, and the amount of that rent will depend on the difference in the quality of these two portions of land. There is a slight inaccuracy in in all these statements. Raw produce would rise, and rents would also rise, even if the less fertile lands were prevented in any way from being brought under cultivation. In fact, the cultiva- tion of these less fertile lands will, in some measure, keep the price of rents and produce down, because they furnish a partial supply, and thus make the demand less intense, than otherwise it must become in consequence of the greater scarcity. suppose a country of very limited extent, where the lands, though un- equal, were all rich, and highly cultivated, and where none of an inferior quality could be brought forward. Suppose, that on the increase of population, produce should rise and become very high, so high, that the profits of capital invested in agriculture would he much greater, than of that invested in commerce, or manufacture, or other employments; it is evident, that these lands must pay rent, and the rent will be just so much, as to reduce the profits of capital invested in agriculture to a level with the profits of that invested in any other way. Raw produce first 172 Cardozos Motes on Political L~conomy. [Jan~ rises in price. Then rents will rise, because the returns of capital invested in agriculture are greater, than if invested else- where, and the landlords will make the capitalists pay for this advantage. It is not till the third or last step, and as a conse- quence of the two former, that new and less fertile lands are cultivated, or that new capital is employed upon the old lands with a greater return of profits. Mr Ricardo, however, goes upon the idea, that rents will not rise till new lands are actually taken into cultivation, or till a further amount of capital has been actually employed upon the old lands, and with a greater return of profits. This is clearly a mistake. Mr Ricardo, likewise, does not always point out clearly the true objects of his inquiry. In a treatise on this subject, three topics ought to be kept entirely separate; first, The nature of rent, or what it is; secondly, The origin of rent, or what first produced it; and, thirdly, The measure of rent, or the proper rule for estimating its just amount. Mr Ricardo must have seen these clearly enough ; but he makes no such classification, and evidently confounds them throughout the whole of his in- quiry. Will not this cousideration help to explain away the following remarks of our author? The rent of land has been variously defined by Mr Ricardo in different parts of his work on the Principles of Political Econ- omy and Taxation, It is defined, first, to be that portion of the produce of the earth, which is paid to the landlord for the use of the original and indestructible powers of the soil. Rent, according to this definition, is made to depend on natural fertili- ty. But the definition given of rent by Mr Malthus, to wit, that excess of price above the costs of production at which raw produce sells in the market, is sanctioned by Mr Ricardo. This definition is, however, essentially different from the other, and confounds that rent, which is paid for the use of the original and indestructible powers of the soil, with that paid in conse- quence of the advance in the price of raw produce from restric- tions on the trade in corn, and the monopoly which in some countries is connected with the possession of land. The origin of rent is described in the following manner by Mr Ricardo. It is then only because land is of different quali- ties, with respect to its productive powers, and because in the progress of population, land, of an inferior quality, or less advan- tageously situated, is called into cultivation, that rent is ever paid for the use of it. Rent is accounted for in this description from relative fertility. pp. 19, 20. 1827.] Cardozos Notes on Political Economy. 173 But our author cannot escape from the general reasonings and conclusions of Ricardo, in this ingenious theory, although he makes a great effort to do it; and we are riot surprised that he has failed, for results from it can be traced very different from those, which he seems to anticipate. The following is a brief outline of the theory. On the first settlement of a new country, where rich lands are in abundance, no rent is paid, because all may enjoy them freely, and without making co mpen- sation. But in a short period, the produce of these will not be sufficient to furnish the necessary supply. Population has in- creased; the food of the laborer, and produce generally, are in greater demand. They rise in price; new and less fertile lands must be taken into cultivation; thus rent is paid on the best, but not on those of the inferior quality, which are occupied; for by the supposition these are so plenty, that all may use them without remuneration. It cannot be long, however, before the produce of these also will be insufficient to meet the full demand. Lands of the third quality are called for; then again rents rise on the first, and are paid on the second, but not on the last, on account of their plenty; and so the process goes on continually, as long as the country continues to advance in wealth. Mr Ricardo briefly states his views on the subject thus. If all land had the same properties, if it were boundless in quantity, and uniform in quality, no charge could be made for its use, unless where it possessed peculiar advantages of situation. It is only then because land is of different qualities, with respect to its productive powers, and because in the progress of popula- tion, land of an inferior quality, or less advantageously situated, is called into cultivation, that rent is ever paid for the use of it. When, in the progress of society, land of the second degree of fertility is taken into cultivation, rent immediately commences on that of the first quality, and the amount of that rent will depend on the difference in the quality of these two portions of land. Ricardo, pp. 38, 39. The inferences to be drawn from reasoning on the above theory of Mr Ricardo are; that rents make no part of the price of produce, because the price is determined by the labor bestowed upon the lands last taken into cultivation, which, by the supposition, can afford no rent; and that, by the advance of rents, landlords, as he says, are doubly benefited; they are benefited in the amount, and in the exchangeable value of what they receive. Mr Cardozo says, this last idea is inconceivable. 