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The United States Democratic review. / Volume 8, Issue 31, miscellaneous front pages i-vi

THE UNITED STATES MAGAZINE AND DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. THE REST GOVERNMENT IS THAT WHICH GOVERNS LEAST. VOLUME VIII. CONTAINING THE POLITICAL AND LITERARY PORTIONS OF THE NUMBERS PUBLISHED IN JULY, AUGUST, SEPTEM BER, OCTOBER, NOVEMBER, AND DECEMBER, 1840. WASHINGTON, D. C. PUBLISHED BY S. D. LANGTREE. 1~4Q. INDEX TO VOLUME VIII. A American Aristocracy, . . 113 American Reminiscences of the last sixty-five years, commencing with the battle of Lexington, . - 226 Adams, Samuel, - . . - 244 Agricultural System, . . - 300 A Lay Sermon at Sea, . . . 336 American Poetry, . - . 399 Psalm CXXXVHContempla- tionsSpr~ng in New Eng- landYamoydenThe Prai- riesThe Husbands and Wifes GraveBurnsMy Native VillageTo the Canary BirdThe Wind Flower. Association and Re-organization of Industry, or Social Destiny of Man, by Albert Brisbane, - . 431 Defects of the present System of IndustryDefects of the Sys- tem of Separate, or Isolated HouseholdsDetails relativeto the Organizaton of Associa- tionThe PassionsDestiny of ManObjects ofAssociation CommerceProofs. B Battle of Lexington, - . . 226 Bank of the United States in 1816 Cincinnatti 246 Bentham, Jeremy, . . - 251 Before the Mast, Two Years, - 318 A Personal Narrative of Life at Sea. C Carlyles Chartism, Currency and the Two Parties, Credit, English Chartism, - Charleston in 1795, - - Clevenger Airey, John - - Classical Studies, Vindication of 13 157 179 - 231 250 536 D Death of Hernando de Soto, . 174 Downfall of the Roman Empire, . 296 Diversity of Human Condition, its Advantages 308 Death of Don Pedro, by the author of The Brothers, Crom- well, The Charib Bride & c. 311 Democracy and Federalism, Ori- ginal Division of, - . . 366 E Elevation of the Labouring Portion of the Community, . - - 51 English Chartism, and English Credit 179 Exports of Cotton,. . - - 355 Early Federalists and Democrats, . 370 Election of Mr. Jefferson in 1800, - 872 F FundingandBankingReminiscences 245 Free Trade in Banking, - - . 306 Fragments of Unpublished Remi- niscences of Edward Livingston, 366 The Original Division of Federal- ism and DemocracyJays Treaty, & c.General Jackson and Livingston in Congress The early Federalists and De- mocratsJeffersons Election in 1800The Yellow Fever in New York of 1803General Jackson at New Orleans Montgomery. Federalists and Democrats, - . 370 G Guizots Essay on Washington, - 3 Good Night. From the German of Korner . 179 Greece, its present condition, - 204 General Jackson and Mr. Living ston in Congress, - - - 368 General Jackson at New Orleans, . 379 Gilpin, Henry D.,:withan engraved Portrait, - . - . - 512 H Hayne, Robert Y 237 Hancock, John, and Saml Adams, 242 Index. History and Moral Relations of Po litical Economy 291 Independent Treasury Reform, Influence of Commerce, Imports 18361838, Intelligence of the People, J Jeremy Bentham, L .99 310 357 360 Labouring Portion of the Commu nity, Elevation of, - . 51 Lowndes, William, - - 239 Lay Sermon at Sea, - - 336 Late Election 3~7 M Mineral Lands of the United States, 30 Report of a Geological Explora- tion of part of Iowa,Wisconsin, and Illinois, made under in- structious from the Secretary of the Treasury of the United States, by David Dale Owen, M. D., Principal Agent to ex- plore the Mineral Lands of the United States, in the autumn of the year 1839. Printed by or- der of the Senate of the United States. Moral Relations of Political Econo my and History - - - - 291 Mercantile System, - - - 299 Malthus and Ricardo, - - . 304 Moral Relations of Political Econo my, 307 Montgomery, his remains deposited in St: Pauls Church, New York, 384 Marius, by the Author of Fragments of Unpublished Reminiscences of the late Edward Livingston, - 475 MariusBorn in CirraetumHe distinguished himself at the Siege of NumantiumScipio foresees his greatnessHis Tribuneship Charged with briberyAcquitted by the peo- pleHe goes to Numidia with MetellusHisquarrel with Me- tellasHe obtains the Consul- ateDrivesJugurtha from Na- midiaBocchus surrenders Ju- gurthato SyllaMariuss trium- phant return to RomeInva- sion of the Cimbri, and Teu- tonesMans chosen Consul for the second timeAssumes the command of the armyHe is chosen Consul a third time MarthaPortents and omens presaging victory to the Ro- mansVictory over the Cimbri Marius is elected a fourth time ConsulMarius marches to the relief of his colleague be- sieged in his campa second battle as glorious as the first He receives the news of his election to the Consulate for - 251 the fifth timeMarius triumphs with Catulus, the other Consul Marius is elected a sixth time ConsulMarius passes into AsiaHis meeting with Mith- ridatesThe Social WarMa- rius saves Syllas lifeMaims serves as a proconsul during the Social WarMarius oh- tainsthe command againstMith- ridatesSyllaMarius is driv- en from Rome by SyllaMa- rius returns to ItalyUnites with CinnaEnters Rome at the head of an armyIs elect- ed Consul for the seventh time !Retaliates with great severity on the party of Sylla, in revenge of the slaughter and proscription by them, of his re- latives and friendsprepares to meet SyllaHis sickness and death. Lucius Cornelius Syllabecomes Quzastor of Marius in Numi- diaBocchus delivers Jugur- tha a captive into his hands Had this event engraved on a ring, and used it to seal all his lettersIs employed again by Marius in the Cimbric War Pursued by Saturnius and other assassins, he ran for safety into Mariusshouseis saved bybim Distinguishes himself greatly in the Social War-Refuses to give up to Marius the com- mand of the army under him Leads his soldiers against Rome Enters it sword in hand His proscriptions and atroci- ties therePlaces power in the hands of his party, and hastens to march against Mithridates Returns to Italy after the death of ManiusDefeats all the leaders of the Marian party The battle between him and Telesinus in sight of Rome The slaughter of 10,000 Sam- nitesHis cruelties and pro- scriptionsAssumes the Dicta- Index. torsbipKeeps down all rival ambition, as long as he lived His malady and deathHis character. N New Orleans, after an absence of ten years 537 0 On the Elevation of the Labouring Portion of the Community, . 51 Old Massachusetts Bar, . . 234 On the Intelligence of the People, 360 Original Division of Federalism and Democracy, . . . 366 P Political Portraits, No. XIX. Ben- jamin Tappan, senator from Ohio, . . . . 42 Progress of Society, . - . 67 Presidential Contest, . . . 195 Present Condition of Greece, by George Sumner, Esq. . . 204 Poetry, American. . . . 399 Political Economy, . . 291 Prices, Question of, . . . 346 People, Intelligence of, . . 360 Presidential Election, 1840, . 385 Political Portraits, with Pen and Pencil, No. XXIII. Henry D. Gilpin 512 R Report of a Geological Explanation of part of Iowa, Wisconsin, and Illinois 30 Re-organization of Industry, or So cial Destiny of Man, . - - 431 S Society, Progress of, . . . 67 Sedition Law. John Randolph, . 235 Sculpture of Cincinnatti, - 247 Smith, Adam, his great work, - 301 T The Streamlet. By the Author of the Yemassee, - . - 109 The Voices of Home. By Mrs. M. St. Leon Loud The Currency. and the Two Par ties 157 The Death of Hernando de Soto, - 174 Translations from the Greek Antho logy 177 Leonidas of TarentumArchias Leonidas of TarentumAn- tipater Sidonius, On Anacreon The Presidential Contest, . . 195 The Present condition of Greece, by George Sumner, Esq., . . 204 Thomass American Reminiscences of the last sixty-five years, com- niencing with the battle of Lex mgton, & c. - - . . 226 The History and Moral Relations of Political Economy, - . . 291 The Question of Prices, . - 346 Exports of CottonImports of 18361838, & c. W Washington, Essay on, . - - 3 Washington and Gouverneur Mor ris 240 Washington and General Ward, - 241 Who Governs, then? A Tale of the Court of Louis XV. From the GermanofZschokke, - - 88 The Book-keeperPauline~the Prince de SoubiseMadame de Pompadour, - - - 137 The KingThe EffectThe Ad- vancementThe BlowWar with EnglandThe Patent of Nobilitythe veil, - - - 271 The Alliance with AustriaDe- sire for RetirementAll Fol- lowThe Battle of Rosbach The Exile. Y Yazoo Fraud and John Randolph, 236 Yellow Fever in New York, 1803, 373 ERRATA TO THE ARTICLE MARIUS. Page 484, in the second line, seventh paragraph, for compassioned eloquence, read enipassioned eloquence. 486, in the first line, for gluttinous, read gluttonous. 489, in the tenth line, for action; read actions ;for in the vigourous read their vigourous. 495, in the ninth line of last paragraph, for Salernius. read Saturnius. 501, in the eighth line, last paragraph, for Baetia, read Beotia. 511, in the last line but one, for Phiipdi, read Philippi. 511, in the last line but one of the second paragraph, for Lapides, read Lepidus.

Guizot's Essay on Washington 3-13

THE UNITED STATES MAGAZINE AND DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. VOL. VIII. JULY, 1840. No. XXXI. GUIZOTS ESSAY ON WASHJNGTON.* IN advance of its translation and appearance on this side of the At- lantic, a notice has already been taken, in the pages of this work, of the publication referred to below, sufficient perhaps to supersede any necessity of a recurrence to itinteresting as it must be to the Ameri- can reader, not only the fact of its emanation from the pen of so dis- tinguished a writer and statesman as Mr. Guizot, but also from the abili- ty with which he has executed the task that he has undertaken. In the paper which appeared in the April Number of the Democratic Review, under the title of France, its.King, Court, and Government, by an Americanof which the authorship was too transparent, either to admit of an affectation of concealment, or render necessary the designation of a particular namea just criticism was combined with an equally just tribute of praise of Mr. Puizots performance. The necessary and proper American protest was there entered against the very exaggeration of the view commonly taken by European wri- ters of the agency of Washington in the mighty work of our- Revolu- tionan error which affords the only ground on which can be har- monized to any sort of logical consistency the astonishing facts of the character, events, and success of that Revolution, and of the political organization which was its result, with the anti-democratic theory from which the European has to look upon this great trans-Atlantic phenomenon. The great error, says Governor Cass(and for the sake of the connexion we may be pardoned a brief repetition) and it is a common one in Europe, has been to assign to Washington too important a part, and to the body of the people too insignificant a one, in our great political drama. Our social constitution is an enigma to the old world, and it is obvious, in all their speculations upon our true condition and upon the probable duration of our institutions, that that e~ment of our safety which depends upon general knowledge, and * Essay on the Character and Influence of Washington in the Revolution of the United States of America. By M. Guizot. Translated from the French. Boston: James Monroe and Company, 1840. 4 Guizots Essay on Washington. [July, upon the moral force of a well regulated public opinion, a public opi- nion in which all partake, in either wholly unknown or very im- perfectly comprehended. Washington is the great figure upon our political canvass; and he who knows no revolutions which are not regulated and controlled by some master mind, and among a people who require a visible representative with whom to embody their opi- nionsand a bloody-shirt as a material emblem of their wrongs may well suppose that the leaders alone possessed the moral force which darned our country through her struggle. But the issue de- pended upon no one man; and though the peculiar characteristics of Washington were admirably suited to his station and duties, still the great work would have gone on to its consummation if he had never existed. This protest, in the name of the American peoplein the name, too, of our great Hero himself, who, as Governor Cass truly says, if he were yet on earth would be the first to disclaim such preten- sionsbeing first duly recorded and heeded, we are free to express the admiration which none can deny to the general ~bility which dis- tinguishes Mr. Guizots Essay; the justness of many of his reflec- tions upon the spirit and character of the times; the acquaintance which it seems to evince with our history; and the fidelity and strength of the image evidently present to his mind of the moral por- traiture of his great subject. In judging of the completeness of the picture which he has drawn, it is necessary, indeed, to bear in mind the fact already adverted to, that, notwithstanding an apparent effort at philosophical impartiality, the position from which he takes his point of view, and the eye with which he looks upon it, are those of a monarchist, and one of the strongest supporters of a government which has very few and feeble sympathies with the great ideas of popular freedom; and that the aspect in which he prefers to contem- plate the character of Washington, as also the history of the parties which developed themselves during his administration of the Presi- dency, is of course the one most in harmony with the theory of his own political school, and the interests of his own political position. He thus brings out in strong lights all those traits of his character which gave his mind the bias which we know it to have had toward a consolidated energy of central government; and neither fails to ex- hibit to full advantage the distrust which the whole general spirit of his administration evinced, of the so-called ultraisms of democracy professed by the school of which Jefferson was the head; nor, in the account given of the organization of the government under the Con- stitution, does he disguise his decided leaning toward Hamilton and the party of which he was the true founder and head. With this we - do not find fault. It was of course to have been expected; nor is it un- accompanied by a degree of historical liberality toward Jefferson which is entitled to praise. Neither time nor repetition will ever make the subject of the cha 1840.] Guizots Essay on Washington. racter of Washington a stale or wearisome one to an American. There is probably no other ground of national self-love on which he prides himself more. We kno~vall the world admitsthat there has never existed but one Washington. In the whole range of ancient and modern history, no other page is found so gloriously while so serenely bright, as that which is illuminated by the record of his unparalleled career. Few persons are to be found of moral sense so diseased, as to think of elevating to the level of comparison with his any of the baser glories of kings or conquerors. Yet is his greatness of an ex- tremely simple character, and intelligible to all men. It is the grc2t~ ness of moral purity, and seems to have been oiven to afford to the world the most signal example it has yet known, of its immeasurable superiority over the most powerful intellectual pre-eminence, when the latter is debased by the fatal taint of vice, or prostituted to the selfish ends of a common ambition. But Washington was not a man of the new era. In no sense was he the representative of the Revolution of which he wa~ the military chief. Jefferson was its master mind, far as he was from possessing those practical qualities which would have fitted him for the great task performed by Washington, of guiding it to success through all the difficulties that encompassed its struggle for existence. With the divine prophetic gift of genius, he understood the Revolution, and had a glimpse far down the vista of its future, of the yet unknown glory and greatness of humanity to which it was to lead. Jefferson was in advance of his day; Washington was just up to its line, wonderfully as he there towered over the men who encompassed him; and there- fore was the latter the man to do the work of the dayboth to see the thing to be done, and to understand the exa9t practical how to do it. The times were not yet ripe for the realization of the democracy of Jefferson. He could only plant the seeds of its great ideas; and though they met with an apparent universal, as it was an enthusias- tic, assent, as they were embodied in the Declaration of Independence, yet the assent was not a perfect and living conviction. The age did not understand that all men are born free and equal or if it did, the idea was as yet but an abstract one, an unrealized speculation, a something destined hereafter to become the pervading animating prin- ciple of our social and political organization, but not yet really and practically inwrought into the general texture of the habits of opinion and feeling of the age. Nor is it indeed yet much more, though it has made some sensible progress in its developementa progress of which we believe that the tendency is to a constantly though slow- ly increasing acceleration. The Constitution which was the expression of the sum total of the real political ideas of the time is very far, therefore, from being a pure- ly democratic one; though there is in it a strong infusion of the demo- cratic element, an element of which the divine energy, however tempo- warily clogged and opposed, must eventually conquer over all the rest t~ 6 Guizots Essay on Washington. [July, itself. Jeffersons idea was Libertythat of the opposite school was Law. Equality and freedom, these were the aspirations of the one a wise subordination and salutary restraint, the objects toward which were chiefly directed the efforts of the other. As in the natural world, so may we call these antagonist principles the positive anti negative poles of political opinion. And here Mr. Guizot may recog- nise the explanation of the apparent anomaly which he confesses that he does not understand, namciy, that at the first formation of our parties they divided themselves off on the names Federal and De- mocrat. At the first glance, he remarks, the names of these parties excite surprise. Federal and democratic ; between these two qualities, these tendencies, there is no real and essential difference. But Mr. Guizots account of the origin of our parties, merits well that we should quote it entire: It is a remark often made, and generally assented to, that in the England colo- nies, before their separation from the mother country, the state of society and feel- ing was essentially republican, and that everything was prepared for this form of government. But a republican form of government can govern and, in point of fact, has governed societies essentially different; and th.e same society may undergo great changes without ceasing to be a republic. All the English colonies showed them- selves, nearly in the same degree, in favor of the republican constitution. At the north and at the south, in Virginia and the Carolinas, as well as in Connecticut and Massachusetts, the public will was the same, so far as the form of government was concerned. Still, (and the remark has been often made,) considered in their social organiza- tion, in the condition and relative position of their inhabitants, these were very dif- ferent. In the south, especially in Virginia and North Carolina, the soil belonged, in general, to large proprietors, who were surrounded by slaves or by cultivators on a small scale. Entails and the right of primogeniture secured the perpetuity of fami- lies. There was an established and endowed church. The civil legislation of England, bearing strongly the impress of its feudal origin, had been maintained al- most without exception. The social state was aristocratic. In the north, eapecially in Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, & c., the fugitive Puritans had brought with them, and planted there, strict democracy with religious enthusiasm. Here, there was no slavery; there were no large proprietors in the midst of an inferior population, no entailment of landed property; there was no church, with different degrees of rank, and founded in the name of the state; no social superiority, lawfully estahlished and maintained Man was here left to his own efforts and to divine favor. The spirit of independence and equality had passed from the church to the state. Still, however, even in the northern colonies, and under the sway of Pnritan principles, other causes, not sufficiently noticed, qualified this character of the so- cial state, and modified its developement. There is a great, a very great difference between a purely religious and a purely political democratic spirit. However ar- dent, however impracticable the former may be, it receives in its origin, and main- tains in its action, a powerful element of subordination and order, that is, reverence. In spite of their spiritual pride, the Puritans, every day, bent before a master and submitted to him their thoughts, their heart, their life; and on the shores of America, when they had no longer to defend their liberties against human power, when they were governing themselves in the presence of God, the sincerity of their faith and the strictness of their manners counteracted the inclination of the spirit of democracy toward individual lawlessness and general disorder. Those magistrates, 1840.] Guizots Essay on Washington. 7 so watched, so constantly changed, had still a strong ground of support, which ren- dered them firm, often even severe, in the exercise of authority, In the bosom of those families, so jealous of their rights, so opposed to all political display, to all conventional greatness, the paternal authority was strong and much respected. The law sanctioned rather than limited it. Entails and inequality in inheritance were forbidden; but the father had the entire disposition of his property, and divided it among his children according to his own will. In general, civil legislation was not controlled by political maxims, and preserved the impress of ancient manners. In consequence of this, the democratic spirit, though predominant, was everywhere met by check and balances. Beside, a circumstance of material importance, temporary but of decisive effect, served to conceal its presence and retard its sway. In the towns, there was no populace; in the country, the population was settled around the principal planters, commonly those who had received grants of the soil, and were invested with the lo- cal magistracies. The social principles were democratic, but the position of indi- viduals was very little so. Instruments were wanting to give effect to the principles. Influence still dwelt with rank. And on the other hand the number did not press heavily enough to make the greater weight in the balance. But the Revolution, hastening the progress of events, gave to American society a general and rapid movement in the direction of democracy. In those States where the aristocratic principle was still strong, as in Virginia, it was immediately assailed and subdued. Entails disappeared. The church lost not only its privileges, but its official rank in the state. The elective principle prevailed throughout the whole government. The right of suffrage was greatly extended. Civil legislation, without undergoing a radical change, inclined more and more toward equality. The progress of democracy was still more marked in events than in laws. In the towns the population increased rapidly, and, with it, the populace also. In the country toward the west, beyond the Alleghany mountains, by a constant and ac- celerated movement of emigration, new States were growing up or preparing to be formed, inhabited by a scattered population, always in contest with the rude pow- ers of nature and the ferocious passions of savages; half savage themselves; stran- gers to the forms and proprieties of thickly settled communities; given up to the selfishness of their own separated and solitary exi~tence, and of their passions; bold, proud, rude, and passionate. Thus, in all parts of the country, along the sea- board as well as in the interior of the continent, in the great centres of population and in the forests hardly yet explored, in the midst of commercial activity and of rural life, numbers, the simple individual, personal independence, primitive equality, all these democratic elements, were increasing, extending their influence, and taking, in the state and its institutions, the place which had been prepared for them, but which they had not previously held. And, in the course of ideas, the same movement; even more rapid, hurried along the minds of men and the progress of opinion, far in advance of events. In the midst of the most civilized and wisest States, the most radical theories obtained not only favor but strength. The properiy of the United States has been protect- ed from the confiscation of Britain by the joint exertion of all, and therefore ought to be the common property of all; and he that attempts opposition to this creed is an enemy to equity and justice, and ought to be swept from the face of the earth. * * * * They are determined to annihilate all debts, public and private, and have agrarian laws, which are easily effected by the means of unfunded paper mo- ney, which shall be a tender in all cases whatever. These disorganizing fancies were received in Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New Hampshire, by a conside- rable portion of the people; twelve or fifteen thousand men took up arms in order to reduce them to practice. And the evil appeared so serious, that Madison, the most intimate friend of Jefferson, a man whom the democratic party subsequently ranked among its leaders, regarded American society as almost lost, and hardly ventured to entertain any hope. 8 Guizots Essay on Washington. [July, Two powers act in concurrence to develope and maintain the life of a people; its civil constitution and its political organization, the general influences of society and the authorities of the State ; the latter were wanting to the infant American commonwealth, still more than the former. In this society, so disturbed, so slight- ly connected, the old government had disappeared, and the new had not yet been formed. I have spoken of the insignificance of Congress, the only bond of union between the States, the only central power; a power without rights and without strength ; signing treaties, nominating ambassadors, proclaiming that the public good required certain laws, certain taxes, and a certain army; but not having itself the power of making laws, or judges or officers to administer them; without taxes, with which to pay its ambassadors, officers, and judges, or troops to enforce the payment of taxes and cause its laws, judges, and officers to be respected. The political state was still more weak and more wavering than the social state. The Constitution was formed to remedy this evil, to give to the Union a govern- ment. It accomplished two great results. The central government became a real one, and was placed in its proper position. The Constitution freed it from the con- trol of the States, gave it a direct action upon the citizens without the intervention of the local authorities, and supplied it with the instruments necessary to give effect to its will; with taxes, judges, officers, and soldiers. In its own interior organiza- tion, the central 2overnment was well conceived and well balanced; the duties and rehtions of the several powers were regulated with great good sense, and a clear understanding of the conditions upon which order and political vitality were to be had; at least for a republican form and the society for which it was intended. In comparing the Constitution of the United States with the anarchy from which it sprang, we cannot too much admire the wisdom of its framers and of the genera- tion which selected and sustained them. But the Constitution, though promulgated, was as yet a mere name. It supplied remedies against the evil, but the evil was still there. The great powers, which it had brought into existence, were confronted with the events which had preceeded it and rendered it so necessary, and with the parties which were formed by the events, and were striving to mould society and the Constitution itself according to their own views. At the first glance, the names of these parties excite surprise. Federal and democratic ; between these two qualities, these two tendencies, there is no real and essential difference. In Holland in the seventeenth century, in Switzerland even in our time, it was the democratic party which aimed at strengthening the federal union, the central government; it was the aristocratic party which placed itself at the head of the local governments, and defended their sovereignty. The Dutch people supported William of Nassau and the Stadtholdership against John de Witt and the leading citizens of the towns. The patricians of Schweitz and Un are the most obstinate enemies of the federal diet and of its power. In the course of their struggle, the American parties often received different designations. The democratic party arrogated to itself the title of republican, and bestowed on the other that of narchistz and monocrats. The federalists called their opponents anti-ztnionists. They mutually accused each other of tending, the one to monarchy, and the other to separation; of wishing to destroy, the one the republic, and the other the union. This was either a bigoted prejudice or a party trick. Both parties were sin- cerely friendly to a republican form of government and the union of the States. The names, which they gave one another for the sake of mutual disparagement, were still more false than their original denominations were imperfect and improperly opposed to each other. Practically, and so far as the immediate affairs of the country were concerned, they differed less, than they either said or thought, in their mutual hatred. But, in reality, there was a permanent and essential difference between them in their prin- ciples and their tendencies. The federal party was, at the same time, aristocratic, favorable to the preponderance of the higher classes, as well as t& the power of the 1840] Guizots Essay on Washington. central government. The democratic party was, also, the local party; desiring at once the rule of the majority, and the almost entire independence of the state govern- ments. Thus there were points of difference between them respecting both social order and political order; the constitution of society itself, as well as of its govern~ ment. Thus those paramount and eternal questions, which have agitated, and will continue to agitate, the world, and which are linked to the far higher problem of mans nature and destiny, were all involved in the American parties, and were all conceal- ed under their names.~ In all this there is a great deal of truth, though not without some admixture of error on which we cannot at present afford the requisite space to comment. In the concluding passage Mr. Guizot appreci~ ates with perfect accuracy the distinctive characters of the two parties. There is but one material point which he omits to notice the natural harmony between what he calls the democratic and the local characters of the one party, and between the aristocratic and central characters of the other. True, as he says, both par- ties were sincerely friendly to a republican form of government and the union of the States; but there are few words which embrace a more vague latitude in their signification than the word republican~ A republic, in the common sense which usage has given to the term, may be,in truth, nothing else than an aristocracy, more or less broad- ly extended. Of this a sufficient illustration is exhibited in the com~ promise which it afforded of two theories so widely divergent as those of Hamilton and Jefferson. But Mr. Guizot does not point to the truth that the one party was local because it was democratic, and the other central or federal because it was essentially aristocratic. The latter was in favor of a strong centralization of power, gathered together indeed from the popular mass upon which it was to act, but when so collected a thing apart, to be administered and wielded with a vigorous governing energy, by the small number of the wealthier and more educated classes in whose hands they believed it niight most safely and wisely be trusted. Strong gov~rn- ment, strong lawand much of bothwas what they wanted and what they believed necessary to protect the people from their own ignorance, turbulence, and fickleness. On the other hand the Demo- cratic school were filled with an instinctive jealousy of authority. Whether administered though one set of agents or another, under one system of forms or another, they distrusted its inherent tendency both to aggrandizement and to abuse. Hence the reluctance with which they consented to the bestowal of power upon the Federal Governmenthence the tenacity with which they clung to the sove- reign rights of the States, for the sake of the diffusion and consequent dilution of the energies of government thus effected. This was the new schoolthese were the men of the new era, the men of the future. The day of their ascendency was yet to come. The present was to be ruled by the men of the present. It is no matter of surprise, therefore, that the latter exercised, not only a pre A2 10 Guizots Essay on Waskington. [July, vailing infitience in the organization of the system of government which was adopted, but also a decisive control upon its first applica- tion to practicethat they were able to stamp it deeply with the character of their own principle, and to give it a powerful start at the outset of its career in the direction of their own bias. And such was the case. The genius of Hamilton ruled the ascen- dant at that period. Jefferson had to retire before it. Washington did not understand the high democratic philosophy of Jefferson, and Hamilton found in his mindtrained as it had been by a military life to ideas of subordination and strong central governing energya congeni- al sympathy with his own political theory. Mr. Guizot thus very justly presents this point of Washingtons character and course: In the struggle of the parties, all that had reference to the mere organization of civil society occupied his attention very little. This involves abstruse and re- condite questions, which are clearly revealed only to the meditations of the philo- sopher, after he has surveyed human society in all periods and under all their forms. Washington was little accustomed to contemplation or acquainted with science. In 1787, before going to Philadelphia, he had undertaken, for the purpose of getting clear views, to study the constitution of the principal confederations, ancient and modern; & nd the abstract of this labor, found among his papers, shown, that he had made a collection of facts in support of the plain dictates of his good sense, rather than penetrated into the essential nature of these complicated associations. Moreover, Washingtons natural inclination was rather to a democratic social state, than to any other. Of a mind just rather than expansive, of a temper wise and calm ; full of dignity, but free from all selfish and arrogant pretensions; covet- ing rather respect than power; the impartiality of democratic principles, and the simplicity of democratic manners, far from offending or annoying him, suited his tastes and satisfied. his judgment. He did not trouble himself with inquiring, like the partisans of the aristocratic system, whether more elaborate combinations, a division into ranks, privileges, and artificial barriers, were necessary to the p~eser- vation of society. He lived tranquilly in the midst of an equal and sovereign peo- ple, finding its authority to be lawful and submitting to it without effort. But when the question was one of political and not social order, when the dis- cussion turned upon the organization of the government, he was strongly federal~ opposed to local and popular pretensions, and the declared advocate of the unity and force of the central power. He placed himself under this standard, and did so in order to insure its triumph. But still his elevation was not the victory of a party, and awakened in no one either exultation or regret. In the eyes, not only of the public, but of his enemies, he was not included in any party, and was above them all; the only man in the United States, said Jefferson, who possessed the confidence of all; * * * * * there was no other one, who was considered as anything more than a party leader. ~ The following are his sketches of the respective heads of the antagonist parties, which soon began to develope themselves: Hamilton deserves to be ranked among those men, who have best understood the vital principles and essential conditions of government; not merely of a nominal government, but of a government worthy of its mission and of its name. In the Constitution of the United States, there is not an element of order, strength, and durability, to the introduction and adoption of which he did not powerfully contribute. Perhaps he believed the monarchical form preferable to the republican. Perhaps hc~ sometimes had doubts of the success of the experiment attempted in his own coun- try. Perhaps, also, carried away by his vivid imagination and the logical vehemenc - of his mind, he was sometimes exclusive in his views, and went too far in his infer- 1840.] 11 Guizots Essay on Washington. ences. But, of a character as lofty as his mind, he faithfully served the republic, and labored to found and not to weaken it. His superiority consisted in knowing, that, naturally and by a law inherent in the nature of things, power is above, at the head of society ; that government should be constituted according to this law; and that every contrary system or effort brings, sooner or later, trouble and weakness into the society itself. His error consisted in adhering too closely, and with a some- what arrogant obstinacy, to the precedents of the English constitution, in attributing sometimes in these precedents the same authority to good and to evil, to principles and to the abuse of them, and in not attaching due importance to, and reposing sufficient confidence in, the variety of political forms and the flexibility of human society. There are occasions, in which political genius consists, in not fearing what is new, while what is eternal is respected. The democratic party, not the turbulent and coarse democracy of antiquity or of the middle ages, but the great modern democracy, never had a more faithful or more distinguished representative than Jefferson. A warm friend of humanity, liberty, and science; trusting in their goodness as well as their rights ; deeply touch- ed by the injtf~ice with which the mass of mankind have been treated, and the sufferings they endure, and incessantly engaged, with an admirable disinterestedness, in remedying them or preventing their recurrence; accepting power as a dangerous necessity, almost as one evil opposed to another, and exerting himself not merely to restrain, but to lower it; distrusting all display, all personal splendor, as a tenden- cy to usurpation; of a temper open, kind, indulgent, though ready to take up preju- dices against, and feel irritated with, the enemies of his party; of a mind bold, active, ingenious, inquiring, with more penetration than forecaste, but with too much good sense to push things to the extreme, and capable of employing, against a press- ing danger or evil, a prudence and firmness, which would perhaps have prevented it, had they been adopted earlier or more generally. The following remarks upon the political character of Washington are very just, and worthy of quotationthough involving what we regard as an erroneous view of the true theory of American demo- cracy. That theory is not that the nation should be strongly governed from its central representative institutions, and, therefore, that it re~ quires, as its necessary condition, an extraordinary degree of genuine devotedness and moral superiority on the part of its leaders. It is that it should be governed very littlein the sense in which Mr. Guizot uses the term, that it should not be governed at all. We should despair of democracy ever being able to take a place among the durable and glorious forms of human society, if Washingtons were always necessary to it. And here we perceive the usual sophis- try of conservatism which always assumes as an indispensable condi- tion to democracy a degree of universal public virtue, and of super~ human moral elevation on the part of its leaders, which, in fact, it is quixotic to look for: Washington did well to withdraw from public business. He had entered upon it at one of those moments, at once difficult and favorable, when nations, surrounded by perils, summon all their virtue and all their wisdom to surmount them. He was admirably suited to this position. He held the sentiments and opinions of his age without slavishness or fanaticism. The past. its institutions, its interests, its man- ners, inspired him with neither hatred nor regret. His thoughts and his ambition did not impatiently reach forward into the future. The society, in the midst of which he lived, suited his tastes and his judgment. He had confidence in its prin- ciples and its destiny; but a confidence enlightened and qualified by. an accurate [July, 12 Guizots Essay on Washington. instinctive perception of the eternal principles of social order. He served it with heartiness and independence, with that combination of faith and fear which is wis- dom in the affairs of the world, as well as before God. On this account, especially, he was qualified to govern it; for democracy requires two things for its tranquillity and its success; it must feel itself to be trusted and yet restrained, and must believe alike in the genuine devotedness and the moral superiority of its leaders. On these conditions alone can it govern itself while in a process of developement, and hope to take a place among the durable and glorious forms of human society. It is the honor of the American people to have, at this period, understood and ac- cepted these conditions. It is the glory of Washington to have been their interpre- ter and instrument. He did the two greatest things which, in politics, man can have the privilege of attempting. He maintained, by peace, that independence of his country, which he had acquired by war. He founded a free government, in the name of the principles of order, and by re-establishing their sway. When he retired from public life, both tasks were accomplished, and he could enjoy the result. For, in such high enterprises, the labor which they have cost mat- ters but little. The sweat of any toil is dried at once on the brow where God places such laurels. He retired voluntarily, and a conqueror. To the very last, his policy had pre- vailed. If he had wished, he could still have kept the direction of it. His succes- sor was one of his most attached friends, one whom he had himself designated. Still the epoch was a critical one. He had governed successfully for eight years, a long period in a democratic state, and that in its infancy. For some time, a policy apposed to his own had been gaining ground. American society seemed disposed to make a trial of new paths, more in conformity, perhaps, with its bias. Perhaps the hour had come for Washington to quit the arena. His successor was there overcome. Mr. Adams was succeeded by Mr. Jefferson, the leader of the oppo- sition. Since that time, the democratic party has governed the United States. Is this a good or an evil Could it be otherwise Had, the government con- tinued in the hands of the federal party, would it have done better Was this pos- sible What have been the consequences, to the United States, of the triumph of the democratic party Have they been carried out to the end, or have they only begun What changes have the society and constitution of America undergone what have they yet to undergo, under their influence These are great questions; difficult, if I mistake not, for natives to solve, and certainly impossible for a foreigner. Have they been carried out to the end, or have they only begun ? They have not yet even - begun. At the very outset the beneficial action of the democratic principle in the developement of the na- tional character and condition, was to a very great extent neutralized in advance by the fatal poison of the paper-money currency which Hamilton succeeded in infusing into our system; and all that we have effected by our struggles and sufferings of so many years, is only partially to recover the ground occupied by us half a century ago. Washington did not understand the tendency of this policy, and we have ample assurance from his writings that he would have been on our side of the great controversy had he now been living. We do not undertake to answer Mr. Guizots questions as to the future; but having once attained this point, and reformed the Federal Government back to the true principles of the Constitution, we fearlessly trust them to the demonstration of time. 1840.] 13 CARLYLES CHARTISM.* THIS iS the last work of one of the most extraordinary writers of the age, extraordinary both in his merits and defects, in his habits of thinking and his modes of expression, in the manner of his appearance before the public, and in the singular influence which he exerts over a large number of followers. It is but two or three years since Mr. Carlyle became known extensively, and from that time to this, his reputation as a writer of unusual force and originality has continued to increase. In the beginning, his name was familiar only to the few who were into the secret of the anonymous contributions to the various English periodicals. Some successful translations from German books, and one or two masterly articles on the present state and future prospects of German literature, brought him into the notice of the poet Goethe, who speaks of him, in the conversations which Eckermann has reported, as knowing more of German literature than many of the most accomplished Germans themselves, and secured to him, we be- lieve, the acquaintance and favor of that great man. As an author by name he first arrested attention by the publication in New England by some of his friends, in the form of a book, of certain occasional essays from Frazers Magazine, under the name of Sartor Resartus. This was a fantastic but entertaining work, which, as a symbolic treatise on the Philosophy of Clothes, gave a criticism of the general spirit of the age. It was followed by the publication of the French Revolutiona history, in three volumes, and subsequently by four volumes of miscellaneous essays, gathered from the different Quarter- lies and Monthlies in which they were originally printed. Our readers, we presume, are already too well acquainted with these works, to re- quire at our hands any account of their contents. rrhe work before us is more recent, and relates to subjects of more immediate and pressing interest. It purports to be an inquiry into the condition of the working people of England, suggested by the late movements of the Chartists, and written in perfect independence of the political parties which divide that nation. It abounds in all the peculiarities, whether merits or defects, which mark his former pro- ductions. It has all the abruptness and irregularity of style, all the strange involutions of sentences, all the fondness for foreign idioms, all the grotesque images, all the unintelligible allusions, all the dark inklings, and vague declamations which make his books so hard to read, and yet all the originality, the eloquence, the fervor, the force, the humor, the picturesque description, the lofty philosophy, and * Chartism, by Thomas Carlyle. Boston: Charles C. Little & James Brown, 1840.

Carlyle's Chartism 13-30

1840.] 13 CARLYLES CHARTISM.* THIS iS the last work of one of the most extraordinary writers of the age, extraordinary both in his merits and defects, in his habits of thinking and his modes of expression, in the manner of his appearance before the public, and in the singular influence which he exerts over a large number of followers. It is but two or three years since Mr. Carlyle became known extensively, and from that time to this, his reputation as a writer of unusual force and originality has continued to increase. In the beginning, his name was familiar only to the few who were into the secret of the anonymous contributions to the various English periodicals. Some successful translations from German books, and one or two masterly articles on the present state and future prospects of German literature, brought him into the notice of the poet Goethe, who speaks of him, in the conversations which Eckermann has reported, as knowing more of German literature than many of the most accomplished Germans themselves, and secured to him, we be- lieve, the acquaintance and favor of that great man. As an author by name he first arrested attention by the publication in New England by some of his friends, in the form of a book, of certain occasional essays from Frazers Magazine, under the name of Sartor Resartus. This was a fantastic but entertaining work, which, as a symbolic treatise on the Philosophy of Clothes, gave a criticism of the general spirit of the age. It was followed by the publication of the French Revolutiona history, in three volumes, and subsequently by four volumes of miscellaneous essays, gathered from the different Quarter- lies and Monthlies in which they were originally printed. Our readers, we presume, are already too well acquainted with these works, to re- quire at our hands any account of their contents. rrhe work before us is more recent, and relates to subjects of more immediate and pressing interest. It purports to be an inquiry into the condition of the working people of England, suggested by the late movements of the Chartists, and written in perfect independence of the political parties which divide that nation. It abounds in all the peculiarities, whether merits or defects, which mark his former pro- ductions. It has all the abruptness and irregularity of style, all the strange involutions of sentences, all the fondness for foreign idioms, all the grotesque images, all the unintelligible allusions, all the dark inklings, and vague declamations which make his books so hard to read, and yet all the originality, the eloquence, the fervor, the force, the humor, the picturesque description, the lofty philosophy, and * Chartism, by Thomas Carlyle. Boston: Charles C. Little & James Brown, 1840. 14 Carlyles Chartism. [July, startling boldness both of thought and expression which make them withal so pleasant. Some one has said of Keans acting, .that it was reading Shakspeare by lightning. We may say, with no more exagger- ation, of most of Carlyles writing, that if it is not re~ding Shakspeare, it is looking at a picture gallery, by lightning. We open a book and find ourselves in black darkness, groping along in distrustfulness and uncertainty; all at once a flash shoots across the sky, and crowds of pictures, some faintly sketched and others boldly and vividly painted, stand revealed. Here, we find a delicate but expressive outline by Retsch, there, a~ grand and awful group by Rubens, and scattered everywhere, the bold, chaotic, fire and light conglomerations of Martin. Carlyle has, therefore, more of robust strength and spasmodic vigor than,of delicacy or clearness. He is full of point, brilliancy, and antithesis, but quite wanting in elegance and simplicityhas more of force than of graceand is rather impressive and touching than con- vincing or persuasive: he carries you along by his impetuosity, he startles you by his flashes, fills you with a lofty valor, kindles a sort of heroic love, awakens purposes of noble and generous action, but never, or seldom, starts the unconscious tear by the quiet and sub- dued expres~ion of the gentle and the humble. As a critic he is bet- ter than as a philosopher; a critic, both sympathetic and severe, deeply penetrated by the sufferings of kindred genius, and keenly alive to the ludicrous follies of quackery and pretension; but a philosopher, unsatisfactory and obscure, or one of that sort which Coleridge de- scribes, to follow whom, is like taking a Chamois hunter for your guide, so long as your eye is fixed upon him, he will conduct you safely over precipices, pitfalls, and the eternal glaciers, but when your eye fails, which it is apt to do from the dizzy height, lets you down head- long into the unfathomable abyss. On the whole, it is not too much to say of him, what in the third volume of his German Romance he has himself said so graphically of his great master and model Jean Paul Rich- ter. They (his works) are a tropical wilderness, full of endless tor- tuosities; but with the fairest flowers and the coolest fountains; now over-arching us with high umbrageous gloom, now opening in long gorgeous vistas. One wanders through them enjoying their wild gran- deur; and, by degrees, our half contemptuous wonder at the author passes into reverence and love. His face was long hid from us; but we see him at length in the firm shape of spiritual manhood; a vast and most singular nature, but vindicating his singular nature by the force, and beauty, and benignity which pervade it. In fine, we joy- fully accept him, for what he is and was meant to be. The graces, the polish, the sprightly elegances, which belong to men of lighter make, we cannot look for or demand from him. His movement is essentially slow and cumbrous, for he advances not with one faculty but a whole mind; with intellect and pathos, and humour and indigna- tion, moving on like a. mighty host, motley, ponderous, irregular, irre 1840.] Carlyles Ckartisrn. 15 sistible. He is not airy, sparkling, precise, but deep, billowy, vast. The melody of his nature is not expressed in common note-marks or written down by the critical gamut; for it is wild and manifold; its voice is like the voice of cataracts, and the sounding of primeval forests. To feeble ears it is discord, but to ears that can understand it majestic music.~~ But it is not our design to write a criticism upon the genius of Mr. Carlyle, or upon the spirit of his writings. We prefer at this time, by paraphrase and extract, to furnish our readers with some idea of the contents of his latest publication. Chartism is a short pam- phlet in ten chapters, which treat rather rhapsodically of the causes of the present condition of the English working classes, and the best method of applying a remedy. The names of these chapters are I. Condition of Englan~l Question, II. Statistics, III. New Poor Law, IV. Finest Peasantry in the world, V. Rights and Mights, VI. Lais- sez-Faire, VII. Not Laissez-Faire, VIII. New Eras, IX. Parliamen- tary Radicalism, X. Impossible. Under these odd-sounding titles Mr. Carlyle has managed to present the matter, in all the aspects of it which most strongly move his own mind. He begins by stating the importance of the question, and the necessity, not only of saying but of doing something in so ominous a matter as the general discon- tent of the laboring population. When a petition of grievances, so large that it must be carted along the streets in wagons, is borne to the House of Commons, when more than a million and a half of people earnestly demand some action on the part of the government, when popular restlessness breaks out into brickbats, cheap pikes, and even sputterings of conflagration, he thinks it an evidence that if something be not speedily done, something will do itself, and that after a fashion that will please nobody. It is true, the newspa- pers have exclaimed that Chartism is ended, and that a reform minis- try have crushed the chimera in the most effectual manner; but, though the temporai~y embodiment of Chartism may have been put down, the vital essence of it is not extinct. In one form or another, it lives; with a vitality which reform ministries, constabulary forces, and rural polices, will not find it so easy to destroy. Chartism is nothing more nor less than the wrong condition or wrong disposi- tion of the working classes of England, and until that condition and that disposition are improved, the uneasiness cannot be quelled and will not depart. It is idle to execrate it; to call it mad, incendiary, nefarious; to strive to crush it by armed force, or the vindictive pe- nalties of law; the discontent actually exists, and must b6 dealt with as a fact, a most grave, complex, and all-important fact. It may be asked, continues the writer, why Parliament has thrown no light upon the subject, since its members are expressly appointed to inquire and act for the good of the nation; but, he answers, that whoever knows anything of Parliaments, knows that they labor ~eem [July, 16 Crrlyles Ckartism. ingly only for their own sakes, that frivolous questions are their chief topics, and that lumbering along in the deep ruts of common-place, parliaments have no inclination to travel out of the beaten track. As the Collective Wisdom of the nation, Parliament has availed the na- tion nothing, and, for all purposes connected with the interest of the great dumb toiling class, might as well not have been. But it is a matter which cannot be left to the Collective Folly of the nation. It remains, therefore, for each thinking man to solve the problem pre- sented by English social existence for himself. Why are the work- ing classes discontented? what is their condition, economical, moral, in their houses, and in their hearts, as it is in reality, and as they figure it to themselves to be? what do they complain of? what ought they and ought they not to complain of ?these are the questions. In answering the questions, very little aid is to be derived from statistics or tables, for these, observes the author, are like cob- webs, like the sieve of the Daniades, beautifully reticulated, orderly to look upon, but hold no conclusion. After all the statistical state- ments which have been published in respect to the condition of the working classes, one must trust his own eyes as to whether it has ad- vanced. Statements of that sort include but a small portion of what constitutes the well being of a man. The laborers feelings, his at- tainments, his social position, his habits, his means of enjoyment, and a thousand other things, necessary to be taken into consideration in estimating his happiness, cannot be set down in figures. Even with the largest amount of wages, his discontent and real misery may be great; instead of accumulating he may be sinking money; day by day, drawing nearer to the lowest point of destitution, or strengthen-. ing habits of unthrift and debauchery. Meanwhile, it requires no statistics to show that the government has done little or nothing to inform itself in these matters, or to lessen the sum of general discon- tent and suffering. To read the reports of the Poor Law Commis- sioners, one would think that it had done everything, but in reality it has done nothing, unless it were to proclaim, what was long since de- clared, that he that will not work shall not eat. A good principle were it rigidly applied to all classes of society, and not confined merely to the manual worker. But there is a higher questioncan the poor manual worker always find work? with a willingness to la- bor, can he always procure employment? This, Legislation answers in the affirmative, but fact too often answers in the negative. Com- petition, reduced to its extreme limits by the shoals of half starving workmen spawned upon England from the neighboring island, brings the English laborer to a state of idleness and misery~ Says the author, There is one fact which Statistic Science has communicated~ and most astonish- ing one; the inference from which is pregnant as to this matter. Ireland has near seven millions of working people, the third unit of whom, it appears by Statistic 1840.] Carlyles Chartism. 17 Science, has not for thirty weeks each year as many third-rate potatoes as will suf- fice him. It is a fact perhaps the most eloquent that was ever written down in any language, at any date of the worlds history. Was change and reformation needed in Ireland Has Ireland been governed and guided in a a wise and loving man- ner A government and guidance of white European men which has issued in perennial hunger of potatoes to the third man extantought to drop a veil over its face, and walk out of court under conduct of proper officers; saying no word; ex- pecting now of a surety sentence either to change or die. All men, we must repeat, were made by God, and have immortal souls in them. The Sanspotatoe is of the selfsame stuff as the superfinest Lord Lieutenant. Not an individual Sanspotatoe human scarecrow but had a life given him out of Heaven, with eternities depend- ing on it; for once and no second time. With immensities in him, over him, and round him; with feelings which a Shakspeares speech would not utter; with de- sires illimitable as the Autocrats of all the Russias! Him various thrice-honored persons, things and institutions have long been teaching, long been guiding, govern- ing: and it is to perpetual scarcity of third-rate potatoes, and to what depends thereon, that he has been taught and guided. Figure thyself, 0 high-minded, clear- headed, clean-burnished reader, clapt by enchantment intp the torn coat and waste hunger-lair of that same root-devouring brother man! But the thing we had to state here was our inference from that mournful fact of the third Sanspotatoecoupled with this other well-known fact that the Irish speak a partially intelligible dialect of English, and their fare across by steam is four-pence sterling! Crowds of miserable Irish darken all our towns. The wild Milesian features, looking false ingenuity, restlessness, unreason, misery, and mockery, salute you on all highways and byways. The English coachman, as he whirls past, lashes the Milesian with his whip, curses him with his tongue; the Milesian is holding out his hat to beg. He is the sorest evil this country has to strive with. In his rags and laughing savagery, he is there to undertake all work that ~an be done by mere strength of hand and back; for wages that will purchase him potatoes. He needs only salt for condiment; he lodges to his mind in any pighutch or doghutch, roosts in outhouses; and wears a suit of tatters, the getting off and on of which is said to be a difficult operation, transacted only in festivals and the hightides of the calender. The Saxon man, if he cannot work on these terms, finds no work. He too may be ignorant; but he has not sunk from decent manhood to squalidapehood: he cannot continue here. American forests lie un- tilled across the ocean; the uncivilized Irishman, not by his strength but by the opposite of strength, drives out the Saxon native, takes possession in his room. There abides he, in his squalor and unreason, in his falsity and drunken violence, as the ready-made nucleus of degradation and disorder. Whosoever struggles, swimming with difficulty, may now find an example how the human being can exist not swimming but sunk. Let him sink; he is not the worst of men; not worse than this man. We have qualantines against pestilence; but there is no pestilence like that; and against it what quarantine is possible It is lamentable to look upon. This soil of Britain, these Saxon men have cleared it, made it arable, fertile, and a home for them; they and their fathers have done that. Under the sky there exists no force of men whom with arms these Saxons would not seize, in their grim way, and fling (Heavens justice and their Saxon humor aiding them) swiftly into the sea. But behold, a force of men armed only with rags, ignorance, and naked- ness; and the Saxon owners, paralyzed by invisible magic of paper fornular, have to fly far, and hide themselves in Transatlantic forests. Irish repeal l Would to God, as Dutch William said, You were King of Ireland, and could take your- self and it three thousand miles off,there to repeal it! And yet these poor Celtiberian Irish brothers, what can they help it? They cannot stay at home, and starve. It is just and natural that they come hither as a curse to us. Alas, for them too it is not a luxury. It is not a straight or joyful VOL. VIII. NO. XXXI.JTJLY, 1840. B 18 Carlyles Chartism. [July, way of avenging their sore wrongs this; but a most sad circuitous & ne. Yet a way it is, and an effectual way. The time has come when the Irish population must either be improved a little, or else exterminated. Plausible management, adapted to this hollow outcry or to that, will no longer do; it must be management ground- ed on sincerity and fact, to which the truth of things ~vi1l respondby an actual beginning of improvement to these wretched brother-men. In a state of perennial ultra-savage famine, in the midst of civilization, they cannot continue. For that the Saxon British will ever submit to sink along with them to such a state, we as- suine as impossible. There is in these latter, thank God, an ingenuity which is not false ; a methodic spirit, of insight, of perseverant well-doing; a rationality and veracity which Nature with her truth does not disown ;withal there is a Berserkir- rage in the heart of them, which will prefer allthings, including destruction and self-destruction, to that. Let no man awaken it, this same Berserkirrage! Deep- hidden it lies, far down in the centre, like genial ceuttal-fire, with stratum after stratum of arrangement, traditionary method, composed productiveness, all built above it, vivified and rendered fertile by it: justice, clearness, silence, perseverance, unhasting unresting diligence, hatred of disorder, hatred of injustice, which is the worst disorder, characterize this people; their inward fire we say, as all such fire should be, is hidden at the centre. Deep-hidden; but awakenable, but immeasu- rable ;let no man awaken it! With this strong silent people have the noisy vehe- ment Irish now at length got common cause made. Ireland, now for the first time in such strange circuitous way, does find itself embarked in the same boat with Eng- land, to sail together; the wretchedness of Ireland, slowly but inevitably, has crept over to us, and become our own wretchedness. The Irish population must get it- self redressed and saved, for the sake of the English if for nothing else. Alas, that it should, on both sides, be poor toiling men that pay the smart for unruly Striguls, Henrys, Macdermots, and ODonoghues! The strong have eaten sour grapes, and the teeth of the weak are set on edge. Curses, says the Proverb, are like chick- ens, they return always home. This is the consequence of the injustice of England, who is now reaping the bitter fruits of her fifteen generations of wrong-doing. It is evident, then, to whoever will look into the matter, that the condition of the English laborer approximates more closely to that of the Irish brought in competition with him; and that whatever labor, to which strength with little skill will suffice, is to be done, must be done at the Irish and not the English price. It is, therefore, not difficult to believe tJlat there are in England half a million of hand- loom ~veavers, working fifteen hours a day, and yet unable to procure a sufficiency of the coarsest food; or that laborers upon farms, in a country of paper-money pric es, are working for nine or seven shillings per week, and that other laborers, in districts the half of whose hus- bandry is cows, taste no milk, and can procure no milk. Nor is the suffering confined to the lower classes of workmen, to the unskilled millions who have nothing to depend upon but their muscles, and who are most likely to be affected by the slightest changes in the de- mand for labor. Mr. Carlyle tells us that the best paid laborers are those who are most frequently engaged in the popular disturbances. So much caA observation altogether unstatistic, looking only at a Drogheda or Dublin steamboat, ascertain for itself. Another thing, likewise ascertainable on this vast obscure matter, excites a superficial surprise, but only a superficial one: That it is the best paid workmen who, by strikes, trades-unions, Chartism, and 1840.] Cc& lyles Chartism. 19 the like, complain most. No doubt of it! The best-paid workmen are they alone that can so complain! How shall he, the handloom weaver, who in the day that is passing over him has to find food for the day, strike work If he strike work, he starves within the week. He is past complaint !The fact itself, however, is one which, if we consider it, leads us into still deeper regions of the malady. Wages, it would appear, are no index of well-being to the working man: without proper wages there can be no well-being: but with them also there maybe none. Wages of working men differ greatly in different quarters of this country: according to the researches or the guess of Mr. Symmons, an intelligent humane inquirer, they vary in the ratio of not less than three to one. Cotton-spinners, as we learn, are generally well paid, while employed; their wages, one week with another, wives and children all working, amount to sums which, if well laid out, were fully adequate to comfort- able living. And yet, alas, there seems little question that reasonable well-being is as much a stranger in their households as in any. At the cold hearth of the ever- toiling, ever-hungering weaver, dwells at least some equability, fixatifin as if in pe- rennial ice: hope never comes; but also irregular impatience is absent. Of outward things these others have or might have enough, but of all inward things there is the fatallest lack. Economy does not exist among them; their trade now in plethoric prosperity, anon extenuated into inanition and Short-time, is of the nature of gambling; they live by it like gamblers, now in luxurious superfluity, now in starva- tion. Black mutinous discontent devours them; simply the miserablest feeling, that can inhabit the heart of man. English commerce, with its world-wide convul- sive fluctuations, with its immeasurable Proteus steam-diemon, makes all paths uncertain for them, all life a bewilderment; sobriety, steadfastness, peaceable con- tinuance, the first blessing of man, are not theirs. ~ It is in Glasgow among that class of operatives that Number 60, in his dark~ room, pays down the price of blood. Be it with reason or with unreason, too surely they do in verity find the time all out of joint; this world for them no home, but a dingy prison-house, of reckless unthrift, rebellion, rancor, indignation against them- selves and agaisst all men. Is it a green flowery world, with azure everlasting sky stretched over it, the work and government of a God; or a murky-simmering Tophet, of copperas-fumes, cotton-fuz, gin-riot, wrath and toil, created by a dnmori governed by a IDnmon The sum of their wretchedness, merited and unmerited welters, huge, dark and baleful, like a Dantean Hell, visible there in the staticts of Gin: justly named the most authentic incarnation of the Infernal Principle in our times, too indisputable an incarnation; Gin the black throat into which wretched- ness of every sort consummating itself by calling on delirium to help it, whirls down; abdication of the power to think or resolve, as too painful now,. on the part of men whose lot of all others would require thought and resolution; liquid madness sold at ten-pence the quartern, all the products of which are and must be, like its origin, mad, miserable, ruinous, and that only ! If from this black unluminous unheeded inferno, and prison-house of souls in pain, there were to flash up, from time to time, some dismal wide-spread glare of Chartisin or the like, notable to all, claiming remedy from allare we to regard it as more baleful than the quiet state, or rather as not so baleful I Ireland is in chronic atrophy these five ce~nturies; the disease of nobler England, identified now with that of Ireland, becomes acute, has crisis, and will be cured or kill. But after all it is, perhaps, not so much the actual suffering, inflict- ed upon the working classes, which so strongly moves them, as the felt injustice of most of the arrangements of society. It is that feel- ing of wrong which is more insupportable than even death itself. The English people look around them, and find that they are not in that position to which they are of right entitled, they find themselves the 20 Carlyles Chartism. (July, victims of laws operating unequally, of institutions, made not to pro- tect but to oppress them, and with that keen sense of right so deeply implanted in the human heart, are for ever protesting against the un- natural state to which they have been confined. On this point, the subjoined extract is full of meaning: It is not what a man outwardly has or wants that constitutes the happiness or misery of him. Nakedness, hunger, distress of all kinds, death itself have been cheerfully suffered, when the heart was right. It is the feeling of injustice that is insupportable to all men. The brutallest black African cannot bear that he should be used unjustly. No man can bear it, or ought to bear it. A deeper law than any whatsoever, a law written direct by the hand of God in the inmost being of man, incessantly protests against it. What is injustice Another name for disorder, for unveracity, unreality; a thing which veracious created Nature, even because it is not chaos and a waste-whirling baseless phantasm, rejects and disowns. It is not the outward pain of injustice; that, were it even the flaying of the back with knotted scourges, the severing of the head with guillotines, is com- paratively a small matter. The real smart is the souls pain and stigma, the hurt in- flicted on the moral self. The rudest clown must draw himself up into attitude of battle, and resistance to the death, if such be offered him. He cannot live under it; his own soul aloud, and all the universe with silent continual beckonings, says it cannot be. He must revenge himself; revanclzer himself~ make himself good again that so meum may be mine, tuum thine, and each party standing clear on his o~vn basis, order be restored. There is sometning infinitely respectable in this, and we may say universally respected; it is the common stamp of manhood vindicating it- self in all of us, the basis of whatever is worthy in all of us, and through superficial diversities, the same in all. As disorder, insane by the nature of it, is the hatefulest of things to man, who livcs by sanity and order, so injustice is the worst evil, some call it the only evil, in this world. All men submit to toil, to disappointment, to unhappiness; it is their lot here; but in all hearts, inextinguishable by sceptic logic, by sorrow, perversion, or despair itself, there is a small still voice intimating that it is not the final lot that wild, waste, incoherent as it looks, a God presides over it; that it is not an injustice but a justice. Force itself, the hopelessness of resistance, has do~ibtless a composing effect ;against inanimate Simooms, and much other infliction of the like sort, we have found it suffice to produce complete composure. Yet one would say, a permanent injustice even from an Infinite Power would prove unendurable by men. If men had lost belief in a God, their only resource against a blind No-God, of Necessity and Mechanism, that held them like a hideous World-Steamengine, like a hideous Phalaris Bull, imprisoned in its own iron belly, would be, with or without hope, revolt. They could, as Novalis says, by a simultaneous universal act of suicide, depart out of the World-Steamengine; and end, if not in victory, yet in invincibility, and unsubduable protest that such World-Steamengine was a failure and a stupidity. It is this injustice, or rather this infidelity to nature and truth, which forms the single intolerable evil of the English people, and which causes their sense of it to manifest itself in wild revolts and conflagra- tions. It has expelled from their breasts their customary loyal obedience to those placed above them; it has superinduced a decay of religious faith, and filled them with a virulent revengeful humor against their upper classes. Their conviction is hourly growing deeper that they are unfairly dealt with, and that their position in society is de 1840.] Carlyles Ck~rtism. 21 termined not by right but by necessity and force. r~ he unquiet bitter feeling which is spreading among them is the same which a few years back gave ,bfrth to that frightful explosion of all the social ele- ments, the French Revolution. With whatever horror we regard that event, says our author, it has come to be granted that there were many meanings in it, but this meaning as the ground of all; that it was the revolt of the oppressed lower classes against the oppressing or neglecting upper classes; not a French revolt only; but a Euro- pean revolt, full of stern monition to all European nations. These Chartisms, he adds, Radicalisms, Reform Bill, Tithe Bill, and in- finite other discrepancy, and acrid argument and jargon that there is yet to be, are our French Revolution. God grant, that we with our better methods may be able to transact it with argument alone. The French Revolution, now that we have sufficiently execrated its horrors and crimes, is found to have had withal a great meaning in it. As indeed, what great thing ever happened in this world, a world understood always to he made and governed by a Providence and Wisdom, not by an Unwisdom, without meaning somewhat It was a tolerably audible voice of proclamation, and universal oyez; to all people, this of three-and-twenty years close fighting, sieging, conflagrating, with a million or two of men shot dead: the world ought to know by this time that it was verily meant in earnest, that same phenomenon, and had its own reasons for appearing there! Which, accordingly, the world begins now to do. The French Revolution is seen, or begins everywhere to be seen, as the cro~vning phenomenon of our modem time; the inevitable stern end of much; the fearful, but also wonderful, indispensable and sternly beneficent beginning of much. He who would understand the struggling convulsive unrest of European society, in any and every country, at this day, may read it in broad glaring lines there, in that the most con- vulsive phenomenon of the last thousand years. Europe lay pining, obstructed, moribund; quack-ridden, hag-riddenis there a hag, or spectre of the Pit, so bale- ful, hideous as your accredited quack, were he never so close-shaven, mild-spoken, plausible to himself and others l Quack-ridden; in that one word lies all misery ~vhatsoever. Speciosity in all departments usurps the place of reality, thrusts re- ality away; instead of performance, there is appearance of performance. The quack is a falsehood incarnate; and steaks, and makes, and does mere falsehoods, which Nature with her veracity has to disown. As chief priest, as chief governor, he stands there, entrusted with much. The husbandman of Times Seedfield; he is the worlds hired sower, hired and solemnly appointed to sow the kind true earth with wheat this year, that next year all men may have bread. He, miserable mor- tal, deceiving and self-deceiving, sows it, as we said, not with corn but with chaff; the world nothing doubting, harrows it in, pays him his wages, dismisses him with blessing, andnext year there has no corn sprung. Nature has disowned the chaff, declined growing chaff, and behold now there is no bread! It becomes necessary, in such case, to do several things; not soft things some of them, but hard. These are the fearful processes, the author proceeds to argue, by which man establishes not so much his rights as his mights. What is meant by this distinction, we may observe by the way, passes our understanding. It occurs in his history of the French Revolution, as well as in this work, but the precise force of it we have not been able to ascertain. That he does not deny the doctrine of human rights is evident from all his writings, though he says they are little worth as- 22 Carlyies Chartism. [July7 certaining in comparison with the mights of man, that they vary not a little according to place and time, that they depend very much upon what a mans coavictions of them are, and that the accurate final rights of man lie in the far depths of the ideal. Of all which we have not the remotest conception. He adds: And yet that there is verily a rights of man let no mortal doubt. An ideal of right does dwell in all men, in all arrangements, pactions and procedures of men: it is to this ideal of right, more and more developing itself as it is more and more approximated to, that human society for ever tends and struggles. We say also that any given thing either is unjust or else just; however obscure the arguings and strugglings on it be, the thing is itself in there as it lies, infallihly enough, is the one or the other. To which let us add only this, last article of faith, the alpha and omega of all faith among men, That nothing which is unjust can hope to continue in this world. A faith true in all times, more or less forgotten in most, but altogether frightfully brought to remembrance again in ours! Lyons fusilladings, Nantes noyadings, reigns of terror, and such other universal battle-thunder and explosion; these, if we will understand them, were but a new irrefragable preaching abroad of that. It would appear that Speciosities which are not realities cannot any longer inhabit this world. It would appear that the unjust thing has no friend in the Heaven, and a majority against it on the earth; nay, that it has at bottom all men for its enemies ; that it may take shelter in this fallacy and then in that, but will be hunted from fallacy to fallacy till it find no fallacy to shelter in any more, but must march and go elsewhither ;that, in a word, it ought to prepare incessantly for - decent departure, before indecent departure, ignominious drumming out, nay, savage smiting out and burning out, overtake it! Alas, was that such new tidings Is it not from of old indubitable, that untruth, injustice which is but acted untruth, has no power to continue in this true universe of ours The tidings was world-old, or older, as old as the Fall of Lucifer: and yet in that epoch unhappily it was new tidings, unexpected, incredible; and there had to be such earthquakes and shakings of the nations before it could be listened to, and laid to heart even slightly ! Let us lay it to heart, let us know it well, that new shakings be not needed. Known and laid to heart it must everywhere be, beforce peace can pretend to come. This seems to us the secret of our convulsed era; this which is so easily written, which is and has been and will be so hard to bring to pass. All true men, high and low, each in his sphere, are consciously or unconsciously bringing it to pass; all false and half- true men are fruitlessly spending themselves to hinder it from coming to pass. In these extracts our readers are furnished with Mr. Carlyles view of the nature of the complaints of the English people, with glimpses as to their causes, and the probability of their leading to terrible revo- lutions. In the remaining portion of the book, he sets about consider- ing in the same immethodical but impressive manner the remedies for such deep-seated and wide-spread discontent. His first inference from all the facts, is that the doctrine of Laissez-Faire, or let alone is no longer of possible application in England; that the working classes cannot get on without actual governmentthat the church and the aristocracy must teach and guide them, since democracy, to which all things seem to be tending more or less rapidly, is the mere abdication of government, which will not do, as matters now are, with the abused, ignorant and tumultuous populace. Lest we may be sup- posed to have mistaken Mr. Carlyle in the utterance of these extra- 1840.J Carlyles Ckartism. 23 ordinary opinions, we shall give his own words. One inference, says he, inclusive of all, shall content us here; that Laissez-Faire has as good as done its part in a great many provinces, that in the province of the working classes, Laissez-Faire having passed its new poor law, has reached the suicidal point, and now, as feb de se lies dying there, in torch-light meetings and such like. Again, speak- ing of democracy, he observes, that in what is called self-govern- ment of the multitude by the multitude, can be no finality; that with the completest winning of democracy is nothing won, except empt~i- ness and the free chance to win. Democracy is, by the nature of it, a self-cancelling business, and gives in the long run a net result of zero. Democracy never yet, that we heard of, was able to accom- plish much work beyond that same cancelling of itself. Democra- cy, take it where you will, in our Europe is found but as a regulated method of rebellion and abrogation; it abrogates the old arrangement of things, and leaves, as we say, zero and vacuity for the institution of a new arrangement. It is the consummation of no-government and Laissez-Faire. Not towards the impossibility, self-government of a multitude by a multitude; but towards some possibility, govern- ment by the wisest, does bewildered Europe struggle. The blessed- est possibility, not misgovernment, not Laissez-Faire, but veritable government. Cannot we discern too, across all democratic turbu- lence, clattering of ballot-boxes and infinite sorrowful jangle, needful or not, that this at bottom is the wish and prayer of all human hearts, everywhere and at all times: Give me a leader; a true leader, not a false sham-leader; a true leader, that he may guide me on the true way, that I may be loyal to him, that I may swear fealty to him and follow him, and feel that it is well with me! Reserving to another place the remarks which readily suggest themselves on this topic, we proceed to give what the author thinks should be done in the premises. His great complaint is that England, with a church richly endowed, well appointed with the means of in- struction, old, venerable, wealthy, and conspicuous in its professions of attachment to the spiritual and moral welfare of mankind; with an aristocracy abounding in commercial and landed wealth, enlightened, refined, powerful, secure in its place, controlling the law-making and the law-administering functions of the nation; with every inducement to a careur of active benevolence, and every facility in its execution; has turned a deaf ear to the cries of the great toiling mass, crying with inarticulate cries as of a dumb creature in rage or pain. Not even as in the old feudal days have the nobility discharged their du- ties towards the dependent lower classes. Then there was some bond of union between the two, some reciprocity of feeling, some mutual acts of kindness, and something like a recognition of their re- spective duties and rights. But now there is neither guidance on the one hand, nor submission on the other, but contempt supplanting friend- 24 Carlyles Chartism. [July, liness, and jealousy and hatred succeeding to feelings of loyalty and love. A petition is ascending constantly from the depths of society, Guide us, govern us, we are mad and miserable, but no ear is turned, and no hand is moved by the frivolous and superficial nobility, who have the wish without the ability to govern. What they should do, Mr. Carlyle, in answer to the supposed inquiry of the practical man, declares: To the practical man, therefore, we will repeat that he has, as the first thing he can do, to gird himsef up for actual doing; to know well that he is either there to do, or not there at all. Once rightly girded up, how many things will present them- selves as doable which now are not attemptible! Two things, great things, dwell, for the last ten years, in all thinking heads in England; and are hovering, of late, even on the tongues of not a few. With a word on each of these, we will dismiss the practical man, and right gladly take ourselves into obscurity and silence again. universal education is the first great thing we mean; general emigration is the second. Who would suppose that education were a thing which had to be advocated on the ground of local expediency, or indeed on any ground? As if it stood not on the basis of everlasting duty, as a prime necessity of man. It is a thing that should need no advocating; much as it does actually need. To impart the gift of thinking to those who cannot think, and yet who could in that case think; this, one would imagine, was the first function a government had to set about discharging. Were it not a cruel thing to see, in any province of an empire, the inhabitants living all mu- tilated in their limbs, each strong man with his right.arin lamed I How much crueller to find the strong soul, with its eyes still sealed, its eyes extinct so that it sees not! Light has come into the world, but to this poor peasant it come in vain. For six thousand years the Sons of Adam, in ideepless effort, have been devising, doing, discovering; in mysterious infinite indissoluble communion, warring, a little band of brothers, against the great black empire of Necessity and Night; they have accomplished such a conquest and conquests: and to this man it is all as if it had not been. The four and twenty letters of the alphabet are still Runic enigmas to him. He passes by on the other side: and that great Spiritual Kingdom, the toil- won conquest of his own brothers, all that his brothers have conquered, is a thing non.extant for him. An invisible empire; he knows it not, suspects it not. And is it not his withal; the conquest of his own brothers, the lawfully acquired posses- sion of all men I Baleful enchantment lies over him, from generation to generation; he knows not that such an empire is~ his, that such an empire is at all. 0, what are bills of rights, emancipations of black slaves into black apprentices, lawsuits in chancery for some short usufruct of a bit of land? The grand seedfleld of Time is this mans, and you give it him not. Times seedfield, which includes the earth and all her seedfields and pearl.oceans, nay, her sowers too and pearl.divers, all that was wise and heroic and victorious here below; of which the Earths centuries are but as furrows, for it stretches forth from the beginning onward even unto this day! My inheritance, how lordly wide and fair; Time is my fair seedfield, to Time Im heir! Heavier wrong is not done under the sun. It lasts from year to year, from century to century; the blinded sire slaves himself out, and leaves a blinded son; and men, made in the image of God, continue as two.legged beasts of labor ;and in the largest empire of the world, it is a debate whether a small fraction of the revenue of one day (~C3O,OOO, it is but that) shall, after thirteen centuries, be laid out on it, or not laid out on it. Have we governors, have we teachers; have we had a church these thirteen hundred years? What is an overseer of souls, an arch- 1840.] Carlyles Cliartism. 25 werseer, Archiepiscopus? Is he something? If so, let him lay his hand on his heart, and say what thing! * * * * * * * But now we have to speak of the second great thing: Emigration. It was said above, all new epochs, so convulsed and tumultuous to look upon, are expansions, increase of faculty not yet organized. It is eminently true of the confusions of this time of ours. Disorganic Manchester afflicts us with its Chartisms; yet is not spinning of. clothes for the naked intrinsically a most blessed thing? Manchester nce organic will bless and not afflict. The confusions, if we would understand them, are at bottom mere increase which we know not yet how to manage; new wealth which the old coffers will not hold. How true is this, above all, of the strange phenomenon called over-population! Over-population is the grand ano- maly, which is bringing all other anomalies to a crisis. Now once more, as at the end of the Roman Empire, a most confused epoch and yet one of the greatest, the Teutonic countries find themselves too full. On a certain western rim of our small Europe, there are more men than were expected. Heaped up against the western - shore there, and for a couple of hundred miles inward, the tide of population swells too high., and confuses itself somewhat ! Over-population? And yet, if this small western rim of Europe is overpeopled, does not everywhere else a whole va- cant earth, as it were, call to us, Come till me, come and reap me! Can it be an evil that in an earth such as ours there should be new men Considered as mer- cantile commodities, as working machines, is there in Birmingham or out of it a machine of such value Good heavens! a white European man, standing on his two legs, with his two five-fingered hands at his shackle-bones, and miraculous head on his shoulders, is worth something considerable, one would say! The stupid black African man brings money in the market; the much stupider four- footed horse brings money it is we that have not yet learned the art of managing our white European man! The controversies on Malthus and the Population Principle, Preventive check, and so forth, with which the public ear has been deafened for a long while1 are indeed sufficiently mournful. Dreary, stolid, (lismal, without hope for this world or the next, is all that of the preventive check and the denial of the preventive check. Anti-Malthusians quoting their Bible against palpable facts, are not a plea- sant spectacle. On the other hand, how often have we read in Malthusian bene~ factors of the species: The working people have their condition in their own hands; let them diminish the supply of laborers, and of course the demand and the remu~ neration will increase! Yes, let them diminish the supply: but who are they? They are twenty-four millions of human individuals scattered over a hundred and eighteen thousand square miles of space and more; weaving, delving, hammering, joinering; each unknown to his neighbor; each distinct within his own skin. They are not a kind of character that can take a resolution, and act on it very readily. Smart Sally in our alley proves all-too fascinating to brisk Tom in yours: can Tom be called on to make pause, and calculate the demand for labor in the British Em pire first? Nay, if Tom did renounce his highest blessedness of life, and struggle and conquer like a Saint Francis of Assisi, what would it profit him or us? Seven millions of the finest peasantry do not renounce, but proceed all the more briskly and with blue-visaged Hibernians instead of fair Saxon Tomsons and Sallysons, the latter end of that country is worse than the beginning. 0, wonderful Malthusian prophets! Milleniums are undoubtedly coming, must come one way or the other but will it be, think you, by twenty millions of working people simultaneously strik- ing work in that department; passing, in universal trades-union1 a resolution not to beget any more till the labor-market become satisfactory? By day and night! they were indeed irresistible so; not to be compelled by law or war; might make their own terms with the richer classes, and defy the world! A shade more rational is that of those other benefactors of the species, who B2 Cai-lyle1s C1iartisrft~ (July1 counsel that in each parish, in some central locality, instead of the parish clergy-~ man, there might be established some I5arish Exterminator; or say a Reservoir of Arsenic, kept up at the public expense, free to all parishioners; for which church the rates probably would not be grudged. Ah, it is bitter jesting on such a subject~ Ones heart is sick to look at the dreary chaos, and valley of Jehosaphat, scattered with the limbs and souls of ones~ fellow-men; and no divine voice, only creaking of hungry vultures, inarticulate bodeful ravens, horn-eyed parrots that do articulate, proclaiming, Let these bones live !Dantes Divina Commedia is called the mourn~ fullest of books: transcendent mistemper of the noblest soul; utterance of a bound-. less, godlike, unspeakable, implacable sotrow and protest against the world. But in Holywell-street, not long ago, we bought, for three-pence, a book still mourn- fuller: the Pamphlet of one Marcus, whom his poor Chartist editor and repub- lisher calls the Demon Author. This Marcus Pamphlet was the book alluded to by Stephens, the Preacher Chartist, in one of his harangues: It proves to be no fable that such a book existed; here it lies~ Printed by John Hill, Black-horse Court, Fleet-street, and now reprinted for the insttuction of the laborer, by Wil- ham Dugdale, Holywell-street, Strand, the exasperated Chartist editor who sell it you for three-pence. We have read Marcus; but his sorrow is not divine. We hoped he would turn out to have been in sport: ah, no, it is grim earnest with him; grim as very death. Marcus is not a demon author at all: he is a benefactor of the species in his own kind; has looked intensely on the worlds woes, from a Benthamee Malthusian ~vatchtower, under a Heaven dead as iron; and does now, with much longwindedness, in a drawling snuffling, circuitous, extremely dull, yet at bottom handfast and positive manner, recommend that all children of working people, after the third, be disposed of by painless extinction. Charcoal-vapor~ and other methods exist. The mothers would consent, might be made to consent. Three children might be left living; or perhaps, for Marcuss calculation~ are not yet perfect, two and a half. There might be beautiful cemeteries with colonnades and flower-pots, in which the patriot infanticide matrons might delight to take their evening walk of contemplation; and reflect what patriotesses they were, what a cheerful flowery world it was. Such is the scheme of Marcus; this is what he, for his share, could devise to heal the worlds woes. A benefactor of the species, clearly recognisable as such: the saddest scientific mortal we have ever in this world fallen in with; sadder even than poetic Dante. His is a no-godlike sorrow; sadder than the godlike. The Chartist editor, dull as he, calls him demon author, and a man set on by the Poor-Law Commissioners. What a black, godless, waste-. struggling world, in this once merry England of ours, do such pamphlets and such editors betoken! Laissez-Faire and Malthus, Malthus and Laissez-Faire; ought not these two at length to part company I ,Might we not hope that both of them has as good as delivered their message now, and were about to go their ways For all this of the painless extinction, and the rest, is in a world where Canadian forests stand unfelled, boundless plains and prairies unbroken with the plough; on the ~vest and on the east, green desert spaces never yet made white with corn; and to the overcrowded little western nook of Europe, our terrestrial planet, nine-tenths of it yet vacant or tenanted by nomades, is still crying, Coma and till me, come and reap me! And in an England with wealth, and means for moving, such as no nation ever before had. With ships; with war-ships rotting idle, which, but bidden move and not rot, might bridge all oceans. With trained men, educated to pen and practice, to administer and act; briefless barristers, ehargeless clergy, taskless scholars, languishing in all court-houses, hiding in oh- scure garrets, besieging all ante-chambers, in passionate want of simply one thing,- work ;with as many half-pay officers of both services wearing themselves down in wretched tedium, as might lead an Emigrant host larger than Xerxes was Laissez-Faire and Malthus positivelymust part company. Is it not as if this swell-. isg,- simmering, never-vesting Europe o.f ours stead once more on the verge of a~ 1840.1 Carlyles Chartism. 27 expansion without parallel; struggling, struggling like a mighty tree again about to burst in the embrace of summer, and shoot forth broad frondent boughs which would fill the whole earth? A disease; but the noblest of allas of her who is in pain and sore travail, but travails that she may be a mother, and say, Behold, there is a new man born! True, thu Gold-Hofrath, exclaims an eloquent satirical German of our acquain- tance, in that strange book of his,* True, thou Gold-Hofrath; too crowded indeed! Meanwhile what portioi of this inconsiderable Terraqeous Globe have ye actually tilled and delved, till it will grow no more? How thick stands your population in the Pampas and Savannas of America; round ancient Carthage, and in the interior of Africa; on both slopes of the Altaic chain, in the central platform of Asia; in Spain, Greece, Turkey, Crim Tartary, the Currah of Kildare? One man, in one year, as I have understood it, if you lend him earth, will feed himself and nine others. Alas, where now are the Hengsts and Alarics of our still glowing, still expanding Europe; who, when their home is now grown too narrow, will enlist and, like firepillars, guide onwards those superfluous masses of indomitable living valor; equipped, not now with the battle-axe and war-charriot, but with the steam-engine and plonghshare? Where are they ?Preserving their Game! Such are Mr. Carlyles specifics for the disease. Our extracts have already extended to such a length as to preclude the comments which, in the outset, we designed to make upon the pregnant text which he has furnished. We cannot, however, refrain from express- ing the opinion, that with his manner of executing it we are in some respects dissatisfied. It is not the book we could have wished to see, nor was Mr Carlyle the man, with his peculiar structure of intellect, vigorous and brilliant as it is, to grapple with so delicate, so compre- hensive, and so momentous a subject. There are many stirring pas- sages, many moving appeals, many bold and striking pictuies in his book, but an entire want of those direct truths and practical sugges- tions, which the circumstances required, and which alone could be of any avail to the immense multitude immediately interested in the dis- cussion of the question. Both in his descriptions of the actual condi- tioii of the British people, and in his recommendation of a remedy, there is an indefiniteness and vague generalizing which leave the mind altogether unsatisfied. We are given to understand that there is a great wrong pervading society, presaging some terrible convul- sion, that it may possibly be meliorated by education and emigration, but as to the exact cause of the wrong, or as to the precise mode of bringing about the remedy, we are vouchsafed not a word. This is - the more to be regretted, because it relates to those points on which especially we desire to be informed. We could have wished that the author had been more specific and detailed in his account of the operation of unjust laws, oppressive institutions, unequal social ar- rangements, and of the influence of a government pervaded in all its departments by a rank spirit of despotism. Above all, we could have wished, that he had more correctly interpreted that vast popular movement which he describes, and which is of such fearful import to * Sartor Resartus, p. 239. 28 Carlyles Citartism. [July, the present peace and security of European society. it is not the mere wail of a poor dumb creature, to be governed, but the first faint moving of myriads of enslaved and debased human spirits, in the pre- paratory struggle of a thorough and universal emancipation. There are, nevertheless, several truths to be gathered from this work which, in their connexion, it is important to note. They have a deep significance to us who watch with almost painful anxiety the labors and throes of the people of the old world. Four things espe- cially are to be remarked of this social phenomenon of Chartism, which at once develope the nature of it, and show in what alternatives it must end. First, there is a radical and wide spread discontent pervading the mass of the British people; second, this discontent arises from no transient cause of uneasiness, but from a permanent knowledge that they are unjustly used; third, the privileged orders, affecting a disregard of it, are taking no care to assuage it; and fourth, the disalTected look for relief, either to an instant reform or to a revolution. Can any doubt, then, that this is a righteous movement,. which must result, sooner or later, but inevitably result, in success? It is just in its causes, noble in its objects; and certain in its ultimate triumph, because impelled by that instinct of self-government, which from the beginning of the English nation, and now in all the nations of Europe, has been and is the occasion and precursor of social and political advancement. Our sympathies are throughout with the Char- tists. As men, we sympathize with them, because they have been grossly wronged, and we are accustomed to let the friendly feelings of our hearts go forth freely toward all who are oppressed. As Americans, we sympathize with them, because they are struggling for those blessings of civil liberty to which we ourselves owe all our happi- ~iess and elevation. As Christians, we sympathize with them, because they would rid themselves of those political disabilities which hinder the free growth and developement of their spiritual nature. If all that they claim were granted they would still be far, very far from even that degree of political illumination which we have attained, and very far, too, from the true social position of man. What they pro- pose is but a single step in the direction of a salutary reform. It is only a continuation of that spirit of change and progress, which, from the days that the barons wrested Magna Charta from King John, to the present day, has been working itself deeper into the structure of English society, and which cannot rest until mountains of abuses are heaved from the giant energies of the people. When we look into the magnitude and number of those abuses, our surprise is, not that the people are dissatisfied, but that they did not long since bury them, even if it were among the ruins of the state, Turn in what direction we may, some foul, glaring, monstrous perversion of justice and truth ~ieets ussome departure from the legitimate functions of govern- pent, some organization for crnshi~g the will of the many, before th 1840.] Carl!,des Chartism. 29 pride or caprice of the few, some apparatus for chaining, tasking, and exhausting the substance of the over-labored and half-fed working- man. We find a court which from its earliest history has been the nest of craft, corruption, and cruelty; a nobility, either rapacious and heartless, or superficial and pretending; a church whose lawns and garments are but the sacred coverings of hypocrisy; a middling class which apes the manners and panders to the depravity of the aristo- cracy; and a system of law, engrafting often the fraud of modern refine- ment upon the injustice of ancient barbarism. The whole is a power of evil, combined to hang burdens upon the limbs and bind chains about the necks of the poor. It is a fell and rapacious coalition, without sympathy, withoutnobleness of feeling, scarcely comprehending the most elemen- tary social duties, and utterly impervious to all the finer convictions which bind man to man. Neither monarch, lords, nor commons, noryet the church, nor that extensive class to be found in every nation, the class of the would-be greater, care one jot for the elevation, the dignity, or the worth of that vast aggregate which makes the mass of the people. They have other objects to look after, and other relations to care for. They are in the midst of a tug and strife for wealth, honor, office, fashion, and the ten thousand petty affairs which absorb the attention of the more heartless dwellers upon earth. They have no time to listen to the complaints of others, to ameliorate their condition, or guide the destinies of a revolution. It is on this account that if any good is done to the multitude they must do it for themselves. The shaping of their destiny is in their own hands. Too long already have they cried to the deaf unheeding upper classes. They have said, we are cold, and their merciless task-masters, for warmth, have cast them into prisons. They have said, we are hungry, and they have been an- swered, eat the dirt. They have said, we are athirst, and they have been told to drink of the standing pool. They have said, we are weary and diseased, and they have been driven to the hulks, or shut up like wild beasts. Is there anything for them to hope from the compassion of those who have no justice? Are they to cry for mercy when all they want is right? Are they longer to beseech t~ body against the flinty casements of whose hearts they have ham- inered in vain for years? That there is any other resort for these poor Chartists than the ap- peal to arms, it would take a long argument to prove. That they might, under certain circumstances, be better men, that they might become imbued with principles of peace, that they might rely for success upon moral means, is true, but that in their present state of degradation and suffering they will bethink themselves of refined notions of right, is not true, nor is it proper to withold our sympathy from those who struggle for a good end, even if they struggle madly. The time for deliberation with most of the Chartists is passed. It is only left for them to act. This is the consciousness which weighs upon every 30 The Mineral Lands of the United States. [July, breast. To desist is death, and to go on is death, and few there be who would not prefer the death by violence, assuaged by the sense that it was provoked in a noble endeavor, to the death by starvation accompanied by the horrid thought that it proceeded from supineness, or cowardice taking the form of prudence~ THE MINERAL LANDS OF THE UNITED STATES.* No nation is, or ever was, situated as regards its public domain, as the United States have been, and now are. The richest Crown Lands of Europe are utterly insignificant, when compared to the vast terri~ tory which has been purchased, and yet remains to be purchased, of the receding and unfortunate Indians. We reckon its extent not by millions, but by hundreds or thousands of millions of acres. It em- braces whole provinceshalf a continent. Had these lands fallen irilo the power of a monarch, instead of becoming the property of a nation, he might, with his limitless wealth, have subjugated the world. As it is, the responsibility of this Union to itself, to posterity, in the manage- ment and disposition of this rich national heritage, is great indeed., Accordingly we find, that the subject of the Public Lands, and the various questions therewith connectedtheir price, their ownership, their settlement, their distributionhave, at all times since the birth of our Republic, engrossed much of the time of Congress, and of the thoughts of the people. But one portion of this important subject has obtained, as yet, little attention. The lands have been regularly surveyed, and have been put up for sale; at first at auction, so that the most valuable tracts might command, under fair competition, a corresponding price; and the rest offered to the people at a rate so low, that a single years saving of an industrious and economical mechanic may place him in possession of a farm and homestead, such as a lifetime of toil might fail, in older countries, to obtain for him. It has been the custom, previously to these public sales, to make certain reservations, chiefly of tracts containing salines; occasionally of lands containing, or rather sup- posed to contain, valuable mineral deposites. But this has been done pretty much at hap-hazardusually from the reports and recommen- dations of the United States Surveyors; and they, not being gene- rally practical geologists, or competent judges of mineral appearances, * Report of a Geological Exploration of part of Iowa, Wisconsin and Illinois, made under instructions from the Secretary of the Treasury of the United States, by David Dale Owen, M. TX, Principal Agent to explore the Mineral Lands of the United States, in the autumn of the year 1839. Printed by order of the Senate of the Unite~1 States.

The Mineral Lands of the United States 30-42

30 The Mineral Lands of the United States. [July, breast. To desist is death, and to go on is death, and few there be who would not prefer the death by violence, assuaged by the sense that it was provoked in a noble endeavor, to the death by starvation accompanied by the horrid thought that it proceeded from supineness, or cowardice taking the form of prudence~ THE MINERAL LANDS OF THE UNITED STATES.* No nation is, or ever was, situated as regards its public domain, as the United States have been, and now are. The richest Crown Lands of Europe are utterly insignificant, when compared to the vast terri~ tory which has been purchased, and yet remains to be purchased, of the receding and unfortunate Indians. We reckon its extent not by millions, but by hundreds or thousands of millions of acres. It em- braces whole provinceshalf a continent. Had these lands fallen irilo the power of a monarch, instead of becoming the property of a nation, he might, with his limitless wealth, have subjugated the world. As it is, the responsibility of this Union to itself, to posterity, in the manage- ment and disposition of this rich national heritage, is great indeed., Accordingly we find, that the subject of the Public Lands, and the various questions therewith connectedtheir price, their ownership, their settlement, their distributionhave, at all times since the birth of our Republic, engrossed much of the time of Congress, and of the thoughts of the people. But one portion of this important subject has obtained, as yet, little attention. The lands have been regularly surveyed, and have been put up for sale; at first at auction, so that the most valuable tracts might command, under fair competition, a corresponding price; and the rest offered to the people at a rate so low, that a single years saving of an industrious and economical mechanic may place him in possession of a farm and homestead, such as a lifetime of toil might fail, in older countries, to obtain for him. It has been the custom, previously to these public sales, to make certain reservations, chiefly of tracts containing salines; occasionally of lands containing, or rather sup- posed to contain, valuable mineral deposites. But this has been done pretty much at hap-hazardusually from the reports and recommen- dations of the United States Surveyors; and they, not being gene- rally practical geologists, or competent judges of mineral appearances, * Report of a Geological Exploration of part of Iowa, Wisconsin and Illinois, made under instructions from the Secretary of the Treasury of the United States, by David Dale Owen, M. TX, Principal Agent to explore the Mineral Lands of the United States, in the autumn of the year 1839. Printed by order of the Senate of the Unite~1 States. 1840.] The Mineral Lands of the United States. 31 nor indeed having the time or opportunity, ever if they had possessed the science, necessary to detect and report the mineral value of the lands they surveyed, were not able to supply to the general land office any trustworthy data, whereupon to found a judicious system of mineral reservations. This hitherto neglected subject appears to have attracted the atten- tion of Congress during its session of 18389. A relution was passed, calling upon the President to cause to be prepared and pre- sented to the next Congress, at an early day, a plan for the sale of the Public Mineral Lands, having reference as well to the amount of revenue to be derived from them and their value as public property, as to the equitable claims of individuals ; and the President was further requested, by the same resolution, to communicate to Con- gress all the information in possession of the Treasury Department relative to the location, value, productiveness, and occupancy of these lands; and also to cause such further information to be collected, and surveys to be made, as may be necessary for these purposes. In accordance with the last clause of the above resolution, Da. DAVID DALE OWEN, of Indiana, who, for two years previously, had received the appointment, and performed the duties, of Geologist of that State, was appointed principal agent to explore the Mineral Lands of the United States, and was instructed to proceed to Iowa, and undertake an exploration of about eleven thousand square miles of territory, lying in nearly equal portions on both sides of the Missis- sippi River, between latitude forty-one and forty-three degrees; commencing at the mouth of Rock River, and extending thence north upwards of a hundred miles, to the Wisconsin River, which discharges itself into the Mississippi immediately below Prairie du Chien. This tract of country nearly equals in extent the State of Maryland. The result of the exploration is embodied in the report of Dr. Owen, a review of which forms the subject of the present article. We have risen from the perusal of that report, strongly impressed as well by the industry and labor which it exhibits as by the scien- tific manner of its execution, and the popular style in which it is written. This, with its great value in other respects, will give it a. high rank in the literature of the science of which it treats, and will secure to its author an enviable reputation. And we were yet more greatly struck by the evidence it lays open, of the inestimable mines of wealth, hitherto hidden and unex~ plored, which the public domain of the United States contains within its confines. Of the nature and extent of the duty required of Dr. Owen, and of the manner in which he proceeded to execute it, an idea may be formed by perusing the following extract from his introductory letter to the Commissioner of the Land Office, prefixed to the report. We believe that a task of similar character, and as comprehensive~ wa~ 32 The Mineral Lands of the United States. [Joly~. never, in the whole history of geology, executed in the same space of time before. After recapitulating the substance of his instructions, which reached him at his residence in Indiana on the 17th of August, 1839, and which required him to complete his survey, before the approaching winter should set in, and to note carefully the result of the examinations of the mineral appearances of each tract of land, its situation in the section, how occupied, and such facts as will serve to convey an idea of its value and productiveness, also to re- port to the General Land Office and to the Register lists of all such lands, from time to time, as fast as he should have completed the ex- aminations of, say from ten to fifteen townships, sufficiently to enable him to certify to the fact, that they do not contain lead, mineral, or salines. Dr. Owen says: After duly weighing the nature of my instructions, estimating the extent of country to be examined, considering the wild unsettled character of a portion of it, and the scanty accommodations it could afford to a numerous party, (which rendered necessary a carefully calculated system of purveyance,) and ascertaining that the winter in that northern region commonly sets in with severity from the 10th to the middle of November, my first impression was, that the duty required of me was impracticable of completion within the given time, even with the liberal permission with regard to force accorded to me in my instructions. Bnt on a more careful review of the means thus placed at my disposal, I finally arrived at the conclusion, that by using diligent exertion, assuming much responsibility, and incurring an ex- pense which I was aware the Department might possibly not have anticipated, I might, in strict accordance with my instructions, if favored by the weather and in other respects, succeed in completing the exploration in the required time. I therefore immediately commenced engaging sub-agents and assistants, and proceeded to St. Louis. There (at my own expense, to be repaid to me out of the per diem of the men employed) I laid in about three thousand dollars worth of pro- visions and camp furniture, including tents, which I caused to be made for the accommodation of the whole expedition and in one month from the day on which I received my commission and instructions, I had reached the mouth of Rock River, engaged one hundred and thirty-nine sub-agents and assistants, instructed my sub- agents in such elementary principles of geology as were necessary to the perfor- niance of the duty required of them, supplied them with ample mineralogical tests, with the application of which they were made acquainted, organized twenty-four working corps, furnished each with skeleton maps of the townships assigned to them for examination, and placed the whole at the points where their labors com- menced, all along the southern line of the westerti hatf of the territory to be ex- amined. Thence the expedition proceeded northward, each corps being required on the average, to overrun and examine thirty quarter sections daily, and to report to my- self, on fixed days, at regular stations; to receive which reports, and to examine the country in person, I crossed the district under examination in an oblique direc- tion eleventimes in the course of the survey. Where appearances of particular intesest presented themselves, I either diverged from my route in order to bestow upon these~ a mose irtinote and thorough examination; or, when time did not per- mit this, I instructed Dr. John Locke, of Cincinnati, (formerly of the Geological Corps of Ohio, and at present Professor of Chemistry in the Medical College of Ohio,) whose valuable services I had been fortunate enough to engage on this expedition, to inspect these in my stead. By the 24th of October the exploration of the Dubuque District was completed, 1840.1 The Mineral Lands of the United States. 33 and the special reports of all the townships therein were despatched to your office and to the register office. On the 14th of November, the survey of the Mi- neral Point District was in a similar manner brought to a close; and by the 24th of November, our labors finally terminated at Stephenson, in Illinois ; the exami- nation of all the lands comprehended in my instructions having been completed in two months and six days from the date of our actual commencement in the field. Also several thousand specimens, some of rare beauty and interest, were collected, arranged, and labelled. The weather was favorable, and the winter did not set in with severity until about a fortnight later than is usual~ in that latitude. Yet the same day on which the survey was completed, a severe snow storm occurred; a gale blew up from the north-west, the thermometer fell to twelve or fourteen degrees below zero, and the expedition could not have continued in the field a single day longer. The results obtained by this extensive survey are as important in an economical point of view, and with reference to the future re- sources of this republic, as they will be interesting to the scientific world. Dr. Owen commences his report by a succinct and lucid explana- tion of the geological character of the district surveyed; to which he has prefixed a few pages of prefatory remarks, explaining, in clear and plain language, and illustrating by several diagrams, just so much of the first principles of geological science as is indispensable to a correct understanding of what follows. We commend his brevity and the popular form into which he has cast these preliminary re- marks. Accurate and solid scientific knowledge is indispensable to execute, with advantage to the public, a task like this: but an affec- tation of learning, wrapping itself up in obscure and verbose techni- calities, is very much out of place in an official report like this; and is not, as we remember to have remarked, at all times avoided on such occasions. Dr. Owen thus concludes this branch of his subject: The general geological character of the country explored may be thus briefly summed up. It belongs to that class of rocks called, by recent geologists, secon- dary, and by others occasionally included in the transition series. It belongs, fur- ther, to a division of this class of rocks, described in Europe as the Moientain Limestone, or sometimes as the carboniferous or metalliferous or encrinital lime- stone. And it belongs, yet more especially, to a sub-division of this group, fenown popularly where it occurs in the west, as the Cliff Limestone, and described under that name by the Geologists of Ohio. This last is the rock formation in which the lead, copper, and zinc of the region under consideration are almost exclusively found; and its unusual developement doubtless much conduces to the extraordina- ry mineral riches of this favored region.~~ The importance of the above investigation appears in a subsequent part of the report. In the chapter on the Lead Mines, Dr. Owen has instituted a careful and interesting comparison between the sur- veyed district and the well known Cross Fell country of the north of England. He shows its close resemblance, both in the character of its rocks and in its geological position, to that celebrated mining dis- trict, the most productive lead region of the known world. The fol- von. viii. NO. xxxi.JULY, 1840. C 34 The Mineral Lands of the United States. [July, lowing passage, quoted by Dr. Owen from an English scientific work. illustrates the importance of the above comparison: England produces annually nearly three times as much lead as all the other countries of Europe put together. The chief mines are in the north of England? in Derbyshire, North Wales, and Devonshire, on the borders of Cornwall. Th great seat of the north of England mines is in that high district, around the moun- tain of Cross Fell, where the counties of Northumberland, Cumberland, West- moreland, the North Riding of Yorkshire, and Durham meet, as it were in a cen- tral point, and from which they radiate. * * * The mines in this part of Eng- land have yielded of late, on an average, about 25,000 tons of lead annually, which is more than one-half the whole produce of Great Britain. Adverting to these statistical facts, Dr. Owen adds: It appears, then, that the north of England lead district produces more tha erie-third of all the lead obtained in Europe. It is, confessedly, the riel~st lea region in the world; unless the Wisconsin lead region may rival and surpass it. I have, for this reason, sought up with care the materials, and here submitted them~ for a comparison between the geological formation of that favored mineral regior in the Old World, and that, not less favored perhaps, to which, in this western portion of the New World, my instructions have directed my attention. The facts yet collected are not, to my mind, of sufficient number and force to authorize a decision that the lead-bearing rock formation of Northern England is identic with that of Wisconsin, in geological position and mineralogical charac- ter; hut it certainly supplies proof, that the resemblance in both respects, but es- pecially in the latter, is close and striking. The chapter on the Statistics of the Lead Mines fully corrobo- rates the inferences in regard to the value and productiveness of this. lead region, which the above comparison suggests. It appears, ac- cording to the reports collected by Dr. Owen from the smelters them- selves, that even under the numerous disadvantages to which thi American lead region has hitherto been subjected, it probably pro- duces, at this moment, nearly as much lead as the whole of Europe, with the exception of Great Britain alone; and that it has indisputable ca- pabilities of producing as much lead as all Europe, Great Brit in in cluded. The vast importance of such facts as these, in a national and com- mercial point of view, requires no comment. Indebted as America now is, probably in the amount of two hundred millions of dollars, chiefly in the shape of state stocks, to Europe, and compelled as she will be to pay a yearly interest on that debt of some ten millions annually to her great creditor, anything which aids in keeping the balance of trade in her favor, should attract the especial notice of the statesman. Every one knows that we have ever imported, and still continue to import, large quantities of lead from Europe. How unnecessary such importation would be, if enterprise were but directed to our own mineral lands, Dr. Owens report well shows. But the lead mines of the district which has been explored, form but a portion of its mineral resources. The chapter on copper ore and the appended analysis proves, that the copper ore of Wisconsin is richer and more valuable than that of Cornwall, the greatest copper l84~5.I The Mineral Lands of the United States. 35 district in Europe or the world: exceeding that ore in its yield by from one-fifteenth to one-third; and that this ore is found in abundance, and can be raised at the same expense per ton as the lead ore. Further the report informs us, that zinc ore, in any desirable quan- tity, and of eRcellent quality, frequently occurs in the fissures along with the lead. From its earthy and porous aspect, resembling the cellular substance of bone, it is familiarly known amdng the miners by the name of dry bones. In regard to this metal, Dr. Owen says: Notwithstanding its intrinsic value, which will, before very long, be duly ap- preciated, it is at present an object of great aversion to the miner of Iowa and Wisconsin. It frequently happens, in both territories, that thelead ore in a fissure gradually diminishes, and eventually is entirely replaced by this zinc ore, or, as the disappointed workman sometimes with a hearty curse, not very scientifically, ex- presses it, the dry bone eats out the mineral. Copper and zinc, it is well known, are the component parts of that important metal, brass. Hence the increased value of these two ores, when they are found, as in Iowa and Wisconsin, in each others vicinity, sometimes in the same mine. Dr. Owen, on this subject, informs us: Large quantities both of copper and zinc are now imported from Europe into the United States to supply the continually increasing demand for brass. It is net improbable that the district now under consideration might furnish of both metals a sufficient amount, at least for many years to come, to .szepply the entire United States with brass of home produce and manufacture. Of zinc, at least, there is assuredly a sufficient supply, not only for that purpose, but also f exportation. All the zinc now produced in Great Britain is trifling in quantity and quite insufficient for the demand; so that a large quantity is imported annually into that island, chiefly from Germany and Belgium. The importation of zinc into England in the year 1833, exceeded six millions and a half of pounds; a fact which may give us an idea of the value of this metal as an article of commerce. In addition to this the report states, that iron ore, equal in quality to the Tennessee ores, is found throughout the district in such quantity, that iron works to any desirable extent might profitably be established there. Upon the whole, Dr. Owen arrives at the conclusion, apparently fully warranted by the facts above stated, that the district he has ex- plored, is ONE OF THE RICHEST MINERAL REGIONS (compared to its extent) YET KNOWN IN THE WORLD. If this is to be considered an earnest of what may yet be found of mineral products in the vast unexplored territory lying west and north from the surveyed tract, it is difficult even vaguely to anticipate the effect which such discoveries may produce on the future commer- cial prosperity and national greatness of America. Wealth, in the~e modern days, is more powerful than the sword; and the original source of all wealth is on the earths surface and in her bosom. Even if such anticipations should not be fully realized, enough is disclosed in the report we are reviewing to satisfy us, and we believe 36 The Mineral Lands of the United Statp~. [July, the public also, of the propriety and importance of prosecuting, without delay, the business of exploration thus successfully commenced. The publication, too, of such official evidence, as this before us, of the mineral resources of America, will incidentally produce an effect which must be very advantageous, as regards the settlement of the public lands in the north-west, by an enterprising and useful class of settlers. Dr. Owens report will doubtless attract the attention of the scientific writers of Europe; and may be the the means of rapidly drawing capital and enterprise from across the Atlantic. This would result, not only in advantage to the country, but also in direct pecu- niary gain to the government, under any plan which may be adopted for the sale of the Mineral Lands. In addition to the important general results here briefly sketched, the report is interspersed with a variety of curious and valuable inci- dental matter, much of itinteresting to the scientific world, and some of it calculated to gratify the general reader. Speaking of the Cliff Limestone, the rock in which the lead of this region occurs, Dr. Owen says: It imparts to any country in which it abounds, a bold and romantic character. I allude to its disposition to cleave vertically and form perpendicular cliffs. These mural escarpments, exhibiting every variety of form, give to the otherwise mono- tonous character of the landscape in Iowt a varied and picturesque appearance. Sometimes they may be seen in the distance, rising from out the rolling hills of the prairie like ruined castles, moss-grown under the hand of time. Sometimes they present, even when more closely inspected, a curious resemblance to turrets and bastions, and even to the loop-holes and embrasures of a regular fortification. Sometimes single blocks are seen jutting forth, not unlike dormant windows, rising through the turf-clad roof of an old cottage; and again, at times, especially along the descending spurs of the hills, insolated masses emerge in a thousand fanciful shapes, in which the imagination readily recognises the appearance of giants, sphinxes, lions and innumerable other fantastic resemblances. The appearance of this rock is further modified by the peculiar manner in which it weathers. Numerous masses of chert, (a variety of flint,) and also many sili- ceous fossils are interspersed through its mass; and these, becoming gradually loos- ened by the action of air and water, drop out, and leave cavities of various shapes and sizes. Thus the rock is frequently found riddled with irregular holes, from a few inches to a foot in diameter, giving its surface a rugged and cavernous appear- ance. Frequently this variety in the composition of the rock gives occasion to an undermining process on the lower surface of the cliff, which gradually proceeds, until, perhaps, a towering and tottering column remains, supported on a contracted base, which threatens every moment to give way, and precipitate the poised mass into the valley beneatL This is graphic; and ia truth we have often been tempted by the descriptions which reach us to visit this romantic prairie wilderness of the west, with its groves tastefully disposed over the landscape, as by the hand of art; its limpid streams fringed even to the waters edge by the rich verdure of the boundless meadows through which they steal, at times hardly visible through the luxuriant herbage which bends and unites over their banks; its magnificent herds of elk tra 1840.] The Mineral Lands of the United States. 37 versing, with their stately pace, as if in military array, these vast plains, while the skulking wolf sneaks through the long prairie grass like the self-convicted culprit of the scene. Then the dusky lines of Indians, their blankets cast fancifully around them, defiling along the narrow, half-hidden trail, soon to leave for ever the beautiful homes of their fathersthe hunting grounds of their tribe in those days long gone by, when the white-skins in their winged canoes had not yet crossed the Great Salt Lake to put out their council-fires, and to wrest from them year by year, and generation after generation, the land which the Great Spirit had given them for a heritage and a dwel- ling place. But we must not suffer our imagination to carry us away from Dr. Owen and his report, and our sober review of it. This is a matter- of-fact world, and a matter-of-fact age, and a matter-of-fact country of ours. Romance is fading away from it as the Red Man disappears. Where Black Hawks council-fires blazed now rises the smoke of the smelters furnace; where the buffalo sunk down, stricken by the old chiefs bone-shod arrow, the miner sinks his shaft, to find richer reward than buffalo meat or buffalo robes. In regard to the richness of that reward, Dr. Owen has some curi- ous facts. He says: One of the most experienced miners and smelters in the District writes to me: Two men can raise something near five hundred pounds from veins of average richness. Two men have raised as much as twenty thousand pounds a day from the richest veins. * * * * * * From a spot of ground not more than fifty yards square, upwards of three mil- lion pounds of ore have been raised. * * * - * * * * The facility with which, in some locations, ore can be raised is remarkable. Two boys of twelve and fourteen years old, were seen by us near Mineral Point, at work with a tiny windlass and bucket. They had earned one hundred and fifty dol- lars in the last six months, though they complained of having had no luck in not striking a productive lode. * * * * * * * On the north-east quarter of section thirty-one of township one, range one east of the principal meridian, two even raised sixteen thousand pounds in a day. On the north-east quarter of section twenty-one and the south-east quarter of section thirty-two, (same township,) two more raise regularly three thousand pounds a day. On the south-west quarter of section thirty-two, (same township,) a lode excavated horizontally from the face of a cliff to a distance of a hundred and fifty yards, yield- ed a million pcnends of ore, which was carried out in wheelbarrows. And on the north-west quarter of section twenty-eight, (still on the same township,) ten million pounds were raised from a single lode, hardly extending across the quarter section. We add another extract, descriptive of a curious natural leaden chamber: In the Spring of 1828, there was a mass of lead ore found in an east and west crevice, at the Vinegar Hill Diggings, about thirty-five feet in length; expanding, in the centre, to the width of six or eight feet, and terminating in a point at each end. It was hollow, and averaged about a foot in thickness; forming, as it were, 38 The Mineral Lands of the United States. [July, a huge shell of mineral. This extraordinary natural chamber was cleared out, a ta- ble spread within it on the Fourth of July ; and a considerable company celebrated the National Anniversary within its leaden walls, about sixtyfeet below the surface of the earth. The interest of the report is much enhanced by its numerous charts, diagrams and other illustrations; some sketches of prairie scenery, some drawings of minerals and fossils, and one representing the inte- rior of a mine, the mode of sinking shafts, of drifting, & c. One of the charts will possess much interest for the scientific world. It ex- hibits, accurately laid down, the boundaries of an immense coal basin, which occupies the greater part of Illinois, about one-third of Indiana, a north-western strip of Kentucky, and occasionally en- croaching beyond the Mississippi, extends a short distance into the State of Missouri and into the Burlington district of Iowa. This gi- gantic coal-field has never been laid down before; indeed no geolo- gist until now has had, we believe, an opportunity of ascertaining its boundaries. Its north-western margin extends over ten or twelve townships of the district surveyed by Dr. Owen, chiefly on the wes- tern side of the Mississippi. From a table compiled by Dr. Owen and appended to the report, it appears, that the proportion of prairie, over the entire district ex- plored, compared to timber, is in the proportion of about three to one. This would be a pretty fair proportion, were it not that about two- thirds of the timber is but of dwarf growth and straggling character, there denominated oak openings; and that, in some localities, es- pecially where copper ore abounds, it is almost wholly deficient. On this important subject of fuel, Dr. Owen says: One of the difficulties which here occurs in reducing the ore, namely, the lack of fuel, is common to the richest copper countries in Europe. The Cornwall cop- per ore is conveyed partly to Swansea and other portions of Wales, and partly to Liverpool, to be smelted in a coal region; and the same vessels which thus convey the less bulky material to the more bulkythe ore to the fuelreturn laden with coal to supply the numerous and powerful steam-eOgin~s required for draining and other purposes, at the Qornwall mines. And thus, in Wisconsin, if copper ore be raised in quantities, it may be necessary to convey it south, to the margin of the great Illinois Coal Fieldsay to the mouth of Rock River. This would require a land-carriage of from ten to thirty miles, and a water-carnage of about one hun- dred. The Cornwall ore is transported to a greater distance than this. In the chapter on coal, Dr. Owen has the following additional re- mark: The coal in this vicinity (mouth of Rock River) is sure to become valuable, and to be in great demand, for the reduction of such ores (especially copper ores) as are raised in those portions of the district which are deficient in timber. Some town in this neighborhood, or a little further south, is destined to become the Swartsetr of Wisconsin; and to receive, in its numerous furnaces, the rich produce of the prairie mines from the north and north-west. Dr. John Locke, of Cincinnati, whom, as our readers have seen by a former extract, Dr. Owen had succeeded in engaging on this ex- pedition, a gentleman of well known reputation in various departments 1840.] The Minera2 Lands of the United States. 39 of natural science, has added much to the value and interest of the report, by his contributions. His instruments, especially for taking magnetical observations, are said to be superior to those of any other experimental philosopher in America. The tables of barometrical observations, from which are calculated the heights, thickness, and dip of strata, are essential to an accurate appreciation of the value of the mineral region. His numerous magnetical observations will be re- ceived by the world of science as an important contribution; and their practical value is well explained by Dr. Owen in the following extract: In Dr. Lockes report, under the head magnetical node, will be found an in- teresting account of a remarkable magnetical phenomenon, which seems to indicate the presence of some enormous mass of iron, or (if the expression be allowed) some subterraneous iron mountain, which may resemble, except in position, that of Missouri. The locality indicated is on the Wapsepinicon, and the axis of the node, as Dr. Lockes chart shows, is near the line dividing townships eighty-two and eighty-three, and about six miles west of the fifth principal meridian. The utility of magnetical observations on the dip and intensity of the needle, as an indication of the presence of protoxide of iron, and perhaps also of great masses of the brown oxide, is undisputed; and I consider myself fortunate in having been ableto add to the other materials, whereby to decide the value of the various locations of mineral lands in this district, the delicate and varied experiments of Dr. Locke. In another portion of his report, Dr. Owen speaks of the experi- ments made to ascertain whether lead, in any quantity, acts upon the needle. I may here add, that it was a matter of much interest, and one which has been fairly and fully tested in the course of this expedition, to decide whether lead, in the greatest masses, exerts any influence upon the needle; and, as a consequent,. whether that metal can be magnetically detected. It was well known that lead, in any ordinary mass, exerts no perceptible infin- ence on the magnetic needle; but it remained to be proved, whether, in the enor- mous quantity existing throughout the lead region of his cousin, it might not act upon instruments of a construction so peculiarly delicate as those employed by Dr., Locke. No appreciable influence, however, was exerted on the needle, even in the heart of one of the richest mines near Dubuque. Dr. Locke has also appended to his report some curious charts of mounds raised in former ages in Iowa and Wisconsin, exhibiting a striking resemblance to animals, and evidently intended to represent them; though the species of animal represented is, by lack of precision in these aboriginal artists, left somewhat doubtful. These mounds were carefully examined and measured by Dr. Locke in his intervals of leisure. On this subject, Dr. Owen says: A portion of Dr. Lockes report, including the interesting chapter on the earth- work antiquities of Wisconsin, however replete with interest to the scientific world, may be considered as touching upon topics, which, according to the strict letter of my instructions, were not embraced therein. In justice to Dr. Locke, to myself, and to the department from which we obtained our commissions, I feel it my duty to state, that these investigations into matters of mere curious research, were made without adding a dollar to the cost, to government, of the expedition. Even the 40 The Mineral Lands of the United States. [July7 magnetical observations, which have a practical bearing, and cannot be considered supererogatory in the geological examination of a mineral region, were made, with. few exceptions, either before the hour when the labor of the day commenced, or by candle-light, when other members of the expedition were wrapped in sleep; or during necessary intervals of rest, when awaiting the reports of a corps, or when unavoidably delayed by any other circumstance. They were not suffered by Dr. Locke to interfere with the other duties intrusted to him, and which he performed as strictly as if these had been his sole avocation. The antiquities were examined, to employ his own words, by an enthusiasm which awoke him in his tent at mid- night, and sent him into the bleak fields on a November morning to finish the ad- measurements of a whole group of figures before the usual time of commencing the labors of the day. Thus Dr. Lockes contributions to abstract science and aboriginal history are tendered to the department and to the conntry as a voluntary offering; which, if not demanded by official requirements, has not been paid for from the public purse. This is the true spirit, of economy at once and of enterprise, which ought to characterize a public officer. We are not among the num- ber of those illiberal souls who grudge a single dollar of public money to advance the interests of science; but yet it would be opening a door to abuse, were public agents to be suffered to travel, at will, out of the record of their instructions, to gratify even a laudable curiosity, at a considerable expense, perhaps, to the department by which they are employed. We should be glad, however, to see reasonable lati- tude permitted, by express instructions, in such an expedition as this, whore the interests of science and of thd public service so nearly coincide, and where, from the nature of that service, experiments and observations of a character most interesting to science may be made at a very trifling addition to the already indispensable expense. This is the more desirable as, in explorations like the present, science is a necessary guide to practical results. From the foregoing observations it will be inferred, that we approve the spirit of the following extract from Dr. Owens Remarks in conclusion : I may remark, that much of what to some may seem abstract scientific re- search was necessary to enable me to make, with judgment and accuracy, exen. those formal and apparently mechanical reports, which were transmitted weekly to the respective land offices, and to the General Land Office at Washington City. To search for, an~1 ascertain the value of, the mineral resources of a country, without strictly examining and defining the character and succession of its geological for- mation, would be like putting to sea without a compass; and in determining that geological character, many things that seem trifles to the uninitiated (the examina- tion of characteristic fossil remains, for example) are of prominent and essential importance. I have endeavored, in the conduct of this expedition, and in the framing of the present report, to preserve a due medium between a latitudinarian construction of my official instructions, involving an expenditure of public funds for objects not contemplated in the original projection of the enterprise, on the one hand; and, on the other, a contracted and illiberal interpretation of the same; an adherence to the latter at expense of the spirit; which saves without economizing, and destroya the very object of such an expedition, by way of curtailing its indispensahle ex- penses. How far I have succeeded in the endeavor, others must judge.. 1S40.] The Mineral Lands of the United States. 41 In an extract already quoted by us, allusion is made to the fact, that several thousand valuable specimens of ores, ore-bearing rocks, fossil remains, soils, & c., were made in the course of the expedition. We heartily concur with Dr. Owens views in regard to the disposi- tion of these specimens, as here given, from his concluding chapter: I trust that I shall not be considered as over-stepping the sphere of my duty, if I suggest the importance, in an economical as well as scientific point of view, of having these specimens arranged in some suitable apartment at the seat of govern- ment, as the nucleus of a National Cabinet. Not only the man of science, but the practical miner, would inspect such a collection with deep interest; and it might be the means at once of gratifying laudable curiosity and of stimulating commer- cial enterprise. I doubt whether any other Geological dabinet, public or private, has its speci- mens located with the same minute accuracy as, from the nature of this survey, I have been enabled to locate these; and it is accuracy of location which gives to all geological and mineralogical specimens their chief value. There is, toward the close of Dr. Owens report, an interesting chapter on the soils of the explored district. Of these Dr. Owen analyzed fifteen specimens; and found them, unlike the soils of most other mineral regions, generally of rich quality. Professor Hitchcock, of Massachusetts, published, in the year 1838, a similar analysis of one hundred and twenty-five specimens of soil, taken as an average throughout that State. Dr. Owen shows, by comparing Professor Hitchcocks table and his own, that the Iowa and Wisconsin soils contain of geine, or organic matter, (the ingredi- ent which chiefly imparts to a soil its fertility,) nearly one-third more than the average per-centage of the soils of Massachusetts. One specimen of rich valley soil, analyzed by Dr. Owen, gave the enor- mous quantity of twenty-six per cent. of organic matter, while the average quantity of organic matter contained in the Massachusetts soils is about seven and a half per cent. It is a curious fact, too, and may lead to important practical conclusions, that, so far as these tables ex- tend, the quantity of organic matter in the soils (consequently their probable fertility) is, almost to mathematical accuracy, in the inverse ratio of their specific gravity. Dr. Owen has also given elaborate analyzes of the various ores, ore-bearing rocks, coal, & c., found over the district. In a word, he seems to have neglected nothing which could furnish to Congress and to the public generally the means of correctly estimating the ex- traordinary resources of the region to which his attention was di- rected. We trust that this expedition will give encouragement to Congress to prosecute with vigor, and under some well-digested system, the work which has been yet but begun. Between the Mississippi and the Pacific what limitless mines of wealth may be hid! A little en- terprise on the part of governmentan expenditure which may be repaid ten times over by the value of the reservations made at the C2 Politzcal Po~traits.No. XIX. [July~ geologists recommendationhow much may thus be effected in bring~ ing to light these hidden mines of wealth, many years, even centuries. before they might be discovered or appreciated without such pioneer explorations! It has occurredto us, that at the same time at which the Public Lands of the United States are surveyed, they might be geologically explored also by attaching to each corps of United States Surveyors a prac- tical geologist. We cannot but think that the expense would he well repaid. A merchantdoes not think of selling his goods until he ha~ ascertained their quality. Ought we not, upon the same principle, take measures for discovering the character and value of our Publi Lands before we bring them into market ~ POLITICAL PORThAITS, WITH PEN AND PENCIL. NO. XIX. BENJAMIN TAPPAN, SENATOR FROM OHIO~ WITH the close of the Democratic State Convention of the 8 h o January, 1836, the Presidential campaign commenced in Ohio with unexampled activity. At this great meeting of the honest yeomanry of the State, he and many of his long tried and experienced associate forewarned the young men that their opponents would make unparal- leled efforts to crush the spirit of democracy, and obtain a triumph for their long cherished principles and policy. He urged upon them to observe that eternal vigilance which is the acknowledged price of liberty, in keeping before the country the great measures for which they were contending, and by no means to allow themselves to be led astray or to wage the contest in defending immaterial issues, and personal questions, involving no higher object than individual prefer- ences for men. He assured them that the known opinions of their favorite candidate would enlist and arouse in opposition to him and them every latent principle and energy of ancient federalism; that Mr. Van Buren7s objections to a paper currency, except for large transactions and mercantile exchanges, his anxious desire to confine banking operations to their appropriate sphere and original functions, and above all, his hostility to the policy which tolerated driving from common use, as the ordinary circulation among farmers and trades- men, the gold and silver coins, by means of small bills, would bring into the service of their enemies elements of warfare and influences, that would operate unseen, but with great power; and that nothing * Concluded from the June Number, Vol. vii, No. xxx, p 562.

Political Portraits with Pen and Pencil. No. XIX. Benjamin Tappan, Senator from Ohio 42-51

Politzcal Po~traits.No. XIX. [July~ geologists recommendationhow much may thus be effected in bring~ ing to light these hidden mines of wealth, many years, even centuries. before they might be discovered or appreciated without such pioneer explorations! It has occurredto us, that at the same time at which the Public Lands of the United States are surveyed, they might be geologically explored also by attaching to each corps of United States Surveyors a prac- tical geologist. We cannot but think that the expense would he well repaid. A merchantdoes not think of selling his goods until he ha~ ascertained their quality. Ought we not, upon the same principle, take measures for discovering the character and value of our Publi Lands before we bring them into market ~ POLITICAL PORThAITS, WITH PEN AND PENCIL. NO. XIX. BENJAMIN TAPPAN, SENATOR FROM OHIO~ WITH the close of the Democratic State Convention of the 8 h o January, 1836, the Presidential campaign commenced in Ohio with unexampled activity. At this great meeting of the honest yeomanry of the State, he and many of his long tried and experienced associate forewarned the young men that their opponents would make unparal- leled efforts to crush the spirit of democracy, and obtain a triumph for their long cherished principles and policy. He urged upon them to observe that eternal vigilance which is the acknowledged price of liberty, in keeping before the country the great measures for which they were contending, and by no means to allow themselves to be led astray or to wage the contest in defending immaterial issues, and personal questions, involving no higher object than individual prefer- ences for men. He assured them that the known opinions of their favorite candidate would enlist and arouse in opposition to him and them every latent principle and energy of ancient federalism; that Mr. Van Buren7s objections to a paper currency, except for large transactions and mercantile exchanges, his anxious desire to confine banking operations to their appropriate sphere and original functions, and above all, his hostility to the policy which tolerated driving from common use, as the ordinary circulation among farmers and trades- men, the gold and silver coins, by means of small bills, would bring into the service of their enemies elements of warfare and influences, that would operate unseen, but with great power; and that nothing * Concluded from the June Number, Vol. vii, No. xxx, p 562. 5840.] Benjamin Tappan. 43 capable of securing a vote, which money or cunning could command, would be left untried. And as President Jackson, with characteristic frankness, had stated in his last annual message, that the great desideratum in modern times, was an efficient check upon the power of the banks, preventing that excessive issue of paper whence arise those fluctuations in the standard of value which render uncertain the ~ewards of labor, it could not be expected that one who stood pledged, by the actions of his whole life, not less than by promises, to faith fully exert his energies to advance an object so noble in itselg and so materially affecting the drones of society who preyed upon industry, and relied upon their skill to make subservient to their support, and luxurious habits of idleness, the proceeds of the toil and sweat of the producing classes, would be met with less than the most gigantic and franctic efforts of a corrupt and powerful opposition; that money and falsehood would be lavished with an unsparing hand, and that avarice and religion would be indiscriminately appealed to, and promiscuously used according to their respective probabilities of becoming most con- ducive to success. Unfortunately for Ohio, to the mortification of her Democratic sons, and much to the dishonor of the State, the result of the controversy more than justified the wisdom of these counsels. Yet the stern virtues of other States secured the triumph of repub- lican principle in the election of one of its most ardent devotees, and though the State was thus temporarily severed from the Democratic fold, and thrown into the clutches of Federal factionists, the example was not profitless. She had fought the great battle against fearful odds. The excessive redundancy of paper money which circulated in the early part of the year eighteen hundred and thirty-six, was greatly reduced by the salutary operation of the Specie Circular~ of July of that year. From the same date for more than eighteen months the western banks were diligently preparing, often without knowing why, for the general destruction of all their credit which occurred in the spring of 1837, by the withdrawal of their specie to meet the foreign demands of ten millions for interest on stocks trans- ferred to Europe by the agency of the United States Bank. Twelve mil- lions of money then became due for a loan made by the same insti- tution the year before, and fifty-six millions of ready debt for an excess of importations which the unnatural facilities caused by bank loans had mainly encouraged our merchants to incur. The prudent foresight of President Jackson could only discover the nature of the unexampled Qperations of the paper system after it was too late to do more than check the progress of the expanding process in mid career, and thus partially break the force of the explosion which he foresaw was coming. The banks of the west had gone too far before July 11th, to leave it within his power to interpose any check that would do more than save them from the general crash like the one which 44 Political Portraits.-No. XIX. [July? followed similar proceedings in 1819. No means at his command were capable of warding off or preventing the convulsion which ushered in the month of May, 1837a convulsion to which there is no resemblance in the history of any other people, and which no nation in an equal state of peace and prosperity can ever experience without first following our example, of substantially surrendering to corporations one of the exclusive attributes of sovereigntythe power to regulate the amount, and consequently the power to regulate the value, of the circulating medium. Aside from the immorality of fur- nishing so prominent an example of violating with impunity all the most sacred obligations of contract, of striking down public confidence, the great bulwark of credit, in a manner scarcely to be exceeded by a blow from the palsying hand of death itself, there were many causes connected with the affair well calculated to embitter the hostility to American Banking, of one who had spent the energies of his whole life in efforts to establish and maintain a currency that would at all times remain an uniform and unchangeable measure of value; among which the most aggravating of all was the fact that the agents most prominent in producing the distress under which the nation groaned in anguish, were, as they had been a few months previous, rallying and concentrating the elements of federal resistance to the salutary work Gf reformation, and furnishing with an unsparing hand funds to be ex- pended in keeping alive the flames of partisan rancor. The diminution in the quantity of their notes in circulation, made by the banks during the preceding Presidential election, either for self- defence or political effectwhich, as ever must be the case with all sudden contractions of the currency, fell first and most heavily upon the laboring and poorer classes of society, reducing their wages~ and driving them from the employment, in numerous instances, neces- sary to secure their daily means of subsistencehad been falsely as- cribed by political bankers to the effects produced by the friendly Specie Circular which saved their mismanaged institutions from a state of hopeless insolvency. Even the natural results of their own enormities were impudently affirmed to be the legitimate consequences of the judicious measures of the Administration, which, as they urged, forced them tyrannically to pursue the course they had taken. Arguments and causes of this nature, and, if possible, others even less plausible, were palmed upon every person whose political pre- judices, or known propensities, afforded a prospect to encourage the hope, that the absurdity would be received for truth, and reason thereby stultified. It was at such a time, and when every species of talent that art or wealth could enlist was put inrequisition to gain credit for the absurdities that all bankers indulge in, and profess to believe, and which, in fact, many are simple enough to actually believe, that the people of Ohio and her sister States were presented with a proposi- tion to establish an Independent Public Treasury, and called upon to Benjamin Tappan. 45 take their stand in favor of or against a thorough and effectual reforma- tion of the abuses of the banking system. To his personal friends, his opinions had been no secret. Nor had his political opponents met with much difficulty in comprehending them. On the refusal of the Steubenville banks to furnish specie for purposes of change, he had volunteered his professional services to prosecute suits before justices of the peace, without fee or reward, on each small note held by a laborer, who should be denied, at the proper counter of the bank, the small change in specie necessary to his convenience in making his purchasers at the market-house; and in near an hundred cases he had made his promise good by successfully conducting such suits. This conduct effected in his own neighborhood the entire expulsion from circulation of that class of small bills which won the distinctive appellation of Shin-plasters, and became in other parts of the Union a source of great public annoyance and individual losses. But it rendered him doubly obnoxious to the hatred of that most puerile of all small factions, the pseudo-democrats who assumed the once hono- rable name of Conservative, and who, for consistencys sake, have since, regardless of former professions, thrown themselves into the arms of their old Federal and National Bank enemies, and sought to propitiate their kindness by out-doing them in abuse of their former friends and principles. The Democratic party of Jefferson County suffered more from the insincerity of such men than fell to the lot of their friends in any other portion of the State, and he felt and urged the importance of speedily unmasking them of their false face of pro- fessed friendship, and compelling them to assume their true position, that of open, undisguised hostility to Democratic men and measures. Having been put in nomination as a candidate for the State Senate by the unanimous suffrages of the convention which met in June pre- ceding, to form a county ticket, the Message of the President delivered to the Extra Session of Congress, in September of this year, furnished him a convenient opportunity to enforce the plan approved by his own judgment, and he embraced it readily, by making known his cordial approval of the proposal to keep safe the public money, without loan- ing or using it between the time of its collection and disbursement in payment of public debts, and forcibly urging the propriety of making such loaning or use penal, and placing it in the same grade and on the same footing as to punishment, with the no more immoral offence of larceny. The justness of the proposal could not be met by fair argument. It was beyond the pale of reason to draw a line of dis- tinction, which should make the voluntary tortious taking and conver- sion to private use of public funds a more heinous offence against morality, than the voluntary taking of it for the same purpose by one who not only had no greater right to it, but who, in addition to the obligations of duty, and his official oath, could only do so by a be- trayal of the kind confidence reposed in him. This course of reason- 46 Political Portraits.No. XIX. [July~, ing roused the bitterest personal feelings of the Conservative faction against him; and although they yet professed to differ with the Ad- ministration only upon this single measure, they united their efforts with the Abolition party and the professed Federalists, and thus suc- ceeded in defeating his election by a few votes. It was good fortune for him and the State, and much to his honor, that the combined forces of the three factions thus blended in one left him under no obligation for even a stray vote. [he result laid broad and deep the foundation for future success, when the time came for Ohio to reassert and suc- cessfully maintain her own principles. It purged the Democratic party of the false-hearted demagogues, that were ever ready in the hour of trial to yield their professed creed to supposed personal in- terest, and to insult public intelligence with a view to screen from public notice their perfidy, by raising a false clamor, and endeavoring to create alarm, under the pretence, that t1~ere existed a concealed design to increase executive patronageto unite in one mans hands the power of the purse and the swordand to make two cur- rencies, a better for the office-holders, while the depreciated paper of the banks was to be forced upon the people. This and similar management by Conservatives in other counties, it is true, gave the legislative and executive power of the State into the hands of the Federalists and money-makers, who did many things well calculated to prejudice the prosperity of the people and jeopardy their happi- ness. They rcpealed the act prohibiting the issue of small billsthe act forbidding agencies, or the establishment of branches of the Penn- sylvania Bank of the United States, or other corporations within the States, unless authorized by law; and they abolished the Board of Public Works, besides passing several other laws manifesting and developing similar notions of public policy and morality. Yet there never was a time when such things could have been done with as little danger of producing lasting injury. There seems to have been a superintending Providence in selecting the time and directing the manner of doing these things. The Pennsylvania Bank of the United States, and all other foreign corporations, were too feeble during the twelve months which succeeded the enactment of these laws, to im- prove the legislative invitation to flood the State with irredeemable papertoo feeble to enter the lists against the business men of small means, and monopolize the flour, pork, and other staple articles of ex- port. The cotton and sugar speculations in Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Florida were still on their hands, and they could not disembarrass themselves of this business which they had entered into the previous year. The newly created Board of Whig Canal Commis- sioners found the eastern money market too close to enable them to plunge the State into an irretrievable debt, and the mismanagement of the local banks had attracted public attention too -strongly in that Airection to leave them the capacity of doing much harm. So that if 1840.] Benjamin Tappan. 47 Ohio needed a temporary subjection to the powers of plutocracy and federalism, in order to arouse her sturdy sons to a more watchful guardianship of her best interests, we can hardly imagine a time less likely to entail lasting injury upon her character and welfare. We have already digressed so far on this theme of deep interest that we must be allowed to add a passing notice of the manner and means by which ultimate good was derived from such untoward pro- ceedings. The domination of party power, the triumph of accidental success, emboldened the federal party to promulge, undisguised and in the simplicity of all their naked deformity, the true objects of their worship. There was no concealment, no taking of shelter behind sense-keepers, no committees to intervene between themselves and the people, and prevent the publication of their doctrinesno pub- lic meeting where dumb shows, badges, flags, mottoes, canoes, and log-cabins, and their appendages, were made to usurp the places of argument, principles, and reason. No, all was frankness and fear- lessness. A currency capable of expansion to-day and contraction to morrow, with a Bank of the United States to control ita high tariW and the privilege of using its proceedsliberal grants of cor- porate monopolies, and a free construction of the Constitution that would justify the making of roads and other local improvements by the General Government, and thereby secure permanent power in federal hands, were wanted and advocated. Without in any degree subtracting from the merits of a host of young men who rushed to the rescue, and made the hills and valleys of the State re-echo to their elo- quent appeals to the intelligence, judgment, and honesty of the people among whom the name of no one would stand more pre-eminently conspicuous than that of his present talented, generous, and noble- hearted colleague in the Senatewe may do him justice for the part he bore in this campaign. Whenever he bad any personal influence he exercised it, and when he had not he procured others to exercise theirs with the Democratic friends who controlled that engine so much dreaded by all evil-doers, the public pressurging upon them to es- chew all minor topics, and boldly present the principles of their oppo- nents, as they stood recorded by the votes and proved by the actions of their legislators, and the messages of their Executiveto contrast them with their own, exposing the errors of the former, making plain the merits of the latterand leaving, as the lawful province of the people, the duty of judging each in their sober unbiassed moments under the auspicious influences of right reason and a love of coun- try. Of the proud example which the Ohio press, acting in accor- dance with these views, gave to the editors of other States in the summer and autumn of I 838, and of the glorious result, it is needless to speak. A law requiring an enlargement of the specie basis of pa- per moneyrestricting the amount to be issuedprohibiting the cir- culation of small billsmaking the individual property of stock-hold- 48 Political Portraits.No. XIX. [July, ers liable for bad managementfixing penalties for refusing specie payment beyond thirty daysa law prohibiting the location within the State, of agencies or branches of corporations over which it had no controland the re-establishment of the Board of Public Works, with several other equally beneficial laws, were among the first fruits of the victory. In September, 1833, on the death of the Honorable John Camp- bell, he was appointed by the President, in the recess of the Senate, Judge of the United States Court for the District of Ohio, an office for which he was in every respect well qualified, and for which he had been strongly recommended, by his Democratic brethren of the barand in the circuit where he first settled and had been longest and best known by every Opposition lawyer, judge, clerk, and sheriff save threeyet the same Senate which rejected the noniinatious of Van Buren and Chief Justice rraney, rejected him, but for what cause the world has yet to learn. The veil of secrecy shrouds the transaction, and it has been left for Ohio to wipe out the stain that it inflicted upon the country, by giving another evidence that republics are not always ungrateful, and by electing him to the equally trust- worthy and honorable station of a seat in that body which rejected him, in place of one of the honorable members who was present when the secret and most iniquitous sentence of condemnation was passed upon him. Of his senatorial conduct we need only observe, that it has been in all respects consistentin accordance with the principles and actions of his whole life, the character of the man, and above all, that it has commanded the approval of the entire Demo- cracy of Ohioand of the Union. The history of the Federal party furnishes few objects of its abuse who have been pnrsued with more untiring and persevering industry than Mr. Tappan. Their conduct has greatly aided in strengthening, and warming the friendship entertained toward him by the Democracy of his adopted State, while it has been provoked with a rare indiffe- rence, and parried with the good-humored philosophy of one who felt the truth of the orthodox sentiment, that the curses of the wicked are an honest mans praise. Unless personal and mailignant, and from a responsible source, he has uniformly treated all their assaults with the sovereign contempt of silence. His imperturbable coolness, self- possession, ready caustic wit, and power to inflict a severe castiga- tion, have in general protected him through a long political life against onsets of the latter character, and the instances are few indeed when an opponent has ventured a second time on the dangerous ground of personal aggression. This disposition to so repel insults as to secure future quiet, and prevent an occasion for a second punishment, though sometimes bearing the appearance of harshness, is the result of a strong conviction, founded upon good sense and experience, that in individual, as in national affairs, the surest preventive of hostility 1840.] Benjamin Tappan. from a foe is to satisfy him in advance, that if provoked, it will only terminate in his own overthrow and disgrace. Few men are more permanent and faithful in their friendships. Political differenQes merely may have often prevented the formation of intimacies, butt were never known on his part to terminate one. At the bar, his in-~ tercourse with his professional brethren was ever kind and encourag~ ing, particularly to young beginnersthose especially who were borne down by the court ot an elder practitioner. Under such circum~ stances, they would seldom find the necessity of courting his aid when present, for, as if impelled by instinct, he would be sure to espouse their cause of his o~vn voluntary impulse~ Many a young man, who has attained tank and character at the bar of Ohio, can recall the hour with grateful remembrance, when but for his timely succor he would have abandoned the profession in disgust, with distrust of his own ability, and with the misanthropic feelings consequent upon dis- couragement and wounded sensibility. In his manners plain and hnosteutatious~ in his expenses frugal without penuriousness, fixed in his principles, he has been placed in no position where his influence has not been felt and appreciated. He has been above the flattery of friends or the abuse of enemies~ The threats of partisans or the corruptions of power wete never known to secure his silence when the land-marks of demQcracy were endan- ge red. The political tenets taught in his youth and approved by his riper judgment, have in him ever found a clear-sighted, firm, and willing advocate. When the spirit of recklessness, fostered by a long unbroken current of fancied prosperity, made inroad upon inroad into the Democratic phalanx, and tore from its embrace many of it~ proud- est ornaments, and the whole country seemed hurled headlong into the wild projects of paper credits, national banks, protective tariffs, and internal improvements, and wild fanaticism reared its hideous head in terror to domestic peace, he stood firm by his principles at the expense of popularity, and was content to wear the name of ultra-radical. And when again under the pinching influences of paper contractions he saw the golden visions of wealth dispelled by splendid poverty or squalid want, and hope struck down in the freshness of the full bbs- som, with friends and neighbors and a whole community roused to a state of phrenzied desperation, threatening destruction alike to the real and fancied authors of their ruin, he stood forth not less firmly to stay the hand of rashness, and avert the mischief of a misguided spirit of revenge. In such seasons as America has witnessed since the begin-~ fling of the successful but before untried experiment of a free repub- lican government, based upon the peoples will and the eternally just doctrines of equal privileges, laws, and honesty, no man who remained at all times and uniformly consistent with himself could expect to be in continued harmony with the opinions of his countrymen: For although the approving judgment of the majority of our people, formed voL. viii. NO. xxxi.JULv, 1840. D 60 Political Portrai(s.No. XIX~ [July, after mature examination, is evidence of ones correctness of the high.- est character~ yet it has been sometimes our misfortune, and is common to all large communities, to be occasionally led astray from the dictates of right reason by fitful gusts of popular error; which few causes more effectually generate than a seeming flow of bounteous prosperity, heaping together in unworthy hands masses of real or apparent wealth without toil or industryand the consequent periodi. cal convulsions and distresses which are but the natural sequences of corporations, stock-jobbing, funded-debts~ the unlimited and uncon-~ trolled power to make paper money. A mans highest praise is to have differed from the multitude many times when their judgments were thus operated upon. It is hishis to have stood the test of these influences with calm stability of pur. posein the sunshine of fancied but unreal prosperity forewarning against the coming of the evil hour, and when overtaken by the tem- pest, cheering the hopes of the unfortunate by pointing to the cause of their misfortune, and giving good counsel respecting the proper remedy. The talented son of Chatham, the proudest of Englands states. men, was laughed at and ridiculed for predicting, that if the Ameri- cans went into their funding systems, and adopted their banking projects of unsub~tantial issues of paper money~ their boasted inde~~ pendence would prove to be the merest phantom; Jefferson for similar sentiments received treatment that an honorable man would tender to none but the veriest of felons; and the patriot Jackson, who had bestowed the best days of his youth and his maturer years in the service of his countrywho had protected by his valor the fire- side of the industrious pioneer from the relentless scalping-knife and brand of the savageand whose efforts to save the Beauty and Booty of one of her fairest cities from the ruthless grasp of foreign invaders, had been crowned with the happiest triumph of success that ever met the approving smile of heavenwas stigmatized as a tyrant, and compared, in the in2olence of avaricious federal arrogance, to the lowest criminal, to the reprobate counterfeiter. How, then, could he hope to escape who had constantly advocated similar senti-. ments, and with an ability always effective and always annoying to his antagonists? It would have been not less a reproach to have passed the ordeal unnoticed, than it now is cheering to have lived to see the political dogmas of federalism exploded, and shrouded so deeply with popular odium that even its votaries dare not openly de- fend them. The policy of trenching upon the reserved rights of the States to construct turnpikes and other private roads with national fundsof an unequal and oppressive tariff of duties for the protec- tion of local interestsof levying money not demanded for the pub. lie service, to be made a bone of contention, or with which to bribe legislators into voting for partial laws, and indirectly t~ bribe the 1840.] On tile Elevation, 4c. 51 people with moneys wrongfully extorted from their own pocketsthe crude notion that banking capital is national wealththat the multi- plication of paper money is the increase of richesthat a welL or- dered system of credit is dependent upon, and necessarily must be blended with, a reckless, inordinate, uncontrollable power to glut the country with a fictitious circulating medium more subject to ebbs and floods than the ever changing tidesallall have had their day. The fruits they have borne have disrobed them of the sophistries which deluded, and the mysteries which passed for wisdom. Mankind has read the nature of their propensities in the public and private misfor- tunes which they have entailed upon the country and the people. Their true character has been seen in the spirit of recklessness, gam- bling, and dishonesty which they have nurtured, and the mental vision of the political economist, the farmer, and the mechanic, is no longer obscured by these cunningly devised schemes of ingenious juggling. He has the proud triumph of having lived through the time of their origin, progress, power, and, as we trust, their downfallof having in all their phases met them as a determined foe, held them to be intrin- sically incapable of good and dangerously mischievous. Talents that well directed might have been envied, everything that wealth could enlist, have served with devotion in efforts to uphold them; and yet, at last, false cries, alarms, appeals to fear, to prejudice, to avarice and the baser passions, have all been unavailing to prevent the triumph of TRUTH over ERROR. ON THE ELEVATION OF THE LABORING PORTION OP THE COMMUNITY.* SECOND NOTICE. WE gladly return to the task left unfinished in our last Number, of giving such an account of the Lectures referred to at the foot of the p~age, together with the most liberal quotations from them permitted by our limits, as to constitute the best substitute in our power to af- ford to those of our readers to whom their comparatively limited cir- culation must deny access to them. We have no fear that this will supersede the purchase of a single copy, on the part of any who may have the opportunity. To such our limited extracts can only serve to whet the appetite they will not satisfy; while we trust that they will have the effect of inducing many readers to seek to possess the originalof which, indeed, we could most fervently wish to see a * Lectures on the Elevation of the Laboring Portion of the Community. By William E. Channing. Boston: Published by William D. Ticknor, 1840.

On the Elevation of the Laboring Portion of the Community. Second Notice 51-67

1840.] On tile Elevation, 4c. 51 people with moneys wrongfully extorted from their own pocketsthe crude notion that banking capital is national wealththat the multi- plication of paper money is the increase of richesthat a welL or- dered system of credit is dependent upon, and necessarily must be blended with, a reckless, inordinate, uncontrollable power to glut the country with a fictitious circulating medium more subject to ebbs and floods than the ever changing tidesallall have had their day. The fruits they have borne have disrobed them of the sophistries which deluded, and the mysteries which passed for wisdom. Mankind has read the nature of their propensities in the public and private misfor- tunes which they have entailed upon the country and the people. Their true character has been seen in the spirit of recklessness, gam- bling, and dishonesty which they have nurtured, and the mental vision of the political economist, the farmer, and the mechanic, is no longer obscured by these cunningly devised schemes of ingenious juggling. He has the proud triumph of having lived through the time of their origin, progress, power, and, as we trust, their downfallof having in all their phases met them as a determined foe, held them to be intrin- sically incapable of good and dangerously mischievous. Talents that well directed might have been envied, everything that wealth could enlist, have served with devotion in efforts to uphold them; and yet, at last, false cries, alarms, appeals to fear, to prejudice, to avarice and the baser passions, have all been unavailing to prevent the triumph of TRUTH over ERROR. ON THE ELEVATION OF THE LABORING PORTION OP THE COMMUNITY.* SECOND NOTICE. WE gladly return to the task left unfinished in our last Number, of giving such an account of the Lectures referred to at the foot of the p~age, together with the most liberal quotations from them permitted by our limits, as to constitute the best substitute in our power to af- ford to those of our readers to whom their comparatively limited cir- culation must deny access to them. We have no fear that this will supersede the purchase of a single copy, on the part of any who may have the opportunity. To such our limited extracts can only serve to whet the appetite they will not satisfy; while we trust that they will have the effect of inducing many readers to seek to possess the originalof which, indeed, we could most fervently wish to see a * Lectures on the Elevation of the Laboring Portion of the Community. By William E. Channing. Boston: Published by William D. Ticknor, 1840. On the Elevation of the [July. copy in the hands of every one of the mighty mass of millions to whom, as indicated by their title, Dr. Channing has addressed these Lectures. In the first Lecture the question was considered, in what consisted the elevation proposed for the depressed mass of the children of toil. It was shown not to consist in exemption from the necessity of manu- al laborthe beneficial effects of which, on the mental and moral education as well as on the physical developement, when not carried to an exhausting excess, were finely pointed out, as its native dignity was nobly vindicated from the senseless prejudice which an imper- fect and unhealthy civilization has heretofore attached to it. Nor was that elevation to be sought in a participation in the luxurious re- finements and splendors of those classes of society which are actus- tomed to pride themselves in the poor title of its fashionable circles. And equally vain would it be to expect to find it in mere political power, sought and exercised in a monopolizing spirit as a distinct class with presumed interests antagonist to those of other classes. But it was shown to consist in that which can alone raise man from a level not far removed from that of the brute creation, whatever may be his position in our conventional classifications, namely, in eleva- tion of soul, first, through Force of Thought exerted for the acquisition of Truthsecondly, through Force of Pure and Generous Feeling .-~-thirdly, through Force of Moral Purpose. Without this, says Dr. Channing, it matters nothing where a man stands, or what he possesses; and with it, he towers, he is one of Gods nobility, no matter what place he holds in the social scale. There is but one elevation for a laborer and for all other men. There are not diffe- rent kinds of dignity for different orders of men, but one and the same to all. The only elevation of a human being consists in the exer- cise, growth, energy of the higher principles and powers of his soul. A bird may be shot upward to the skies by a foreign force; but it rises, in the true sense of the word, only when it spreads its own wings and soars by its own living power. So a man may be thrust upward into a conspicuous place by outward accidents; but he rises, only in so far as he exerts himself, and expands his best faculties, and ascends by a free effort to a nobler region of thought and action. Such is the elevation I desire for the laborer, and I desire no other. This elevation is indeed to be aided by an improvement of his out- ward condition, and in turn it greatly improves his outward lot; and thus connected, outward good is real and great; but supposing it to exist in separation from inward growth and life, it would be nothing worth, nor would I raise a finger to promote it. The second Lecture considers the objections which are apt to sug~ gest themselves when such views are given of the laborers destiny, together with some of the circumstances of the. times which encou- rage hopes of jts approaching attainment. 1840.1 Laboring Portion of the Community. 53 The objection that ~vill generally first occur to the mind of the la- borer himself, is the fact that he can neither command a variety of books, nor spend much time in reading. Dr. Channing does not un- dervalue the worth of books. Truly, says he, good books are more than mines to those who can understand them. They are the breathings of the great souls of past times. Genius is not embalmed in them, as is sometimes said, but lives in them perpetually. But he proceeds with equal truth We need not many books to answer the great ends of reading. A few are better than many, and a little time given to a faithful study of the few will be enough to quicken thought and enrich the mind. The greatest men have not been book- men. Washington, it has often been said, was no great reader. The learning commonly gathered from books is of less worth than the truths we gain from expe- rience and reflection. Indeed, most of the knowledge from reading in these days, being acquired with little mental action, and seldom or never reflected on and turned to use, is very much a vain show. Events stirring the mind to earnest thought and vigorous application of its resources, do vastly more to elevate the mind, than moat of our studies at the present time. * * * * The great use of books is to rouse us to thought; to turn us to questions which great men have been working on for ages ; to furnish us with materials for the ex- ercise of judgment, imagination, and moral feeling; to breathe into us a moral life from higher spirits than our own; and this benefit of books may be enjoyed by those who have not much time for retired study. It must not be forgotten by those who despair of the laboring classes because they cannot live in libraries, that the highest sources of truth, light, and elevation of mind are not libraries, but our inward and outward experience. Human life, with its joys and sorrows, its burdens and alleviations, its crimes and virtues, its deep wants, its solemn changes, and its retributiQns always pressing on uswhat a library is this l and who may not study it Every hunian being is a volume, worthy to be studied. The books which circulate most freely through the community, are those which give us pictures of human life. 1kw much more improving is the original, did we know how to read it! The laborer has this page always open be- fore him; and, still more, the laborer is every day writing a volume more full of instruction than all human productions; I mean, his own life. No work of the most exalted genius can teach us so much as the revelation of human nature in the secrets of our own souls, in the workings of our own passions, in the opera- Lions of our own intelligence, in the retributions which follow our own good and evil deeds, in the dissatisfaction with the present, in the spontaneous thoughts and aspirations, which form part of every mans biography. The study of our own history from childhood, of all the stages of our developement, of the good and bad influences which have beset us, of our mutations of feeling and purpose, and of the great current which is setting us toward future happiness or wo ; this is a study to make us nobly wise; and who of us has not access to this fountain of eternal truth 1 May not the laborer study and understand the pages which he is writing in his own breast V Against the objection that there exists in the order of Providence a natural aristocracy of intellect designed to monopolize the function of thinking, to the exclusion of the Many whose office in the great social division of labor is manual toil, Dr. Channing thus indignantly protests 54 On 6he Elevation of die [July, I deny to any individual or class this monopely of thought. Who among men can show Gods commission to think for his brethren, to shape passively the intel- lect of the mass, to stamp his own image on them as if they were wax! As well might a few clai~ a monopoly of light and air, of seeing and breathing, as of thought. is not the intellect as universal a gift as the organs of sight and respiration! Is not truth as freely spread abroad as the atmosphere or the suns rays! Can we imagine that Gods highest gifts of intelligence, imagination, and moral power, were bestowed to provide only for animal wants! to be denied the natural means of growth, which is action! to be starved by drudgery! Were the mass of men made to be monsters! to grow only in a few organs and faculties, and to pine away and shrivel in others! or were they made to put forth all the powers of men, espe- daily the best and most distinguishing! No man, not the lowest, is all hands, all bones and muscles. The mind is more essential to human nature, and more endu- ring, than the limbs, and was this made to lie dead! Is not thought the right and duty of all! Is not truth alike precious to all! Is not truth the natural aliment of the mind as plainly as the wholesome grain is of the body! Is not the mind adapted to thought, as plainly as the eye to light, the ear to sound! Who dares to withhold it from its natural action, its natural element and joy! Undoubtedly some men are more gifted than others, and are marked out for more studious lives. But the work of such men is not to do others thinking for them, but to help them te think more vigorously and effectually. Great minds are to make others great. Their superiority is to be used, not to break the multitude to intellectual vassalage, not to estalAish over them a spiritual tyranny, but to rouse them from lethargy and to aid them to judge for themselves. The light and life which spring up in one soul are to be spread far and wide. Of all treasons against humanity, there is no one worse than his who employs great intellectual force to keep down the intellec: of his less favored brother. The commonplace objection of complacent pedantry, that A little learning is a dangerous thing that the mass of the people cannot see to the bottom of anything, and that the result of stimulating them to thought will be the formation of a dangerous set of half-thinkersis summarily disposed of. Whose learning is not little? whose draughts of knowledge are not shallow? Who of us has fathomed the depths of a single product of natnre, or a single event in history? Who of us is not baffled by the mysteries in a grain of sand? How contracted is the range of the widest intellect! The argument, therefore, proves nothing by proving too much, for if valid it shows that none of any class ought to think. I will only add, he concludes, that the laboring class are not now con- demned to draughts of knowledge so shallow as to merit scorn. Many of. them know more of the outward world than all the philoso- phers of antiquity; and Christianity has opened to them mysteries of the spiritual world, which kings and prophets were not privileged to understand. And are they, then, to be doomed to spiritual inaction, as incapable of useful thought ? From Dr. Channings remarks upon the objection which he next considers, we are unwilling to omit any portion: I proceed to another prejudice. It is objected, that the distinction of ranks is essential to social order, and that this will be swept away by calling forth energy of thought ia aU men. This objection, indeed, though exceedingly insisted on in 1840.J Laboring Portion of tAo Community, 55 Europe, has nearly died out here; but still enough of it lingers among us to deserve consideration. I reply, then, that it is a libel on social order to suppose, that it requires for its support the reduction of the multitude of hum an beings to ignorance and servility ; and that it is a libel on the Creator to suppose, that he requires, as the foundation of communities, the systematic depression of the majority of his intelligent offspring. The supposition is too grossly unreasonable, too monstrous, to require labored refutation. I see no need of ranks, either for social order or for any other purpose. A great variety of pursuits and conditions is indeed to be de- sired. Men ought to follow their genius, and to put forth their powers in every useful and lawful way. I do not ask for a monotonous world. We are far too monotonous now. The vassalage of fashion, which is a part of rank, prevents con- tinually the free expansion of mens powers. Let us have the greatest diversity of occupations. But this does not imply that there is a need of splitting society into castes or ranks, or that a certain number should arrogate superiority, and stand apart from the rest of men as a separate race. Men may work in different departments of life, and yet recugnise their brotherly relation. and honor one another, and hold friendly communion with one another. Undoubtedly, men will prefer as friends and common associates those with whom they sympathize most. But this is not to form a rank or caste. For example, the intelligent seek out the intelligent; the pious, those who reverence God. But suppose the intellectual and the religious to cut themselves off by some broad, visible distinction from the rest of society, to form a clan of their own, to refuse admission into their houses to people of inferior knowledge and virtue, and to diminish as far as possible the occasions of intercourse with them; would not society rise up, as one man, against his arrogant exclusive- ness And if intelligence and piety may not be the foundations of a caste, on what ground shall they, who have no distinction but wealth, superior costume, richer equipages, finer houses, draw lines around themselves and constitute themselves a higher class. That some should be richer than others is natural, and is necessary, and could only be prevented by gross vioktions of right. Leave men to the free use of their powers, and some will accumulate more than their neighbors. But, to be prosperous is not to be superior, and should form no barrier between men. Wealth ought not to secure to the prosperous the slightest consideration. The only distinctions which should be recognised are those of the soul, of strong princi- ple, and of incorruptible integrity, of usefulness, of cultivated intellect, of fidelity in ~ seeking for truth. A man, in proportion as he has these claims, should be honored and welcomed everywhere. I see not why such a man, however coarsely if neatly dressed, should not be a respected guest in the most splendid mansions, and at the most brilliant meetings. A man is worth infinitely more than the saloons, and the costumes, and the show of the universe. He was made to tread all these beneath his feet. What an insult to humanity is the present deference to dress and uphol- stery, as if silkworms, and looms, and scissors, and needles could produce something nobler than a man. Every good man should protest against a caste founded on outward prosperity, because it exalts the outward above the inward, the material above the spiritual; because it springs from and cherishes a contemptible pride in superficial and transitory distinctions; because it alienates man from his brother, breaks the tie of common humanity, and breeds jealousy, scorn, and mutual ill will. Can this be needed to social order It is true that in countries where the mass of the people are ignorant and servile, the existence of a higher and a worshipped rank tends to keep them from outrage. It infuses a sentiment of awe, which prevents more or less the need of force and punishment. But it is worthy of remark, that the means of keeping order in one state of society may become the chief excitement of discontent and disorder in another, and this is pecullaily true of aristocracy or high rank. In rude ages, this keeps the people down; but when the peeple by degrees have risen to some con- sciousness of their rights and essential equality with the rest of the race, the awe On Ike flievation of tk~ [July, of rank naturally subsides, and passes into suspicion, jealonsy, and sense of injury, and a disposition to resist. The very institution which once restrained now pro- vokes. Through this process the old world is now passing. The strange illusion, that a man, because he wears a garter or riband, or was born to a title, belongs to another race, is fading away; and society must pass through a series of revolutions, silent or bloody, until a more natural order takes place of distinctions which grew originally out of force. Thus aristocracy, instead of giving order to society, now convulses it. So impossible is it for arbitrary human ordinations peimanently to degrade human nature, or subvert the principles of justice and freedom. I am aware, that it will be said, that the want of refinement of manners and taste in the lower classes will necessarily keep them an inferior cas~, even though all political inequalities be removed. I acknowledge this defect of manners in the multitude, and grant that it is an obstacle to intercourse with the more improved, though often exaggerated. But this is a barrier which must and will yield to the means of culture spread through our community. This evil is not necessarily as- sociated with any condition of human life. An intelligent traveller,* tells us, that in Norway, a country wanting many of our advantages, good manners and polite- ness are spread through all conditions; and that the rough way of talking to and living with each other, characteristic of the lower classes of society in England, is not found there~ Not many centuries ago, the intercourse of the highest orders in Europe was sullied by indelicacy and fierceness; but time has worn out these stains, and the same cause is now removing what is repulsive among those who toil with their hands. I cannot believe, that coarse manners, boisterous conversation, slovenly negligences, filthy customs, surliness, indecency, are to descend by neces- sity from generation to generation in any portion of the ~ommunity. I do not see why neatness, courtesy, delicacy, ease, and deference to others feelings, may not be made the habits of the laboring multitude. A change is certainly going on among them in respect to manners. Let us hope that it will be a change for the better; that they will not adopt false notions of refinement; that they will escape the serviie imitation of what is hollow and insincere, and the substitution of out- ward shows for genuine natural courtesy. Unhappily they have but imperfect mo- dels on which to form themselves. It is not one class alone which needs reform in manners. We all need a new social intercourse, which shall breathe genuine refinement; which shall unite the two great elements of politeness, self-respect and a delicate regard to the rights and feelings of others; which shall be free ~vithout rudeness, and earnest without positiveness; which shall be graceful yet warm-heart- ed; and in which communication shall be frank, unlabored, overflowing, through the absence of all assumption and pretence, and through the consciousness of being safe from heartless ridicule. This grand reform, which I trust is to come, will bring with it a happiness little known in social life; and whence shall it come The wise and disinterested of all conditions must contribute to it; and I see not why the laboring clabses may not take part in the work. Indeed, when I consider the greater simplicity of their lives, and their greater openness to the spirit of Chris- tianity, I am not sure but that the golden age of manners is to begin among those who are now despaired of for their want of refinement. In these remarks, I have given the name of prejudices to the old opinions re- specting rank, and respecting the need of keeping the people from much thought. But allow these opinions to have a foundation in truth; suppose high fences of rank to be necessary to refinement of manners; suppose that the happiest of all ages were the feudal, when aristocracy was in its flower and glory; when the noble, superior to the laws, committed more murders in one year, than the multitude in twenty. Suppose it best for the laborer to live and die in thoughtless ignorance. Allow all this, and that we have reason to look with envy on the past; one thing is See Laings Travels in Norway. 1840.] Laboring Portion of tke Community. 57 plain; the past is gone, the feudal castle is dismantled, the distance between class- ~s greatly reduced. Unfortunate as it may be, the people have begun to think, to ask reasons for what they do and suffer and believe, and to call the past to account. Old spells are broken, old4eliances gone. Men can no longer be kept down by pageantry, state robes, forms and shows. Allowing it to be best, that society should rest on the depression of the multitude, the multitude will no longer be quiet when they are trodden under foot, but ask impatiently for a reason why they too may not have a share in social blessings. Such is the state of things, and we must make the best of what we cannot prevent. Right or wrong, the people will think; and is it not important that they should think justly that they should be inspired with the love of truth, and instructed how to seek it that they should be established by wise culture in the great principles on which religion and society rest, and be protected from scepticism and wild speculation by intercourse with enlightened and virtuous men! It is plain that, in the actual state of the world, nothing can avail us, but a real improvement of the mass of the people. No stable foundation can be laid for us but in mens minds. Alarming as the truth is, it should be told, that outward institutions cannot now secure us. Mightier powers than institutions have come into play among us, the judgment, the opinions, the feelings of the many; and all hopes of stability, which do not rest on the progress of the many, must perish. The lastand most serious objection to the possibility of the eleva- tion proposed for the laboring class, by that school of democrated phi- lanthropy of which we recognise Dr. Channing as one of the wisest and purest teachers, is, that the laborer cannot give the requisite time and strength to intellectual, social, and moral culture, without starving his family, and impoverishing the community. Political Economy, say those who urge this objection, by showing that population out- strips the means of improvement, passes an irrepealable sentence of ignorance and degradation on the laborer. Nature has laid this heavy ban on the mass of the people, and it is idle to set up our theories and dreams of improvement against nature. But this objection generally comes from a suspicious source from the men who abound, and are at ease; who think more of property than of any other human interest; who have little concern for the mass of their fellow-creatures; who are willing that others shouhi bear all the burdens of life, and that any social order should continue which secures to themselves personal comfort or gratification. The objection is but a repetition of the old doctrine, that what has been must be; that the future is always to repeat the past, and socie- ty to tread for ever the same beaten patha doctrine exploded not only by the broad fact of general progress, in greater or less degree observable throughout all the civilized world, but especially by the experience of our own country. The working classes here have risen and are still rising intellectually, and yet there are no signs of starvation, nor are we becoming the poorest people on earth. By far the most interesting view of this country is the condition of the working multitude. Nothing among us deserves the attention of the traveller so much as the force of thought and character, and the self-respect awakened by our history and institutions in the mass of the people. Our prosperous classes are much like the same classes abroad, though, as we hope, of purer morals; but the great work- ir~g multitude leave far behind them the laborers of other countries. No h~an of D2 58 On the Elevation of the [July observation and benevolence can converse with them, without being struck and de.. lighted with the signs they give of strong and sound intellect and manly principle. And who is authorized to set bounds to this progress In improvement the first steps are the hardest. The difficulty is to wake up mens souls, not to continue their action. Every accession of light and strength is a help to new acquisitions. The absurdity of the idea that the intellectual cultivation of the mass of the people could have the effect of diminishing their produc- tive energy and efficiency, so as to starve and impoverish the country, scarcely needed the refutation which Dr. Channing gives to it at some length. It is indeed to lie frightened by a shadow. Apart from the in- calculable social benefit and economy which would flow from the suppression of Intemperance, of Wastefulness, of Sloth, of ignorance on the all-important subject of Healthapart, too, from the truth that the happiness of a community depends vastly more on the distribution than on the amount of its wealthapart from these considerations, who can doubt that with the growth of intellectual and moral power in the community, its productive power will increase, that indus$ry will be- come more efficient, that a wiser economy will accumulate wealth, that unimagined resources of art and nature will be discovered? Bodily or material force, says the author, can be measured, btit not the forces of the soul, nor can the results of increased mental energy be foretold. Such a community will tread down obstacles now deemed invincible, and turn them into helps. The Inward mnoulds the Outward. The power of a people lies in its mind; and this mind, if fortified and enlarged, will bring external things into har- mony with itself. It will create a new world around it corresponding to itself. In the following passage Dr. Channing touches upon a great idea or rather upon two which associate themselves closely together: Another consideration in reply to the objection is, that as yet no community has ~erionsl~ set itself to the work of improving all its members, so that what is possible remains to be ascertained. No experiment has been made to determine how far liberal provision can be made at once for the body and mind of the laborer. The highest social art is yet in its infancy. Great minds have nowhere solemnly, earnestly undertaken to resolve the problem, how the multitude of men may be ele- vated. The trial is to come. Still more, the multitude have nowhere comprehend- ed distinctly the true idea of progress, and resolved deliberately and solemnly to reduce it to reality. This great thought, however, is gradually opening on them, and it is destined to work wonders. From themselves, their salvation must chiefly come. Little can be done for them by others, till a spring is touched in their own breasts; and this being done, they cannot fail. The people, as history shows us, can accomplish miracles under the power of a great idea. How much have they often done and suffered in critical moments for country, for religion The great idea of their own elevation is only beginning to unfold itself within them, and its energy is not to be foretold. A lofty conception of this kind, were it once distinctly seized, would be a new life breathed into them. Under this impulse they would create time a~d strength for their high calling, and would not only regenerate them- selves but the community. Here is alluded to the great problem of which the solution is indis~ !840.] Laboring Portion of the Community. 59 pensable before any material progress can be made toward the great object of the moral improvement and elevation of the mass of men how far liberal provision can be made at once for the body and mind of the laborer. The former must be the necessary antecedent, before attention can be yielded to the latter. And so long as society is governed by any system of which the tendency is to embarrass the productive industry of the mass by the pressure of a single unneces- sary tax, or clog or discouragement of any kind, so long is the moral elevation of that mass proportionately depressed and retarded. Fear- ful is the responsibility assumed by those who place themselves at the centre of the social system, to work those springs of legislation which create and direct the motion of the whole machinery. How criminal the folly of those who deal rashly and ignorantly with the solemn duties of the taskhow grievous the guilt of those who bring to them unholy motives of selfishness or ambition, to the base gratifi- cation of which may be sacrificed perhaps the highest human rights and interests of countless thousands of fellow-beings! A bad measure of legislation, adopted for the promotion of partial interests, what ima- gination can form a faint conception of the amount of evi~I and suf- fering, multiplied out into infinite ramifications of consequences, of which it is often the origin and cause, and of which the framer of the measure becomes the responsible author! Let it not be supposed that it stops short at its mere immediate apparent effects, in simply involving a certain amount of positive loss to the whole or to a part of the community, causing a certain diminution in the aggregate of the national wealth. It invariably acts, in its eventual effect, as a tax and burthen upon the industry of the laboring mass; it adds so much to the length and severity of the poor mans toil; it subtracts so much from his means of comfortable sustenance, and his opportunities of mental improvement and moral elevation. It depresses him by so much in the scale of being, reacting with an unerring effect upon even the healthy perfection of his physical constitution, and often prolongs and multiplies itself through his offspring in an indefinite progress of degeneration. And here are we able to perceive the immeasurable importance of the science of Political Economy, in that moral influ- ence upon the condition and progress of society, which affords the point of view from which it presents its highest and most solemn interest to the student of its grandly simple and harmonious principles In connexion with this point, of the possibility of combining a liberal provision at once for the body and the mind of the laborer, we may allude to an idea which, though not a novel one, has as yet received but a very impeifect developement; and in which the attempts at a practical application of it that have been made, have always heretofore been united with such fatal errors, honest or corrupt, that a prejudice has been created against it in the minds of many which it may be dif- ficult to~combat. We refer to the principle of Combination of which we 60 On the Elevation of the [July. see an imperfect use made in certain industrial associations which have been formed or attempted, with various success, in different coun- tries, as also in that Socialism which has recently been made a subject of serious agitation in England. It is very certain that this principle is capable of producing immense results, so far as regards the simple consideration of external prosperity and abundance. How far it may with safety be carriedliable as it obviously is to fatal abuseand in what modes it may be possible to combine it with that opposite principle, of Individuality which, with all the evil accompany- ing it, is a fundamental law of our nature, as it is the essential princi- ple of our modern civilization, and seems an indispensable stimulus to exertionconstitutes a problem of profound difficulty; and every attempt at its solution, however defective, however abortive, deserves our most anxious observation. At any rate, whether or not this principle, according to the theory of Socialism, contains the germ of a new system which shall realize for the laboring mass of mankind the important object in view, of se- curing a vastly increased amount of the necessaries and comforts of life at a great economy of toil and time, there can be no doubt that even without it, the elevation of the standard of popular intelligence and morals would not only prevent an immense amount of waste, through a countless variety of modes of vice and ignorance, but would also directly cause a still greater increhse of efficiency in every branch of productive industry. The former may afford a great alleviation to the condition of the wretched mass of the working population of Eng1~nd, from whose necessities and character its sug- gestion has arisen; and it is not to be denied that it finds no slight support, not only in the precedent of a community of goods bequeath- ed to us from the earliest and purest days of Christianity, but also in the consideration of the incalculable amount of moral evil which ap~- pears directly assignable to the selfish principle of individuality of pro- perty. This may be true, and by a stretch of concession the supposition may even be granted, of the possibility of substituting for the latter prin- ciple,, in any human community on a large scale, the law of love with the practice of the primitive Christianity above referred to. That which can refer to such a sanction, as well as to the spirit of the reli- gion of which that practice was but an applicationhowever impossi- ble it may now seem, and foreign to all the habits and modes of thinking of our present civilizationis at least entitled to our respect, as possibly not so total an impracticability, not so radically inconsis- tent with the fundamental laws of mans nature, as we may at first be disposed to pronounce it. Yet still it appears manifest that this is not to be the condition of the laboring mass in this country. The demo- cratic civilization which we are engaged in slowly and painfully working out, is animated by a different spirit, that of diffusiveness, is organized on an opposite principle, that of individuality. Whether 1840.] Laboring Portion of the Community. 61 the perfect freedom of the latter may not eventually lead, by the na- tural tendency of untrammeled human nature, toward the former, so as to produce an harmonious blending of the two, and thus to realize the whole grand conception of the pure theory of Christianity, the union of Perfect Liberty with Perfect Lovewhen thou shalt love thy neighbor as thy self we may not foretell; though we feel cheered by a deep, though dim, faith that such is the result toward which our present harsh and selfish transition state is slowly tending, such the sublime order which an unseen hand is gradually elaborating out of the wild moral chaos of our present civilization. But at any rate, it is the principle of Individuality which now rules the hour, and must continue to rule it with undivided sway; nor must we distract our attention with vain and impracticable efforts to combat it, or to super- sede it by any other. Nor, indeed, should we wish to do so. Let us leave human nature to itself, and see what it will do. Let us make every man free, ma- terially and spiritually, embarrassing the completeness of his Liberty as little as possible by the pressure of Law and Government. The result of the freedom we now enjoya very imperfect one indeed is, we must concede, an universal and intense selfishnessa passion for property, the indulgence of which, stimulated by conspiring cir- cumstances, has exerted much pernicious and demoralizing effect upon our national characte~r. But such will not be always the case; nor should we be discouraged, by the evils attendant upon a transition state, from pursuing fearlessly the developement of great principles of the truth of whichspringing out of, and necessarily therefore not inconsistent with, the essential laws and attributes of human nature we are profoundly convinced. This selfish principle which we have called that of Individuality, this necessary first consequence of that of perfect freedom, has al- ready produced immense results of general prosperity and abundance, as a stimulus to exertion and enterprise; and when relieved from the incubus of bad legislation, will undoubtedly act with vastly increased efficiency in the same direction. To this, then,, we must look as our reliance, though we may still watch with anxious interest the experi- ments of Socialism, or any other efforts of a similar kind toward a better state of things, that may be made in other countries. And our chief object, so far as it is to be affected by the influence of go- vernment(and that influence is unquestionably strong and pervading) should be to promote to the utmost extent possible, the efficiency of its action for the creation of national wealth and individual pros- perity. And in this point of view will appear all the moral impor- tance Qf the great struggle for Currency Reform in which our party is now engaged. The currency of a country has been indeed not in- aptly called the life-blood of the whole system of national industry. A healthy and natural condition of this is the first requisite to nation- 62 On Me Elevation of Me [July, al prosperity. And it is because profoundly convinced, as well by the teachings of experience as by the theoretic demonstrations of po- litical economy, that the irremediable instability of our present paper- money currency is the most fatal disease that can poison the whole constitution of the social body, operating as the most depressing in- cubus upon the industrious energies of the people, that we are so solicitous to carry out to the farthest extent possible that radical re- formation of it, of which the great measure of the Independent Trea- sury is but the first step. But to return to Dr. Channing, from whom the foregoing train of reflection has led us farther and longer than we had designed, our present object being chiefly to furnish an analysis, with liberal quo- tations? of his recent admirable Lectures before the Mechanics of Boston. He proceeds, in the last place, to consider a few of the circumstances of the times which encourage hopes of the progress of which we have spoken, on the part of the mass of the people. The first is thus stated, and its truth will be readily admitted. Would only that it could be stated with still greater strength, as more univer- sally and completely true; but we must be content that this, like every other of the social influences of democracy, should work its way but slowly through the great body of a society formed and educated, through past centuries, on a different theory, and still strongly swayed by the literature, opinion, and example of a country whose political system is one of the most complete aristocracies that have ever existed: It is an encouraging circumstance, that the respect for labor is increasing, or rather that the old prejudices against manual toil as degrading a man, or putting him in a lower sphere, are wearing away; and the cause of this change is full of promise ; for it is to be found in the progress of intelligence, Christianity, and free- dom, all of which cry aloud against the old barriers created between the different classes, and challenge especial sympathy and regard for those who bear the heavi- est burdens, and create most of the comforts of social life. The contempt of labor of which I have spoken, is a relic of the old aristocratic prejudices, which formerly proscribed trade as unworthy of a gentleman, and must die out with other prejudices of the same low origin. And the results must be happy. It is hard for a class of men to r~spect themselves, who are denied respect by all around them. A vocation, looked on as degrading, will have a tendency to degrade those who follow it. Away, then, with the idea of something low in manual labor. There is something shocking to a religious man in the thought, that the employment which God has ordained for the vast majority of the human race should be unworthy of any man, even of the highest. If indeed there were an employment which could not be dispensed with, and which yet tended to degrade such as might be devoted to it, I should say that it ought to be shared by the whole race and thus neutral- ized by extreme division, instead of being laid, as the sole vocation, on one man or a few. Let no human being be broken in spirit, or trodden under foot, for the outward prosperity of the State. So far is manual labor from meriting contempt or slight, that it will probably be found, when united with true means of spiritual culture, to foster a sounder judgment, a keener observation, a more creative imagi- nation, and a purer taste than any other vocation. Man thinks of the few, God of the many; and the many will be found at length. to have within their reach the roost effectual means of progress 1840.1 Laboring Portion of the Community. 63 Dr. Channing next adverts to the fact of the creation of a popular literature, which puts within the reach of the laboring class, at very cheap cost, the means of knowledge in whatever branch they wish to cultivatebooks of great value in all departments, mines of inesti- mable truth open to all who are resolved to think and learn, being constantly published for the benefit of the mass of readers, amid all the countless volumes of trash which are issued for the mere purpose of frivolous amusement. He anticipates, too, that literature will con- tinue more and more to adapt itself to this class of readers, as the demand shall increase for the gratification of their intellectual wants. Another circumstance to which he refers is to be found in the juster views the laboring class are beginning to adopt in regard to the edu- cation of their children. From his remarks on this point we make the following extracts: Vastly snore, I believe, is hereafter to be done for children, than ever before, by the gradual spread of a simple truth, almost too simple, one would think, to need exposition, yet up to this day wilfully neglected, namely, that education is a sham, a cheat, unless carried on by able, accomplished teachers. The dignity of the vocation of a teacher is beginning to be understood. The idea is dawning on us, that no office can compare in solemnity and importance with that of training the child; that skill to form the young to energy, truth, and virtue is worth more than the knowledge of all other arts and sciences; and that of consequence the encou- ragement of excellent teachers is the first duty which a community owes to itself. I say the truth is dawning; and it must make its way. The instruction of the children of all classes, especially of the laboring class, has as yet been too generally committed to unprepared, unskilful hands, and of course the school is in general little more than a name. The whole worth of a school lies in the teacher. * * * * The object of education is not so much to give a certain amount of knowledge, as to awaken the faculties, and give the pupil the use of his own mind; and one book, taught by a man who knows how to accomplish these ends, is worth more than libraries as usually read. It is not necessary that much should be taught in youth, but that a little should be taught philosophically, profoundly, livingly. For example, it is not necessary that the pupil be carried over the history of the world from the deluge to the present day. Let him be helped to read a single history wisely, to apply the principles of historical evidence to its statements, to trace the causes and effects of events, to penetrate into the motives of actions, to observe the workings of human nature in what is done and suffered, to judge impartially of action and character, to sympathize with what is noble, to detect the spirit of an age in different forms from our own, to seize the great truths which are wrapped up in de- tails, and to discern a moral Providence, a retribution, amid all corruptions and changes; let him learn to read a single history thus, and he has learned to read all histories; he is prepared to study, as he may have time in future life, the whole course of human events: he is better educated by this one book than he would be by all the histories in all languages as commonly taught. The education of the laborers children need never stop for want of books and apparatus. More of them would do good, but enough may be easily obtained. What we want is, a race of teachers acquainted with the philosophy of the mind, gifted men and women, who shall respect human nature in the child, and strive to touch and gently bring out his best powers and sympathies; and who shall devote themselves to this as the great end of life. This good, I trust, is to come, but it comes slowly. The [July~ 64 On the Elevation of the establishment of normal schools, shows that the want of it begins to be felt. This good requires, that education shall be recognised by the community as its highest interest and duty. It requires, that the instructors of youth shall take precedence of the money-getting classes, and that the woman of fashion shall fall behind the female teacher. It requires, that parents shall sacrifice show and pleasure to the acquisition of the best possible helps and guides for their childreii. Not that a great pecuniary compensation is to create good teachers; these must be formed by indi- vidual impulse, by a genuine interst in education; but good impulse must be second- ed by outward circumstances; and the means of education will always bear a proportion to the respect in which the office of a teacher is held in the community. Happily in this country the true idea of education, of its nature and supreme im- portance, is silently working and gains ground. Those of us who look back on half a century, see a real, great improvement in schools and in the standard of in- struction. What should encourage this movement in this country is, that nothing is wanting here to the intellectual elevation of the laboring class, but that a spring should be given to the child, and that the art of thinking justly and strongly should be formed in early life; for, this preparation being made, the circumstances of fu- ture life will almost of themselves carry on the work of improvement. It is one of the inestimable benefits of free institutions, that they are constant stimulants to the intellect; that they furnish, in rapid succession, quickening subjects of thought and discussion. A whole people at the same moment are moved to reflect, reason, judge, and act on matters of deep and universal concern: and where the capacity of thought has received wise culture, the intellect unconsciously, by an almost irresistible sympathy, is kept perpetually alive. The mind, like the body, depends on the climate it lives in, on the air it breathes; and the air of freedom is bracing, exhilarating, expanding, to a degree not dreamed of under a despotism. This sti- mulus of liberty, however, avails little, except where the mind has been trained t& think for the acquisition of truth. The unthinking and passionate are hurried by it into ruinous excess.~ The following is the last of the circumstances to which Dr. Chan- ning adverts. Painful and disheartening as it may appear, the cor- rectness of the picture which he presents of the character of the present civilization of the Christian world cannot be denieda civi- lization, as he remarks in another plac& , selfish, mercenary, sensual standing in direct hostility to the great ideas of Christianitya civilization which cannot, must not, endure for ever. The last ground of hope for the elevation of the laborer, and the chief and the most sustaining, is the clearer developement of the principles of Christianity. The future influences of this religion are not to be judged from the past. Up to this time it has been made a political engine, and in other ways perverted. But its true spirit, the spirit of brotherhood and freedom, is beginning to be understood, and this will undo the work which opposite principles have been carrying on for ages. Christianity is the only effectual remedy for the fearful evils of modern civi- lization; a system which teaches its members to grasp at everything, and to rise above everybody, as the great aims of life. Of such a civilization, the natural fruits are, contempt of others rights, fraud, oppression, a gambling spirit in trade, reck- less adventure, and commercial convulsions, all tending to impoverish the laborer and to render every condition insecure. Relief is to come, and can only come from the new application of Christian principles, of universal justice, and universal love, to social institutions, to commerce, to business, to active life. This application has begun, and the laborer, above all men, is to feel its happy and exalting influx- encgs. 1 840.] Laboring Portion of the Community. 65 Such, then, our wise, pure, and eloquent author proceeds Such are some of the circumstances which inspire hopes of the eleva- tion of the laboring classes. To these might be added other strong grounds of encouragement, to be found in the principles of human nature, in the per- fections and providence of God, and in the prophetic intimations of his word. But these I pass over. From all, I derive strong hopes for the mass of men. I do not, cannot, see why manual toil and self-improvement may not go on in friend- ly union. I do not see why the laborer may not attain to refined habits and man- ners as truly as other men. I do not see why conversation under his humble roof may not be cheered by wit and exalted by intelligence. I do not see why amid his toils he may not cast his eye around him on Gods glorious creation, and be strengthened and refreshed by the sight. I do not see why the great ideas which exalt humanity, those of the Infinite Father, of Perfection, of our nearness to God, and of the purpose of our being, may not grow bright and strong in the laborers mind. Society, I trust, is tending toward a condition, ia which it will look back with astonishment at the present neglect or perversion of human powers. In the developement of a more enlarged philanthropy, in the diffusion of the Christian spirit of brotherhood, in the recognition of the equal rights of every human being, we have the dawn and promise of a better age, when no man will be deprived of the means of elevation but by his own fault; when the evil doctrine, worthy of the arch-fiend, that social order demands the depression of the mass of men, will be rejected with horror and scorn; when the great object of the community will be to accumulate means and influences for awakening and expanding the best power of all classes; when far less will be expended on the body and far m.ore on the mind when men of uncommon gifts for the instruction of their race, will be sent forth to carry light and strength into their sphere of human life; when spacious libraries, collections of the fine arts, cabinets of natural history, and all the institutions by which the people may be refined and ennobled, will be formed and thrown open to all; and when the toils of life, by a wise intermixture of these higher influences, will be made the instruments of human elevation. But while expressing these high hopes of the intellectual, moral, religious, social elevation of the laboring class, Dr. Channing does not leave the subject without confessing some fears which sometimes intrude themselves upon them~the uncertainty which human imper- fection casts upon the future.~.the fearful character of some of the elements which society, like the natural world, holds in its bosom. It is possible, he says, that the laboring classes, by their reck- lessness, their passionateness, their jealousies of the more prosperous, and their subserviency to parties and political leaders, may turn all their bright prospects into darkness, may blight the hopes which phi- lanthropy now cherishes of a happier and holier social state. But well assured are we of the groundlessness of this alarm. The di- rection of flame is upward, when left free to mount; nor can we doubt the upward tendency of depressed and degraded humanity, in proportion as it is relieved from the weight of the adverse influences beneath which it has been crushed, and as it is left free to the healthy developement of its own native energies. Nor is it by any means to be admitted that the defects here alluded to, as endangering the pros- pect of their progress, are peculiarly characteristic of our laboring classes. There is, indeed, another danger of a more real and serious VOL. VIII. NO. XXXI.3ULY, I 840. E 66 On the Elevation of the Laboring Portion of the Community~ [July nature to which our author briefly alludes. It is also possible, he remarks, in this mysterious state of things, that evil may come to them from causes which are thought to promise them nothing but good. The present anxiety and universal desire is to make the country rich, and it is taken for granted that its growing wealth is necessarily to benefit all conditions. But is this consequence sure? May not a country be rich, and yet great numbers of the people wofully de- pressed? In England, the richest nation under heaven, how sad, how degraded the state of agricultural and manufacturing clashes! It is thought that the institutions of this country give an assurance that growing wealth will here equally benefit and carry forward all por- tions of the community. I hope so; but I am not sure. In this re- mark Dr. Channing approaches a very important political truth which lies at the foundation of the great issue now pending between our political parties. Well may he express himself not sure, whether the republican freedom of our institutions will enable us to avoid the lamentable state of things to which he alludes as the result of the financial polity which has governed England during the last century, if we shall persevere in an infatuate imitation of the poisonous princi- ples of that fatal system. But even from this most insidious of national dangers, to which the profound sagacity of Pitt looked as an ample anti- dote against the theoretic democracy of our form of government, even from this we have now no great apprehension. True, the poison is still in our system, vitiating the life-blood of our currency; and it must take many a year of struggle and agony before the fatal disease of our paper-money banking system can be eradicated, and a state of natural and healthy circulation can be restored. But we are at least fully aware of the disease. The attentio~n of the Democracy has become, and is daily more and more becoming, aroused to a sense of its nature and magnitude; and if an immediate and total cure is not possible, we are at least assured, not only that the disease will not be allowed to proceed farther, but that the course of gradual reformof recurrence to sound principles of currency and bankingwhich has now been begun, under the auspices of the Democratic party, will be resolutely persisted in, till it shall result in a radical and permanent cure. The establishment of the policy of the Independent Treasury, so far as relates to the affairs of the Federal Government, is an important step in the direction of this great reformimportant not merely in its own value and operation, but also as an index of such a maturity of opinion on the subject as cannot stop short at that point of progress. The snake is scotched, if it is not killed ; and with a continuance of the same blessing of God which has thus far crowned with success the high mission of democratic reform in which our party is engaged, it shall ere long be crushed in the dust, never again to rear its head to pollute our atmosphere with the foul and fatal poison of its breath. This great object once accomplished, and all is well! 1840.1 67 THE PROGRESS OF SOCIETY. OUR modern lord of song, Shelley, has said that naught may en- dure but mutability. Paradoxical as the expression appears, it may, nevertheless, be considered literally true. On all sides the world presents one vast scene of incessant mutation. Nothing abideth in one stay. Night alternates with day, and seed-time with harvest. Moons wax and wane, and the ebb of the str~ani follows its ~1ow. The grass grows up, is cut down and withereth. Mighty oaks fall and acorns sprout. The myriad forms of animal life spring forth into being, enjoy their ephemeral existence, perish and pass away. One generation of men pursues another to the grave, and the father de- scends to the tomb, that his place may be filled by one who was but a short time before an infant prattling on his knee. The breath of the destroyer, Time, blows upon the monuments of human power and skill, and they crumble into dust. Seas are sweeping where once stood populous cities, and some lone column in the desert is all that marks where the princes of the earth reared their stateliest palaces. Empires have risen and grown till the nations quailed before them, when they have been suddenly swept away by the might of some newer power. Dynasties have fallen, customs have become obsolete, laws have perished, even religions have vanished away like a tale that is told. On all hands we behold the same wild career of change, of mingled dissolution and reproduction, of vigor and decay. Every- thing we see is hastening to its destruction, that new forms~ may arise upon its ruins, and run the same rapid course toward the goal of death. Is this, then, one is naturally led to ask, indeed a chaos? Is it no more than a lawless tumult of conflicting principles, without object or system? Does it tend to no results? Must the human race, like a blind mill-horse, travel for ever the same unvarying round, grinding out hopelessly the self-same evil products? Far from it. Where our imperfect vision can see but wild confusion, there exists harmonious order. Where we can see no plan, every element fulfils the mission assigned it by omniscience. Look out upon the hosts of shining worlds that crowd the arch of heaven. r~ he mind is bewildered, lost, in con- templation of the countless throng, and all seem scattered there by the wildness of accident, yet each rolls swiftly and surely on its predes- tined circle, departing no iota from it, in its course through infinity and eternity. So is it with the history of mankind. Through all its strange vicissitudes, the reflecting mind can observe the operation of one mighty principle, leading on to the accomplishment of as mighty purposes. On all is written the great law of Progress. This is in- deed the distinguishing mark of our species, obviously dividing it from