174 Cctrdozos Notes on Political Economy. [Jait We know not why. The supply must have increased; the de- mand must also have increased in a still greater proportion. From the first cause, therefore, the landlord will receive a larger share of the produce for his rent, and from the second cause, this produce will be of a greater l)rice or value; that is, the same portion of it will be worth more in the market, than it was before. But we would ask, says our author, what is to entitle the landlord to an increased share of the whole produce, if an in- crease of the whole has been effected by the skill and capital of the cultivators? If the landlord has furnished any of the capital by which this hicrease has been obtained, his share will be in proportion to his investment; if he gets a greater share, it will be a transfer of a portion of that to which the farmers are en- titled from their capital and skill. As extended cultivation, there- fore, if it has been effected by cultivators without any aid from landlords, is the result of their own improvements, the whole of the increased l)roduce arising from this extension of cultivation, is their exclusive property. There can, therefore, of right, be no increase of rent from the increased quantity of produce. pp. 21, 22. Might the author not as well ask, what right has the heir to the property, which he inherits? A merchant or manufacturer chances to have a great stock of goods on hand, which suddenly rise in price; would it be fair to interrogate him about his being entitled to the increased value? We are driven back to the original institution of property to answer such questions as these. The landlord must have run some risk in the investment of his capital. Perhaps it will be a most unproductive one; many circumstances may occur, as we shall presently see, which will transfer the rise of rents into other hands, or make it so slow in his hands, that he could have placed his capital more profita- bly in any other employment. If he be successful, we surely ought not to ask him about his right and title to his good for- tune. All lands, which pay rent, have something more or less of the nature of monopoly. Different situations, different degrees of fel7tility, remoteness from the market, or nearness to it, these, and other circumstances, render it impossible for them to come into any competition with each other on equal terms. This fact is most remarkable in great commercial places, where the hold- ers of convenient stands for business have greatly the advantage 1827] Gardozos Notes on Political Economy. 175 over those in other situations, and they are obliged to pay for it in the form of rent. The same is true, likewise, though less obviously so, of cultivated lands remote or near, and of various degrees of fertility or improvement. The equalizing principle of rent, so clearly explained by Mr Ricardo, will place all capital- ists and tenants, who are in the occupancy of spots thus more or less favorable, upon nearly the same level, and enable them to come into fair competition with each other in their employ- ments, which otherwise would be impossible. We can easily thus ascertain what will be the true measure of rents. Those of the favorable stands for business, in a large and populous city, cannot be estimated with any exactness, because they must de- pend on the greater profits, which those places will throw into the hands of the tenants, who occupy them. But the fair rents of cultivated lands may be very clearly ascertained. The agriculturist must retain enough of the produce to pay himself for the wages, which he has employed or bestowed upon them, and enough likewise for a reasonable return of profit upon the capital invested by him; all the residue, whether it bG more or less, ought to go to the landlord for rent, or the tenant will have an undue advantage over those in similar situations with himself, and perhaps, too, over capitalists generally. The rent of a particular piece of cultivated land, is, in short, the difference between the amount of its produce, and the amount of produce from an equal quantity of the poorest lands, which can however be profitably cultivated. These remarks will show, that rent can in no case be assimilated, as Mr Cardozo thinks, to the interest on a loan of capital. j~ands rented are essentially different from capital let, because the former are always une- qual, while the same amount of the latter must be always equal. It is not till after the payment of rent, that any similarity exists between them. But Mr Cardozo thinks, if this celebrated theory be true, rents will so encroach on wages and profits, that the accumula- tion of capital will be stopped, and population receive a fatal check at no distant period of time. And certainly the exact mathematical calculation, in which 1~Ir Ricardo expresses his ideas on this subject, will lead many readers to the same erro- neous conclusion. Mathematics are as deceptive in moral rea- sonings, as probabilities are in mathematics. The shades of