The Progress of Society 67-88

1840.1 67 THE PROGRESS OF SOCIETY. OUR modern lord of song, Shelley, has said that naught may en- dure but mutability. Paradoxical as the expression appears, it may, nevertheless, be considered literally true. On all sides the world presents one vast scene of incessant mutation. Nothing abideth in one stay. Night alternates with day, and seed-time with harvest. Moons wax and wane, and the ebb of the str~ani follows its ~1ow. The grass grows up, is cut down and withereth. Mighty oaks fall and acorns sprout. The myriad forms of animal life spring forth into being, enjoy their ephemeral existence, perish and pass away. One generation of men pursues another to the grave, and the father de- scends to the tomb, that his place may be filled by one who was but a short time before an infant prattling on his knee. The breath of the destroyer, Time, blows upon the monuments of human power and skill, and they crumble into dust. Seas are sweeping where once stood populous cities, and some lone column in the desert is all that marks where the princes of the earth reared their stateliest palaces. Empires have risen and grown till the nations quailed before them, when they have been suddenly swept away by the might of some newer power. Dynasties have fallen, customs have become obsolete, laws have perished, even religions have vanished away like a tale that is told. On all hands we behold the same wild career of change, of mingled dissolution and reproduction, of vigor and decay. Every- thing we see is hastening to its destruction, that new forms~ may arise upon its ruins, and run the same rapid course toward the goal of death. Is this, then, one is naturally led to ask, indeed a chaos? Is it no more than a lawless tumult of conflicting principles, without object or system? Does it tend to no results? Must the human race, like a blind mill-horse, travel for ever the same unvarying round, grinding out hopelessly the self-same evil products? Far from it. Where our imperfect vision can see but wild confusion, there exists harmonious order. Where we can see no plan, every element fulfils the mission assigned it by omniscience. Look out upon the hosts of shining worlds that crowd the arch of heaven. r~ he mind is bewildered, lost, in con- templation of the countless throng, and all seem scattered there by the wildness of accident, yet each rolls swiftly and surely on its predes- tined circle, departing no iota from it, in its course through infinity and eternity. So is it with the history of mankind. Through all its strange vicissitudes, the reflecting mind can observe the operation of one mighty principle, leading on to the accomplishment of as mighty purposes. On all is written the great law of Progress. This is in- deed the distinguishing mark of our species, obviously dividing it from The of Society. 68 [July, the beasts that perish. One after another the generations may pass from the stage of action, in solemn array, going down to the dead empires may sink in ruinand whole nations be swept from the face of the earth as by the breath of the pestilence, but the course of the whole race is still onward. Every age takes some one step in advance of its predecessors. Science goes calmly on, adding little by little to its ever-accumulating store, and evolving one important principle after another, while philosophy from time to time throws some new ray of light upon the mysteries of the universe. A great truth once known and uttered never wholly dies, but continues to exert its ap- propriate influence in urging the family of man on to its high destiny in the perfection of human civilization. To trace the progress thus effected as succinctly as possible, or at least to show its existence, is the object of the present paper. But first let us glance at the signification of a term we constantly employ, but which will be the better for a more specific definition. Civilization includes two elements.* The first of these is the de- velopement of the faculties and powers of the individual. The breast of the savage is a sealed casket of precious jewels. Although en- dowed with capabilities for all that is great and good, he has no op- portunity of displaying them, and is unconscious of their existence. They lie smothered and buried beneath a mass of low cares, sordid appetites, and stormy passions. Exercise and discipline these facul- ties, train them till their full extent is developed, and you will have before you a perfect man; then, and then only, will he stand erect in the image of his Maker, This developement, in a greater or less degree, will be effected in the progress of civilization. Much has been done toward it already, for the man of the present day is a very different being from him of five centuries ago. He is made to partake of a much greater amount of knowledge, is educated to greater mental vigor and activity, and taught to employ his powers upon a much more extended circle of objects. The second element is the improve- ment of society, of the relation of men, one to another. In all the ruder conditions of mankind, the individual is injured or oppressed, deprived of some one portion of his birth-right; each trenches upon some privilege of his neighbor, and is in turn encroached upon by him, while both are made to suffer by the power of their superiors. The best state of society would therefore be that in which each member is left to the guidance of his own enlightened will, as far as is possible compatibly with the right and liberties of his associates. rfhe per- fection of civilization will be found in that state where each member, after the greatest possible amount of moral and intellectual cultivation, enjoys the greatest possible amount of personal freedom. That we are rapidly advancing toward such a condition will be abundantly * Guizot, History of Civilization in Europe, p. 25. 2840.1 The Progress of Society. 69 proved by a reference to the history of the world, for we will find that society has never retrograded but temporarily; and that no real and important improvement or amelioration once made, has ever been lost, but still endures in the immortality of truth. The knowledge of special facts may have been lost, certain processes of art may have been forgotten, but a great principle once fairly stated, understood, and acted upon, enjoys unfading life, and exerts an undecaying energy. Let us then look for a moment at the steps by which society has reached its present position, in the hope that we may derive from the survey some useful lesson, and perhaps infer the character of its future progress. Mankind never could have existed but in society. This is the only state of nature. Even admitting, with certain writers, that men were not originally above the level of the brute creation, they must at least have been gregarious and to some extent mutually de- pendent. Association in tribes would be imperiously demanded by the comparativ. weakness of the female, by the long dependence of the infant upon its parents, so different from what occurs among ani- mals generally, and especially by the exposure of the human frame to danger from the adverse action of the elements. This last circum- stance would lead to mental exertion in the discovery of expedients for protection, and thus provoke the first efforts at civilization, which is virtually the exercise of human powers, under the direction of mind, in producing a conformity of the external world and mans own nature with his numerous wants and capacities. What their first efforts were we do not know, for fhey are lost in the remoteness of antiquity. As regards society, however, it is natural to suppose that its first idea arose from the constitution of the family, or rather that society was originally but an extension of the family. As his progeny increased in number the good old father sate in their midst as ruler, and old and young alike submitted to an authority tempered by love. In all the difficulties incident to their simple condition, the patriarch was their counsellor and friend; he encouraged the good, rebuked the wayward, and punished the wicked. But as population became still more nu- merous, this primitive government was subverted or modified. Might asserted its authority, and it was too often admitted. Superstitioa poisoned the minds of men, and the designing took advantage of its influence to extend their own power. The regal and priestly offices and honors were instituted in some shape or other. The masses sank into greater or less dependence, particularly upon the priesthood, as the representative of a superhuman power. Absolutism in some form was for the most part established, although some rude attempts were made to found a community based upon the idea of equality. Examples of this earliest or incipient civilization may be found amongbarbarians generally. It is marked principally by a strong feeling of personal independence, of the essential nobility of the simple man, and his 70 TAe Progress of Society. [July, equality with his fellows. It would be well to remark this fact, for we will find the same principle, after being disregarded or hidden for long ages~ of crime and sorrow, reappearing as the grand idea of the last great stage of civilization. The savnge possessed this idea, but still he was refused The birth-right of his being, knowledge, power, The skill which wields the elements) the thought Which pierces the dim universe like light, Selt-empire, and the majesty of love. It was necessary that the principle of equality should for the time disappear, that these might be developed, when it is again proclaimed, and must soon be established, forming the crowning stone of the glo- rious edifice erected by human genius in the long progress of society. The earli~est civilization of which we have any knowledge, begins with the beginning of history, for what is history, rightly considered, but the record of mans efforts at progress ?blind, uncertain, wavering, it may be, but still in the main onward. In considering this progress some writers have endeavored to divide it into successive stages, bound- ed by important epochs, and marked by peculiar characteristics. The ablest of these is probably Professor Cousin, who conceives that history may be properly regarded in three grand divi sions.* It would occupy too much space to enter into a detailed consideration of these stages; and it will therefore be enough to state, that he considers the first of them, extending from the creation to the rise of Greece, as essentially religious, and busied with the developement of ideas of infinite ex- istences; the second, that of Greece and Rome, as engaged in the devel- opement of the human mind and body, together with all natural objects; and the third, which still exists, as intended for the harmonizing of the former two, which being effected, developement will be complete. Such divisions as this must necessarily be, in a great measure, gene- ral and arbitrary, particularly from the fact, that the state of mankind throughout the world is never uniform, and different trains of action may be going on in different parts at the same time. Hence we may see different stages co-existing in regions separated only by a few leagues of desert or a narrow sea. In the present article, the follow- ing arrangement will be observed, as presenting several advantages, and in which it will be remarked that of the separate stages, instead of ending where another begins, each runs into the time allotted to its successor. The first period may be regarded as extending from the creation to the age of Socrates. At this latter date, the second or Grecian civilization, which originated with the rise of the Greek cities, had reached its culminating point, and thence continued to de- cline till its termination by the establishment of Christianity as a state religion, under Constantine. The third extends from the promulgation * Introduction to the History of Philosophy. Lecture VII., le4O~] The Progress of Society. 71 of the glad tidings of the Gospel by the Saviour to the American Re- volution, which events may be deemed the two most important in the history of the world. With the latter commences a new and mqre glorious era, of which the one immediately preceding may be consi- dered as little more than formative. In each of these periods some great idea was predominant, and fixed its charactersome leading principle was established which has not been and never will be lost, but will exert its influence while the world endures. It is not pretended that these positions are invariably applicable, and that no form of society, properly referred to either of these heads, has existed except during the years to which such form has been assign- ed. rllhis division applies only to those regions in which has taken place the progress of that civilization amid which we exist, and which we believe destined to become one day universal. The first civilization took its rise in that cradle of our race, the fertile and prolific East. Examples of it may be seen in Egypt, Assyria, and Persia, and some such nations as Ilindoostan and China still stand in their sombre magnificence, as they have stood for centuries. This society is characterized byan iron despotism, both physical and spiritu- al. The masses were mere hewers of wood and drawers of water to the privileged few, and generation after generation plodded its weary way from the cradle to the grave in aimless toil and hopeless degradation. This result was very much promoted by the division of the people into castes, each child adopting the calling and following implicitly in the footsteps of his father, without daring to aspire to a higher than the parental condition. Hence arose another peculiarity of this societyits stationary character. Progress never extended in it beyond a certain point, when the whole stood still and retained the same complexion from age to age. Nations formed upon this model were rarely disturbed by internal commotion or the outbreaking of popular discontent, and fell only by the attacks of an external foe, or the encroachments of a more advanced state of civilization placed an their vicinity. For proof of this we have but to refer to those Asiatic empires which have stood from remotest ages in their gloomy immobility, and are only now beginning to totter before the might of European intellect. The dominant castes were the clerical and mili- tary, and between these the power was divided. One held an undis- puted sway over the bodies and properties of men, while the other assumed the far more dreadful despotism over their spirits, which should be free as the wind of heaven, that blows where it lists. The mind of the people was oppressed and smothered by these twin incu- bi, till we could almost doubt its existence. The king, who may be regarded as the head and representative of the military class, exer- cised an authority absolute except as limited by that of the priest- hood. The clergy, claiming the divine sanction for all their acts, lived in pomp and affluence, and enjoyed numerous piivileges and 72 The Progress oJ Society. [July, immunities. Instead of feeding their flocks with as much of the manna of life as had been granted them, they still farther wronged them by the inculcation of a gross idolatry, very different from the sublimer faith reserved for the initiated. They were the depositories of all the learning and philosophy of their time, and it is not to be supposed that they would neglect the use of an instrument of such tremendous power. All the literature of this period, of which any traces have descended to us, partakes of a religious character. In- deed theology was almost their only study, for in this all others centred and were merged. It is remarkable that in the midst of their general darkness, there were entertained religious tenets the most abstruse and profound. It would seem as though they had arrived at ultimate truths without taking the intermediate steps, or that there still lingered among them the fading glories of some primeval revelation. When we condemn the extravagant superstition of Egypt, We should recollect that what were received by the grosser faith of the populace as ultimate objects of worship, were but mysterious symbols, shadow- ing forth some abstruse dogma, and that in all their distorted images and wild fables the learned could perceive the teachings of a deep philosophy. Considerable light has been thrown upon this subject by the researches of late British writers into the literature of India, which has strong points of resemblance with that of ancient Egypt. In one of the Hindoo religious books, to cite an example, two armies are represented as drawn up in the array of battle, composed of kins- men, once friends. Between them stands a youthful warrior, anxious and distressed, reluctant to imbrue his hands in paternal blood, and scarce knowing to which band of brothers he shall give his aid. The incarnate god Crishna stands by his side, and, ridiculing his agitation, tells him that this conflict is the doom of destiny; that, after the car- nage, the sun will smile as brightly and all the undisturbed harmony of the universe go on as before; that as one of the warrior-caste he is doomed to the battle; and that his duty is to do his part as though he did it not, with his eye fixed on this great principle, and regardless of the result.* Here we have the darkest fatalism combined, in its remoter tendency, with optimism, a philosophy which, when divested of its oriental dress, somewhat modified and contemplated in the light of Christianity, does not appear so entirely absurd. Before its terrible import as here stated, however, th?e human mind shrinks into utter nothingness, and the deluded victim rushes darkling on his ruin, as the blind and involuntary instrument of an unknown power. Why should he trouble himself about his poor agency when he obeys the behests of that destiny which rolls on its unfaltering course, like the car of Juggernath, crushing bleeding myriads beneath its mighty wheels ?when he is but an atom in that univers~ which the plastic * Bhagavad.Gita, as quoted by Cousin. Introduction. Lect. III. 1840.J The 1rogres~ of Society. hand of omnipotence is constantly moulding ifito new and ever-varying shapes. The practical effect of such opinions is obvious. Under them the mind of man issunk in stupor, his energies are paralyzed, his will is extinguished, and he becomes the ready and willing slave of those whom he believes to be the immediate representatives of the Deity. His spirit is bound in chains of adamant, and all his powers are resigned ~o the control of another. Sunk in abject ignorance, he transfers his adoration from the great being of his creed to the types which have been invented to express his attributes or the laws whereby he regulates the universe. He departs still farther and farther from the image of his Maker, and the temple of the living God in his soul is destroyed, arch, dome, column, and altar fallen in one undistinguish- able ruin. Herein we have the source of the unbounded spiritual despotism which existed during the first civilization, for these opi- nions~ with little variation, were entertained throughout its whole ex- tent and duration. Under their operation, we may see the whole of a vast population without a will of their own, laboring as one man to pamper the lusts or gratify the whims of a privileged class or indi- vidual. Thus was produced the stupendous architecture of this era, which bears its impress. Vast, solid, gloomy, and covered with mystical hieroglyphs whose signification is lost, many specimens of it still stand, defying alike the decaying hand of time, and the fury of! the elements. This period at length drew near its close. Its mission was fulfilled~ and it faded away from the shores ef the Mediterranean like a dream of the night, thus making room for the developement of a better state. But, though long departed, its traces yet remain. They are not to be sought in the ruins that speak of its former pomp; and mark where it held sway. True, the gigantic pyramids still rear their vast bulk over the sands of the deserts: some massive column or flowered capi- tal still tells the adventurous traveller where stood Balbec and Pal- myra; the sphinx still gazes on the ever-flowing Nile with the same chilling expression of deep and mournful thoughtfulness; the mighty obelisk, removed from its x~ative site to a strange proximity to the magnificent fane of a new faith, still stands before St. Peters, and points the spectator to the skies, while from its sides look out the mysterious symbols which no one is left to interpret. Yet it is not here that we must look for the evidences of its power and influence. We must look for them in the impulse given by it to the young and fiery genius of Greece, and through her transmitted to us. We may see them in the direction given by it to her studies and the character impressed upon her theology and philosophy, which have had a mighty influence upon our own. Here we can discover what it has done for mankind; here we can see proof of the assertion that progress once effected is never lost, though for the season it may pause and waver. Before leaving this period we must direct our attention for a moment E2 74 The Progress of Society. [JuIy~ to a particular people, who, though of little political importance, have played a part of vast moment in the drama of history. They are the Hebrews, and are most properly classed here, because resembling the nations just referred to in their efforts at theocratic government, in the restriction of their priesthood to a single family, and in the joint action of this and the throne in the exercise of a power almost unlimited. They differed widely from them, however, in the posses- sion of an austerely simple and sublime faith, which was kept pure by its very simplicity, never degenerating into the adoration of sym- bols. Whatever idolatry we find among the Jews, was borrowed fronr their recollections of the Egyptian worship or their intimacy with neighboring countries. Ruled in all their actions by the com- prehensive and minute code of Moses, they preserved their peculiar character through many vicissitudes and misfortunes, as they do in a measure at the present day. Carried into captivity, and their temple razed to the ground, they sat by the rivers of Babylon and wept, hanging their harps upon the willows, until the Lord should call them back to build Jerusalem again. One after another the floods of con- quering foes rolled over their ill-fated city, like the waves of th~ ocean over some devoted bark that lies struggling and beating among the shoals. The Assyrian, the Persian, the Macedqnian, and the Roman in turn came down upon them like the wolves on the fold, but they clung with unyielding constancy to their faith and their law. But this law was merely ceremonial, and typical of better things yet unrevealed. It prescribed a ritual of worship, and contained many wise police and sanatory regulations, well adapted to the people for whom it was intended. The Levitical priesthood, created for the purpose of car- rying it into operation, was like itself but temporary, and must in the fulness of time be abrogated. The moment for this great event at length arrived, but not amid the pomp and circumstance of war, or the terrible convulsions of revolution. Nowhile gentle angel voices hymned peace on earth, there emerged from the broad bosom of Hu- manity a simple, humble Man, but also a true High Priest, made after the primeval order of Melchizedeck, not by the imposition of human hands or the sanction of human authority, but by the might of Spirit, and so abiding a priest continually. He appeared among men a messenger of mercy, preaching the gospel to the poor, denouncing the pride of hypocrisy, and teaching a sublimely pur6 and spiritual morality. When his ministry was finished in martyrdon~, the veil of the temple was rent in twain, the Holy of Holies, where the divine presence is made manifest, was established from thenceforth in the breast of the believer, the priesthood under the law was abolished, and the legions of Titus, sweeping the city and its temple from the earth, scattered the remnant of Israel like chaff before the north wind. But, though conquered and dispersed, this people has left an inestimable legacy to mankind in that faith which is spreading it 1840.J The Progress of Society. genial light over us even now, thus fulfilling the promise given to their great progenitor, that in him should all the families of the earth be blessed. Their dispersion may be regarded as the final extinction of the first civilization in all those regions which have affected us. Long fallen into decay and comparative unimportance, it was now extin- guished. In the southern and eastern portions of Asia it still retain- ed its pristine grandeur, but these people have exerted no influence in the formation of our forms of society. Let us now go back some centuries to regard a newer civilization, which had long before dawned, had reached its noon-day splendor, and at the date of this memorable event was verging to its decline. The rude Pelasgi, inhabiting the rugged shores of Attica, had early made considerable amelioration in their original condition, deriving much from their more advanced neighbors of Egypt and Phmnicia. No vast spiritual power existing to bind them together in one wide empire, numerous states were formed, each city governing the sur- rounding country. Soon afterward, the hardy tribes of Italy, stimu- lated probably by the Greek colonies in Sicily and Magna Gr~ecia, commenced that progress which was destined to lead to such astound- ing results. Its states were impressed with the same character as those of Greece, and in these two countries was developed a condi- tion of society very different from that just described. There was everywhere exhibited a strong tendency to a republican constitution. r~ his was displayed earliest and most strongly by the Athenians, for it is remarkable that Homer applies the term people to them alone of all the cities concerned in the Trojan war. A pure republican form was, however, never attained, for in all cases th~ highest authority was lodged in the hands of some privileged individual or class, generally in a monarch, sorfietimes in a wealthy aristocracy, as at Athens and Rome. This authority was occasionally limited, and in a measure controlled, by direct representatives of the lower classes, as the Ephori at Sparta, and the Tribunes of the People at Rome, but the most odious distinctions always existed. These nations are frequent- ly mentioned as democratic, yet we must not suppose that even in their best condition any of them deserved this title as at present un- derstood, for in none was there recognised the equality of human rights or the importance of the individual. Men were mnde for governments, not governments for and by men. The People may have been there, but the simple humble Man is nowhere to be per- ceived. The individual was lost in the state. This was indeed the leading idea of this society, and it involves a despotism almost as intolerable as that of the preceding. There, the property, life, and honor of the subject were ~nt the mercy of a human tyrant; here, the citizen owed all to a hypothetical despot, the State, the only allevia- tion of the latters lot being, that he felt his own honor exalted and interest promoted in those of his country. We may see an example of this in Rome, and more strikingly still in Sparta, where, under the 76 The Progress of Society. [Jul y iron laws of Lycurgus, the free action of the private citizen was repressed by an equable distribution of property, enforced poverty, the exclusion of ornamental arts, common meals, and interruption of the domestic relations. Such a state must be essentially warlike, for it is by military achievements that the glory of the republic may be best promoted, and those in power found it advisable to draw off the attention of the people from too close a scrutiny of internal affairs by foreign conflict and conquesta lesson which the rulers of the earth have not yet forgotten. In Athens, much greater scope was given to the energy of individual action than elsewhere, and hence we find here more popular commotion, together with a much more rapid and extended prograss in the arts, sciences, and philoso- phy. This civilization differs widely from the other in a religious aspect also. Although the theology of Greece, and, throtigh her, of Rome, was derived mainly from Egypt, it departed considerably from its model, and never was able to assume the same mysterious sway over the minds of the people. This latter fact may perhaps be accounted for by its foreign origin. The priesthood never obtained an influence comparable with that which they possessed in eastern nations. They were universally subject to the state. The Roman senate could create or dethrone divinities at pleasure, and while it displayed a singu- lar lenity toward the creeds of all conquered countries, placing in the crowded Pantheon the grotesque images of their gods, it could also exert as high an authority in a contrary direction. The impure orgies of Bacchus having been introduced at Rome, the senate, justly alarm- ed, suppressed them by an edict, and banished all who participated in them from Italy. The more enlightened individuals were not back- ward in displaying their contempt of the prevalent Worship. Socrates refused to be initiated into the Eleusinian Mysteries, although admis- sion to them was generally considered a high privilege. The lofty scepticism of Lucretius was also the faith of a numerous and power- ful sect, and the Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, even of Virgil, will suggest itself at once to every classic re~ider. Cicero speaks without reserve of the folly of auguries; and Cato the Censor informs us that in his day no two soothsayers could look each other in the face without laughing. Yet, by a strange inconsistency, these very persons contended for a strict observance of the ordinary forms. The general Marcellus resorted to a singular device to evade them without shocking the superstitious feelings of his soldiers, causing himself to be shut up in a litter while upon a march, lest he might be obliged to halt by the sinister flight of birds, should he see them. Cicero, even while ridiculing the art of divination, blames those who neglect the auspices, conceiving it proper to respect the general faith and popular prejudice. But it is not only in the comparative want of respect and influence on the part of the clergy that this discrepancy exists. The religion 1840.] The Progress of Society. 77 of the second civilization was much less abstruse and mystical than that of the first. This may be perceived in their respective objects. of worship. The gods of Egypt and the East were mythologi- cal and astronomical symbols, and forms of animals or arbitrary figures used to represent some power or principle. Hence they were grotesque and strongly composite in shape. Those of Greece and Rome were deified heroes, or personations of some single virtue, sentiment, or passion. They assumed almost exclusively the human form in its greatest beauty or grandeur, expressing any essen- tial attribute by some superadded symbol, and hence we have those exquisite specimens of statuary which still are objects of wonder and delighted admiration. The mythology of Egypt was the highest phi- losophy of its day, shadowing forth the most profound dogmas in strange fables or occult hieroglyphics. That of Greece was mainly composed of poetic narratives, the actors in whose dances displayed all the feel- ings and even the worst passions of men, and where the original mysti- cal signification was no longer distinguishable. Under these circum- stances the priests ceased to be the sole depositories of learning and teachers of the people, thus losing the power proper to superior know- ledge. A literature was demanded more in accordance with the prevail- ing character of mind and the spirit of the age, and teachers soon arose from among the mass of the people. The voice of the bard was heard in princely hall and peasants hut, singing the exploits of hero- ism, the charms of beauty, ~nd the praise of virtue. Admiring crowds gathered around the Thespian cart, and soon after in the sumptuous theatre, to listen to the wonderful conceptions of the dramatist. Ci- ties poured out their shouting population to welcome and lead back in triumph the poet or rhetorician who had borne off the olive-wreath from the Olympic games. Orators contended in the noble strife who should most enlist the attention and direct the councils of an assem- bled people. Historians recorded the spirit-stirring narrative of battle, and the mighty deeds of their heroes. Beneath the pencil there glowed brighter hues and shapes more lovely than those of earth. The breathing marble was wrought into forms as beauteous as poets dream. Science investigated the varied phenomena with which she found herself surrounded, and sought on all sides to penetrate this all-enshrouding mystery wherein we dwell and labor. Divine philo- sophy arose and shone brightly amid the general gloom. Socrates taught men how to think, and his successors employed the process in the elucidation of the laws which regulate the external world, and the wondrous microcosm of mans body, with its still more wondrous te- nant. An impulse was given to thought everywhere, and these en- sured a degree of intellectual activity ~and force, such as the world had not yet witnessed. Mathematics, physics, poetry, the drama, oratory and moral and mental philosophy, were cultivated with eager enthusiasm, and consequently with success. Wisdom was reverenced The Progress of Society. 78 [July, for its own sake. The philosopher was honored as much in the beg- gars mantle as in the royal purple or the priestly robes. Diogenes, contented in his tub, was sought and visited by Alexander. Thus was shown and recognised the inborn dignity of a man, true to his better nature, independent of all external accidents. This activity of mind led, as an inevitable consequence, to another peculiarity of this civilization, social instability and frequent fluctua- tions of popular sentiment and opinion. Numerous philosophical sects arose, having for the most part sufficient general resemblance to mark their original derivation from the banks of the Nile, but presenting wide discrepancies. The views of the people were subject to fre- quent and violent revulsions, and innovations upon existing institutions became common. Ardent, restless, ever looking for something better, and urged on by a spirit of enterprise, they commenced the boldest un- dertakings, and prosecuted them with vigor. Impelled by the thirst of conquest, and led on by ambitious generals, Rome went abroad in conscious strength to the conquest of the known world. But in this unceasing activity there were the seeds of decay. Greece sank almost as suddenly as she had risen, for the brightness of her glory had scarcely shone in full effulgence over the marble city of Minerva before it began to fade. Leaving their native seats, philosophy and the arts rallied for a little season on the banks of the Tiber, but it was at the time when Rome presented the singular spectacle of the high- est intellectual cultivation, combined with a moral developement hardly superior to that of the savages of the wilderness. Her greatest crime was her greatest punishment, for her military spirit extinguished her liberties, and on the ruins of the stern republic arose the gorgeous empire. No page of history displays a tithe of the unprovoked crime and unmerited suffering that blackens that which records the deeds of the Roman emperors. The sickened mind turns with loathing horror from its perusal. Everything was done for the imperial city that the disruption of all natural ties, and the defiance of every law, human and divine, could do, and she rushed headlong to destruction. Her fall may be dated at the accession of Constantine and the removal of the seat of empire to Byzantium, for her subsequent history is but a part of the social chaos that ensued, These events were attended by another of signal importancethe recognition of the religion of the meek and lowly Jesus as that of the haughty rulers of the earth. The Christian church, after many long and bloody persecutions, was now at length enthroned in imperial state and invested with the royal purple. To herself the change was fraught with manifold evils, but she was enabled to play an important part in the reorganization of society, as will appear directly. Although more than a century elapsed between these events and the final extinction of the Empire of the West under Augustulus, we may consider them as the termination of the second civilization, for 1840.1 The Progress of Society. 79 all that intervenes between them and the developement of the third is a wild scene of tumult and anarchy. A dark and threatening cloud which had long hung upon the northern border of the Roman empire soon afterward burst upon it in all his fury. The imperial out-posts were driven in, and hordes of fierce barbarians, swarming from the savage north, filled the provinces, and regardless of the barrier pre- sented by the frozen Alps, poured down resistlessly upon the smiling plains of Italy. The outer provinces of the empire were occupied by numerous tribes, who were scarcely in possession of their prey, befoie they were driven farther south by new crowds of conquering warriors. Rome itself was at last taken, and a Goth sate upon the throne of the Ctesars. After numerous furious contests among themselves, the barbarians settled in their new seats in comparative peace, and the scattered elements of society began to reunite in something like order. Now it was that the church came upon the stage of action and displayed its healing power. The clergy had already become separate from the people, and formed a society or body of themselves. The bishops, very different from the original heads of the churches, had been invested by the emperors with municipal authority, as they saw the civil constitution everywhere dissolving while the ecclesiasti- cal remained firm, and now presented a singular combination of the noble and prelate. The church, thus organized, could not stem the torrent that flowed in upon it from the north, but it could preve~it some of its devastating effects by making proselytes. of the conquerors. With this view it bent all its energies to the task of converting the barbarians, and the gigantic enterprise was accomplished successfully throughout Europe, so that, while a new society was established, it had the principle of Christianity infused into it in its very infancy. Receiving numerous important privileges from the zeal of its new converts, the church increased rapidly in power, and, at the period of the greatest prosperity of the Lombard kingdom in Italy, was, with the exception of that portion in the eastern empire, firmly bound toge- ther under the dominion of the Roman see, Gregory the Great as- suming the title of Pope. From this time it formed politically one of the greatest powers of Europe, while socially it kept alive what little of learning and philosophy remained; acted as an intermediate estate between the people and their masters; and presented to the lower classes the only path whereby any of their number could hope to reach eminence or authority. Its immense influence is proved by the bold interference of haughty prelates in the plans of monarchs, and by the innumerable hosts which, under its command, left their bones to bleach on the plains of Asia Minor in the mad crusades for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre. It is difficult to decide which presents the more striking and peculiar picture of its swaythe wild crowd of ragged enthusiasts that followed in the train of Peter the Hermit, or that scene of the humiliation of Barbarossa, where thc 80 The Progress of Society. [July, proud Kaiser was obliged to prostrate himself before the pontiff whom he alone in his day had been bold enough to defy, and abjectly kiss his feet in the presence of a wondering multitude. The constitution of society, meanwhile, was of barbarian origin and essentially feudal. The only points in this system we have space to notice, or which, indeed, are important to us here, are, that it maintained a warlike spirit, privileges being generally granted on condition of military service; that it removed the greater amount of power from the cities to the country, each lord living on his own domain in the midst of his vassals; and that it kept up a considerable degree of personal independence. The peasants and artisans were slaves in the strictest sense of the term, but the number of persons holding possessions in their own right was very considerable, and among them existed a high sense of personal liberty. True, the baron owed allegiance to some higher noble and to his king, but he rendered it under the principle of loyalty, and this he regarded as not less noble and undebasing than his homage to his lady-love. This leads us to another characteristic of this timethe peculiar relation of the sexes. In former ages woman had never risen to be more than the slave of mans passions, and thus we perceive that all the erotic poetry of the ancients is entirely sensual, however refined it may be. Here, however, woman rises nearer to her true rank, and assumes a more equal stationsentiment takes the place of appetiteand we have at once produced the poetry of love. Love became a religion, the idols of whose worship were evev present.~~* Fanciful, and even absurd, as frequently was the devotion painted by the Trouveurs and Minnesiingers of those days~ they yet clothed the dull realities of mens daily walks with poetic life and beauty, and raised them from sensuality to the pure regions of spiritual love. Under the influence of these two sentiments, love and loyalty, was produced that fantastic folly, chivalry, whose romantic features have made it a veil to hide from the eyes of so many the darker aspects of this agethe immea- surable wrongs of the oppressed masses, sunk in abject degradation, and almost every vestige of humanity crushed out by the iroti heel of military despotism, or defaced by the subtle poison of superstition. Such was feudal society, and the only exceptions to it existed in the free corporate cities, examples of which we may see in most parts of Europe, but especially among the commercial towns of Italy and on the shores of the German Ocean. These were in effect attempts to reorganize the second civilization in the midst of an entirely different society. Although acting in their external relations as lords and vassals, rendering and receiving feudal servic~, their internal arrange- ment was modelled upon the republican forms of antiquity. rrhey did not obtain any great importance until the twelfth century, although originating much earlier. * Shelley. Defence of Poetry. 1840.] Tile Progress of Society. 81 This condition of society continued with little improvement until the fifteenth century, when there occurred one of the most momen- tous events of modern history, known as the revival of letters. What little learning existed previously was confined to the cloister of the monks, and was principally theological. Some addition had been made to this by the knowledge of the East derived from the crusades, but it was of little practical utility. The first impetus givea to the revival was by the Moors of Spain. Learning and all the accomplish- ments of civilized life were encouraged at the brilliantcourt of Gra- nada to an extent that should have put all Christendom to the blush The study of astrology and alchemy was carried hence into all parts of Europe, and cultivated assiduously, because promising the disco- very of means for the prediction of human events, the creation of gold at pleasure, and even the indefinite prolongation of human life. About this time also occurred the capture of Constantinople by the Turks, and the final overthrow of the Eastern Empire, when many learned Greeks sought refuge in Western Europe, carrying with them their language and the inestimable volumes of their ancestors. A taste for classical studies was excited, and they were prosecuted with ardor. A strong impulse was given to thought in every direction, and it seem- ed as though the mind of man had been awakened from the sleep of ages with renewed energies. From this time, social progress was rapid beyond parallel. A higher philosophy was substituted for the windy logic of the schoolmen. Science advanced with rapid strides, adding to its stores of knowledge, and aiding the powers of man with numerous useful arts and inventions. Reading and thinking men multiplied on all hands, and the discovery of the art of printing pre- sented the means of multiplying books in an equal ratio. Commer- cial enterprises increased in boldness and extent, and the voyagers returned laden with barbaric pearl and gold, and relating wondrous stories of distant climes. These circumstances all combined to lead to the Reformation, an event for which Europe had long been prepa- ring by a growing dissatisfaction on the part of the people and purer clergy with the pomp and licentiousness of the Papal establishment. At this period the triple crown had been placed upon the brow of Atheism in the peison of that true descendant of the talented, grace- ful, and luxurious Medici, Leo the Tenth. Pressed for means to com- plete his magnificent designs, he drew the already over-strained bow till it broke. The standard of revolt was raised by Luther, and many of the wisest and best of his day gathered round him. The new doctrines spread over Europe like fire among the dry grass on the prairie. This revolution, for such in fact it was, was based upon the principle that each individual is his own best interpreter, the only judge of his own faith. This was its cardinal idea, and although its leaders may not have recognised nor acted out this principle to its full extent, the people did it for them. The public mind was excited vOL. VIII. NO. XXXI.JIJLY, 1S40. F Tke Progress of Society. (JuIy~ to its highest pitch; theological questions were everywhero agitated; and each asserted the correctness of his own opinions while he cri- ticised those of his neighbors, so that the reformed church was soon divided into numerous sects. These feelings were carried to their greatest height in England, where the wars of the commonwealth, although involving numerous other considerations, were essentially religious, a mighty struggle of an oppressed people for the liberty of worshipping God according to the dictates of their conscience. With the theological tenets of these sects we have nothing to do at present, but it may be observed of their political tendencies, that the Prelatists displayed an inclination to preserve the old forms and poli- cy of government, while those advocating a Presbyterian church con- stitution generally looked for the establishment of religious common- wealths, upon the plan of the ancient republics. This was so obvi- ous that James I. perceived it, with all his folly; and in the celebrate& conference at Hampton Court, remarked, that a Scottish Presbytery agreed as xveil with monarchy as God and the Devil. The English Puritans had similar views, and endeavored to carry them into effect in their settlements in New England. The Fifth Monarchy men and other enthusiasts wished to reject all human authority, looking for the second comipg of the Messiah as immediately at hand. The excite- ment throughout Christendom was intense, and the order of society was shaken to its very foundation. The doctrinal warfare was car- ried on with extreme virulence on all hands, and the sword of perse- cution was not infrequently called in to enforce conviction where ar- gument had failed. Tranquillity was at length restored, however, and the excitement subsided, but not till after many had been drawn into exile, to seek a realization of their desires in the wilds of America; and thither we must follow them as the founders of a new empire and form of society. The great discoveries of Columbus and his associates occurred at a most propitious moment for both continents. Had it taken place a century sooner, the first settlers -on these shores might have been like the bloody and rapacious Spaniards, and our fair plains might have pre- sented the same melancholy aspect as do those of South America~ But they were made just before the time when numbers of the no~ blest hearts of England, worn by oppression and persecution, or wearied with struggling against spiritual wickedness in high places determined to leave the home of their childhood, with all its endeam ing recollections, in search of a situation where they might sit in peace under their own vine and fig tree, and enjoy the smiles of an approving conscience. A door was opened to them in America, and hither they came. The standard of equal rights was planted upon Plymouth Rock, and - the first settlement in New England was esta- blished upon the broad ground of human equality before God and man. It is true that the majority could not reach so far as the principle f 1840.] The Progress of Society. 83 toleration, much less of religious liberty, but we must recollect that when the fathers of the Bay Colony persecuted the Quakers and Hutchinsonians, they did it, not in order to enforce uniformity of belief, but to drive out those that disagreed with them from the province which they had purchased, and reclaimed from the wilderness, as an asylum for themselves and their faith. When the colonies took high- er ground, Massachusetts was not long in coming up to them. A great similarity of views and feelings was produced throughout all the English settlements, although composed originally of very dissi- milar materials. The principal peculiarities of colonial society were general equality of rank and easiness of condition, together with the fact that cheapness of land and value of labor caused most persons to have their own portion of soil for cultivation. Hence arose a manly and independent spirit, a distaste for the gradations in transatlantic society, and a jealous watchfulness over their own liberties. When these were encroached upon in the slightest degree, the public atten- tion was aroused and resistance was offered. The war of the Revo- lution was one of principle. No taxation without representation, had become an axiom in colonial politics, and rather than submit to its violation, our fathers took up arms against their rulers. The rights of the colonies were trampled upon, and their liberties endangered, by that mother country which shouhil have been their chief protector, and spurning the yoke, they declared themselves free and independent in that glorious instrument which must descend to the latest posterity as the epitome of political philosophy and great charter of humanity. It introduced a new principle into the science of government, that of the paramount importance of individual freedom and happiness, to which great object all authority must be subservient in order to be legitimate. It has been said that this was a new principle. It was new among civilized nations; yet it was no new creation, for it is a portion of that eternal, absolute truth, which would have existed, and been truth, quite as much had society never been called into being. We have already seen it in action, as the cardinal idea of the primitive commu- nity. After this it disappears for ages. We see no traces of it in the first civilization, where the rights of the individual are lost in a gloomy despotism, based upon the assumption of divine authority. Neither do we find it in the second, where the citizen loses his individuality in his connexion with a common body whose glory is his chief duty and greatest good. In the third, we have a representative of the first in the Church, aiming at the establishment of a so-called theocratic rule; and of the second in the free cities, together with a new ele- ment, a wealthy landed aristocracy, each petty baron a despot on his own domain, and all confederated in a national form by common interests under the sentiments of loyalty and knightly honor. In the free spirit of the numerous aristocracy of this period we see some approach to the great principle just laid down, but no one drea~ied of 84 The Progress of Society. [July, extending it to the mass of the people. Yet it had long before been asserted in its fullest extent. Although unseen by sage or sophist, it had been taught among the humble fishermen of Judea, and received by them as manna from heaven. One had appeared of gentle worth by the shores of the Sea of Gallilee, proclaiming that the spirit of the Lord was upon him, because he had anointed him to preach the Gos- pel to the poor, denouncing wo upon the pride of sinful power, and teaching men to call no one master upon earth, while standing fast in their allegiance to their Master and Father in heaven. Although the dim eye of that age could not perceive the full import of these glori- ous precepts, they were not altogether without fruit, but produced a beneficial effect upon society through the church. They kept its offices open to the son of the humblest peasant, if endowed with the talents and energy to attain them; and no heresy could conceal the sublime doctrine that the Creator is no respecter of persons, and that before his bar prince and beggar must stand upon the same levelthat there, if not before, will be asserted the common equality of mankind. These truths, however, were seen but obscurely, in broken glimpses, for many weary centuries. They shone out in partial splendor at the Reformation, but after some convulsive throes, the current of feeling returned in a great measure to its former channels, and old feudal Europe prepared again to run her wonted course amid the gray de- crepitude of her institutions. Yet at this very period they were again asserted in their native purity, and as before(and, indeed, as they ever must be)first among the oppressed and down-trodden of our race, upon whom the forms of a defective society weigh most heavily. While tumultuous warfare shook Christendom to its centre, as wild a conflict was waging in the breast of a poor English shoemaker. Hemmed in on all sides by multiform evil, bound down by the straps and bandages of formality and custom, looking for light and unable to find it, his spirit was torn by terrible agitation. Anxious and tempest- tossed, he sought everywhere advice and consolation, but found no- thing to reach his case, till in the midst of his distress it came to him that he too was a child of God, the work of his hands, and that in his breast also was the fitting temple, where the promised Comforter might come and abide with him, leading him into all truth. Impress- ed with this conviction, which came to his soul as though noon-day splendor had suddenly burst forth amid thick darkness, George Fox went abroad to preach his doctrines, saying thee and thou~ to all men, and forbidden by the spirit to doff his hat to king or kaiser. Of the correctness of his opinions we say nothing, but their influence in the formation of our political creed is undeniable. They led at once to the denial of all human authority in spiritual matters, as well as of degrees of rank and social distinction; and their beneficial tendencies were early displayed in the settlement of Pennsylvania. Lord Balti- more had previously provided that no settler in his colony should be disturbed on account of his religious tenets, and Roger Williams had 18404 The Progress of Society. 85 yarned out the same idea even more fully; but William Penn esta- blished his little band upon the banks of the Delaware on a principle not to be expressed by that weak word, toleration, but the fullest re- ligious liberty, no man daring to step in between the soul of his brother and Him who made it, and to whom alone it is accountable. This principle almost insensibly extended itself over the continent, and united with others that were floating through the minds of men, in the formation of that social creed, which, long held in greater or less clearness, was finally embodied in the Declaration of Indepen- dence, by the hand of one who combined in himself the qualities of the statesman, the philosopher, and the philanthropistthe immortal Jefferson. The publication of this document was one of the most important events in the history of the world. Wherever it has gone it has called forth a quick response from the deep heart of man, sounding to the slave of ages like the voice of home to the captive exile, and to tyrants, like the trump of an archangel pronouncing their doom. Its influence, past, present, and future, is incalculable. Its doctrines were received with rapturous avidity by the friends of humanity throughout the earth. Its effects have been displayed in a long-continued strug- gle for social improvement and constitutional reform. They were seen in France, in a revolution in which the people, shaking off their immemorial chains, made a desperate, frantic, and, alas! fruitless effort to realize a state of society for which they were unprepared. They failed, and fell beneath the sway of a despot who has been well denominated the anarch of their own bewildered powers ; and other nations, making a similar attempt, have like them failed. The first heat of enthusiasm over, Europe after long disorder has settled down in comparative quiet, in a singular truce between her ancient feudalism and the principles of American freedom. These latter have now become the prevalent philosophy of the day, and are taught in the universities of Germany and from the professorial chairs of Paris, with a boldness which many on this side the Atlantic might profit by imitating. Meanwhile we have carried them into successful opera- tion in our various governments, and are happy beneath a rule more mild and salutary than any yet known. The unquiet elements which produce incessant change may still be at work, but covertly and with little disturbance, so that peace reigns over the world. Where will the storm burst next? Who can tell? Such is a concise and necessarily a very imperfect sketch of the history of our race. When regarding this, who can doubt its pro- gress? Who can believe that the history of society is, as has been said, that of the mill-wheel, that emerges into the light of day, only to be buried again in the depths of the stream. If a comparison of this character is at all allowable, it should be madenot to the mill- wheel which, impelled by the current, revolves for ever with ceaseless din, while remaining in one placebut to that which bore the Olym 86 The Progress of Society~ [July, pic charioteer, which, if it did go round, yet described its rapid course over the sand, as it hastened him to the goal of his ardent de- sire. Standing where we do, we can look back through the dark vista of antiquity, and see the founders of the second civilization, sti- inulated and aided by the first, commencing its course on higher ground, and prosecuting it with greater success. We can see the third begin its career, guided by the experience, and enriched with much of the learning and arts of the preceding, while we enjoy the fruits of all their labors. We have as deep a sense of the existence of an infinite being in majesty and power as characterized the first civilization, expressed in a purer faith and without its melancholy re- sults. We have all the mental energy and activity of the second, with much of its polity, without the despotism of the state. We have a spirit of sturdy independence derived in a great measure from the third, with much of its domestic and social relations, without its feu- dal slavery, and superadded to all, we have the full expression of that great doctrine of human rights which lies at the bottom of Chris- tianity, regarded in its social aspect. We enjoy manifold advantages granted as yet to no other people, and stand at a height to which those of past ages dared scarcely to aspire. Truly the lines have fallen to us in pleasant places, and our cups of blessing have been filled to overflowing. But the question naturally arisesmust the course of society stop here? Shall we, because the hand of an overruling Providence has placed our lots at this particular point of time, venture to turn our eyes away from the future, and, looking backward only at the past, say to the ever-swelling tide of human progressthus far shalt thou come and no farther? Why should we deny to our posterity the ability to press as far in advance of us as we have gone beyond our predecessors? It cannot be. Even now the forecast shadow of enming events falls upon us. Let us but look around us, and, although the smoke of battle does not obscure the sky, and the tumult of revo- lution does nowhere fill the air, we may yet see all the causes pro- ductive of change silently but surely at work. The principle of progress is in unimpeded operation. The elements of society are in restless fermentation throughout Europe, foreshadowing some impend- ing commotion. We may see this in the outbreakings of the German students, the hot impetuosity of youth drinking too deeply of liberal and classic lore. We may see it in France, in the fierce ebullitions of popular fury which indicate on how insecure a basis rests the throne of Louis Philippe. We may see it in the reform petitions, Chartist tumults, and all the other ~igns which show that the mighty mind of the English people is aroused to demand an amelioration in their condition and must be obeyed. We may see it on our own northern frontier in the movements which give fresh proof of the fact that a new American coipmunity cannot long remain satisfied with the antiquated forms of feudal Europe. We may see the same spirit 1~4O.] The Progress of Society. 87 displayed in our own country in the numberless schemes, both feasi- ble and absurd, for social improvementsin the loud demand for universal educationin the increasing associations for the diffusion of light and knowledgein the devoted heroism of the missionaries of the Cross, who take their lives in their hands, and go to bear the Gospel, with its accompanying liberty and~civili~ation, to the distant heathen. Here are many and prominent signs; and if they mean anything, they must indicate that some new change in the aspect of the world is approaching. When and what shall it be? There are many who believe that the good yet in store for our race is not remote that, though our feet are not permitted to enter the happy precincts of the promised land, yet we have gained a Pisgah height from whence we may gain some glimpses of its silver streamlets, fertile valleys, and plains laughing under the load of abounding harvestsand that the day when admission to it shall end mans weary pilgrimage through this wilderness of thorns is not far off. God grant it may be so! In the meantime the eyes of the world are fixed upon the citizens of this young republic. To us much has been given, and much will be required of us. We have been placed in the forefront of the bat- tle, in the cause of Man against the powers of evil which have so long crushed him to the dust. The problem of his capacity for self- government is to be solved here. Our mission is to elevate him to a sense of his native dignity, and to prove that in the great social inte- rest of religion, and, to a much greater extent than has been believed, in all his relations, he should be left to the individual action of his own will and conscience. Let us but establish this, and the race will have made an advance from which nothing short of the hand of Om- nipotence can force it to recede. rro no other has been committed the ark of mans hopes, and it remains to be seen whether we will faint by the way or bear it on in triumph. Surely we cannot fail of success in such a cause! Surely we cannot falter when so much depends upon our perseverance to the end! Yet it may be possible. We may prove false to our trust. We may fail of the high mission that has been assigned us. If so, then the same mysterious hand that affrighted Belshazzar amid the gorgeous magnificence of his im- pious feast will write upon our dishonored institutions, the glory hat/i departed; our place will be taken from among the nations; our portion will be given to strangers; and our name will be recorded in the history of eternity on the same page with that of the false disci- ple who betrayed the Master that had called him out of darkness into his marvellous light. But, depend upon it, the progress of society never can be checked, for it takes place under the laws of a mighty destiny, whose course can no more be impeded by all the feeble pow.~ er of man, than can that of the countless orbs that rush rolling and burning through space, as they swell the choial song of the sphere~ to the praise of Him that sitteth on the throne for ever~ 88 Who Governs, then? [July, WHO GOVERNS, THENl A TALE OF THE COURT OF 101115 XV. (From the German of Zschokke.) 1. THII BOOK-KEEPER. I AM ruined, Colas ! exclaimed Monsieur Larmes, as he returned at an unusual hour from the bureau of the Admiralty, at Paris, in which he was book-keeper, throwing himself with a countenance of despair into his easy chair I am ruined! We must part. I can no longer provide you a home, Colas, and grieved am I that I can no longer perform my pledge to your mother, to be through life a second father to you ! Nicholas Rosier, who had never before seen his master in such a state, stood as if thunderstruck at these words. Without Monsieur Larmes, who had taken him into his house about a year and a half before, he was in fact the most lonely being on the face of the earth. In the village where he had lived with his mother, a poor seamstress, he had learned little more than to write a handsome hand, and with the trifling earnings he was thus able to make as a copyist he was barely able to defray their humble household expenses. Monsieur Larmes, who had been an early friend of his mother, had had the kindness to receive the young man into his house, giving him em- ployment as a copyist, and treating him as his own son. Nicholas was a worthy young fellow, and an object, therefore, of much affection to Monsieur Larmes; who being a solitary old bachelor of sixty, had destined him for the sole heir, at some future day, of his little pro- perty. Ruined ! said l~4icholas what have you done ? It is that I have not done an act that I have been commanded to do, replied the book-keeper, throwing his pocket-book upon the ta- ble. But we will speak of that presently. I will give you wha ready money I have, as my last legacy. If you do not see me to-mor- row, or if I am in prison, then go and seek for other employment wherever you can find it; and never consider me other than an honest man, whatever they may accuse me of. Nicholas was distracted with wonder and grief. He implored his foster-father with tears in his eyes to tell him what had taken place, and swore rather to die than forsake him. The old man after a long silence at last said: Colas, to you, and you alone, do I dare tell it. Listen, but wo will betide you if you ever repeat it. It would cost you your libertyperhaps your life, as

Who Governs, Then? A Tale of the Court of Louis XV. (From the German of Zschokke) 88-96

88 Who Governs, then? [July, WHO GOVERNS, THENl A TALE OF THE COURT OF 101115 XV. (From the German of Zschokke.) 1. THII BOOK-KEEPER. I AM ruined, Colas ! exclaimed Monsieur Larmes, as he returned at an unusual hour from the bureau of the Admiralty, at Paris, in which he was book-keeper, throwing himself with a countenance of despair into his easy chair I am ruined! We must part. I can no longer provide you a home, Colas, and grieved am I that I can no longer perform my pledge to your mother, to be through life a second father to you ! Nicholas Rosier, who had never before seen his master in such a state, stood as if thunderstruck at these words. Without Monsieur Larmes, who had taken him into his house about a year and a half before, he was in fact the most lonely being on the face of the earth. In the village where he had lived with his mother, a poor seamstress, he had learned little more than to write a handsome hand, and with the trifling earnings he was thus able to make as a copyist he was barely able to defray their humble household expenses. Monsieur Larmes, who had been an early friend of his mother, had had the kindness to receive the young man into his house, giving him em- ployment as a copyist, and treating him as his own son. Nicholas was a worthy young fellow, and an object, therefore, of much affection to Monsieur Larmes; who being a solitary old bachelor of sixty, had destined him for the sole heir, at some future day, of his little pro- perty. Ruined ! said l~4icholas what have you done ? It is that I have not done an act that I have been commanded to do, replied the book-keeper, throwing his pocket-book upon the ta- ble. But we will speak of that presently. I will give you wha ready money I have, as my last legacy. If you do not see me to-mor- row, or if I am in prison, then go and seek for other employment wherever you can find it; and never consider me other than an honest man, whatever they may accuse me of. Nicholas was distracted with wonder and grief. He implored his foster-father with tears in his eyes to tell him what had taken place, and swore rather to die than forsake him. The old man after a long silence at last said: Colas, to you, and you alone, do I dare tell it. Listen, but wo will betide you if you ever repeat it. It would cost you your libertyperhaps your life, as 1840.1 Who Governs, then? 89 it will mine. It is well perhaps, however, to confide it to you, that you at least, if no soul else, may believe in my innocence. Be silent as the grave. And if you ever should be rash enough to destroy yourself, do not at least speak before I am dead. Nicholas pledged himself to fulfil all his foster-fathers demands. Monsieur Larmes then proceeded: There is a deficit in the trea- sury of more than half a million. The affair has been divulged, and is no longer to be concealed. My principal, M. de Gatry, has ruined himself byhis dissolute prodigality. To save himself he would now sa- crifice another than the true offender. God knows for what offence I am his selected victim. He offered me forty, sixty thousand livres, if I would acknowledge myself guilty in his stead, in a letter under my own hand addressed to him. He threw himself upon his knees before me. Because I have no wife nor children, and am my own master, with, nothing to risk and everything to gain, while he would bring disgrace upon his rank, his office, the honor of his family, his wife and children, and all that belonged to him, he believed it would be an easy matter for me to submit to his demandto write a letter to him, for every line of which he would requite me with ten thousand livres, and to fly to a foreign country. He sprang up like a madman when I, a poor but honest man, began with all due modesty to give utterance to my trembling objections. But presently resuming his coolness, he again began: There is no retreat for you. I de- mand from you the books of control and those of the treasury. I have already altered them to my purposes. If you, therefore, persist in ruining me, by God, you shall first pay the penalty of your own life. Choose. We are playing life for life. This was the purport of his words. I was so terrified that I knew not how to act, or how to extricate myself. The perspiration gushed from every pore. In his phrenzy I believed him to be on the point of assassinating me. He could then have easily reported that I had confessed myself guilty of embezzlement, had entreated his pardon, and, not~obtaining it, had committed suicide on the spot. Oh, Colas, of what is not such a man capable ! That man is the incarnate arch-fiend ! cried Nicholas. I will fly to the ministerto the Cardinal Bernisto the kingto implore his protection. Do you wish to devote yourself to death ! exclaimed Monsieur Larmes. You have promised to be silent. Do not attempt a single step, nor utter a single syllable. When the time comes, counsel comes with it. I have asked for a respite. M. de Gatry has granted me twen- ty-four hours. To-morrow morning, precisely at ten oclock, I must bring hin~ my decision. Here is the letter which he gave me him- self, for me to copy and address to him, and I must fly with extra post haste, or I shall be a prisoner at eleven. Till then, I am not allowed to leave the house. You too are forbidden to go out. He has men F2 90 Who Governs, then? [July, employed to watch us. My life as well as yours is at stake. The madman will hesitate at nothing. And what will you do, Monsieur Larmes ? inquired Nicholas, anxiously. I place my trust in God! He does not permit innocence to be oppressed, Colas. I will be silent, and hope for the best. I will wait till they imprison me. In the hands of justice I shall at least be safe from assassins. Then I will speak, come what may. God does not forsake innocence. rPill then, be silent. I will give you all my ready money. Should I be innocently condemned, and should the wretch crush me through the mighty influence of his family, remem- ber to remain always an honest man, and look out for yourself. Your ruin can be of no avail to me. They tallied for some time longer about this dreadful affairthe book-keeper with the firm courage of a good conscience, Nicholas with the despair and grief of a grateful, affectionate son. Monsieur Larmes by degrees acquired greater calmness and composure, the more Nicholas lost both. The former in endeavoring to impart con- solation to his ward found it himself. He directed him to go up to his room to work, and dissipate his grief as well as he could. In silence and sadness Nicholas obeyed; and Monsieur Larmes, who felt himself in the position of a dying man, proceeded to busy him- self with the arrangement and adjustment of his papers. 2. PAULINE. PALE and wringing his hands, Nicholas Rosier was pacing the inner court of the hotel, in the rear of which were the apartments occupied by Monsieur Larmes. The hotel belonged to the Count dOron, who with his wife had rendered it one of the most brilliant houses in Paris. It was even said that the Prince de Soubise was paying his addresses to the daughter of the count. The prince was indeed her frequent visiter, but was himself conscious enough that his visits were intended less for the young countess, than for her beautiful playmate and companion, Pauline de Pons. Pauline, an orphan, poor and dependent on the bounty of the count, but very lovely, payed little regard to the flatteries that were addressed to her by the prince, who, with forty years of experience, was deeply versed in all the intrigues of the court and of love. Herself in the freshest bloom of youth, her eye was all the clearer for that of her neighbor Nicho- las, whose age was about twenty-five. She had constantly, therefore, some important matter of business to arrange with him. - He had always to copy, either for herself or the countess, now a poem, or now a piece of music, for which he received some little compensation. But he would never have dreamed of the possibility of his having 1840.] Who Governs, then? 91 made an impression on the heart of Pauline. A constant intercourse with Pauline had indeed become a delightful necessity to him. Why should he not take pleasure in the company of the lovely girl? Yet did he not understand the silent glow of her eye, and he could meet her without exfiotion and leave her with tranquillity. He knew not even what love was. Pauline was standing at the window when the agitated Nicholas was pacing the court-yard. Terrified at the sight of the speechless agony in which she saw her favorite thus absorbed, lust! hist, Nicholas ! she whispered, beckoning to him with her hand. Looking up, he silently obeyed her summons. What is the matter with you, Nicholas? For Gods sake what has happened to you? she exclaimed, as he entered her room. He sighed but made no reply. Dear Nicholas, speakspeak, I entreat you! Your silence kills me. Has any misfortune befallen you? Con- fide it to me, however dreadful it may be. I conjure you, confide it to me! His only answer was again a deep sigh. Paulines anxiety had now risen to its highest pitch. How, Nicholas ! she cried do you not deem me worthy even of an answer? Have I offended you? Have you not the slightest regard for me? Do not leave me long in this terrible suspense! Oh, speak ! Lady Pauline, replied Nicholas, suffer me to maintain my si- lence. Speak I dare notbut we shall be forced to separate. To- morrow I leave this house, and perhaps Paris. At this announcement Pauline grew deadly pale. Faint and dizzy, she sank down to a seat, and gazed wildly on her companion, and gin sping his hand as if wishing to retain him, that he might not leave her, stammered out: Colas, why ? He still made no reply. She presently repeated the question with a trembling voice. Her eyes were full of tears. Have you so little confidence in me as to refuse to tell me the reason for which you are about to leave Paris? Colas, if you could feel so, I would hate you with all my heart if I were ableno, I would not do that. GoI have not a friend on earth but you. Goyou will find friends and female friends enough, but none who will sympathize more deeply with you in your joys and sorrows. Go! she repeated, covering her face with her hands, and sobbing aloud. Ah, dear Pauline, replied Nicholas, as he looked upon the beau- tiful weeper, with a heart pierced with grief it is not my fault that I must go. How gladly would I not remain! How touched am I with your sympathy! If you knew what I. At these words Pauline looked up to him and said: Ah, hypo- crite! I dear to you, and yet you so delight in torturing me! Thank heaven that I have no brother, for had he been like you I should have been in my grave long ago ! And if I had a sister, he sadly repeated and she resembled 92 Who Governs, then? [July, youyes, then I should be happy !then could I pour out my grief in her bosom. But Pour out your grief into mine. I can perhaps at least assist you with advice, dear Colas. Imagine me that sister. Here, take a sisters hand, as she arose and offered him her hand. Nicholas kissed the hand with timid respect, and looked in confu- sion into the beautiful eyes of his sister, who entreated him so ten- derly for his secret. What will it cost to unseal this silent mouth ? she said, tapping with her fingers upon his lips, and suffering her hand to fall negligently over upon his shoulders. I do not know how it hap- pened, that brother and sister, leaning thus cheek to cheek and mouth to mouth, forgot for the moment the expression of their feelings in words. But Nicholas felt himself changed. He actually saw a sister in the fair young Pauline de Pons. He had no longer a secret. After she had vowed eternal silence, he imparted all to her that he had him- self learned from Monsieur Larmes half an hour before. Pauline, terrified as she was at the recital of this intelligence, yet felt herself happy. She loved him, and imagined that nothing was impossible to love. Compose yourself, dear Colas, she said; you must not, you shall not leave me. Some iAeans shall be contrived to save your foster- father! But, said Nicholas, with an anxious sigh, without betraying anything ? If I could only devise some plan on the spot ! she cried, striking her forehead. Go, Colasgo and leave me alone. I will ponder upon itsomething must be done ! Nicholas departed; but turning back at the door, raised his finger threateningly, but with a smile: Sister Pauline, if you do betray me, I shall never again become the brother of another sister. 3. THE PRINCE DE SOUnIsE. AT the same moment the carriage of the Prince de Soubise stopped at the hotel. The prince was mounting the stairs as Pauline stepped out of the room, her face still flushed from that very sisterly tdte-it-tdte. The prince, who had never seen her more attractiveho~v could she appear otherwise in the glow of a first passion !almost lost the power of speech as he beheld the lady so radiant in all the happiness of love. Oh, heavens, how beautiful you are ! he exclaimed, kissing her hand. She conducted him into the saloon, and expressed her regret that he had missed the count, who had gone out in his carriage ac- companied by his wife and daughter. You regret it on my account, while I but congratulate myself. Would that every mischance in life might be requited to me like this ! was his answer. 1840.1 Who Governs, then? 93 Pauline, accustomed to his flatteries, paid as little heed to this as to all his other attentions. Her thoughts were with her newly adopt- ed brother, and she was striving to devise some means by which pro- tection might be extended to Monsieur Larmes. She had at first thought of disclosing the secret to the Count dOron. Through his in- fluence as well as through his prudence, she hoped to avert the threa- tened calamity from the head of the old book-keeperwho in a devout trust in heaven, and without any other prospect of help, patiently awaited his destiny. But her resolution failed her when she recol- lected the counts indolent selfishness and haughty indifference toward the troubles of others. The arrival of the prince suggested a very different plan. He, a member of the court, with ~the privilege of free access at all hours to the then all-powerful prime minister Bernis, and even to the king himself, he and he alone could save him. Most gracious lord, said she, addressing the prince, indeed I earnestly beg you to desist from this jesting, and let us speak of some- thing else. How, beautiful Pauline, cried the prince, do you then seriously consider love a jest ? Yours at least. If my love is a jest, then are heaven and earth, and all that they contain, a Jest, and there is nothing true under the sun. Nay, Pau- line, there is your own graceful figure, that glance of yours, then are all those seductive charms which surround you, a lie and a deceit ! Or it is your own eye that gives you the lie, because it fancies it sees more than it really does. No, too little of the whole extent of your charms, yet too much already for my own peace. Let me entreat you, Princefor what purpose do you talk to me in this fashion? Is it because you tire of my company? Let us speak of something better worth while. If it is beenuse you wish to prove to me that you are the most brilliant, polite, and accomplished man in Paris, that I know already as well as the whole court and city. Or because you wish me to believe all the pretty things you tell me ? ah, my gracious lord, I hope you will not think so ill of my under- standing ! What a sophist you are! Yes, if you ever believed in a truth, believe in the truth of that feeling yourself have awakened in my heart! Believe that I am ready at any moment to sacrifice my life to pour out my blood Heaven defend us! Speak not, Prince, of affairs of blood. I have no taste for such things. But if I have the honor in any degree to command your respect. You may command my all, all ! cried the Prince de Soubise, with a strain of protestations and vows of which we will not inflict a repetition upon our readers. Who Governs, then? [July, But the lady Pauline de Pons put them to the best use in her own way. She modestly ventured her request, which the prince declared already fulfilled before he had heard it. She then related in profound confidence the distressing affair of the old book-keeper, which she pretended to have heard by accident, and for whom, as a neighbor, she felt the most lively sympathy. My lord, she continued, you can here extend the glory of your silent virtues. You can save the innocentno other can effect this like youthis time no other than you. Your word is of weight with the Cardinal Bernis. Oh, say nothing about the cardinal, cried the prince. I do not trust him. He is the abetter of the prodigal De Gatry, and, if I am not mistaken, the lover of his daughter. The cardinal must not be brought into the affair. But The prince was silent, re- flected a moment, rubbed his forehead, was at once decided, and said: Lady, I must leave you. We have not a moment to lose. I am jealous of every one who could deprive me of an opportunity of gain- ing the least favor in your eyes. Farewell, then, lovely Pauline. I shall not rest till your benevolent wish is accomplished. He kissed the hand of the lady and departed. 4. MADAME DE POMPADOUR. HE sprang into his carriage, and bent his course toward the Tuille- vies, where immediately he directed his steps to the apartments of Madame de Pompadour. Everybody knows how important an influence Madame de Pom- padour exerted at the court of his Most Christian Majesty, Kink Louis XV. She was the all-powerful ruler of his heart, of his will, and of his kingdom. It is true that the bloom of her youth had fadedshe was perhaps five-and-thirty years oldbut her person had lost little of its charms on that account, while the rare accomplishments of her mind had only gained a new brilliancy. The king was still a pri- soner in her gentle fetters. Neither the wishes of the whole royal family, nor the counsels of the prime minister, the Cardinal Bernis, could effect anything against her. This was well known at court, in all Paris, and throughout the whole kingdom. It is not, indeed, very gratifying fora nation not destitute of self-respect to be governed by such a royal substitute. But it must not be forgotten that at this time the French only composed verses, trilled love songs, and considered everything as true, just, and beautiful as soon as it was so pronounced by the king. Thus knelt France in enraptured worship, with one knee before the king, and the other before the mistress of his Most Christian M~jjesty. A small party only, who were permitted to claim the right of a shadow of jealousyas, for instance, the queen, the ancient nobility of the court, or such a prime minister as the Cardinal 1840.] Who Governs, then? 95 Bernisrallied a kind of opposition against her, yet not without the greatest caution. The prudent favorite of the king was perfectly conscious of all this, but she had little fear of their opposition. The most influential men of the court stood on her side, or lay at her feet. Voltaire himself boasted that she had looked graciously upon him; but besides the king she looked more tenderly on none than on the Prince de Soubise. The prince, though a man of forty years, was indeed formed to please, for he was witty, spirited, and seductive. In spite of all her prudence and experience, the favorite of the king could not help pre- ferring to look upon him and listen to him above all others, and to believe him the most readily when he protested that he loved her for herself alone, and for no other motive. The prince was one of those ~vell trained spirits, who can be all things to all men. Thus was he with the favorite of the king a fascinated lover, who only by the most powerful effort withheld the expression of a passion which he did not feel. Madame de Pompadour often observed, and not with- out emotion, his silent struggle between deference and love, and in spite of herself she felt her heart attracted toward him though it ought to belong to the king alone. She felt for the prince what she ought not to feel, and because she did not wish it her heart inclined but the more tenderly toward him. Artful, however, as the lady was, she guarded well her secret, that the world might not suspect her of what she was herself ashamed of, as of something ridiculous. And indeed none of the courtiers would have imagined such a thing even in his dreams. Yet the prince himself understood perfectly what he ob- servedplayed well his assumed partand laughed the while in his sleeve. What have you forgotten, butterfly ? she inquired as he entered, for he had left her scarcely an hour before. Ah, dear Marchioness, with you I have always the misfortune to forget myself. How could I otherwise ? answered Soubise, as he pressed her beautiful hand to his lips. As I live, I have indeed forgotten myself! To the business, my gracious lord; for the sphere of yourself is so extended, that I do not always know whether you have in mind France or the whole of Europe, when you are speaking of yourself. You seem to wish to be a little piquante, lovely Marchioness, and yet instead of irony you speak but the simplest truth. In very ear- nest, I was about to speak of myself, that is, of Francealias, your- self. Oh, what a poetic fiction ! cried Madame de Pompadour. You certainly do possess some talent for a sonnet, Prince. And who would not who feels the happiness of breathing in your presence ! But your were about to speak of yourself. 96 Who Governs, then? [July, Well, gracious lady, of my self. But my self resolves itself into yours. What is against you is against me. And I-.--- Prince, I cannot understand you to-day. Speak proseI hate the frosty fire of your composers of odes. Well, then, plain, dry prose. Do you know in what company they first brought forward and sang that miserable lampoon in which a certain unimagined degree of low scurrility was put in requisition for lack of wit ? You mean that ridiculous song against me? Perhaps in that of our poetic cardinalhave I hit it ? In that of one of his favorites, the infamous De Gatry. The wretch is soon to be deserted by all his former associates, for he is about to become the sacrifice of his own infamyto go to the galleys. How! What do you mean ? asked the marchioness, in amaze- ment. In the treasury of the Navy, of which he has the administration, there have been discovered immense deficitsmore than a million~ they say. And this was what I had forgotten to tell you an hour ago~ I was right, therefore, when I said it affected me, because it affects France and you.~~ Have you been correctly informed, Prince ? The prince then related to her all that he knew of the case; embellishing it in a manner to suit his own purposes, and at last also recounted the affair of the unfortunate old book-keeper, Monsieur Larmes. He dwelt so forcibly upon the villany of M. de Gatry, and so touchingly upon the agony and despair of the poor and defenceless old man, that the sympathizing marchioness was dissolved in tears of the deepest emotion. No, she cried, that must not be! The honest and innocent man shall never become the victim of such a monster! We must bring the truth to light. Will you be responsible that it is all as you relate it to me ? I answer for every word I have spoken. Then allow me to excuse myself. I must go to the King. I thank you, my dear Prince, for having shown me the opportunity for a noble action. The soil of France must not be polluted with such a piece of villany as M. de Gatry is brooding. The King is too gene- rous in his confidence. And his good angel does not forsake him. Allow me to kiss that angels hand, to impart to myself a little of its hallowing influence. The prince withdrew, and the marchioness proceeded to the king~ [TO BE cONTINUED.]

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The United States Democratic review. / Volume 8, Issue 32 United States magazine, and Democratic review Democratic review United States review J.& H.G. Langley, etc. New York, etc. August 1840 0008 032
The Independent Treasury Reform 99-109

TIlE UNITED STATES MAGAZINE AND DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. VOL. VIII. AUGUST, 1840. No. XXXII. THE INDEPENDENT TREASURY REFORM. WELL, the great measure of the Independent Treasury is now the law of the landnever, we feel firmly assured, to be repealed. This event will stamp the year eighteen hundred and forty as one of the leading epochs of our history, as it will cast upon the Administration to which is peculiarly to be ascribed its authorship, a historical lustre which will never cease to mark it in bright relief upon the annals of the Republic. It has been already generally remarked upon by the Democratic press, that the coincidence of time was a happy one which enabled the President to affix his signature to it on the national anniversary whose sanctity is derived from that first imperishable Declaration of Indepen. dence, of which the present is well entitled to be regarded as a worthy sequel and consummation. It is indeed no extravagant figure of fancy which has suggested the designation frequently applied to this great measure, as a second Declaration of lndependence,nor is itin any spirit of political fanaticism, or partisan pride, that we thus refer to it. It is not as a mere victory of our own side of a long and fierce struggle of opinion, and discomfiture of the formidable antagonist powers with which the struggle has been wagedthis is not the light in which we would now regard this important eventthis is not the feeling Which prompts us to make it the subject of these remarks. The establish~ ment of the Independent Treasury is far more than a triumph of an Administrationit is a triumph of a great truth. It is far more than an occasion of exultation to a partythe day is not distant when it will be recognized without a dissentient voice as a just subject for rejoicing to the whole people. Far be it then from us to look upon it now in any point of view less expansive than the national character of the epoch itself. It is not in a spirit of partisanship, but of patriotism, that a great event of this nature is to be regarded. Alexander Hamilton was a great and good man, as he was one of the most pure and zealous of patriots; but so fatal has been the infiu. 100 The Independent Treasury Reform. [August, ence of the poison which his hand unconsciously infused into our political system, at its very source, that at the same time that his country raises the statue which she cannot refuse to his noble memory, ~vell might she exclaim with grief and bitterness, would that he had never been born! A storm of for& gn invasion may devastate a nations fields and homes but when it has passed away, the untiring bounty of Nkture will clothe the former again in their wonted beauty and abundance; and the recuperative energies which temporary disaster but stimulates, will speedily reconstruct the latter, and again surround their hearths with all the happy affections which brightened and blessed them before. A tyrant may indulge an all but omnipotent malignity in sweeping away half a generation with sword, fire, and faminebut when the term of years allotted to his guilty career, by a higher omnipotence than his own, shall have been attained, the ranks of population that he has thinned are speedily refilled, and the sufferings of the fathers are soon forgotten in the revived prosperity and happiness of the children. But not so with a bad principle once deeply planted at the root of a nations system of government, though it may be by the hand of an honest while deluded patriotism. It cannot in candor be denied, that the results of our great experi- ment of democratic self-government have fallen very far short of its early expectation and promisefar short, too, of what we devoutly believe it capable of effecting. Though it has been for upward of half a century in operation, and more than two generations of men have grown up under the full influence of its action, who can pretend that it has done any thing like what we all insist that it is capable of doingwho can say that it has yet so completely and triumphantly demonstrated itself as to command, as it ought to command, the full approbation and conviction of all the rest of mankind ~i How much is there not that meets the eye in every direction, which affords to the foreigner arriving on our shores too plausible a ground for disparaging comparison, with the practical effects of other institutions upon national character and happiness. Of course we shall not be understood as casting any doubt upon the vast superiority which on the whole, with whatever drawback and disadvantage may exist, the American citizen is entitled to claim, both for the institutions of his country over those of less favored lands, and for their general effects. We do mean, however, that their success has been but very imperfectthat the drawbacks to their beneficial operation of which we must confess the existence have been far from slightand that if democracy were never destined to work out better fruits than it has yet produced among us, we should indeed scarcely deem it worth the stern and unceasing struggle, to which the votary who would be its champion must devote himself. The two prominent evils to which we would here allude, are, that 1840.1 The Independent Treo& sury Reform. 101 absorbing passion for the acquisition of wealth, which has come to be regarded as our leading national characteristic, and that excess of party spirit which we see indulged with so much violence and bitterness. Now,without going so far as to trace the origin of both of these evils solely to the vicious system of paper-money credit which, in its close alliance with the political power, has exercised an omnipotent sway over the country, and deeply influenced the developement of our national destiny and character, yet is it very certain that they have not only received from this fatal source a great aggravation in their degree, but that they owe to it much of the pernicious character and spirit which they have exhibited. The common comparison of the currency of a country to the circu- lating life-blood of the human frame is no mere hyperbolical figure of speech. A close analogy may be traced between the two in several points of view, and in none is it more true than in the fatal influence of a diseased state of the circulation upon the general health of the system. A bad currency is a worse evil than a had government, as a perma- nently bad state of the blood than any mere external or local injury. Far better a bad government in other respects with a good currency, than a good government with a bad currency. And as the influence of a diseased circulation extends itself throughout every part of the physical system, through a ramification of channels infinite in number and minuteness, so does a vitiated currency diffuse its baneful effects throughout the whole infinite complexity of societyacting distinctly, and in a vast variety of modes of evil, moral and physical, upon every individual unit of its millions. The comparison is after all but a feeble one, and can afford but a slight and dim glimpse of the important truth which it is designed to illustratenamely, of the intimate connexion between the currency, and the character and happiness, as well as the wealth, of.nations. The diseased blood can but impair or destroy the physical life; the diseased currency saps with its subtle poison not less fatally the moral health than the material prosperity of a people. Its reform is not more a problem of Political Economy, than a question of Moralsand a question, according to our apprehension of it, second in magnitude and interest to no other. By universal assent it is an established truth, that no practice is more vitally poisonous to the character of its wretched victim, than that of gambling. Base in its stimulating motivewhich is pure arid simple avariceit is most fatally debasing in its effects. Though a depraved habit of opinion among a large portion of society recognizes it as not dishonorable, it is yet essentially dishonest in its nature. No man of truly noble spirit, of pure and healthy moral sense, ever yet for the first time received the gains of the gambling board without a blush, without an unconscious protest of his better nature against the act. The true principle of right, as that of law, is, that consideration, a 102 The Independent Treasury Reform. [August, fair equivalent, is essential to the honesty and validity of contract, to the equity of the reception or payment of money A~in the case of duelling the guilt of murder derives no mitigation from the stupidity of an equal self-exposure, so in that of gambling the dishonesty of receiv- ing from another money not fairly earned, by an equivalent of service rendered, is in no respect atoned by the folly of having voluntarily placed ones self in a position in which an equal chance might, on the contrary, have imposed the necessity of a corresponding gratuitous payment to the opposite party. It is the custom of all gambling societies to affect a peculiar degree of delicate and sensitive honor in all that relates to this subject; and for no offence will the chivalrous murder of the duel be more remorselessly resorted to, than for the slightest imputation tending to cast a shade of doubt upon its purity. The very custom, however, proves only the conscious moral rottenness of the system, which cannot bear the most distant approach of the touch of the truth. No man can become an habitual gambler without becoming thoroughly demoralized at heart, and ripe for the commission of any act of dishonesty from which he is not withheld by the only restraint that re- mains to him, the fear of detection and punishment. Sordid and selfish, the bosom of the confirmed gamester becomes the fit home of all that is bad and base, nor can any good principle, any noble sentiment, or any pure affection, long continue to linger in so debased an abode. All this is truthnay, it is truism. And yet we daily hear the re- mark made, of the gambling character which has gradually infused itself into the whole system of commerce and business of the country, without a reflection upon its obvious consequenceupon the fearful national demoralization which must result from that character, in degree exactly proportionate to the cause. A certain degree of hazard is of course inseparable from all corn- merce. Apart from the dangers of the elements and unavoidable ac- cident, it is scarcely possible for any human sagacity to foresee all the contingencies which may affect the success of a complicated commer- cial operation, growing out of the close mutual dependence of a mer- cantile community, as well as out of the uncertainty of markets, the mutations of public taste and fashion, and the rivalry of competitors. But this degree of hazard is not greater, when commerce is conducted on sound principles, than is beneficial in affording a healthful stimulus to intelligence, enterprise and cautionnor greater than is necessarily incident to all human affairs. The sagacious merchant of the good olden timecontent with moderate, sure, and progressive profits, well acquainted with his particular line of business, and less ambitious of great wealth than jealous of the unquestioned purity of his commercial integrity-~--pursued a career as honorable as it was useful, and might on the whole calculate with all but absolute certainty on the reward which would accumulate upon his hands, long before closing an easy and 1840.] The Iitdependemt Treasury Reform. 103 comfortable life. Such was the rule,~the reverse, if it occasionally was to be seen, was but the exception. But we have changed all that. The desk has now become a gam- bling board, the ledger a betting book. A new and powerful element of hazard has been added to all commerceand not to commerce alone, but to all business, to every department of industrythat of an artifi- cially fluctuation of the currency. This casts every thing afloat, on the waves of chance, so far as regards any calculations which individuals can make. The whole community is passing constantly to and fro between the opposite extremes of the fluctuations of the currency. In its rapidly expansive and contractile elasticity, it never rests for twelve months in succession at any point of uniformity. Consisting as it does entirely of paper money founded on a specie basis of a fourth or a fifth of its own dimensions, the slight fluctuations which necessarily arise from alternations of excess or deficiency in foreign trading, multiply themselves four or five fold in their action upon our currency. A foreign mercantile debt of ten millions, the influence of which upon a sound specie currency would be imperceptible, inflicts upon ours a spasmodic contraction of forty or fifty millions. The reverse is equally true in case of the reception of ten millions from abroad in the specie adjustment of the balance of trade. In the one case a severe pressure upon their debtors is dictated to the banks by the law of self- preservation; in the other the mutual temptation to lend and to borrow is irresistible to both parties; and the facility of obtaining money from them at the same time rapidly expands the currency, and lends to the already too impetuous enterprise of our people an intoxicating stimulus of the worst character. Money is thus alternately easy and hard to be pro. curedborrowers alternately tempted and oppressedand the general scale of prices, under the relative abundance and scarcity of the cir- culating medium, alternately elevated and depressed, in each direction far beyond the natural slight oscillations of a healthy state. No man can anticipate for a year in advance the most important elements on which all commercial calculations must be based. There is no ex- aggeration, therefore, in saying that the commercial profession is with us little else than one of pure gambling; and that every other depart- inent of business is made to partake more or less of the same character. The insecurity of this state of things is moreover incalculably in- creased by the universal abuse of the practice of credit. It has been shrewdly said, that the art of writing has been a great curse to this country, for that the moment a man learns to scrawl his name, the first use to which he invariably puts the dangerous accomplishment is to sign it to a promissory note There prevails a most pernicious laxity of principle among us, in reference to the assumption of obligations the redemption of which is a matter of future contingency. How far this is promotecf by the universal example daily presented to every mans eye, by every 104 The Independent Treasury Reform. [August, bank note on whose face he reads a promise to pay which it is perfectly understood is never expected nor intended to be keptthe reader may judge for himself. Of the demoralization which has begun to make frightful inroads upon a considerable portion of our population, and which could not but be the result of such a character pervading the whole commer- cial system of the country, we have of late years witnessed many signal illustrationsbut none more striking than the manner in which a national insolvent law was lately urged upon Congress. In the dis- cussions of the subject in that body and through the press, it was almost amusing to mark ~the contrast between the contempt with which the just rights of creditors were treated by the Credit System school, and the profound respect and enthusiastic regard which were extended to the class whose modest request was the complete abrogation of all the unfortunate contracts that had been made within a few years past. The most indignant appeals were addressed to Congress and the people, against the inhuman tyranny of those who ventured to suggest, that the assent of at least one-half of the insolvents creditors should be requi- site for his discharge. As for the existence of any moral obligation on the part of the insolvent to devote himselffor years, if necessary to the object of obtaining a just and honorable release by the simple course of paying his debts, such an idea appeared never to enter the imagination of those who declaimed with so much eloquent ardor, in be- half of that most meritorious class of citizens, who were represented as only noble martyrs to their patriotic and valual~le enterprise, and as best entitled to dictate the terms of their release from its unsuccessful consequences. An immediate and total releasewithout a thought of a future revival of liability in case of the acquisition of propertyon the simple oath of the party interestedunder circumstances extreme- ly unfavorable to distant creditors for the vindication of their rights nothing short of this would satisfy the clamorous demand that was urged upon Congress. And the most violent vituperation was shower- ed upon any who dared to argue that the delicacy of the subject claimed a longer time for the formation of a ~vise and matured opinion that the question had its two sides, and that the creditor had his just rights, which were entitled to some slight consideration, as well as the unfortunate distresses of the debtor. The Democratic party in Congress did itself great honor by the firm stand which it maintained on this question. And the contrast presented by the votes of the two parties afforded a signal instance of the truth we have always insisted upon that we are in truth the best friends of legitimate credit, desiring only to purify it by reforming its vicious abuses and excesses; that the only destructive agrarianism which exists in this country is on the part of the Credit System school; and that at the bottom of all its pretensions, as the peculiar friend of credit and commerce, lies a rotten laxity of 1840.] The Independe~& t Treasury Reform. mora1s in relation to the true principles of both, and to the honest rights of property and industry, which is in its ultimate effects the worst foe to all sound national prosperity. It would be easy to multiply other instances of this demoralization of which we speak, and which refers itself directly to our vicious sys. tern of currency as its original source,such as the indifference with which bankruptcy has come to be regardedthe frequent instances to be observed, in all our cities, of men upon the honesty of whose former insol- vency a dark cloud of suspicion rests, or who, after a fractional compo- sition with creditors, have accumulated wealth of which no portion is ever thought of being applied to the redemption of the old balances, and who yet are suffered to maintain a position unimpaired in the front ranks of societythe attempts made by some States, and by various corporate bodies, to discharge the interest of their debts in deprecia- ted paper; attempts which have elicited rebukes from the foreign credit- ors which have caused our cheeks to tingle with a blush for the dis- graced honor of our countrythe astonishing leniency which we have witnessed in all directions toward the fraudulent failure to meet engagements, provided it be only on a scale sufficiently grand, and that the public be its victims, and especially when its authors are invested with the sanctity of a corporate organization. But the subject is no pleasing one, and we abstain from pursuing it farther. Opinions may differ as to the extent to which the picture here pre. sented may be true. We are far from regarding it as universally, or even generally so; but it is undeniable, not only that it is true to an extent that must shame every right-minded lover of our country and institutions, but that the progress of this canker at the heart of our national character and true prosperity has of late years been most alarmingly accelerated. In addition to the excessive eagerness in the pursuit of rapid gain, and the demoralized tone of public sentiment accompanying it, of which we have spoken, we will allude to another very great evil to a considerable extent assignable to the same originthe inordinate pas- sion of partisanship which prevails among us. We see this detestable spirit arraying the two halves of the nation in an antagonist relation to each other scarce less em~ttered and violent than the hostility between armies of mortals foes. It stimulates our worst passions, perverts our judgment, enslaves our independence of character, vitiates our moral sense, goes far to deaden every sentiment of enlarged patriotism or philanthrophy, induces a disgraceful recklessness of means in the pro. secution of political controversy, and even penetrates to a serious extent, with its poisonous influence, beyond the sacred threshold of the social and domestic relations of life. For own part we confess that we are heartily tired and sick of this state of things, and regard this as one of the very worst faults of the bad principles which are combined with G2 106 The Indepexdent Treasi& ry Reform. [August, the good in the working of our general political system. It is not true that this is inseparable from free institutions at least, in the extreme in which we witness it among ourselves. It is from the abuses, not from the healthy uses, of republican legislation, that it proceeds. Other influences may be combined with the one we refer to, but the chief root of this evil is clearly the connexion that has, heretofore existed between our political government, and the great monetary system of which Hamilton in fatal hour laid the foundations. The object of this long coiitest we have been, and are still, engaged in, has been, on the one side to sever this pernicious union, and on the other to force its con. tinuance. Incalculable interests and enormous moneyed powers have thus been involved in it, and hundreds of thousands have been taught to feel that an issue lay between them, individually, and a hostile assailant whose attack was directly upon their purses. Vast numbers therefore of the Whig partyhonestly duped by the charge urged against the Administration of a destructive and agrarian policy, and, of hostility to the uses as well as to the abuses of Credithave become accustomed to indulge toward their political opponents a habit of feel. ing and language of the most bitter personal animosity. Stimulated by the inflammatory eloquence of ambitious politicians, and the daily renewed tirades of a shamefully licentious party press, this feeling it is ~vhich has chiefly given its present violent tone to the party controver- sy. The Divorce of Bank and State, so far as regards the affairs of the Federal Government, which will be operated by the Independent Treasury, will go far toward the destruction of the principal source in which this .hrice.accursed evil takes its rise. It may prove, indeed, that we exaggerate the extent of the beneficial action to proceed from the great reform of which we speak. It is at least certain that w~ correctly describe its direction. Though it may not perhaps be adequate to the remedy of the disease, which may be too deeply seated, and may depend upon other coi$perating causes, yet its ten- dency must be at least to moderate it in no inconsiderable degree. Upon the working of the whole machinery of our Federal Government its in- fluence cannot fail to be most salutary. It will hereafter have no other than the simple ordinary political power to wield. It will never again find the great moneyed institutions of the country, whether national or local, mingling in the array of the party conte~sts in which it may be engagednow in alliance with it, and now in mortal hos. tiity. The latter will thus be relieved from a most pernicious influ- ence on the stability and soundness of their own action, in their proper vocation and duty. And there will be no great interests pressing upon the springs of legislation to favor the accumulation of a large national revenue. On the contrary, all interests must combine in the opposite directionthe most powerful with the strongest inducement; namely, the banks, upon whose business any large accumulation of stagnant 1840.1 The Independent Treasury Reform. 107 specie in the vaults of the Treasury would prove a sensible clog. The Federal Government must thus find itself chained down to a compul- sory path of the strictest economy, and will be kept perforce in a pure and healthy state, whatever may be the dispositions of parties in power. The motives which now stimulate the passion of partisanship to its violent excesses, will be greatly reduced, both in number, in force, and in virulence of character and we trust that we are never again destined to pass through such another period of unresting tumult, struggle, and violence of bad and bitter passionat least, so far as re- gards the politics of the Federal Governmentas the long contest of the past ten years, of which we devoutly trust that we have now at last reached the closing scene. Upon the stability of the currency also its influence must prove highly beneficial. The necessity of some regulator upon its perpetual tendency to overaction, no one disputes. The main issue between our two parties is simply as to the mode of effecting this objectwhether by a National Bank, or by the Independent Treasury. For though the question of re-chartering a national bank is kept for the present by the Whig party in the background, no candid man can dispute that it still remains the leading idea of their whole theory of financial policy. The exploded middle alternative, of a revival of the deposite bank system, has no advocates entitled to any consideration. Now what is the feature in our present banking system for which all parties concede the necessity of some efficient regulator V Simply its elasticityits irrepressible tendency to rapid expansion in seasons of prosperity and confidence, and to corresponding contraction, as the necessary conse- quence, like the shadow to the light, of the former. The only mode of regulation to be pursued by a great central institution must consist in returning upon such banks as may be observed to be expanding un- wisely, so much of their paper as to force them back to the assumed level of prudence. Without referring to the evidencc of past experience, both of our own country and of England, which affords the strongest illustration of this argument that could be desired, it cannot but be manifest to the slightest candid reflection, that such a mode of regu- lation must be a very uncertain, arbitrary, and dangerous one. Quis custodiet ipsum custodem? Who shall watch the watchman i Or- ganized on the same principles as the rest, how can the National Bank be presumed free itself from that very tendency for which the restraint is needed ~ And even assuming its direction to be perfectly pure and disinterested, so as never designedly to abuse so enormous a power over the prices of all property and labor.assuming it to be safe and wise, politically and commercially, to entrust such a power to a few individual handsby what rule can they measure the point of healthy soundness at which the currency should be kept, at any given time, and under any given combination of circumstances I What guarantee have 108 The Independent Treasury Reform. (August, we that a perfect wisdom will regulate its own expansions and contrac- tionsthe effects of which upon the currency are multiplied in an indefinite degree by the very uniformity with which its vast power com- pels all the rest to follow in the gigantic wake of its example? So far as it will go, the operation of the Independent Treasury must prove precisely the kind of regulation required. rrhe principal fallacy of our paper currency has been its professed convertibility. Five dollars in paper have represented themselves as convertible into specie on immediate presentation, when but one dollar has in truth been held in reserve in the vaults of the bank to discharge that function for them all. But in the season of general prosperity and confidence precisely when the gradual restraint is requiredno one dreams of enforcing this convertibility. The unreflecting confidence of the public becomes the only measure of the extent to which the inflation may be carried, and convertibility comes into play as a reality, only when the mischief has reached a point of excess to which it then applies a severe and sudden check, attended with a rapid reaction, of which we have too often experienced the distressing and fatal effects to leave it necessary for us to dwell farther on them. The misfortune has been that we have had no actual circulation of specie in the currency, with the exception of a trifling amount of mere fractional change. There has been no large dealer, omnipresent throughout all parts of the Union, who, by conducting all his transactions of collection and disbursement in actual specie, has kept a certain quantity always afloat in the round of circulationfamiliarizing the people to its use, and holding it up constantly before their eyes, and before the institutions that supply their paper currency, as the one fixed standard of value from which the latter can never allow itself to deviate without a depreciation immediately detected, and immediately corrected. This is the function which the Independent Treasury will perform as a regulator of the currency. What true friend of legitimate banking can object to it? It is plain that no redundancy of revenue could arise under such a system, to cause an undue accumulation of specie in the vaults of the public Treasury; and that a sum no larger than from five to seven millions of dollarsa small fraction of the specie added to the supply of the country by the Democratic policy of which this measure is the con- summation~would be absorbed by the fiscal action of the Govern- ment. For our own part we only regret the unnecessary graduation which has been applied to the introduction of this great reformso as to make it three years before it can come fully into play. The measure may be, and doubtless is, susceptible of some improvements which experi- ence will indicate, But we are profoundly assured that it will never be repealed; nor do we not believe that even in the case of the unim- aginable possibility of the success of the Whigs in the present struggle, they either could or would dare to repeal it. The Streamlet. 109 THE STREAMLET. BY THE AUTHOR OF THE YEMAS5EE,~ & C. I. ONCE more in the old places !and I glow Again with boyhood. Once again renewd, My wandering feet have found the rivulets flow, My eyes pursue old vistas in the wood; My heart partakes their consciousness,I hear Long lost, but well-known sounds, salute mine ear. II. The voices of the forest and the stream, And murmuring flights of wind, that through the grove Come fitfully, like fancies in a dream, And speak of wild and most unearthly love Such love, as hope prefigures to the boy, Crowning each hillock with a sunbright joy. III. There gleams the opening path, and there, below, Glimmers the streamlet sparkling through green leaves; I catch the distant pattering of its flow, In sudden murmurs, ere mine eye perceives, Complaining, as it takes its tiny leaps, To the scooped basin where it sings and sleeps. Iv. It was my father taught me, when a boy, The winding way that wins it; and I grew To love the path with an exceeding joy, That heeded not the moments, as they flew, So sweetly were they then beguiledgay gleams All green and gold, the garments of youths dreams. V. And, sitting by its marge, my father said, That streamlet had a language for his ear, Though vainly did I bend my boyish head, With him, but nothing could I ever hear; Yet, ~s we did return, he still would say, He was a better man, so taught, that day. 1840.]

The Author of 'The Yemassee', W. G. S. The Author of 'The Yemassee', W. G. S. The Streamlet 109-113

The Streamlet. 109 THE STREAMLET. BY THE AUTHOR OF THE YEMAS5EE,~ & C. I. ONCE more in the old places !and I glow Again with boyhood. Once again renewd, My wandering feet have found the rivulets flow, My eyes pursue old vistas in the wood; My heart partakes their consciousness,I hear Long lost, but well-known sounds, salute mine ear. II. The voices of the forest and the stream, And murmuring flights of wind, that through the grove Come fitfully, like fancies in a dream, And speak of wild and most unearthly love Such love, as hope prefigures to the boy, Crowning each hillock with a sunbright joy. III. There gleams the opening path, and there, below, Glimmers the streamlet sparkling through green leaves; I catch the distant pattering of its flow, In sudden murmurs, ere mine eye perceives, Complaining, as it takes its tiny leaps, To the scooped basin where it sings and sleeps. Iv. It was my father taught me, when a boy, The winding way that wins it; and I grew To love the path with an exceeding joy, That heeded not the moments, as they flew, So sweetly were they then beguiledgay gleams All green and gold, the garments of youths dreams. V. And, sitting by its marge, my father said, That streamlet had a language for his ear, Though vainly did I bend my boyish head, With him, but nothing could I ever hear; Yet, ~s we did return, he still would say, He was a better man, so taught, that day. 1840.] 110 The Strecrmlet. [August, VI. Yet, surely was there nothing but the flow Of idle waters, ever more the same A sweet, sad pattering, as they went below I never heard them syllable a name, Though much I strove, for in my fathers look I read the serious truth of all he spoke. VII. An hundred streams like thisthe country knows, From Santee to Savannahbrooks that glide Through willow tasselswhere the laurel blows In triumph, and the poplar springs in pride; A slender thread of silvery white, it went, Winding and prattling in its slow descent. VIII. Where, then, the mystery of its voice, and whence? Like other forests those which round it grew; In what the source of that intelligence, Denied to me, which yet my father knew? Change had not touched its waters,twas that morn As small as in the hour when he was born. Ix. Lie too, like me, had from its yellow bed Pluckd the gray pebhle, and beneath its wave Had plungd, in summer noon, his aching head, Glad of the cool delight that still it gave ; Then he grew up to manbood,then became Aged,yet was this little stream the same. x. His grave is in the forest, and he sleeps Far from the groves he lovedhis voice no more Is in mine ear; yet through my memory creeps Its echo, and the wild and solemn lore He taught me, when we walkd beside that brook, Comes back, as now within its waves I look. XI. The spells of memory to my side command The shadow~d thoughtnot desolate nor lone ; Faint are the images that near me stand, Yet are they images of things well known: Years gather to ~ moment, and inform Yhe trembling l~som which they fail to warm. 1840.J The Streamlet. 111 XII. No longer am I desolate, beside These green and sacred borders: in my ear, As down I bend, where the fast waters glide, Murmurs, from ~weetest fancies, do I hear; Hope takes the swallows accents, and they bring So glad the gathering years, a rich and green-eyed spring. - XIII. And my old sire, he errd not sure! I feel As if I were a listener to the spell Of one whose voice is power! My senses reel I It is his language,I should know it well,. He speaks through these sweet waters which he loved In boyhood, and where still our footsteps roved. XIV. I tremble with a joymy heart is still, As, s~velling up, the accents break the air; My spirit, troubled, shrinks, even as the nIl When leaves disturb the sleeping waters there My feet are fastened with a subtle charm, Soothing but startlingfull of s~veet alarm. XV. The accents gather to familiar sounds, And wake ane~v a lost and well-loved tone, I bear the sacred words, ~vhile silence rounds The enchanted circle, and my breathis gone: They rise melodious, sad, hut softly clear, My heart receives the music, not mine ear. XVI. I have been when thy father dreamed of thee, I shall be, when thou dreamest of thy child; Thy children shall be listeners to me, Whose tones so oft thy fathers feet beguiled; I am thy guardian genius,from the first My waters still have slaked thy spirits thirst. XVII. When thou shall be forgotten, I shall be, And to the race that shall succeed thee on, I will repeat my counsel, as to thee, And like thy footsteps, now, shall theirs be won, From the thick gatheringfrom the crowded street With me, within the solitude, to meet. 112 The Stream let. [August, XVIII. And I shall soothe their spirits, as I now Soothe that of. him, their sire; my streams shall be A gracious freshness for each burning brow, While my soft voice shall whisper, sweetly free, Tempering to calm, the bosom vexd and bowd By the unfeeling clamors of the crowd. XIX Go forth, fair boy, and happy be thy years, Forget not soon the lessons, long our theme, Nor, when the growing Time shall teach thee tears Desert these shady bowersthis sacred stream; Twill be my care, when man has taught thee gloom, To bring thy worn heart back to all its bloom. XX. Look on these waters when thy mood is sad, Fly to these groves, when close pursued by power These shall restore thee all that made thee glad, And bring oblivion of the present hour; Mine is the stream that must forever roll, A memory not of earth, but of its soul. XXI. I keep affections pureI save the heart From Earths pollutions ;treasured in my wave Is healing, and the powr to make depart Bad passions, those worse tyrants; and to save The victim from himself, and still restore The angel whiteness of the soul once more. XXII. Oh, when the world has wrongd thee, seek me then, Though, hapless, from thy better self estranged; Fly to these waters, from the stripes of men, And gazing in them shall thy heart be changed; Though years have risen between, and stripe and scorn, Yet shall thy face, once more, be that thou wearst this morn. W.G.S. 1840.1 113 AMERICAN ARISTOCRACY.* CAPTAIN Marryatts publication on the political institutions of the United States~contains much information of importance to our citizens.~ Few of his details possess novelty or interest to those a& customed to read the newspapers opposed to the late and present administrations of the General Government. But the principles which he promulgates, connected with the sources from which they have been evidently de- rived, throw so much light upon the party discussions which have been carried on with unprecedented zeal during the last ten years, that we feel it to be our duty to bring them to public notice. The import- ance of the book consists in its furnishing a clue to the real sentiments and designs of an active party of politicians among ourselves. Its nominal author is entitled to be held guiltless of the slightest compre- hension of the bearing of any political question whatever. His pro- fessional education and previous pursuits equally unfitted him for any such investigations. He was, of course, compelled in the concoction of his book to place reliance upon the representations of those persons by whom he was hospitably entertained, xvithout evincing the slightest misgiving as to their fairness and accuracy. Our readers were doubtless apprized at the time, by the singular publications in the newspapers under his sign manual, that our country was favored ~vith the presence of this individual during the years 1837 and 1838. He arrived here in the midst of a disastrous revulsion, which was made the instrument of great political excitement. He was received with open arms by that portion of our community who are peculiarly vigilant in hunting up and patronizing foreign adventurers who do not intend to become citizens. The honest emigrant who has fled from the oppressions of the old world, under the intention of exer- cising his industry and talents with the enjoyment of freedom here, invariably finds this class of our society to manifest the most unrelenting hostility to his permanent interests. But strolling players, writers of novels, and other works of fancy, and chevaliers dindustrie of all kinds, who make a temporary inroad upon this country in the way of business, are always greeted with the enthusiasm of confidence. Rarely giving themselves an opportunity of learning any thing of the character of our valuable citizens who are employed in their pursuits in the towns, villages and farms through- out the land, such visitors from Europe necessarily imbibe their notions * Second series of a Diary in America, with Remarks on its Institutions, by Captain Marryatt, G.~ B., Author of Peter Simple, Jacob Faithful, Frank Mildmay, & c. Philadelphia, T. K. & P. G. rollins, 1840. voL. viii. NO. XXXII.A1IGm, 1840. II

American Aristocracy 113-135

1840.1 113 AMERICAN ARISTOCRACY.* CAPTAIN Marryatts publication on the political institutions of the United States~contains much information of importance to our citizens.~ Few of his details possess novelty or interest to those a& customed to read the newspapers opposed to the late and present administrations of the General Government. But the principles which he promulgates, connected with the sources from which they have been evidently de- rived, throw so much light upon the party discussions which have been carried on with unprecedented zeal during the last ten years, that we feel it to be our duty to bring them to public notice. The import- ance of the book consists in its furnishing a clue to the real sentiments and designs of an active party of politicians among ourselves. Its nominal author is entitled to be held guiltless of the slightest compre- hension of the bearing of any political question whatever. His pro- fessional education and previous pursuits equally unfitted him for any such investigations. He was, of course, compelled in the concoction of his book to place reliance upon the representations of those persons by whom he was hospitably entertained, xvithout evincing the slightest misgiving as to their fairness and accuracy. Our readers were doubtless apprized at the time, by the singular publications in the newspapers under his sign manual, that our country was favored ~vith the presence of this individual during the years 1837 and 1838. He arrived here in the midst of a disastrous revulsion, which was made the instrument of great political excitement. He was received with open arms by that portion of our community who are peculiarly vigilant in hunting up and patronizing foreign adventurers who do not intend to become citizens. The honest emigrant who has fled from the oppressions of the old world, under the intention of exer- cising his industry and talents with the enjoyment of freedom here, invariably finds this class of our society to manifest the most unrelenting hostility to his permanent interests. But strolling players, writers of novels, and other works of fancy, and chevaliers dindustrie of all kinds, who make a temporary inroad upon this country in the way of business, are always greeted with the enthusiasm of confidence. Rarely giving themselves an opportunity of learning any thing of the character of our valuable citizens who are employed in their pursuits in the towns, villages and farms through- out the land, such visitors from Europe necessarily imbibe their notions * Second series of a Diary in America, with Remarks on its Institutions, by Captain Marryatt, G.~ B., Author of Peter Simple, Jacob Faithful, Frank Mildmay, & c. Philadelphia, T. K. & P. G. rollins, 1840. voL. viii. NO. XXXII.A1IGm, 1840. II 114 American Aristocracy. [August, of the manners, morals, and politics of the country from those with whom they associate. Can any rational man who is familiar with the society of our large cities doubt as to the originals from which the pictures, which foreign travellers have generally given of us, have been drawn? That strange combination of mean servility and pomp- ous impertinence, equally removed from true affability and self-respect that short sighted cunning in the transaction of business, which has given rise to a new appellation in Europe, for any species of fraud and swindling which enables the perpetrators to escape the penalties of the law le vol AmericcT& ir& that total disregard to the public welfare in the pursuit of gain, which has led to the prevalent belief there, that our political institutions, based entirely upon public opinion, must from its dissolute condition be soon overthrown? It may be urged that Captain Marryatt has not been authorized to express the opinions of any body of politicians among us, and therefore they are not to be considered responsible for any of the doctrines in his book. We freely admit his want of express authority. But we appeal to the book itself, which treats in detail of the political transactions throughout the whole warfare waged by the partizans of the Bank of the United States against the productive interests of the country, for the clearest internal proof of the real paternity of many views, which had lost their immediate interest, some of them years before he arrived in this country. That he abused the hospitality of his friends, and violated the confidence with which he was treated, is not unlikely. They are somewhat remarkable~ for explanations not intended to be made public. Many indiscreet disclosures doubtless were made during those convivial periods of exultation which were so frequent at one period of his visit. We recollect that some of his associates became nearly frantic with joy at the result of the elections in several of the States, during the suspension of 18371838. But we can perceive no reason why the people of the United States may not avail themselves of expo- sitions made during that period, especially when the party to which these individuals belong are organizing for a most violent struggle to obtain the command of the governrnentrefusing on the one hand to submit any public explanation of their principles or intentions to the people, in order that private representations to suit every shade of feel- ing may be made, and on the other sparing neither exertions or expen- ditures to bring the whole organization of our government under sub- jection to their plans. The statements of Capt. Marryatt receive pecu- liar value and authenticity from the fact, that some of the cooler and more sagacious lenders of the party manifested at the time of those re- joicings evident apprehensions as to the untoward consequences of pouring forth their designs, which had occurred on previous occasions. At their crowning triumph over the democracy, at the Astor House, in- dividuals of their own partyeven those who had paid the ten dollars demanded for their tickets.were rigorously excluded, unless previously 1840.] American, Aristocracy. 115 approved as capable of carrying themselves with discretion. This ap~ peared at the time, from sundry discussions on the subject in their newspapers. We are willing that all proper allowances should be made for the exaggerations incident to the inspiration habitual to all victories of that party, whether celebrated in anticipation or otherwise. We are aware that it would not be just to charge the whole party with such extravagances. But it should be borne in mind that the party has al- ways been controlled by such leaders. At no period of our history has their influence been more conspicuous than at this moment. The de- velopements of this book are, therefore, quite as instructive to every lover of his country, as though they had been mac1e~ by partizans of more sagacity, and upon more sober occasions. It is only necessary in estimating them to overlook those exuberant statements of matters of fact, to which such individuals are prone. The doctrines they are in- tended to illustrate may probably be gathered more fully under such circumstances, than any othersince out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaketh, besides the classical adage, in, vino veritas. On page 156 may be found a summary of the doctrines which are interspersed throughout the volume in these terms: The fact is that an aristocracy is absolutely necessary for America, both politi- cally and morally, if the Americans wish their institutions to hold together, for if some stop is not put to the rapidly advancing power of the people, anarchy must be the result. I do not mean an aristocracy of title. I mean such an aristocracy of talent and power which wealth will givean aristocracy which shall lead society and purify it. Howls this to be obtained in a democracy ?simply by purchase. In a country where the suffrage is confined to certain classes, as in England, such pur- chase is not to be obtained, as the people who have the right of suffrage are not poor enough to be bought. But in a country like America, where suffrage is universal, the people will eventually sell their birth-right; and if by such means an aristocra- tical government is elected, it will be able to amend the constitution, and pass what laws it pleases. This may appear visionary, but it has been proved already that it can be done, and if it can be done now, how much more easily will it be accomplish- ed when the population has quadrupled, and the division commences between the rich and poor. I say it has been done already, for it was done at the last New York election. The democratic party made sure of success; but a large sum of money was brought into play, and the whole of the committees of the democratic party were bought over, and the whigs carried the day. The greatest security for the duration of the present institutions of the TYnit~d States, is an establishment of an aristocracy. It is the third power which was in- tended to act, but which has been destroyed and is now wanting. Let the Senate be aristocraticallet the Congress be partially so, and then what would be the American Government of President, Senate and Congress, but, mutato comma, King, Lords and Commons? No evidence could more conclusively show Captain Marryatts ig. norance of all political principles and history, so far as regards his in- dependent acquisitions, than these allusions to his own country. Can there be found another Englishman who has reached the years of man- hood, who does not know that votes and even seats in Parliament are purchased with as little ceremony in England, as any other co~nmo 116 American Aristocracy. [August, dity? The truth is, his sea-going education placed him at the mercy of the representations of others, on that subject as entirely, as with re- gard to the trafficking of the New York committees. This was doubt- less among the exploits recounted to the Captain, and was implicitely believed, because he relied upon the narrators, and, it was perfectly con- aistent with their avowed policy in other respects. But our main business is with the theory of government which, upon the same authority, he pronounces to be that which is alone fitted for this country. It is identical with that promulgated by Hamilton, John Adams, Fisher Ames, and the leaders of the party during the reign of terror. Not only the doctrines, but the mode of operation, are the same with those of Hamiltons speech in the Convention which framed the Constitution, the report of which has been published in the Madison Papers, since this book made its appearance. Does any body suppose that this scheme of government resulted from the political meditations of the rattle-brained sailor ~ It would be the most extraordinary exhibi- tion in the same individual, of silliness and sagacity ever made public. The plan originated at an early period of our history with individuals whose self-important vanity ~led them to under-rate the intelligbnce of the people at large. It has since been cherished in the hearts of nume- rous persons who have been successful in schemes of pecuniary gain, drawn from the labor of others by cunning devices, for whom they en- tertain that hatred and distrust which is inevitable in grovelling minds towards the victims of their unworthy passions. Of late years this plan has never been publicly advocated excepting in period~ of public cala- mity. During the embargo and the subsequent war, it was zealously promulgated, simultaneously with the treasonable negociations with England charged upon the party by one of its principal leaders, John Quincy Adams. When this contest had triumphantly ended, then came the era of good feelings and all traces of the secret designs of this party were studiously kept out of sight. They began to re-appear under the guises with which craft so well knows how to shroud its projects, when the deep financial embarrassments into which the whole country had been plunged by the banks convulsed the Union. Then c4me the articles of Sidney endorsed by the solemn resolutions of the Great Whig Meeting at New York, held a short time before the ar- rival of Captain Marryatt, at which, for the first time in the history of mankind, it was made a portion of a political creed, that wealth is the test of merit. Where all political power is made, by the laws and moral standard of any community, the subject of pecuniary purchase, this principle may be practically true. It therefore coincides pre- cisely with the doctrines we have quoted. But unfortanately, when the security of wealth depends wholly upon the movement of paper cur- rency, controlled by a few gambling speculators, merit under this de- flaition becomes an evanescent quality. The only standard of character is to be found in the quotations of the board of brokers. The test 1840.1 American Aristoc racy. 117 of merit depends upon the rise and fall of fancy stocks. Finally, many of those who were originally most vociferous in its support now find themselves, from unlucky speculations and unavailable debts, unable to face their creditors without the protection of a law which, under the specious title of a bankrupt law, is intended for the sole advantage of debtors. Having been stripped without remorse of all their property by the managers of a false and delusive currency, thousands of them are now imploring Congress for an absolute exemption from their debts, by the extinguishment of all pre-existing contracts at the option of debt- ors! To this complexion has the test of merit come at last. The individuals who were mainly accessory to the ruin of these dupes of the system, now endeavor to retain their ascendency over them by af- fecting to advocate the destruction at once of the securities on which le- gitimate credit is founded. Like the bloody sacrifices of their own children among the Phcenicians of old, the destruction of families and friends seems only to confirm the idolatry of the devotees of paper money! - Should any rational individual, from the force of education, or deep- seated prejudice, honestly believe that an aristocracy is essential to the stability of our political institutions, the first question is, how can such a class be created ? such an aristocracy of talent and power which wealth will grveas Captain Marryatt pronounces to be absolutely essential. Is any one so stupid as to suppose that our present bubble- aristocracy will lead society and purify it VNot until public feeling in this country has become insensible to the distinctions between virtue and vice, honesty and swindling. The ephemeral insects who display during a brief existence their gaudy brilliancy in the sunshine, are quite as permanent as most of this class. Their ostentatious profligacy has produced more demoralization in society than all other causes put to- gether. Suddenly emerging from obscurity, without industry, merit, or capacity, their example has been deeply injurious to the rising genera- tion, by the contempt it has brought upon the sober virtues of diligence and economy. The authority given by law to a few individuals to create a currency which costs nothing, because it is intrinsically worth- less, has invested them with the temporary control over all the pro- perty in the country. This control has enabled them to organize mo- nopolies which compel every individual in the community to contribute a large portion of his earnings to increase their power. By holding out hopes of gain as the reward of political subserviency, and apprehen- sions of loss by pursuing the path of independent integrity, they have been able on several occasions to infuse into the minds of great numbers of citizens a devoted zeal in support of their schemes. A few despe- rate speculators with or without propertyand under the management of this system it is impossible to distinguish the one from the other are empowered by the forms of law, not only to dupe and defraud the 118 American Aristocracy. [August, honest and industrious classes, but to undermine and impair the secti- rity of every estate in the country. Such profligate adventurers are no more worthy to be deemed an aristocracy, than are that elegantly decorated class of thieves who infest London, commonly known by the name of swells. They inflict upon society all the worst evils which the exclusive privileges of any body of aristocracy ever visited upon a nation, without a particle of redeeming benefit. The aristocracy of Europe is as different in its origin and design from this mushroom progeny of paper money, as an ancient feudal castle is from the preposterous architecture, which, under the name of a country seat, so frequently and appropriately represents the taste and permanency of its stock-jobbing owner. The foundations of the aris- tocratic principle, in those countries where it has exercised its most conservative powers, were laid during the general confusion of society which prevailed in the Dark Ages. Its history in France, whence this institution was carried to England by the conquest of William the Norman, may be briefly stated, and is not without instructio.n. Either the military leaders of those warlike barbarians who sub- verted the Roman Empire, and enslaved the bulk of the population, or other individuals distinguished for their talents and courage during that period of anarchy, became rulers over large sections of territory. On the maturity of the feudal system, this authority became hereditary. The right of commanding in war, of governing in peacej and of de- termining all civil and criminal controversies, became vested in the head of the family, and descended by primogeniture. Each was sur- rounded by his feudal dependants, while ihe mass of the people ~vere villeins, enjoying no privileges but those possessed at this day by the serfs of Russia, or even the plantation slaves of the South. The power of the nobility was such, that they were generally able to set their nominal superior, the king, at defiance, whenever it suited their views, and on important occasions to resist his authority by open hos- tilities. Century after century, the restraint of this inordinate ascend- ancy of the aristocracy was th& principal object of royal policy. By slow degrees during the bloody wars with England, carried on in the bosom of France, this great point was advanced. It made further pro- gress during the half century of civil wars of which religion was either the cause or the pretext. The lectures on DAVILA, the historian of that period, published by John Adams, indicate how perfectly his mind was imbued with all the maxims of the aristocracy of France during that turbulent period. The overreaching and suicidal rivalry of individual nobles during these vicissitudes had so much distracted and weakened the authority of their order, that Cardinal Richelien was able to accom- plish the overthrow of their political power, previous to the accession of Louis XIV. In his reign the whole authority of the state was con- centrated in the king. The only remaining vestiges of the former 1840.] American ArisIocrac~,a. 119 political importance of the aristocracy, were the privileges of enjoying all the civil and military offices of the crown,.and being exempted from all taxes and public burdens. From independent sovereigns, exercising absolute power over their vassals, and waging war at their pleasure, against any who might infringe upon their security or their pride, the great nobility were humbled to mere courtiers, wholly destitute of consequence excepting from royal favor. The prodigal expenditures caused by the profuse magnificence of Loins le Grand and his vast warlike enterprises against the rest of Europe, plunged the finances of France into such disorder, that during the reign of his successor, the paper money schemes of John Law were embraced with avidity as the only mode of relief In our num- ber for March, 1839, a full account of the origin, progress, and result of these schemes was given from the highest authority. The system produced such a general overthrow of property and confidence, as still further to derange the public finances. Finally, the war in which France embarked, by making common cause with this country in her struggle for independence, brought on a crisis. Every expedient within the control of the ministry for carrying on the public service was ex- hausted. Only the power of taxing the property of the aristocracy was adequate for the emergency. This could be given by the States General alone, which by the fundamental usages of the kingdom repre- sented each order of the monarchy. Such an assembly had not been convened since the reign of Louis XIII. But the necessity of the oc- casion caused it to be convoked, after an interim of a century and a half, in 1789. Many of the individuals who composed the aristocracy of France at that period, possessed liberal and enlarged minds. They clearly un- derstood that the public prosperity, equally with private security, had been impaired by the social degradation of the great mass of the community. They had become convinced that the restoration of man to his rights as man, was the only effectual and permanent mode of retrieving the exhausted energies of the state. The people at large had been prostrated and trampled upon in the pursuit of schemes of aggrandizement, as fallacious as they had proved ruinous. To elevate their character and protect their interests, was the indispensable basis of all real improvement. Another portion of the nobility, actuated by various views of personal ambition, professed a great hypocritical re- gard for the people, in the hope of being able by popular clamor, to compel the crown to reinvest their order with a portion of the political power extorted from their ancestors during the. sixteenth and seven- teenth centuries. Then the ministry of the king, and their dependents~ determined that the property of the privileged class should be placed within reach of taxation, were anxious to gain the popular support of this leading projeet for which the States General were assembled. These various views and interests combined to inflame a nation which 120 American Aristocracy. [August, had been oppressed to the lowest pitch of national degradation. In addition to so many causes of excitement operating at once upon a mer- curial people, they were at the period in question almost infuriated by scarcity. It ought not to appear marvellous at the present day, that the portion of the aristocracy ~vho proposed to use the people as mere instruments of terror, to compel the crown to share its power with them by increasing their authority, should have seized upon such a crisis for stirring up the populace by demoralizing expedients. We have not only seen the distress of our citizens attempted to be employed with a similar design by our mock aristocracy, but have witnessed their deliberate, premedi- tated manmuvres to produce such distress, by means of their control over the paper currency in general circulation, in order to turn the suf- ferings of the people as a conclusive argument against their responsible government. The conduct of a very numerous portion of the French aristocracy on the occasion referred to was equally suicidal. They discovered, when it was too late to repair the evil,, that the exasperated passions of great masses of needy individuals, though it may seem a stroke of refined policy to put them in motion, require something more powerful than politicians usually possess, to guide the extrava; gant exhibitions which are inevitable from the influence of such deep and universal sympathy. The result of their short-sighted manage- ment is too well known to need recital. That great nation was pre- cipitated into the most deplorable excesses which lasted for ten long and bloody years. From this state of anarchy France was at last rescued by the stern despotism of Napoleon. The result has been the obliteration of the ancient aristocratic principles from the actual gov- ernment of the nation. The condition of society has doubtless been ameliorated by the Revolution. Property in the soil, which before the Revolution was almost exclusively held by the nobility and the church, has become more generally distributed than in any other country in Europe. The fundamental security of social order, the diffusion of means of subsistence, which makes it the interest of every individual to protect the rights of the whole, has in a great degree removed the great sources of demoralization which led to such lamentable consequences. Poverty is the prolific motive ofcrime in every state of society. But contentment is not to be immediately expected after the excitement of the last half century. A brief calm is not sufficient to allay the waves of ocean agitated by long continued storms. The thirst of glory, inflamed to the highest pitch by the victories of Napoleon, became as ungoverna- ble a passion as the appetite for pecuniary gain, infused into all classes in this country by the achievements of the Great Financier. A long period of successful war is precisely like a period of paper money speculation in this respect. It creates a large class of individuals whose minds have been continually agitated by deep excitement, and who find it impossible to be satisfied in the quiet diligence demanded by the 1840.] Americcu& Aristocracy. 121 pursuits of ordinary life. We can easily imagine the internal difficul- ties of France, when we call to mind the fermentation which has so fre- quently convulsed our community by the suddea fluctuation of prices the marvellous tales of immense fortunes acquired without either capi- tal or laborthe thousands who have been seduced from the walks of industry, and have abandoned all regard to fair dealing and the princi- ples ofjustice, in the ardent pursuit of wealth. It has been an ordinary artifice of the ener~iies of equal rights to as- cribe all popular excesses to the asceniency of democratic principles. In point of fact, wherever the people themselves exercise the real power of self government, no opportunity can exist for such excesses. They can at once change the whole policy of the state by substituting new agents in the ordinary course, to carry out their views. There can be no Occasion for rebellion under such a system of government. But where the whole authority of our state is vested in an aristocracy, should the people feel aggrieved, whether with or without sufficient cause, they can only be kept in subjection to the laws by a mercenary force, as in England and Ireland at this moment. The two classes of the community are placed in a hostile attitude merely by the relation of irresponsible rulers on the one hand, and the condition of vassalage on the other, without hope of redress except by operating on the fears of their real masters. Where the people themselves constitute the de- fence of the country by an organized militia, called into service only when required by public exigencies, no power of subjugation exists, like that so often exerted in Europe by mercenary standing armies. Such a militia is an essential element of the system of self government. The attempt to confound its efficient organization for purposes of pub- lic defence, with the creation of a mercenary army, is precisely similar to the pretexts under which mobs have occasionally been excited in this country by the enemies of popular rightssuch as the Post Office mob at Boston, the currency mobs at New York, the election mobs at Philadelphia, the Bank of Maryland mob at Baltimore, and the late mob at St. Louis excited for the purpose of compelling the State Bank to suspend specie payments. They all spring from a common origin a misguided desire to advance individual profit at the expense of the general welfare. The industrious classes of society are composed of men of like passions with the rest of humanity. They are exposed to seductions and liable to be misled by impulses. Whenever they have been artfully excited into the perpetration of excesses, by the mock aristocracy who are to lead society and to purify it, their extrava- gances are invariably charged upon the~ doctrines of equal rights. Capt. Marryatt.s whole design is conceived in this spirit. The demoralization produced by the wholesale swindling of the banks is coolly charged upon the Jackson dynasty and it is taunted with re- garding a breach of trust towards it as not of any consequence, while, in fact, th~whole course of the administration has been a struggle 112 122 American Aristocracy. LAugust, against the enormities introduced and protected by the paper money power. The ideas contained in the following extracts from page 143, are repeated in various shapes throughout the book: I have before observed that whatever society permits, men will do and not con- sider to be wrong; and if Government considers a breach of trust towards it as not of any consequence, and defaulters are permitted to escape, it will of course become no crime in the eyes of the majority. Such is unfortunately the case at present. It may be said to have commenced with the Jackson dynasty, and it is but a few years since this dreadful demoralization has become so apparent and so shamelessly avowed. It may indeed he fairly said that nothing is disgraceful with the majority in America, which the law cannot lay hold5 of. You are either in or out of the pene- tentiary. If you are once in, you are lost forever, but keep out, and you are as good as your neighbor. This picture, evidently drawn from life around him, requires no com- ment. Its practical doctrines have been too often displayed by those whom Capt. Marryatt holds up as the only class who can lead society and purify it.. Instead of elevating the tone of moral feeling and ad- vancing the welfare of the community at large, many of them seem determined, as far as can be judged by their measures, to degrade so- ciety into a band of marauders upon each other, where the weak are plundered with impunity by the powerful. To return to our account of the origin and design of Europe~tn aristocracy. We have seen that in France it sprang from the over- throw off the previously settled order of things, which required the inter- posifion of powerful individuals for the common protection. Like all power without limitation for which the possessors are not responsible, it finally run into extravagant excesses, and ruined itself. Its course in England from the period of the Conquest was similar in most respects to that of France until the fifteenth century, when the whole order was nearly extirpated by the Wars of the Roses, as the conflict between the rival families of York and Lancaster, for the possession of the crown, is familiarly called. This destruction of the ancient aristocracy of England, not only paved the way for the introduction of the Reforma- tion in the next century, but effected at once a great social revolution. Previously to these ~vars, a great majority of the population were predial slaves of the nobility. During the century which this conflict lasted, villeinage disappeared, without leaving any distinct trace of the mode in which the relation of master and slave were dissolved. When civil dissensions had arrayed the ~vhole physical force of the nation in arms, it was probably effected by the free consent of all parties. It is * In a note to this passage, the subject of the investment of English Capital in State Stocks and public works is discussed at length. The identity of his views with those promulgated by some of the leadinr authorities of Wall-street will be under stood by quoting the following sentence, which concludes the essay. The only ultimate chance of recovering the money is by this country (England) compelling the payment of it by the Federal Government ! 1840.J Americai& Aristocracy. 123 a curious fact in connexion with the Norman aristocracy, that the feudal system never was tolerated in Norway, whence most of these families derived their origin. Villeinage prevailed throughout the rest of~ Eu- rope, and the Normans were mainly instrumental in imposing it upon other nationsbut never permitted it to exist in their native country. That enterprising race were not only vigilant in resisting all attempts against their domestic liberty, but in securing great equality of property among themselves, with a degree of general intelligence quite extraor- dinary during the most benighted periods of European history. One of the most interesting publications we have recently met with, is Mr. Laings account of his residence in Norway for several years, describing the present state of society there, which appears to be substantially the same as that which prevailed a thousand years ago. The aristocracy originally established in England by the Conqueror having been greatly reduced in numbers, and the few surviving fami- lies having been stripped of most of their property and eflicient power in the course of the long and bloody contest referred to, the ranks of the nobility were first extensively recruited by the most conceited, merce- nary and pusillanimous of her monarchs. Few of the English aris- tocracy of the present day enjoy titles granted anterior to the accession of James I. With the efflux of titular honors showered upon England by his mean-spirited favoritism, a tide of royal monopolies arose for the gratification of his courtiers. This was an abuse of commerce wholly destructive of its great objects, which was more pardonable at that time, than at the present day, when every man of intelligence perceives that equal justice is the soul of nfl commercial interchanges. Exclusive privileges are radically hostile to fair and honest dealings. When the list of royal charters granted by James was read in the House of Coin- rnons, one of the members inquired whether the exclusive right of making bread had not been given by the king to some of his depen- dents ~ This question was asked only to express an opinion of the character of these monopolies. It was reserved for the ingenuity of the present age to contrive and execute a scheme of monopoly which should enable a few persons to control the supply of food necessary for the subsistence of a whole people. With a few illustrious exceptions, the body of the hereditary law- givers of England, whose nobility dates previous to the rise of the paper money system, owe their rank to the weakness of James I., the arbitrary designs of his son and successor, and to the profligate tyranny of his two grandsons. rf he whole period since the abdication of James II. may be regarded as a single reignthe rule of public debt and paper money. Accessions have been made to the nobility from all quarters, both domestic and foreignfor all kinds of services, pub- lic and private, personal and political. The tide of corruption has swept away all land marks. Only two classes of society in fact no~v exist in England, tax payers and tax consumers,the latter including 124 American Aristocracy. [August, those whose overgrown revenues are inflated by corn laws, and other schemes of plunder, devised for the purpose of upholding a paper sys- tem, which has entailed upon the industry of the people at large, the burden of a public debt amounting to within a fraction of four thousand millions of dollars. The tax-consumers exercise absolute power over the whole machinery of the state. Some idea of the processes em- ployed may be understood by those who have contemplated the in- fluence of debt and paper money upon our legislative bodies. While the theory of the English constitutionthe prerogative of the crown, the authority of the hierarchy, and the privileges of the aristocracyis the same as at the accession of the Stuart family, in practice the whole have been s~vallowed up by pecuniary influence. For more than a century England has been ruled with exclusive re- gard, not to the welfare of the people, but to the profit of the few who have obtained the command of Parliament. The House of Commons, which in theory represents the people, has degenerated into a mere private corporation; the majority of whose members are elected like a board of bank directors, either by themselves, or by a few wealthy indi- viduals whose dictation they arti obliged to obey. The rights and the security of the whole nation have been made subservient to the merce- nary schemes of irresponsible persons who exercise the power of the state. The crown has become substantially dependent upon them. Measures which have involved the whole empire, flowed from their views of personal aggrandizement. The American Revolution was brought on by their determination to put their hands into our pockets without our consent. The wars for the subjugation of Asia were waged for plunder, as was amply proved by Burke. The crusade against France was solely undertaken and carried on to prevent the productive classes in England from participating in the hopes of ameliorating their condition, which had been excited by the prostration of the power of the privileged orders in the former country. In our article on the Credit System, which may be found in the Number for November, 1838, the immediate profits of this enterprize to its managers was succinctly shown. By the public burdens occasioned by these measures, the population of the British Empire have been sunk in the scale of comfort to a relative condition even more depressed than the villeins of the feudal period. No one can contemplate the course of policy which has led to these results, without being deeply impressed by the contrast between the views of individuals belonging to the remaining families, who retain the property and honors derived from their remote ancestors, and those politicians who have puffed themselves into importance by paper money, public debt, government contracts, East and West India jobs, and by stock-gamblinga class which, in all countries where it has arisen to consequence, has been invariably opposed to the welfare of the people at large, and has always endeavore4 to restrict their political rights. While the rem- 1840.] - American Aristocracy,. 125 nant of the ancient aristocracy have evinced their sincere conviction that public and private security can only be permanently promoted by enabling those who are compelled to maintain the burdens of govern- ment to participate in its functions, the parvenu dignities which have owed their elevation to traffic, trickery, and corrupt legislation, mani- fest the most deep rooted distrust of the people, and a settled hostility to the welfare and comfort of those classes from which they themselves have emerged only by cunning, accident, or servility. In the speech of Sir James Mackintosh upon the bill for reforming the House of Commons, delivered in that House on the 4th of July, 1831, that great ornament of literature and philosophy expressed himself on this point with great force. A single passage will serve to show the character of his views: Those among the nobility distinguished by ample possessions, by historical names, by hereditary fame, interwoven with the glory of their country, have on this occasion been the foremost to sho~v their confidence in the people, their unsuspect- ing liberality in the enlargement of popular privileges, their reliance on the sense and honesty of their fellow-citizens, as the best safeguard of property and of order, as well as of the other interests of society. The tendency of our legislation towards the same channels which has led to the degradation of the bulk of the people of England and Ireland, has not sufficiently attracted the notice of our citizens. De- nunciations of the swinish multitude as their own worst enemies, who have nothing to do with laws but to obey them, have indeed gone out of fashion of late. But is not the same hostility to the high est,~interests of the community displayed in plausible schemes for misleading the people by specious advantagesby hollow appeals to their cupidity? Is not that affectation of liberality, humanity, and condescension, which is to be gratified by levying taxes upon the people, even more insulting than the strongest epithets of contumely? During the discussions in Parliament upon the B eform Bill, it was admitted that one-third patt of the property in England had been created by corrupt legislation out of nonentity and was merely a dead weight upon the industry of that country. The most powerful objection urged against new modelling the House of Commons was that the security of this description of pro- perty might be hazarded whenever that House should represent the real interests of the people. It was estimated, on that occasion, that the whole value of the land, agricultural stock, and the capital employed in the production of food, amounted to one thousand and fifty-six pounds sterlingthe mines, canals, timber, & c., to about two hundred and fifty millionsthe dwelling houses, man ufactories, warehouses, shipping, & c., capital employed in commerce and manufactures, to five hundred and nine millionsmaking a grand total a little short of ten thousand mil- lions of dollars. Upon this aggregate of property, the national debt o eight hundred millions sterling, somewhat more than three thousand six hundred mitl~ons of dollars is a perpetual mortgage, amounting 126 Ameriau& Aristocracy. [August, to more than one-third of its actual value, and requiring an annual payment of interest of one hundred and fifty millions of dollars from the earnings of the people, besides the maintainance of the royal dignity, the army and navy, and the cost of the vast public establishments at home and abroad. The operation of the taxes imposed upon the people for the purpose of meeting this annual exp~nditure ~vas exhibited in a striking light, and fully explains the spectacle which the enormous wealth of the few, and the squalid poverty of the many, present to every observer. It was demonstrated that for every pound sterling raised upon commodities by taxation, the price was enhanced at least six pounds in the hands of the intermediate dealers, who required not only to be repaid the original advances made to the public revenue, but each demanded his ratio of profit in a regularly increasing progression from the consumers. The forty millions sterling collected by the excise and assessed taxes, were shown to have increased,the expenses of living to the people at least two hundred and forty millions. We may under- stand this process by reflecting that we often pay twenty dollars for a coat, the prime cost of which, to the importer, did not exceed twelve or fifteen shillings, though cloths do not necessarily pass through so many hands in this country, as exciseable commodities in England, before they reach the consumer. It is this vast enhancement of prices, so little understood by the people at large, which, in a free and equal govern- ment, constitutes the greatest objection to indirect taxation. Some of the most patriotic statesmen of England have earnestly ad- vocated the policy of relieving the productive labor of that country from the pressure of this unequal burden, by paying off at once the national debt. This wonld reduce the nominal amount of property as we have seen about one-third, while the real wealth of the kingdom would be increased by enabling industry to enjoy its appropriate reward. Pro- perty would not be disturbed, any further than that the holders of the existing mortgage would be paid off. They are justly entitled to the portion of the capital of the country for which they hold security. But while industry can be compelled to pay the interest from its earnings, it can hardly be expected that the property holders who enjoy the whole control of legislation, will submit to this equitable exchange. In crea- ting this enormous debt for their own advantage, they did not intend to assume its burden, so long as they were able to compel the laboring classes to bear it, who comprise more than three-fourths of the people. This is the true origin of the popular disturbances which have from time to time occasioned so much alarm, notwithstanding the large standing army which is kept on foot. Chartism, Socialism, and all kinds of agrarian combinations, ~vill inevitably flourish and increase among the industrious classes, wherever such an iniquitous system prevails. The law of force is alone sufficient to sustain it. By de- priving the people of arms, by prohibiting them from meeting together, and by a rigid system of police which has recently been extended over 1840.] American A.ristocrac7j. 127 the whole kingdom, the public expression of their real feelings may be repressed for a brief period. But it is the invariable course of irre- sponsible power, to multiply its oppressions until they exceed human endurance. There is no probability that any alleviation of the burdens imposed upon the people of England by the paper system, will be vo- luntarily conceded by those who revel in power and wealth, by com- pelling the industrious classes to sustain the burdens~ while they enjoy none of the benefits of government. Nothing is so precious to the privileged class of community as a vested right, however unjust and onerous to the people at large. If purchased by the corruption of agents who were entrusted with guarding the public welfare, either by direct pecuniary temptation, or by agreeing that each may participate in the plunder of the people, it becomes more valuable. But where are the great securities of government, public confidence and equal justice? In 1831 the question came distinctly before the people of England, in the shape of Reform or Revolution. The corruptionists quailed upon this issue, and gave ~vay to the adoption of the measure which it was fondly hoped would lead to a more equitable distribution of the public burdens, and secure the public tranquillity in all future time. No amelioration has taken place, artifices of the tax consumers are as potent as ever, and the desperation of the masses has grown deeper and more dangerous. They feel that they have been cheated in addition to being robbed. The internal condition of England at this time fur- nishes a lesson full of instruction, to all who desire to enrich themselves at the expense of the common ~velfare by special legislation and con- clusive privileges. No commentary which we might be able to make upon Capt. Marryatts views in favor of the long cherished schemes of the party in this country who have endeavored to erect themselves into a tax-consuming aristocracy, would throw so much light upon the con- sequences of this policy as an attentive examination of the history of England for the last ten years, comprehending the agitation growing out of the question of Parliamentary Reform. We have now taken a hasty glance at the aristocracy of the two most enlightened nations of Europe. Our readers will be able to clothe the mere skeleton we have drawn. We have seen that the ancient nobility enjoyed great power, but they were coupled with corresponding duties. The abuse of these powers and the neglect of the duties, in the pursuit of vain schemes of personal ambition, destroyed the original ascendency of the order in England and France. In both countries the paper money power erected itself upon the ruins of the nobility. In France it rapidly ran ~o the crisis which sooner or later is inevitable to its na- ture, and produced a train of social and financial disorders which result- ed in a revolution the most terrible and universal to be found on The pages of human history. In England the paper money power still re- tains its ascendency by means of-its control over all the functions of the government. Its progeny and supporter, the national debt, is princi 128 American Aristocracy. [August, pally owned by its subjects, and it merely interferes with the domestic distribution of the earnings of industry. It takes from the poor his pittance to increase the superfluity of the rich, but nothing is abstracted from the general wealth of the nation. The power of corruption re- mains not only unimpaired, but appearsto be increasing with the general poverty and dependence of the mass of the people. When it becanve necessary to organize a new form of government for this country in consequence of the relaxation of the sanctions of proper- ty arising from local rivalry, stimulated by the abuse of paper money, some of the individuals who had distinguished themselves in the Revo- lutionary contest, both in the cabinet and the field, manifested great distrust of the people, and professed to regard them a~ incapable of self-government. An aristocracy was regarded by a large class of their followers as indispensable to the public security. They were foiled in the attempt to engraft this principle into the fundamental laxv of the new government, and indeed nothing could be more absurd than the enterprise. The equality which had prevailed in this country from its original settlement, the laws of distribution ~vhich secured the con- tinuance of this equality in most of the States, as well as the spirit of the people and the character of their institutions happily coincided with the interests of humanity. The population of the United States, wholly different in this respect from that of the nations of Europe, had not been prepared for the ascendency of a privileged order by centuries of de-. grading dependcnce. The only aristocracy which it was possible to exert in this country until the customs and institutions of society should be wholly overturned and new modelled, could be only lords of six weeks. This title of nobility during the ascendency of the great coin- inercial republic over the commerce of the world, was habitually ap- plied at Amsterdam to those who profusely squandered the hard earnings of years in the East. They were encouraged to dissipate their means in order to keep them in dependence to the great corporation which controlled the trade of Asia at that time. The same kind of nobility flourishes in many of our cities, though our languages does not enable us to designate them in a word so significant as the Dutch phrase. The example of England in the creation of a paper money power, led the projectors of an aristocratical class, notwithstanding the disas- trous experience of this country in the evils of paper money, to organize a system in avowed imitation of that of the mother country. The ma- chinery of a national debt, in connexion with paper money banking, was established under the forms of law. The supporters and advocates of this system have urbdoubtedly been disappointed in the intelligence and capacity of the people of this coun- try. The world has seen that crafty and sagacious men, in attempting to overreach the whole community like ours, may succeed for a time, but eventually will be duped by a blind confidence in their own powers of deception. Their schemes have from time to time inflicted enormous 1840.] American Aristocracy. 129 losses and sufferings upon the community, but the contrivers and mana- gers have not always escaped their full proportion of the afflictions pre- pared for others. The foundation of these schemes was laid in creating corporations under the irresponsible control of a few individuals, with power to issue, without personal liability, the representative of the universal standard of value. The charter of such a corporation was held to be a vested right which could not be annulled by the power which created it, though exercised by representative agents in defiance of the wishes and interests of their principals. When once obtained, by whatever means, it was absolute and irresponsible. It enabled its managers to control the whole property of the country. A dollar belonging to them was as valuable for all the purposes of active life as ten or even twenty times the amount in the hands of any body else; for this dollar might be represented by paper ten or twenty times over at their option. Such a currency among an enterprizing people could not fail to en gender a general spirit of gambling. The security of property and the means of subsistence, continually fluctuated with the vibrations of a pyramid standing upon its apex, instead of its base. The state of constant alarm and apprehension into which all commercial men have been thrown by this system, has afforded its managers a never failing fund of plausible reasons for urging them to embark in political in- trigues for the purpose of increasing its power over the people. They have been compelled to withdraw their attention from their pursuits, in order to study the possible consequence of some scheme of special legislation. How many instances might be mentioned of measures adopted within the last forty years which produced results directly the reverse of those contemplated by the contrivers? One of the most striking and familiar cases is the deposite law of 1836. The managers and dependents of the banks in all parts of the country were clamor- ous for this measure. They doubtless believed it would increase and confirm the prosperity, with ~vhich the speculations of that and the preceding year, stimulated by enormous expansions of paper currency, had intoxicated most of the mercantile community. It was plausibly urged, that many millions of money belonging to the people were locked up in a few banks, and kept from the use of its true owners. The secret design undoubtedly was, to require this public money which had been loaned to the customers of these banks, to be called for at once by law, which must destroy the credit of the banks in consequence of their inability to refund it, the Government become bankrupt, and Con- gress compelled to recharter the Bank of the United States in order to carry on the public service. No clearer proof of this intention can be required than is found in the terms of this la~v. Its leading enact- ment prohibits any bank from holding an amount of monet on deposite, exceeding three-fourths of its capital stock. It was notorious to every body who had seen the Treasury reports, that the ~most important de- VOL. VIII. NO. XXXI1.AUGUST, 1840. I 130 American Aristocracy. [August, posite banks, held at the date of this law, some of them five or six times more public money than could be lawfully permitted to remain for a single day after its passage. This money had been loaned to the mercantile community and invested. To compel the collection of this money at once, for the purpose in the first place of depositing it in other banks, and six months afterwards with the States, was requiring both banks and merchants to make sacrifices ruinous to both. The most marvellous circumstance connected with this measure was, that it was mainly advocated by those who professed peculiarnay almost exclu- sive attachment both to the banks and the merchants. Though this measure was obviously designed to bring the Bank of the United States again into power, it is difficult to foresee the final operation of such schemes. To prevent the alarming progress of the exchange of the public domain for bank credits so deeply jeopardied by this mea- sure, President Jackson had ordered the famous specie circular to be issued. At the following session Mr. Rives followed up the game, by his bill requiring bank notes to be received into the Treasury. We must in charity presume the ostensible author of this measure to be wholly ignorant of its intended operation. At the present period, with three more years of experience in regard to currency, probably few individuals can be found who can not perceive the object of that mea- sure to have been, to place the whole productive interests of the Union within the control of the most profligately managed banks. Those whose currency was of the least value would alone furnish the cur- rency to be paid into the Treasury. Whatever limitation was made as to their notes being payable in specie, will now be regarded as mere superfluity, if not intended to deceive the unwary. In a short time the Treasury would have been filled with paper currency wholly un- available. Then the same necessity would arise for the charter of the Bank of the United States as existed in 1816. Whenever the public Treasury can command nothing but paper currency, depreciated at the pleasure of the speculators who manufacture it, there seems to be no other mode of carrying on the functions of government. It was doubtless to avert this reproach against the vigilance of its constitutional agents that the patriotic Jackson refused to sign this bill. Happily for the country, the recent passage of the law organizing a public Trea- sury independent of the banks, wholly obviates all such schemes for the future, unless the speculators may hereafter find a Congress and President sufficiently corrupt to be willing to sell the welfare of the people, without any possible pretext of public necessity or prosperity to justify such an outrage upon the Constitution. That is their only hope. And it is the secret of the present struggle. The holders of the hundreds of millions of state stocks and corporation debts in every part of the United States which are now depressed in value, and many of them unsaleable at any price, have been led to believe that this property will at once be enhanced from ten to fifty per cent. by a 1840.] American Aristocracy. 131 change of administration. Influential politicians, undoubtedly from the suggestions of the stock-jobbers of London, have taken unwearied pains to impress these opinions upon interested parties, in order to induce them to contribute money for electioneering purposes. But after the experience of following such guides, which the last ten years have furnished, it would seem to be a wise conclusion that the people of this country are not yet prepared for the fate of those of England. Reflecting men, of each political party, in every quarter of the country, have generally made up their minds that the system of paper banking, as heretofore managed, is not only one of the greatest frauds ever inflicted upon the prosperity and security of property in any coun- try, but that it has been the source of most of the imposture and extra- vagance which has been visited upon society. If an aristocratical order of privileged individuals is to be maintained for the purpose of expel- ling honesty, industry, and the just principles of commercial interchange from the transactions of the whole community, it may be founded upon paper money banking. This system would he peculiarly fitted for the establishment of such an order, since its power is wholly dependent on ignorance and credulity, on the part of its victims, with a correspond- ing extent of impudence and assumption in its managers. The only capital required is the privilege of controlling and collecting exorbi- tant taxes. When charters refer to the amount of capital, the debts of the managers is meant. Property is not required in the outset, for that is intended to be acquired from the earnings of others, by interest and exchange on paper currency, supported by taxation. As long as the industry of the community can be compelled to contribute one-half or three-fourths of the profits of labor to sustain such a paper system, we may gradually approximate to the condition of the English aristocracy, until from the tenuity of the bubble, or some rude shock, an explosion is produced. The principal sufferers will he those who refused confi- dence in the system. The managers have either nothing to lose, or have succeeded in deriving sufficient property from its operations to qualify them to administer consolation in the shape of homilies to the ruined dependents of the system, upon commercial integrity, and the necessity of maintaining the credit of our institutions abroad. For a country like ours, producing in profusion the most important commercial staples, which find a ready demand in the great markets of the commercial worldfavored with political institutions as free as is consistent with the preservation of property and good orderinhabited by people of plain manners and simple habits, to tolerate a factitious cur- rency in the ordinary transactions of life, is not less absurd than it would be to imitate the example of the citizens of London in spending the day- light in slumber, and depend upon artificial illumination for business or amusement. A whole community may, by degrees, be brought to be- lieve sunshine is not so convenient as gas-light. In a great, compactly built city, fashion and custom may induce its citizens to carry on the 132 American Aristocracy. [August bulk of their most important business during the hours of natural dark- ness. The explosion of all the gas-pipes of London would not produce so much suffering and distress, as artificial currency controlled by a few individuals has repeatedly brought upon our citizens. Lamps and candles are much more readily provided than sound currency, when all the channels of circulation have been filled with substitutes which cost nothing, because they possess no intrinsic value. Those who choose to employ artificial light, or factitious money, may follow their tastes or convenience. But to compel the whole community to adopt either, by employing it in all public transactions, by the authority of law, for the advantage of a few speculators, seems the highest degree of infatu- ation. An agricultural community has, or ought to have, other em- ployments besides watching the gasometer, or pursuing the tricks of bank directors and stock-jobbers. The property of the American farm- er has not been acquired by the dark manceuvres of financiering. It has been wrought from the soil by hard labor in the face of day. Nothing can be more grossly unjust, than to bind him hand and foot to a combination of irresponsible persons enabled by law to control the currency, and to wield the consequent monopoly of tbe market. The discordant values of this artificial currency in the several sections of the Union, have not been less destructive to the true interests of those who manufacture and distribute the products of agriculture, than to the farmer. The medium which is employed to pay debts in one State, is regarded with contempt in another. This cannot be cured by an addi- tional flood of paper currency, but by adhering to the universal standard of value, established by the Constitution as a remedy for these evils. This has been strenuously resisted in our legislative bodies by those who profess to be the peculiar supporters of commerce and manufac- tures. So striking has their disregard of these important interests be- come, that one of the most distinguished statesmen of the country stated in the Senate, while the bill for preventing smuggling was under dis- cussion, that the members who had usually advocated the interests of the merchants had totally abandoned them in support of the Banks. It is upon their exclusive privileges that the upholders of the aristocratic principle have taken their position. In point of fact, none other has been found tenablebecause upon other questions than the complex one of currency, it has generally been found impossible to grant exclu- sive privileges to any favored body of individuals. Upon this men of all classes may be misled by their hopes and fears. It has accordingly been the salient point of all assaults upon the public security, and the order, tranquillity and comfort of social life. Having suggested that Captain Marryatt derived his ideas in regard to the defects of our political system from the leaders of the Opposition, as well as his remedy for these evils, it is but just to show by some further extracts the servility with which he follows their track through- out his book. The respect and regard with which he invariably al 1840.1 Arnericai& Ariseocrac7~. 133 ludes to them, and the vitipuration he misses no opportunity of visiting upon the Administration, indicate the extent of his obligations. For instance, Mr. Clay, according to the Captain, invariably leads the van in everything which is liberal and gentleman-like, p. 71,while that the morals of the nation have retrograded from the total destruction of the aristocracy, both in the government and in society, which has takea place within the last ten years, is most certain. The power has fallen into the hands of the lower orders; the officers under government have been chiefly filled up by their favorites, either being poor and needy men from their own class, or base and dishonest men who have sacrificed their principles and consciences for place. I shall enter more fully into this subject here- after; it is quite sufficient at present to say, that during Mr. Adamss Presidency, a Mr. Benjamin Walker was a defaulter to the amount of $18,000, and was in con- sequence incarcerated for two years. Since the democratic party have come into power the quantity of defeulters and the sums which have been embezzled of govern- ment money are enormous, and no punishment of any kind has been attempted. They say it is only a breach of trust, and that a breach of trust is not punishable ex- cept by a civil action; which certainly in the United States is of little avail, as the payment of the money can always be evaded. The consequence is, that you meet with defaulters, I will not say in the very best society generally, but in the very best society of some portions of the United States. I have myself sat down to a dinner party, to which I had been invited, with a defaulter to government on each side of me. I knew one that was setting up for Congress, and strange to say, his delinquency was not considered by the people as an objection. An American author states, on 17th June, 1838, the United States Treasurer reported to Con- gress sixty-three defaulters; the total sums embezzled amounting to one million, twenty thousand and odd dollars! This specimen of charging upon the democracy the sins of its oppo- nents with which the book abounds, affords us an insight of the grounds upon which the stock-jobbers of London have based their expect?~tion of controlling the enactment of laws for this country. Taking this rep- resentation of our people, and their habitual disregard to personal in - tegrity in the choice of their political agents to be accurate, nothing could be more natural than the belief that we had already reached the point of corruption which saddled its immense national debt upon the industry of England. That public peculation is but a breach of trust, and not a pe~na1 offence, is no fault of the democracy. From the first message of President Van Buren to Congress up to the present session unremitting efforts have been made to apply the only effectual remedy to this evil. But the party who hold that banks and bank-officers have a right to employ the money raised by the taxation of the people for their individual profit, have uniformly resisted the enactment of provi- sions which might involve personal liability in the perpetration of such abuses. It will be borne in mind that the writer of the following concentrated essence of the federal doctrine did not visit the United States until 1837, when the authority of the executive and the dominion of the laws were prostrated at once by the measures pursued by the banks and their sup- 134 American Aristocracy. [August, porters. At this eventful period could a stranger from abroad perceive in the position taken by the national executive in support of the public faith, only personal ambition, corruption, love of expediency, and con- z!empt for morality? I think .1 can show that the vices of the Americans are chiefly to he attributed to their present form of government. The example of the Executive is most injurious. It is insatiable in its ambition, regardless of its faith, corrupt in the highest degree, never legislating for morality, but always for expediency. This is the first cause of the low standard of morals; the second is the want of an aristocracy to set an ex- ample and give a tone to society. These are followed by the errors incident to the voluntary system of religion, and a democratic education. To these must be super- added the want of moral courage, arising from the dread of public opinion, and the natural tendency of a democratic form of government to excite the spirit of gain as the main spring of action, and the summum bonum of existence. The following is a mild specimen of the manner in which Captain Marryatt was taught to mention the present head of the government, page 120: Let us examine what Mr. Van Buren says in hislast message. First, he humbly acknowledges their power. A National Bank, he tells them, would impair the rightful supremacy of the popular will. And this he follows up with that most delicate species of flattery, that of praising them for the very virtue they are most deficient in; telling them they are a people to whom the truth, however unpromising, can be always told with safety. At the very time when they were defying all law and all government, he says, It was reserved for the American Union to test the advantage of a government en- tirely dependent on the continual exercise of the popular will, and our experience has shown that it is beneficent in practice as well as it is just in theory. At the very time when nearly the whole Union were assisting the insurrection in Canada with men and money, he tells them, that temptations to interfere in the intestine commotions of neighboring countries have been thus far successfully resisted. This is quite enough; Mr. Van Burens motives are to be nielected as President. That is very natural on his part; but how can you expect a people to improve who never hear the truth? His remarks upon the newspaper press of this country are too copi- ous for quotation. As might be expected, he mentions Webb, Noah, and Prentice, with unqualifled approbation. But it will be perceived by the following extract, that he is hardly complimentary to their readers: ~ Every man in America reads his newspaper, and hardly anything else; and while he considers that he is assisting to govern the nation, he is in fact, the dupe of those who pull the strings in secret, and by flattering his vanity, and exciting his worst feelings, make him a poor tool in their hands. People are too apt to imagine that the newspapers echo their own feelings; when the fact is, that by taking in a paper which upholds certain opinions, the readers are by daily repetition become so impressed with these opinions, that they have become slaves to them. I have before 1840.] The Voices of Home. 135 observed, that learning to read and write is not education, and but too often is the occasion of the demoralization of those who might have been more virtuous and happy in their ignorance.~~ We now close our notice of Capt. Marryatts book with the follow- ing curious passage from page 121. It seems to be a reqitiem or lament over such of his friends as have flinched, and a description of the chivalry which is now waging battle in support of his doctrines: It appears that the more respectable portions of its citizens have retired, leaving the arena open to those who are best worthy; that the majority dictate and scarcely any one ventures to oppose them; if any one does he is immediately sacrificed; the press, obedient to its masters, pours out its virulence, and it is incredible how rapidly a man, unless he be of a superior mind, falls into nothingness in the United States, when once he has dared to oppose the popular will. He is morally bemired, be- spattered, and trod under foot, until he remains a lifeless carcase. He falls never to rise again, unhonored and unrememberedp. 121. THE VOICES OF HOME. BY MRS. M. ST. LEON LOUD. Voices of home! ye are on the breeze, Ye are sighing low through the budding trees; Spring has come with a gentle reign, And ye are sounding oer hill and plain. From a far green valley ye come! ye come! Speak to the wanderer, voices of home! Tell me of those I shall see no more, Of all that I lovd in the days of yore; List! from the bank where the violet lies, Where the honey bee for his treasure flies, A voice of home! The bowers thou hast twined are green and fair, rhickly the blossoms are clustering there, Wilt thou not come? Sweet is the air with the breath of spring, Birds are abroad on a glancing wing, Each wild strain, from their joyous throats, Like a bursting chorus of welcome notes, Recalls thee home. Voices of home! would you bear me back, To the scenes of my childhoods sunny track? Would you win me away from my chosen lot, To pleasures the gay world knoweth not? Tell me, oh! tell me of that lovd hearth Where cluster the hopes and the joys of earth; Speak of the home I shall see no more, Of all that was dear in the days of yore;

Mrs. M. St. Leon Loud Loud, M. St. Leon, Mrs. The Voices of Home 135-137

1840.] The Voices of Home. 135 observed, that learning to read and write is not education, and but too often is the occasion of the demoralization of those who might have been more virtuous and happy in their ignorance.~~ We now close our notice of Capt. Marryatts book with the follow- ing curious passage from page 121. It seems to be a reqitiem or lament over such of his friends as have flinched, and a description of the chivalry which is now waging battle in support of his doctrines: It appears that the more respectable portions of its citizens have retired, leaving the arena open to those who are best worthy; that the majority dictate and scarcely any one ventures to oppose them; if any one does he is immediately sacrificed; the press, obedient to its masters, pours out its virulence, and it is incredible how rapidly a man, unless he be of a superior mind, falls into nothingness in the United States, when once he has dared to oppose the popular will. He is morally bemired, be- spattered, and trod under foot, until he remains a lifeless carcase. He falls never to rise again, unhonored and unrememberedp. 121. THE VOICES OF HOME. BY MRS. M. ST. LEON LOUD. Voices of home! ye are on the breeze, Ye are sighing low through the budding trees; Spring has come with a gentle reign, And ye are sounding oer hill and plain. From a far green valley ye come! ye come! Speak to the wanderer, voices of home! Tell me of those I shall see no more, Of all that I lovd in the days of yore; List! from the bank where the violet lies, Where the honey bee for his treasure flies, A voice of home! The bowers thou hast twined are green and fair, rhickly the blossoms are clustering there, Wilt thou not come? Sweet is the air with the breath of spring, Birds are abroad on a glancing wing, Each wild strain, from their joyous throats, Like a bursting chorus of welcome notes, Recalls thee home. Voices of home! would you bear me back, To the scenes of my childhoods sunny track? Would you win me away from my chosen lot, To pleasures the gay world knoweth not? Tell me, oh! tell me of that lovd hearth Where cluster the hopes and the joys of earth; Speak of the home I shall see no more, Of all that was dear in the days of yore; 120 The Voices of Home. [AuguBt. Hark! from the stream as it murmurs by, In the sunlight snaking glad melody, A voice of old! Greeti is the bank where thy young feet strayd, Cool is the air in the willow shade, And waves of gold Are flashing bright in the nountide ray, And music sounds, where the fountains play; Come! for flowers and young birds are there, The clear stream flows and thy home is fair As in days of old. Voices of home! do ye mock my prayer? Do the feet of my kindred still linger there? And she whose light like a holy star, Hath shone on my path in the world afar; Are the eyes still bright that upon me smild, And prayeth she still for her absent child? Brothers and sistersoh, where are they? Have they passed like me from that home away? Again! as the wind the green leaves stirrd, The wail of a mournful voice was heard A household tone! I swept along through the empty halls, And waved the grass on the mouldering walls, And the dark hearth stone. I roused the billows to mighty wrath, As a tall bark sped on its ocean path; And scattered the leaves from a pale white rose, As I passsed oer the graves where the dead repose Alone, alone. Voices of home! ye are gone! ye are gone! Ye passd away with that last sad tone Call me no more! for the home is dark, XVhere I turned, like the dove to its sheltering ark, The flowers I nursed may in splendor vie With the rainbow hues in the summer sky-~-. The joyful burst of the wild birds song The music of waters that glide along All that is glorious, all that is fair In the face of nature may linger there It is~home no more! For the golden links of affections chain, By deaths dark angel are broken in twain, And the dream is oer; Voices of home! farewell, farewell, Pass on in the midst of the loved to dwell; A sweeter voice to my lonely heart, Speaks of a mansion where kindred part No more, no more. 1340.J Wko Governs, tken? 137 WHO GOVERNS, THEN~* A TALE OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XYb (From the German of Zsckokke4 5. THE KING. I have been a long time expecting you, dear Marchioness. I understood that your Majesty had granted an audience to the English Ambassador. True, Madame, but the man has bored me dreadfully with his bu- siness, and I am glad to be rid of him. I found myself compelled at last to turn him over to the cardinal. But what ails you ?are you in- disposed ?can I believe that you have been shedding tears ~ Do you not feel well ? With my king I always feel well ! Dear, good Marchioness! Be seated. Have you brought your work with you ~f I will help you in stringing pearls, and tell you a capital story of Mademoiselle dAutuna love intrigue perfectly unique! You will hardly believe it. I have laughed myself half to death over it. But I cannot endure to see the eyes of my little Antoin. ette red with weeping. Tell me, first, has anything disagreeable oc- curred to you 7 Yes, sirevexation at the abominable depravity of some men, and grief f~or the cruelty with which they dare to torture the innocent, under the government of the best of monarchs. For Tell me all, my sweet child. Depend upon it I will set an example of severity. For who am Iwhat do I possess.-if not even the power to prevent yoif from shedding other tears than those of joy! Who has offended you ? He who offends the dignity and the honour of the most just and humane of kings.~~ The king started, and repeated his inquiry with an urgent curiosity. The marchioness repeated to him the villainy of M. de Gatrythe manner in which he intended to force the honest old b00k-keeper to as- sume the guilt of the crime committed by himself, and to escape from its consequences by means of a few thousand livres. She related the whole affair, with all the eloquence so peculiarly her own; and with the brilliancy of her own imagination so heightened the colours in the por. * Continued fioni page 96. 12

Who Governs, Then? A Tale of the Court of Louis XV. (From the German of Zschokke) 137-157