difference between different kinds of land are faint, almost imper- ceptible? and not to bG marked by numbers. Fluxional quantities 176 Cardozos Yotes on Political Econom~i. [Jan. might more justly illustrate them, than the arithmetical progression, which Mr Ricardo uses. Let it be understood, however, that he uses it merely as an illustration of his principle. At any rate, the rise on the rents of cultivated lands is exceedingly slow. Many circumstances will occur to retard or change it. The ef- fects of science in improving the art of cultivating lands, the improvement in the tools and machinery of agriculture, and sev- eral other causes, not at all inconsistent with this theory, as our author seems to think they are, will tend to keep down the price of produce and of rents longer than this simple statement of Mr Ricardo would lead one to anticipate. A farm will pass through several hands without any sensible addition to its value. Even when new lands are necessarily taken into cultivation, though they seem of an inferior quality, the great expense is often in the first outlay, in clearing, reducing, and bringing them to a state of improvement suitable for being occupied, and then perhaps they may be among the most fertile and productive. A new market may be thrown open in the vicinity. A near manu- factory may raise its value. Many other circumstances may also occur, which will create a full demand for its produce, and thus raise its rent, or depress the rent of those, which were for- inerly thought the richest and most profitable. There can be little danger, that the increase of rent, advancing according to the principles of Mr Ricardos theory, rightly understood, ever can become in any degree excessive. From these reflections may also be deduced an answer to another objection of our author, against this theory of rents, namely, that it makes agriculture, including the landlords advan- tages, the most profitable of all employments. Nothing can be more erroneous than this idea. It goes upon the supposition, that . by the theory the purchaser of land takes no risk in thus investing his capital, that his profits are rapid and sure, not liable to fluc- tuation, change, or successful competition from the cultivators of new soils; none of which inferences are fairly deducible from the reasoning of Mr Ricardo, if they he carefully examined. Every body has heard of most unprofitable agricultural specu- lations. But this will not weaken the general conclusions in the theory of rents, for the reasons before given. Capital naturally seeks the most advantageous employment. When, from the competition of rival adventurers, the profits of stock shall have become small and doubtful, in commerce, manufacture, and other departments of industry, we may expect more to arise 1S27.] Cardozos Notes on Political Economy. 177 from agriculture than at present; and this will probably be the case at no very distant period. It is a very common mistake among writers on this subject to suppose, that the rise of produce is the first and sole cause of the fall of profits. These would fall, however, for a variety of reasons, although produce re- mained unchanged. In our remarks thus far, we have spoken of the rise in the price of produce. It may be, however, only a fall in the price of every other article; which amounts to precisely the same thing. All rise is comparative. Commodities rise merely because they will command more. There may be, in conse- quence of improvements in agriculture, a much greater supply of produce even in proportion to the demand than formerly; but the supply of other commodities, with which that produce is exchanged, and which measure its value, may be in still greater proportion; it will therefore command a larger portion of those, and for this reason, and this reason alone, it seems to rise in price. Smith speaks of the stationary nature of corn rents. It is difficult to tell, however, whether they are in fact stationary. For the reasons we have given they may have risen or have fallen materially. If tried by the labor which they command, and which is the best measure of value through long periods of time, they cannot have varied much. But there is some uncertainty about this, because the condition of the la- borer, his food, habits, conveniences, and expectations are sub- ject to such essential changes. We look upon the rise of rent, which our author seems so much to dread, as the decisive proof, that a country is advancing rapidly in opulence. Observe any great commercial place, where there is a press of husiness and a crowd of population, and where there are vast amounts of capital accumulated. These are the causes of the high price of rents there, and they will not begin to fall until profits fall, business ceases to he flour- ishing, and the accumulation of wealth is checked. The same is observable, for similar reasons, of lands in every situation. It is true that while the country is still advancing, vents may in some places be stationary and even fall, but it is on account of their greater rise in other portions of it. Mr Cardozo thinks, too, that they are made unnaturally high, by the laws which en- cumber the titles to real estates, and make the transfer of them difficult and unsafe. We do not agree with him on this point. These restrictions have an opposite tendency, and make the VOL. xXIV.NO. 54. 