1340.J Wko Governs, tken? 137 WHO GOVERNS, THEN~* A TALE OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XYb (From the German of Zsckokke4 5. THE KING. I have been a long time expecting you, dear Marchioness. I understood that your Majesty had granted an audience to the English Ambassador. True, Madame, but the man has bored me dreadfully with his bu- siness, and I am glad to be rid of him. I found myself compelled at last to turn him over to the cardinal. But what ails you ?are you in- disposed ?can I believe that you have been shedding tears ~ Do you not feel well ? With my king I always feel well ! Dear, good Marchioness! Be seated. Have you brought your work with you ~f I will help you in stringing pearls, and tell you a capital story of Mademoiselle dAutuna love intrigue perfectly unique! You will hardly believe it. I have laughed myself half to death over it. But I cannot endure to see the eyes of my little Antoin. ette red with weeping. Tell me, first, has anything disagreeable oc- curred to you 7 Yes, sirevexation at the abominable depravity of some men, and grief f~or the cruelty with which they dare to torture the innocent, under the government of the best of monarchs. For Tell me all, my sweet child. Depend upon it I will set an example of severity. For who am Iwhat do I possess.-if not even the power to prevent yoif from shedding other tears than those of joy! Who has offended you ? He who offends the dignity and the honour of the most just and humane of kings.~~ The king started, and repeated his inquiry with an urgent curiosity. The marchioness repeated to him the villainy of M. de Gatrythe manner in which he intended to force the honest old b00k-keeper to as- sume the guilt of the crime committed by himself, and to escape from its consequences by means of a few thousand livres. She related the whole affair, with all the eloquence so peculiarly her own; and with the brilliancy of her own imagination so heightened the colours in the por. * Continued fioni page 96. 12 1~S Who Governs, then? jAugust, traiture which she drew of human malignity and helpless innocence, that she was again herself deeply moved by it Well, answered the king, when she had done, with a tone and countenance of astonishment, is it nothing more than that? What con- cern is it of ours? Let the courts take care of it. They will punish the guilty. Listen now to my story of the ridiculous intrigue of Mademoiselle dAutun. I venture only this single remark, sire, that the courts will not he able to mend the mischief when to.morrows sun shall have risen. When De Gatry is in possession of the book-keepers written confession, and the latter has effected his escape, he will be condemned, and De Gatry honored as a faithful officer, while your royal majesty will be defrauded of a million of francs. So it is, I confess. The cardinal must be advised of it. He is, I understand, De Gatrys especial patron. Then the Minister of Police. He must first send a confidential person to the book-keeper to ascertain the details. After that he can do all that is proper.~~ Excellent, sire! I cannot but equally admire the acuteness of your mind and the benevolence of your heart. It did not for a moment occur to me that De Gatry will be caught in his own trap, and every- thing detected, if the police can seize upon his own handwriting. Of course! You are a child, M& rchioness, to be astonished at the most simple course of affairs. Such athing is easily arranged; I ivill order the minister, orAh, I recollect, the Intendant of Police is still in attendance. The king rang the bell; a chamberlain appeared. The king ordered the Intendant of Police to the blue saloon, whither he himself imme- diately repaired. But you, he said to the marchioness, as he was departing, you will remain here. We must have our laugh at the expense of Made- moiselle dAutun. 6. THE EFFEcT. It ~vas already late in the evening when the book-keeper, Larmes, was sitting at the writing.desk of his room, pensively noting down va- rious memoranda. Nicholas stood by his side. Now, my dear son, began the old man, more composedly, after he had finished his work, there is nothing farther that weighs on my mind. Everything is set- tled. Come what may, I will never acknowledge myself guilty. I lean upon the arm of God. With a pure heart and clear conscience, 1840.1 TV/to Govents, then? 139 Colas, we can defy a host of executioners, and face all hell itself. And should I be sent to the galleys, I would go with a mind at ease. A knock was heard; an officer of police entered, and several armed men were to be seen in the dim light before the door, as it was opened. The officer apologized for his visit, saying that it was by order of a higher power, and inquired for Monsieur Larmes; who, pale and fal- tering, answered to that name. Nicholas trembled, and was scarcely able to support himself on his feet. You had a remarkable conversation this morning with M. do Ga. try, commenced the officer. The book-keeper bowed, but could not utter his assent. You are in possession of a writing which he gave you to copy, are you not ? The book-keeper was astonished at the omniscience of the police, and looked upon the officer with staring eyes and open mouth. Give me an answer, if you please, continued the latter more earnestly. The book-keeper bowed again. Answer, sir; I ask in the name of the king; and must beg you to deliver to me without delay the writing you are in possession of. The book-keeper tottered to a side table, drew forth a pnper from his, and handed it to the interrogator with a trembling hand. You will now be so kind as to accompany me, Monsieur Larmes; a carriage awaits you at the door. Whither ? cried Nicholas in despair. lie is innocent! Take me also! I am acquainted with the whole, and will reveal all ! The officer regarded the youth with surprise, and said, I have in- deed no order to conduct any other individual to the Intendant of Police, yet I will satisfy your wish. You, Monsieur Larmes, seem to be dis- turbed; compose yourself. Permit the young man to remain here, said Monsieur Larmes, if you have no express order to take him with you. He will be of no avail in the case. I will speak the truth without him. It is his at- tachment to me that leads him to make this rash request. I am already aware who is my accuser, and why I am carried off. It is M. de Ga. try, my principal. I follow you. I have nothing to do, replied the officer, with your affair with M. de Gatry. You will no doubt have the honour of seeing him He b is arrested at this very moment. Yet I must beg you, young man, to accompany me too. M. do Gatry arrested ! repeated the book.keeper, in delighted amazement. Did you not hear 1 cried Nicholas, joyfully. Do Gatry is ar l4S~ Who Governs, then? [August, restedyou are safe. Now I perceive, I understand, I see it allall, all! Come! come! Oh ! cried the happy youth, raising his hands toward heaven Oh, thou incomparable, precious, heavenly He had almost said Pauline, but checking himself, substituted jus- tice. They took their hats, followed the officer, entered the carriage and drove off. The Minister of Marine was with the Minister of Police. The book-keeper revealed what he knew. M. de Gatry betrayed his guilty conscience by the very insolence of his denial. But when his handwriting was produced, and the book-keeper confronted with him, he lost all presence of mind, and only implored forbearance toward his family. Monsieur Larmes and Nicholas were promptly sent back on the slime evening. Nicholas went stealthily to the apartment of Pauline, which he saw lighted, and pressed to his heart his beautiful sister, who stood before him in a splendid ball dress, on the point of going out. Ga the same evening Pauline also, in the midst of the dance, pressed the hand of the happy prince with gentle gratitude, and whispered, You have accomplished a heavenly deed ! On the same evening, too, the prince withdrew early from the ball, cast himself at the feet of the Marchioness de Pompadour, and cried, I must adore you, you are more than angel ! And on the same evening, too, Louis XV. confess- ed in the arms of his mistress, that he had never before been more sweetly rewarded than now, on account of that silly and trifling affair. 7. THE ADVANcEMENT. On the following morning the imprisonment of De Gatry was the town talk of all Paris. The Treasur~i and the books of the Navy de- partment were inspected. They discovered greater losses than they had anticipated. One examination grew out of another, one trial was followed by another, and arrest succeeded arrest. Meanwhile De Gatry had recovered himself, and renewed his protestations of innocence. It became a tedious prosecution, the end of which old Monsieur Larmes never lived to witness, for the terror and agitation of that unhappy day had deeply shaken his constitution. Nicholas was inconsolable at the loss of his paternal friend. He was indeed the heir to a moderate for- tune, but for that he cared little, lie would gladly have become a beggar, could that sacrifice have recalled his kind father from the realms of the departed. The question with him now was, what he should do; for he could not possibly live respectably on his little inheritance alone. Ah, 1840.] Who Governs, then? 141 said Pauline, will you not become book-keeper in the Navy depart- rnent, in the place of Monsieur Larmes ? Heavens, lady! What are you dreaming of! How shall I raise my aspirations so high? Book-keeper in the Navy department! It is true I have often executed entirely alone the business of Monsieur Larmes, und~r his superintendence, especially when he was suffering from his rheumatism in the winter, and he used only to affix his signa- ture. But what are you thinking of, lady ! Book-keeper in the Navy department! Monsieur Larmes has already three times in vain re- commended me for a vacant clerkship. NoI do not aspire so high. Oh, your beautiful modesty, how I admire it in you ! said Pauline, looking upon the young man with silent pleasure. You are perhaps not disposed to grant that I stand so high in rank as your book-keeper of the Navy ? Lady, you jest ! Well, but yet your thoughts aspire to me No, no, your heavenly kindness stoops down to me, beautiful Pauline ! A few days afterwards, in a splendid company, when Mademoiselle de Pons had an opportunity of speaking unnoticed to the Prince de Soubise, she said to him, Do you know that grief and terror have killed the old book-keeper Larmesso that thus, after all, he has fallen a sacrifice to the villainy of M. de Gatry I Not a word of it, charming Pauline. Will you not consummate your excellent deed? You have the power to appease the spirit of the old man, by taking under your pro. tection his son, who now stands without a friend, and quite lost. I mean his adopted son, Nicholas Rosier; he is the same young mnn who begged to go to prison and to death, in the place of Monsieur Larmes. I recollect. Well, this Rosier was the book-keeper in fact, and old Larmes only added his own name to his acts. Fulfil the wish of a dying man, who left the world with grief for the lot of his son. You told me once yourself, that the old man ought to be handsomely rewarded for the mortification he had suffered. How will you have him rewarded ?he no longer lives. Grant your protection to his adopted son; heir to his fathers integrity, he ought to be installed into the vacant place in the Navy occupied by the former. But he stands alone; no mouth is opened for him. What! no mouth opened for him, when pity and kindness are ut- tered by such beautiful lips ! answered the prince. How happy should I be, if those lips would speak but once a single word so ten. 142 Who Governs, then? [August, deny to me! Believe me, that I more deserve your pity than the book.keepers son. Well, most gracious lord, first become in reality unhappy, and then I shall not be wanting in pity for you, as you are never wanting in a jest for me. Oh ! cried the prince, stay, I beseech you. A hundred super. fluous eyes are now upon us. How readily would I confess to you upon my knees how much I suffer! But I will take you at your word. What is the young mans name Pauline repeated the name of Nicholas Rosier. The prince wrote it down. Precisely at the most favorable moment he recollected it, when ho afterwards was sitting in confidential conversation with the Marchioness de Pompadour. The marchioness herself began to talk about the pro. secution of M. de Gatry, and then she spoke with compassion of the old Monsieur Larmes, who had been brought, by the villainy of his principah near to imprisonment, and even to death. Near ! answered the prince. Nay, say rather unto death, most gracious lady. Fright and grief have killed the feeble old man. He stands now in the presence of God, and, amidst the angels there, proclaims gratefully the name of that angel of earth who rescued him from ruin. The marchioness was terrified and excited. The prince perceived it, and attuned his sentiments to a mournful key, by dwelling on the unhappy lot of so many noble-hearted men. His sufferings are at an end ! continued the prince, with a tear actually trembling in his eye. Never can he be requited or rewarded. Madame de Pompadour beheld the tear. The sight still further softened her feelings. But has he left no family ? she inquired. I know the king is good. The prince spoke of the vacant situation of book-keeper, and of the distinguished skill of his adopted son, Nicholas Rosier, and almost with enthusiasm of the inflexible integrity of the latler. He then con- tinued And the upright man must be in want, because he is without protection. He is heir only to the virtue and the poverty of his foster- father. Madame do Pompadour, deeply touched, took the hand of the prince with both of hers, and said, Prince, I have always known you as an experienced and pleasing man of the world, but never till now as a benevolent and reeling man. Be not ashamed of your moistened eye before me; such a tear does honor to a man. Receive this kiss for it. Rosier must be installed in his fathers place. When the marchioness opened the subject to the king, he said: 1840.] Who (Joverns, then? 143 The Minister of Marine has in fact brought me in a portefeuille of appointments, which he wishes me to sign. Look if the young man you speak of is amongst them. The marchioness did so, and found the name of Meuron attached to the appointment for the book-keepership in the Navy department. Well, then, let us have done with the affair. The minister must know him. He understands that better than we do. Let us not inter. fere in the matter. Sire, answered the marchioness, the interference of your Ma. jesty alone can consummate the noble work which you began, and which still fills Paris with joy. Your Majesty has unmasked the haughty criminal, and saved the innocent. You were the last thought of the dying man, for it was you had rescued him. He bears your name with gratitude to heaven.~~ The king laughed out. Have I not always suspected that you entertained a correspondence with the celestial world? How could you otherwise know what the soul of the book.keeper has carried with it to that abode? My name there! That is something Worth while. Then I am certainly under an obligation, for mere politeness sake, to send the name of his adopted son into the bureau of the Navy department. He erased the name of Meuron, and substituted that of Nicholas Rosier. Oh, how wicked you are, sire, and yet how good ! exclaimed the mistress of the monarch, as she kissed the hand which had written the name. 8. THE BLOW. - Nicholas was utterly lost in astonishment when he received the royal appointment. He hastened immediately to pay his grateful re- spects to his minister, and the rest of the superior officers of the de. partment. I took great pleasure in proposing you to the king, said the minis- ter, for I wished to behold the memory of Monsieur Larmes honoured in you. My merit in your appointment is very slight, said the chancellor of the department; yet I confess I had some struggle to make in your behalf. But the excellent services which you performed in Mon. sieur Larmes name were well known to me. As an honest man, I could not recommend to the minister any other than you., Thus did Nicholas learn, in his visits, that all the rest of the higher officials, like these two, had in the most generous manner, without his 144 Who Governs, then? [August, knowledge, been using their influence in his behalf. But when he re. lated it all to Mademoiselle de Pons, she laughed and said, You are a fool, Colas. The principal person you have forgot. Ask to.morrow for an audience of the Prince de Soubise, and kiss his hand. Do not forget it. Neither is the Prince de Soubise the principal person, replied Colas; but my modest, beautiful sister, whose hand I a thousandfold prefer to kiss. Nicholas was nevertheless prudent enough the follow- ing morning to kiss that of the prince also; and the latter, who found Nicholas an agreeable young man, was prudent enough to recommend to him to address his homage of gratitude to Madame de Pompadour. The book-keeper of the Navy obeyed, and the mistress was not insen- sible to the homage that she felt conscious of having deserved. The benefit she had conferred was the more endeared to her when she found that it had been not only in behalf of a grateful, but also a strikingly handsome young man. Monsieur Rosier, who was no novice in the business of his oflice, soon secured to himself the friendship of his superiors, and of the minister himself,not so much, however, from regard to his business talents, as from their ignorance of the influence by which he had succeeded in obtaining a place for which each of them had recom- mended one of his own favourites. They suspected that he must have powerful friends at court. Every one, therefore, treated him with the greatest attention. Nicholas, well pleased with his luck, and now acquainted with the secret channel through which chance had so miraculously opened to him the favor of the king, Louis XV., enjoyed the bounty of his good fortune with all becoming modesty. As he had been before too modest to aspire to the station which he had now obtained, so he had now no ambition to pretend to a higher one. This was not with him so much the effect of an extraordinary wisdom and virtue, as of a certain con- tented easiness of temper, mingled with some lightness of character. lie was invited into every society to which any not having the privi- lege of nobility could have access, and many a beautiful Parisienne cast over him her nets of fascination, which he, however, with his cool temperament broke through like cobwebs. For even for the enchant- ingly beautiful Pauline he felt nothing more than a devoted tenderness; and the intimate relation between him and her was more the effect of habit than of love. Paulines feelings were warmer and deeper. She loved with pas- sionate ardor. Yet, dissatisfied as she might often be with his cold respect, she could at times, in calmer moments, be grateful to him in her heart for his brotherly deportment. She was nevertheless per. 1840.] Who Governs, ghen? 145 fectly satisfied that she was loved by him with the passion that was due to her charms. Nicholas had no secrets from her of all his female acquaintances, nor of the efforts of many a beauty to ensnare him. How could he better prove himself her devoted lover? Yet she found fault with him that he began to give more time to his amusements, and less to her. I almost regret, she said poutingly to him, having raised you to the post of book.keeper of the Navy. I should have done better if I had kept you to copying my music. You would then have re. mained at home, and I should have been able to see you whenever I pleased. He promised reform, and he kept his word; but indeed in a way that was little in accordance with his own will. Entering one evening with some of his friends into Droucts 0-ar. dens, where there were an illumination and a ball, and where all the gay world, and even many of high rank, were wont to resort, he found among the dancers one of his acquaintances, the daughter of a book. binder who used to work for the Navy department. She was known by the name of la belle Juliette. He felt no other sentiment than indif. ference towards her, but she was dancing like a sylphide with a Mr. Browne, an Englishman, attached to the legation of the British ambas. sador in Paris, the Duke of Albemarle. Nicholas admired her, and felt flattered when she took notice of him as she passed, smiling kindly upon him, and now and then in the dance casting a glance towards him. Our Englishman, her partner, watched this play of eyes. He did not find it half so agreeable as it was to the kind.hearted Nicholas. On the termination of the dance, when he led her to rest on a sofa, and began a conversation with her, Nicholas also approached. She seemed to have expected him, and breaking off from the Englishman, rose and accompanied the young book.keeper, who had not even distinctly asked her, to the dance. Oar Englishman gloomily followed the pair with his eyes. It was evident that he was consumed with a fire within. I hope I have committed no robbery upon that gentleman, said Nicholas to the beautiful Juliette, in leading you to the dance. He certainly exhibits a countenance like a thunder-cloud. On the contrary, I thank you, Monsieur Rosier, for rescuing me from a bore, replied the girl ; It is enough to have been compelled to see him almost every day at home for a couple of months, where he loads my father with presents. I do not accept .any from him. I have an antipathy toward him like a spider, and he steals after me like my shadow. For an hour and a half Nicholas could net relieve himself from his partner, who seemed to have undertaken a determined attack upon his VOL. VIII. NO. ~XXII..AUGIYST, 1e40. J 146 Who Governs, then? [August7 heart. He was glad when he was at last able to take refuge in the illuminated garden, which glittered like a fairy world with variegated lights. There, in one of the most elegant arbors, he called for a glass of punch, as he observed others drinking. He happened, as he took a seat at one of the tables, to find himself directly opposite to Juliettes unfortunate adorer; by his side sat one of his acquaintances, the Sec- retary De Bonnaye. They carried on an animated conversation on political affairs; and the company being composed both of French and English, they spoke especially of the subjects of the Duke of Albemarles mission to Paris. As in the cabinets of the nations, so here in the arbor they addressed mu- tual reproaches to each otherthe French to the English, on account of the claim of the latter to an immense tract of country between New-Eng- land and Acadia; the English to the French, because the latter were establishing forts on the Ohio for the purpose of disturbing the trade of the English with the natives. The gentl9rnen seemed all no less inspired with patriotism than with their punch and wine. Nicholas having joined the company as a stranger, teok no part in the conversation, but sat as an indifferent listener. Mr. Browne, his oppo- site neighbor, the gentleman with the thunder-cloud visage, became only the more loud and vehement when he perceived the book-keeper who had robbedhim of his sylphide. He now began to thunder the more violently against the arrogant pretensions of France; he appeared to fancy that in dealing his wrathful blows upon the whole French nation, they must necessarily fall also upon his detested rival. But they fell upon no one with less effect than on the unconscious Nicholas. He left it to his countrymen present to repel the arrogant rudeness of the Englishman; and this the more willingly, because he perceived that the altercation was conducted with greater warmth than over their punch and wine in a pleasure arbor was at all agreeable. The more quiet Nicholas remained, the more violently stormed the angry Mr. Browne. At every strong oath with which the English. man pointed his denunciations of the French policy, he fixed his eyes upon the unoffending Nicholas. One after another of the French gentlemen dropped off. They feared that the altercation was going too far, and especially that the spirit which animated Mr. Brownes politics was too much derived from that of his punch. The rest of his countrymen perceived it, and endeavored to quiet him. But this only inflamed him the more. It is true, he cried to the French, the cabinet of St. James, as you say yourselves, poorly understands its. own interest. That I must concede. To succeed in his diplomacy, the king ought to have sent, not the Duke of Albemarle, but one of the of London. And we have thousands of them who are much handsomer than the worn-out Pompadour. 1840] Who Governr, then? 147 When Nicholas heard the name of his benefactress thus insulted, he broke his silence, and said, though with the greatest politeness, to the gentleman of the thunder-cloud countenance, leaning a little over the table, and in an under tone, in order not to mortify the Englishman: Do not forget, sir, that you are standing here upon French ground. For answer, Mr. Browne aimed a violent blow at the book-keepers face, with the remark, What does this young coxcomb mean by stretching out his face toward me, and taking upon himself to give me his instructions before I ask for them l He had scarcely finished these words, addressed to the company, when Nicholas returned him a powerful blow. Mr. Browne sank be. neath it like an oak before the storm, sideward with his head upon his neighbor, who was in the act of raising to his lips a glass of hot punch. The glass was emptied full upon the thunder-cloud face, in such a man- ner that he could not but believe it to be his own precious blood with which it was dyed. The English sprang to their feetso too the French. Mr. Browne drew his swordNicholas his, to defend himself. Before the rest could interfere and pacify them, Nicholas had already received a thrust a little below the right arm, which only pierced the flesh, without vital injury. The whole occupied but a few seconds. Not less quickly disappeared most of the French from the arbor, not to be drawn into the quarrel, which became the more serious a matter as it involved a foreign legation. And no less quickly the Englishmen disappeared, to prevent their infuriated countryman, whom they carried with them, from proceeding to worse excesses. Monsieur de Bonnaye alone re- mained with the wounded Nicholas, conveyed him to a carriage, and carried him to a surgeon. The surgeon pronounced the wound slight, as it had pierced only the flesh. He dressed it, and Nicholas returned with his faithful attendant to his residence in the hotel of the Count d Oron. 9. WAR wir~ ENGLAND. Monsieur do Bonnaye, who had been one of the most vehement of the speakers on the side of France against England, continued in the carriage the outpouring of his anger against the insolence of the Eng. lish. Nicholas, who had little reason to be pleased with them, cor- dially chimed in with him. I wonder, said Monsieur de Bonnave, that our court defers so long the punishment of the impudent arrogance of the British cabinet. If it depended on me, war should be declared to.rnorrow ! This suggestion was indeed a balm to the wound of the book-keeper. 148 Who Governs, then ? [August His decision was taken. He grasped the hand of his friend, and con- fidently exclaimed, Leave it to me! Before a fortnight is over, the English shall be expelled from Paris, and war shall be declared ! Monsieur de Bonnaye smiled in silence, for he thought of the potency of punch. But Nicholas thought of the potency of Pauline. On the following day the wounded youth was compelled, by the order of his physician, to confine himself to his room and bed; his loss of blood had been considerable, and fever had ensued. He informed Mademoiselle de Pons, by a few lines, of his accident, before she should hear of it from rumor; for Nicholas did not doubt that court and city must be fhll of this afrairin which, however, he was mistaken. No- body talked of it, nobody knew of it. The English at the table were nei- ther acquainted with the French, nor the latter with each other, as they had only been blown together by the breath of chance. The whole occurrence could not be looked upon in any other light than as one of the common explosions of heroism and patriotism over the bottle. But not in that light was it looked upon by the devoted Pauline, when she read the note of her friend. She passed a long day of wretched anxiety for his life, which she deemed in danger. She ex- cused herself in the evening, by a pretended illness, from an engage- ment to accompany the Countess dOron abroad, and stole through a corridor in the inner court of the palace to the apartments of Monsieur Rosier. With a mingled blush of modesty and love, she approached the bed of the sick youth. The worthy old Marcus, Nicholass servant, an inheritance from the deceased Monsieur Larmes, prudently withdrew to serve as a sentinel. How do you do ? whispered Pauline anxiously to her friend, who stretched his hand towards her. What has happened? Who has wounded youand why? Has the physician not forbid your speak- ing? When did you fightand where? Do you feel weak? Who is your physician ? Matter enough to occupy ~a whole evening with answers. Nicholas related the whole occurrence, with all the circumstances, and not with- out due incense to the beauty of Pauline, in his remarks on la belle Julietle. With secret delight Mademoiselle de Pons recognised the fidelity of her lover. The fame of the charms of Juliette was not un- known to her, nor was she unaware of Nicholass indiffer6nce towards her, and that he never entered the bookbinders house, whatever might be the inducements to attract him there. She saw that the English- man had, from a groundless jealousy, persecuted our good Nicholas, insulted, and almost murdered him. The wretch ! she cried, he owes you the most signal reparation. 1840.1 Who Governs, then? 149 If he were a Frenchman, he would be sure of the Bastille. But he is attached to the legation of the Duke of Albemarle. We must reflect well upon the matter. There is nothing to reflect about, Pauline, said Nicholas. If I meet Mr. Browne, I run him through the heart; or rather, as soon as I recover, I challenge him to the Bois de Boulogne. Not as a man of honor, but like an assassin, he attacked me unawares. Do you want to make yourself more miserable ? cried Pauline, in an agony. If fortune should go against you, Oh Colas, do you think I could survive you? And if you kill him, should you not have to leave France and me for ever I-fe and I cannot live together here in Paris, exclaimed Nicholas. The best course is for us to expel the English. They say that our court is balancing between peace and war with England. The Car- dinal de Bernis is for peace, and so is the Prince de Soubisespeak with them. We must declare war against these overbearing English. If that is not done, I predict evil. We must dispose the Princes mind accordir~gly. His influence is powerful. Nicholas and Pauline were as quickly agreed upon the declaration of war with England, as the words were uttered. Both looked with pleasure to the gratification of their resentment. It was natural enough in a girl in love, in her anger at the blood of her lover which had been spilled, to wish to destroy the whole of England. As soon as Pauline, on the following day, could open her mind to the Prince de Soubise, it was done with all her peculiar female art. You know, my Prince, she said, the unfortunate affair of the book.keeper Rosier, who gratefully and nobly with his own blood has redeemed the obligation ho owes to you ! With his blood ! replied the prince, in astonishment. I know nothing of it ! Mademoiselle de Pons was obliged to relate it. In her narrative she said nothing of la belle Juliette, of whom, as a rival, no mention was to be made; nor anything of the blow in the face, which appeared a little too unpoetical where the book~keeper, Rosier, was to figure as a hero. But in a very skilful manner the prince was given to understand that the English had particularly insulted himself and the mistress of the king, by which they had aroused the faithful heart of Monsieur Rosier. how, the prince was left to infer from the words of Mr. Browne in relation to the Marchioness de Pompadour. When Soubise had heard the whole, he wanted to hear more; and especially what. ever offensive language had been used by the English against him. Mademoiselle de Pons assumed the part of bashfulness, as if she shrank from repeating the coarse words that had been indulged in. The more 150 Who Governs, then? [August, resolutely she refused to sper~k, the more uneasy became the prince, and the more atrocious, in a black series of possibilities, he pictured to himself in his imagination the insult he had sustained. SAnd you take part with such men, Prince ! continued the young lady. What will Paris think of you, if you are one of the most zeal- ous advocates for peace with a nation which makes a sport of ridicu- ling France before all the worldand even upon French ground of ex- posing t& contempt one of the most amiable of all the princes of France ! This affair made so deep an impression upon the excitable mind of the prince, that he even forgot those gallantries which, when free from observation, he never omitted toward the -young lady. But from whom have you all these details ? he asked. The whole city knows them, and talks about them, answered she, but last, doubtless, to you, my Prince. The reason is obvious. No one likes to annoy you with them. But pardon my imprudence; and if that does not find indulgence, pardon my jealousy for the unspotted purity of your name.~, The prince gratefully covered her hand with kisses. Heretofore he had indeed been against the war, because he opposed the Duc de Riche- lieu, who was in favor of it for the purpose of obtaining the command of the army. But he wished to inform himself more fully of the oc- currence in Drouets Garden. Fortunately he recollected, from the narrative of Pauline, Monsieur de Bonnaye. Him, as the most authen- tic witness, he sent for, and ordered him to relate the occurrence with unreserved openness. De Bonnaye obeyed.- The prince heard some further details, but nothing of that which immediately concerned him. self. He inquired about it. Monsieur de Bonnaye shrugged- his shoulders, pleaded ignorance, but from resentment against the English he left it to appear that the prince might have been attacked with even greater venom than the mistress. The prince called immediately upon the Duc de Richelieu. I have read, he said, your last memorial upon the demands of England. You have conquered me with your pen, as you will con- quer the English with your sword. I agree with you. The English embassy must be dismissed, and the declaration of war follow them. The Duc de Richelieu was joyfully astonished at this change of mind of his antagonist. He clasped him in his arms. A complete reconcil. iatioa was effected. Both then agreed on their further steps to change the minds of the Cardinal de Bernis, the whole court, and the king. The prince promised to secure the influence of Madame de Pompadour. This was no difficult task to him. The words of Mr. Browne, that the king of England might better have sent to Paris one of the 1840.] Who Governs, then? 151 of London, than the Duke of Albemarle, carried everything before them. But the addition, that we have thousands of them that are much handsomer than the worn-out Pompadour, called a dark flush to the cheek of the marchioness, and awakened a deadly hostility in her bosom. Nicholas was no less astonished when several influential gentlemen of the court were announced to him. They were sent by the mar- chioness to take the testimony of the book-keeper in relation to the occurrence in Drouets Garden. His depositions were taken down and subscribed by him. Three days after, the English embassy received their passports for their return across the Channel. War was declared against England. 10. THE 1ATENT OF NOBiLITY. Mademoiselle de Pons received the first intelligence of this important event from ~the lips of the prince himself. In the transport of her joy she could have thrown her arms around his neck. He perceived this rapture, and read in it nothing but the betrayal of a heart that was passionately beating for him; and as an experienced soldier in the camp of the god of love, he ventured to take advantage of this victory, favored as it was by solitude. He clasped the blooming form before him to his bosom, and snatched a first kiss from her lips. Pauline crimsoned, grew instantly serious, and repelled with maidenly indig. nation the impetuous boldness. He nevertheless considered himself as approaching his triumph, and left the proud beauty with a bosom yet more inflamed with love. She waited only the more impatiently for the evening, to surprise her friend with the agreeable intelligence of the war. Unfortunately the Count dOron had company from which she could not absent her- self. She sent Nicholas a line with this intelligence, and asked him to wait for her, though she might be detained late. Nicholas was already almost cured of his wound, and had within a few days left his bed. On jhe receipt of Paulines note, he had already learned the departure of the English embassy in a still more surprising manner. An employ~ of that legation had called upon him, and handed him a letter, of which the contents were as follows: Dear Sir,-.--.It is only at the moment of our departure for England that I learn your name as that of the gentleman whom I insulted so outrageously in Drouets Garden. I acted under the influence of wine. You gave me no provocation, and I spilled your blood. I do not wish [August, 152 Who Governs, then? to leave France without discharging the duty that remains to me. Permit me to believe that you have pardoned me, and to present you the enclosed certificates of the French East Indian Company, which are for a yearly income of ten thousand livres. I wish to take noth- ing with me out of this detested country but your forgiveness. S. T. BROWN.~~ Nicholas was spirited enough to return the certificates to the Eng- lishman, with the full assurance of his forgiveness. But the English- man would only retain the latter, and sent back the certificates. It was near midnight when Pauline stole through the corridor. Nicholas hastened to meet her. How much had they not to say to each other! He led her into his room, and showed her the letters. She was astonished, and touched at the generosity of the Englishman. Could we have foreseen this, she said, we would not havQ com- menced war against England. The gentleman who was the object of our hostility has made you rich. He acted perhaps just as passionately in his generosity as in his jealousy, and in both without reason. You are richer now than myself, Colas. Do you know the only thing you still want, to enable you to enter upon a brilliant career Nothing, said Nicholas, and clasped Pauline to his bosom. Have I not everything ? Are you sure of always keeping it ? Who can forbid it? Who can separate brother and sister? One thing, indeed, Pauline, I must still havea patent of nobility. Then we may.... He hesitated to say more, from fear of offending by the boldness of his wishes, which Pauline well understood from his silence. She leaned her cheek with blushing fondness to his, and whispered: You are right. The patent of nobility is necessary. We must demand it. In consequence of this resolution, the Prince de Soubise, as usual, received the necessary directions on the first occasion when he im- plored a smile at the feet of Pauline. For after the liberty which he had taken at their last interview she had assumed a very serious coun- tenance, and he feared in earnest having given her offence. Tell me at least, divine Pauline, that you do not hate me ! he cried. I have no cause to hate you, was her reply. How could I thus presume? You have been offended by my rashness, beautiful Pauline, he continued; but if I have ever had any place in your regard, how can you deprive me of your friendship for that trifling kiss? Why are you so beautiful? Accuse your own charms, and not their effects. You know it, you must know it, I adore you ! 1840.1 Wko Governs, then? 153 Permit me, most gracious sir, to take these flatteries, which you so undeservedly lavish upon me, at their true value. Your noble spirit led me, often against my own will, to admire you. Well, thenI frankly confess ityou have yourself awakened in me some suspicion of this noble spirit. I! In the name of heaven, Pauline, do you believe me ever guilty of deception with you ? I cannot say that, Prince; but well I may, that your offended pride was actively instrumental in sending hack those rude English~ men without bestowing a thought on that brave youth who spilled his blood for your insulted honor. I expected from your delicacy that you would distinguish him.-that you would, perhaps, speak for him at the throne of~e kingand that you would, perhaps, for his chivalrous deed, bestow upon him, at the hand of the king, that nobility he has so well deserved.... In the indulgence of your vengeance you have for- gotten him. The book-keeper Rosierdo you mean him ? I mean the man who, when your name was to be disgraced, and when every Frenchman present was dumb, alone had the courage to speak, and to defy the proud Englishmanthat man who is probably still suffering from the wound which he received for you, and for you alone. Oh, how unjustly and cruelly you condemn me~ cried the prince, who felt himself guilty. Do you know all? If you had asked me, you would have heard what steps 1 have already taken with the king. You would have learned that measures are already in progress, not merely for his elevation to nobility, but for bestowing on Monsieur Rosier the Cross of St. Louisthat the documents are already pre- pared. Mademoiselle de Pons, fairly overreached by the prince, in her joy. ful surprise approached him a step nearer. Then I have, indeed, done you injustice! It rests with me then to ask your forgiveness. The reconciliation was made as reconciliations of this kind usually are. Their hearts approached each other nearer than ever. Soubise departed more inflamed than he had come. But he did not forget that he had purchased the sweet delight of re- conciliation by an unavoidable falsehood. It had never entered his thoughts to patronize Rosier. And if a hundred Rosiers shed their blood for a prince, of what consequence is it? Such citizen canaille must be delighted with the honor of having an opportunity to break their necks and bones for a man of such illustrious birth. But to pur- chase the smile of a Paulineyes, for that, something extraordinary must be done. The prince had easy work with Madame de Pompadour to persuade J2 154 Who Governs, then? [August, her, that that handsome young man who had involved himself with such chivalrous spirit in a duel for her honour, was deserving of the title and rank of knighthood. It is of course understood that Rosiers merits were represented in a much more brilliant light than the simple reality. Of what consequence in such matters are a few sparkling phrases more or less? Behold, there soon appeared a patent of nobility, and the Cross of St. Louis! The meritorious and gallant book-keeper, with his chil- dren and his childrens children, becomes one of the proud knights of France. By the magic word of royalty, his birth was changed into a noble one, and his humble cradle to one of gold. Fresh.baked nobility is of little value, but a couple of gold pieces could give it the requisite antiquity in a quarter of an hour, and equal to the old~t. A heraldic magician, from the similarity of the names of Rosier and Rosni, soon established a direct relationship with the Duc de Sully, Baron de Rosni, the celebrated friend of Henry LV.; and the genealogical tree, whose roots were lost in the obscurity of the tenth century, put forth a rich bloom for the son of the sempstress. What more do you want ? said Pauline, laughing. Laughing, - he replied: Thank God, I have got the ancestors, to whom I am sorry that my pedigree will be of no use. But now I want only the children and childrens children that are expressly provided for in the patent, and who, after all, will derive the most advantage from the whole affair. Heraldry cannot help me there. 11. THE VEIL. All the world was astonished at the good fortune of the bookw keeper, who had risen from the obscurity of a poor copyist of Monsieur Larmes to the illustrious splendors of nobilityand well they might~ Not that a phenomenon of that kind had been rare or unheard ofoh, no,every day men entirely unknown were seen to rise from nothing to renown and influence; and, on the other hand, persons of distinc~ tion to vanish beneath the stroke of a minister s pen into the primitive nothingness. Then did men indeed sport1 like ephemera in the sun- shine, in the smiles of arbitrary royalty. Some soared on eagles pinions, and others were precipitated with singed wings to the ground. Then were those glorious times which have disappeared since nations have unfortunately begun to think, and of the charms of which we have a delightful representation only in the court of the Sultan on the Black Sea, and in the adored Sovereign of Morocco. Then were still those times, when fortunately patriotic merit was of no worth, but on 1840.] Wito Governs, t,~en? 155 the contrary true desert was only dangerouswhen the dullest brains, the hollowest hearts, could rise to fortune, if they but knew how to se- cure patronage by a graceful baseness, by an amiable faithlessness, by powerful connexions and such means. This it was, that awakened a natural astonishment at the giant strides of Monsieur de Rosier in the career of promotion; for neither patron nor patroness was to be seenhe was never found in the ante- chambers of the greathe was not even beheld among the crowd of adorers at the feet of any of the beauties of the court, for no one cast a thought upon that parentless and penniless Mademoiselle de Pons, who occupied only a subordinate position in the house of the Count dOron, who himself was possessed of no influence in the court. But it did not escape the inquisitive observation of the Cardinal, that the Prince de Soubise had particularly undertaken the patronage- of the Navy book-keeper. Although it was not easy to divine what could be the princes motive for this, since Monsieur de Rosier appeared to stand in no relation to the prince, yet the book-keeper must have some value in his estimation. The Cardinal, who was ever ready to avaii himself of anything that promised sooner or later to be of any advan- tage, cast a favorable eye upon the worthy Nicholas, and endeavored to attach him to himself. One evening Nicholas was summoned to the Cardinal. The latter received him with his peculiar politeness. Monsieur de Rosier, I have long been an admirer of your brilliant talents. You are destined by nature for a higher careerI am happy to be an instrument in the hands of fortune. Accept from me the appointment of Councillor of State. You will henceforth be engaged under me, as attached to my department. Nicholas was indeed delightfully surprised. He was not wanting in assurances of gratitude and unreserved devotion. But in his heart he thought of Pauline, and that she must be the author of this new ele- vation. By flO means, replied Pauline; such things make themselves. So long as you were nothing, with all your virtues every lackeys foot would have trampled you in the dust. You have now become some- thing, and the slaves reverentially make way for you. I should not be surprised if you at last come to be Minister, Count or Duke. You have the endowments of nature for anything as well as Cardinal de Ber. nis, who was formerly a poor starved poet, glad to be in the enjoy- ment of a pension of fifteen hundred livres. The best fruit of all these promotions for Nicholas, was the oppor- tunity now afforded him of a free intercourse with Pauline. The Count dOron invited the Councillor of State to his society. Pauline knew well how to manage that. The humble inmate who had before 166 Who Governs, then? [August, scarcely attracted a moments attention in his obscure rooms in the rear, rented now a whole wing of the same hotel, and became thus an immediate neighbor of Paulines more modest apartments. The Count dOron would have had no objection to see in him a suitor of Pauline; but Nicholas and Pauline took good care not yet to exhibit in public the relation that in private subsisted between them. Pauline dreaded the jealousy of the Prince de Soubise; who, had he known how formida- ble and fortunate a rival he had in Nicholas, would doubtless have annihilated him. And Nicholas, on the other hand, was satisfied with his secret happiness; to be an avowed suitor of Pauline could not have inereased it. His new sphere of duty brought him into new connexions and rela- tions. He soon learned that the art of diplomacy was not so difficult. All the necessary knowledge one might have without trouble for money from an experienced secretary. And to be an agreeable companion to play an artful intrigueto attune ones self to every bodys humor to arouse or stimulate the passions of others, but to exhibit none ones selfto listen every where, to see every thing, yet every where to be deaf and blindall that was soon to be learned. How mis- taken are they, thought Nicholas, who stand down there below, and look up to the gods of the earth! Every merry joerruquier has indeed as much a talent for being a diplomatist, as a pretty washerwoman has for being the favorite of a king, and mistress of a great empire ! But he only thought thus, and was already too good a diplomatist himself to tell tales out of sehool. With the same faithful industry as in the Navy department, he applied himself to the discharge of his new duties, even the most laborious and tedious; among which doubtless were to be reckoned the countless diplomatic dinners and visits. He was wanting at no dinner, at no party of pleasure. The grace of his person secured him the favor of the ladies. He was a perfect statesman. From the relation of the Prince de Soubise with the house of the Count dOron, the family of the latterand with his daughter, her friend and companion, Pauline was frequently drawn into the circles of the foreign ambassadors. Nicholas and Pauline saw each other always with increased pleasure. But no one perceived in these two refined diplomatic personages what they were to each ether in secret. At home, in the confidential bou- doir of Pauline, everything was talked over of what they had done, heard, and seen. And you, my charming Pauline, said Nicholas, as he pressed her beloved form to his bosom, you are still the queen of all the beauties that are there sparkling in the gayest splendors. But Nicholas, answered Pauline, did you observe yesterday the young Countess of Staremberg? None of all the ladies at the ball 1840.] Tire Currency and tire Two Parties. 157 equalled he.r in loveliness, and yet in truth she is not so remarkably handsome. It is true, said Nicholas, she almost attracted my attention though by your side. She attracted your attention ! replied Pauline, hastily; but did you examine closely her splendid veil? It is a true magic veil. The most perfect thing of the kind I ever saw. She excited the envy of all present. Paris contains nothing like it. Heavens, if I could have such a veil ! Nicholas smiled and said, I hope it is not the only one in the world. I will ask the Austrian Ambassador where the young countess has ob. tamed that veil, and for what price. You must have one like it. Ah, my dear Colas, sighed Pauline, you little understand the value of this veil. As we were standing about the young countess, admiring it, she informed us that it was a present from the Empress. Queen! There are only three such veils in the world. The Empress Wears the second; the third is probably not destined for me. Who knows ? said Nicholas. That remains to be seen. Are we not omnipotent ? Colas ! cried Pauline, delighted, and flung her arms rapturously round his neck. Colas, if that were possible! Colas, in this veil Pau. line will cheerfully become Madame de Rosier! This was indeed a tempting prize. Nicholas had long ceased to be the brother. How could he have long remained uninflamed in so dan- gerous a vicinity to so beautiful a sister? He loved. It was his high. est aspiration to conduct Pauline to the altar. Pauline was willing enough to bestow her heart upon him, but not her hand. The blood of nobility does not easily forget itself; even in a girl in love with a low. born lover.* THE CURRENCY AND THE TWO PARTIES. THE great dispute between the two political parties of the country is concerning the power and policy of the General Government in rela. tion to the currency. The Whigs contend that Congress possesses, by the Constitution, absolute control over our paper, as well as specie circulation, and that the best mode of exercising that auth6rity, is by the creation of a national bank. The Democrats maintain that no department of the General Government is entrusted by the Constitu. tion with the regulation of the currency, Congress having merely the right to coin money and regulate the value thereof; and of foreign coins. That the General Government has no right to create a national * Concluded in the next number.

The Currency and the Two Parties 157-174

1840.] Tire Currency and tire Two Parties. 157 equalled he.r in loveliness, and yet in truth she is not so remarkably handsome. It is true, said Nicholas, she almost attracted my attention though by your side. She attracted your attention ! replied Pauline, hastily; but did you examine closely her splendid veil? It is a true magic veil. The most perfect thing of the kind I ever saw. She excited the envy of all present. Paris contains nothing like it. Heavens, if I could have such a veil ! Nicholas smiled and said, I hope it is not the only one in the world. I will ask the Austrian Ambassador where the young countess has ob. tamed that veil, and for what price. You must have one like it. Ah, my dear Colas, sighed Pauline, you little understand the value of this veil. As we were standing about the young countess, admiring it, she informed us that it was a present from the Empress. Queen! There are only three such veils in the world. The Empress Wears the second; the third is probably not destined for me. Who knows ? said Nicholas. That remains to be seen. Are we not omnipotent ? Colas ! cried Pauline, delighted, and flung her arms rapturously round his neck. Colas, if that were possible! Colas, in this veil Pau. line will cheerfully become Madame de Rosier! This was indeed a tempting prize. Nicholas had long ceased to be the brother. How could he have long remained uninflamed in so dan- gerous a vicinity to so beautiful a sister? He loved. It was his high. est aspiration to conduct Pauline to the altar. Pauline was willing enough to bestow her heart upon him, but not her hand. The blood of nobility does not easily forget itself; even in a girl in love with a low. born lover.* THE CURRENCY AND THE TWO PARTIES. THE great dispute between the two political parties of the country is concerning the power and policy of the General Government in rela. tion to the currency. The Whigs contend that Congress possesses, by the Constitution, absolute control over our paper, as well as specie circulation, and that the best mode of exercising that auth6rity, is by the creation of a national bank. The Democrats maintain that no department of the General Government is entrusted by the Constitu. tion with the regulation of the currency, Congress having merely the right to coin money and regulate the value thereof; and of foreign coins. That the General Government has no right to create a national * Concluded in the next number. 158 The Currency and dtc Two Parlier. [August, bank, not even by implication, it being neither necessary nor proper for the management of the public revenue, or the regulation of coin- merce: and that it would not be a salutary or effective regulator of the currency. As the controversy has progressed, the Whigs have been compelled, by financial and commercial developments, and by the demonstration of public opinion, to shift their position, and have fallen into some con- fusion. Mr. Webster, for instance, in his famous speech against the Sub-Treasury, in the session of 389, evidently leans to the new pro- ject, the experiment, the untried expedient, or whatever we may call it, of a bank of mere issue; an idea that finds favor with some eminent bankers in England. He says: For the present I only express my belief, that with the experience before us, and with the light which recent discussion, both in Europe and America, holds out, a national bank might be established with more regard to its function of regulating the currency, than to its function of discount. Mr. Webster is the ablest expositor of finance amongst the Whig statesmen. But General Harrison is now the available and re~ponsi- ble man. In his letter to Sherrod Williams, he expressly disclaims a national bank as an instrument of commerce, and is prepared to ap. prove one only when it shall be pronounced necessary to the fiscal af- fairs of governmentthough he has also informed us that he is willing to sign anything that may be passed by the two houses of Congress. General Harrison, after filling a variety of offices in the course of a pub- lic life of more than forty years, and with the light of recent discussion in Europe and America, is not yet prepared with an opinion on a na- tional bank! The Whig party, however, is too fully committed in fa- vor of one, to be affected by the equivocal disclaimer of their new leader,and if he could be elected, a national bank they would have. Mr. Clay, meanwhile, after proposing one of fifty millions capital, comes down upon us with a proposition to distribute the proceeds of the land sales, to the amount of sixty or seventy millions of dollars, amongst the States, and as the greater part of this money has already been expended, the General Government must borrow to distribute. The United States public bonds, thus created, will furnish, as our public debt did before, the material for the new national bank stock. And Mr. Clays friend, Mr. Pope, acting under the light of recent discus. sion no doubt, proposes in the House of Representatives a bank of seventy millions. But there are still several unsettled questions concerning this pro. ject, on which the Whigs themselves have not agreed, and to which we would like to secure a little attention. We want, they tell us, a regulator of the currency. Well, is the currency to be contracted or expanded? A bank of fifty or seventy millions capital would, if it 1840.] Tite Currency and the Two Parties. 159 transacted any business, be rather expansive to the currency, we should imagine. But is it not the complaint, that our banking system is already too expansive ~ Was not this excessive expansion predicted as the consequence of letting the late United States Bank go out-to be followed by the creation of so many State institutions? And have not the subsequent speculations and explosions been but the fulfilment of Whig prophetic sagacity ? And is it proposed at one single act of legislation to add twenty-five per cent: to the existing banking capital and circulation of the country, without inflation and speculation! Well, perhaps the new bank is to contract the circulation. Heaven defend us! Reduce the prices of labor and property! Bring down the free- men of America to the condition of the serfs of Europeto the condi- tion of Germany and Cuba! That would be as wicked as the blas- phemies of Senators Walker and Buchanan. From this dilemma, however, Mr. Webster must be invoked to deli- ver his party. Let us hear him again in his great anti-sub-treasury speech: But the immediate question now is, whether taking the whole circulation together, both metallic and paper, there was an excess existing in May, or is an excess now existingl Is one hundred and thirty millions an excessive or undue amount of circulation for the United States i Seeing that one part of this circula- tion is coin, and the other part paper resting on coin, and intended to be convertible, is the whole mass more than may be fairly judged necessary to represent the pro- perty, the transactions, and the business of the country i Or, in order to sustain such an amount of circulation, and to keep that part of it which is composed of paper in a safe state, should we be obliged to attempt to draw to ourselves more than our just proportion of that metallic money, which is in the use of all the com- mercial nations ~ These questions appear to me to be but different modes of stating the same inquiry. Upon this subject we may, perhaps, form one general idea, by comparing our- selves with others. Various things, no doubt, exist, in different places and coun- tries, to modify, either by enlarging or diminishing, the demand for money, or currency, in the transactions of business; still the amount of trade and commerce may furnish a general element of comparison, between different states or nntions. The aggregate of American imports and exports in 1836 was three hundred & nd eighteen millions; that of England, reckoning the pound sterling at $4 80, again, was four hundred and eighty millions, as near as I can ascertain; the cur- rency of England being, as already stated, sixty millions sterling, or two hundred and eighty-eight millions of dollars. If we work out a result from these propor- tions, the currency of the United States it will be found, should be one hundred and ninety millions, in order to be equal to that of England; but according to the esti~ mates of the Treasury, it did not even in that year exceed one hundred and eighty millions. Our population is about equal to that of England and Walea. The amount of our mercantile tonnage, perhaps, one fifth less. But the we are to consider that our country is vastly Wider and our faeilities of internal exchange, by means of bills of exchange, greatly less. Indeed there are branches of our intercourse, in which remittances cannot be well made, except in currency. Take one example The agricultural products of Kentucky are sold to the south; her purchases of 160 The Currency and tite Two Parties. [August, commodities made at the north. There can be, therefore, very little of direct ex- change between her and the places of purchase and sale. The trade goes round in a circle. Therefore, while the Bank of the United States existed, payments were made to a vast amount in the north and east by citizens of Kentucky, and of the States similarly situated, not in bills of exchange, but in the notes of the bank. These considerations augment the demand for currency. More than all, the country is new, sir; almost the entire amount of our capital active; and the whole amount, of property in the aggregate rapidly increasing. In the last three years thirty-seven millions of acres of land have been separated from the wilderness, purchased, paid for, and become subject to private individual ownership, to trans- fer and tale, and all other dispositions to which other real estate is subject. It has thus become property to be bought and sold for money; whereas, while in the hands of government, it called for no expenditure, formed the basis of no trans- actions, and created no demand for currency. Within that short period our people have bought from government a territory as large as the whole of Eng- land and Wales, and taken together far more fertile by nature. This seems incredible, yet the returns show it. Suppose all this to have been bought at the minimum price of a dollar and a quarter per acre; and s ppose the value to be increased in the common ratio in which we know the value of land is increased by such purchase, and by the preliminary steps and beginnings of cultivation; an immense augmentation, it will readily be perceived, is made even in so short a time, of the aggregate of property, in nominal price, and to a great extent, in real value also. On the whole, sir, I confess I know no standard by which I can decide that onr circulation is at present in excess. I do not believe it is so. Nor was there, as I think, any depreciation in the value of money, up to the moment of the sus- pension of specie payments by the banks, comparing our currency with the cur- rency of other nations. An American paper dollar would buy a silver dollar in England, deducting only the charge of transporting a dollar across the ocean, be- cause it commanded a silver dollar here. if, then, it be not the design of the Whigs, in the re-establishment of a United States Bank, to curtnilithe existing amount of circulation, it must be because, at the moment of greatest expansion, we have not had too much. The doctrine of Mr. Webster must be received And then what becomes of the standing accusation against General Jackson and the Democratic party for inflating the currency? For Mr. Webster tells us, that the circulation was not too great even in ~1ay, 1837, when the system of pet bank deposite exploded with the suspension of all the banks. After all the prophecies at the bank veto, the removal of the deposites, and the panic session of the evils to come fiom a redundant paper circulation consequent on those measures; after all the clamorous exultation at the Extra Session on the alleged fulfilment of those prophecies, we have the deliberate acknowledg- rnent, in three short months thereafter, of the chief of the prophets him- self, that there was no evidence of any such excess. Mr. Webster himself, feeling some natural confusion at the attitude he was obliged to assume to assail the sub-treasury, thought it necessary to insert a saving clause in his speech to reconcile his Qpinions in 1838 with his 1840.] The Currency and tke Two Parties. 161 predictions in 1832 and 1833; and it is amusing to perceive in this very effort, a specific exculpation of General Jackson and the Demo. cratic party from the most serious charges heretofore made against them. Listen to Mr. Webster: We have heard much, sir, in the course of this debate, of excess in the issue of bank notes for circulation. I have no doubt, sir, there was a very improper ex- pansion some years ago. When President Jackson, in 1832, had negatived the bill for continuing the bank of the United States, (which act I esteem as the true original source of all the disorders of the currency,) a vast nddition was imnie- diately made to the number of State banks. In 1833, the the public deposites were actually removed from the Bank of the United States, and placed in selected State banks. And for the purpose of showing how much better the public would be accommodated without than with a Bank of the United States, these banks were not only encouraged but admonished, to be free and liberal in loans and discounts, made on the strength of the publie moneys, to merchants and other individuals. * * * * * * But although I think, sir, that the acts of government created this expansion, yet I am certainly of opinion that there was very undue expansion created. A contraction, however, had begun; and I am of opinion that had it not been for the specie order of July, 1836, and for the manner in which the deposite law was exe- cuted, the banks would have gone through the crisis without suspension. This is ray full and firm belief. Here, then, the hank veto and removal of the deposites are oxplicitly acquitted of producing the suspensionthat catastrophe is imputed to something elseand as we have seen from a former quotation, they are also acquitted of causing an inflated currency at least after the lapse of five years, during all which time their effects were constantly denounced by the Whig party. For, in May, 1837, when the currency had attained its greatest expansion, it had not arrived at an amount as great as was indicated either by the magnitude of our trade or the ex- perience of England, the standard of comparison adopted by our great Whig statesman. But Mr. Webster had no doubt there was a very improper expan- sion some years ago, and refers at once to the bank vetd, removal of the deposites, and the Secretarys circular to the deposite banks to ex- tend their discounts, as the causes of that improper expansion. Let us examine this confident declaration one moment. The bank charter was vetoed in 1832, the deposites were removed in 1833, and the circular of the Secretary appeared September 26th, in the same year. In those years then, and the following one, the improper oxpansion must have occurred. Now, these same years were also distinguished by an extraordinary influx of gold and silver into the United States; and this, be it remembered, without the action of the gold bill, which passed July, 1834. The surplus of our imports over our exportsof the precious metals, in those very years, was about twenty millions of dollars. We speak from memory, but cannot be far wrong. Now, K 162 Tke Currency arid Ike Two Parties. [August, this was precisely the state of our foreign exchanges, when all banks expand, and safely expand. Wherever the exchanges are in our fa- vor, and so greatly so as to cause heavy importations of the precious metals, we are assured according to the ablest authorities, and accord- ing to Mr. Webster too, that our circulation requires expansion to establish an equilibrium with that of the surrounding commercial world. Under such circumstances trade increases, and enterprise, and labor, and credit, all feel the stimulus. Banks, therefore, without the action of government, sympathize with the prevalent spirit of the time, and increase their business. If not more than one half of this impor- tation of specie went into the banks, which is the usual proportion they receive, it would furnish a basis for a~n increased circulation of thirty millions, according to the proportion of three dollars of paper to one of specie. At all events we know that the expansion could not have been excessive or improper at that time, or it would have arrested the fur- ther importation of gold and silver; which was not the casefor they continued to pour into the country for a considerable period (more than a year) afterward- Thus does the charge against the bank veto and removal of the deposites, & c., of producing an improper expansion, fall to the ground. And it is already shown, from the admissions of the adversary, that those much reviled measures are also innocent of the excessive circulation and of the suspension afterward. The suspension is, with little reason, ascribed to the specie order and the mode of executing the deposite law. The specie circular, issued in July, 1836, required the receivers at the land offices to take nothing but specie for public lands. From the time it appeared until the suspen- sion, the receipts at the land offices for public lands amounted to per- haps five millions. Of this sum perhaps three millions came out of the banks, chiefly of the westand this trifling demand for silver out of what the country then possessed, certainly not less than sixty millions, is gravely declared to be one of the principal causes of a suspension of nine hundred banks with a capital of three hundred millions, and with perhaps forty millions of specie in their vaults! With regard to the other cause assigned for that catastrophe, the mode of executing the deposite law, it is remarkable that it was con- tended by some of the friends of the Administration, Mr. Benton par~ ticularly, that the act itself the policy, would have that effect. It became therefore the duty of those who advocated that lawand the Whigs certainly had far more than an equal share of the responsi- bilityto provide a mode of executing it without danger. It was cer- tainly most bungling legislation to enact a great law, with such im- mense discretion in the hands of a single, subordinate executive officer, ~s to enable him to overthrow the currency of the country. We, however, never agreed with Senator King in his exposition 1840.] The Currency and the Two Parties. 163 In the first place, the mode of distribution affected materially only the deposite banks,ninety.six in number out of nine hundred; and in the second place, the very change of deposite from one deposite bank to another, or to such as were selected by the States, would strengthen on the one hand as many as it would weaken en the other; and in the third place, the money was more equally and rapidly circulated than before. The abrupt transfer of a considerable amount from the sea- port to the interior, was of course in its effect but slight and transient, when we consider that the sections which received were debtors to the sections that held the deposites, and that the money would naturally and quickly return to them. But the actual cause of the suspension was much greater than either of the ones assigned, and was adequate to the effect. In 1836, the total imports of the United States exceeded the exports about sixty millions, and this balance was almost entirely owing to England. The joint stock banking system had been for several years before, and particularly the last year, rapidly on the increase in that country, and had produced a corresponding abundance of paper money and credit. And this was one of the causes of the heavy excess of our importations of the precious metals over our exports for several years before, as well as the heavy debt we had finally contracted there by enormous purchases that year. The continental exchanges being against her, the Bank of England began to experience a reduction of her bullion, and proceeded at once to act against American credit, so as to cause a reflux of the precious metals from this country. It was found that the principal part of our debt was owing to a very few houses, chiefly in Liverpool, and that these houses were transacting a credit business with us of five times the amount of their capital. The magnitude of their operations, the small number immediately concerned on that side of the water, and the importance of the object the bank had in view, induced her to forward a confidential order to her agent in Liverpool to decline any more of their paper. This order, however, was not kept secret, and its publicity pros- trated at once the credit of the American Houses, as they were called. A debt of sixty millions in mercantile paper was thus render- ed payable at maturity, and cut off from renewal and arrangement as before. This order issued from the Bank of England in August, 1836, almost contemporaneously with the specie circular; and in nine months afterward, as the bills of American merchants were maturing in Eng- land, our banks stopped payment, to avoid the drain. And whatever auxiliary effect the specie circular and deposite law might have had, the great sufficient cause of suspension was the sudden destruction of American credit in Liverpool and London by the Bank of England. Will it be said, that the heavy debt we bad contracted there was 164 TAe Currency and tI~e Two Parties. [August, owing to our redundant circulation? This is certainly true; but is it not also much more to be imputed to redundant credit in England, the low rate of interest, and above all, the enormous amount of surplus re- venue thrown into our treasury by the high tariff, and lent out to the importing merchants? At all events, the mode ofexecuting the deposite law, and the specie circular, are innocent. If the latter had not issued, banks would have continued to pour out their paper as before for spe- culation in public land, the currency would have become more redun- dant, the rates of exchange still higher against us, and the necessary - consequent explosion, of course, so much the more disastrous. Thus does the financial policy of the Democratic party, during the late administration, stand triumphantly vindicated by the confessions of its accusers, by an invulnerable array of facts, and the subsequent ex- perience of the country. Where two countries are so closely commercially connected as the United States and Great Britain, the currency of one will be affected in a similar nw.nner to that of the other by the same cause; and both might be greatly contracted by untoward events without being pre- viously excessive. The loss of her wheat crop must at any time pro- duce contraction of the circulation of England, and, so long as she is a creditor of ours, it will contract our circulation. And if our currency were all metallic, and however moderate in amount, the reduction might be great enough to cause destruction of confidence in moneyed affairs in the United States. But whether our currency has of late years been inflated or not, the facts show, that the increase has not been more than commensurate with the influx of the precious metals into this country from abroad, which began long before the passage of the gold bill, and which was not greater after the adoption of that law than before. The extraordinary progress of machinery for the last ten years; the reduction in the cost of manufacturing, and the conse. quent extension of the consumption of cotton throughout the world, and of its production in our southern and south-western States; the expan. sion of the credit system in England, all combined with the long contin- uance of peace amongst the principal commercial nations to account for the late extraordinary season of prosperity we have enjoyed. Our export of cotton alone has, within ten years, risen from twenty-seven millions to, and the price, be it remembered, Ilxed by the currency of Englandnot our own. This far exceeds any expansion of our currencyand supplies a sufficient index of the progress of our trade, to account for all the increase of the circulation we have wit- nessed. So much for the past. Let us now look a little at the present and future. The Whig party evidently conteriiplate, if they can now succeed to power, to expand the currency. This is impossible. Allow 1S40.I The Currency and the Two Parties. 165 them to create a National Bankthe first bank bill it issued would expel an equal amount from our present circulation, and leave us no more money than before. If they were to begin with a bank of seven- ty or an hundred millions capital, the only effect would be the loan of that much money to the merchants, and its prompt transmission abroad to pay our mercantile debt. This would, of course, tend to relieve that class, by converting a temporary into a permanent debt, on the suppo- sition that our bank capital is borrowed, as it must be. And it would be an assumption of the mercantile debt there by government, or by the bank, in return for which the bank would receive the promissory notes of the same men at home. But it may be said that, at all events, this would cause an accession of active capital, of money, to the coun- try, and a corresponding revival of business and rise of prices. Such would be the momentary effect, and the argument is specious and plau- sible. But we contend that the result would be the reverse; that the permanent effect would depress the value of property and labor, and impair speedily the prosperity of the country. The late Bank of the United States had a capital of thirty-five millions, of which seven millions were subscribed by government. The public deposites amount- ed to an average, for the last few years they were continued, of eight millions. And the bank was enabled to circulate, in consequence of the receivability of her paper for government dues, and her fiscal agency, about eight millions more than she could otherwise sustain. Thus the connexion of gqvernment with the bank conferred on her the command of twenty-three millions. This was under the control of the board of directors at Philadelphia, and was chiefly devoted to the import trade of the United States Now, was it politic then, or would it be so now, to extend any facilities by government to increase the imports of the countryto increase consumption, not productionto stimulate the love of display and of extravagance, not of economy and labor? As republicans, is such a policy conformable with the genius of our in- stitutions, which can only be sustained by~frugality and simplicity of manners? As a commercial people, is it profitable to provide not only for increased consumption, but for the encouragement of foreign indus. try rather than our own? But we shall probably be told that the new charter might provide against such a misapplication of banking capital. How can this be done? We have seen that, under the operation of the tariff, when the treasury overflowed with revenue, the deposite banks, which were not, r om their diffusion over the country and of the alliance with other inter. ests, so liable to promote the import trade as the Bank ofthe United States, did, nevertheless, so administer the public deposites, as to bring our im- ports, in 1836 alone, some sixty millions higher than our exports. And that so large an amount of the public money had gone into the hands 166 The G~rrency and the Two rarties. [August, of the import merchants as to cause, in Mr. Websters opinion, the sus- pension, by its withdrawal under the execution of the deposite law. If we consider more narrowly the banking system of the United States, the difficulty will appear still more striking and irremediable. There are now about four hundred and fifty millions of bank discounts or loans throughout the Union. Let us examine how they are applied. We have before us the Bank Commissioners report, of Ohio, and the report of the standing committee on the State Bank of Indiana, made to the legislatures of those States respectively, last winter. We select these two States as the most favorable specimens of the operation of the systemtheir banks having generally been as well managed, and as seldom censured, as any others. Besides, these States are in the inte. nor, are agricultural, and the habits and manners of the people com- paratively plain and frugal. The total amount of discounts in Ohio is something over fifteen mil- lions. More than half of the sum is held by 932 individuals and firms; the residue is divided amongst 8,778 individuals and firms. So that in a State containing about 220,000 voters, less than one thou- sand receive more than half of all the discounts, and less than ten thousand, the whole; so that the favors of banking are exclusively devoted to 1-22d part of the people. But we may be told the Ohio banks are owned by private persons, and a government bank would be more impartial in its management. The Bank of Indiana is a State institution, one half of the stock belonging to the State, which appoints a proportion of the directors. Well, the total of her discounts is about four millions, and they are confined exclusively to less than 5,000 persons, out of a population that gives about 110,000 votes exhibiting precisely the same proportion as Ohio. And of the dis- counts, about one half are confined likewise to the private stock- holders. The Ohio report does not designate the clas8 to whom thee loans are given, or the business to which they are applied. But, in Indiana, a more thorough examination was made, and it appears from that report, that the merchants receive ~more than all the other classes together. In Ohio we must assume that the same policy is presumed, and it is probable that the proportion of mercantile accommodation is still greater, for Indiana has no large commercial town within its borders, but makes its heavy purchases at Cincinnati and Louisville. Here are two remote agricultural States, whose system of bank credit is chiefly devoted to their import trade. For the merchants of those States are chiefly importers of goods from the east, and with the credit thus obtained at home, make heavy purchases, and contract heavy debts at the seaports, whose merchants have before effected the same operation in England. We are aware that in the planting States bank 1840.] The Currenc~i and t7~e Two Parties, 167 credit is extended more to the agricultural class, anif in the rni~nufac. turing States to manufacturers. But in the importing States the mer. chants receive still greater proportions than elsewhere. Taking the whole banking system of the United States together, it appears that the principal part of the entire discounts is devoted to that class of business which comprehends the fewest in number, and exercises an unwhole. some effect upon the community. For there can be no doubt that in any country where one of the branches of industry acquires an undue preponderance, or exceeds its proper proportion to the others, the effect is injurious to all. And it is equally well known that the mercantile business, without the undue favor of government, is one of the most at. tractive vocations of life. The apparent ease, profit, and consider. ation in society of that business, constantly attracts men from the more laborious classes, and accordingly we behold it more frequently overdone, and failures more prevalent than in any other. We have seen, even whore circumstances would indicate otherwise, how bank capital is engrossed by this class, who must, of course, ac. quire the control over such institutions. Would it now be profitable or politic to create a great additional banking capital to be applied in the same manner? To promote the accumulation of a foreign debt; to increase our subjection to the will or fortunes of a foreign, and some. times, a hostile nation; to weaken, by a temporary influx of capital, our motives to industry and to production; to stimulate our love of display, and swell the sum of our private expenditure on credit? Such has been, such is now the effect of our banking systemof that system which, under the more generic name of the credit system, has been so elaborately extolled by Mr. Webster and others, as a splendid contrivance, peculiar to free governments, for uniting capital and labor. The truth is, that this system has exerted, and now exerts, a morbid influence on the liberty and property of the country, and a depressing effect on the value of labor. it embodies a distinci class, and confers on that class the control over the money or active capital of the coun. try, and the control likewise over a large portion of its credit. This class abides chiefly in the cities, and conferring the patronage of the press, they control the press likewise. They likewise supply employ. nient to one of the learned professions, the law, which embodies so large a proportion of the active intellect nnd ambition of the country. The merchants also, from their number, locality, and constant inter. course with one another, are able to act in concert; and thus possess. ing the press to control opinion, and dispensing credit by millions, they readily form an alliance with the bar, t6 obtain the government of the country, the natural condition of success to be a division of power be. tween them,.the merchants to have the treasury united with their 168 The Ourte7zcy and the Two Parties. ~August, banksthe lawyer to have office and the political power Hence the hordes of bank officers and lawyers that attended the late Whig con- ventions in Ohio and Indiana The value of property and labor is constantly fluctuating, and on the average depressed, by the action of foreign debt and foreign luxury; for whatever misapplies the energy of a country from productive to unproductive employment, from accu- mulation to waste, by constantly diminishing the actual wealth, leaves less to pay for the rent or the purchase of property, and less for the employment and the wages of labor. And yet the least that the Whigs contend for now is, that if a national bank be not created, the government shall again surrender to local banks the use of the public deposites, receive their paper for all public dues, and renounce the re-establishment of the constitutional trea- sury. Let us examine, for a moment, the effect of such a policy, com- mercially and politically. The present circulation of the banks is one hundred and six millions, less than for several years. In 1836 it was one hundred and sixty millions. The average, one hundred and thirty-three millions. Sup- posing them to keep constantly on hand thirty-three millions of specie to sustain this circulation, they thus secure the use of one hundred mil- lions of dollars. Now, the right of supplying this currency and the profit belong to the people; yet it is given up to the stockholders of bankstransferred from the many to the few, with the exception of a very few instances where bonuses are paid, or where States own a por. tion of the stock. The privilege or profit of the constant use of an hundred millions of dollars is bestowed on banks of a capital of three hundred millions, whose stock, although nominally paid in gold and silver, is substantially and practically paid in the promissory notes of merchants, renewable continually. For of the total three hundred millions of bank capital in the United States, there are not forty mil- lions of gold and silver; the residue is in notes and bills, chiefly of the merchants. Mercantile credit, being thus endowed with such an im- mense privilege, attracts and absorbs the capital of all other classes. If a farmer or mechanic accumulate a thousand dollars of surplus money, he is induced to invest it in bank stock, rather than lend it to others in the same class or business,because, when it becomes bank stock it participates in the profits of circulation, and pays eight per cent. divi- dend, instead of six or seven on private loan. The only manner, then, in which the other classes can partake of the profits of the common circulation, is by throwing their surplus capital under the control of the mercantile class. The absolute power of this class over the banks, is proven by the facilities they possess as residents of cities, where banks are located,by the nature of their business, whose capital is active, and by the process of renewals, and of paying up one 1640.J The Currency and Ike Two Parties. 169 day to borrow the nextand finally, by the fact displayed in bank re. ports of their monopoly of the loans. A fanner cannot conveniently ride twenty miles every few days to renew his notes, to pay up and borrow again, or to sit as banks directors. To their monopoly of the currency, credit and capital of the country, it is now insisted by the Whigs that we should add the revenue and credit of the government, the public money to be deposited in the banks and lent at their dig. cretion, and their notes received for pu.blic dues to enlarge their circu- lation. The entire property and industry of the people would thus be rendered subordinate to a branch of business which, for numbers, wealth or utility, ought to be subordinate to either of the other great divisions, the farmers, mechanics or manufacturers. The currency to be allied to the most fluctuating branch of our businessthe capital of the country to be devoted to the most unprofitable. Such is the grand scheme of a great party for sustaining credit, confidence and com- mercethe value of property and wages of labor. But such a concentration of capital and credit in the mercantilo vocation, would not only oppress and pervert the general industry of the country, but it would sap its government and institutions. The politi. cal effect of committing the control of the public revenue to such hands has been shown by Mr. Calhoun, in his own wayleaving nothing to add. The use of the public money embodies a party which con. stantly contends for an increase of taxation, so as to supply them with additional means, and immediately the aid of other portions of the citizens is invoked in the national councils. The manufacturers, being the most closely connected with the merchants, are tempted with the ofli~r of a high tariff, if they will in turn support a system of extravagant disbursement for internal improvement. Let this system overspread just enough of territory in the most populous States to secure a majority of votes, and the league is complete. High taxes, an enormous reve- nue, to be first deposited for the use of the banks, and then expended on public works, to ext.nd their circulation, and to improve their stock. holders property, and the government becomes a vast money power, bribing two classes of the citizens, and a limited portion of the country, with the money of all; and a consolidated government is corrupt and oppressive in precise proportion to the extent of its territory and popu- lation. We have said that Senator Calhoun usually leaves nothing for others to add to his exposition of truth. This case, however, is an ex- ception. The President has added in his last messagehas traced the effect of this policy still farther, and shown that the power thus confer- red on the importing merchants of the country is transferred by them at once to England, the gr~eat centre of capital and commerce for the civilized world. For the vast means thus acquired our merchants are in the habit of using abroad as the basis of still more credit. Give 1(2 170 The Currency and the Two Parties. [August, them credit at home, they take the money and make still greater pur. chases on credit in England. And this credit is renewed and main- tamed at the pleasure or the fortune of the creditor people; and it may be arrested or contracted by their fears, their caprice, or their disas- ters. And a contraction of this credit there is followed, as we have lately seen, by panic, convulsion, prostration, paralysis of credit, com- merce, property and labor hereevents more disastrous than any constitutional action of our government at home could effect. The success of Whig policy would therefore trausrer or perpetuate a pleni- potent control over this country, across the oceanwould impair our national independence, and, in subjecting us to a despotism, leave us without the consolation of its being our own. Our masters would be the vassals of others, and we Slavesaye, and the bondsmen of slaves. From such base ends, and by such abject ways, it is proposed, by the Democratic party, to rescue the country, so far as the power and policy of the General Government are concerned, by maintaining the re-establishment of a constitutional treasurysuch a treasury as was created immediately after the organization of our present government, and changed, in violation of law, by Alexander Hamiltonsuch a treasury as Thomas Jefferson proposed, and such as the people have, by their votes on the very question at the elections last year, approved a treasury into which nothing is to be ultimately received but gold and silver, the only currency recognised by the Constitution, and from which no money is to be paid or lent, except when appropriated by law, which is the express prohibition of the Constitution. If this confer on the President the power of the purse, then has the Constitution con- ferred it. If this be destructive of the credit system which Mr. Web- ster assertsputting by a well known figure of speech, the whole for a part, bank credit for all creditthen is the Constitution to be held responsible. Mr. Rives is the principal declaimer on the power~ of the purse. He is in favor of State bank depositories, and voted to place the public treasure, then rapidly rising to a surplus of forty millions, on deposite in some ninety odd banks, with the privilege of lending it at their own discretion, and for their own, profit, and yet reserving the power to the Secretary of the Treasury of taking it when he pleased. The Secre- tary or the deposite banks may control fifty millions at their joint or separate discretion, but without the power of the purse. But the Sec- retary, with the receiving and disbursing officers, cannot have the cus- tody of five millions, excluded from any use thereof, under the penalty of felony, without throwing that gentleman into spasms of patriotism at the power of the purse ! Mr. Webster is the great Whig expounder of the Constitution, and 1840.1 The Carrency and the Two Parties. 171 in interpreting that part which prohibits the payment of money from the United States Treasury except upon appropriations of law, he con. strues by a fiction the vaults of banks to be the public treasury, and by another fiction he construes the money to be actually there on deposite, when in fact it is lent out. Mr. Webster is the champion of construction. And in supporting a national bank, protective tariff and national internal improvement system, he contrives to make the Con. stitution confer more power by implication than it does by express lan- guage. The tariff pours the circulation of the country into th& bank, from which, afler passing through the great aorta of the import trade, it is diffused again by internal improvements through the country. This operation, we have seen, swelled the public revenue and surplus beyond all former example. Mr. Webster beheld this result with the delight peculiar to an advocate of consolidated power, and saw how much it was promoted by what he calls the credit system. He would perpetuate and enlarge the power of the General Government, by se- curing for it an immense fiscal action through tariff and internal im- provement, and bringing this fiscal agency to act on the present amplified system of bank credit throughout the country. It is remark- able that, in the bodily constitution, the circulation is not subject to the judgment and will of the individual, but to higher and surer laws. So it has also long been observed, that the circulation of money has never been subject to the control of government, without injury to commerce and to industry. Commerce has its own laws, which correct its own excesses, and promote the general prosperity far better than legislation has ever yet done. If our governments, both State and Federal, had heretofore done nothing with the currency, instead of turning, by the policy that has been adopted, the credit and capital of the country into a particular channel, and that the wrong one, our industry and property would now be far in advance of their present state. The General Government, therefore, in retiring from its previous inter- ference with currency and credit~ will, so far as the new policy affects credit, affect it favorablywill leave it to its own lawsleave it to return to its natural and salutary channels. This policy will not diminish credit, but increase it; not reduce the circulation, but increase it; not lessen the value of property and labor, but enhance them. The reverse of all this, however, is predicted by the Whigs. It is contended by that party, that the constitutional treasury would cause a great reduction of the currency, and consequent fall of prices. This is contrary to reason and experience. The amount of circulation in any country is determined by its business, compared with the business of other countries. And this will hold true, with regard either to an exclusive metallic, or a mixed currency of specie and convertible paper. If any money be added by government, or any other cause, then the 172 The Currency and the Two Parties. [August, operations of trade, whether the addition be made in metal or in paper, an equal amount will forthwith leave the country. If, on the other hand, the amount be diminished by such cause, the chasm will be filled by importation from abroad. The seaports are the waste.weirs of the currency, through which it will flow out if redundant, and flow in if there be a deficiency within. The use, therefore, of bank paper does not permanently increase the circulation of our country, except in the proportion that it increases the aggregate circulation of the world. The destruction of bank paper would not, therefore, permanently diminish our circulation, except in the same proportion, and that proportion is trifling. The circulation of the commercial world is at least three thousand millions,our bank paper averages one hundred and thirty millions, which is about four and a half per cent. Ou~ paper currency, however, is sustained by about thirty millions of specie, which lies idle in bank, and which would come into circulation if the paper were to go out. The residue to be supplied out of other nations, would be an hundred millions, or about three per cent. on the aggregate, and would affect prices to that extent, and no more, both here and elsewhere. This hundred millions could be gradually supplied in a few years, by reducing our imports of silks, wines and other luxuries, to the amount of ten or twelve millions per annum; and this reduction is easily made, if money is more in demand at home than there. The price of pro.. perty and labor, however, would rise, in consequence of the increased stability and security of trade under an uniform currency. Many in- vestments would be made, and operations undertaken, if our currency were not so fluctuating. Capital would become more active, credit more confident, and labor and property would rise beyond the slight depression which the change of currency would otherwise produce. But the constitutional treasury will only increase our present pro. portion of metallic currency about five~millions, without causing the reduction of a dollar in the paper. It will tend to check its liability to expansion; but the effect on the aggregate amount of our own circulation, or the value of property and lahor, is absolutely too slight for calculation, to say nothing of the counteracting effect of increased stability and confidence. We are told of the low prices of labor in countries whose currency is metallicof high prices in England where paper prevails. But the facts are misrepresented. In England, the price of labor is in fact lower than any other country. Thousands of able-bodied men can be found in the agricultural districts to work for nothing but a subsist- ence,for there are thousands of such on the parishes for want of such employment. In the towns and manufactories, the nominal rate of wages is high, because that rate is required, at the price of provi- sions, to subsist the laborer. The operative works fourteen or sixteen 1840.] The Currency and the Two Parties. 173 hours per day, for enough merely to keep him from starvation; and if the corn laws were repealed, so as to let in bread-stuffs cheap, the price of labor would fall of course toward the standard in the agricultural districts. Why then have prices been so high in this country, if not the result of our paper currency? Because, with us labor is scarce, and, in consequence of our fertile soil, exceedingly productive. The sun rises not, the dews of heaven do not fall, on so vast an extent of fertile land as oursand as yet population is not dense; but if we had about two hundred persons to the square mile, on a sterile soil like Europe, with such enormous public debts and taxation, and such local and partial legislation as there prevail, no paper currency could sus- tain the wages of labor beyond the mere sustenance of the operative. And to reduce him to such a condition, no policy is better adapted than what is now contended for by the Whigs, comprehending a tariff; in- ternal improvement, bank and land billall well adapted to the transfer of the labor and property of the people at large to the business and pockets of a few sections and classes. The objections, that the sub-treasury provides one currency for the government, and another and a worse one for the peopleand that it is designed for a government bank of issueare unworthy of notice, even though uttered by such men as Mr. Rives and Mr. Clay. This, however, is a new and prominent development of the Whig party. Before Harrison was nominated, all distinctions of class were politi- cally unmeutionable. From the courtly Intelligencer down to the least of the decency, all distinctions of class, of the rich and poor, were jacobinical, revolutionary and treasonable. Now we hear the attorney, the money-changer, the counter-hopper, shouting at the top of their lungs Hurrah for log cabins and hard cider ! The popu- lar love of military glory, once denounced by Mr. Clay as so low and dangerous, is now too dignified for his party to rely on ;- and the em- blems of poverty and privation in early settlement have become the watch-words of the aristocratic party, at the very moment they are pretending to fear, in the establishment of a metallic currency, a lapse from the present social refinement of the age. Such, however, is the characteristic perfidy of a party which forsakes its own proper leader, and renounces its own chosen name, because both have become odious by the practice of principles which they no longer dare to avow, and the oft-repeated condemnation of a great people they are now trying to deceivea party, whose hopes of success are now brightened for the moment with the prospect of using the commercial calamities of the country to mislead the understanding of the people. A party whose faith is thus based upon folly, and whose success depends on disaster, has already become an evil omen to the republicits voice, 174 Tke Dealk of Hernando de Solo. [August, like that of the loon on the western waters, being loudest in seasons of storm and of gloom. It is well. By one of those extraordinary conjunctures that supply history with epochs, the Whigs are now to make their assault upon the Democratic party, on a great test question, with all the aid of hard times and a military chieftain. Not since the conflict of 98 has the division of party and principle been more deep and vital than now on the constitutional treasury. The Whigs have likewise the talent of Clay and Webster, men worthy of the best days of Federalism. On the other hand, the Democratic party boast the calm, clear judgment, the unfaltering firmness, and the well-tried devotion of the Presic~.Lt to democracy, through all the panics and pressures of the last twelve years. They have likewise.(to specify but two, as an off.set to those we have named on the other side)the energetic, the indefati- gable, the unswerving Benton, to whom his country owes a debt of gratitude, exceeded by the long and faithful merits of no living states- manand the profound and brilliant Calhoun, who, in advancing p0. litical philosophy beyond his contemporaries, has exalted our concep. tion of human reason itself, the faculty by which he triumphs. We have also yet the cheering voice of Jackson himselfthat voice which has always been, in the civil as well as military conflicts of his coun- try, the harbinger of victory. Let then the ballot-box be once more invoked, and its next response, we trust, will consign Federalism to long years of exile from the favor and the councils of the Republic. THE DEATH OF HERNANDO DE SOTO. .. Thus perished De Soto. His soldiers pronounced his eulogy by grieving for his loss. The priests chaunted over his corse the first requiem ever heard on the waters of the Mississippi. To conceal his death, his body was wrapped in a mantle, and in the stillness of midnight silently sunk in..the middle of the stream. The discoverer of the Mississippi slept beneath its waters. He had crossed a large part of the continent in search of gold, and found nothing so remarkable as his burial place.Baw~crofts United States. The day-dawn in a wilderness! It is a blessed sight To weary wanderers who have heard Dread noises through the night.

J. B. P. P., J. B. The Death of Hernando De Soto 174-177

174 Tke Dealk of Hernando de Solo. [August, like that of the loon on the western waters, being loudest in seasons of storm and of gloom. It is well. By one of those extraordinary conjunctures that supply history with epochs, the Whigs are now to make their assault upon the Democratic party, on a great test question, with all the aid of hard times and a military chieftain. Not since the conflict of 98 has the division of party and principle been more deep and vital than now on the constitutional treasury. The Whigs have likewise the talent of Clay and Webster, men worthy of the best days of Federalism. On the other hand, the Democratic party boast the calm, clear judgment, the unfaltering firmness, and the well-tried devotion of the Presic~.Lt to democracy, through all the panics and pressures of the last twelve years. They have likewise.(to specify but two, as an off.set to those we have named on the other side)the energetic, the indefati- gable, the unswerving Benton, to whom his country owes a debt of gratitude, exceeded by the long and faithful merits of no living states- manand the profound and brilliant Calhoun, who, in advancing p0. litical philosophy beyond his contemporaries, has exalted our concep. tion of human reason itself, the faculty by which he triumphs. We have also yet the cheering voice of Jackson himselfthat voice which has always been, in the civil as well as military conflicts of his coun- try, the harbinger of victory. Let then the ballot-box be once more invoked, and its next response, we trust, will consign Federalism to long years of exile from the favor and the councils of the Republic. THE DEATH OF HERNANDO DE SOTO. .. Thus perished De Soto. His soldiers pronounced his eulogy by grieving for his loss. The priests chaunted over his corse the first requiem ever heard on the waters of the Mississippi. To conceal his death, his body was wrapped in a mantle, and in the stillness of midnight silently sunk in..the middle of the stream. The discoverer of the Mississippi slept beneath its waters. He had crossed a large part of the continent in search of gold, and found nothing so remarkable as his burial place.Baw~crofts United States. The day-dawn in a wilderness! It is a blessed sight To weary wanderers who have heard Dread noises through the night. 1840.J The Death of Hcrtrnnclo de Soto. 175 The ceaseless howl of hungry wolves, And known they were so near, That as they fed the waning fires, Their hearts were chilled with fear. And all uncheered by jocund morn, Haggard and hollow-eyed, Awoke De Sotos weary band By Mississippis tide. From sleep which was not rest, they rose From earth beds dank and cold; Their painful looks of blasted hopes The mournful tidings told. They gazed upon the mighty stream, In grandeur flowing by; They wutched the rising suns first ~gleam Shoot up into the sky. The stream was calm, the sky was clear, And dread and dark around, Pathless, impenetrable shade, The unknown forest frowned. Where, where the golden sands l oh, where ~I7he rich spontaneous ore, They fondly dreamd these dreadful wilds In such profusion bore l Delusion, worse than madness all! But now it had gone by, And they had found each hope nought else But very mockery. Men of the proud Castilian race Shed tears like summer rain, Thinking of each familiar face They neer might see again. In feverish dreams Spains olive bowers Had danced before their eyes, And vine-leaf wreaths and orange flowers Would in their visions rise. Though light with sunshine merrily The waves dashed on the shore, And there were ever glancing by Birds that strange plumage wore; 176 The Death of Hernando De Soto. [August, And unfamiliar sounds of life Caine from the forest wild, Scarce heeding them, D e Soto lay, As helpless as a child. A priest without his holy guise Said holy words to him, And prayed that he in strength might rise~ Yet still his eye grew dim; And on his brow the dews of death Were gathering thick and fast, And with the mornings misty wreath, Away his spirit passed. Twas midnight in the wilderness, Up rose the gentle moon, With stars in purest loveliness Heavens floor was thickly strewn; And neath their light, like silver bright, The river still flowed on; But one saw not that beauteous night, His Exodus was done. Wrapped in a cloak, no shroud had he, H is corse sad mourners bore To a light bark, which noiselessly Lay trembling by the shore; To where, with deep and fearful sweep, The current swiftest flowed; A rapid stroke the waters broke, As that strange hearse they rowed. A moments pausea hurried plash Came on the waters wide, It might have been the sturgeons dash, Up-springing from the tide; Then like an arrow shot the bark Back oer the silent wave The rivers bed, far down and dark, Was proud De Sotos grave. Otwego, N. Y. 3. B. P. 1840.] 177 TRANSLATIONS FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. I. LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM. Mug?o~ ~v, ~vOgwnr~ ~. r. X. Oh mortal! ore thy race began, Unnumberd years their cycles ran; And when thy goal Is reachd, unnumberd still will be The ages of eternity Onward to roll. Thy life is but a point; yea, less; And yet within that point we press Uncounted woes. Ills unalloyd our blessings mar Unnumberd illsmore hideous far Than deaths repose. As Crito, son of Phido, fled, Flee thou, while thickens round thy head Lifes fearful blast. Be hope, and joy, and loves soft tone, Within the darksome grave alone Fearlessly case. II. ARcHIAS. g~Yxct~ aJvsr& ~ rig, x. r. X. Right are the Thracians, when they sadly mourn The infant, on the morning of its birth; Right, also, when they joy that death has torn Death, the fates minionsome one from the earth. Why not? The cup of life is full of sadness; Death is the healing draught for all its madness. L

Translations from the Greek Anthology. I. Leonidas of Tarentum 177

1840.] 177 TRANSLATIONS FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. I. LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM. Mug?o~ ~v, ~vOgwnr~ ~. r. X. Oh mortal! ore thy race began, Unnumberd years their cycles ran; And when thy goal Is reachd, unnumberd still will be The ages of eternity Onward to roll. Thy life is but a point; yea, less; And yet within that point we press Uncounted woes. Ills unalloyd our blessings mar Unnumberd illsmore hideous far Than deaths repose. As Crito, son of Phido, fled, Flee thou, while thickens round thy head Lifes fearful blast. Be hope, and joy, and loves soft tone, Within the darksome grave alone Fearlessly case. II. ARcHIAS. g~Yxct~ aJvsr& ~ rig, x. r. X. Right are the Thracians, when they sadly mourn The infant, on the morning of its birth; Right, also, when they joy that death has torn Death, the fates minionsome one from the earth. Why not? The cup of life is full of sadness; Death is the healing draught for all its madness. L

Translations from the Greek Anthology. II. Archias 177-178

1840.] 177 TRANSLATIONS FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. I. LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM. Mug?o~ ~v, ~vOgwnr~ ~. r. X. Oh mortal! ore thy race began, Unnumberd years their cycles ran; And when thy goal Is reachd, unnumberd still will be The ages of eternity Onward to roll. Thy life is but a point; yea, less; And yet within that point we press Uncounted woes. Ills unalloyd our blessings mar Unnumberd illsmore hideous far Than deaths repose. As Crito, son of Phido, fled, Flee thou, while thickens round thy head Lifes fearful blast. Be hope, and joy, and loves soft tone, Within the darksome grave alone Fearlessly case. II. ARcHIAS. g~Yxct~ aJvsr& ~ rig, x. r. X. Right are the Thracians, when they sadly mourn The infant, on the morning of its birth; Right, also, when they joy that death has torn Death, the fates minionsome one from the earth. Why not? The cup of life is full of sadness; Death is the healing draught for all its madness. L 17~ Tranalations from tke Greek Anthology. [August, hI. LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM. T~v ~& ixgav fLU ?.syoudsv. x. r. X. They Bay I am a tiny thing, and deem me all unmeet To sail upon the ocean wide, when tempests rudely beat; Forgetting that when dangers dread around the vessel lower, No strength can save the stoutest bark, for fortune rules the hour. In helm and oar then let them trust, to them their faith be givn, My confidence I fully place alone, above, in Heavn. Iv,. ANTIPATER SIDONIUS. On Anacreon. eOcXXO5 ~-ergaxogu~J43og, Ava,c~sov. x. q ~. Around thy tomb, In brightest bloom, Anacreon divine! May ivy wreath, And purple heath, In graceful clusters twine. In gelid nil, Let founts distil Their freshness round thy slumbers, And grateful vine Yield luscious wine, As once inspired thy numbers. That if the grave One joy can have, Thou mayst possess the treasure; Since life from thee Had richest glee, And love its sweetest measure. Pitt~field, Mast. S. S.

Translations from the Greek Anthology. III. Leonidas of Tarentum 178

17~ Tranalations from tke Greek Anthology. [August, hI. LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM. T~v ~& ixgav fLU ?.syoudsv. x. r. X. They Bay I am a tiny thing, and deem me all unmeet To sail upon the ocean wide, when tempests rudely beat; Forgetting that when dangers dread around the vessel lower, No strength can save the stoutest bark, for fortune rules the hour. In helm and oar then let them trust, to them their faith be givn, My confidence I fully place alone, above, in Heavn. Iv,. ANTIPATER SIDONIUS. On Anacreon. eOcXXO5 ~-ergaxogu~J43og, Ava,c~sov. x. q ~. Around thy tomb, In brightest bloom, Anacreon divine! May ivy wreath, And purple heath, In graceful clusters twine. In gelid nil, Let founts distil Their freshness round thy slumbers, And grateful vine Yield luscious wine, As once inspired thy numbers. That if the grave One joy can have, Thou mayst possess the treasure; Since life from thee Had richest glee, And love its sweetest measure. Pitt~field, Mast. S. S.

S. S. S., S. Translations from the Greek Anthology. IV. Antipater Sidonius. On Anacreon 178-179

17~ Tranalations from tke Greek Anthology. [August, hI. LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM. T~v ~& ixgav fLU ?.syoudsv. x. r. X. They Bay I am a tiny thing, and deem me all unmeet To sail upon the ocean wide, when tempests rudely beat; Forgetting that when dangers dread around the vessel lower, No strength can save the stoutest bark, for fortune rules the hour. In helm and oar then let them trust, to them their faith be givn, My confidence I fully place alone, above, in Heavn. Iv,. ANTIPATER SIDONIUS. On Anacreon. eOcXXO5 ~-ergaxogu~J43og, Ava,c~sov. x. q ~. Around thy tomb, In brightest bloom, Anacreon divine! May ivy wreath, And purple heath, In graceful clusters twine. In gelid nil, Let founts distil Their freshness round thy slumbers, And grateful vine Yield luscious wine, As once inspired thy numbers. That if the grave One joy can have, Thou mayst possess the treasure; Since life from thee Had richest glee, And love its sweetest measure. Pitt~field, Mast. S. S. 1840.) 179 GOOD NIGHT! From the German of Korner. Good night! Let the sad and weary rest Day approacheth to its end, Laborers their task suspend Till the light of morning blest. Good night! Go to rest! Curtain close thy weary eyes; In the streets now all is still, Save the watchmens voices shill, On the air their night call flies. Go to rest Slumber sweet! Dream thou too of Eden bliss; Love, alas! the treacherous boy, Steals thy every waking joy; Dream thou of thy loved ones kiss. Slumber sweet! Good night! - Slumber till the morning breaks; Slumber till another morrow Comes with all its cares and sorrow. Fearless sleep! Thy father wakes. Good night! Oswego, N. Y. M. L. P. ENGLISH CHARTISM AND ENGLISH CREDIT. WHEN the memorable discussion which had been instituted by Henri IV. to cloak his intended change of religion had finished, the Catholic Legate is reported to have said to one of his late antagonists, that the doctrine and the policy of the Catholic Church could be summed up in a single word, and that word was,, Crede. The

M. L. P. P., M. L. Good Night! From the German of Korner 179

1840.) 179 GOOD NIGHT! From the German of Korner. Good night! Let the sad and weary rest Day approacheth to its end, Laborers their task suspend Till the light of morning blest. Good night! Go to rest! Curtain close thy weary eyes; In the streets now all is still, Save the watchmens voices shill, On the air their night call flies. Go to rest Slumber sweet! Dream thou too of Eden bliss; Love, alas! the treacherous boy, Steals thy every waking joy; Dream thou of thy loved ones kiss. Slumber sweet! Good night! - Slumber till the morning breaks; Slumber till another morrow Comes with all its cares and sorrow. Fearless sleep! Thy father wakes. Good night! Oswego, N. Y. M. L. P. ENGLISH CHARTISM AND ENGLISH CREDIT. WHEN the memorable discussion which had been instituted by Henri IV. to cloak his intended change of religion had finished, the Catholic Legate is reported to have said to one of his late antagonists, that the doctrine and the policy of the Catholic Church could be summed up in a single word, and that word was,, Crede. The

English Chartism and English Credit 179-193

1840.) 179 GOOD NIGHT! From the German of Korner. Good night! Let the sad and weary rest Day approacheth to its end, Laborers their task suspend Till the light of morning blest. Good night! Go to rest! Curtain close thy weary eyes; In the streets now all is still, Save the watchmens voices shill, On the air their night call flies. Go to rest Slumber sweet! Dream thou too of Eden bliss; Love, alas! the treacherous boy, Steals thy every waking joy; Dream thou of thy loved ones kiss. Slumber sweet! Good night! - Slumber till the morning breaks; Slumber till another morrow Comes with all its cares and sorrow. Fearless sleep! Thy father wakes. Good night! Oswego, N. Y. M. L. P. ENGLISH CHARTISM AND ENGLISH CREDIT. WHEN the memorable discussion which had been instituted by Henri IV. to cloak his intended change of religion had finished, the Catholic Legate is reported to have said to one of his late antagonists, that the doctrine and the policy of the Catholic Church could be summed up in a single word, and that word was,, Crede. The 180 English Chartism and English Credit. [August, Calvinist answered, that with himself and his brethren also, Faith was essential, but that before they would be willing to believe, a natural request must be complied with, and that was Proba. Such indeed have been the constant watch-words in the battle that has gone on l9ng before and long since the Reformation, between the advocates and the opponents of reform. All that we ask of you, was substantially the language of the ministers of Henry VIII. is to believe. Settle quietly into the creed of the divine right of kings, and you will be little inclined to resist such high credentials. What if your king has mur- dered three wives, and married seven, and has changed his religion as often as he has his wives, and burns all those who are not clear to what quarter his conscience is at the present veering? Only believe that his credentials are inspired, and it easily follows that his presence must suspend all human laws, till like the Roman Emperor in the do. minions of a Proconsul, he sweeps before him all vestiges of local custom and established law. We can realize the difficulty which was felt by Charles I., nourished as he was in such a school, to awake from the dreams of regal supremacy in which he had lived from his infancy, and which, if they had not been somewhat roughly broken, would have hung around him even unto death. He had heard no other doctrine. He never until the last moment had been told that he was not divinely appointed. Consequently he never thought of put. ting any other case to his people, than that which a man who feels him. self to possess a right incontestibly his own would use to those who through delusion withhold it from him. He retained his belief to the scaffold, and with him died the last remains of the old patriarchal doe. trine of royal supremacy and royal perfection. Dr. Johnson says, it is true, that he was taken when very young to Queen Anne to be touched for the kings.evil; but the superstition which attached to the king the power of curing a disease, which, sin. gular to say, seems an heir.loom in royal families, was even then con. fined to the lowest classes, and has long since died away. Now, the advocates of royal authority base their system on expediency, and not on divine right. Then, they acknowledged that it wus oppressive and unequal, but argued, that as it was of divine institution that it would be impious to touch it. Now, its ancient props are vanished, and its ad. vocates, finding that the old story of its origin has lost all credence, are lost in admiration of its grace and its grandeurits Gothic strength and its Grecian elegance. Every arrow which can be snatched from savage warfare is aimed by its defenders at more republican establish. ments. The child whom a century ago they disowned and perse. cutedwhoin they at first tried to choke with their own exports, and 1840.] BngZisk Chartism and English Credit. 181 then to murder because it rejected the dosenow that it has escaped from their pupilage, forms the object of their ridicule and their sneers. Ireland, which has been buckled to their side from the time when they first heard of her existence, is treated very much in the same way as the cat which the frolicksome monkey had lashed to the barbers chair, and which for every complaint received a fresh gash. But each blow is accompanied with the most plausible arguments, and she is told that her s~ifferings are imaginary; that virtual representation is better than universal suffrage, and that the disfranchised citizens of Cork and Limerick are fully represented through the corporation of Dublin University. We do not wonder that the mass of the inhabitants of Great Britain are alive to their insulted rights. Their oppressors have shown their weakness by their resort to sophistry. Once the star-chamber was a syllogism, and the scaffold an enthymeme; but now that they have been driven behind the limits of a constitution which has been forced upon them by two revolutions, they have sought to dupe those whom they cannot coerce, and to substitute for the chains of an inquisition the net of jesuitical deceit. We do not fear them on such grounds. The cause of liberty may be checked, and perhaps crushed, under the heel of violence; but when left to herself on her own free elementwhen left to combat the lies of the deceiver with truth, and to wrestle breast to breast with her foesher victory will be soon and certain. Perhaps at first her unaccustomed weapons may be clumsily handled, and like the young Jewish shepherd, when called forth to fight the battle of the just against the mighty, she may awake the fears of her friends. But the free common air will soon re-awaken her, and her limbs will regain the vigor, of which the cramp of confinement had deprived them. It is a melancholy truth, that among the many strong and wise men whom England in the last century has produced, there has been no one who has been willing to devote himself to the cause. Among its occa- sional supporters we can number, it is true, men who, like Fox and Brougham, could have placed themselves, if they had thrown them- selves manfully in the breach, at the head of its ranks, but whose in- consistencies have damped the confidence which would otherwise have rested on their exertions. Fox was through life struggling with an influ- ence which gilded his cradle, which deserted him, it is true, during the cloudy scenes of his middle life, but which returned again to throw its gew-gaws on his coffin. He sprang from a noble family; and although his high-bred friends at one time left him, so that his force in the House of Peers scarcely numbered twelve votes, yet just before his melan- choly death they clustered again around him, endeavoring to seduce, 1S2 Englisk Gkartism and English Credit. [August, when in power, the man whom, when desolate, they had neglected. But take him for all in all, in his best and purest hours, at the time when he was most deserted by those whose friendship had always bewildered himhe was a man of great and brawny mind, and of a manliness of judgment that enabled him to dispel the haze of prejudice which for centuries had been gathering on the horizon, and to view his fellow men apart from those false relations in which the tyranny and cunning of his predecessors had placed them. To the persevering opposition which he made through the greater part of his life to the encroachments of royal usurpation, do we owe. a full measure of the increased reform and the increased education which have since been experienced by his countrymen. Mr. Brougham commenced his career under far more favorable circumstances. Born and educated among the Highlands, he was taught to view the Scottish Covenanter more reverentially than the British Peer. He was bred in povertyin poverty just sufficient to ripen and direct his ambition, without smothering it under the ashes of childish desolation. The opportunities of early dissipation lay not scattered around his path like that of his great predecessor; but he came into public life with a frame unimpaired by early excesses, and a character untarnished by whispered reproach. With a reputation already splendid at the bar, with a name at Nisi Prius equalled only by that of Erskine, he was carried by his friends to the House of Commons with a mixture of fear and of triumph. When Erskine was first brought into the House, Pitt is said to have taken up his pen to have answered him; but as the lawyer proceeded, and his argument progressed, and the benches of St. Stephens vanished before his eyes, and the jury box rose up in the confusion, the minister threw down his notes in contempt, and from that moment the parlia- inentary reputation of Erskine was blasted. But far different was the case with Brougham. Those, perhaps, who have formed their opinion of his oratory as developed in the House of Peers, can form no ade. quate idea of his earlier efforts. The book of his ambition is sealed the hopes of his boyhood are perishedhis true place, his seat in the House of Commons, wheedled away from him, while he himself, child. less, friendless, and hopeless, like the Jewish warrior of old, is exhi. bited chained and blinded, in the splendid palace of his enemies. But there are moments even now when his former vigor returns; and in the thunder of his voice, and the terror of his eye, the grandeur of his intellect beams forth. But what does he care for triumph? The friends and the antagonists of his brighter days are silent, and in their places have sprung up a race who knew them not, and whose sole object 1840.] English Chartism and English Credit. 183 is the power and place which are forever removed from his grasp. The Lord Chancellorship, like the honors which were wont to be cast on the intended Bride of the Nile, has been to him the seal of annihilation. But we would drop the last half of his life, and look at him as the great defender of those rights which now in his old age he seems sometimes to have forgotten.* We are glad that he has lately given to the world, in compliance with the example of his late great rival, a complete report of his speeches on the bullion question, and the Portuguese negotiation. We can imngine, indeed, no fiercer conflict than that which occurred between Brougham and Canning, after the return of the latter from Lisbon. Canning, still under the flush of a suspicious transaction, and goaded on probably as much by the stings of conscience as by the gloomy silence of his opponent, folded around him every shred of his polished armour, knowing that then to be conquered was to die: like St. George, when in the country of the magician, he saw before him an antagonist whose prowess was as terrible as it was gigantic. Adroit movements would no longer avail him, and graceful mancnuvres, like the fluttering of the bird before the fangs of the serpent, would lead him, on every circle, nearer and nearer to destruction. He felt that an awful conflict was approaching; that it would be strength against strength, breast against breast; that his polished arrows would glance from the coat of his adversary unbathed, and that his armour would be crushed beneath his grasp. It is said that the day before that great contest Brougham sat alone in his chamber, with his brow knit, and his eye strained to its highest tension, and his lips locked, lest the collected elements which were warring within should escape before their union was complete. Not then had he learnt to lead forth his thoughts in a courtly canter, lest they should startle the host around. But he felt that he was fighting the battles of freedom against the kings of the earth, and his lofty * There is an anecdote lately told of Lord Brougham which illustrates admira- bly the unfortunate habit which he has fallen into of doing everything for effect. In his new edition of Paleys Natural Theology a work, by the way, which cost its venerable author the last ten years of his life in patient labor, and which Lord Brougham, after having dressed it in a new form, has dished it up as an afternoon amusementhe states, by way of illustrating the wisdom of the Deity in the infe- rior machinery of nature, that the yellow bearded Canadian owl, (if we remember rightly,) though from its corpulent habits it can rarely be induced to fly at all, whea it does fly invariably pursues a cycloid. On being told by a distinguished natu- ralist that such could not be the fact; that he had never met with so strange a state- ment in all his reading; and that from the specimen of the bird in question ia the Zoological Gardens, he should think it would be of the most distressing conse- quences in one of the species to execute such a manoeuvre, Lord Brougham per- sisted in the account, thinking, perhaps, that whatever might be its truth, it served very well to point his moral. 184 Englisl& Ckarti~m and Engliak Credit. [August, position gave him superhuman courage. Had it not been for Mr. Broughamthe Reform Bill would be sleeping in the grave of Jeremy Bentham, if that worthy philosopher can be said to have a grave, which we hear is very doubtful, owing to a singular clause in his will requiring that his body should be embalmed and dressed in its familiar clothes, and placed in his ancient arm-chair, in the cottage of which it was so long the attraction. Municipal reform was thought by many to be one of the wildest bantlings that had been placed under the care of the Malmesbury Utilitarian, till Brougham took it, and nursed it, and cushioned it on the woolsack. Even without it, and we believe that he will now be willing to dodge the honor of its parentage, there are two great national enterprises which owe to him their success. The abolition of the slave trade hung for awhile on his own strong energies for support; and the cause of education, partial as it still is, and decked out with strange and fantastic ornamentshere tied by Bishop Phillpotts to a train of Oxford tracts there linked by OConnell to an Irish agitation nurserystill through his exertions continues to fly aloft, perhaps the more steadily from the wind that has been raised against it, and the tail that had been pinned to its end. Late in the day as it is, if Lord Brougham would forget his desolation, and return to his old love, discharged as he necessarily is from all suspicion of mere political ambition, he might find himself in the place which he once occupied, as the strongest, if not the earliest advocate of English freedom. We must ask pardon for so long a digression. The time may come when Fox and Brougham will be looked upon as the fathers, though per- haps as the heedless ones, of that republican spirit which will soon we trust spread over their country. Perhaps they were unacquainted with the mettle of the egg they were hatching, and were charming themselves with the hope that the eagles brood would lose its spirit from being nursed in the nest of a bantum hen. But, worthy or unworthy of the cause whose alarm they have been sounding, they have aroused from their sleep myriads, who, with their hands on their swords, are ready to maintain their rights. Why should not England be republican? Are her lower classes unfit for the burden of government? They who have born the weight of many a tax, and have breasted the storm of many a battle-field, are they unable to participate in the less arduous and more natural duties of peaceful and republican government? Are her yeomen more feeble than her peers? Are the millions of her dis- franchised another race from the thousands of her voters. Is Ireland, whom for many a century she has led on so disgraceful a dance, carry. ing her through the most eccentric orbits, exposing her as a shield to whatever enemies they met with in their course; at one time whirling her life-blood from her, at another drawing her treasure and her child. 1840.J English Chartism and English Credit. 185 ren to support some new plan of Quixotic ambitionis Ireland in- capable of entering upon the simple task of self-government, because for so long she has been unused to it? Are her limits too cramped by the dungeon to regain their natural position? Should the English Dis- senters and the Irish Catholics* be forced to pay, not only for other mens honest devotion, but also for their ecclesiastical extravagance; so that the money, which would be amply sufficient in many a case to build their own humble churches, should be lavished in the ostenta- tious trickery of an empty cathedral? Or is the great banking mo- nopQly, which already has spread itself over her history during the span of so many charters, to take another stride, till, like the canker worm which has marched with measured step from the root of the tree even unto its boughs, it has reduced its verdure to a skeleton ~t To these and other questions which naturally arise from the troubled state of the British Empire, we fear that no immediate answer can be given. The political system of Great Britain has become so intimately interwoven with its social existence, that suddenly to remove it, might hazard both its integrity and its duration. But we can with- out hesitation ascribe the political evils under which it labors to the aristocratical and monarchical institutions under which it exists; and we can as readily maintain that their prospective removal can only be effected by a substitution, gradual if it must be, immediate if it can be, of a more republican economy. We can trace its extensive scheme of poor-house misery to the taxation, which has sucked from the poor man his energy and his self-respect. We can trace also the taxes and imports which thus openly or secretly deprived him of tho fruits of his labor, to the fierce and protracted wars, and the wide and un- necessary extravagance in which royalty since its birth has indulged itself. flow was the public debt of Great Britain accumulated, amount- ing as it does to upwards of seven hundred and eighty millions of pouQds? Was it the result of necessary expenditure? Was it wrung from the people by the exigencies of a defensive war? Was it re- quired by the necessities of a frugal government? There has scarcely * Not so much as one-tenth of the Irish population, says a very recent writer, are Episcopalians, and more than six-tenths are Catholics. The annual income of the Irish establishment is about five millions of dollars, and within thirty years Parliament has given it twice that sum; and most of the annual in- come and of the grants has been squandered among a clergy who either do not live in their parishes, or have no parishes to live in. There are in Ireland 539 benefices without a resident clergyman; 157 benefices in which divine worship is never performed; 41 benefices where there is not a single Episcopalian; 100 bene- fices in each of which there are not twelve Episcopalians; and 424 in each of which there is not 100. In fifty benefices where there are in all only 627 Episco- palians, the income from tythe is 70,009 dollars. Taylor on Nat. Estab~ of Relig. Chap. V. Christ. Ex. May, 1840, Art. IV. L2 186 Eaglish Okartism and English Credit. [August, been a pound in the immense debt which wns not incurred to meet the demands of an aggressive war; and there is scarcely a contest in Eng- lish history, from the wars of the Roses down to the Chinese blockade, which has not been the result of either the public arrogance or the in- dividual disgusts of English rulers. The Protestant alliances of Elizabeth, and the Catholic campaigns of her sister; the Spanish connexions of the second Charles, and the Dutch enterprises of William, were all of them the fruits of the private friend- ships or the private dislikes of the monarch. And the Lianoverian suc- cession has been only the means of clinching the evil more desperately upon it. The public debt, and we do not fear the assertion, would have never been incurred, or would have promptly been liquidated, had it not been for the Ilanoverian connexion of the reigning family. It was that which involved Great Britain in the unfortunate continental war in which, at the battle of Minden, she reaped such doubtful laurels. And has not the verdict of this generation been given against Mr. Pitts continental crusades, which, though eventually they might have been necessary to curb the aggressions of France, were at the time as un- provoked as they were extravagant. The preventive measure,~ as it was called, of the attack upon Copenhagen, before Denmark had given her old ally cause of complaint, and before England had signi. fled her intentions by a declaration of warand which, like the system of emasculation which is carried on by the Eastern Sultan among his male dependants, was meant to prevent the possibility of her friend ever being developed into her rivalwas an instance of cold-blooded and cowardly aggression before unequalled in the history of civilized nations. We do not wish to turn back to the strange scenes of the French Revolution. It may afford a subject for consideration at another period; but certainly at the present we may say, that the eccentricities of Ftench philosophy could never have been a sufficient reason for the smothering of English freedom. Perhaps Robespierre would never have been goaded to the pitch he ultimately arrived at, had he not been dogged by the emissaries, if not of English ministe- rialists, at least of Anglicized refugees. Perhaps the inflammation, which spread itself over the surface of the French nation, may have been in part the result of the irritating system of aggression which was pursued towards her. England was roused from the apathy into which the American war had stunned her, and like a strong man awakened by some hideous phantom of the night, threw her arms wildly around her, and spent her blood and her treasure in a warfare, whose management was attended with a horrid delight, unequalled since the days when the Roman Emperor made a hunting gronud of a province. Statesmen deserted the posts which they had spent a life- time in defending, and as the handwriting appeared on the wall, fled 1840.} English Chartism and English Credit. 187 from their ancient land-marks, and sought refuge in the tents of the Stranger. The eloquent enthusiasm of a Burke, and the wise hu- manity of a Wilberforce, forgot their familiar seats, and were ranged side by side with the corruption of a Dundas, and the arrogance of a Thurlow. And what has been done by such convulsive efforts? There has been laid on the country a debt which, without a revolution, she can never hope to pay; and whose principal she can never hope to reduce, till a system is established which will apply her revenue to sinking the national encumbrance, and not to gilding the royal nest. The civil list of Great Britain sweeps away annually more than seven millions of dollars. The naval and military establishments we drop from consideration, because in the banditti state to which she has suc- ceeded in reducing the Eastern nations they may be necessary to pre- serve her commerce. But take the civil list as it is, and add to the amount required for the support of the established church, and the established poor-houses, the interest of the national debt, and the ex- penditures of the British Empire will arrive at over fifty-two millions of pounds. Were the revenue applied to just and national objects, there would be less complaint. But after the interest of the national debt is paid, the surplus that should be applied to the establishment of a sinking fund, is devoted to the trickery of a royal nursery. Retiring ~ministers and broken down peers; ladies of the bed-chamber and princes of the bloodsome of whom by the~way base their claim for reward on verj suspicious foundationsform but a trifling outlet of expenditure. The great and useful botanic establishment at Kew, which was founded at such vast expense by Queen Caroline, was the other day dug up and sold, to afford the funds and the station for a new stable for Queen Victoria. But it is not here that the performances close. Where the pantomime ends, the tragedy begins. The new German harlequin, with his loving mate, skip off the stage, and in their place move on- wards the humble representatives of the poor mans sorrow, and the poor mans humiliation. The poor-house system, which is itself the child of oppressive taxation, reacts updn it, and becomes its father. The laborer, who is reduced to pauperism because he is unable to pay his taxes, is bound up hand and feet, and thrown on the parish, to remain for life an additional weight around the exertions of his neigh. bor, and a crowning argument for his imitation. Tied up, then, in a dungeon, from which his accustomed employments are excludedham. strung, as it were, by the government that should have lifted him from his miseryhe crouches himself in a nook of the large room where his fellows are crowded, and in the solitude of despair, drags out a use. less and wretched life, that might have been a blessing to his kind, as to himself. Perhaps he may grow haggard with watching, and care- less as to life and name; and perhaps the well-hung voice of the 188 JinglisA Chartism and English Credit. [August, parish priest may have failed to have secured to him that consolation1 and those stays, which the humble faith of his fathers, had it been per- mitted to him, might have afforded; and he may be tempted by his desolateness to sins, which, if he once~commit, will surely be grievously visited upon him. He may steal a hen,* and he transported, or a sheep, and be hung. We would turn from such a scene. We have no reason to look upon such. Let those of us who are false to our own young and green country, turn to it, and profit by the sight. There is one respect, however, in which the monetary system of Great Britain nearly affects our interests. When, in the time of William III., it became necessary for the government to borrow money in order to carry on the campaign against Frarce, security was at first given to the lender in the shape of some specified tax, which was set apart as a fund for the discharge of the debt in question. But as the expenditures, both of that reign and of the one that succeeded, in- creased, it was found impossible to afford securities of sufficient extent to exhaust the increased exigencies of the administration, and the system was adopted of borrowing on the naked faith of the govern- ment, without any specified security, and without reference to any period at which the duration of the loan would expire. In order to enable the government to fix upon a certain and invariable rate of in- terest, an expedient was taken at the commencement of the reign of George II., at a time when the usual rate was 3 per cent.; which went to increase to an alarming extent the power which had already been assumed by it, of taking up loans of whatever nature, and to whatever extent it pleased4 Thus, if at a time when money was at 4~- per cent., government was desirous to borrow on the nominal security of 3 per cent. funds, its object was attained by giving to the lender as an equivalent for every 100 advanced, 150 of 3 per cent. stock; or, in fine1 it pledged the credit of the state to pay him 4~ per cent. on the 100 he advanced, forever to come, or if it chose to extinguish the debt at any time., to extinguish it by the payment of 1f~0. It is not our purpose at the present time to dilate on the deceptive cha- racter, and the destructive effects of such a measure. By it, under the pretext of equalizing the rate of exchange to 3 per cent., so that * There is a statement in one of the late criminal reports, which singularly illustrates the inequality, as well as the Vandalism of the English criminal code. Two men were guilty of stealing hens. The one was caught,. and convicted of the fact, hut coming under the hands of a lenient judge, IVIr. Justice Park, if we remember rightly, was let off with a short imprisonment. The other was tempted by his companions easy penance to expiate his sin hy a like lustration, but com- ing before Mr. Justice Bayley, who, though a humane judge, entertained a saotion that people who begin with stealing hens always end in something worse, he was to his surprise sentenced to transportation for fourteen years. 1840.] 189 Eng?isk Okartism and English Credit. the government securities could be more readily negotiated, public contractors have been enriched, greater facility given to borrowing, and the national debt increased one fourth more than it otherwise would have been. Under its auspices, the liabilities of the govern. ment, between the accession of George II., in 1727, to the close of the French war in 1817, have swelled from 52,092,238, to 840,850,491. The debt contracted, during the French war alone, amounted to 601,500,343.* In a time when real property was taxed very high, and in a country where landed estate is locked up from general circulation, by a system of entail bordering on perpetuity, there was but little difficulty in in- ducing capitalists to place their funds in an investment from which they would acquire a good interest, without any of the encumbrances usually attending it. Consequently, a society of merchants and land-owners was before long incorporated, called the Governor and Company of the BankofEnglaftd, who assumed as their capital .C1,200,000, which they had lent to the government at 8 per cent. in a short time the govern- ment scrip became marketable, and what was first meant as a private security, became in the end a public investment. After being trans. muted into specie, therefore, or thrown into landed property, it returned into the hands of capitalists, to be supplied again at a similar rate of interest to the exigencies of the state, so that having once more per- formed its office, it was again emitted, to travel the accustomed round. The result was, that every time it went through the mill it left behind it the marks of its visit, and the government was charged again and again with interest on the funds which, by its own extravagance, it had at Ii rst created. In 1694, and in 1708, the capital of the bank was doubled and quadrupled. In 1800, itwas increased to 11,686,000. We might stop for a moment to remark, that there is an evil inherent in the con- stitution of all banking institutions whose circulation exceeds their bul- lion, and whose loans, the sum of their deposites and their capital, which, after having made them drunken with their spoils, prostrates them in their surfeit to the earth. We might point for example to the history of the Bank of England, an institution of all others the most favored and the best conducted; one which has been hedged in by a series of exclusive privileges, such as have never been experienced by a similar corporation, and which has engaged in its service, not only the latent assistance of government, but also the advice and the exertions of the ablest men of the age. The commercial system of Great Britain was its child, and with a pious fidelity has assisted more than once to carry * Hamilt& n on Nat. Debt, 3d ed. Lon., p. 100. Par]. Papers, No. 165, Sess. 1834. 190 English Chartism and English Credit. [August, it on its shoulders from the gates of the cIty of destruction. The government has gone so far to establish its good faith, as to require that the whole amount of the state securities in its hands should be sacrificed, before the holders of its notes should incur any loss. In 1704 it was enacted, that no other banking institution in England should be allowed, during the- continuance of the charter of the central establishment, to borrow, owe, or take up, any sum or sums of money on their bills or notes payable on demand, or in less time than six months from the borrowing thereof. Yet notwithstanding such pow- erful assistance from the government itself, involving not only the credit of the state, but a monopoly of its privileges; notwithstanding discreet and able management by men who were confessedly the most experienced of their department; the bank, from her origin to the pre- sent day, has undergone a continual series of inflation and of distress. Thus, in 1696, at the great recoinage, she was forced to suspend the payment of her notes, which were at a heavy discount.- She was at last dragged off, not, as is usually the case, by lightening her cargo, but rather, as one would think, by increasing it, for her capital was obliged to be precisely doubled before her resumption could take place. In 1745 the directors ingeniously avoided a second suspension, by paying off, as long as the panic lasted, the notes which were presented at their counter in shillings and sixpences; a precedent which we would re- commend to institutions of a similar character in our own land, who are desirous of protracting the epoch of their disgrace. Towards the end of 1796, and the beginning of 1797, when the Napoleon star was ascending to its culmination, and when expectations were daily enter- tained that a French invasion would land on the coast, a violent run was commenced on the bank, which was increased by the failure, one after another, of the provincial institutions. By the 25th of February, the pressure had become terrific, the streets in the neighborhood were crowded by the capitalist with his swollen bag, and the laborer with his single note; the bullion of the bank, notwithstanding the untiring exertions of the directors, was melting away to a fraction, and the bank herself was shivering on the verge of an utter bankruptcy. Messen- gers passed to and fro from Leaden-Hall to Downing-street. Mr. Pitt loft his country seat, to which he had just retired, almost broken with the weight of the trembling empire which he was supporting, and was seen muffled closely up in his travelling carriage at day-break, and at eight oclock the privy council were summoned together. Long and wearisome was the session, the whole administration being even then ripening into that discord which in three years overturned itThurlow, scowling and threatening, doubting everything, opposing everything, and proposing nothing ; Jenkinson, sheltering himself behind the timid resistance of Grenville; ~nd Dundas, for the first time, deserting the 1840.] English Citartism and English Credit. 191 statesman who had made him and saved himtill at length at mid- night the plan of the minister was from desperation adopted, and on the next day, on Sunday, there appeared an Order in Council, authorizing, and consequently requiring, an immediate suspension on the part of the bank of the payment of all her liabilities. For twenty-six years she remained in a state of actual and complete insolvency; and it was not until long after every vestige of war was gone, or until the most prodigious efforts were made for her assistance, that she regained her former position. If such has been the fate of the Bank of England, under her high ad- vantages, her exclusive privileges, and her able direction, we must despair of an institution of a similar character ever avoiding a similar fate. Efflux and influx seem as essential to the existence of banking institu- tions, as they are to navigable streams. But if they are necessary to our commerce, they should be made congenial to our health. Such fierce convulsions as were suffered by the Bank of England may agi- tate, but can never purify, the system. Had the Highlanders reached London, had Napoleon rested the eagle upon the foge of the metro- polis, where would have been the resting place of English credit? Such have been the origin and the effect of the funding system. It has been its peculiar felicity, during an existence of one hundred and fifty years, to have effected two great national enterprisesthe achievement of a national debt unprecedented in the history of nations, and the periodical convulsion of the people who are favored with its support. That the inflation which it l~ias given to the capital of the country, when connected with the severe taxes which it has been the cause of imposing, has been in the highest degree injurious, we cannot in the slightest degree doubt. The first has lifted the price of the ordi- nary articles of consumption to an extravagant height, the other has reduced the means of the lower classes to a degree altogether incom- petent to their purchase. Nor has the influence of the English banking system been confined to the land that contains it. By the extent of its capital it has glutted our market, and by the excess of its currency it has exhausted our stocks. The extent of her capital, and the smallness of wages, enables the English manufacturer to throw upon the market articles of neces- sary consumption at a much cheaper rate than they can be produced at home. And the amount of the floating property of the English capi- talist, together with the low rate of interest in his own land, leads him to seek the command of foreign stocks, which afford as safe an invest- ment, as well as a higher interest. English Chartism may not for the present succeed in reducing the taxes, or levelling the oppression which bears upon it. A sudden re- volution might prostrate the last, but it would require the protracted 192 English Chartism and English Credit. [August, exertions of a frugal government to cast off the other.* But a system might be adopted, which, by directing the whole energies of the state to its liquidation, and turning them from the ungrateful task of nourish- ing the royal brood, might diminish its oppression, if it did not destroy its weight. To such a reform are the energies of the Chartist party directed. They may soon be successful, or they may not. They are fighting a great battle; but as in all other great battles that were ever fought, there is a strong army against them. They wish to see the elective franchise opened, and the helm of the state rested, where it ought to rest, on the hand of the people. They wish to see the great ecclesiastical establishment that hangs over them diminished, and where it militates against the wishes or the opinion of a majority, en. tirely abolished; for they hold that man is amenable to God alone for his religious belief, and that to force him to a form his conscience re- volts from, is despotism, but not Christianity.t They wish also to see hereditary distinctions cast aside, believing that men become fit for the senate or the camp-council because they are honest and capable, and not because their ancestors have been so. And above all do they wish to see the heavy harness which is upon them thrown aside, and the splendid chariot which is behind them unhitched; so that as free- men they may live and die, proud of the consciousness that, though their Queen may no longer boast of her well.stocked stables, and her glittering livery, they have achieved for themselves and their descend- ants the privilege of eating what they themselves have bought, and of spending what they have spun. They may be soon successful, or they may not. Freedom has often met with many a disaster before she has conquered. She has been immured in prisons, and colonized in swamps. There have been prophets and martyrs whose testimony has been heard from the stake. But the day has come, and still will come, when though dead, they have yet spoken, so that the principles which they inculcated, and the example which they shed, have lived and have risen, when the generation who rejected them was forgotten. * What proportion, asks a late writer in the Supplement to the Encycloptedia Britannica, does our taxation bear to our national means i Taking our taxes as fixed by the late acts, (July, 1819,) and estimating them by their gross produce, such being the payment of the people, and adding the amount of the poor-rates, we have an annual burden of fully 70,000,000 sterling, or one-third of the annual income of Britain and Ireland. t The following statement from a work already alluded to, (Taylor on Nat. Estab.) exhibits distinctly the comparative efficacy of a voluntary and an obliga- tory system of religion. Liverpool. New- Ye rh. Population, 210,000 Population, 220,000 Churches, 37 Churches, 132 Nottingham. Boston. Population, 50,000 Population, 60,000 Churches, 23 Churches, 55 THE UNITED STATES MAGAZINE. AND DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. VOL. VIII. SEPTEMBER, 1840. No. XXXIII. TABLE OF CONTENTS. I. THE PRESIDENTIAL CoNTEsT Page 195 II. THE PRESENT CONDITION OF GREECE. By George Sumner, Esq 204 III. THOMASS REMINISCENCES 226 Reminiscences of the Last Sixty-Five Years, commencing with tile Bat- tle of Lexington. Also, Sketches of his own Life and Times. By E. S. Thomas. Formerly Editor of the Charleston (S. C.) City Gazette, and lately of the Cincinnati Daily Evening Post. In 2 vols. Hartford: Printed by Case, Tiffany, and Barnham, for the Author, 1840. IV. JEREMY BENTHAM. 251 Theory of Legislation, By Jeremy Bentham. Boston: Weeks, Jor- dan 4. Co. 1840. V. WHO GOVERNS, THEN ~A Tale of the Court of Louis XV. From the German of Zschokke. (Concluded.) 271 THIS NUMBER CONTAINS SIX SHEETS, OR NINETY-SIX PAGES.

The Presidential Contest 193-194

THE UNITED STATES MAGAZINE. AND DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. VOL. VIII. SEPTEMBER, 1840. No. XXXIII. TABLE OF CONTENTS. I. THE PRESIDENTIAL CoNTEsT Page 195 II. THE PRESENT CONDITION OF GREECE. By George Sumner, Esq 204 III. THOMASS REMINISCENCES 226 Reminiscences of the Last Sixty-Five Years, commencing with tile Bat- tle of Lexington. Also, Sketches of his own Life and Times. By E. S. Thomas. Formerly Editor of the Charleston (S. C.) City Gazette, and lately of the Cincinnati Daily Evening Post. In 2 vols. Hartford: Printed by Case, Tiffany, and Barnham, for the Author, 1840. IV. JEREMY BENTHAM. 251 Theory of Legislation, By Jeremy Bentham. Boston: Weeks, Jor- dan 4. Co. 1840. V. WHO GOVERNS, THEN ~A Tale of the Court of Louis XV. From the German of Zschokke. (Concluded.) 271 THIS NUMBER CONTAINS SIX SHEETS, OR NINETY-SIX PAGES. ERRATA. Page 233, thirty-third line from top, read palmier for parlor. 239, nineteenth bottom, read 18O4~for 1840.

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The United States Democratic review. / Volume 8, Issue 33, miscellaneous front pages 195-203

THE UNITED STATES MAGAZINE AND DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. VOL. VIII. SEPTEMBER, 1840. No. XXXIII. THE PRESIDENTIAL CONTEST. Is it within the range of imaginable possibilities that General Harrison should succeed in the approaching contest? We cannot conceive it so to be. The struggle is indeed severe and close, and we confess ourselves equally surprised and mortified that such should be the case. But to suppose the overthrow of the Administration which has maintained itself so nobly and gloriously throughout the past Presidential term, and the erection upon its ruins of an Adminis- tration of which the present candidate of the Whig party should be the head, seems to us indeed a combination of ideas so ridiculous an outrage upon all right and reason so monstrousa reductic ad absurdum so completethat we could not believe in it though every State in the Union should exhibit the most unfavorable indications in the preliminary local elections. And ifwe suppose the case as a mere abstract hypothesisif the infliction of such an Administration upon our country should be in reserve for us, as one of those myste- rious dispensations of Providence to which we must perforce submit, however little we may be able to understand them, it will not be till we shall have heard with our own ears and seen with our own eyes the ceremony of the inauguration of General Harrison, that we shall fully believe and realize that a majority ~of the people of the United States can have been brought to do this foolish thing. Let us take as calm and clear a view of the whole question as may be in our power. It may be well to bring together, into a brief and comprehensive summary, the principal issues involved in the coming Presidential election, and the claims of the two competing candidates to that popular confidence which the friends of both respectively in- voke. The great controversy which now so violently agitates the whole country from centre to circumference, presents at the outset a twofold aspect, as a question of men and of measuresof parties and of prin 196 The Presidential Contest. [September, ciples. These two distinct points of view are indeed very apt to blended and confounded together; nor is it possible entirely to sepa- rate them; to a certain extent they necessarily influence and modify each other, nor should either be lost sight of,in fixing an undivided attention upon the other. rrhough there cannot be any comparison in the relative importance of the two, the consideration of men being but secondary to that of measures, yet is it very certain that the disregard of the former, which some persons are apt to suppose the height of political wisdom and purity, is the surest mode of going wrong in respect to the latter. In forming his decision on which of the two sides to cast the weight of his influence and vote, the intelli- gent patriot, whose sole desire is the common weal of the common country of both, is bound to look, not alone to the immediate practical measures urged and opposed by the respective parties, but also to the general characters of the parties themselvesthe tone of political mo- rals pervading their organization, as manifested by their conductand the spirit and manner in which each prosecutes the contest they are waging for the possession of power. This is a comparison which, in reference to the present state of our politics and our parties, we can proudly and fearlessly challenge; nor could we ask anything better than to stake upon it the issue of the whole controversy. But equally strong upon either of these grounds as is the cause we maintain, we shall endeavour to combine a rapid general view of the outlines of both. There has never been a period, within the history of our politics, which has exhibited the two contending parties in a contrast more advantageous to the Democratic side, in every point of view, than the present. The unfavorable tendency of the long possession of power, upon the political morals of a party, has been abundantly counteracted by severe chastenings of adversity; by the powerful opposition with which we have had to wage an unceasing struggle; and by the ne- cessity which the circumstances of the times have imposed upon us, as the only means of safety, of retempering our democracy in a re- currence to the simple purity of its original principlesof recombining a new party organization, animated by a new spirit, and fresh with the new vigor and ardor of a generous youth, in the place of an old one, exhausted by the natural progress of decay, and finally exploded by the great political and commercial convulsion which burst within the first few months of Mr. Van Burens Presidential term. The Democratic party is at this moment, we are perfectly satisfied, in as pure and healthy a state as if, instead of having been in office for three Presidential terms, it were just fresh from the salutary influence always produced upon it by a purgatorial period of minority and opposition. In our reorganization on the basis of the Presidents noble Message of the Extra Session, all that large body which is so apt to overgrow the surface of our partythe mere~ politiciansthe salaried patriots 1840.] The Presidential Contest. 197 who have become enervated by long repose on the luxurious couches of official rank and powerthe old managers who have from time immemorial enjoyed and abused a monopoly of the honors and advan- tages of directing the movement of a dominant partyand that consi- derable class of men whose democratic spirit never survives the days of their youth and poverty; who always begin to grow timid and dis- trustful of the noble principles of their original faith, in exact propor- tion as their wealth begins to wax, and their years begin to wane; fearful of all bold and unfamiliar truth, and frighted out of their propriety by every bugbear phantom, of the dangers and horrors of popular licentiousness, which it is the perpetual vocation of the anti- democratic party to conjure upalL these, like the old feathers of the bird, or the old skin of the serpent, were cast off, from that ascendency in the party which long usage and the memory of their better days had given them, by the shock of the trying times of which we speak. A large proportion of them passed over easily and smoothly, by a natural process of transition, to the ranks of our opponents. Of this we make no complaint. Many have returned to us after a period of wavering, of honest doubt, and are willingly welcomed backbut not to their old places. They find there a n& w order of things. They find a new spirit animating their old partya new tone pervading it a spirit of a more pure and enthusiastic democracy, a tone of bold and manly freedom of thought and speech, dealing only with large and liberal principles, comparatively indifferent to mere petty partisan interests, and holding in contempt the old system of according to the regular usages of the party. They find everywhere at the head of its movement a new set, of young men, sincere, ardent, and disinte- rested in their desire to promote the progress of democratic reform who appeal only to those great principles which cannot fail to find a response in the popular heart, and who would be as prompt to oppose and denounce the Administration if it should prove false to those prin- ciples, as they are now earnest in support of it and them. Never, we repeat, has our party been in a more pure and healthy state1-never more worthy of its noble old namethan at the present moment. The manner in which the present Presidential contest is conducted on our side finely illustrates the truth of this remark. All, with us, is open and transparent to the public eye. We have no reserva- tionsno deceptions. On every one of the leading topics of the times, we make the most clear and unequivocal declarations of our opinions and intentions. Whether from friend or foe, our candidate returns a frank and explicit answer to every interrogatory addressed to him. And all our public discussions are marked by a fine tone of manliness and truthfulness. Strong, grave, and earnest argumentcandid ap- peals to that intelligence of the people for which our respect is as sincere as it is profoundthese are the weapons with which alone we do our battle. We make no attempt to excite any other popular 198 The Presidential Contest. [September, feeling than the calm approbation of sober reason. We raise no hur- rahswe sing no songswe make no delusive promises addressed to the cupidity of various interests or classeswe scorn all resort to any of the trickery of political clap-trap, designed for the level of the presumed ignorance of the common heiA, which constitutes so large a part of the proceedings of our opponents at all their great popular assemblages. How glaring, on the other hand, the contrast of the manner in which the struggle is conducted by the Whigs! There is no dema- gogneism so low as that of an aristocratic party which courts the suf- frage of a democracy it at heart despises. We do confess that we look upon the spectacle which the present contest between our two parties exhibits, to the triumphant derision of Europe, with a sense of shame and regret even deeper than the indignation which it at the same time arouses. The present electioneering campaign of the Whig Party is nothing short of High Treason to the whole spirit of the institutions of their and our country. Had it been projected with an express view to the object so dear to the opponents of human liberty everywhere, of bringing into contempt all ideas of popular self-government and democratic equality, it could not have been more effectually adapted to that end. And here we beg the reader to bear in mind the precise sense in which we use the expression the Whig Party, when characteri- zing them in the strong language which the truth here extorts reluctant- ly from us. We do not mean its millions but its hundreds. We do not mean its voters but its politicians. We mean the managers and lea- ders of-its party organization; not the broad mass who have them- selves no sinister objects of ambition or cupidity to subserve, and who are only misled and mystified by the clamor and the arts. of those who have-but that large class of men, scattered over the whole country, who are contending for the spoils of victory, whether as aspirants for the countless prizes of political office which will be brought within their grasp by the overthrow of the party now in the incumbency of them, or as speculators deeply involved in the embar- rassments which have grown out of the late expansion and collapse of the Credit System, who see in a new inflation of its bubble, how- ever brief its duration, the only means of extrication from a position which must be certain ruin if the firm and healthy policy of the present Administration is sustained at the coming election by the People. Both of these classes swarm over the countrya more fatal plague than any that afflicted Egypt of oldboth characters being united in vast numbers of individuals. These are the men whom, in our present use of the phrase, we mean by the Whig Party. These are the men who preside over its organizationwho animate and lead its movementthe destined recipients of all the advantages and profits of successwho labor night and day, without pause, with- 184O~] The Presidential Contest. 199 out fatigue, through the press, from the stump, from the legislative floor, by high-way and by-way, to stimulate that factitious excitement their own efforts have artificially createdthe men who give it that whole tone and character which we now reprobate. Nor must we be understood as intending offensive personal dis- paragement to any individuals ia what we may say of this party. Among the very classes to whom the strongest severity of our lan- guage may be directly applicable, are undoubtedly many for whom in all the ordinary relations of private life we entertain respect and es- teem. The general characteristics of the party, as proved and illus- trated by their conduct, remain unaffected by such exceptions. The reader may take whatever explanation may be most satisfactory to him, without a resort to impeachment of the integrity of private mo- rals, for the extraordinary fact that men of character and talent can be found, among the active and prominent politicians on the Whig side, to disgrace the one and prostitute the other, in the manner we now daily witness, in the fierce assault they are waging against the Administration. The best that we can find consists in the fact of the radical anti-democratic spirit which lies at the bottom of the whole system of political doctrine and morals of that party. Sincerely im- bued with a conviction of the incapacity of the senseless herd for in- telligent self-government, they easily persuade themselves that the merit of the end redeems the immorality of the meansthat it is justifiable to humbug the people for their own goodand that the use of the unworthy and dishonest arts, by their party, which they tacitly sanction, even when they may refrain in some instances from personal participation in them, is only intended to save the country from the worse evils of the designs which they impute to us their ad- versaries. To the condition of political demoralization which seems to pervade this party, our past annals present no parallel. We do not exult over thiswe take no pleasure in exposing itwe only deplore it. It fills us equally with pain and shame. Where is it, in our political system, that the cause of disease resides from which proceeds this frightfully morbid and corrupt state of things? Whatever it may beconnecting itself closely as it appears to do with the detestable poison of party spiritit is a far greater evil than any practical measure that any party could bring on the country; and is one of the most emphatic of the evidences of which there is no scarcity, of the necessity, after its half-century of trial, of some material reform or other in the political constitution under the operation of which it has grown up to its present magnitude. Was there ever an imposture more gross than that of their present attitude before the people? Truly, it tasks our temper to witness it with patience. Is it the democratic partythe party which has always been charged by its opponents with relying upon the ignorance 200 The Presidential Contest. [September, of the vulgar many, rather than upon the superior intelligence of the enlightened and wealthy fewis it the democratic party that is thus addressing its appeals only to the presumed capacity of the untaught and unthinking mass ?that takes for its emblem and badge the log cabin~~* the abode of the rudest poverty and toil ?that establishes the rallying places of its popular organization in riotous bar-rooms, under the sign of a barrel of hard cider, from which preparatory beverage the transition is so easy and convenient, to the vast variety of more promptly intoxicating drinks that tempt the youthful Whig in placards from the walls, by names under which it becomes almost a duty of party loyalty to try them, such as Tyler Punch or Tippe- canoe Julep, or doubly irresistible, as Tip and rry ? Is it the democratic party which, while it gathers it tens and twenties of thou- sands together, to stimulate a mutual sympathy of party excitement, at the same time amuses them with the silliest of songs, and dismisses them without anything resembling a distinct exposition of political principles, or avowed party objects? Is it the democratic party that is striving to drown in a wild tumult of popnlar shouts and hurrahs all that calm and intelligent discussion of the great issues at stake, on which alone should depend the decision of so ,momentous a question, by a people free, enlightened and capable of self-government, as we pretend to be? Truly indeed, we may well repeat, there is no de- magogueism like that of an aristocratic party in a democratic country. The best of the joke is the impudent gravity with which, while the Whigs lay claim to our name and character, as the party of popu- lar liberty and progress, they attempt through their myriad presses and orators to fasten upon us their own, of which the very act con- fesses their shame. Because a very small number of individuals, conspicuous for their very rarity, Federalists in their early youth, have obeyed the general movement and direction of the American mind, and have been made Democrats by experience and reflection, we are now, forsooth, the Federal party !in spite of the broad facts that ninety-nine hundredths of that party still swell the ranks of our opponentsthat all the old Federal States are still strongly Whig and that on all the leading questions that divide the parties our uniform: policy is that of the strictest construction of the Constitution and the narrowest limitation ~of the powers of the General Government; in opposition to the latitudinarian method of interpretation which aims to create out of that instrument a powerful and splendid centralized * It is not true that these well known catch-words were adopted by the Whigs from a sneer that fell from the lips of some individual of the Democratic party. It would have been strangely inconsistent with the whole spirit of his political school had such been the case. The authorship of them is due, as we are informed, to a friend of Mr. Clay, who, in this expression of intended contempt, absurd as was its application to General Harrison, gave vent to the exasperation awakened by the en- grateful abandonment of the former, at Harrisburb, by the party of which he had so long been the recognised head. 1840.1 The Presidential Contest. 201 government, which would rack the Union to pieces in less than ten years. The recklessness of all principle and truth evinced in their whole system of attack upon the Administration, has certainly reached a point unknown to any of our parties heretofore. Witness, for exam- ple, the absurd humbug of the standing arm~,i which they impute to Mr. Van Buren the design to raise, with a view to surrounding with a rampart of bayonets that tyranny which it is the assumed object of the Independent Treasury to establish. We should regard it as an insult to the intelligence of our readers were we to bestow upon this ridiculous charge any other notice than the silence of the most sincere contempt. And yet, by force of distortion and exaggerationboth in the most monstrous degreethey did certainly succeed for a time in creating a panic in the public mind in some quarters, on this topic, which has seriously influenced the elections of the present year. And then, again, that famous or rather infamous speech relating to the internal arrangements of the Presidential mansionthe delivery of which excited the general contempt ~nd disgust of the very politi- cal friends of its authorwhich has been truly styled and proved an omnibus of lies but of which that party have not scrupled to as~ sume the disgrace by deluging many dist~icts of the country with its foul flood of falsehood! Not far above the level of the disgrace of this speech is that of the charge of which so industrious a use has been made against us, of a policy hostile to the laboring classes, and designed to reduce their condition and the compensation of their toil to that of the wretched operatives who are ground down to the dust beneath the oppressions and misgovernment of foreign monarchies. We might refer, too, to the shameless use which has been made at the South of the famous Hooe case, to exhibit the President in the light of having approved the condemnation of an officer in the Navy by a court martial on the testimony of negro witnesses, in the face of the truth, perfectly known to the authors of the charge, that the evidence in question was totally immaterial, and that the sentence of the court (itself composed of Southern officers) was founded solely upon ample and unimpeached testimony of white witnesses. And to add but one more instance to ~crown tIme climax of those we have specified, have we not seen a pamphlet, from the pen of a Reverend political penny-a-liner, circulated in countless thousands, of which the opening paragraph puts the question at issue between tIme two par- ties as being that of Credit or No Credit, illustrating it by supposing the case of a poor man who has broken his leg, to whom the physi- cian does not hesitate to come promptly on credit under the policy of the one party, while under that of the other the sufferer is allowed to die for want of the cash on hand for payment for his services in advance! A day of dishonor to democratic institutions, and of shame and lamentation to all their true friends, would it be, that should witness M 2 202 The Presidential Contest. [September, the success of such a party, pursued in such a spirit, and attained by such means. It i~ already enough of disgrace that the attempt should have been madethat a great party should have become so demoral- ized, under the working of our political system, as to sustain and sanction a plan of electioneering cam pa4,n, of such a character as that of which we l~ave but imperfectly sketched an outline. In the mere fact that it was not at once frowned down by an overwhelming popular indignationthat on the contrary it was attended with such a seeming show of success as has filled its authors with their present inflation of triumphant confidencethat it has caused the minds of some honest democrats, less firmly rooted in their convictions than others, to waver in their high arid holy faith, and to begin to fear that the people were about after all to falsify the confidence they had always reposed in their capacity for intelligent judgment and self- governmentin this alone is already a cause of triumph and of sneer to the enemies of democracy and of America in other countries, which we deeply regret should have been given. But there is something more to be done. This great national insult must be atoned for by a meet punishment. Europe must see, that, whatever advantages of pecuniary distress and reduction of prices may accompany them, such means cannot command success. And still higher in importance, the pernicious future influence of such a precedent upon our own politics must be counteracted, by the present defeat of its authors, and by the perpetual obloquy which must rest upon its memory. We had almost said that this is the sole reason for the solicitude we entertain for the satisfactory issue of the present contest. It is certainly the principal one; for we have but little fearnow that the Independent Treasury is establishedthat any administration which General Harrison could organize could do the country any practical harm by its measures, comparable with the moral evil bequeathed by the example of his election, supposing the possibility of such an event. Imbecile and incoherent, because destitute of any vitality of animating principlean administration of intrigue, shift, and perpe- tually trimming expediencyit would of necessity soon find itself in a miserable minority, as impotent for mischief as for good. But there are very high and grave reasons, with reference to the prosperity and progress of the countryas well as to the permanent political health of our system of institutions, now in a fair way of secure establish- mentwhich amount to a magnitude not to be regarded as secondary to any other consideration. Our remaining space ~nd time admit only of a brief allusion to some of them. Mr. Van Burens re-election sets at rest the agitation which has for so many years harassed the country, growing out of the cunnexion between the Federal Government and the Banking System. The di.~ vorce of that illegitimate connexion becomes by that event for ever sealed and ratified. We are safe then, not merely from the danger of 1840.] The Presidential Contest. 203 a renexval of it, but from the almost equal evil of an attempt by a powerful party to effect that object. The moderating influence of that great reform on some of the worst features of the times will soon be- gin to make itself felt. Its action on the currency, slight as it may be, will tend toward a stability heretofore unknown. There is no danger of surplus revenue, or of accumulation of specie. Of official defal- cation the danger is reduced to the minimum possibility, under the severe provisions which form part of the new fiscal system. We have now reached t.he close of the long agony which, by a higher uecessity than governments or laws could influence, has attended the recent collapse of the expanded Credit System. A new and efficient system of business has already organized itself on safer and sounder principles than that which so lately, after running the country so deeply into debt, exhausted itself by its own morbid overaction. A wise and just bankrupt law will be matured at the coming session of Congress,un- der which all the old festering sores of past insolvencies will clear themselves away; and the whole field lies open before us for a career of true and healthy prosperity along which we can see no obstacle or threatening danger. And meanwhile our time and thoughts will be free for the prosecution of such political reforms, disconnected with financial interests, as time has undeniably proved necessary in our system of government; especially with a view to diminish the power nnd splendor of the Executive Department of the Federal Govern- mentan object, we are well satisfied, second to none in importance. On the revision of the tariff, too, we are sure of such a predominance of the principles of the Free-Trade and State-Rights schools as will preclude any fear of the manifold evils of a protective tariff being again brought upon the country, to prove a bane to all sections of it, a blessing to none, and to endanger again the cohesion of the great national masses which now compose the Union. On the other hand, the success of the Whigs would forfeit a large portion of all that we have so laboriously and painfully gained during the last few years. We say nothing of the formidable aspect which the dark cloud of Abolitionism, now hanging so threateningly over the Union, would then assume. The school of centralization, of lati- ~udinarian construction, would go into power, and would exert a strong and bad influence upon the tariff discussion and legislation in Congress. For years we should be still convulsed with the agitations attendant upon the introduction of banks and business into the midst of the stormy strifes of politics. Whether a fresh expansion of the bubble of credit could be effected, we do not know; that it would be strenu- ously attempted, there can be no doubt. In one form or another a vast and formidable effort will be made to transfer the debts of the States to the Federal Governmentwhether by a direct assumption and funding, accompanied with the corresponding machinery of a

George Sumner, Esq. Sumner, George, Esq. The Present Condition of Greece 204-226

204 The Present Conditien of Greece. [September, new national bank, or else by the distribution among the States of the proceeds of the public lands, as a fund for the payment of their inte- resta fund to be supplied by an increase of indirect taxation through the Custom House. The whole National Bank battle will have to be fought over again. Such an institution cannot be re-established, but the country may suffer equal evils in the vain effort to revive it, as its dying struggles have occasioned. No prospect of peace, no chance of tranquillity, in any of the departments of business or poli- tics, would lie before us. All would still be perpetual strife, perpetual instability. The flames of party spirit would continue to rage through- out the country as violently as before. So deep an indignation would pervade the Democratic party, that it would certainly cast itself at once into an opposition as fierce as that with which it has been so long contending; whereas the continued maintenance of its ascen- dancy would speedily, we have little doubt, lead to a new era of repose and harmonythe old opposition dissolving itself, and an inter- val of tranquillity ensuing, to be followed by a gradual recombination of future parties on new grounds of division. Of the success of the Whigs we have, however, no apprehension. It is an impossibility in the nature of things. They do indeed die hard. Their present conclusive effort is but the last flurry~ of the whale. The most undivided devotion of labor and vigilance is neces- sary to the Democratic Party to maintain its hard won and hard de- fended position. But this will not be wanting, and we shall soon interchange our triumphant congratulations on a victory on which, we are profoundly convinced, depend for indefinite years many of the )~iighest and best interests of our common country. THE PRESENT CONDITION OP GREECE. BY GEORGE SUMNER, E5Q. [THE following paper is a letter addressed by Mr. George Sumner of Boston to a friend in that city. Mr. Sumner has been two years and a half abroad, during which time he has travelled through Rus- sia, Circassia, Syria, Egypt, and Greece, diverging from the great highways of travel, and visiting many places where probably no Ame- rican has before been. He has enjoyed uncommon opportunities for observation, and the following familiar letter, written while travelling, is a proof of the industry and success with which he has improved them. It contains a great deal of valuable information which being gathered on the spot, may be relied upon as authentic.] 1840.] The Present Condition of Greece. 205 Athens, March, 1840. Mv DEAR H, Iv is a long, long time since I received your letter, written from the Athens of America, and although my answer comes but late, I trust that it will not be the less acceptable for having been written in the Athens of the Old World. And here I am in the city hallowed by so many glorious recollections, so many thousand associations the city of which I had so often read, so often thought, and whose position I had so often studied, little imagining that my feet were ever destined to tread upon its sacred soil. The hundred statues which in former days decorated every street are gonethe glorious labor of Praxitetes in ivory and gold is lost but the spot remains the same. The frowning walls of the Acropolis still stand embrowned with age, and only more interesting from tht~ bruises which they bear as evidences of many shocks of arms. The rock of the Areopagus, upon which the judges nightly climbed to hold their secret sessionsand upon which at a later day stood St. Paul, when addressing the men of Athensis still here. r~ he groves of the Academy are yet as green and as flourishing as when Plato taught beneath their shade ; and the air still blows as refreshingly over the Lyceum, as when Aristotle and his i3eripatetics walked upon the banks of the Ilissus, within its bounds. I might strut for an hour or two in this way upon stilts, but I shall kick them~from under me at once, and come down most prosaically to the earth. I shall let the past go, and talk to you of Greece as it is. I have always found that an American, born in the country of magni- ficent distances, of railroads and of fast tiavelling, must reduce and concentrate his ideas a great deal on coming abroad, if he wish to save his classical reminiscences from many a severe shock. It is tbe want of the faculty to do this, which produces such disappointment in many on seeing how small a portion of ground is covered by spots which in history occupy so large a space. Marathona plain not too great for a Yankee militia muster; and Salamis, with its strait in which the 3000 ships of Xerxes were taken or put to flighta nar- row strip of water, scarce lavge enough for two frigates to manceuvre in abreast! The historian tells us, that Plato, when Socrates was dead, deter- mined to travel into distant parts, in order to obtain by the study of mankind in other places that knowledge which he could no longer derive from his former master at home. His first journey was to Mc- gara; and here, continues the account, having carefully observed, re- flected, and collected information, he made another journey, still more distant, to Thebes. Do not call me profane for having done the ac- tion, but this journey of Plato to Megara, which the chronicle records with as much preamble as in our days would be used for a voyage of 0 206 The Present Condition oJ Greece. [September, discovery round the globe, I made a few days since, jumping on my horse at Athens in the morning and arriving at Megara before noon; and the journey to Thebes, which took our philosopher a long time, is but a ride of twenty-five miles in another direction. One must abso- lutely drive far away all ideas of steam-engines, locomotives, and thirty miles an hour; and this, not only in Greece, but in all parts of the East which have been the scenes of events recorded by either Pagan or Christian writers. When in Palestine, not long since, I had a proof of this at the small village of Beir, which is the spot where Mary and Joseph first discovered the loss of the infant Jesus when on their return from Jerusalem to Nazareth. They, with their friends, had completed their first days journey when they arrived at Beir. I. with an Arab horse it is true, but moving at a slow pace, passed through the town and reached the holy City in little more than an hour. But let me turn from this and speak of Greece, of a country, and of a people, growing under, and deceived by a bad government, the bungling contrivance of their European friends. Greece has always had within herself an element strong enough to break down the best institutionsthe perpetual dissensions and personal jealousies of the ancient and modern Greeks. She has been and is her own worst enemy; but she has found one nearly as great in the embrace of her pretended friends. We hear a great deal of the debt of gratitude which the nation owes to Europe. Let it not be overrated. A more cold-blooded, selfish policy, than was pursued by the different Euro- pean courts toward the rising state, cannot be shown in history. England threw all possible obstacles in the way of an oppressed peo- 1)10 struggling for liberty; English merchant vessels furnished provb sions to the enemies of Greece; and English flags were seen flying over the transport ships which brought into Greece the military stores of Ibrahim Pachas invading Egyptian army. An English Lord Com- missioner of the Jonian Islands protected rfurkish vessels by the neutrality of Corfou, and at the same time outlawed and authorized the capture of any Greek vessels that appeared within the limits of his jurisdiction. France lent no aid, and her shipsunder the pre- tence of protecting the Greek Catholics at Syra, who had made a secret contract with the Turks to betray their own brethrenfired upon and maltreated many Greeks, who, as the French said, intended to take part in the punishment of this treachery.* Austria constantly throughout did all in her power to support the Turks; her vessels, * At the Island of Syra is a Catholic Bishop, the only one in Greece; he is also the Popes Legate. This bishopric is one of the oldest in the Levant, having been founded under the old Byzantine emperors more than 1000 years ago. During the time of the Venetian rule in the East, it was changed from Greek to Catholic; and so it has continued ever sincethe Greek Catholics seeming to have their religious hatred to the Greek church increased by finding its members in those who are born 1840.] The Present Condition oJ Greece. 207 protected by men-of-war, throwing provisions into those places which were besieged by the Greeks. And this was the policy pursued by all for a lOflb time. The commerce of a rising state was feared, and Austria, who had the manliness to acknowledge what the others felt ashamed to confess, allowed that it was for the interest of her people and of the other states to keep the Greeks down, that a new nation might not bring its flag in rivalry with theirs in the carrying trade of the Mediterranean. And such were the acts of sympaihy from Euro- pean courts for which Greece is now called upon to be grateful. To the people of these nations she is under obligation, although the large sums raised by private subscriptions throughout all parts of Europe and in America, served to enrich others quite as much as to aid the people and the cause for which they were intended. But it would be difficult to show any obligation that she owes to the governments. The assistance rendered was from purely selfish motives, and cam& at a time when, by an almost hopeless struggle, they had nearly esta- blished themselves. It was then that France and England, who, as well as the smaller European courts, had used all the means in their power, short of overt hostilities, to prostrate anew the Greeks, on see- ing that she was likely to succeed and establish herself among the states of the earth, stepped in at the eleventh hour, nominally to give assistance, but really to carry out their selfish system, by founding a claim, on account of the services which they might render, to the future dispositon of the country; and also to prevent, by engaging a third power in the struggle, either of the great European States from getting to itself the exclusive advantage to be derived from the politi- cal existence of the new state. I have before me copies of the different treaties of European courts concerning Greece, as well as of the diplomatic acts and correspon.. dence which preceded and led to the foundation of the new kingdom. These have been collected together from the archives of the foreign department at Athens, and form a good key to the policy of other nations in regard to Greece. To begin, we have the battle of Nava- rino, which is looked upon generally as the great act that delivered and live upon the same spot with themselves. I visited the archbishop when at Syra, and spent a day at his palace and in his town, which is separated from that occupied by the orthodox Greeks. He is a Piedmontese. It chilled my blood to hear the wretches of this place, who supposed, from my wearing a Frank coat and trowsers, that I must be a Catholic, describe the manner in which they had con- trived to give information to the Turks of the movements of those Greeks who be- longed to the other church; and also to hear them speak of the comfortable houses which by playing the traitor they had secured to themselves, and enjoyed while their brethren of the other churchmany of them the refugees from the massacre of Sciowere living in caves among the rocks, and literally eating the earth to appease the gnawings of famine. On the walls of the cathedral are hung the names of the officers and the entire muster-roll of a French brig-of-war, which came to their protection when their treason was once about to meet its propet re~ ward. 208 The Present Condition of Greece. [September~ Greece. A most indefinite idea would seem to prevail of the motives of this battle, and the results which ensued from it, if we were to judge from the shoutings and illuminations that attended its announce- ment in different places, as also from the tone of self-complacency in which it is still alluded to by many who had part in it. The treaty of 6th of July, 1827, led directly to that battle, and this treaty was the first step taken in regard to Greece by the combined courts of Eng~ land, France, and Russia, who, as the preamble says, were pene- trated with the necessity of putting an end to the bloody struggle, which, in giving up the Greek provinces and islands of the Archipe- lago to all the disorders of anarchy, brought constantly new shackles upon the commerce of the European states, and gave rise to piracies which not only exposed the subjects of the high-contracting parties to considerable losses, but farther required of them burdensome mea- sures of surveillance and of repression. rilhe preamble does not surely promise much for Greece ; and the articles that follow give less hope, for they offer to mediate between Greece and Turkey on con- dition that the former shall pay an annual tribute, and shall recognise the Sultan, as a Seigneur Suzerain, or Lord Paramount. Another article was to the effect, that, if in one month from the publication of the treaty an armistice was not established and adhered to between the two contending parties, the high contracting powers declared to both Greek and Turk that they should interfere with all the means that circumstances might suggest, to prevent any collision, or hostile acts, and should also employ all their means to accomplish this object, without, at the same time, joining either contending party in the hos- tilities. And in pursuance of the terms of this treaty, the fleet of the allied powers, equally ready to exercise its force upon Turk or Greek, met and destroyed the rpurkish and Egyptian fleet at Navarino. They had encountered this first, and therefore had destroyed it, though by the terms of the treaty they were as much boun& to destroy the Greek fleetif they could have caught it. In one of the conferences which ensued between the ministers of the allied powers at London, a copy of the protocol of which was communicated to the Greek Government, is the following curious pas- sage, in which they say, without so much as asking the consent or opinion of Greece : It will be proposed to the Ottoman Porte, in the name of the three courts, that the Greeks shall pay to the Porte an annual tribute of 1,500,000 Turkish piastres. They also propose, still without consulting the Greeks, where the boundaries shall be fixed; and, farther, in regard to the government, declare that the ruler shall be a Christian prince, whose authority shall be hereditary; but t~to mark distinctly the relation of vassalage in which Greece stands toward the Ottoman Empire, it is understood that beyond the payment of an annual tribute, each ruler of Greece, when the hereditary authority devolves upon him, shall receive his investiture from the Porte~ and shall 1840.1 Tile Present Condition of Greece. 209 pay to tile Sultan a year of supplementary tribute. And these were the degrading conditions of servitude which, after a desperate and bloody struggle of seven years to secure her independence, Greece was about to have imposed upon her by her friends. The Greek government, through Capo dJstrias, made an admirable reply to this protocol, hoping, as they said, that before the conditions of their ser- vitude were permanently fixed, Greece herself might be allowed a small voice in their arrangement. The conference of ~vhich these no- ble propositions were the result took place on the 22d of March, 1 829~ It was agreed that they should be communicated to the Porte by the ambassadors of England and France: Russia declining to take part in this communication, although agreeing to abide by the results. She had another system of diplomacy. It was then that the Russian army, under Diebitsch, was on its march to Constantinople, and a few months after, while the two ambassadors were fruitlessly endeavoring to make themselves heard by the Porte, Russia alone, by her treaty of Adrianopole, forced from the Sultan a declaration that he would concur entirely ia all the determinations that might be taken by the conference of the three powers at London, in regard to Greece. Copies of this declaration the Porte was obliged by Russia to communicate to the ambassadors of France and England at Con- stantinople, who transmitted them to London, so that at the next conference, held on the 3d of February, 1830, when the plenipoten- tiaries of the three powers appeared, each with a copy of that de- claration of the Sultan which Russia had secured for them, the first clause with which they commenced was: Greece shall form an independent state, and enjoy all the rights and privilegespolitical, administrative, and commercialwhich pertain to a complete inde- pendence. The limits of the new state were then defined, and the selection of a sovereign was deferred until a future day. It was not long after, that the second son of the King of Bavaria was chosen to be King of Greece; and the foundations were laid of that government, which has in many of its acts shown an imbecility and weakness which are only exceeded by the murmurs and execrations of those who are its subjects. The Greeks at the present day curse the time when they passed under Bavarian rule. At every street corner you hear their murmurs of discontent. A foreign officer in the service is looked upon with bitterest hatred. The king is ridiculedthe acts of his ministers despised. Foreigners are charged with consuming the sub- stance of the state, and the government is charged with conniving at it. Much, far too much, of this is true, but the complaints of the lower classes among the Greeks must be weighed well. The French merchant at Athens was nearly right in his judgment, when he declared to Lord Byron that the modern Greeks were the same discontented canaille as in the time of Themistocles. Byron vOL. viii. NO. xxxIII.SEPTE1unER, 1840. N ZIG The Present Condition of Greece. [September, laughed at this; but he was at that moment a better poet than politi- cian, and his ideas of the people about him were colored by the recol- lection of the glories, rather than of the crimes, of their ancestors. It would be difficult to find a more degraded set of beings, than exis among the lower orders of the modern Greeksmen full of low cun- ning, selfishness, vice, fraud, and revengeever ready to deceive, and prompt upon the slightest occasion to quarrel, either with their com- rades or their rulers. It was a sensible remark by Rogers, the poet, that nations are naturally patient and long suffering, and seldom rise in rebellion till they are so degraded by a bad government as to be almost incapable of a good one. Although the government of Greece is fai from possessing the latter quality, yet the Greeks, or many of them, accustomed through so many ages to the bad rule of their masters, are incapable of appreciating what good they have; and the old quality of their ancestors, perpetual dissension, and wrangling with their chiefs7 has certainly descended to them. Had there been any union during their long war, the struggle would have ended at a much earlier day; but selfishness and personal jealousy kept all apart, and Colocotroni, as also many other of the principal chiefs, fought, not so much to aid the general cause and to assist ir~ establishing a good government, as to secure plunder and personal advantage to themselves. Men who live by disorder and robbery look with an evil eye upon anything which confines them within rules; and many of the chiefs in the war having been klefts or mountain robbers, find with the esta- blishment of a regular government their occupation gone. They can- not rob, and they therefore abuse the power which restrains them. The Greek pirates of the Archipelago, who find themselves captured if engaged in what had before been to them a lawful pursuit, abuso the government and the regulations which it has imposed for the establishment and security of an honest commerce. These are tho uneducated. But Athens has among its rising population a large number of young men, the sons of rich Greek merchants of Con- stantinople and other pads of Turkey, who, when the massacre of their countrymen was commenced in these places, sent their children to Paris and other European cities to be educated. Those who left as infants are now returning, some to do good service to the state; but many of them only half educated, yet possessing a good deal of superficial information, added to a most profound estimate of their own importance and political knowledge. A young mens whig committee of safety in Boston could hardly be more confident in their perfect ability to regulate the machine of state, than are these young Athenians; neither could they be much more elegant and classical in their abuse of the government which is over them. There are many men who, without having any particular merit themselves, censure tho government from envy of those who hold offices under it; there are ethers who, having sacrificed all their property for the country, claiw 1840.J The Present Condition of Greece. 211 that the profits of its places should not be thrown away ,upon foreigm ers; and there are also among the modern Greeks men of good minds and brilliant talents, who look with scarce concealed distrust and ill-feeling at the ruinous course taken by the new king and his advisers. And now let us come to the government, and see whether there is foundation for all these complaints. At the time of the accession of King Otho, a loan of sixty millions of francs was effected for the benefit of the new monarchy then just coming into action. The king came to the throne a minor. A regency was formed in Bavaria, of men perfectly ignorant of the Greek characterignorant of the steps necessary to pursue to bring forward a new countryignorant, as their acts have shown, of the commonest principles of political economy. Otho brought with him 3,500 Bavarian troops; the knowledge that there were sixty millions to be disposed of brought hither a greater number of Bavarian office huntersand Greece, the new kingdom7 appeared for a time like a German Botany Bay. Many friends of the regency were to be provided with places; to do this, new and useless offices were created, all of which were given to foreigners. Instead of adopting a responsible system of government, one in which the officers should be fe..w, and the labor in consequence quickly per- formeda system particularly well adapted in its working to the Greeks, who from their quick intelligence seize readily upon all the points of a difficult casethe old exploded plan of the German states was adopted, where the interminable system of reports from one offi- cer to another, and the total absence of decision on the part of all, are perhaps rendered in some degree necessary by the general slow- ness of comprehension and dulness of the people. But the regency did not know or seemed to disregard the facts, that here this neces- sity did not prevail, and that the simpler the machinery of govern- ment the surer were its operationsthe fewer the wheels em- ployed, the less was the expenseand the less, too, the danger of a derangement in the parts. The consequence of this wretched sys- tem of reports is, that it is impossible to have business accomplished at any of the ministries without an almost endless delay. One officers province ceases, your case is not ended; he makes a report, another takes it up, reports, and hands it over to a third to make still another report; and thus does it continue, until a ream of expensive stamped paper may be consumed in reports upon the simplest affair. rfhis wretched system is now fastened upon the Greeks; so badly does it work that the accumulation of papers becomes in many cases too great to be examined, and the government of Greece, which started fresh almost yesterday, has hardly commenced its business of four years back. This is the fact. You will ask why this plan was adopt- ed. Partly from ignorance of a better method on the part of those sent to manage Greece, and partly to increase the revenue from 2l~2 The Present Condition of Greece. [September, stamped paper, and to give places, from the large number of officers that it requires, to a greater quantity of foreign retainers ; and these same motives have probably induced its continuance.* No wiser plan was adopted for the internal policy of the country; but in order to secure an immediate revenue, the most destructive im- positions were laid upon agriculture, more discouraging even than the uncertain demands of the old Turkish pachas. This is the worst part of the mismanagement in Greece; it was commenced under the regency, and Otho, who has been five years in full power, has done nothing to alter or improve the old system. A Greek farmer must give up one-tenth of his crops, and must carry them to the capital of the province in which he lives. To do this, he is forced to climb mountains, or cross beds of rivers, frequently for fifteen or twenty miles, carrying his produce with him upon mules. The expense of this expedition to pay his taxes, will in many cases more than consume the years profits. rhe Greek is shrewd enough soon to discover this, and he prefers to smoke his pipe at home and do nothing, rather than labor when he cannot reap the advantage. I saw myself a few days since, at one of the small Greek sea-ports, a specimen of the working of this wretched system in another way. Ship-builders were engaged in putting up two small vessels, and on my inquiring how they found the wood, which I saw growing at a little distance, for building, I was surprised by the reply, that the wood they used was not cut there, but was bought of the Turks and brought over from the eastern side of the Archipelago, the taxes of the go- vernment rendering their own wood too expensive. And this I found on examination to be true. The duty on foreign timber is only six per cent. on its value, while a man for cutting his own timber, upon his own ground, must pay fifteen per cent. on its value to the Govern- ment. And thus, by this inconceivable policy, not only are the natural productions of the country rendered unavailable, but her money, of which she has already too little, is drawn from her, to be placed in the hands of her old enemies the Turks. * A case in point occurs to me; it is that of George Wilson, an American sailor, who came out to this country with the frigate built by the Greeks in New York. He served as gunner on board during the whole war, and afterward until the ship was burned. The Hellas took many prizes, which were regularly condemned, and the proper portions awarded to the captors, among whom was Wilson. But he has never been paid. Ten years have gone by, and although the justice of Wilsons claim is fully allowed, yet he is put off from day to day, by a promise that his case will soon be examined and reported on. While poor Wilson is starving, the Bava- rian who scratches his head over his petition is filling himself with the bread which belongs to another. While in the Greek service, Wilson took a wife, and not ha- ving any other employment, since the close of the war, has made a little Leonidas, Epaminondas, Miltiades, and Aristides. Were it not for these he would, he says, drop his claim, and quit so ungrateful a place. And yet the Greeks who know Wilsons case, sympathize heartily with him, but the working of a bad government can never be depended upon. 1840.] The Present Condition of Greece. 213 But let these unwise and oppressive exactions go. The sixty millions of francs, the people are told, are all expended, and they cla- mor to know where they are gone. They look into the treasuryit is empty; they look abroad upon the countrythey see nothing to answer for the money which has flown. What an immense amount of good might have been effected by this sum, had it been wisely em- ployed! Had the government commenced by making roads in the in- terior, the communication with fertile spots would have been thrown open, agriculture encouraged, and an impulse given to enterprise. But ten years have gone bythe money has all been squanderedand we look in vain for this first evidence of the presence of a civilized government. One can scarce credit the fact, that as yet there is no passable road between any two principal points of Greece, and that the beds of rivers and narrow paths among the ~iountains are, with the exception of a few miles round some of the principal towns, the only roads to be found. In the wildest and most desolate parts of Syria, on the borders of the Houran desert, I have met with as great facili- ties for travelling as in civilized Greece! During all these ten years, the government has lent no helping hand to the introduction of useful arts or the encouragement of do- mestic industry. In fact, almost the only person who has done any- thing toward this, is an old French officer of Napoleon, who served during the whole of the Greek war, and who has since, while in command of the military prison at Nauplia, set his men at work; some weaving blankets for soldiers, some hammering iron, some doing this and others that, so that the old fortress of the Palamede, founded on the spot where lived the victim to the villainy of Ulysses, echoes to the sounds of useful industry. And throughout all Greece the sounds are scarce heard in any other place. Such an officer as this, who had given all that he had for Greece, and spent fifteen years in her service, one would suppose entitled to some reward. He remains a major, while hosts of Bavarian officers who have done nothing for the country have stepped over his shoulders. Dr. Howe will remem- ber his old companion-in-arms, Touret, who desires most heartily to shake hands with him across the ocean. Howe would have been of infinite service had he remained here, for he was active, intelligent, and disinterested. He commenced the establishment of a little colo- ny where agriculture and some simple useful arts were to be carried on; on his departure this goodly child of his begetting soon died, and the ruins of a few houses near Corinth were pointed out to me as the site of the American colony, a name given by the Greeks in compli- ment to the founder. I have told you some of the causes of complaint. Another is the personal expense which the king himself brings upon the people. While the country has absolutely nothing, and is in the lower deep of poverty, he is building a palace at Athens, which the old Pallakari 214 The Present Condition of Greece. [September, can ill bear to look upon. These gentry of the old schoolwho, so long as they have a spot of earth or of floor, seven feet square, to spread their carpets on, and a small brazier of coals to light their pipes at, know of no other wants as regards lodgmentcannot conceive why their king, who is, as they say, only one man, no taller than they, can require so costly a houselarge enough to contain a regiment, and to which, with a fancy truly Greek, they have already given the name of Noahs Ark. This, and also the sum which the king annually appropriates to himself, about $250,000, are the source of continual bickerings and jealousies. Could an assembly of the Pallakari talk to their sovereign with the same freedom which it was the custom of the Spanish Cortes to use toward their old kings, their first message would be very similar to that sent by this body to Alphonso X., in which they told him to diminish his establishment, for 150 maravedis per day were quite enough for his personal expenses, and as to his servants they must eat less. Even uow, complaints are made on this last score, and I remember hearing one of these knights of the snowy camise and shaggy capote, complain bitterly that the kings servants, who are all Bavarians, ate so much of the substance of the land, that there was nothing left for them. The king himself I believe to be animated with the best intentions, but he is youngnot yet twenty-fiveinexperienced, and completely ignorant of the world. His early education had been very deficient, and since his arrival in Greece, during the regency, it was much neglected. He has violated the promise which he made on coming to the throne, to give a Constitution to the people, and now he unites in himself all the powers of law-maker and law-executor. No des- pot has, within his sphere, more absolute authority than hea terrible power in the hands of a weak prince surrounded by bad advisers. These it has been the misfortune of Otho constantly to have, and although he works hard, and really desires the prosperity of the coun- try, yet it is difficult for him to discover, between the stupidity of his German advisers, and the cunning and self-interest of his Greek coun- sellors, the proper course to pursue to arrive at that object. His earnest desire for the welfare of the country is, I repeat, beyond a doubt: but he has not that quickness of comprehension universally possessed by the Greeks, and frequently goes blundering on in a wrong track where one of his commonest subjects could point him out a better way. The Greeks see all this, and complain bitterly that it is so. If we must have an absolute sovereign, say they, let it be one who knows how to use his power, and not a stupid, thick-headed German boy. It would be the choice, perhaps, between King Log and King Stork. You will recollect the remark of Hallam, that his- torians, when contemplating the acts of sovereigns, have generally more indulgence for splendid crimes than for the weaknesses of virtue. As it is with historians, so is it also evcrywhere the case with men 1840.] Tke Present Condition of Greece. 215 of fine talents and little principle. The Greeks, whose genius ena- bles them to discover the stupidity of their king, do not appreciate the goodness of heart which he really possesses. The king, I have said is absolute; he has never given the promised constitution, neither has he convoked a National Assembly. lie has for his advisers his ministry and his Council of State, besides a great many illegitimate wire-pullers behind the scenes. The Council of State is composed of an indefinite number of members, at present about twenty-five, each of whom is appointed by the king, and receives 700 drachmas per month, or just $1400 per year. For the great body there is no duty to perform. A few, and generally those the least capable to counsel the king, are selected by him for what is called extraordinary service, and the others, who are the men really able to give good advice, are completely laid up in ordinary. In this way many who might be of real service are thrust into a sort of honorable incompetency to do any good to their country. The number of ministers at present is five, viz,: Zograplios, Minis- ter of Foreign Affairs; Shmaltz, of War; Kriezis, of Marine; Paikos, of Justice ; Theokitaris, of Interior and Public Instruction. Those who are Greeks among this ministry are for the most part men of talent and political honesty. The former quality the Greeks will never lack; but the latter it is most difficult to find, and the king is perhaps forced to take refuge in stupidity, to avoid too great shrewdness. Zographos, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, is atpresent absent from Athens, having gone to Constantinople for the purpose of concluding the first com- mercial treaty between the old ruler and her rebel province. From some of the terms of this proposed treaty which have become known here, a great deal of popular clamor has been raised against him, and through this it is difficult for a stranger to see clearly the merits of the man. Whether this clamor is just or not, time will decide. We shall find, however, that in almost all cases the first treaty made between a new state and that whose allegiance she has shaken off has been received with discontent, and has exposed its author to abuse and insult. Look, for example, at Jays treaty of 1794 with England, and the riotous acts which in several citie~ accompanied its publication. This our first treaty was eleven years after the acknowledgment of our Independence. In 1840, just eleven years after the acknowledg- ment of her independence by the Sultan, Greece is about to conclude with him her first treaty, and from present appearances it seems doubt- ful whether either the treaty or the framer will meet with a more favorable reception than was the case with us. Some of the terms particularly obnoxious are, payment of money to the Porteit being re- ported that 200,000 drachmas are to be given for certain privileges and the recognition of the decision, in case of a disputed title to land between a Greek and a Turk, of an officer sent by the Porte to reside at Athens. 216 The Present Condztion of Greece. [September, Shmaltz, who is Minister of War, is the only Bavarian in the ministry. He was colonel of cavalry in Bavaria, and knew enough at home to act as quarter-master to his own regimentto know where and when forage could best be procuredand how much hay his horses should eat in a day. I do not say too much, when I state that this was the extent of his acquirements, and yct here he is Minister of War; in a country where, from the difficulties attending the organiza- tion of a new army, and from the great use to be made of irregular troops, the director of their movements should be a man of the broad- est military knowledge. The Minister of Marine, Kriezis, is a fine- hearted, honest old Hydriote sailor, who tells out bluntly to the king what he thinksa great quality in a minister here. Without belonging to any party or faction, all parties praise him. His popularity and his office are the meet rewards for his disinterested services during the war, when his time, his talents, and his purse, were freely given to benefit the country. Paikos, the Minister of Justice, is at present most severely and deservedly attacked by the journals. His was a delicate province, so to manage affairs that good laws might be brought into operation, and to make their wholesome effects apparent to the people, before the restraints attending them were felt. Perfect confidence in the sancti- ty of the law and its ability to protect the citizen should have been inspired; but this has not been done, and the present minister by lending his authority to the recent arrest of Kairis,* a Greek priest, without process or form of law, and in total contravention of those principles of justice which he and the king had promised to adhere to has ruined the confidence of the people in laws the first example of whose violation comes from their makers, and has also ruined his own character as a faithful minister of justice. The Minister of the Interior, Theokitaris, who has been recently appointed, is a man calculated to effect a great deal of good in his department. He was educated in Germany, and besides excellent * Kairis was a most amiable, intelligent, and enlightened Greek priest, who had travelled through Europe and in England. On his return he established a large school on the Island of Andros. He was perhaps too enlightened for those about him, and a charge was raised by some superstitious priests that he was teaching heresies in religion. On a charge like thisone which might perhaps be of some avail before the Spanish Inquisitionthe free government of Greece sent a brig-of-war to the island to arrest him, and afterward imprisoned him in a monasterywhere he remains until the present daywithout allowing him to hold intercourse with his friends. I have seen here his brother, who had come from a long distance to cheer Kairis with a brothers sympathy; but he was not allowed by the ignorant monks who guarded him, and afterward by officers at Athens, to hold any communication with him. There are regular laws for the punishment of heresy, but these have been disregarded, and Kairis is a prisoner without knowing upon what specific charge, or by what authority, and without any form of law. This is a most damning blot upon Greece and her barbarous government of foreigners. I can scarce keep cool when I think of it. Can I blame the Greeks for their execration of it! 1840.1 7ihe Present Conditio~t of Gredce. 217 talents is endowed with that greatest treasure in Greeceperfect honesty and singleness of motive. He belongs to no party, and hi~ appointment is hailed as a favorable omen by those who find a better standard of qualification for office in Jeffersons rules,* than in the influence of a faction or of a foreign power. Glarikis was the minis- ter who has been displaced by this appointment. The current of popular feeling is very strong against him now, on account of the affair of Kairis, the persecution of whom is supposed to have origin- ated xvith him, and also on account of his weakness in allowing the secret proceedings of a set of men calling themselves the Philorthodox Societywhich are supposed to have been of treasonable tendency to go on for a long time undiscovered. It is doubtful, I think, whether he knew of them himself, but he is charged with having been privy to them. When the public mind is highly excited, as at present, it is too apt to make charges upon false grounds, and it is difficult for one, especially a stranger, however disinterested he may be, to judge coolly and impartially at the moment. This I feel to be the case with regard to Glarikis. I know his early devotion to his country, and the talent which he has since displayed. He has doubtless committed some gross faults, yet I should be lothalthough my opinion Ixiay be of but little moment on one side or the otherto give a sweeping condemna- tion, until the clouds of popular commotion pass over, and his case can be more fairly viewed. I have spoken of the ministry; I come now to their departments. That of Finance, which formerly had a minister at its head, is now managed by a set of commissionerS appointed by the king. They have begun by adopting the old system of concealment used in des~ potic monarchies, so that a Greek knows nothing of the manner in which that revenue is expended which he has assisted to create. A budget is got up every year to send out of the country, but no Greek in the country can see it, and whether that which is sent abroad be true or false, is quite doubtful. The copies of the budget for 1839 were all printed, or rather lithographed, a few weeks since, in the night, an presence of the commissioners, who took possession of every sheet, and on leaving caused the stone to be broken and the writing effaced. Is not this a good beginning for a free state? The budget for 1836 was published, but since then the people are entirely in the dark as to the manner in which their money is expended. The department of Foreign Affairs has been engaged principally in securing commercial treaties with the different European states. A treaty was concluded with England in 1837 by Tricoupi, the Greek minister at London, through Lord Palmerston. A treaty with the United States was also concluded in 1838, by rl7ricoupi on the part of the Greek king, and Mr. Stevenson on the part of the President~ Austria, the old enemy of Greece, has come down with the most * Is he honest 3 Is he capable! Is he a friend to the Constitution 3 N2 218 The Present Condition of Greece. [September, liberal arrangements for Greek vessels trading to her ports, for the purpose of securing reciprocal advantages to her own subjects trading to Greece. It is only a short time since that a commercial treaty was concluded at Athens between Greece and PrussiaZographos acting for the king here, and the Prussian envoy directing the arrangement for his sovereign. The army of Greece is, according to the lists, composed of about 12,000 men, but this gives no accurate idea of the real state of the service, the number being swelled by a great many irregular troops and old retired soldiers of the war. The regular force is of about 4,800 soldiers, and 2,300 gens-darmes. There is one battalion of ar- tillery, divided into five companies, of 150 men each; these are not all full, the whole number being about 700; of these, one company is at Athens, one at Navarino, and three at Nauplia. The cavalry is in two divisions, of 300 each; these divisions are commanded by staff officers, and divided into squadrons of 150 men; they are all light cavalry, (lancers,) and although the horses are small and mean-looking, yet they are, like the Hungarian and Kosack horses, full of bottom, and capable of enduring great fatigue. The men, too, are good riders. The regular infantry is in five battalions, of 700 each, making when full 3,500 men. The number at present falls short. rrhere is no di- vision into regiments. The infantry are passably well drilled, and make a respectable appearance, all wearing the light blue Bavarian uniform. The tactics, system of discipline, and division of troops, are copied precisely from the Bavarians. The whole is in fact a Bava- rian army, the soldiers of which speak Greek. The troops are raised by conscription, principally from the country provinces, which is made under the direction of the Minister of the Interior, he receiving from the Minister of War a statement of the number of conscripts re- quired, and, after making the apportionment, entrusting the details to the governors of the interior provinces. The time of service is four years. As regards the conscription the French law prevails, and the same punishmentcondemnation to the public worksattends desertion. Cases of this occur constantly among the young Greeks, who can ill bear an exaction which even the Turks did not impose upon them; and for their trial, a military tribunal of seven judges, copied from those in France, exists at Nauplia; where those convicted are sent to the military prison of which I have already spoken. The Greek conscripts are very quick, and in four months a young recruit will go through all the exercise and manmuvres with as much steadiness as soldiers of two years practice in many other countries. There are the regular troops of the line; then there are the gens-darmes, 2,300 in number, divided into brigades of ten men each, and stationed in the cities and through the interior districts to preserve good order. They are in fact an armed police. There are generally twelve to fifteen 1840.1 The Present Condition of Greece. 219 brigades stationed in Athens, and at present there are 103 brigades, or 1,030 gens-darmes, at different points in the Peloponnesus. These corps are composed mostly of men who have served one term as soldiers. The service ranks higher, is more agreeable, and the pay greateralthough this, liko that of the soldier, is miserably small. A regular soldier has 40 lepta, or seven cents per day, with a ration of bread, costing 15 lepta, or two and a half centsso that nine and a half cents per day pays for all, his services and his food. The gens-darmes have 32 drachmas per month, including their rations, or about 17 cents per day. There are two companies of workmen, and two of pioneers, belong- ing to the regular troops; then there is the irregular infantry in eight battalions, of 200 men each, making 1,600 in all. There are the men of the mountains, who come down in their own dress, and bring their own arms, receiving from the king 30 drachmas ($5) per month, and about forty pounds of raw flour. Six battalions are now posted on the frontiers, and two are in the Peloponnesus to assist the gens-darmerze in repressing the robberies that continually occur there. These troops are called the orophilika. The rest of the army list is made up by different corps not in active service, such as the Phalanx for ex- ample, which is composed of all the old second rate chiefs of the war, who are still enrolled, and hold themselves ready for service in case of need, and also of other bodies somewhat similarly organized. There are no garrisoned fortresses of any consequence; the only ones are that of the Palamede at Nauplia, and the small fortress at Navarino. Most of the old Venetian fortresses in the Morea, which had been in some degree kept up by the Turks, are now going to ruin. The AcrocorinthusCoriuth so often lost and wonhas a garrison of an old lieutenant and two soldiers. The Greek navy is at present not large, but a good organization is commenced. In the fleet, as well as in the army, it was found at first a difficult step to break into regular service men who had always lived in common with, and had nearly as great a voice in the manage- ment of affairs as their commanders. But the sailors of the fleet are mostly young, and come to the service before they have had the habits of the older sailor fastened upon them, so that the crews of some ships, particularly that of the gallant Canaris, show a set of fine, tight, handsome young fellows, well rigged, and bearing th~ air of the true sailor. It is easy to see that this is the favorite service with the nation. It has no Bavarians in it. rrhe naval station is at Poros, where is a small navy-yard for building and repairs. The fleet at present is as follows Corvette Ludovico, 26 guns, in ordinary. Amelia, 22 on the coast of Sparta. Steamer Otho, 6 at the Pireus, for the kings excursions. Maximilian, 1 employed as a packettoNauplia and Syra. 220 The Present Condition of Greece. [September, Brig Athena(Minerva) 12 guns, flag-ship of Canaris at Syra~ Kimbros 10 in the Aegean Sea. Schr. Matilda 10 at 1oros. Brig Hercules 2 Schr. Lady Codrington 10 Leda 8 Smyrna 6 Argos 2 Karaskakis 2 and three others. Cutter Glaucus 8 in the Aegean Sea~ Nautilus 4 do Liona small yacht, presented to the king by Sir Edmund Lyons, the English Minister; also fifteen gun-boats stationed in the Aegean, to put down piraciesmounting two guns each, and bearing the names of the principal naval captains of the war, Kriezis, An- doutzos, Canaris, Apostolis, Miaulis, Tombazis, Cochran, & c.; and thus making, for the whole fleet, great and small, 33 vessels and 151 guns. The whole number enrolled on the Navy List at present is 2,035; of these there are, Officers in actual service 118 on half-pay 278 Honorary officers 8 Pursers, & c. 13 Petty officers, sailors, artisans, & c. 1018 Total, 2035 A great many captains, who fought and sacrificed property in the war, are enrolled on the half-pay listcarrying on ~their professions, but at the same time resting liable to be called into active service when occasion may require. Captain Alexander, who was at Boston a few years ago with his Greek brig, belongs to this class. The pay of a commodore is fixed at 380 drachmas per month, when in actual service, and 250 drachmas more for table money, equal together to $105; when off duty the pay is only one-half of the first sum, and the table money is reduced 100 drachmas. A second captain has 300 drachinas, and 200 drachmas table money; a third captain has 200 drachmas, a~id 100 drachmas for table money; a lieutenant has 100 drachmas and 80 drachmas for table, making whea in full pay $30; when off duty he has only half. A first class sailor has 36 drachmas or $6 per month; second class $5; third class $4; boys $2. They have one and a half pounds of bread per day, and five days in the week half a pound of meat. This is rather small, but the Greek sailor lives upon very little, and with a bit of bread and a few olives is con- tent for a long time. Of these he has plenty, as well as of rice, onions, 1840.] The Present Condition of Greece. 221 cheese, and vegetables; and, farther, every day a pint and a half of Grecian wine. The cost of this ration equals, according to the esti- mate, 4.01 drachmas per week, or 67 cents of our money, the same as nine and a half cents per day. For the commercial marine, Greece is divided into five departments the same as our custom-house districts. In the 1St district there were enrolled, according to the last accounts, 1,400 vessels, having 28,000 tons and 3,380 sailors. This district includes Hydra, Spetzia, & c. ; the vessels are quite small, the average being only 20 tons. 2d district, which contains their great seat of commerce, Syra, as well as Tinos, Andros, Paros, & c.the vessels are fewer, but of more than double the sizethere were 999 vessels, having 43,672 tons, and 7,801 sailors. 3d, 4th, and 5th districts there were 870 vessels, having 16,830.tons, and 3,720 sailors. These make in all 3,629 licensed vessels, having 88,502 tons, and navigated by 14,901 men. There is a great deal to excite ones interest in the future commercial prospects of Greece, which, as she must always be a commercial state, are so intimately connected with her political prospects. But my research into these I must drop now, in order to pass on. The duties of the Minister of Justice are nearly the same as in Francethe preparation and promulgation of new laws, the establish- ment of courts and tribunals, nominating justices of the peace, judges, and the high officers of the tribunals for the approbation of the king. It was one of the many wise acts of Capo dIstrias to adopt the French judiciary system, and also, with some alterations, the French code, making it the law of the land for Greece. By this method, a great deal of bungling and experimental law-making was avoided, and a known and established system was at once at hand to refer to. This system has been adhered to ever since. The penal and the commer- cial codes are the same as the French, but for civil matters the old Justinian code has been adopted; It is curious to see the new east- ern kingdom thus availing itself of the richest legacy of the old eastern empire, and still more curious is it to see the Grecian lawyer coming into court of a morning, bearing under one arm his code of Justinian, and under the other his French Code Napoleon! rfhe tri- bunals and courts of Greece are, as they stand now, copied entirely in their arrangement from the French, as is also their system of pro- cedure. The first division of Greece under Capo dIstrias was into ten departments or monarchies. This division for internal affairs has been since changed, there being thirty provinces, each having its go- vernor; but for the judicial system the old division is still retained. Every monarchy has its court of first instance, (cour de ~premiere in- 222 The Present Condition of Greece. [September, stance,) for civil and criminal process. For the latter, five judges must be present, for the former only three. The sessions of these courts are held three times a week throughout the year, and the cases coming under their control, and the rank of the courts, corres- pond very nearly to those of our courts of Common Pleas. From these courts, causes are carried by appeal to one of the two courts of appeal, (cours dappel,) which are at Athens and at Nauplia. These are com- posed of a number of judges, five of whom must be present to form a court. There is an attorney-general for each court of appeal, who has the same salary as the president or principal judge. The deci- sions of these courts are final, unless some point of law arises, ~when the case is carried up to the Areopagus, which holds its sessions at Athens, and answers to the cour de cassation of France. The number of judges necessary to form a court is seven, including the presiding officer. There is a president, vice-president, and also a kings coun- sel, not, however, the attorney-general (Procureur du Roi) of the court of appeals. The court of first instance decides on small crimes; but great of- fences are carried up to the jury court (cour dassise); trial by jury having been adopted for capital crimes, and many other offences which subject their perpetrators to a severe punishment. This has been in operation some years, but for a long time there was not one conviction, it being impossible to convince a jury of Greeks that it was their province to condemn, as well as to acquit. Trial by jury, argued these learned Thebans, is a privilege for the benefit of the prisonerif we convict him, he gets no benefit from this trial, for the judge alone could kaee done no more! As in every country, charges are made against the impartiality of the tribunals; but, notwithstanding that the salaries are low, and the judges are liable to be displaced at any moment by the kings will, I think, from what I have seen, that they are well ma- naged, and bear a comparison with the tribunals of most of the Euro- pean states. A judge of the court of first instance has 200 drachmas per month, or $400 per year; the President and District Attorney have $600 per year. A judge of the court of appeals has 300 drachmas per month, or $600 per year; the President and Attorney-General have $1000 each. A judge of the Areopagus has $700 per year. Many of the judges are men of good talents and excellent lawyers, particularly the Presidents of the two courts of appeal. The Presi- dent of the court at Athens, Rhally, a lawyer educated at Paris, is a man of splendid abilities, and would do honor to any bench, in any country. I will drop a veil over the department of the Interior; for, indeed, if examined it shows nothing. I have already told you what ruin- ous measures have been pursued in these acts which properly come nuder its control~ but these bad steps are not so much owing to the ministers who have been at the head of this department, as to the 1840.] The Present Condition of Greene. 223 king and others who have shaped its course for many bad acts, and cramped it in the funds necessary to accomplish many good ones. I turn from this with pleasure to the department of Public Instruction, which is at present united to it. This is one of the few departments in which the Government of Greece has been of real service to the country. For this they deserve credit, and I give it the more readily, from having seen, in some recent books of travel, statements intended to convey an idea far from the truth in regard to the real state of in- struction in Greecestatements written by travellers who must have spent but a very short time in the country, and examined things very superficially. The Greeks thirst for knowledge, and the ground work is laid for an excellent system of instruction. On the 1st of January last, there was in Greece 485 primary schools, having 36,000 pupils; these schools are intended for the youngest children, and about half of them are supported by the Government. In the next or second grade of instruction, are the Hellenic schools, of which there are forty-six, having 3,494 pupils. For twenty-four of these schools, the expense is defrayed by the General Government; and for twenty-two by the government of the provinces. Each school has three teachers, and the term of study is three years, during which the pupils are engaged on the ancient Greek, history, geography, arithmetic, linear drawing, and Frenchall gratuitous. Then there are four gymnases, the number of which is to be augmented to ten, which are supported entirely by the Government, and in which the system of instruction and course of studies are as perfect as in most of our colleges. The number of pupils in these is 555, the time of studies four years, and the num- ber of professors in each gymnase is six. The course of study com- prises Greek and Latin literature, history and geography, rhetoric, elements of physics, mental and natural, the French language, and in two of them, English and Italian. After this, and above all, is the University of Athens, also supported by the Government, having the four faculties of Philosophy, Law, Theology, and Medicine, accessible to all without any expense. The public lectures of the University are given by thirty-three professors, and throw open to every one the means of scientific information. The hours are likewise so arranged, that many can attend to their daily duties, and still pursue a course of study at the University. For a town of 20,000 inhabitants, in a state that has only 800,000, is not this well? When I see old men climbing up the steps of the Uni- versity to begin life, eagerly embracing the first opportunity which has been given them to acquire knowledge, and when I see young officers of the Navy availing themselves of their leave of absence, to attend the lectures of the University, I cannot but admire the good points which still remain in the people; and although years of servitude have made some of them as bad as those whom I have before de 224 The Present Condition oJ Greece. tSeptember, scribed, yet the germs of real worth are continually bursting forth, and only require the kindly encouragement of a good government to be~ come fully developed. Speaking of the schools and of the University, reminds me that I should not forget the newspapers. All wish for information, and those not disposed to study deeply, gather at least the skimmings of know- ledge from the public journals. Even while the war was at its height a small paper was commenced, whose coarse type, yellow sheet, and oily ink, bear about the same comparison with the fine fair sheets of the present day, as a copy of the old Boston News-Letter would bear with one of the well printed mammoth papers with which you now daily delight your eyes at home. Since the peace, the number of newspapers has much increased, The principal ones at present in Athens, are the Courrier Grec, the Athena, and the Friend of the People, (0 Philos tou Laou.) The Courier is the Government jour- nal, prepared under the direction of the Minister of Interior, and pub- lished twice a week in Greek and French. It contains all the laws and ordinances of the king, and such political articles as will convey an impression abroad, that the present king and his advisers are the wisest, most righteous, and most upright set of men, that ever presided over the destinies of a nation. The Athena is published entirely in Greek; it is a moderate opposi- tion paper, and edited with a great deal of talent. It is cool and calm, yet clear, firm, and convincing. The Friend of the People is the strong opposition paper. This is the journal whose appearance is looked forward to, and whose columns are so eagerly devoured, by the young men about town, and the droppers-in at the Caf6s. It is published in Greek and in French, and thus serves in some degree as a counterpart to the Courier, whose columns it pulls to pieces in a style that would make even an American editor open his eyes. It is condu~ted by a lawyera man who is possessed of excellent talents, has travelled, and manages his journal with much ability; and al- though some of his articles are rather strong in their opposition, yet there is more of argument and less of abuse than in many of the op- position journals of other countries. His professed objects are a constitution, and security of person and property by fixed laws. There are several other papers of minor importance published in Greece, all of which have their readers. The same restrictions upon the freedom of the press prevail here as in France, and the editor of the Philos has been three times called before the tribunals since I have been in Athens. The name of the editor, as in France, must be printed upon each sheet. A few days since, while on a visit with the District Attorney to the prison of Athens, one of the doors was thrown open, and my friend introducea the occupant to me as Monsieur le re~dacteur responsahie du Minerve (Athena.) I did not comprehend at first. There wasa The Present Condition of Greece. 1S40.J 225 common Greek sitting in the corner, with his fez and fustinella, and those none of the cleanest, very quietly smoking his chil$ouk, and looking the most contented man in the world. The truth, however, was soon discovered. He was one of the roller-boys, or floor- sweepers of the office, who received double pay for having his name placed at the end of the paper as editorg~rant responsable he taking the chances of imprisonment or not! If the sentence of the court is fine and imprisonment, the real editor manages one part, and the gt~rant responsable attends to the other. A division of labor most commendable. ** *** And here, my dear H, let us stop and take breath, for I fear we are both of us heartily tiredyou of me, and Ii of my letter. I began, intending to write you a few lines only, but the subject has grown upon me as I went on, and the letter has reached its present bounds. It may perhaps give you a better idea of Greece as it now is, than you have been before possessed of. To carry out fully the latter, I should speak of the political prospects of the country; but these are so intimately blended with the great political questions now agitating Europe, and the future prospects, or even the existence of Greece, depend so much on the course that events may take in the great European drama, that to consider the question fairly would require an examination into the policy of all the other courts, and would cause an accumulation of matter great enough to form a volume. The examinatiOn of this I must at all events postpone until some future day. You will see from what I have written, that Greece at present does not stand in the brightest position. She has been made a foot-ball for other powers, until she has been thrown out of all shape, and had it not been for her extreme elasticity, would long since have been crushed. I have not yet mentioned the greatest evidence of the badness of her government, which is, that instead of encouraging population and the immigration of Greeks from other parts of Turkey, such are the op- pressive exactions imposed, that the population has rather diminished than increased since the close of the war, and many Greeks are actually leaving the country for Turkey, in order to secure to themselves the privileges of a more liberal government. But, notwithstanding the darkness of the present, I thirfk I see a clearer light glimmering in the horizon of the future. Men who have retained, in a great degree,their character and energy during so many ages of servitude, will not easily be driven back to their former state after having once tasted the cup of knowledge. .A great responsibility rests with the king. By one or two bold and wise strokes, he might win to himself the confidence of the people, which at present he has not; and then, shaking ofl~ the influence of every faction that now en- virons him, domestic or foreign, (for in Greece every nation has its party,) take for his object the good of the country in which he is, aim voL. viir. No. xxxIII.sEPTEMnER, 1840. 0 226 Thomass Reminiscences. [September, to make Greece a State, free and glorious, ~nd drive far from her those men whom their oer-cloyed country vomits forth to gloat and fatten upon her spoils. That this can be done I have no doubt; as also that there can be found able men as councillors, should the kings better spirit prevail, and induce him to adopt this course. Some remarks which I translate from the Friend of the People are to the point. After enumerating some of the causes of complaint, and suggesting remedies, the editor says: There exist in Greece persons whose patriotism equals their merit, and whose dignity of character has never permitted them to solicit the favor of powerful foreigners, or of the chiefs of parties at home. Their number is small, it is true, but they are sufficient to direct the affairs of the State. It is to these men that the power may be confided in the actual circum- stances without fearmen able, active, and of good intentions; but to confer this power it is necessary to find a Will [that of the king] strong enough to vanquish all the efforts of partyall the false de- monstrations of power and influenceand greater still all the pressing solicitations of foreigners. A Will equal to this it is difficult to find in Greece; and unfortunately without this Will the malady of con- sumption under which our country is now laboring will end by pre- cipitating her into an untimely grave. * * * * * We trust and hope that the king will soon be penetrated with the truth, that for attaining his object, it is necessary that he conform to the general wishes of the nation, and that he cement their attachment to him by the indisso- luble tie of constitutional institutions. And now, my dear H, let us shake hands, and over miles of land and water, I beg you to receive the hearty Eastern salaams of Yours, most affectionately, GEORGE SUMNER. THOMASS REMINISCENCES. AMERicAN Reminiscences of the Last Sixty-Fivc Years !truly for the very singularity of the thing the appearance of a book with such a title merits a most special notice. The idea of an American wast- ing his time in unprofitable recollections of half a century agostill more, that of his writing and publishing themis indeed a flat con- tradiction of the wise kings dictum, that there is nothing new under * Reminiscences of the Last Sixty-Five Years, commencing with the Battle of Lexington. Also, Sketches of his own Life and Times. By E. S. Thomas. For- inerly Editor of the Charleston (S. C.) City Gazette, and lately of the Cincinnati Daily Evening Post. Ia 2 vols. Hartford: Printed by Case, Tiffany, and Burn- ham, for the Author, 1840.