23 178 Gardozos JVotes on Political Economy. [Jaii. price of rents in some cases improperly low, and more in danger of that extreme than of the other. if the law could free lands from embarrassing questions about title, and render the transfer of them as simple and easy, as the transfer of per- sonal property, they would be likely to fall into the hands of those, who could most profitably use them, or turn them to the best account in the hands of others. The landlord never can find it for his interest to charge his tenant too much, because he will make the tenants business unprofitable, and thus ultimately reduce his own rents. He ought not to charge the tenant too little, because this is giving him an unfair and useless advantage over others in similar situations. it is in the nice calculation of asking of the tenant just so much, and no more than he can profitably afford to pay, that the true secret of assessing rent lies. Now who can make this nice and just calculation most advantageously to themselves, great landlords, who are obliged to keep possession of their estates whether they like it or not, or those who purchase in order to vest their capital productively, and who study to employ it so as to receive the greatest possible returns from it? There would, it is true, be a less number of large farm rents in the country, than before the restrictions were taken off, but the sum of the smaller ones must amount to vastly more than those; and, besides, they would be more accurately looked after and carefully paid. The inferences deducible from this theory of rents seem to us very important. One of them is, that rents affect neither the wages of labor nor the profits of stock, and enter not into prices. We do not think this appears very clearly in Mr Ricardos chap- ter on the subject, though it evidently must follow from his rca- sonings; and it was the object of our remarks upon some of his inaccuracies, to make it more plain. Produce, we have seen, first rises in price. Then, and not till then, do rents rise. It is evident, therefore, that the former cannot be enhanced by the latter, since it must take place before rents can be changed or affected. But it is often believed that rents do in reality make the heaviest part of prices. Landlords are sometimes repre- sented as growing rich, and living idly and luxuriously by means of taxes indirectly levied upon the wages of the laborer, or upon the capital, which honest industry or enterprise has ac- cumulated. But if they were to give up to their tenants all their rents, it could have no effect in reducing the prices of pro- ~luce, because it would neither increase the supply nor diminish 1827.] Cardozos Notes on Political Economy. 179 the demand. There would be the same quantity in the market, the same number of sellers, the same number of consumers. The only result of such an injudicious act of generosity on the part of landlords would be, to introduce the greatest inequality among capitalists, and into employments of all sorts, and thus lead to a state of confusion and disorder such as we cannot easily describe. It appears more clearly, too, by this theory, that, in the natural course of things, that class of people, who are the most uniformly interested in their countrys welfare, are sure, without peculiar efforts of their own to advance in opulence, as their country advances in opulence, and nearly in the same propor- tion. The prosperity of the landholder is justly represented by Smith as always in unison with the general prosperity of society. It is difficult to conceive of any great public or private improve. ment, which will not directly or indirectly benefit him. His success depends entirely upon the success of every class of peo- ple around him; while their interests, though never at variance with his, are frequently at variance with each other, and not un- frequently so with those of a great majority of the community to which they belong. He holds, too, an indissoluble interest; but citizens in other situations, merchants, or capitalists, who find that profits have fallen, because competition has been wide- ly extended, may transfer themselves and their property to other places, where they expect to reap greater advantage, it is not without a very good reason, that the old English law, which has come to us, looks with an eye of peculiar favor on freeholders and yeomen. In these remarks on rents, we have 6bserved no difference between those of cultivated or farm lands, and those of lands in places crowded with population; and writers on the subject gen- erally seem to pass it by unnoticed. It was not necessary for us to point to this distinction. The character of monopoly be- longs more plainly and strongly, though not more justly, to the latter than to the former. But the same principles belong to both, and the same general reasoning, which we have applied to the one, will, with a slight difference of phraseology, be found equally applicable to the other. Mr Cardozo is much more successful in some other strictures on Ricardo, and exposes one error, in particular, which has been copied, and implicitly acquiesced in, by Mr Malthus, and which we are now surprised could have so long remained unno- ticed. That ingenious writer, in his great work on the Princi 180 L~ardozos .Aotes on Political Economy. EJan. pies of Political Economy and Taxation, employs a whole chapter in drawing distinctions between the riches and the values of a country, and seems to think that the former may be indefi- nitely changed, increased, or diminished, while the amount of the latter remains unaltered. This is clearly an error. The following passage from Mr Ricardo contains, in brief, the argu- ment by which that position is maintained. If an improved piece of machinery should enable us to make two pair of stockings, instead of one, without additional labor, double the quantity would be given in exchange for a yard of cloth. If a similar improvement be made in the manufacture of cloth, stockings and cloth will exchange in the same proportions as before, but they will both have fallen in value; for in exchang- ing them for hats, for gold, or other commodities in general, twice the former