Thomas's Reminiscences 226-251

226 Thomass Reminiscences. [September, to make Greece a State, free and glorious, ~nd drive far from her those men whom their oer-cloyed country vomits forth to gloat and fatten upon her spoils. That this can be done I have no doubt; as also that there can be found able men as councillors, should the kings better spirit prevail, and induce him to adopt this course. Some remarks which I translate from the Friend of the People are to the point. After enumerating some of the causes of complaint, and suggesting remedies, the editor says: There exist in Greece persons whose patriotism equals their merit, and whose dignity of character has never permitted them to solicit the favor of powerful foreigners, or of the chiefs of parties at home. Their number is small, it is true, but they are sufficient to direct the affairs of the State. It is to these men that the power may be confided in the actual circum- stances without fearmen able, active, and of good intentions; but to confer this power it is necessary to find a Will [that of the king] strong enough to vanquish all the efforts of partyall the false de- monstrations of power and influenceand greater still all the pressing solicitations of foreigners. A Will equal to this it is difficult to find in Greece; and unfortunately without this Will the malady of con- sumption under which our country is now laboring will end by pre- cipitating her into an untimely grave. * * * * * We trust and hope that the king will soon be penetrated with the truth, that for attaining his object, it is necessary that he conform to the general wishes of the nation, and that he cement their attachment to him by the indisso- luble tie of constitutional institutions. And now, my dear H, let us shake hands, and over miles of land and water, I beg you to receive the hearty Eastern salaams of Yours, most affectionately, GEORGE SUMNER. THOMASS REMINISCENCES. AMERicAN Reminiscences of the Last Sixty-Fivc Years !truly for the very singularity of the thing the appearance of a book with such a title merits a most special notice. The idea of an American wast- ing his time in unprofitable recollections of half a century agostill more, that of his writing and publishing themis indeed a flat con- tradiction of the wise kings dictum, that there is nothing new under * Reminiscences of the Last Sixty-Five Years, commencing with the Battle of Lexington. Also, Sketches of his own Life and Times. By E. S. Thomas. For- inerly Editor of the Charleston (S. C.) City Gazette, and lately of the Cincinnati Daily Evening Post. Ia 2 vols. Hartford: Printed by Case, Tiffany, and Burn- ham, for the Author, 1840. 1840.] Thomass Reminiscences. 227 the sun. At least under the sun that has illumined our half of this mundane spheroid, since we have started on our young career as a nation, so extraordinary a phenomenon has never to our knowledge been witnessed by it before. True it is that there is no pleasanter kind of writing than personal reminiscences. True too, that in the infinite variety of adventurous enterprise and curious incident afforded by our early history and growthin the vast numbers of men of original and remarkable cha- racter which such times and such circumstances must have created in the close connexion which has subsisted between the personal oc- currences of private biography, and the general progress of public history, elevating the former to a participation in the interest and im- portance of the latterand in the incredible contrasts between the past and the present which, from the rapidity of our national move- ment and developement, the memories of thousands among us must presentno people, it would seem, could boast a more abundant store of materials from which to derive rich entertainment in this most agreeable department of literature. The fact remains, however, un- questionable, that the American genius is adverse to Reminiscences; none of us write themfew of us would probably read them. The truth is, that our attention is so completely absorbed by the pre- sent and the future, that very little of it remains to be bestowed upon the past. Our eyes are ever bent forward, and rarely cast behind us. Not only are our thoughts and energies engrossed by the unresting activity to which we devote our present; but of the future toward which this unparalleled national movement is bearing us on, such grand though shadowy anticipations are for ever vaguely present be- fore our minds, that the things of the past have but little interest or value for us. Progressindefinite, unpausing progressis our pri- mary law; a great truth which Crockett most unconsciously shadowed forth in the well known maxim which he has bequeathed to us, and which has come already to be regarded almost universally as our na- tional motto Go ahead ! Hence doubtless the reason that history is so little read among us, in comparison with the attention it receives in an European course of studyunder an order of things of which conservatism is the primary idea, and where the pervading interest of all those classes to whom it has bequeathed rank, wealth, and pow- er, is that the future should continue, as closely as possible, the per- petual reproduction of the past. Hence, too, may we perhaps add, the singular want of public interest prevailing among us with regard to historical monuments. How few of our cities can boast any even of the humblest kind. The largest of them possesses absolutely none. Pages might be filled with the list of the abortive attempts that have been set on foot, in various places, with a view to the erec- tion of statues of Washington, profoundly and devotedly as his memory is and will always be revered. And if one of our large cities should 228 Thomass Reminiscences. [September, be cited in disproof of the remark, the very fact that the construct ion of two monuments(the one in commemoration of its defence against the threatened sack and pillage of an invading army, and the other in honor of the Father of his Country)should suffice to procure for it par excellence the distinguishing title of the Monumental City, only serves to convert the single exception into a more striking illus- tration of the rule. While on the other hand, have we not seen, iii one of our cities the most abounding in private wealth, liberality and public spirit, itself the birth-place of the Revolution, and bound by the strongest obligations both of local and national patriotism not to leave the honorable duty unperformedhave we not seen in Boston the project of the monument on Bunker Hill dragging its slow length along for years, languishing with seeming hopelessness of accomplish- ment for the want of a few thousand dollars? And at last, after having so long shamed with the aspect of its unfinished mass, not only the city which it overlooks, but the whole surrounding country which owes to the blood there shed all the teeming blessings of liberty in which it is for ever rejoicing and exulting, if it appears now at last about to rise to the completion of its design, it is only by means which do as little credit to the patriotic liberality of the men, as they do honor to the spirit and energy of the women, of New England. But we are wandering very far from Mr. Thomas, the publication of whose Reminiscences has suggested this train of reflection. His personal history may be briefly told. He entered upon the threshold of existence, as himself informs us, soon after the earliest military movements of the Revolution, at West Cambridge, in the neighborhood of Boston. In 1788 he went to live with his uncle, Isaiah Thomas, at Worcester, at the solicitation of the latter, to learn the art of printing. Of Isaiah Thomas an interesting account is given, chiefly extracted from Lincolns History of Worcester. He was a zealous patriot preceding and during the Revolutionary War, and as a political writer, and editor of the Massachusetts Spy, had made himself so obnoxious to the British that he had the honor of being included with John Hancock and Samuel Adams in a list of twelve persons who were to be summarily executed when ta- ]~en. He became an extensive publisher, and a man of distinguished mark. Among other literary productions, he was the author of a History of Masonry, and the History of Printing, a work of well es- tablished authority and value. He was the first man, as his nephew tells us, that ever read the Declaration of Independence in Massachu- setts; the express on his way from Philadelphia to Boston having stop- ped at Worcester on the 14th of July, 1776, and waited until he read it from the steps of the meeting-house to the listening citizens, who re- ceived it with every demonstration of rejoicing. In 1792 Mr. Tho- mas left his uncle, with whom he describes his apprenticeship as having been an ordeal of pretty severe service, and removed to Bos 1840.1 Thomass Reminiscences. 229 ton, where he spent two years at the book-binding businessand a couple more in a dry goods storewhen in May, 1795, he proceeded to Charleston, South Carolina, in true independent Yankee style, in quest of his fortune, with decent clothes on his back, (for which he had given his note,) and in his pocket the life of Franklin, and a dollar and a half. Not long after his arrival in Charleston, he had a narrow escape from what would have cut short in advance the Remi- niscences which he has lived to the year 1840 to record. On the first of Octobersuch is the laconic quaintness with which lie re- cords the event I was taken with the yellow fever. On the fifth a coffin was made for me. On the 10th I walked out. He soon after opened .a stationery and book store, in connexion with Mr. Caleb Cushing, from Bostonwhose ancestral propinquity we are left to conjecture to the present not undistinguished possessor of the same name. His partner, however, having been attacked with the yellow fever in the following summer, was less fortunate than himself had been, having, instead of walking out, been carried off, as we are told, after an illness of six days. He was very suc~ cessful in his business, which led him to make a number of voyages to Europe. After a residence of twelve years he removed to Provi- dence, R. I., where he had before, in connexion with several associ- ates, erected a cotton factoryone of the earliest established in the United States. In this he was soon induced to sell out his share by the persuasions of the family of his wife, who resided in Baltimore; and he established himself on a farm in the vicinity of the latter city. The long embargo soon intervened in 1808, bringing produce down to less than half the usual prices; and in the fall of 1809, he purchased the City Gazette in Charleston, selling a portion of his farm at a sacrifice, and returned to Charleston, and assumed the editorial charge of his paper on the first of January, 1810. He continued it for six years, receiving from it so large an income as to be enabled to retire again to his farm in Maryland, in 1817, with a liberal independence. He became a scientific agriculturist, and went to the Legislature of the State. He was a zealous partisan of General Jackson. By the year 1827 he found himself, through a series of misfortunes growing out of the agitations of the currency which had taken place Within that pe- riod, an utterly ruined man. He removed to the Ohio with his family, andinthebeginningof 1829, establishedat Cincinnati a paper under the title of The Commercial Daily Advertiser. Having abandoned the support of General Jackson toward the close of his first term of office, he was the author of the abortive nomination of Judge McLean. He soon afterward found himself compelled again to sell out his paper, for which, as he informs us, he has never yet received the first cent of payment. In May, 1835, he commenced another, the Daily Eve- ning Post, which he devoted very zealously to the support of General Harrison. In December ]~ast the want of support compelled him to 230 Thomass Reminiscences. [September, discontinue itsince which time he has occupied himself with the publication of the present volumes, and in a tour which has extended above three thousand miles, into half the States of the Union, in which, he informs us, he has addressed the people fifteen times on the coming Presidential Electionand farther intends to address them as many times more before that event. If, therefore, such a calamity should be in store for the country as the possible election of the can- didate in whose behalf Mr. Thomas is thus zealous and eloquent, we cheerfully give him the benefit of the humble influence we shall possess in the councils of a Whig administration, by sincerely recom- mending him as a very fitting person for some comfortable appointment, which shall afford a consolation to his advanced age for the misfor- tunes which have cast their shadows over its decline. So much for the life of which these volumes present the Remini- scences. Being apparently a man of intelligence, cultivation, and enterprise, and having filled for so many years the influential position of a leading political editor, Mr. Thomass associations have been a good deal cast among men of whom it is highly interesting to read his personal sketches. If we were disposed to be fastidious, we might indeed complain that his volumes are very far from what such opportunities as he has enjoyed might have rendered themand might even venture to hint that in their making up, there enters a very considerable infusion of the element for which there is no more po- lite name than the expressive one of humbug. This is especially true of the second volume, the greater part of which appears to be eked out with long extracts from various books and newspapers, together with random political articles from the columns of his late newspaper. Of these we can only say that they bear very little relation to the title under which the volumes recommend themselves to sale; and that if the unconscious pride of paternity has persuaded their author that they were worth rescuing from the oblivion of his dust-buried files, to be thus resuscitated in the expanded and embellished glory of the double-leaded and hot-pressed pages before us, it is an innocent illu- sion in which he certainly must be content to stand solitary and alone. But in the matter of Americim Reminiscences we are not, and have no right to be, fastidious. We receive thankfully what we can get; and for the sake of the many grains of wheat tolerate cheer- fully enough their liberal accompaniment of chaff. We cannot fill a few of our own pages more agreeably than by the quotation of a few of the interesting passages of personal reminiscence of distinguished men from which we have derived no little entertainment. There is a good deal of interesting gossip about the antiquities of Boston, which we commend especially to our Eastern brethren. The following is the picture which he presents of Charleston in 1795, in which the Southern reader will be struck with many points of marked contrast with the Charleston of the present day: 1840.] Charleston in 1795. 231 On the 10th of June, we arrived at Charleston; the appearance of which was so totally different from Boston, that I could scarcely realize the idea, that it was a part of the American Union, and under the same government. The city, as you approach it, with its numerous wharves crowded with shipping, (bearing the flags of all nations,) and covered with extensive blocks of well built ware-houses, with the lofty and splendid steeple of St. Michaels, and the then less lofty one of St. Philips, rising in the back ground, with the dead level of the city, and the sur- rounding country, far beyond where the eye can reach, presents to the view of the New Englander, or the European, a spectacle new and interesting, so totally unlike their father land, that their curiosity cannot fail to be excited by it. GENET, the first minister from the French Republic to the United States, landed in Charleston, where he made a liberal distribution of commissions for pri- vateers, which were not suffered to remain useless, as might be distinctly seen, by the number of Dutch and other prize ships that were then laying at the wharves. Of the numerous vessels that crowded this then great commercial mart, scarcely one in five bore the stars and stripes. The flags of Hamburg, Bremen, Altona, and Lubeck, were the most numerous; while the British, French, Dutch, and an occasional Spanish or Portuguese, made up the variety. A large portion of the inhabitants exhibited as great a variety in their language, as did the shipping in their colors. There were entire streets inhabited by the French, (Union-street, for instance, with a slight sprinkling of Spanish and Portuguese,) many of whom had fled from the massacre of St. Domin,, o, and others were brought there by the allurements of privateering; among the latter was Boutelle, who had acquired great wealth by his numerous captures. Before I arrived there, this man gave a public entertainment, of which hundreds partook, and at which, the heads were taken from the wine casks placed in the street for the use of the multitude. At the close of the entertainment, a procession was formed, led by Boutelle, (preceded by a band of music,) arm and arm with Charles Coatsworth Pinckney, afterward am- bassador to France, a Major General in the army of the United States, and twice the Federal candidate for the Presidency. In this style they marched to the theatre. There was a regular established Jacobin Club in Charleston, at this period, which lasted long after I arrived there. The most noisy and active member of the club was a Frenchman, by the name of Davernett, between sixty and seventy years of age, who wore, instead of a hat, a red worsted cap upon his head, and could he heard, at all hours of the day, by personis walking in Broad-street, before they got within a hundred yards of him, promulgating his Jacobinical doctrines, in a style of vociferation known only to such men as he was, and the Billingsgate fish-women of London. About this time, Robert Goodloe Harper came from the interior to re- side in Charleston; he fought his way into notice by a duel with one of the Rut- ledges, who, I believe, escaped, as several of them have, by the hollowness of their hacks, not of their heads. Harper became a member, and I believe Vice-President of the club, wearing the bonnet roage, with grace and dignity. I leave my readers to judge as to the affinity of Jacobinism with federalism. The great John Rutledge, and his distinguished brother, Edward, were both living. John, who had been chosen Dictator in the Revolution, was, by Washington, appointed Chief Justice of the United States, and held one court in Philadelphia, before it was discovered that he was subject to fits of insanity. Edward succeeded Yanderhorst or Charles Pinckney, as Governor of the State, and died in that high office; he was a most accomplished gentleman and eloquent orator. After Johns fits of insanity had increased upon him, he was elected a member of the State Legislature, upon the ground that if he had a lucid interval of a day, he would do more for the general good in that period, than any half dozen others could do during the session; he had the lucid interval, and did do it. At the period I have been speaking of, Charleston was the most aristocratit~ city in the Union, notwithstanding her Jacobin club, with her red liberty caps, and 232 Charleston in 1795. [September, fraternal 1iug~. Thcre was a complete nobility in everything but the title, and a few with that appendage there were Pierce Butler, cousin of the Duke of Ormond, Sir John Nesbitt, Baronet, the Right Honourable Richard Beresford, if my memory serves, brother of Lord Beresford, with some others that do not occur to me at this moment ; also old lady Mary Middleton she was a smart business lady, although advanced in life ; she kept her own accounts, and attended to the business of her estates personally. The door of the St. Cecilia Society was shut to the plebeian and the man of business, with the two exceptions of Adam Tunno, king of her Scotch, and William Crafts, vice-king of the Yankees, under their legitimate head Nathaniel Russel, than whom there was no better man. A large portion of the most distinguished families of those days were descendants of the French;who ~ed at the revocation of the edict of Nantz, and took up their abode in South Ca- rolina; among them the Hugers, the Horrys, the Porchers, the Managaults, the Prioleaus, the Gailliards, and many others. The professions of her leading men in those days were of the Jefferson school, but their practice was aristocracy complete. But aristocracy cannot long exist without hereditary estates and titles : as a proof of it, there is scarcely a distinguiahed man in their whole State now, who has de- scended from any of those ariatocratic families who then gave tone to society and laws to the State. The present Mayor of Charleston, the Honourable H. L. Pinck- ney, son of Charles, is a striking exception. The aristocracy of wealth and family have been compelled to give way to the aristocracy of mind; all her most distin- guished men of the present day are self-made; for instance, Calhoun, McDuffie, Hayne, Hamilton, Pettigrew, Duncan, Cheves, Legare, R. Yeadon, jr., and a host of others, forming all together an aggregate of talent not equalled by the population of any other State in the Union. The aristocracy I have alluded to was carried to that extent that it was held disreputable to attend to business of almost any kind; even the learned professions were admitted into the front rank in society only to a limited extent. All the mer- chants, with a very few exceptions, were from the Eastern States, or Europe. The commerce of Charleston, at the period I am speaking of, far exceeded anything of later years, as her exports were great, and her imports were equal not only to her own consumption, but to supply a large portion of Georgia on the one hand, and North Carolina on the other. The forced and smuggling trade to the then Spanish and Portuguese South American colonies, in British manufactures, was immense and extremely lucrative, bringing in return large quantities of specie, and innumerable cargoes of coffee, cocoa, and sugar, which were reshipped to Hamburg, Bremen, Amsterdam, & c. Many of the merchants accumulated large fortunes, which ena- bled them to cope with the wealthiest planters in their style of living. Everything was imported, even to the birch twigs for sweeping vessels decks The great staples of the State then were rice, indigo, and tobacco. Cotton was so little known and cultivated, that Mr. Jay, in his famous treaty, made no provision for its intro- duction into England; a circumstance which caused both him and the treaty to be spoken of with the most marked contempt by the citizens. I was present and heard the pourin,,s out of their wrath against it when it reached Charleston in July, 1795. The excitement was great: a meeting was called at St. Michaels Church, which was addressed by the Rutledges, and by John J. Priugle. In the midst of the pro- ceedings, Charles Piuckney arrived from the country, and gave vent to his feelings in a most tremendous burst of indignant eloquence against the treaty. He was very great at a philipic, on the spur of the occasion; besides he was an excellent po- litical writer; he was the author of the different series of numbers signed A Re- publican, in the City Gazette, between 1810 and 1816. Joseph Alaton wrote The Mountaineer during the same period, and my humble self the numbers of Sidney, Junites, and Biampden, the latter pending the second election of Mr. Madison. It is a fact highly creditable to the distiu~uishel men of South Carolina, that in allcases of emergency they fly to the aid of the press, not leaving Editors, as in mos 1840.] AtouUrieGad.sden. places, to sustain the cause alone. In all such cases, the periodical press of South Carolina pours forth a torrent of intellect nowhere else to be met with. Truth compels me to admit, however, that the object of it is too often State, at the ex- pense of National politics. * * * * Among the eminent men of Charleston in those days, besides the Rutledges and Pinckneys, already mentioned, were Generals Moultrie and Gadaden. Each of those veterans of the Revolution were, I should think, upward of seventy when I first saw them. Moultries memoirs have been published since I left Charleston, but I have not seen them. He was the hero of Fort Moultrie, which took its name from him. His gallant and successful defence of it on the 28th of June, 1776, had he done nothing else, would have handed his name down to the remotest posterity. But he was not more celebrated for his bravery and skill in war, than for all those virtues that adorn the domestic circle in peace. He was the best company of any man I ever saw of his years, and could set the table in a roar whenever it suited him. The old loved, the young venerated and respected him. He was a great favorite with the ladies, whose faithful admirer and most chivalrous defender he had ever been. General Gadaden was his senior. I saw only enough of him to learn to appreciate him as a soldier of the Revolution, and a patriotic and most enter- prising citizen. Governor Charles Pinckney used to relate the following excellent anecdote of the venerable patriot with great good humor, although it was at his (Mr. Pinckneys) own expense. Mr. Piuckney inherited a fortune; and on coming of age and taking possession of it, having had a finished education, his first object was to get elected to the Legislature, which then set in Charleston. It so happened that his overseer was appointed judge of the election, which was held a few miles from town. The day was very stormy: Mr. Piuckney went and voted, the judge voted, and none else went to vote; consequently he wa~ returned duly elected. When the Legislature met, and Mr. Piuckney had qualified, General Gadsdeu rose with great gravity, and said, Mr. Speaker, I congratulate the House upon having young gentlemen of talents and fortune come among us; and, sir, what adds greatly to the interest upon this occasion, I understand the gentleman has the unanimoux vote of his constituents. This put the house in a roar.~~ We have here a glimpse of the old Massachusetts bar in its par- lor dayswith a passing reference to the good old times of the Alien and Sedition Laws: in August, or September, (1798,) the court set at Dedham, and the town became excessively crowded. The great Sprague cause was to he tried, in which, if my memory serves, one hundred and sixty thousand dollars were depending. The counsel engaged were probably the most powerful that ever were engaged in one cause, in this or any other country. When I name them, I think that all who knew them will admit the truth of my remark. There were Theophilus Parsons, Samuel Dexter, Fisher Ames, Laban Wheaton, George Richards Minot, Harrison Gray Otis, Rufus Gray Amory, and Harrington. I was then reading law un- der the direction of the late Judge Johnson, of the United States Supreme Court, and the town being so full, my hostess requested me to take some of the gentlemen into my rooms. To this I made no objection, provided I made my own selection. I did soand took Messrs. Dexter, Wheaton, and Harrington. We had a parlor and bed-room, in the former of which we ate, and in the latter all of us slept; and although we retired at a seasonable hour, it was one or two in the morning, before we slept, particularly if Mr. Dexter was in the vein; for he abounded in anecdote, and while he talked, none could, nor wished to sleep. * * * * * Mr. Dexter and Mr. Parsons were pitted against each other. Mr. Amory had hunted up all the authorities and placed a mark at each. Mr. Dexter requested me 02 234 The Old Massachusetts Bar. [September, to take a seat beside him, and hand him the authorities as he wanted them, which afforded me the best possible opportunity of hearing every word that escaped the lips of that great man. Placing one foot upon a chair, and folding his arms across his breast, he began; and such a continued stream of reasoning, without noise and without effort, (it was like pouring oil from a flask,) as he poured out for hours, I never heard before, nor since. Mr. Parsons made several attempts to interrupt him. At last Mr. Dexter turned to him and said: Mr. Parsons, if you have an over- flow of wit, have the goodness to reserve it for the close: you have already driven several ideas out of my head. The Chief Justice remarked: never mind, Mr. Dexter; if he should deprive you of as many more, you would still have enough left for Mr. Parsons. There were no more attempts at interruption. Mr. Parsons style, it is in vain for me to attempt to designate by any other ap- pellation than a sledge-hammer style, beating down all before it with such tremen- dous effect, as to make it very difficult to keep in view even a portion of what had been said by those who had preceded him. He was a great sloven; wore a ban- danna handkerchief tied carelessly about his neck, and his beard and his shirt a week sometimes, or he was slandered ; but if I were to judge from appearances, there was more truth than poetry in it. He was a man of mighty mind; and as long ago as more than half a century, he was known throughout New England as the giant of the law. Mr. Wheaton was a graceless speaker, without eloquence in matter or manner, but his reasoning powers were only second to Mr. Dexter. Mr. Otis was a man of fine face and perfect symmetry of person, remarkably neat in his dress, of the most engaging manners, an eloquent and fascinating speak- er, though not a profound reasoner. Mr. Ames was eloquence personified; the silvery tones of his voice fell upon the ear like strains of sweetest music; you could not choose but listen with de- light, but when he had finished, the effect died away upon your mind, as the sound had done upon your ear; the impression was not lasting; he could not beat it into you, as Parsons, ~Dexter, and Wheaton could. I am not certain that Messrs. Minot, (the American Sallust,) Amory, and Har- rington, spoke on the occasion; if they did, it has escaped my memory: they were all gentlemen of high reputation. There is an anecdote of Mr. Ames I must not omit, although it cost a hearty laugh at his expense. There lived in Dedham a laborer, a man of great natural wit and smartness of repartee, by the name of Kingsley. He had a great dislike to Mr. Ames, and never let pass an opportunity of showing it. A town meeting was held, at which Mr. Ames made an able and eloquent speech. Kingsley, in his dirty frock and trowsers, had taken a seat in the adjoining pew; and no sooner had Mr. Ames finished, than he rose and said: Mr. Moderator, my brother Ames elo- quence reminds me of nothing but the shining of a fire-fly, which gives just light enough to show its own insignificance; and down he sat, having thus at a blow, by exciting the risibles of the audience, destroyed all the effect of Mr. Ames elo- quence. In August or September, 1 wrote Sidney, addressed to President Adams, and sent it to the post-office in Boston, directed to the Independent Chronicle, published by Adams and Rhodes, who never knew who was the author. Two days after, I rode into Boston and found that Sidney was published, and made quite a stir upon cluinge; and I was not a little flattered to learn that it was attributed to the cele- brated Doctor Charles Jarvis, who declared to me he was not the author, nor did he know who was. All of this I could readily believe, as there was but one person, besides myself, in the secret. Mr. Russel came out in the Centinel very severe upon the Doctor; and that there should be no mistake as to whom he took for the author, he said, The cabinet end jalap of the law would soon be administered to him. This satisfied me that they had no suspicion of my being the author. The 1840.J The Sedition LawJohn Randolph. 235 Sedition Law was then in the full tide of successful experiment, and I had no par- ticular desire to come within the reach of its tender mercies, which Matthew Lyon and others were then in the full enjoyment of. Adams and Rhodes were prose- cuted for the publication, and Mr. Adams died while the prosecution was pending. My friend to whom I had confided the authorship could not keep a secret, but must tell it to Doctor Ames, and it became known to some few others. The court met soon after, and ~he judge gave it in charge to the grand jury; and so far as he had been able to get information on the subject, recommended me to their particular at- tention; but it was too late; the bird had flown; I was then at Newport, on my way to Charleston. The following personal sketches are well worth the space they oc- cupy: JOHN RANDOLPHOn a bright sunny morning, early in Februray, 1796, might have been seen entering my book-store, in Charleston, South Carolina, a fine looking, florid-complexioned old gentleman, with hair as white as snow; which, contrasted with his complexion, showed him to have been a free liver, or hon vivant, of the first order. Along with him was a tall, gauky-looking, flaxen-haired stripling, ap- parently of the age of from sixteen to eighteen, with a complexion of a good parch- ment color, beardless chin, and as much assumed self-consequence as any two-footed animal I ever saw :this was JOHN RANnOryn. I handed him from the shelves volume after volume, which he tumbled carelessly over and handed back again; at length he hit upon something that struck his fancymy eye happened to be fixed upon his face at the moment, and never did I witness so sudden, so perfect a change of human countenance; that which before was dull and heavy, in a moment became animated, and flashed with the brightest beams of intellect; he stepped up to the old gray-headed gentleman, and, giving him a thundering slap on the shoulder, said, Jack, look at this! I was youn0 then, but I never can forget the thought that rushed upon my mind at the moment, which was, that he was the most impudent youth I ever saw. He had come to Charleston to attend the races. There was then living in Charleston a Scotch baronet, by the name of Sir John Nesbit, with his younger brother, Alexander, of the ancient house of Nesbits, of Dean Hall, some fifteen miles from Edinburgh. Sir John was a very handsome man, and as gallant, gay Lotha- rio, as could be found in the city. He and Randolph became intimate, which 1e4 to a banter between them for a race, in which each was to ride his own horse. The race came off during the race week, and Randolph wonsome of the ladies ex- claiming at the time, though Mr. Randolph had won the race, Sir John had won their hearts. This was not so much to he wondered at, when you contra~sted the elegant form and graceful style of riding of the baronet, with the uncouth and awkward manner of his competitor. Some two or three years after this visit to Charleston, he was elected a member of Congress, and such was still his youthful appearance, that when he appeared at the Clerks table to qualify, that gentleman could not refrain from asking him his age: the answer was prompt, if not satisfactory ask my constituents, sir, was the reply. John Adams was then President, and Mr. Randolph took a decided part against his administration. Congress was sitting in Philadelphia, and Mr. Adams hot water war with France being then on the tapis, the latitude Mr. Randolph gave his tongue in debate occasioned his being assaulted in the lobby of the theatre, by an officer of the army or navy, I do not recollect which, or who he was; hut Mr. Randolph made a formal complaint, which, to the best of my memory, met with but a cold reception. Party runs high enough now, and much too high for the good of the country; but he who supposes it never rose higher, knows nothing of the period to which I allude. 236 JoI6z Rando1pI~TAe Yazoo Fraud. [September, Among the members of Congress, Mr. Randolph had but few personal friends, but those few he riveted to his heart with hooks of steel. Among them was the Honorable Mr. Bryan, from Georgia; the late Governor David B.. Williams, of South Carolina, and the still later venerable Nathaniel Macon, of North Carolina. At the close of a session, soon after the removal of Congress to Washington, the former of these gentlemen (Mr. Bryan) married a daughter of General Foreman, of Mary- and, and with her and her sister spent some days in Cha rleston, when on their way to his estate in Georgia. On this occasion, Mr. Bryan showed me a letter which he had just received from Mr. Randolph, congratulating him upon his marriage. A letter of more beautiful simplicity and feeling, I never read. I recollect that, while the writer dwelt upon the happiness and advantages to be expected from a wedded life, he spoke feelingly of never expecting to enjoy them himself. The Yazoo fraud, a greater than which never disgraced the annals of a state or nation, came before Congress about this time. I am acquainted with some of the nefarious transactions which gave rise to this stupendous villany. In 1794, a number of men in Georgia, joined by some in South Carolina, calling themselves the Yazoo Company, applied to the Legislature of Georgia, in 1795, for a grant of an immense tract of territory, to which she had no right, and over which she had no jurisdiction: but the men who formed this company were not to be easily put off, and a title from some Legislature was indispensable to the success of their scheme. They effected by bribery the accomplishment of their object ;it became a matter of common noto- riety that the whole, or nearly the whole, Legislature were bribed to grant the title asked for, but which they had no right to grant. The manner in which it had been obtained was bruited in the newspapers of the day, and none could plead ignorance. The grant being thus obtained, agents were immediately sent through the States to dispose of the stolen goods?~ They visited Boston, where a company was imme- diatelj~ formed, called The New England Mississippi Land Company, who pur- chased to the extent of some millions of dollars of these lands, knowing them to have been fraudulently obtained. I was in Georgia the next year, 1796, when the new Legislature, who had been elected with a direct view to this object, having assembled at the seat of government, and taking the necessary preliminary steps, went in grand procession, with their respective officers at their head, and burnt, by the hands of the common hangman, the records of the infamous proceedings of their immediate predecessors, and with them the infamous grant itself. The Yazoo claim was, by the New England Mississippi Land Company, to re- cover from Congress the value of the lands so obtained; and it was in opposition to this application, that Mr; Randolph immortalized himself, in speeches that will standthe test of time, of scretiny, and of talent. It was regularly brought for- ward at every session, and as regularly defeated by him. The late General Wade Hampton, and OBrien Smith, were both elected to Congress with a sole view to the carrying through this unrighteous measure; and it was during its discussion one day, when they were in the House, that Mr. Randolph made the withering re- mark, which rung through thp Union at the time. Shaking his long, lank finger at Mr. Hampton, he exclaimed, at the top of his voice, Mr. Speeker, I hope, sir, to see the day when a Yazoo claimant and a villain will lie synonymous terms. On the evening following, Mr. Hampton bundled up his papers and waited on Mr. Randolph, whose first salutation on the occasion was, have yoe come for peace, or for war? For peace, was the reply, or I should not bring these papers. In an evil hour Mr. Randolph was left out, and before his re-election the bill was passed, and the robbery consummated, to the amount of five millions of dollarsan event which never could have taken place while he had a seat in that house. Mr. Randolph was always eccentric, and in the latter part of his life, at times, insane. I witnessed an instance of it in Baltimore, in the spring of 1820, when he 1840.] Robert Y. Hayne. 237 rode in an open chair, with a double barrel gun beside him, to make a morning call, and made his faithful Juba take the gun into the house after him. A few days after he took passage on a steamboat at Baltimore, for Norfolk: here his insanity showed itself in a manner none could doubt. There was a French gentleman passenger on board, to whom he took a great dislike, and calling for his gun, he took possession of the cabin door, and would not allow the passenger, who was on deck, to re-enter the cabin. His insanity at this time was known, and spoken of, by many. No man of a great and sane mind, such as Mr. Randolphs had been, could, while in a sane state, be guilLy of such conduct as occasionally marked his course during his short em- bassy to Russia. It was generally understood that he was disappointed many years ago, in not re- ceiving the appointment of minister to England; and that from this disappointment, and the chagrin consequent upon it, sprung all those eccentricities which marked his erratic course in after life. This was his misfortune, not his fault. He was a republican in theory, but an aristocrat in practice, as his whole life abundantly proved. He possessed a mind fertilized by every stream of literature, but the use he made of his great acquirements were rather calculated to make ene- mies than friends; and yet, as he once said, no man was ever blessed with such constituentsa fact, which, of itself, speaks volumes in his praise. If he origi- nated no great national good, he prevented many evils; and in doing so, he became the benefactor of his country, although not to the extent he otherwise might have been. * * * * GENERAL RoaEaT Y. HAYNEWas born in Sonth Carolina, on the 10th of November, 1791, and having first received a good school education, in the city of Charleston, at about the age of seventeen, he commenced reading law with Lang- don Cheves, Esq., and before he was quite twenty-one, was admitted to the bar; when, Mr. Cheves being called into public life, he transferred his great and lucra- tive practice to Mr. Hayne, who at once found himself involved in a practice as great as, or greater than, any other gentleman at the bar. He was young and diffi- dent; but whatever untiring industry and close application could perform, he felt confident that it was in him to accomplish. His mind now began to expand, and in proportion to that expansion, his want of confidence wore oW and he took rank among the first of his profession, at an age when very few have even gained admis- sion to it. It was just before he was of age, that I addressed a note to him one day, inviting him to become a candidate for the Legislature, the election being then near at hand. His reply was expressed in terms of the greatest gratitude for my friendly feelings toward him, which I had always felt, and then strongly expressed, and regretted he was not of an age to become a candidate. I had watched him from childhood, and saw the opening blossoms of a parents hope expanding as his youth advanced. The seeds of goodness and greatness which were sown in him at his birth, grew with his growth and strengthened with his strength; and young though he was when he left us, his country had reaped the harvest in a well-spent life, which had been devoted to her interest, as he conscientiously believed; and if at any time he was mistaken in that belief, it was the mistake of an honest man and a Christian, who had devoted his soul to his God and his life to his country.: In September, 1814, 1 again called upon him to become a candidate. There was no longer any impediment, and he was elected by an overwhelming vote ahead of all others on the ticket. He had served but two terms when he was elected Speaker of the House. The term for which he was elected to this high office had not expired, when the two Houses elected him Attorney-General of the State, in which office he continued until 1823, when he was elected to the Senate of the Tjnit3d States, although then but thirty-two years of age! Here his great mind had its full scope, and his amiable disposition, with his unequalled suavity of man- ners, alike secured to him the respect and esteem of all. From my knowledge of 238 Robert Y. Hayne. [September, him through life, I have no hesitation in saying, that the man who knew and did not respect Robert Y. Hayne, had a heart and feelings not to be envied. In DecemL,cr, 1832, he was elected Governor of the Statea situation, as things then stood, in which he had everything to fear and nothing to hope. As Governor of the State, Mr. Hayne was very soon called upon to act. The proclamation of the President, issued on the 10th of December, in relation to the proceedings of South Carolina, reached Columbia in a very few days, and was met by a counter proclamation from Governor Hayne, expressed in terms of lofty defi- ance, on the 20th of the same month. The warlike aspect of these two documents, exhibiting on the one hand, a determination to put down South Carolina by force, and on the other, a resolution to resist unto death, very naturally excited an alarm for the safety of the Union, in all parts of the United States, which pre-disposed a majority of the people in favor of conciliatory measures. In South Carolina, pre. parations of the most vigorous and efficient kind were everywhere made for the defence of the State; and in these arrangements the Governor took an active and conspicuous part. The proceedings which took place in Congress, on the 2d of March, 1833, are too well known to need a recapitulation here. Suffice it to say, that the simultaneous passage of a bill modifying the tariW and of one designed to enforce the collection of the revenue, put an end to the apprehensions of an ap- proaching conflict between the Federal Government and the State of South Caro- lina, which induced the Convention, on the 15th of March, to enact an ordinance, repealing the previous one of the 24th of November. Of this Convention General Hayne was elected President at its second session, which commenced on the 11th of March, and closed on the 18thGeneral Hamilton having previously resigned. From this memorable epoch until the month of December, 1834, Governor Hayne continued in the Executive chair, though not without having subjects of ex- citing interest to demand his solicitude. The spirit of party in South Carolina had not been appeased by the settlement of the dispute with the Government at Washington. The predominant party were desirous of enforcing obedience to the State, in all future conflicts, by demanding an oath of allegiance, while the minority threatened resistance to any law which should be designed to exact it. In casting oil upon these troubled waters, Governor Hayne was mainly instrumental, by put- ting forth a proclamation enjoining obedience to the decision of the Court of Ap- peals, which pronounced unconstitutional a military oath enjoined by the Legisla- ture, in opposition to the decided opinion entertained by the party in power. Perhaps to this wise and prudent course of the Governor may be traced that gra- dual relaxation of the spirit that urged the enforcement of an oath of allegiance, which subsequently terminated in the reconciliation of the two parties in the Legis- lature, commemorated by the almcst unanimous election of Mr. MclDuffie as Governor of the State, and the abandonment of the bill designed to exact an oath of allegiance. On the fourth of July, 1836, he was elected President of the great Railroad Convention, then assembled at Knoxville, Tennessee, consisting of four hundred members, whose deliberations he presided over for five days, with ease, dignity, and a great despatch of business. On the organization of the Railroad Company, he was elected a Director, and immediately after, by the unanimous vote of the board, he was elected President, and continued in that high station to his death, which happened at Ashville, North Carolina, on the 24th of September, 183~, in the forty- eighth year of his age. To this, my great enterprise, his death has put a stop, at least for many years to come, but it must and will be accomplished. General Hayne had very extensive connexions, many of whom looked up to him for aid, and never looked in vain. The great leading trait, in the character of this great man, has bean overlooked; it was the wonderful talent of controlling the actions of others, unfelt and unseen. They knew not the eye that directed, nor the hand that led them, but felt and fol 1840.] William Lowndes. 239 lowed the unseen guide, as if it were an act of their own volition. His death has made a chasm in South Carolina which they have no man to fill; there is no tread- ing in his footstepsnot but what they have the talent, but the people have not the confidence. No man was ever so mourned in that State before; it was not the unequalled pageant that spoke their griefs, but it was the pouring out of their hearts upon the grave of their great and good friend, that told their tale of wo. For myself, I lost in him a long and tried friend, who was near and dear tome; but as he was gathered to his fathers full of honors, and in the midst of his fame, he died as the great should ever wish to die. Let us not be deceived; it is for ourselves we mourn and not for him. * * * * WILLIAM LowNeEsIt often happens that men pre-eminent for talent and for the possession and exercise of every manly and social virtue sink into their graves with scarcely a passing iotice. The fate of the great and good man whose name heads this article is, incomparably, the most striking instance I ever knew of the kind. William Lowndes was the third son of Rawlins Lowndes, by Sarah, his third wife, and was born in Charleston, S. C., February 7th, 1782. He went with his mother to England, at the age of seven years, where he had the benefit of the Eng- lish Grammar Schools for three years, and then returned with his mother to Charleston, and commenced a classical education with the Rev. Dr. Simon Felix Gallagher, of the Roman Catholic Church, a man alike renowned for great learning, and the happy talent of communicating it to others; who onee said, speaking of Lowndes, when a student, that his mind drank up knowledge, as the dry earth did the rain from Heaven. Under the tuition of this eminent teacher; he conti- nued until he entered the office of that distinguished lawyer and jurist, the late venerable Chancellor Des Saussure, to study law. In September, 1802, he married Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Major General Thomas Piuckney. In 1804, he made overtures to John S. Cogdell, Esq., (who was just rising into notice at the bar, having then, recently been appointed City Attorney, the first ap- pointment that was made to that office,) to join him in the practice of the law, to which Mr. Cogdell readily assented, until Mr. Lo~ ndes, in the most delicate man- ner possible, gave him to understand that he would not receive any portion of the income of the office; that his object was, to serve Mr. C. To this the pure and high- minded Cogdell promptly refused to assent, and would hear to no terms, but a per- fect equality. Mr. Lowndes yielded to his wishes, and they commenced practice together under the firm of Cogdell and Lowndes. This was in March, 1840. The last week in September, or the first in October, the same year, there was a very destructive storm, which did much damage to the plantations, and Mr. Lowndes, whose planting interest was extensive, suffered severely, so much 50, as to make his permanent residence in the country necessary for some time. He took leave of Mr Cogdell and the office, remarking, that he feared he had not been of much service to him. Their friendship continued unchangeable to Mr. Lowndes death. Mr. Cogdell still lives, in the full enjoyment of health, vigor, and usefulness, as the President of the South Carolina Bank. There are few better men, or more useful citizens, anywhere. In 1806, Mr. Lowndes was elected to the Legislature of his native State, in which he served two or three terms, of two years each. It was there that the great powers of his clear ciceronian mind, so conspicuous in all his after life, first began to display themselves in all their wisdom and beauty. In October, 1810, he was elected to the eleventh Congress, from Beaufort dis- trict, and continued in Congress until 1822, when the want of health compelled him to resign his seat in that body. When there, he spoke comparatively but seldom; but when he did speak, he was listened to as the oracle of truth. There was no- thing of the partisan about him; his language was so pure, and his statements anti 240 Waskington and Gouverneur Morris. [September, deductions so clear and correct, that none pretended to dispute them. His sole object was his country, his whole country, and nothing but his country. In 1818, or 19,1 cannot say which, he went to Europe for the recovery of his health. I was there in 1820, and followed directly in his path. The first question put to me upon almost all occasions, was, do you know Mr. Lowudes 3 1 took pleasure in answering that I not only knew him, but had known him intimately from his boyhood. His greatness and goodness were the theme of every tongue. Mr. Roscoe related to me the following anecdote: Mr. Lowndes was a very early riser, and so arranged matters with the porter of the AthenHum, that he could have ad.. mission at an early hourit was here that he whiled away the time until breakfast. One morning when he was thus engaged, another gentleman entered, and from at- traction, or some other cause, they soon came in contact, and got into conversation together, neither having any knowledge of the other. They forgot their breakfasts, and were not awkre how time had passed, until they found the great room, in which they were, rapidly filling up, when they separated still ignorant of each others names. Upon change, some hours after, the Englishman met Mr. ~oscoe, and related to him his morning interview with the great unknown, and observed that he was the tallest man, and the most unassuming man he ever saw, and a man of the greatest intellect he ever hear(l speak. Mr. Roscoe immediately replied, it is the great American, Lowndes, you have been conversing with; come and dine with me to.morrow, and I will introduce you to him. Immediately after his resignation in 1822, he again embarked for Europe, ac- companied by his wife and daughter, and died at sea, October 27th, 1822, in the 41st year of his age. Thus died a man who certainly left no superior, and very few, if any, equals behind him. That trait of character in which he excelled all his cotemporaries, was wisdom. It was the same trait of character, in a greater extent, which distinguished the Father of his Country from all other men, in all times. When Mr. Lowndes was applied to, to become a candidate for the Presi- dency, his reply was worthy of a Washington, and should be engraven upon the heart of every American: IT 15 AN OFFICE NEITHER TO BE SOUGHT FOR, NOR DE- cLINED. The answer shows him as he wasamong the wise, the wisest; among the good, the best. The following anecdote of Washington and Gonverneur Morris we have not met before: It has often been asserted by his intimate friends, and even by some of his biographers, that few men had the nerve to approach him with familiarity. The following anecdote, illustrative of this fact, I have often heard repeated, and its truth was confirmed to me by gentlemen in New York, who had the best opportu- nity of knowing. The late Gouverneur Morris, in conversation with some friends on this sub- ject one day, when Congress sat in New York, and Washington occupied the house then in front of the Bowling Green, denied the correctness of this opinion, and offered to test the truth of it at once, by joining him in the garden, where Washington was walking, alone and in thek view. A bet was made, and Mr. Morris went itnmediately into the garden to decide it. He approached the Presi- dent in the rear, and as he came up alongside gave him a familiar tap on the shoul- der, at the same time addressing him familiarly with how do you do, sir 3 Washington turned his head and echoed back the question, with all that dignity which distinguished him from all other men. Morris was petrified; and returning to his friends, declared that notlling would tempt him to repeat the experiment. Although he had been for years in almost daily intercourse with this wonderful man, and supposed he might be approached like other men under similar circum- stances, he felt his soul sink within him at the look and tone of voice with which his question was answered. 1840.1 WashingtonGeneral Ward. 241 For myself, I can only say, that I have stood in the presence of kings, and sat at table with princes, without any of those feelings of awe and reverence, which came over me like a summer cloud when in his presence, although then in the recklessness of boyhood. * * * * * Washingtons style of travelling comported with the marked dignity of his cha- racter; on the occasion above-mentioned it was as follows It was his general practice to enter a town in his chariot, and leave it on horseback. His post-chariot was drawn by four beautiful bay horses, and driven by postillions in blanket coat, liveries, jockey caps, buckskins and boots; while upon his right, on horseback, rode Colonel Lear, and on his left, Major Jackson: next came a light baggage wagon, drawn by two fine bay horses, driven hy a white man in a round corduroy jacket, glazed hat, buckskins and boots; while faithful Billy brought up the rear, mounted on a fine blood horse, and leading the generals white charger, presented him by Charles the Fourth, of Spain. It was precisely in this style that I saw him enter Worcester, followed by a cavalcade of gentlemen on horseback. When he left it, the only change was that he mounted his charger and rode between his two secre- taries, Lear and Jackson; while the empty chariot and the remainder of his equip- age followed after, with troops of horse and cavalcades of horsemen, increasing as they went, until they arrived at Boston. But can it be possible that living man ever addressed to him the expression related in the following ? It is an extraordinary fact, that the life of no man, of any age or nation, who has risen to greatness, ever afforded so few anecdotes as his. One, however, I well remember to have heard frequently spoken of soon after it occurred; it was this: Directly after the British were compelled to quit Boston, which was besieged by Washington, with General Ward second in command, Ge- neral Ward resigned his commission, which circumstance was thus spoken of by Washington, in a letter to Congress: no sooner is the seat of war removed from beyond the smoke of his own chimneys, than General Ward resigns his command. About the ti,ne of the organization of the government under the Constitution, General Ward was informed of this remark, and being elected to the second con- gress, soon after his arrival at the seat of government, (then New York,) he took a friend with him and called upon Washington, and asked him if it was true, that he had made use of such language. The president replied that he did not know; but he kept copies of all his letters, and would take an opportunity of examining them, and give him an answer at the next session. Accordingly, at the next session Ge- neral Ward called again with his friend, and received for answer, that he (Wash- ington) had written to that effect. Ward then said, Sir, you are no gentleman, turned on his heel and left him, and here, of course, the matter ended. I have recently met with the confirmation of an important fact I had heard mentioned nearly half a century ago; but I do not know that it has found its way into any biography of Washington. It is this: that Governor Johnson, of Maryland, requested Mr. John Adams to nominate Washington for commander-in-chief; that Adams seemed to decline, and Johnson made the nomination. At a previous meet- ing of the New England delegation, to consult upon this subject, General Ward was agreed upon with the consent of every man present, but Mr. Adams, who dis- sented, and declared himself in favor of Washington. Great God, how often was the fate of this country suspended by a single hair This was one of the numerous instances. When Ramasy wrote his biography, he sought in vain among the friends and neighbors of the illustrious dead, for those little incidents which so often enliven the page of the biographer. VOL. VIII. NO. XXXIII.SEPTEMBER, 1840. P 242 Hancock. [September, In 1797, Lord Erskine wrote a book, in which he introduced the name of Washington, and sent him a copy, with a note to this effect, written upon a blank leaf of it : It has been my good fortune, through life, to be associated with the most talented and distinguished men of Europe; but you, sir, are the only human being for whom I ever felt a reverential awe, totally unlike anything I ever felt toward any other of the human race.~ ~ The following reminiscences of Hancock and old Samuel Adams are not to be omitted JOHN HANcOcKThe memory of this great patriot, statesman, and orator has been most grossly neglected. While hundreds, whose services in the cause of In- dependence were not a tythe of his, have been eulogized to the skies, and live on canvass and in marble, this great patriots name but seldom finds a place even when celebrating that freedom he was among the very first, if not the first, to risk his life in obtaining. I have, for years, noticed this neglect, with feelings of unfeigned regret. Never was a man more beloved by any people, than Hancock was by the people of Massachusetts. With the exception of a single year, when Bowdoin was put in, he was, for sixteen successive years, elected their governor, and closed his pa- triotic and illustrious life in that high station. Hundreds of times have I seen him, when so worn out, and crippled by disease, that he could not stand, taken from his carriage into the arms of two faithful servants, (who regularly attend~id for the pur- pose,) and carried up to the council chamber, a distance of nearly fifty yards from the street. The last time he addressed his fellow-citizens, was the most impressive scene I ever witnessed. A town meeting was called, upon a question of great ex- citement. Old Faneuil Hall could not contain the people, and an adjournment took place to the Old South Meeting-house. Hancock was brought in, and carried up into the front gallery, where the Hon. Benjamin Austin supported him on the right, and the celebrated Dr. Charles Jarvis upon the left, while he addressed the multi- tude. The governor commenced, by stating to his fellow-citizens, that he felt, it was the last time he should ever address themthat the seeds of mortaLity were growing fast within him. The fall of a pi~ might have been heard, such a death- like silence pervaded the listening crowd, during the whole of his animated and soul-stirring speech, while tears ran down the cheeks of thousands. The meeting ended, he was conveyed to his carriage, and taken home, but never again appeared in publichis death followed soon after. The corpse was embow- elled, and kept for eight days, to give an opportunity to the citizens, from the most distant parts of the State, to render the last tribute of respect to his memory. They came by thousands and tens of thousandsthe procession was an hour and a half in passing. The post of honor, among the military, was given to the Concord Light Infantry, under Captain Davis, the same who commanded them on the ever memo- rable nineteenth of April, 75. It was the most solemn, and interesting, and incom- parably the longest funeral procession I ever saw. Samuel Adams, who was lieutenant-governor, became governor, ez-officio, by the death of Hancock, and fol- lowed the bier, (there were no hearses, with nodding plumes, in those days,) as chief mourner, but the venerable patriot could not endure the fatigue, and was compelled to retire from the procession. Hancock, as an orator, had no equal. He seized upon the passions of his hear- ers, and led them captive at his pleasure; none could resist. A gentleman who heard him deliver his great oration, commemorative of the massacre of the fifth of March, seventeen hundred and seventy, told me that the multitude who listened to it were wrought up to such a pitch of phrenzy, that a single sentence from the orator, calling upon them to take arms, and drive the murderers from their town~ would have been at once carried into effect. Such was. his control over them~ 1840.J Hancock. 243 many could not keep their seats, from indignation. I read this oration in my youth; it abounds In thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. It made my young blood run coursing through my veins, and the hair on my head to stand erect, as I read it. I said to myself, with the old Roman, if such is the effect from reading, what would it have been to have heard him deliver it P His form was elegant; his face beautiful, manly, and expressive; his eye piercing; his voice, flexible. He could raise his hearers to the highest pitch of phrenzy, or sooth them into tears, at pleasure. It was THI5 ORATiON which first prepared the minds of men to resist the oppres- sion of the British government. From the day it was delivered, it was the deter- mination of thousands, that at the first opportunity afforded them they would burst the bands that bound them, and abide the consequences. Four years after, the opportunity was presented, at Lexington, and our nations Independence was the result.* Hancock, before the Revolution, was a man of vast fortune; and although he permitted it to flow, in the cause of his country, like water, he had still enough left to support a splendid establishment, and lived and entertained like a prince. His generosity was unbounded. I well remember that one evening in each week, * The following addition to the above anecdote appears on a subsequent page: The venerable and learned Doctor JNOAR WEBSTER, in a letter of July, 1840, re- ceived too late to be inserted in their proper place, and too interesting to be omitted, has favored me with the two following anecdotes, for which he will please accept my thanks. The first, in relation to Hancock, I have known for more than half a century; and know, farther, who wrete the oration; it was written by the then celebrated Rev. Dr. Cooper; but any man who ever heard Hancock address a public assembly, as 1 have, could not for a moment doubt his ebilitij to write such an oration; the object was, to get him committed beyond the hope of pardon, and that oration did it completely. New Haven, July 29, 1840. Ma. THOMAs: I see in the sheets of your Reminiscences, which you have been so good as to send for my perusal, that you have mentioned the electric effect which the oration of Mr. Hancock, March 5, 1774, had upon the audience. This reminds me of an anecdote re- lated to me by the late Judge Trumbull, of this State. In the year 1774, Mr. Trumbull was a student of law in the office of John Adams. Mr. Hancock was, at that time, a wavering character; at least he was so considered by the leading whigs of that day. It was a matter of no small importance to bring him to a decision, as to the part he was to take in the crisis then approaching. To effect this object the more stanch leading whigs contrived to procure Mr. Hancock to be appoint- ed to deliver an oration on the anniversary of the Massacre; and some of them wrote his oration for him, or a considerable part of it. This policy succeeded, and Mr. Han- cock became a firm supporter of the American cause. Judge Trumbull related to me these facts, as from his personal knowledge; and no person will question his veracity. I have another anecdote, derived from the late Rev. Nathan Strong, of Hartford, and coming to me through the Hon. Elizur Goodrich. When the question of taking arms to resist the claims of Great Britain was to be de cided in Connecticut, the Legislature held a secret session, and debated the question a whole day. The result was in favor of resistance; and it is said the most iafiuen~ial character in deciding the question was the Hon. Titus Hosmer, the father of the late Chief Justice Hosmer, of Middletown. I give you these anecdotes as I have received them; and if you deem them of any value, they are at your service. I am, Sir, with respect, Your obedient servant, E. S. TMOMAS, ESQ. N. WBBSTER. 244 Samuel Adams. [September, during summer, a full band of music, at his own expense, attended in front of his venerable stone mansion, at the head of the Common, to entertain the citizens who were promenading on the mall. He seldom left Boston to visit at any distance; but when he did, he was always escorted by a volunteer troop of cavalry, who held themselves in readiness for that purpose. He was very fond of joke and repartee, so much so, that a worthy citizen of Boston, Nathaniel Balch, Esq., a hatter, who never failed to appear among the invited guests at his hospitable board, obtained the unenvied appellation of the Governors Jester. The celebrated Brissot, in his travels in the United States, speaks of his meeting this gentleman at Hancocks ta- ble; and such was the mutual attachment between the governor and Mr. Balch, that if the former was called away, no matter what distance, Squire Balch attend- ed him, like his shadow, which the following circumstance most happily illustrates. Governor Hancock was called on to visit the then province of Maine, on which oc- casion he travelled in state, and was attended by the Hon. Col. Orne, one of the Executive council, and Nathaniel Balch, Esq. Their arrival at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, was thus humotously announced : On Thursday last, arrived in this town, Nathaniel Belch, Esq., accompanied by his Excellency, John Hancock, end the Hon. Azor Orne, Esq. * * * * * SAMUEL ADAMSI have taken for my subject on this occasion, recollections of SAMUEL ADAMS, who, though not a hero without example, was a patriot without reproach. In speaking of circumstances so long passed, I shall speak only of what I know; never having read the Biography of the Signers of the Declaration of In- dependence, I know not what account may there be given of any of them. I never saw Mr. Adams until the year 1792; he was then far in the vale of years, with a constitution which was, judging from his appearance, naturally strong, but then nearly worn out, not with toil, but care. He still continued to use all the ex- ercise his strength would admit, by visiting, almost daily, a Mr. Hughs, a constable, a respectable calling in Boston in those days, whatever it may be now. They had been friends from early life, and the same intimacy was common between their re- spective ladies. Mr. Adams was then lieutenant.governor, a place of honor, with but little profit, and no duty at all, except in case of the death of the governor, when, ex-officio, the duties of the executive devolved upon the lieutenant. Mr. Adams lived in a large old fashioned frame house, on Winter-street, which had once been painted yellow, but, like its venerable owner, was a good deal the worse for wear. He entertained little or no company, having neither the means nor the in- clination to do it. He was poor. On the death of Governor Hancock, he walked as chief mourner, preceded only by the Hancock piece of artillery. (It is proper here to remark, that the first can- non taken from the British in the war of the Revolution, were two brass four pounders, on one of which was engraven, by order of the State, the name of John Hancock, and on the other, Samuel Adams, with appropriate devices.) Before the almost interminable procession had reached State-street, Mr. Adams strength failed him, and he retired He had then become ex-officie Governor of the State, and at the next election was confirmed in his high office by the votes of the people. The then salary of the Governor of Massachusetts, if my memory serves, was a thou- sand pounds currency, or $3,333but a very small sum toward enabling the in- cuihbent of the Gubernatorial chair, to follow the example, in style and hospitality, set by Hancock, who lived and entertained like a prince. Mr. Adams possessed neither carriage nor horses; but he had been elected Governor but a few weeks, when some gentlemen of Boston presented the venerable patriot with a new and handsome chariot, and a pair of as fine horses as there were in the city. The first use he made of his new equipage, shows the man in a point of view too rare not to be admired; seating himself beside his venerable lady, they drove to Constable Hughs, where the governor alighted, and handing Mrs. Hughs into his seat, the 1840.] Funding and Banking Reminiscences. 245 two old ladies drove off together, while he staid and talked with his old friend, and I stood by devouring their discourse. in 1793, theatrical entertainments were first introduced into Boston after the Revolution. There was an express law against them. Application was made to the legislature to repeal the law, and it passed both houses; but Mr. Adams was theis governor and refused to sign it; and we doubt whether it has ever been re- pealed to this day. It is recorded of Mr. Adams, that a large sum was offered him by agents of the British government, to take sides with it against his native land, but it was indig- nantly spurned, and on a subsequent occasion, when a similar circumstance was al- luded to, he exclsirhed, they well know that a guinea never glistened in my eyes. It was well for our country, and for mankind, that there were such men, in whose eyes guineas did not glisten; they appear to have been raised up for the occasion, and having accomplished the great work given them to do, have disappeared from the face of the earth, and there have arisen in their stead, a race of men so unlike them, that it seems scarcely possible they can be the descendants of such sires. The contrast is striking, and well calculated to make us tremble for the future. The two following extracts will have an agreeable historical inte- rest for our friends in Wall and Chestnut streets: The next event, and by far the most important, after the obtainment of our in- dependence, was the formation of the Constitution; in fact, we were not independent until the Constitution was made and adopted; and although it is not what it ought to be, in my estimation, still, the wonder is, among so many contending interests, not that it is no better, but that it is no worse. What kind of a Constitution would a convention produce now After the Constitution was formed and submitted to the States for their adoption or rejection, the plundering of the poor soldiers was effected. The knowing ones had little or no doubt of the Constit~tion being adopt- ed by a sufficient number of States, (nine,) and that, being adopted, Congress would fund the public debt. Then commenced a scene of legal robbery, such a~ the his- tory of civilized nations can scarcely produce a parallel to. Even mechanics quit their business, to speculate in soldiers notes, which were bought up, in great quan- tities, for two and sixpence, and three shillings, in the pound. Among others, I recollect a large, lazy, journeyman carpenter, by the name of Patch, who threw off his leather apron, and appeared a gentleman at large, and dressed in the most fash- ionable style. Another was a Lynn shoemaker. Fortunes were made, from a few hundred dollars, in a few weeks; and from this arose the aristocracy of wealth in the United States. Words can scarcely convey an idea of the excitement that was kept up, for several years, in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. There were mail-stages in those days, but their snail-like pace did not answer the views of the speculators; they kept expresses continually on the road. When the State of New York adopted the Constitution, it was an event calcu- lated to have a very great effect upon the stock market, and Captain Levi Pease, of Boston, was kept in waiting for the result, with a relay of horses every ten miles, from there to Boston, by the then road, two hundred and fifty miles, which he ac- complished in forty-eight hours, a performance, then, altogether unprecedented. An express once arrived in Boston on a Sunday, when the streets were all alive with people going to church. Instantly the church was lost sight of by hundreds of men, who left their families to find the way without them, while they went upon change, and bought and sold to the amount of hundreds of thousands. There was but one bank in Boston in those days, the old Massachusetts~in fact, there were but two in the United States, the one already mentioned, and one in Philadelphiaand as a sample of the niode of conducting banking business then, the son of the president of the bank in Boston, and two other gentlemen, were per- mitted to draw en the funds of the institution to such an extent as to compel it to 246 United States Bank in 1316Cincinnati. [September, stop discounting for six or eight weeks, while the three gentlemen alluded to went to New York, and there set speculation on foot to an immense extent, by selling and buying soldiers notes, and other public securities, at auction, as was then the cus- torn. The celebrated Colonel Duer was then a great operator upon the stock ex- change in New York, with a good supply of ready money, and high credit, which he used to its full extent, borrowing from oystermen and draymen their little hoard- ings, and totally unsuspicious of the trick the three Yankees were playing him, they having got the stocks up to a price considerably above par, by sham buying and selling. Then it was that the Bostonians threw into market the immense amount they had taken with them, and Duer became the purchaser. The stocks fell twenty or thirty per cent. the next day, and he was compelled to take refuge from his ex- asperated, and in many instances ruined, creditors, within the walls of the jail, from whence he was never liberated. During the first excitement against him, it became necessary to protect him (by calling out the military) from the exasperated people, who had surrounded the prison, with intent to get at him by pulling it down. Col. Duer, by remaining in prison, enabled his family to retain a sufficiency of property to live genteelly, his lady visiting him almost daily in her carriage. * * * * * There was no United States Bank then, (1816.) It was incorporated in Feb- ruary of that year, and went into operation on the first of January following. The charter provided that the capital should be paid in, in specie and six per cent. stock of the United States, in portions of twenty or twenty-five per cent. (I have for- gotten which) every six months. I had provided myself with the means of taking fifty thousand dollars of the stock, but when I found specie at twenty-eight per cent. advance, in Baltimore bank notes, and six per cents. of the United States above par, I presumed that before the second instalment was due, they would both advance in price, as a natural consequence. Under those circumstances, I concluded it was best not to take any of the stock. Had I known that, instead of the requirements of the charter being complied with, it would be violated at the first meeting of the Board, I might as well have taken a hundred thousand dollars of the stock, as let it alone. Those who went deeply into it, knew they could elect the Board of Directors, and understood things better. When the second instalment became due, the small dealers paid in conformity to the charter, but the large ones had their first instalment discounted to pay their second with. The bank then went into operation. The stock rose rapidly, and never ceased rising, until it reached one hundred and fifty- six dollars per share, for full paid shares, in Baltimore. That day the Cashier of one of the banks gave a large dinner party, and I was among the guests. He held a considerable amount of stock, and I advised him to sell it that afternoon, deliver- able the next morning, as business hours were passed; but he declined, assigning for a reason, that having risen so high, there was no knowing at what point it would stop. The next day it began to decline, and n.ever ceased falling until it was down to seventy-five dollars per share In the praise of the fair Queen of the West, Cincinnati, Mr. Thomas is unmeasured in his enthusiasm. It is not, he exclaims, in the number and architectural beauty of her private dwellings and- public buildings, that Cincinnati alone excels; it is in all that consti- tutes refinement and taste. It is her literature, her authors, her arts, her artists, and her numerous literary, scientific, and benevolent insti- tutions, that have already given her a name, not only among the cities of the Great Valley, but of the civilized world, that will go down to the most remote posterity ! Nor does he confine his admiration to general expressions of eulogy. He devotes a number of his pages to 1840.1 Sculpture of Cincinnats. 247 particulars of her commerce, her manufactures, her arts, and her public institutions, in which it is an evident labor of love for him to expati- ate. It thus appears that, notwithstanding the jaundiced eye with which pecuniary disappointment caused Mrs. Trollope to regard everything around her in the same place, the ill success which seems to have attended Mr. Thomass efforts there, to retrieve his broken fortunes, does not prevent his seeing the same objects through a me- dium glowing with the couleur de rose. We have no disposition to soften any of his tints. The citizens of Cincinnati are certainly bound by the most imperative obligation of gratitude to purchase liber- ally Mr. Thomass volumes, to bequeath them as valuable m6- moirespour .~ervir to her future historians of Sixty-Five Years hence and we trust they will not be insensible to the obligation. But there are one or two errors to which he has allowed a place in his account of the Sculpture of Cincinnati, which we take too great an interest in the subject to allow to pass uncorrected. It is as follows About a year ago, (written June 1836,) I noticed, in passing a stone-cutters shop, at the corner of Seventh and Race streets, a grave-stone, which had cut upon it a tomb, with a cherub hovering over, and dropping roses upon it; I was struck with the drawing and execution of the work, and inquired, who did it 2a young man, one of the proprietors of the shop, answered, that he did. I remarked to him that he could do better, and advised him to exert himself for that purpose; he took my advice, and every subsequent piece of his work was better than the preceding. At the time above alluded to, I told him that he could model a bust, if he was to try. He said he would try, if I would sit to him, which was agreed to; and he produced one that was instantly known by all who saw it, that knew the original. He then determined to try his chisel upon a piece of statuary marble, by transferring his model to that more durable material, but there was none to be had here; he sent to Philadelphia and New York, but he could net procure any. I advised him to study anatomy, and he attended to the anatomical course of the Ohio Medical College the following winter. Despairing of being able to procure marble to suit his purpose, he came to the determination of trying what he could accomplish upon the hardest free stone. The result is a bust, which came out like magic from under his chisel, and is pronounced by the many who have seen it, and know the original, to be a good likeness. It is the first ever executed in the Mississippi Valley. He invites his friends, and the friends of the Arts, to call and see it. The artist is CLEVENCER, the future Canova of this country, who adds to mo- desty and talent the most untiring industry. Mr. Clevenger is a native of Ha~nilton county, and has never been any distance from it. Having succeeded so well in the first instance, business poured in upon him; and in the course of a few months he had executed eight or ten busts out of the hard free stone. The lastone before he left the city, was of that excellent man and eminent physician, Doctor Eberle, since deceased. On this he spent much time, and took uncommon pains; and a more perfect likeness, or a more finished piece of work, I have not seen. Had the material been marble, I should not have known where to find its equal. He then went to Lexington, and took Mr. Clays and Governor Poindexters, with many others in New York and Philadelphia, and lately Mr. Websters. The latter is very highly spoken of; so was Mr. Clays, who gave him a certificate to the correctness of the likeness. He is now gone, or is about going, to Italy, where he has been preceded by PowERs, another Cincinnati artist, who has already acquired great fame by a bust of the Grand Duke of Floren~e~ 248 Sculpture of Cincinnati~ [September, which is pronounced to be superior to any produced by their own artists, since Canova. KING is another excellent artist, who has had great and deserved success in the Southern States. Then there is WHETSTONE, scarcely out of his teens, who only wants encouragement to compete with the others ; he designs well. BROWN, both a sculptor and a painter, who has lately been selling off his productions, at Boston, preparatory to a voyage to Italy. I have not seen him, nor any of his works, for two or three years. There is one yet to speak of, who came a sculptor from the hand of nature; it is BRACKErT. He began where others leave off, an artist; his first production could not be found fault with, and he was not then twenty. The following tribute to merit, upon his part, and of compliment to me, is.from the Louisville News Letter, a paper since discontinued. He (Brackett) was in a small room, in the third story of a house, on an obscure street, when that high-priest of art, the venerable editor of the Evening Post, E. S. Thomas, Esq., first heard of and visited him. Mr. T., during several European tours, has seen the renowned productions of the old masters and the most beautiful specimens of modern statuary, and I am fully borne out in saying, that he is one of the most discri~ninating and genuine amateurs in America. It was he who first discovered and encouraged Powers, Clevenger, Beard, and Frankenstein; and to him belongs the honor of fostering the dawning genius of the young and highly gifted Brackett. At the time of which I speak, Mr. B. had seen but two or three pieces of statuary, and had only used his chisel during a few brief leisure days, in tracing the bust of a lovely sister: the face is remarkably beautiful, and I am told is a very true portraiture. In the space of a little better than three monthsa part of which his chisel was idlehe has executed several admirable busts, among which is one of his early friend, Mr. Thomas, and has nearly completed the first statue ever modelled in the Valley of the Mississippi. It is the statue of Nydia, the blind girl of Thes- saly, around whom Bulwer has thrown such magical interest in his Last Days of Pompeii, and during a brief exhibition in his studio, it has excited the admiration of connoisseurs, who have wafted most acceptable incense to the genius of the gifted sculptor. We do not question Mr. Thomass title to the designation of the high-priest of art. But it is a mistake which he ought not to have thus endorsed, to include Powers .with the promising young artists whose genius he was the first to discover and encourage. Mr. Tho- mas, we believe, never saw Powers, and it is evident that he knows but little of his works. So brilliant is the present promise of the cul- tivation which this noblest of the arts of design is destined to receive in this country(an effect of the influence of freedom, analogous to that exhibited by the glorious example of the Grecian republics, in stim- ulating the developement of genius, wherever the divine germ may have heen flung by the liberal hand of nature,)that, without the slightest disparagement to the real merits of the artist to whom he has assigned that honor, the credit of the authorship of the first statue ever modelled in the Valley of the Mississippi, ought not to be di- verted from its rightful owner. Powers, obeying only the untaught and spontaneous instinct within him, is well known to have modelled a number, of great merit, which he cast in wax. This was not less than eight or ten years ago. Of these we need specify but two. The one was a full length statue of an actor named Drake, a great favorite on the Cincinnati boards, to the life-like fidelity of which he obtained 1840] Powers Clevenger. 24 a testimony scarcely less signal than that of the birds in the famous trial of skill between the two Grecian painters. The figure was re- presented in the attitude in which Drake was accustomed to appear on the rising of the curtain, when about to begin a particular comic song, of which we know only the poetically harmonious title Love and Sausages. To test its effect on the audience, the actor on one occa- sion substituted the image in his own stead. It did not fail to be greeted with the wonted round of applausewhich, however, after some moments of impatient delay, became gradually converted into violent tokens of displeasure, with a hissing and booting with which the popular actor had never before been assailed, when the audience perceived the contemptuous indifference which he seemed to exhibit to their applause, and the dogged silence which he showed himself determined to maintain, without even the grateful acknowledgment of a bow to the pit. The curtain fell amid a great uproar. The tumult wbich succeeded, of an opposite character, when it rose again, and exhibited the explanation of the mystery, in the appearance of the original side by side xvith his mute and motionless alter ego, was a triumph, than which the artist, whatever may be the future eminence of fame which he seems destined to attain, can never know a more flattering. The other was a statue of a gentleman recently deceased, the pro- prietor of the Western Museum, in Cincinnati, Mr. Dorfeuille. There was a particular individual well known in the circles of litera- ture and art in Cincinnatiwhose name we suppress, though the story we cannotwho had associated with his name a rather ridicu- lous reputation, as a critic whose vanity was equalled only by his severity, while both were exceeded by the ignorance and incapacity which he brought to this vocationin a word, a worthy scion of the Fadladeen family. The statue being destined for the Museum (where, we presume, it is still to be seen) was placed in a glass case. Our critic was once invited to a close inspection of it, as a work of art. He was as usual very unsparing in abusing the many faults he was very sharp iA detecting. It squinted abotninablythe nose was most unnaturally awryand the legs were beneath criticism. The case being open, he happened to approach the candle which he held in his hand too closely to the face of the figureupon which to his amaze- ment and terror he unconsciously repeated the miracle of Prometheus, eliciting from it, in tones of very earthly and living emphasis, the exclamation, Dn it, dont burn my nose off! Mr. Dorfenille, revers- ing the former experiment, had substituted himself for the image, and had thus extorted as signal a tribute, to the talent of the artist, as he administered a just punishment for the critical seventies of former occasions. Clevenger also, as could not have been unknown to Mr. Thomas, both modelled and catved a statue at Cincinnati several years before P 2 250 ClevengerJolin Airy. [Septemh or, that which he has designated as the first. It was of his own child represented as a Cupid. Of its merit we are unable to speak, though from the evidence of his powers in his art, immature as they are, de- veloped in his other works, we are very sure that it was not unenti- tied to remembrance. Mr. Clevenger is, we understand, on the point of embarking for a residence of ten years in Italy. We look with the highest interest to his realization there, in the midst of the exam- pies and the inspirations of the sunny land of Art, of the fine pro- mise of the performances which have already issued from his hand, an anticipation which Mr. Thomas well embodies in the designa- tion which he applies to him, as the future CANOvA of his country.~~ That he has it in him, we have no doubt; nor, we are well assured, will the resolute devotion and application requisite to bring it forth he wanting, in the generous emulation to which he is committed with his brother artists and townsmen who are in like manner starting with him, in early youth, in their noble career of art. His succes- sive busts have thus far exhibited a marked and rapid progress in the developement of his powers. It is difficult to conceive a higher ex- cellence than that characterizing his bust of Webster~-the only wor- thy likeness of the man that has yet been produced, with the full embodiment of that Ideal which it is the highest object of Sculpture to express. He has also recently executed a very fine bust of Chanchellor Kent, for the bar of New York; and one of the late Samuel Ward, Esq., (mo- delled from a portrait and from the hints of friends,) in which he has admirably combined, with a very correct likencss of features, the trans- parent expression of a character which has endeared to so many hearts the memory of a man of rare though unassuming worthof whom no other eulogy need be, nor higher can be pronounced, than the fact of his having devoted the greater portion of a princely fortune to pur- poses of pious and generous liberality, made known only since his decease by the examination of his papers. But neither Power nor Clevenger was the author of the first sta~ tue ever modelled in the Valley of the Mississippi. Not less than about sixteen years ago, a man whose name deserves to be rescued from the oblivion which has settled upon it removed from Wheeling to CincinnatiJOHN Amy, English by birth, though from early boy- hood an adopted American citizen. He was brought to Cincinnati by the generous patronage of a wealthy citizen of the latter place, Daniel Ganno, Esq., to execute a tomb for his father, General Ganno. He died after a residence in, Cincinnati of about five years, within which time he bad executed three works for his liberal employer, two has-reliefs ornamenting different portions of the extensive warehouse of the latter, and the monument. The former represented, the one a Cincinnatus at the plough, and the other a figure of Ceres with the cornucopite, & c. The monument, in the Baptist burying-ground, is 1840.] Jeremy ]3entkam. 251 of ftbout thirty-five feet in height, much ornamented with sculpture, three of its sides being occupied with emblematic has-reliefs, such as figures of Hope, Time bearing off Youth, and a scene of the Resur- rection, in which the dead are bursting from the cerements of the tomb. rp he fourth side presents a complete statue, in a niche, a figure of Crief. These are all works of great beauty and of a high order of talent, and should have been known to the chronicler of the Arts of Cincinnati. They are executed in a very fine material abound- ing on the spot, a light gray freestone, of very pure color, sufficiently hard, and of a beauty and closeness of texture well adapting it to the purposes of sculpture. Poor Airy was afflicted with all the nervous sensitiveness too often the curse of genius, and suffered himself to be so morbidly affected by some pecuniary disappointments, that he fell into habits which are probably remembered against him by many who forget the better qualities which toward the close of his life they ob- scured. Peace though with his memory, and at least the justice which we have here attempted to render it, whatever may hereafter be the worth of the honor which Mr. Thomas has, unintentionally of course, transferred from his to another name. JEREMY BENTHAM.* A WRITER in the Westminster Review remarks, that the two men of the present age, who have most strongly influenced the minds of their countrymen, are Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Jeremy Bentham. Without questioning the accuracy of the observation, as it respects Cole- ridge, we think there can be no doubt of the truth of so much of it as applies to Bentham. Whatever may have been the influence of the former, whose researches were mostly in the region of abstract thought, and whose sympathies were altogether with the past, it must have been of that occult and delicate nature which only a few learn to appreciate. But the influence of Bentham, with his practical cast of mind, with his rugged sense, with his contemptuous disregard of authority, with his bold onsets upon cherished modes of faith, and with the immediate interest attached to all his inquiries, must have made itself felt speedily, and that in a shape which might be easily recognised. He addressed himself to affairs connected with the every-day business of men; and if the results of his investigations had not arrested attention, it would have been owing, not to those in- vestigations themselves, but to his peculiar manner of treating them. * Theory of Legislation, By Jeremy Bentham. Boston: Weeks, Jordan & Co. 1840.