quantity must be given. Extend the improvement to the production of gold, and every other commodity; and they will all regain their former proportions. There will be double the quantity of commodities annually produced in the country, and therefore the wealth of the country will be doubled, but this wealth will not have increased in value. Ricardo, p. 288. It is very easy to see through the fallacy of this reasoning. The exchangeable value of the article, the production of which is thus made more easy, must, it is certain, be diminished; that is, the same quantity of it will not command the same quantity of other articles in the market, that it had been used to do before. Perhaps we might go farther, and admit that the ex- changeable value of the whole amount of the article, so cheap- ened in price, has been diminished, though this is hardly possi- ble. Admit it, however, for the sake of the argument. In the mean time, while the exchangeable value of this cheapened arti- cle is thus diminished, the exchangeable value of every other article, when compared with it, must be in the same proportion increased. Observe the remark in the last period of our last extract. Our inference from it would be, that the sum total of the exchangeable values was doubled; the whole of every com- modity will con~mand just double the quantity of every other com- modity that it formerly would. In these reasonings both Mr Ricardo and ourselves have reference merely to the internal exchanges, which may take place in the same country, and to the exclusion of those arising from foreign commerce. Our author supposes him to have been led into the above mistake, by confounding value with price. But this explanation will not do, because the real price of an article must be the same as its exchangeable value. And we 1827.] Gardoz& s Notes on Political Economy. 181 think it impossible that Mr Ricardo can have confounded it with the nominal, or money price, since in another part of his work he gives us his reasons very fully, for estimating the value of a commodity by the amount of labor necessary to be expended in its production. This, in fact, will serve as an explanation of the whole difficulty. The values he supposes to remain the same, because they have cost no more labor. It is an error of reasoning, and not merely of a use of words, with which we are obliged to charge Mr Ricardo. The distinction between wealth, or riches, and value seems to us very simple; yet it has been the ground of much discus- sion, and led to many mistakes. Take, for example, the follow- ing remarks, which are intended for a definition of the term wealth, by Mr J. B. Say,, the most popular, and perhaps the most able writer on political economy, since the time of Smith. If we take the pains to inquire, what that is, which mankind in a social state of existence denominate wealth, we shall find the term employed to designate an indefinite quantity of objects bear- ing inherent value, as of land, of metal, of coin, of grain, of stuffs, of commodities of every description. When they further extend its signification to landed securities, bills, notes of hand, and the like, it is evidently because they contain obligations to deliver things possessed of inherent value. In point of fact, wealth can only exist where there are things possessed of real and intrinsic value. Wealth is proportionate to the quantum of that value; great, when the aggregate of component value is great; small, when that aggregate is small. Say, p. 1. Even the most superficial reader will see this to he an error. The intrinsic value of some things, of water, for instance, may be very great, thou0h they are seldom to be ranked among articles of wealth, a~d many, which are so ranked, and highly, have in them little intrinsic value. The wealth, too, contained in some commodities, may continually vary, either increase or diminish, while their intrinsic value remains unchanged. It ap- pears to us, that under the term wealth we class together those objects only, which have exchangeable value, whether they are usePd or not, and that their wealth is just in proportion to this exchangeable value, without reference to their utility or to any other inherent quality whatever. If exchangeable value be given to the most common things, they become articles of wealth; if it be subtracted from even the richest, they cease to he so esteemed. N remarkable proof of this occiurs in the example just cited, of 1~2 (Jardozos Notes on Political Economy. [Jan. water, which in some places, in cases of great scarcity, has had a high exchangeable value, and then the possession of large quantities of it may have been wealth, but it is never thought such in common cases, because from its plenty it has no ex- changeable value. It is said, however, that we are not to apply the term to notes, paper money, securities, & c. And why not? The owner of a warehouse full of raw produce, or of a chest of massive gold, or of coffers of metallic money, will find them of little service to him beyond their exchangeable value; and if the holder of a bank note, or bill of exchange, finds it possessed of the same extensive power, we know not why he may not give it as high a title. Let it be observed, that we are now insisting on what we take to be the common use of language. Perhaps it might have been more judiciously appropriated at first. But we have no right to limit it to suit our own ideas on the subject; and we cannot doubt that it is commonly, and, indeed, universal- ly used, as we have explained it. We have room to touch slightly upon one other theme sug- gested by our author, in the discussion of which he seems to have fallen into a singular mistake. He represents a paper currency in all its forms, and with every convenient limit and restrict