Jeremy Bentham 251-271

1840.] Jeremy ]3entkam. 251 of ftbout thirty-five feet in height, much ornamented with sculpture, three of its sides being occupied with emblematic has-reliefs, such as figures of Hope, Time bearing off Youth, and a scene of the Resur- rection, in which the dead are bursting from the cerements of the tomb. rp he fourth side presents a complete statue, in a niche, a figure of Crief. These are all works of great beauty and of a high order of talent, and should have been known to the chronicler of the Arts of Cincinnati. They are executed in a very fine material abound- ing on the spot, a light gray freestone, of very pure color, sufficiently hard, and of a beauty and closeness of texture well adapting it to the purposes of sculpture. Poor Airy was afflicted with all the nervous sensitiveness too often the curse of genius, and suffered himself to be so morbidly affected by some pecuniary disappointments, that he fell into habits which are probably remembered against him by many who forget the better qualities which toward the close of his life they ob- scured. Peace though with his memory, and at least the justice which we have here attempted to render it, whatever may hereafter be the worth of the honor which Mr. Thomas has, unintentionally of course, transferred from his to another name. JEREMY BENTHAM.* A WRITER in the Westminster Review remarks, that the two men of the present age, who have most strongly influenced the minds of their countrymen, are Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Jeremy Bentham. Without questioning the accuracy of the observation, as it respects Cole- ridge, we think there can be no doubt of the truth of so much of it as applies to Bentham. Whatever may have been the influence of the former, whose researches were mostly in the region of abstract thought, and whose sympathies were altogether with the past, it must have been of that occult and delicate nature which only a few learn to appreciate. But the influence of Bentham, with his practical cast of mind, with his rugged sense, with his contemptuous disregard of authority, with his bold onsets upon cherished modes of faith, and with the immediate interest attached to all his inquiries, must have made itself felt speedily, and that in a shape which might be easily recognised. He addressed himself to affairs connected with the every-day business of men; and if the results of his investigations had not arrested attention, it would have been owing, not to those in- vestigations themselves, but to his peculiar manner of treating them. * Theory of Legislation, By Jeremy Bentham. Boston: Weeks, Jordan & Co. 1840. 252 Jeremy Bent/lam. [September, lie was, however, equally successful in the selection and in the treat- inent of his subject. Few men ever lived that have infused their con- victions more deeply into the minds of their contemporaries. During his life, his works, though not without reputation, were hardly estimated at their real value; and it was only after they had founded a distinct and independent school of thinkers, when the worth of his conclusions had been brought to a practical test, when a host of accomplished and persevering disciples had forced them upon the consideration of tbe British Parliament, when discussion had proved their validity, and hostility and denunciation had revealed their strength, that Bentham was acknowledged as the great luminary of his era, the leader and teacher of the vast, ever-expanding, and all-conquering patty of Re- form. Since then, his place as the nucleus of that party, into whose folds all who are not wedded to things as they are must be gathered, has been admitted. It is an undeniable fact. Jeremy Bentham is the father of law reform, the founder of legislative science, the pow- erful advocate of political emancipation, and a distinguished friend of the moral advancement of the human race. In this capacity we propose briefly to consider his merits, accom- panying our comments only, with such personal notices, as are neces- sary to enable the reader more thoroughly to comprehend the man. First, then, a few words of Bentham himself. He was born in London, in the year 1747, and was remarkable in childhood for the quickness of his parts, and the solidity of his judgment. At three years of age he read for amusement Rapins History of England; at eight was a skilful performer on the violin; and at thirteen com- menced his collegiate studies in Oxford. It was at this early period that his inquiring and conscientious turn of mind manifested itself; for being required to sign the Thirty-Nine Articles of the established church, he did so reluctantly, and the act ever afterward proved to him an occa- sion of deep regret. He looked upon it as deliberately setting his seal to what he thought to be false, as a species of self-degradation which disturbed the clearness of his moral convictions and broke the integrity of his spirit. His father, who was an attorney of some note, gave him the opportunity of becoming a profound and skilful lawyer. Nor did he fail to prosecute his studies with immense labor and re- search; not, however, in the spirit of those who ordinarily pursue that prolession, but with the discrimination of a philosopher and the zeal of a philanthropist. He was sooth disgusted with the technical false- hood he found pervading every branch of the law, which, in con- riexion with the repugnance excited by its indirectness, inconsisten- cies, unjust arrangements and barbarous phraseology, inspired him with the ambition of devoting his life to its reform. The first fruits of his purpose appeared in a short essay, called a Fragment on Govern- ment, published anonymously in 1776. It was the criticism of an episode in Blackstones Commentaries, written with singular clear- 1840.] Jeremy Bent ham. 253 ness and vigor, but hypercritical in its tone, though distinguished in many passages by astute observation, and reasoning at once logical and profound. It is some sign of the estimation in which this work was held on its first appearance, both as a literary and philosophical performance, that it was successively ascribed to Lord Camden, Lord Mansfield, and to Mr. Dunning, one of the most accomplished law- yers of the day. It was followed by the publication, two years after- ward, of a review of the Hard Labor Bill, with observations rela- tive to jurisprudence in general, which contained the germ of several sagacious doctrines unfolded at length in later and more detailed works. Then came the Defence of Usury, a tract of remarkable force, and one of the best specimens of the exhaustive mode of rea- soning ever printed. In less than two years, the Introduction to the principles of Morals and Legislation appeared, being the first extended and methodical exposition of his peculiar notions that had been given. This work gave him a place at once among the think- ers of the day. The originality of its arrangement and expression, together with the boldness of its views and the pertinacity with which they were pressed, arrested the attention of the leading minds of that period. Some few hailed the new teaching as the harbinger of more liberal and consistent methods of treating the great questions of government and moral science, but more looked upon it as an extra- vagant reproduction of exploded theories, better adapted to excite merriment, than to awaken inquiry, or to become the occasion of a radical and comprehensive reformation of the laws. Many, however, confessed the peculiar vigor and acuteness of the authors intellect, although few were inspired with confidence in his judgment. Yet the book worked its way. One after another, distinguished men were compelled to admit, if not the soundness of his conclusions in detail, the general necessity of subjecting law to a thorough revision. Meanwhile, the author himself, apparently content to allow his theo- ries to bide the test of rigid scrutiny, busied himself in sending forth pamphlets upon the various minor and collateral branches of the great subject to which he had given his life. Draughts of codes, essays on political tactics, on colonial emancipation, on pauper management, on parliamentary reform, on church abuses, on the art of instruction, on the liberty of the press, on codification, and a hundred other matters, followed each other in rapid succession. But a treatise on the Rationale of Judicial Evidence was the largest and most ela- borate of the works then published. It was filled with profound thoughts and instructive suggestions, and soon became the foundation of important changes in the law of procedure. No one read it with- out acquiring a deep conviction of the reach, strength, astuteness and integrity of the intellect from which it sprung. It detected the ab- surdity of the old practice with so much skill, exposed it with sc~ much point and vivacity, and unfolded a better scheme with so much 254 Jeremy Bentham. [September, judgment and tact, that it readily obtained for the author the reputation and rank of a master-mind. Three of Benthams treatises, and those not among the least impor- tant, were published in French, and possessed a wide continental in- fluence before they were generally known to his countrymen. This arose from the careless habit of writing into which, in the latter part of his life, he suffered himself to fall. Abandoning that clear and nervous style which marked his earlier works, he indulged in loose, irregular, and unintelligible modes of expression. His thoughts were not written out, but dotted down, sometimes in briefest outline, and at others, in an uncouth and perplexing jargon. Catalogues, synoptical tables, summaries, references, brief hints, interspersed with long dis- sertations, composed the bulk of his manuscripts. Fortunately, these fell into the hands of an ardent and accomplished disciple, in the per- son of Dumont, a citizen of Geneva, for some time an eloquent preacher at St. Petersburg, but who had come to London at the request of the Lansdowne family. There he formed the acquaintance of Bentham, and entered at once with zeal and activity into all his speculations and plans. Never was a literary friendship formed under happier auspices. To a thorough appreciation of, and profound reverence for, Benthams genius, he united great patience of labor, a quickness of apprehension, indefatigable public spirit, and a felicitous style of writing. His manners, says Lord Brougham, were as gentle as they were polished and refined. His conversation was a model of excellence ; it was truly delightful. Abounding in the most agreeable and harmless wit, fully instinct with various knowledge, diversified with anecdotes of rare interest, enriched with all the stores of modern literature, seasoned with an arch and racy humor, and occasionally a spice of mimicry, or rather of acting, but subdued, as to be pala- table it must always be, and giving rather the portraiture of classes than of individuals, marked by the purest taste, enlivened by a gayety of disposition still unclouded, sweetened by a temper that nothing could ruffle, presenting especially perhaps the single instance of one distinguished for colloquial powers, never occupying above a few mo- ruents at a time of any ones attention, and never ceasing to speak that all his hearers did not wish him to go on, it may fairly be said, that his conversation was the highest which the refined society of London and of Paris afforded. No man accordingly was more court- ed by all classes; no loss was ever felt more severely than his de- cease; and no place in the most choice circles of literary and political commerce is so likely long to remain vacant. To this man was committed the task of compiling, arranging, condensing, filling out and translating several of the best of Benthams manuscripts. rphe services which he rendered in this way xvere an invaluable assistance to his master, but not so great as has sometimes been represented. Says Mr. Macauley, himself one of the most eloquent and accom~ 1840.] Jeremy Bent/lam. 255 pushed living writers of English If M. Dumont had never been born, Mr. Bentham would still have been a very great man. But he would have been great to himself alone. The fertility of his mind would have resembled the fertility of those vast American wildernesses in which blossoms and decays a rich but unprofitable vegetation, wherewith the reaper filled not his hand, neither he that bindeth up the sheaves his bosoni. It would have been with his discoveries as it had been with the Century. of Inventions. His speculations on law would have been of no more practical use, than Lord Worces- ters speculations on steam-engines.~ But this is a mistake which does great injustice to Ben~ham. As much as he was indebted to Dumont, it was only for a small part of his fame. To say nothing of those works in which the latter had no hand, works that under any circumstances would have raised the author to eminence, it must be admitted that as Bentham had the power to be perfect, it is proba- ble, had there been no overtures of friendly assistance, he would have undertaken the task which another accomplished for him. Dumont was at all times solicitous to decline the merit of having been the au- thor of the works published under his editorship. I declare, said he, I have no share, no claim of association in the composition of these works. They belong entirely to the author and to him alone. The more I esteem them, the more desirous I am to disavow an honor which would be an usurpation as contrary to the faith of friendship, as it is repugnant to my personal character. Again, he observes: My labor, subaltern in its kind, has been limited to details. It was necessary to make a choice among various observations on the same subject; to suppress repetitions; to throw light upon obscurities ; to bring together all that appertained to the same subject; and to fill up those gaps which in the hurry of composition the author had left. I have had more to retrench than to add ; more to abridge than to ex- pand. The mass of manuscripts put into my hands was considerable. I have had much to do in attaining correctness, and preserving uni- formity of style ; little or nothing as it respects fundamental ideas~ A profusion of riches left me only the care of economy. This~ while it explains the nature of Dumonts labors, acquits Bentham of the debt with which in Mr. Macaulays essay he is charged. The work at the head of this paper presents, in a portable form, the best summary of his doctrines that has been published. It is a trans- lation, by Richard Hildreth, of Boston, from the French edition of Etienne Dumont, originally printed in Paris in 1802, with a supple- nientary essay upon the influence of time and place on laws, which does not appear in this edition. If any person would obtain a correct general idea of Benthams system, without wading through the ponde~ rous and often repulsive tomes over which the details of it are scattered, he will find all that he wishes in this succinct yet compre~. hensive collection of Dumont. It is distributed into three parts, th 256 Jeremy Bentkam. [September, first giving the general principles of legislation; the second, the principles of the civil code; and the third, the principles of the penal code. As a manual of political and legal ethics it is an inestimable offering, and the thanks of the community are due the translator for his attempt to render its doctrines more widely known to the Amen- can public. He has introduced it seasonably; at a time when the subject of law reform is beginning to be agitated in the legislatures of several of the States, and when the young men of the nation, as we fondly believe, are attaching themselves to sentiments of demo- cratic freedom and progress. It will aid the efforts of the latter in their researches after truth, and the former, should they resolve to be guided by its tenets, would find it a treasury of important instruction. We should augur the happiest results as well to our habits of think- ing as to the moral condition of society, from a profound study of its contents. The legislator who should go forth armed with the wea- pons of this magazine of thought would prove an invincible champion in the cause of justice and truth. Let us, then, proceed to give some account of Benthams general doctrine. As the fairest, as well as completest method of stating it, we shall confine ourselves, as near as may be, to the expressions and reasonings of his own treatises. His fundamental principle, supposed to be present to the mind of the reader in all his works, is, that the public good ought to be the object of the legislator, or, in other words, that general utility, sometimes designated as the greatest good of the greatest number is the only legitimate foundation of le- gislative science. This utility, to which a clear and distinct meaning is to be ever attached, is exclusive of every other principle, and is to be faithfully applied to all cases of legislation, by the most rigid processes of a moral arithmetic. Nature has placed man under the dominion of pleasure and pain. His only object in life is to seek pleasure and avoid pain, even when he imagines himself most free from the empire of these eternal and irresistible sentiments. Utility expresses the property or tendency of a thing to procure some plea- sure or prevent some pain; and that which is conformable to the utility or the interest of a community is what tends to augment the total sum of the happiness of the individuals of which it is composed. Virtue is esteemed by the disciple of the principle of utility as a good only because of the pleasure that it produces, and vice is regarded as an ~evil only on account of the pains which result from it. If he finds, therefore, in the ordinary lists of virtue an action from which there follows more pain than pleasure, he instantly classifies it among the number of vices; and so, on the other hand, if there is found in the common lists of offences some indifferent action, some innocent pleasure, he will not hesitate to transport this pretended offence into the class of lawful actions. To arrive at a correct notion of utility, in any given case, it is ne 1840.] Jeremy lentham. 257 cessary to have a full and accurate knowledge of the different kinds of pleasures and pains. The variety of sensations which we mo- mentarily experience must be minutely analyzed, dividing the simple from the complex, and arranging the whole in catalogues, which will assist the memory, while it renders the judgment more precise. Not only the number but the value or power of pleasures and pains, both as they relate to individuals and as they relate to Communities, must be learned; and this we shall find to depend upon their intensity, their duration, their certainty, their proximity, their productiveness, their purity, and their extent. But inasmuch as all causes of pleasure do not give the same pleasure to all persons, nor all causes of pain produce the same pain, that difference in human sensibility from which that difference of pleasure and pain proceeds must be investigated This difference of sensibility is either in degree or kind ; in degree, when the impression of a given cause upon n~any individuals is uni- form but unequal; in kind, when the same cause produces opposite sensations in different individuals; and in both cases depends prima- rily upon temperament, health, strength, corporeal imperfections, know- ledge, intellectual faculties, firmness of soul, perseverance, the bent of inclination, notions of honor, notions of religion, ser~timents of sympathy, antipathies, disorder of mind, and pecuniary circumstances~ As, however, these causes of different sensibilities cannot be easily appreciated, there ar,e in certain secondary circumstances, viz.: sex, age, rank, race, climate, government, education, and religious profes~ sion, palpable and satisfactory indications of interior dispositions. These secondary circumstances are easily seized, few in number~ readily combine into general classes, and furnish the grounds, in the contrivance of any law, for extenuation or aggravation. Possessed of a knowledge of the true nature of the various kinds of pleasures and pains, we may then take up the analysis of political ~good and evil, and of the manner in which they are diffused through society. It is with government as with medicine, that its main busi. ness is a choice of evils. Law, being an infraction of liberty, is an evil, and hence the legislator, in devising any scheme, is to consider~ first, whether the acts which he undertakes to prevent are really evils ; and secondly, whether, if evils, they are greater evils than the means he employs to suppress them. In ether language, is the evil of the disease or the evil of the remedy the greater? He is to re. member that evil seldom comes alone, but takes different forms, and spreads on every side as from a centre. It first affects the persons immediately concerned in it, and then, by arousing the idea of danger and alarm, affects the whole community~ For the protection and web fare of society, therefore, certain acts are to be erected into offences, by which is meant that they deserve punishment. But some evil acts are not of this sort, and had better be left to the punishments attached to them by the natural or social sanctions, than included in the number vOL. viii. No~ xxxxII.szpTuitmuEx, 1840. Q 258 Jeremy Bentham. [September, of those which are touched by the political sanctions. In making the discrimination, between those which belong to the domain of politics, and those which belong to morals exclusively, resort must be had to the great doctrine of utility, which accompanies this whole inquiry. Here is the sum of his theory. The first thing that occurs to us to say of it is, that Bentham does not seem to have had a deep pene~ tration into the metaphysics of that part of it relating to morals. He appears to have takea his general doctrine for granted, without inves- tigating very profoundly into the grounds of it, and without giving due weight to the elaborate. researches of other philosophers. More of a thinker than a reader, though by no means deficient, as some have alleged, in the latter respect, he fell into a contemptuous mode of treating the subtle inquiries of older metaphysicians. He everywhere regards the results of their speculations (those, we mean, which res~ pect a moral sense, and the grounds of moral obligation) as the mere expression of their individual prejudices and sentiments. They were excuses for dogmatizing, indirect modes of asserting peculiar biases, or adroit contrivances to avoid the appeal to anything like an external standard. He regarded them as quite unintelligible, or intelligible only so far as they inclined toward his own favorite doctrine. In no instance does he make a full and candid statement of what they are, or assign in detail the reasons why they are rejected. He simply enumerates them under one name or another, and then, by a fell stroke of the pen, sweeps them all from the board, as unworthy of farther notice. Nor is he any more explicit in establishing the theory which he sets up in their place. He asserts it boldly, frequently, without compromise, but never demonstrates it; scarcely, indeed, makes an attempt to demonstrate it. His readers must receive it on his dictum, or seek elsewhere for a satisfactory exposition. This logic, summary as it is, might be retorted upon Bentham. If his great doctrine were dismissed in the same way without examina- tion, neither he nor his disciples could justly complain of discourtesy~ But the question, lying as it does at the foundation of all subsequent reasoning, is too important to be passed over thus cavalierly. It must be looked into with no loose nor divided attention. The neglect of it would lead to the same errors into which Bentham fellto wit, a confusion of certain palpable and necessary distinctions, a disregard of some of the most important facts of the human constitution, and a too rigid and sometimes fantastic application of his main principle. The truth is, that Bentham was a man in many respects qualified, and in others disqualified, for the career he had chosen. He wan fitted for it, by the peculiar practical- structure of his intellect, by hin questioning spirit, by his keenness of sensibility, and by his moral independence of judgment. The sphere selected for his exertions involved details which only the most patient and practical mind could endure to investigate; it was surrounded by so many association~ 1840.] Jeremy Bentkam. 259 connected with the past, that no one who deferred to ancient wisdom would dare to attack its outworks, much less the citadel; the spirit of injustice lurking through it, and covered by innumerable subtle and plausible pretexts, could only be detected by one possessing the quick- est sense of wrong; and so thoroughly had it been interwoven with the habits and notions of society, that to make an onslaught upon its weaknesses was to sever the assailant from all the sympathies of his fellows. Bentham was adapted to meet the difficulty at every point. lie was inquisitive, persevering, and fearless. He had the sagacity to perceive defects, the wisdom to suggest the remedy, and the fortitude to expose the one and defend the other, in spite of all hostility. But his very excellencies led him into the weakness of excess. His rea- diness to question degenerated into scepticism, his ability to recon- struct begat a vain desire of superfluous and fantastic theorizing, and his firniness and self-reliance betrayed itself into a contemptuous dis- regard of the opinions of former thinkers. This last became his be- setting sin. From doubting the conclusion of others, he soon grew to despising them; he took nothing for granted; he proved by formal demonstrations the simplest truisms; and addressed his readers as a pedagogue would his pupils, as so many abecedarians to be instructed in the rudiments of knowledge. Benthams moral theory is, that men are universally under the do- minion of pleasure and pain, that happiness being the great and sole object of human life, all things are desirable only as they contribute to that end, and that consequently virtue consists in the production of happiness, or in other words, that we can have no idea of the moral quality of actions apart from their power of producing either pleasure or pain. We have only a few words to say on this head. It will be perceived that there are several questions, more or less distinct, and each requiring an independent consideration, mingled in the statement which has just been given. They may all, however, be resolved into these two: first, are pleasure and pain the sole governing motives of men ?and secondly, is the tendency of an act to produce the greatest amount of happiness the only reason why it is binding upon the con- science ?or to state the same thing in another form, is there no method of testing the morality of an act except by applying to it the standard of general utility? We have no desire of going into a formal investigation of questions of so abstract a nature, or we might take issue with Bentham on each of these points. His first proposition revives the old bone of metaphy- sics, as to the disinterestedness of human virtue. The doctrine of most philosophers, and, we believe, of all men of the world, is, that whatever a man does has relation to his own good; if he is virtuous, it is because it is more agreeable for him to be so than otherwise; and should he be vicious, it is because he finds his greatest pleasure in that. All conduct, in this view, is only a balancing of interests; and Jeremy Bentham. [September, 260 benevolence itself, or what is sometimes called a generous sacrifice, is a mere prudential calculation as to the pleasure and pain of one course or the other. When a missionary, for instance, leaves the comforts of a civilized home, for the miseries of a savage wilderness, he pursues his pleasure merely; he is driven by his fear of remorse and of hell on one side, to brave the perils of want and death on the other, and in this way barely selects the more agreeable alternative. There is a higher pleasure in his view in preachiiig to the savages, than in sharing the luxuries of refined society; and in preferring the former he acts upon the same principle of self-love, as the chimney sweeper would in giving up his sooty rags for the purple linen of a prince. He adds to the number of his agreeable sensations, and on that account, and that account alone, changes his one condition for another. iNew, in reply to such reasoners, we say, there is no doubt that a lofty pleasure attends the exercise of any form of benevolence; but is that pleasureand here is the pointis that pleasure the immediate object of the benevolence? Bishop Butler, the profoundest and acutest of the English metaphysicians, set this matter at rest when he first urged this distinction. The direct object of any human affection is altogether distinct from the pleasure which may accompany its exer- cise; and, though virtue is pleasant and vice painful, the object of the mind in pursuing a virtuous or vicious course, is not the pleasure or pain that attends it, but something entirely different, such as the conferring a benefit or inflicting an injury. The motive, therefore~ may be separated from all considerations of a self-regarding nature. Again, as to Benthams second doctrine, that a moral act is obliga- tory only because of its tendency to produce the greatest amount of happiness, is that true? Before we can answer this question, it must be understood what is meant here by the word because. It means, either a stated antecedence and sequence, that is, that the idea of producing the greatest amount of happiness is invariably followed by the sense moral obligation; or it means, that the idea of right and wrong is com- prehended in the idea of producing the greatest amount of happiness. As to the former, we venture to say, that not a man in the world is conscious of the connexion implied in it, and that no parent, teacher, orator, or writer, when he would awaken the moral feelings of the persons to whom he addresses himself, ever commenced his appeal by -descanting upon the greatest amount of happiness. And as to the latter, the two ideas must either be coextensive, in which case it would be difficult to say which was the cause of the other, or they must not be coextensive, in which case there must be some actions producing the greatest amount of happiness that would not be binding~ or some actions binding upon the conscience which would not pro- duce the greatest amount of happiness; and it is incumbent on those who maintain the theory, to detect the element which marks the dif- ference. In neither way can it be proved that there is this relation 1840.] Jeremy Bentham. 261 of cause and effect existing between the two ideas. Let us see, then, in what niethod we get at the notion of moral obligation. We find, upon analyzing our consciousness, and tracing the feeling that some things ought to be done and others ought not to be done, im- pressed indelibly upon it, that certain dispositions and affections are contemplated with a sense of moral complacency, and others with sentiments of aversion. We find, we say, the following circumstances, which seem to us to be facts :* 1st. That all sentient beings stand in various and dissimilar relations to each other, such as the relation of man to man, parent to child, brother to brother, citizen to citizen, sub- ject to magistrate, recipient to giver, & c. 2d. That as soon as these relations are apprehended by the mind, there spontaneously springs up in the consciousness a feeling of moral obligation connected with the very conception of these relations, or that certain dispositions are to be manifested toward the beings to whom we are thus related ; and 3d. That the nature of these dispositions varies with the nature of these relations, but that they are all pervaded by the same generic feeling of obligation, or ought to do, which on all occasions asserts its supre- macy as the guiding and controlling feeling in the healthy mind. Ac- cording to this statement, the sense of obligation is a part of the human constitution, not to be traced beyond it, and having for its authority the simple fact that we are so made. It is evidently not derived from the idea of the greatest amount of happiness, for whoever contemplates actions simply as useful, or as right, is conscious of a very dissimilar feeling in regard to them. No one that has noticed the interior work- ings of his own mind could fail to have marked the difference, and to have formed as distinct a conception of it as he has of the distinct sensations of hunger and of thirst. This feeling, then, having a real existence, is capable of becoming a motive, and a motive acting independently of all notions of pain or pleasure. Whoever has experienced how often it sets itself in oppo- sition to his most cherished notions of pleasure will testify to the power of its workings. It acts as the great antagonist of the inferior forces of the soul. An intense and dubious ~truggle is incessantly waged between it and the swarms of our grosser appetites. If it be allowed to be overcorne,it is turned into an avenging monitor, shooting arrows of keen remorse: but when it conquers, it is the angel of peace, shedding its soft influences over and irradiating by its genial smiles the depths of the inmost soul. There are now, and there have been in all ages of the world, men in whom the sentiments of benevolence, the love of friends, devotion to country, have been never-failing springs of action, invincible by all the motives of self-interest which could be brought to bear against them; men ~vho in the accomplishment of a lofty purpose would pass days and nights of pain and labor, who would *See Wayla~ds MQral Science, page 26. 262 Jeremy Bentham. [September, sacrifice without regret the most cherished gratifications, to bring aid to the needy, or balm to the distressed; men who would recoil from the thought of meanness or wrong with as much quickness as the in- stinct of a pure woman shrinks from the approach of contamination; men who in a contest for principles would spurn the suggestions of self-interest with an instant scorn, and who would relinquish pro- perty, comforts, rank, children, and friends, with joyful alacrity, before they would surrender one jot of their faith, or compromise in a single point the integrity of their aims. There are now, and there have been in all ages of the world, and in every nation, men who have kept loyal to duty in the midst of the frightfulest tortures which human ingenui- ty whetted by malice could inflict: men who, when nailed to the stake, while around them the faggots have crackled in the flames, when the devouring jaws of wild beasts have been opened for their destruction, when their limbs, by a cruel variety of infernal mecha- r~ism, have been torn piecemeal one from the other, have preferred the serenity of rectitude to an escape from the most terrible sufferings, crowned with the plaudits of a surrounding world. They have wil- lingly confronted death rather than lose honor, or tarnish their inno- cent consciousness by the indelible stains of injustice or untruth. Here is the leading and radical defect of Benthams moral teach- ings. He takes no account of this deep-seated sense of right, so wide and irresistible in its influences over the volitions of human will. Utility, as the mere standard and test of morality, in some de- gree serviceable in general reasonings, is confounded with the feeling of moral approbation, which should be the immediate and direct in- centive to all moral action. That all good acts have a beneficent tendency, that temperance, fortitude, generosity, justice, truth, pro- duce the happiest consequences both to the agent. and to societythat whatever we feel to be virtuous would be beneficial if performed by all men under the same conditionsthat the disposition to confer hap- piness is accompanied by a feeling of moral complacencyin short, that the production of the greatest amount of good is an inseparable quality of virtuewe might admit to be among the established facts of moral science. But that this ulterior happiness is to be the mo- tive with which virtuous acts are to be performed, and not for the sake of the virtues in themselves, we cannot admit. It strips virtue of its very character as virtue, and sinks it from an end into a means. No man who is bold because it is more dangerous to be cowardly, is a brave man. No man is benevolent who distributes pleasure, not be- cause it is virtuous, but because it is reputable. No man is just, who acts impartially, not because it is right, but because it is safe or com- manded by the laws. Virtue is an imperious goddess exacting ser- vice for her own sake, and not permitting it when performed for more remote objects. The moment the motive is divided, the worshi~p is no longer acceptable, and, innocent as it may apparently be, is in her 1840.] Jeremy Bentham. 263 sight impure. She must be loved, reverenced, and pursued with a single aim, or her advantages cannot be realized, nor her blessings merited. To substitute any other motive, that of producing happiness, for instance, is accompanied by the worst effects on the cultivation of moral character. It is to diminish that intrinsic pleasure which al- ways attends the performance of a virtuous act. It weakens the force of those habitual feelings which are the best promoters of rec- titude and probity. It supplants a strong present motive by a more distant, and consequently weaker, inducement. It renders moral judg- ments uncertain, fluctuating, and difficult. It opens the heart to the more easy approaches of seW-delusion. It shifts the attention from the interior impulse to the bare outward act. It enables the selfish and unamiable passions to mingle themselves with less probability of detection among nobler impuisestendsAto justify wrong actions under the disguise of expediencyallows too broad a discretion in the application of moral rulesand admits too readily of the passage from the consideration of general, to that of particular and specific, con- sequences. No man who makes pleasure his chief aim can give a full developement to his character, or form an adequate notion of the great purposes of human existence, or of the destinies of so~ ciety. But these ol~jections do not apply in all their force to the principle of utility as it operates in the province of the legislator. It is true, the legislator, like the moralist, must place himself under the guidance of the immutable principles of justice. lie must obey the instinctive dictates of that moral faculty in which are laid the foundations of all righteous law. Justice, eternal and unchangeable justice, is to be his supreme aim, in establishing the relations of the state. For he legis.. lates, not for himself, but for a community, and a community which presupposes, in the very meaning of the term, a collection of con- flicting interests and of equal claims. He adjudicates between a host of widely various rights; is to neglect none, infringe upon none, and favor none; yet is to distribute the advantages of law over a wide space, and among a multitude of competitors. How can he discharge his duties impartially? How is he to ascertain what is just in all circumstances? How is he to separate that which is permanently right from that which is for the time only expedient? Here is the difficulty. Here the necessity for some general rule of legislation beginsthe necessity for some external invariable standard, some test, some guide to direct him in his perplexities, and to preserve him from shifting, uncertain, and confused decision. Now we know of no better rule, than that which insists upon producing the highest good to the greatest number of people. Government is an instrument for executing the purposes of society. Society is composed of an ag.. gregate of individuals, each having his distinct objects and solicitous about his own welfare. In consenting to any government, each man 264 Jeremy Bentham. [September~ wishes it to accomplish the highest good for himself; if, therefore, it secures the greatest good of the largest number, it comes nearest to the perfection of its design. It legitimates itself when in all its ac- tion, in all its arrangements of even the minor details of law, it keeps true to the fundamental idea of its institution. By rigidly adhering to this notion, Bentham has achieved his noblest triumphs. He has carried it with him into all his inquiries, has resolved by it all his difficulties, and has made, as Macauley remarks, a science out of what was before a jargon. It were difficLilt to describe at length the extent and value of what he has done. Unless we should follow him through all his researches,. and in that way compose a volume instead of penning an article, n~ adequate notion could be given of the research, profundity, variety, and usefulness of his labors. To enumerate all the inconsistencies he has detected, all the errors he exposed, all the crudities he destroyed, all the false maxims he rectified, and all the truths he established~ would be a herculean task quite equal to his own capacity, and cer- tainly too much either for our ability or our space. We should say, however, that his services might be summed up in general terms~ under the following heads: 1. The attempt at a thorough reform of legal science was in itself no small service. He found the English law what blind usage, occa- sionally altered by hasty legislation, and from time to time corrected by fettered judicial decisions, with such improvements as professional writers added, had made it. It had come to be what it was piece- n~eal, irregularly, without order or system. Founded in the first place on the feudal relation, it retained the feudal spirit long after society had outgrown its barbarisms. One stage of civilization succeeded another, but the law had not kept pace with the change. A warlike people had become an industrious and commercial people, but there was no introduction of laws fitted to their new relations and new modes of exister1ce.~ Whatever alterations took place, were made by forced applications of old rules, or by new rules brought to square with the-old, though a process of violent adjustment. As opinion and social customs advanced, its structure became constantly more hetero- geneous and confused. Here a part would fall into disuse, and make a huge hiatus in its theory. There a portion would be knocked off, in the struggles of society to enlarge itself, and the place supplied by some strange and uncongenial substitute. The courts would strain a point one day, to adapt themselves to the growing wants of a more ac- tive and refined state of human intercourse~ and the legislature would strain another point another day, either to rebuke or justify the courts. Thus, construction was heaped upon construction, evasion followed evasion, one fantastic fiction became the excuse of a fiction still more fantastic, amendment trod upon the heels of amendment, until the whole mass seemed like a vast pile of rubbish, or rather like some 1840.] .J remy Bentham. of those ancient structures which are seen in Italy, with here a broA ken column, there a shattered portico, in the third place a crumbling roof, but the whole grotesquely stuck together with plaster and wood, to make a modern habitation. In the entire course of its existence, there had been no attempt to remodel it, or bring its parts into more perfect symmetry and shape. Of the thousands that in every age devoted their lives to the study of it, no one cared to investigate its corruptions or undertake the labor of improvement.* Those who read it, read it to learn what it was, and not to inquire what it ought to be. rrhose who wrote about it, wrote as expositors and not as critics. All the publi cations put forth concerning it aspired to no higher character than that of digests, abridgments, commentaries, synopses, or didactic es~ says. Not that its defects were unperceived, nor that its cumbrous and illogical reasonings had not forced themselves into notice, nor that its injustice had not often been felt; for there had been solitary and dis- tant complaints uttered from time to time on all these points. Some~ times a judge in the course of a decision would diffidently suggest an improvement, and sometimes a general writer would speak in harsh terms of certain of its details. But generally the system was revered in proportion as it was absurd. Elegant dissertations, like those of Blackstone, had persuaded men that it was the perfection of reason; and as few were disposed to question with any earnestness the dicta of profound and skilful lawyers, there was an unbroken acqui- escence where there should have been an uncompromising opposition~ It was in this state that Bentham found it, when he ventured upon the opinion that it was all wrong. It was in this state he found it, when he began to ridicule its pretensions, and lash its absurdities. It was in this state he found it, when he commenced an investigation, with a view to root up its very foundations, and build the entire structure anew. He was not satisfied with the examinatioft of a single title, nor an isolated branch, but he applied an unsparing analysis to each and every part, picking to pieces, demolishing, tearing down, and building up, until scarcely a particle of the original fabric was left, and a beautiful fair-proportioned edifice rose on its ruins. Even if his efforts had been less successful, the attempt would not have been without its use. It would have broken the charm which had been thrown around the subject, it would have attracted attention from think~ ing minds, and it would have prepared the way for subsequent exer- tions more pertinent and beneficial than his own. Honor, therefore, to him, who could tear himself from the fetters of a prescriptive servitude, and familiarize the public mind to the contemplation of a formidable and gigantic reform. 2. A more essential service rendered by Bentham was his mode of setting about his work. He began, not in a hap-hazard way, destroy- * The attempts of Bacon and Hale are no exceptions. Q2 266 Jeremy Bentham. [September, ing wantonly whatever seemed to him unworthy, but in obedience to a regular and consistent design. His method was not novel in itself, although it was original in its application. It was essentially the same method which for more than a century had been the glory of physical science. It was in another form the observation and induction of Ba- con, the method which rejected authority, which dismissed sophism, which labored for precision, which investigated facts, which put ques- tions, in Bacons own expressive phrase, to nature. He settled in the outset his guiding principle, and thea made use of it unflinchingly in the treatment of the minutest parts of his subject. One of his profound- est chapters is that in which he expounds the false methods of reason- ing used in legislation. He showed that there is but one right reason, and that the authorities on which jurists commonly relied were animpro- per dependence. He showed that antiquity, though it might create a prejudice in favor of a law, was not a reason for it; that the sanctions of religion, such as those cited from the Old Testament in the famous work of Algernon Sidney, were not reasons; that an arbitrary defini- tion, such, for instance, as that with which Montesquieu opened his great treatise, was not a reason; that metaphors, like that of the English ju- rists as to a mans house being his castlethat a fiction, that certain offences, for instance, work a corruption of bloodthat a fancy, such as Cocceijis as to the right of a father over his children, because they were a part of his bodythat antipathies and sympathies arising irt the breast of the legislatorand that rmaginary laws, such as the thousand-and-one laws of nature that were spoken ofwere not rea- sons, but mere pretences put forth to escape the obligation of deciding upon measures according to their good or evil tendency. In rejecting the pretexts by which the law, as well the good portions of it as the bad, were defended, and enforcing against himself with rigor the strict rules he had prescribed, it becasne necessary for him to take the whole body ofthe law in parts, to dissect its vessels, articulations, and mus- cles; to penetrate the mysticism which had all along enveloped its logic; to examine its generalities in detail; to uncover its secrets; to inspect the maxims which had grown gray in its service; to probe the fictions interwoven through its entire texture; to compare piece with piece ; and to prove the whole by reducing it without mercy to the test of impartial reason. He found it encumbered with useless forms, fettered by arbitrary precedents, abounding in flagrant absurdities, and pervaded by an unwise and pernicious spirit, lie found it a confusion of obsolete terms; of silly affectations; of intricate and conflicting provisions; of defective and artificial arrangements; of capricious rules; of quibbles, subtleties, refinements, and tyrannical technicalities. These he fearlessly exposed, and left them to the taste and judgment of his readers. 3. But not content with pulling down so conglomerous a mass, he went to work with indomitable energy to the task of putting np some- thing in its stead. In the process he taught mankind several invalu 1840.1 Jeremy Berttham. 267 able truths. He demonstrated that the framing of laws was a matter of practical business, to be conducted with the same good sense, and on the same principles, which plain men use in their most ordinary affairs. He took the law from the number of those objects of human study which have their roots and defences in authority, and gave it a place among real sciencesby the side of mathematics, chemistry, and general physics. He did more; he brought discredit upon all mere technical systems, by setting before us,in great beauty of ar~ rangement and considerable completeness of detail, a system founded upon a natural characteristic of those actions which are the subjects of law. He practically exhibited the advantages of that system, show- ing how it was equally applicable in all nations and at all times; how it detected bad laws by the mere force of its arrangement, giving them no place in its nomenclature; how it effectually excluded all barely technical offences; how it closed the door upon technical reasonings, reasonings which only the lawyer can understand; and how it sim- plified and illustrated the institutions and combinations of institutions that compose the matter of legal science. The superiority of the natural system is one which the philosophical jurist must instantly recognise. It has the same advantages over others that the botanical arrangement of Jussieu has over that of Linmeus, substituting the unity, simplicity, and beauty of nature for the inexact and often bung- ling contrivances of art. A lawyer merely, one educated to the intri- cacies of his profession, whose knowledge of law has no reference to it as a complete and harmonious code of rules for the conduct of society, will prefer the detached and scattered fragments to be found in the complicated decisions of the courts, but minds accustomed to just and philosophical modes of thinking will find their attachments fastened to more consistent and symmetrical airangements. Nor will they esteem the labors of Bentham in this department of trivial im- portance. 4. Had he done no more than demonstrate the possibility of LEGAL CODES, he would have accomplished a great good. His views in this respect are peculiarly original and just. He has shown how it was practicable to make a code which should reduce all the laws of a country into a body of written enactments, coming directly from the legislator, and adapted to the immediate guidance of the judge in the decision of all the various cases falling under his cognizance. This, of course, embraced much more than had been included in the codes suggested by the eminent jurists, of either ancient or modern times. The code of Justinian, admirable as it proved as a digest, was no- thing more than an attempt to bring into a more manageable shape the existing laws of the empire. Tribonian, and those who were engaged with him, merely undertook to make a more compendious arrangement of what was found in the Rescripta Principium, the Edicta Pra~torum, the Leges et Plebiscita, which they regarded as the established rules of the State. Nor did the code of Frederic, designed for the 268 Jeremy Bentlwm. [September, Prussian monarchy, nor even that of Napoleon, aspire to a much high- er character. The latter, which is the most perfect of all, and a vast improvement upon the old French law, fails, in leaving its meaning in many instances to be determined by the decisions of the judges, which in time accumulate precedents, and make the study of the science a matter of as immense labor as that of the common law of England. It did not contain within itself a definition of its own terms, nor an accurate and appropriate classification of its parts. ]3euthams idea went farther than this. A code in the true sense, he thought, should be one comprehending whatever was necessary to en- able the judge to put in force, without extraneous or aid, the will of the legislator; which should possess, if we may so term it, the power of self-interpretation; and which should make provision for its own improvement and correction. In his plans for the codes of Ru~sia and the United States, he endeavored to realize this gene- ral theory, by showing of what parts a code should consist, and the relation of the parts. But the nearest actual approach to his own no- tion is effected in the Penal Code, prepared by the Law Commission- ers of Great Britian for the government of India, published in 1837. Whoever will consult it, will discover, if not a thoroughly unexcep.. tionable code, one that proves the practicability of codification, and the beauty of an orderly and systematic arrangement. How it has operated practically we are not informed, but have no doubt of its success from the fact that it combines, as the framers of it state, the advantages of a statute book and of a collection of decided cases. It is at any rate, an approximation to something better than the miserable jumble of rules called law, to be found in most nations of the civilized world. 5. Be the opinion, however, what it may in respect to the practica- bility of codificationand we know that many, even among law reform- ers, are dubiousit must be conceded that Bentham,by the enthusiasm with which he prosecuted his task, if not by any actual success, kindled a spirit of active inquiry on this subject, which is working in the bosom of society with more and more power to this day. Com- mencing with the private student and the philosopher, it has gradually stolen its way into houses of legislation. At first Dumont, then Mill, then Romilly, then Brougham, and thea less conspicuous men, caught the genial fire of the great mastei, and by a series of unsurpassed exertions, in the midst of scorn and opposition, directed public attention to the mighty truths which he proclaimed. The progress of opinion, it is true, has been slow, but when we contemplate the obstacles it has met, in the general worship of authority, in the pride and indif- ference of the legal profession, and in the stubborn habits of society, we are somewhat surprised at that which has been already accom- plished. We were struck, in reading a late English work,~ at the Miller on the Unsettled Condition of the Law. 1840.1 Jeremy Bentham. 269 number of changes which had been almost imperceptibly effected. Of these may be enumerated the alterations of laws, materially improving the relation of debtor and creditor, diminishing the number of oaths, softening the penalties, and ameliorating the spirit, of crimi- nal law, simplifying the proceedings and forms of pleading at common law, defining more distinctly the rights, duties, and revenues of ecclesiastical persons, consolidating statutes, and harmonizing and modernizing the barbarous provisions of the law of real property. All these we attribute indirectly to Bentham, because his was the seminal mind from which the movement sprang. What may be the result in after ages, the progress of time will reveal. Our confidence is that his genius is destined to still nobler and vaster triumphs. 6. Nor should it be forgotten, in an enumeration of the services of the same great mind, what ought to have been insisted on before, that he has done much toward establishing the true functions of government. He has stated with more clearness than any preceding writer the real objects of civil law, and the best methods of attaining them. If he has not carried his ideas to the extent to which American states- men are disposed to push their theories of government, he has made a near approximation to it. Indeed, the most radical of American states- men can find much instruction in what he has uttered on this head. Law of any kind he regards as a retrenchment of liberty, and is con- sequently never to be imposed without a sufficient and specific reason. For there is always a reason against every coercive law in the fact that it is an attack upon the liberty of the citizen. Unless, therefore, he who proposes a law can prove that there is not only a specific reason in favor of it, but a reason stronger than the general reason against it, he transcends his province and invades the rights of the individual. Again, he says, the single aim of the legislator should be to promote the greatest possible happiness of the community. But happiness is increased as our sufferings are lighter and fewer, and our enjoyments greater and more numerous. As the care of his en- joyments ought, however, to be left entirely to the individual, it becomes the principal duty of government to guard against pains. If it protects the rights of personal security, if it defends property, if it watches over honor, if it succors the needy, it accomplishes its main purposes. Government approaches perfection in proportion as the sacrifice of liberty on the part of the subject is diminished, and his acquisition of rights is increased. Can the most rigid democrat carry his own theory much farther? Adopt these principles in legislation, and would they not lead to all those results for which he contends? Would they not simplify government until it became what it ought to be, a mere in- strument for the protection of person and property? Would they not abolish all partial legislation, root out exclusive privileges, destroy monopolies, prevent the granting of acts of special incorporation, do away with unequal laws, and leave society to its own energies and 270 Jeremy Rent/lam. [September, resources, in the conduct of its business and the prosecution of its en- terprises? And this is all for which the great democratic party, th~ party of progress, is striving. It seeks to direct government to its true ends, to restore its action from the partial direction that has been given it, and urge it on to the accomplishment of those general objects, for which alone it was instituted, and which alone are compatible with the rights, the interests, and the improvement of man. Bentham himself, it must be admitted, has sometimes departed from these ob- jects, but only when he violated unconsciously his own fundamental principles. We dave dwelt longer upon these topics than it was our intention when we begun, and longer we fear than the patience of the reader will excuse. We have done so, because we have been enamored of the theme, and have endeavored, in our own feeble way, to kindle the interest of others. If we have quickened the purposes of any to engage in the great study of law-reform, the time has not been unredeemed. It is a great subject, connected with the best interests of society and men, and worthy of the patient labor of the noblest minds. We know of no way in which the intellect could be more profitably tasked, or the purest sympathies more suitably indulged, or the firmest moral purpose more honorably tried, or greater good con- ferred on men, or a richer harvest of reputation reaped, than in prose- cuting and applying the lofty inquiries which Bentham so auspiciously commenced. The law is yet a fallow field, covered with stubble, thorns, and weeds. There are many briars to be rooted out, many ex- crescences to be pruned, many decayed branches to be lopped, and many vigorous and wholesome shoots to be ingrafted upon its more ancient and withered trunks. What obscurities perplex its theory, what incon- sistencies confuse its details, what vexations attend its practice! How numberless the absurdities which disfigure the statute-books! How aristocratic the spirit of much of its reasonings! How expen- sive, wearisome, and disastrous the greater part of its proceedings! Would any one confer a blessing on the poor, let him shorten its delays, and diminish its costs. Would any one spread peace among men, let him simplify its rules and make certain its decisions. The law is a science of mighty influence and vast extent. It is the prolific source of evil or of good. It is the instrument of the oppressor or the defender of the oppressed. It is the handmaid of virtue or the pander of vice. It mingles with all our business, with our pleasures, with our solitary studies, and with our social intercourse. When righteously administered, it is the great guardian spirit that guides the most important earthly relations of man. It watches over society when it slumbers, and protects it when it wakes. It confirms order, secures peace, encourages virtue, and assists freedom in developing and perfecting the social destinies of the human race. How impor- tant, therefore, that it should at the same time establish justice! A 1840.] ~W~ko Governs, then? 271 worthier name could not be achieved than by taking part in the effort to correct its abuses, to remedy its defects, to symmetrize and I)eautify its whole structure, to conform it to the image of immutable justice, and to enshrine it in the centre of the Temple of Truth, where it is now permitted, we fear, to occupy only the outer courts. There may be more dazzling, but there are no more honorable or useful spheres of exertion than in the department of LAW REFORM. WHO GOVERNS, TIIEN?* A TALE OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XV. (From the Germtzn of Zschokke.) 12. THE ALLIANCE WITH AUSTRIA. THE Count de Staremberg, the ambassador of the Emprese-~ueen9 Maria Theresa, had heretofore pursued the object of his mission at the court of the Tuilleries without success. That object was to en- gage the French court in an alliance with Austria against Prussia~ The Prince de Kaunitz had already paved the way as Envoy Extra- ordinary from Vienna to Paris; while the King of Prussia himself, Frederic the Great, had himself done still more to promote it, by en- tering into an alliance with the English, the natural enemies of France. The Cardinal Beruis, however, as well as the Marchioness de Pompadour, and every man of sense, still abhorred the idea of an al- liance of France with her hereditary enemy Austria, against Prussia, the natural ally of the French crown. Nicholas, his mind full of the veil, entered the cabinet of the am~ bassador, just as the latter was returning, half in despair, from a long interview with the cardinal-minister. There seemed no chance of effecting an alliance between the courts of Paris and Vienna. The ambassador, however, did not allow any trace of his mortification to appear; especially as the appearance of Monsieur de Rosier revived a faint gleam of hope, that the cardinal had sent him to reopen, per- haps, the negotiation in some other way. France means, I suppose~ to sell me her alliance dear, thought the count, and received Monsieur de Rosier with the most polite welcome. The conversation soon turned on the last ball, the loveliness of the young countess, the splendor of her veil, and the envy of all the beau- ties of the court. The count was listening, Nicholas was on the watch. They drew closer together. The count related, with much * Concluded from page l~7.

Who Governs, Then? A Tale of the Court of Louis XV. From the German of Zschokke 271-288

1840.] ~W~ko Governs, then? 271 worthier name could not be achieved than by taking part in the effort to correct its abuses, to remedy its defects, to symmetrize and I)eautify its whole structure, to conform it to the image of immutable justice, and to enshrine it in the centre of the Temple of Truth, where it is now permitted, we fear, to occupy only the outer courts. There may be more dazzling, but there are no more honorable or useful spheres of exertion than in the department of LAW REFORM. WHO GOVERNS, TIIEN?* A TALE OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XV. (From the Germtzn of Zschokke.) 12. THE ALLIANCE WITH AUSTRIA. THE Count de Staremberg, the ambassador of the Emprese-~ueen9 Maria Theresa, had heretofore pursued the object of his mission at the court of the Tuilleries without success. That object was to en- gage the French court in an alliance with Austria against Prussia~ The Prince de Kaunitz had already paved the way as Envoy Extra- ordinary from Vienna to Paris; while the King of Prussia himself, Frederic the Great, had himself done still more to promote it, by en- tering into an alliance with the English, the natural enemies of France. The Cardinal Beruis, however, as well as the Marchioness de Pompadour, and every man of sense, still abhorred the idea of an al- liance of France with her hereditary enemy Austria, against Prussia, the natural ally of the French crown. Nicholas, his mind full of the veil, entered the cabinet of the am~ bassador, just as the latter was returning, half in despair, from a long interview with the cardinal-minister. There seemed no chance of effecting an alliance between the courts of Paris and Vienna. The ambassador, however, did not allow any trace of his mortification to appear; especially as the appearance of Monsieur de Rosier revived a faint gleam of hope, that the cardinal had sent him to reopen, per- haps, the negotiation in some other way. France means, I suppose~ to sell me her alliance dear, thought the count, and received Monsieur de Rosier with the most polite welcome. The conversation soon turned on the last ball, the loveliness of the young countess, the splendor of her veil, and the envy of all the beau- ties of the court. The count was listening, Nicholas was on the watch. They drew closer together. The count related, with much * Concluded from page l~7. 272 Who Governs, then? [September, complacency, that the veil was of immense value, and that it had been procured from the Netherlands. What the young countess had said was the truth; there were only two similar veils in existence, both in the hands of the Empress. Nicholas did not then conceal that a person dear to him had fallen in love with that veil, and that all that was wanting to secure his highest happiness was to present her with such a veil. My dear friend, cried the count, thus are we both in the same plight. For it is as impossible for you to obtain such a veil, as it is for me to engage your king in an alliance with our court. Never despair, my lord count ! said Nicholas, and immediately understood the price at which the Brabant lace was to be bought. How many things in this world become possible, the moment we but cease to consider them impossible. The ambassador started at these words. My friend, cried he, do you consider the alliance possible, after the whole court has unani- mously pronounced against itafter the cardinal and the Marchioness de Pompadour have resolutely declared to me the ~ontrary ? Nicholas paused a moment, and revolved in his mind all that had already become possible to him. This gave him courage. Do not despair, said he to the ambassador, however difficult it may be. My friend, cried the latter, delighted, as he sprang to his feet, cost what it may, if I succeed in the alliance, I will succeed also in rewarding you with the veil. If I fulfil the most ardent of the wishes of the Empress, she will not disregard my request for a veil. The two diplomatists now perfectly understood each other. They entered deeper into the business. Nicholas was provided with every requisite information. He promised his influence with the cardinal. The count pledged his with the Empress. Nicholas was not successful with the Cardinal Bernis, but was abruptly repulsed, and reminded not to allow himself, as a French diplomatist, to be governed by the interests of foreigners. He was more successful in the private cabinet of his Pauline. As soon as she learned the price at which she could possess the imperial veil, she said, Leave me to attend to that ! And she did attend to it with effect, as soon as she had an oppor- tunity of speaking unobserved to the Prince de Soubise. The latter, who, after his habitual fashion, was melting in tenderness, had nothing more important to tell her than that he had been dreaming of her that in his dream she had made him a godthat she had been a thou- sandfold more lovely, while she had been less cruel, than in the waking reality. Ah, Prince, cried Pauline, with a smile and blush, I must al- most fear that some envious fairy is sporting with us. Well, then, what do you think of my having also seen you in a dream? Yes, I myself saw you in the splendor of a nobler glory. I saw you at the head of 1840.J Who Governs, then? 273 an army, in a magnificent uniform, surrounded by trophies. You were returning a conqueror, a hero. I stood among the millions of specta- tors whose acciamations greeted you. I stood there trembling, and fearing that I should be forgotten by the deified hero. But he took a gracious notice of me. He approached me. I was no longer mis- tress of myself, and The prince drew the beautiful relator to his breast, with all the ardor of his glowing passion. But she seriously repulsed him. Not thus, Prince ! said she, in a tone that commanded respect. Do not forget that we are no longer in the world of dreamsthat you are without your army, your trophies, your conquests. If ever I t~ould be weak, Prince, it could only be for the hero who should have cast a glory upon France. Yes, and if you were personally less an object of regard than you are, I should consider it my dutyso good a FreuchwQman am Ito crown the hero of France with my unre- served love, if he then, in the brightness of his glory, should deign to accept it. Oh, you are a mischievous, cruel girl ! cried Soubise. You are either an arch-enthusiast, or the cunningest Penelope. You show me my happiness only behind impossibilities.~, Impossibilities ? asked Pauline, with an air of surprise. Have we not the war with England ? What then ? answered the prince; but you know well that I am no seaman, and that the English are not to be attacked on land. Yes, if I could throw a bridge across the Channel at Calais, I should not myself ask for the reward of love till I should have planted my banner upon the Tower of London. But, lady fair, build the bridge for me Why not, my gracious lord, if you command ? replied Pauline Attack the English in Germany. Does not Hanover belong to the King of England? Why spare that ? Lady, replied Soubise, smiling, you are much better versed in the politics of the heart than in the politics of courts. You probably are not aware that the King of Prussia has formed an alliance with England, by which Hanover is covered. Covered! By whom ? asked Pauline. By the insignificant King of Prussia? Why does not our court embrace the proffered alliance with Austria? Keep the kings hands full with Austria, and he will care very little about Hanover. Why are you yourself, Prince, opposed to the will of all France, nay, to the call of your own glory? Why are you against the alliance with Austria, and an attack upon Hanover? Ah, if you knew what Paris thinks of you ! The prince held up his finger threateningly with an arch smile. Maiden, maiden, I am listening to the Count Staremberg from your sweet lips ! In this strain the conversation continued for some time. The prince, in spite of himself, became intoxicated by the flatteries of VOL. viii. NO. XXXIII.SBPTEMDER, 1840. R 274 Who Governs then,? [September, Pauline upon his future martial glories, and he saw the realization of these bright visions, which Pauline so artfully held out to him, only possible if the court should accede to the wishes of Austria for a con- tinental war. For several days he struggled with himself. That the command-in- chief could not escape him, he felt assured, through the influence of Madame de Pompadour. Pauline had kindled his ambition. To make him jealous of the laurels of the Duke de Richelien and the Marechal dEtr6es, was not a very difficult task to her skilful hand. He had already half made up his mind for the alliance with Austria, when Mademoiselle de Pons in a later conversation determined him. He now with all his art addressed himself to Madame de Pompa- dour. But all his skill was ineffectual to win over the mistress to the Austrian interest. In vain he essayed all the springs of female vanity, to embitter her against the King of Prussia. I have no great liking for that royal poet, said she, and I know very well that I am of very little consideration in his eyes. But I am no more favored by fortune with the regards of the Queen of Hungary. The one, there- fore, balances the other, and the glory of our own king outweighs them both. The prince tried in vain to imbue her with more agreeable impres- sions of the Empress Maria Theresa, and in vain assured her that the latter was in the habit, in her more intimate circles, of speaking of her with the most lively admiration and regard. No, said the marchioness, laughing, you are too easy, dear Prince, and allow Starembergs flatteries to pass current with you. Do not trust him. I myself will never believe that till the Empress writes it to me with her own hand. The Prince de Soubise concealed his mortification. He felt that with the marchioness he was very far from being omnipotent. All hope would have vanished, had not the last expression of Madame de Pom- padour suggested a new plan to him. All depends on bringing into play the pride of the marchioness, said he to Pauline. The Em- press must be induced to write a friendly letter to the marchioness. That will cost her nothing. The day that Staremberg shall deliver that letter, the alliance is as good as concluded. But how to suggest that to the Austrian ambassador? No one must intimate that the sug- gestion comes from me. Leave that to me ! said Pauline. To a girl such a whim is much more readily pardoned than to a prince. And what would I not dare for a prince like you! What not, for the thought of seeing you at the head of an army, in the midst of the first commanders of Europe! Oh, my Prince, the day that you receive the command-in-chief.... ah, you will not then cast a glance upon me ! Soubise cast himself at the feet of the artful Pauline, with protes- tations of eternal faithfulness, while the latter was inexhaustible 1840.] Who Governs, then? 275 devices to inflame the imagination of the prince with the prospect of his future triumphs. The thought of the veil quickened all the powers of her wit. Nicholas was immediately initiated by her into the secret. He in turn spoke to the Count Staremberg. Staremberg despatched an express to Vienna. Paulines impatience for the veil was equalled only by that of the prince for the letter from the Empress Maria Theresa to the marchioness. One evening, when the marchioness was entertaining c~mpany, the prince made his appearance. Madame de Pompadour was in unusual spirits. She took the prince aside, and said to him, with an engaging smile: I fear, my Prince, we shall have to part. And you can tell me so with a smile of pleasure ? he replied, with surprise. Though I n-lay lose the pleasure of your presence, she answered, yet the joy will console me of seeing you in the fulfilment of your noblest aspirations. The king will doubtless shortly confer on~ you a marechals baton, and the command-in-chief of one of his armies. Soubises face beamed with speechless joy. But how is that possible ? he replied. The king is disposed to accept the alliance with Austria. But ~he Empress has done even the impossible; I confess she is by far the noblest-minded princess of the age. You ought only to read the charming lines with which she has honored me. Phe Empress has written you ? Hush, Prince. To-morrow you will learn more. About midnight the same evening, a cautious tap was heard at the door of Pauline, as she had just left the company of the Oron family. It was Nicholas. He entered, beaming with delight. He thew over her the most splendid of veils. She stood before him, in the trans- port of the gratification of her dearest wish, like an angel in a cloud of light. She threw back the veil, and sank into the arms of her enraptured lover. After a few days the treaty of alliance of the French court with Austria was signed. The Cardina Bernis had in vain struggled with all his eloquence against it. He could not conceive how the king, how the Marchioness de Pompadour, how the whole court, ht~d bean so suddenly converted. But he was forced to sign the treaty, unless at the sacrifice of all his influence, and perhaps even hi~ post. He cursed with all his heart the Duke de Choiseul, whom he regarded as the author of this unfortunate and unnatural allk~nee. He never dreamed that the longing of a beautiful girl for a splendid veil had set at nought all the arts of diplomacy, and that one of the subordinate emp1oy~s of his own office had decided the affairs of great powers~ Who Governs, then? [September, 13. DESIRE FOR RETIREMENT. THIs cursed alliance makes me sick ! said the cardinal, as Rosier entered the cabinet of the minister with a memorial that he had prepared. Throw down those papers. I am in no mood to hbar them read, still less to read them myselfneither to hear nor to see. It is all a vexatious, idle struggle in this world. I would fain at last turn philosopher from very despair ! I should indeed like, for your Eminences health, from the phar~ macopo~ia of philosophy, a dose of laughing indifference at the follies of this life, said the Councillor of State. I could laugh well enough, answered the cardinal, if I did not foresee so much disgrace and disaster for France. And after all, the world will lay the whole mischief to my charge, because this political abortion appeared under my name, and was christened after me. Ah, most gracious sir, with how many a father ia this world do you share this common misfortune ! said Nicholas, in a tone of comic commiseration. If I had at least the honor of knowing the true father of this diplomatic changeling! Do help me upon his track, Rosier. Most gracious sir, if contrary to your expectation the changeling turns out well, and brings glory and fortune, I bet that more than one father will be found for it. You certainly know that many a city, that has first expelled a son of whom she has been ashamed, has~ after- wards erected statues to his greatness. And, most gracious sir, who is then the fortunate seer who in our day could cast the nativity of a child in its cradle? Let us quietly await the issue of eveIlts. The cardinal smiled and said: You are indeed still a youth. I should scarcely have expected so premature a comforter. You are right. We must assume an air of victory for the desperate game. But do you then believe in full earnest, Monsieur de Rosier, that this connexion with an hereditary enemy and rival, against the alliance dictated to us by nature, will ever be called a prudent plan, even though it should eventually prove a fortunate one Most gracious sir, nothing under the sun is wrong but misfortune. Success is always called prudent. My dear friend, cried the cardinal, so says the blind multitude. But he who does not belong to it, heeds not the opinion of the blind. Men of sense will always say, it was a foolish plan, and if successful its merit will not be that of the author. Thus will history some time or other pronounce on me and this alliance. Oh! most gracious sir, you must not trouble yourself about the judgment of historians. These gentry measure everything by the standard of success. They therefore extol Brutus, Casar, and Alex- ~nder, and execrate Spartacus, Cromwell, Attila, and Cartouche, 1840.] Who Governs, then? 277 Men of sense will at the farthest say, the cardinal played a bold game, but he was successful. The more refined willsay, you judge like fools. The cardinal was one of the great spirits who see the events of this world in quite different connexions, than you in your closets. What seems to you a hazardous game, was simple calcula- tion that could not fail. What you regard as fortune and chance, was but the result of his energy and skill. I will be satisfied if fortune only this once favors folly. But, my dear Rosier, I fear thistles do not bear grapes. Since I have had the honor to occupy a position under your Ex- cellency on diplomatic ground, I have made two great observations that will console me under whatever can happen. You ought not to withhold them from me, for greatly indeed should I like to find such consolation. The one is, that we must not at all imagine that we are governing the world from our cabinets, but the world is governing the cabinets. From the throne to the Savoyard who scrapes the mud from our shoes, there exists an invisible chain by which all things are inter- linked together without either our knowledge or will. Political events are only the fruits of unseen actions and reactions in the con- catenation of society, which baffle all our own prudence. The other is, that heaven is, in politics also, the idiots best protector. For I have seen that the most ingenious minds have made miscalculations~ that the activity of the most energetic men has not eventually accom- plished more than the labor of the squirrel that turns the wheel in a school-boys cage. On the other hand, I have seen already the most absurd measures of blockheads attended with the most astonishing consequences of good fortune, and the stupidity of simpletons pro- duce the most admirable results. You are right, Rosier, said the cardinal; you make me your disciple. Fatalism is the philosophy of despair, and I am quite in the mood to turn philosopher of your school. Nevertheless, I can- didly confess to you I find it very hard to digest this miserable business. I long for solitude and retirement. I want to go to the coun- try for a few weeks, for some relaxation to my mind. The king has given me permission to go to Fontainebleau. I beg you to accompany me, Monsieur de Rosier. You will be able to philosophize undisturb- ed in the beautiful solitudes of the wilderness of forest and rock. I shall be glad to escape for once from this storm and struggle of court life, and to inhale the fresh and free air of the spring of nature. You will, therefore, accompany me. At the end of this week you will start with me for Fontaiuebleau. Nicholas bowed and felt too highly flattered by the kindness and favor of the cardinal, to be able to conceal his gratification at this dis- tinction. But Pauline did not experience the same pleasure at this announce- 278 Who Governs, then? [September, ment. Shall we have to part for perhaps six weeks or two months ? she exclaimed. Why, that is an eternity. Ah, Colas, what would I not give if I could accompany you, and roam with you arm in arm through the peaceful gardens of Fontaineblean. How happy should we not both be there, where we could live for each other alone ! Yes, said Nicholas, we would create an Arcadia there. But does not Count dOron possess an estate and beautiful mansion in the neighborhood of Fontainebleaul Do persuade the young countess to enjoy her May there. A golden idea ! cried Pauline, exultingly; and immediately set to work upon the young countess, painting to her the charms of rural life in the most glowing colors. The two young ladies were soon of one mind. Ah, said the young countess to her father, I long for retire- ment. The winter has not benefited me. I must inhale the country air. I have never been at our estate at Fontaineblean. Permit me to spend there only a month. The court is in Paris. We could now enjoy quite alone and undisturbed the delights of Fontainebleau. The old count, who always indulged the wishes of his daughter, had nothing to oppose to this request. The prince, as a friend of the family, became of course informed of it. He immediately calcu- lated that Pauline would have a tedious time there, and that he would be able to enjoy there her society with more freedom from conven- tional restraint. He immediately resolved, without betraying his in- tention, to surprise them with his presence. I have an irresistible desire for retirement, said he to Madame de Pompadour, before setting put for the army, and plunging into the midst of the crowds of the camp and the field. I should like once more to enjoy the beauties of nature, and there in tranquillity to pre- pare myself among my maps and books for the campaign. Would the king permit a residence of a few weeks at Fontainebleau? One word from you, Madame de Pompadour, and your kindness makes me happy. 7f he marchioness promised him the gratification of his wish from the king, and lie in fact soon received it. But when Madame de Pompa- dour reflected upon this fancy of the prince, and thought how soon her favorite would be compelled to leave France, she felt reluctant to lose his presence earlier than was absolutely necessary. Sire, she said to the king, I feel an irresistible desire for re- tirement. The splendid monotony of the court wearies me. Your majesty needs relaxation. We had already fixed upon Marly to spend the summer. But spring invites us to the open air. How would it do to idle away a few weeks of May at Fontainebleau ? The king felt ennuy~. I feel as you do ! he said. Let us make the arrangements. Marly will not run away. Let us go to Fontaine- bleanthe sooner the better ! 1840.] Who Governs, then? 279 14. ALL FOLLOW. THE cardinal had hardly spent three days with Nicholas in philoso- phizing at Fontainebleau, and was congratulating his good fortune, and had celebrated it in some quaint verses which we may still read in his workswhen, behold, all at once the neighboring estate of the Count dOron was enlivened with the presence of its occupants. 1 am glad of that agreeable neighborhood, said the cardinal to Nicholas; the young ladies are amiable. Let us make them rural visits. We shall thus have some variety in our cloistered solitude. One day later the Prince de Soubise made his appearance, and took possession of one wing of the palace, with a numerous retinue. We shall not remain, it seems, entirely to ourselves, said Nicho- las to the cardinal. Indeed, replied the latter; yet I scarcely feel displeased to see a little more motion in this lifeless world. I confess I feel a little gloomy in this wilderness of silent palace halls. Every step sounds through hundreds of saloons and corridors, as if all the hundreds called upon us to inhabit them. He who wants to live in the country must seek for his gratification in a humbler abode. Two days afterwards arrived twenty wagons with the royal ward- robe and kitchen. In carriages and on horseback, poured into the halls of the spacious palaces a hbst of valets, chambermaids, cooks, grooms, lackeys, maitres-de-ceremonie, secretaries, butlers, chamberlains, cler- gy, actors, huntsmen, court tailors, dancers, male and female, washer- women, pyrotechnists, perruquiers, pastry-cooks, & c., & c. Gardens and courts, apartments and saloons, were crowded with motley groups of every sort. There was a calling and a crying, a hammering and a knocking, enough to throw a nervous man into fits. With fluttering ensigns and sounding music, several batalions of the Royal Guards, foot and horse, arrived and took possession of the barracks and sentry- boxes. For the court as well as for the troops, bakeries and slaugh- ter-houses were immediately established and put in operation. Holy Heavens ! cried the cardinal, when Nicholas came to him. Look at this spectacle! Unfortunate that I am, what malign spirits could have prompted me to choose Fontaineblean for my relaxation ! The next day was heard the roar of cannon. All the bells of the town were rung. The drums rolled. The king arrived amid the shouts of the people Vive le Roi! the TVell-Beloved ! Some hours after arrived the Marchioness de Pompadour, followed by seventeen coaches. This rural retirement is the place to run mad in ! exclaimed the cardinal in despair, some days later, perfectly exhausted with visits and audiences given and received. Paris has at least the advantage of being a large city, so that if you choose you can keep out of the way, that you can be solitary in the midst of the universal tumult, and 280 Who Governs, then? [September, can deny yourself to disagreeable visiters. But here in this confined nest, patched together out of four castles and five palaces, you are crowded together to suffocation. At every turn one runs against ano- ther, or steps into ones neighbors shoes. The excuse is here of no avail, of not being at home. All the world knows where you are. If I could, I would post back to Paris this very day. But to my inexpres- sible vexation I must affect an air of delight, in the presence of the king, the marchioness, and the whole train of courtiers, at being per- mitted to breathe in the neighborhood of his Majesty. I pity your eminence and myself, replied Nicholas; however, we may perhaps soon be in solitude again. By no means, Monsieur de Rosier. On the contrary, the king finds it delightful here, the marchioness charming, and the court divine. However,I am glad at least to be able to give your Eminence some comfort, as it is all the talk that the court is to remove hence to Marly. Heavens, my dear Rosier, think no more of that. The king said last night at the fire-works, that he had never for a long time enjoyed himself so much in the countrythat he was almost determined to spend the whole summer at Fontainebleau. Nicholas tried in vain to comfort him. When in the darkness of the evening he stole off to the abode of Pauline, he learned from her how the Prince de Soubise had formed the fancy of coming to Eon- taineblean. Hm ! thought Nicholas, its clear enough. I attracted Pauline Pauline the Countess dOronthe countess the princethe prince the marchionessthe marchioness the kingand the king the whole court. A most magnificent train of attendants I draw after me. The idea made him laugh aloud, though yet, in his modesty, he himself entertained a little doubt of its accuracy. But all depends, thought he, on the counter-experiment. Lets see if the train will follow me back to Paris. That would also benefit my poor friend the car- dinal. And why so thoughtful and monosyllabic ? asked Pauline of her lover, as they wandered through the high beech alleys of the royal gardens. Has any of the brilliant beauties of the court made a conquest of Monsieur de Rosier? It is dangerous to live under the same roof with so many charms. Nothing can be farther from the truth, mischievous Pauline. Since I have lived under the same roof with the charming Mademoi- selle de Pons, I have perished so entirely under that peril, that I have no other danger to fear. Then confess candidly, Colas, why do I see so much less of you here at Fontaineblean than in Paris ? Because I am here less my own master. We expected to be able here to live for each other from morning to night. But here we 1840.] Who Governs, tken 9 ~81 have less time to ourselves, than in the Oron hotel. And if we are to live four weeks longer in the midst of this bustle, I shall die of ennui, and impatience for you. I long to be back in Paris. You speak my own very thoughts, Colas. I came here for the sake of us both, not for the sake of these gardens and these court displays. If you can detach yourself from the cardinal! and retura to Paris, I will follow you. I will take a cold to-dayhave a violent head-ache to-morrowand set out for Paris the next day, andthere I will get well again~ The affair was settled. Nicholas called on the cardinal, who was still in the midst of his ill-humor, and was cursing the whole court. Nicholas without difficulty gave the whole affair a ludicrous turn. If your Eminence will so far trust me, I will try my witch- craft, and puff away the whole court from Fontainebleau. Puff away, puff away, that the whole courts with all its train, may be blown off to the moon ! Will you permit me to go to Paris, most gracious sir? In a week you shall be as solitary here in Fontaineblean as a hermit. For it is in Paris that I must obtain my witch-wind. The cardinal laughed. I understand you, my friend. You wish to get out of this mad bustle. Gofor the retirement I promised you I cannot give you here. You cannot keep me company here, for I have too much company already. FarewellI envy youI should like to follow you. But etiquette forbids it. Go. I must remain here. But do not forget, the moment you get to Paris, to mount the tower of Notre-Dame, and to blow with all the strength of your lungs, till the last kitchen scullion shall be blown away.~~ Nicholas sent a billet to Pauline, and departed. Pauline caught a head-ache and fell sick. She asked the young countess to permit her to return to Paris. She was afraid that a serious illness was ap- proaching, for she felt suffering in every part of her body. The next day Pauline grew worse. With tears in her eyes she begged for Paris. rJhe young countess was unwilling to part from her. The count sent the two young ladies back to Paris, especially as a physi- cian who had been called in, had assumed a grave air at the bed of Pauline, because he could not unriddle the nature of the attack that was coming on. But at all events he thought that he could not go wrong, and would least endanger the honor of science, if he suggest- ed that Mademoiselle do Pons might by a cold have brought on an illness that might be attended with unfortunate consequences.~ The Prince de Soubise had scarcelylearned the departure of Pauline, when there was no longer remaining for him at Fontainebleau. With an air of great dejection he called on Madame de Pompadour~ Once more I had hoped at Fontainebleau in your vicinity to embrace a whole heaven of joysbut I must go. I have despatches from the Marechal dEtr~es. MIy presence is urgently tequired in Paris~ RZ 282 Who Gaverns, then? [September, My preRarations for the campaign must be expedited. In my absence everything is suspended. Permit me, my most gracious lady, to pre- fer my duty for the honor of the king to my own highest happiness. Madame de Pompadour was taken by surprise. She attempted cautiously to change the mind of the prince. But he knew how so well and forcibly to urge the necessity of his presence in Paris, his superintendence of the troops as they set out, and the importance of his personal attention at the war department, and at the same time his grief at his separation from Madame de Pompadour was so touch- ingnay, even attested by warm tears, which he strove in vain to concealthat the marchioness at last, deeply moved, replied: Go, dear Prince, where duty and honor summon you. I myself lose the most in your leaving Fontainebleau. Be comforted. I shall husband the few moments that I shall have the pleasure of seeing you in Pa- ris. The air of Fontainebleau does not seem to benefit the king. The weather is still a little too raw. The court will perhaps return to the Tuilleries sooner than you suppose, and take up its summer resi- dence at Marly. The prince took his leave. He had no audience of the king be- cause his majesty felt in fact a little unwell. The marchioness had only been mistaken in the cause of his indisposition. It was not the air of Fontaineb]eau, but an oyster-pie, that had disagreed with the king. When the Cardinal Bernis beheld the departure of the prince with all his suite, he could scarcely refrain from laughing. This begins well, he said to himself. I believe my wind-maker, Rosier, is ac- tually standing on the tower of Notre-Dame, and puffing away. But when the rumor spread that the king could not bear the air of Fontainebleau, and that the court was to return to Pariswhen the wagons were actually packedwhen the chamberlains, the grooms, the court tailors, the dancers, the musicians, the pyrotechnists, the butlers, and so forth, were making preparations for departurewhen the king set out for Paris, and the marchioness followed, and the whole court disappeared, and vanished away to the last kitchen scullion when the body-guard, foot and horse, marched off again with flying ensigns and sounding music, so that Fontaineblean lay there like a lifeless corpse in the stillness of deaththe cardinal, beside himself with astonishment, exclaimed: What is the meaning of this! Is it chance !or has the wind-maker, Rosier, really entered into art alliance with evil spirits ! 15. THE BATTLE OF ROsBAcH. By the departure of the Prince de Soubise to the army on the Rhin a link was lost in the magic chain by which Nicholas had heretofor 1840.1 Who Governs, then? 283 been much more powerful than lie had imagined himself. It was only the events at Fontainebleau that had made him aware of it, when it was too late. But he did not complain of having learned it only when no farther advantage was to be derived from the discovery. By nature of easy temper, and early accusiomed to content himself with little, he saw himself in the possession of such a rank and affluence as he had never dreamed of attaining. His diplomatic post, his influence with Cardinal Bernis, the importance which he had obtained, he knew not how, with the ambassadors of foreign powers, brought him rich presents in addition to his liberal salary. From the simplicity of his mode of life, as he contented himself without display with the sole attendance of his old and trusty Marcus, savings were heaped upon savings in his coffers. He availed himself of these, and of some for- tunate opportunity, to purchase a considerable provincial estate, the income of which was sufficient to secure him an easy life. More he did not desire. He would already have willingly ex- changed his political career for the life of a country gentleman, if Pauline had not been a little obstinate against the proposal. She loved him, she gratified his every wish, except the single one of mar- rying him You must still wait a little, Colas, said she, and I hope you can resign yourself to it. For a girl there is a peculiar charm in being a free maiden and unmarried. There is a flattering delight in the con- sciousness of being surrounded, admired, and adored by worshippers. Grant a little longer holiday to my glirish vanity. As a married wo- man I should lose most of it. Ah, the full summer of life comes only too soon to us poor children. rihen farewell, all the bloom of its spring! I should rather die than be an old maid of twenty-five ! Nicholas consented. But nothing speeds faster than a maidens year of bloom. The diplomatic bridal veil was then brought forth, and Pauline de Poums was metamorphosed inio Madame de Rosier. Her bridal happened to take place on the same day that the French lost the battle of Rosbach. The same post that brought that disas- trous tidings to the court brought also to the young bride the following billet from the Prince de Soubise: Pity me, pity me, most lovely Pauline. I have suffered myself to be entrap- ped by the insignificant King of Prussia, overreached and beaten. Yes, you have good reason to pity me, since without fault of my own I was forced to accept the engagement. From all sides I was urged into it. And in the very midst of the contest, the cursed rabble troops of the empire deserted me. Thus it is the King of Prussia aud you alone that have conquered me in spite of myself. I curse the Pros- sians, but I love Pauline. You wish to see me as a hero at your feetbut if I can- not b.e the hero, 1 still remain your captive. Pauline wrote immediately back: Pity me, pity me, most amiable prince. I have suffered myself to be entrapped by the insignificant Nicholas de Rosier, overreached and taken prisoner. Yes, you have good reason to pity me, since without fault of my own I was forced to accept the 284 Who Governs, then? [September, engagement. My heart impelled me against my will. Perhaps I might have been victorious, but in the very midst of the contest my youth deserted me. Consider, I have already numbered twenty-five years, and they are worse than the rabble troops of the empire. Thus it is Rosier and my years alone that have conquered me in spite of myself. With all my heart I curse my years, but I love my gallant husband. To be serious, Prince, we must neither of us pine away with grief. After all, the world soon ceases to care whether a field-marshal or a girl was conquered. How many battles, how many bridals, have already taken place and been forgotten, and yet the world rolls on quietly in its old course. You will live none the less esteemed in history, than I some day in my children. The Cardinal Bernis became deeply disheartened at the battle of Rosbach, which was soon forgotten at the court. I foresaw the disaster ! he said to Nicholas, when the misfor- tunes of the French arms continued through the succeeding year. They may make a jest of it at the court, but my honor is ruined. For France and the whole of Europe will look upon me as the author of this calamitous alliance with Austria. Most gracious sir, replied Nicholas, to an experienced and wise man like you, the opinions of France and Europe ought to be perfectly indifferent, since you know yourself how erroneous the judgments of men generally are of events and their causes.~~ But I am minister, and I have been compelled to negotiate and sign that fatal treaty. It is my name that is the victim. The world and posterity will say with reason, who then has done this in France who governs, then ?if the Minister, Cardinal Bernis, does not. No, most gracious sir, the world and posterity will have too much sense to talk thus. Yes, you are indeed minister, as his Most Chris- tian Majesty is actually king. But you know my views. Every man of sense knows that neither the king rules nor you govern. What do you mean? Who rules, who governs, then? Do you mean Madame de Pompadour ? Pardon me. The marchioness is as innocent as you and the king. Do you think so? Well, who does govern, then? You excite my curiosity. Speak ! I do not know who. Perhaps chambermaids, tinkers, scriveners, mistresses of Councillors of State, perhaps their daughters, or sons, or cooks, or lackeys, or coachmen, and such other trash. To-day this one, and to-morrow that. Where a firm iron law does not rule, there rules chance. Between the controlling omnipotence of law and the sport of chance, no medium exists. Ministers and kings them- selves are after all only the instruments and agents of the whims of others. You would make me disgusted with my own post. You regard France, I suppose, not as a monarchy, but as a royal anarchy. Speak out more clearly. I cannot. Your Eminence has expressed my idea exactly in two wordsa royal anarchy. That is to be founded everywhere where 1840.] Who Governs, then? 285 the king is the state, and where the people exists only for the sake of that state. It is everywhere where the will of a single man is the law of the land, and where the fickle caprice of a prince makes the constitution of the realm. In fact, the will and caprice of a single man, an omnipotent arbiter, change from morning to night. Where the law, on the other hand, stands detached from royal authority, and elevated above it, there is a steady, firm government and oraerno- where else. It is as steady and firm as the interests of millions of subjects from which it takes its rise, and as difficult to change as it is difficult to unite the will and the views of legislators that proceed from the people. Hm! I perceive you have read the Abbi Mably, and you are with Montesquieu a worshipper of the English constitution, and per- haps one of our philosophizing malcontents. By no means. I find myself very well off in this royal anarchy, and am modest enough to believe that in a constitutional monarchy I should scarcely have had the honor of serving your Excellency with my humble talents. You will, however, acknowledge that there is nothing more possible than that the monarch, in his decisions on the most weighty affairs, may be influenced by a mistress or a favorite these by their favoritesthese by their friendsand so downward to the boot-black. The monarch as little as the boot-black dreams that the one has so great an influence over the other. Trifiinr causes for great effects ! replied the cardinal. I ac- knowledge it. But British parliaments and legislative senates do not appear always necessary to avoid that which you style a royal anar- chy. A prince with a firm will for the right, surrounded by able counsellors, is better calculated to give wise Jaws to a nation, and to regulate the course of affairs, than an assembly of legislators from all the different ranks of the people; for the king and his ministers, in overseeing the whole, clearly perceive what is required, more accu- ~ately than the best individual talents among the people. Permit me, your Excellency, to doubt. And if there was a new Henri IV. upon the throne, not he alone, but every miserable tailor, every one of the humblest subordinates in the country, would have an influence on the government, and would assist in deciding the af- fairs of state. The cardinal and Nicholas continued some time longer their con- versation on this topic; but our readers would thank us but little if we were to trouble them ~vith a farther relation of it. 16. THE ExiLE. VrHE result of this conversation, contrary to the expectation of Nicholas, was, that he from that time rose rapidly in the regard of the minister, obtained more his confidence, became his habitual companion, 286 Who Governs, then? [September, and was employed in every business that was honorable and profita- ble without calling for extraordinary abilities of mind. A real shower of gold poured over Monsieur de Rosiers table and Paulines toilette, diamond rings, watches, snuff-boxes, orders, jewels, chains, and other diplomatic gew-gaws. Nicholas felt very grateful to the cardinal. I have my good rea- sons, my dear Colas, said the minister, smiling, for making use of you for matters that cost little trouble, involve no danger, and are best rewardedthat afford a harvest without the trouble of sowing the proper employments of nobility. I wish to indemnify you in advance, if at some time or other I should bring ruin upon you. How bring ruin upon me, most gracious sir ? asked Nicholas with surprise. And you, with your simple, unsophisticated mind, are surprised? Do you not know, then, that you yourself have reminded me on what insecure ground we stand in our royal anarchy? To-day I am mnis- terdo you know what I may be to-morrow? In truth, my friend, I myself know it no more than at the Turkish court the Grand Vizier or the Kaimakan can say whether the caprice of the Grand Sultan will permit him twenty-four hours longer in his post, or even in this world. You have the misfortune to be liked by me, because you are an honest man. It is my duty, as a friend, to provide for you. If I fall, you will fall with me; and the new favorite will fill the different posts with his own creatures.~~ Nicholas was moved, lie attempted to cheer the cardinal with respect to the future, but he understood too well the atmosphere of courts to rely himself on his own consolations. Pauline went yet farther than himself, and said: Colas, to-day they bow to youthat is of no consequence. If some day you fall, because the cardinal falls too, the rabble of courtiers and place-men will spurn youthis is of more consequence. Choose the more prudent part. Retire voluntarily, and take your honorable dismissal. The cardinal has intimations that have reference to more than bare possibilities. He seems to mean to give you a hint. Avail yourself of it. You will preserve for yourself the general regard. We will live independently on our estate, or enjoy the winter in Paris when we are tired of the quiet life of the country. What can we desire more She knew how to picture so charmingly the happiness of independ- ence and retirement, and talked so attractively of the pleasures of rural life, that Nicholas did not resist a moment. The cardinal regretted it, that after a few months Monsieur de Ro- sier tendered his resignation; but did not oppose it. Wbere nothing depends on the law, and everything on the gratification of the luxuries of the ruler and his favorites, selfishness becomes natural to all; and where no man has a country, he must build one up for himself be- tween four walls, said the minister. Go, my dear friend, I do not blame you for this step. You have there a fine estate, a young and 1840.] Who Governs, then? 287 beautiful wife, an independent fortunewhy be a servant when you can be a master? Why not in the full bloom of your existence enjoy undisturbed the pleasures of life ? The gracious discharge of the Councillor of State was announced, and for the faithful performance of important services was connected with a moderate though honorable pension, which Nicholas had not even thought of. He did not refuse it. Nicholas and Pauline flew joyfully to their country estate. Here amid a beautiful landscape, in a delightful and friendly neigh- borhood, they soon forgot the mazy t~rnult of the capital. Nicholas more enamored of his young wife than ever he had been of the maid- en PaulinePauline living entirely in her husbandthey both lived in a paradise of matrimonial and domestic happiness. It was not long before the newspapers announced that the Cardinal Bernis had tendered his resignation to the king, by whom it had been accepted. Choiseul succeeded to his post. A short time after, as Nicholas and Pauline were one day sitting together in a bower of their spacious garden, they were not a little surprised when the figure of the cardinal suddenly stood before them. It was himself. His equipage had stopped in the outer courtyard of the chateau. He had caused himself to be shown the way, in order to come upon them by surprise. Happy pair that you are ! cried the cardinal, smiling, 1 regret to disturb you. Yet I was resolved to behold you in the fulness of your happiness. He embraced his friend Rosier, and kissed the blushing cheeks of his beautiful bride. The cardinal was forced t~ spend a couple of days with them. Longer he could not be induced to stay. You do not know, my children, said he, whom you are har- boring. I am an exile from France. I must fly from the country of my fathers. I am going to Rome. lathe arms of the Muses I will console myself as well as I may. How? You an exile from France, most gracious sir ? cried Pauline and Nicholas, in astonishment. That can be no subject of astonishment to a philosopher like Nicholas, replied the cardinal. What you once answered, half in jest, to my inquiry, who governs, then ?when you said, perhaps tinkers, Savoyards, washerwomen, and so forthI have now experi- enced in earnest. You know the mode in which the Duke de Choi- seul has raised himself in the favor and grace of the king? A beau- tiful young girl, a relative of Choiseul, a maid-of-honor of the queen, had the fortune to please the eye of his Majesty. rrhe young lady took it into her head to play the part of Madame de Pompadourwas no prudeand the amour took its pleasant course in secrecy. The duke knew the whole. He pretended to be blind; the king was grateful to him. As soon as the duke perceived that the fugitive amour 288 Who Governs, then? [September, was beginning to cool, the duke again was the first who began to make a noise about it, and withdrew his relative from the court and Paris. The king was again grateful to him. But the duke had also, as a refined courtier, to secure the gratitude of Madame de Pompadour, in the profoundest secrecy, from true devotion to her person, betrayed to her the kings intrigue, and had removed the young lady only when the marchioness made it her request. He played his game with masterly skill, and was immediately rewarded with the embassy to Vienna. The marchioness, however, preferred to have one so devoted to her close at hand rather than at a distance. As soon, therefore, as I asked for permission to retire, because it was impossible for me longer to bear the disgrace of the fatal alliance with Austria and the war with Prussia, Choiseul became my successor. To have lost his sight at the proper momentat the proper moment to have regained itthis it was that placed the Duke de Choiseul at the head of France. But what, cried Pauline, was the cause of your banishment ? A trifling matter, replied the cardinal. I had the misfortune to incur the ill graces of a suttler girl. Your Eminence is jesting ! said Nicholas and Pauline. By no means. I have traced to its source the stream that swept me from the throne~ And at the source there sat a common suttler girl, the arbiter of my fortunes. One of my stable-boys who wanted to marry the girl, was dismissed from my service, because the scoun- drel got drunk every day, and was clearly convicted by the coachman of having been plundering me, and of selling my horses oats. The girl, soon about to become a mother, fell at my feet, and entreated for par- don for the red-nosed bridegroom. I repelled the request. She ran, complaining of my cruelty, to her special protector, a young lieuten- ant of the guards. The lieutenant of the guards ran to the wife of the Comptroller-General. She induced her husband to speak to me. I did not listen to the application. He, incensed thereat, complained of it to his mistress, a chambermaid of the Marchioness de Pompa- dour. The chambermaid said heaven knows what of me to the mar- chionessthe marchioness heaven knows what to the kingin short, I received a most gracious letter, in which it was intimated to me that I might exchange my abode in France for whatever country might be most agreeable to meand that, the sooner the better, because I made no secret that the measures of his majesty had not the fortune to please me. Therefore, am I now straight on my way to Rome. The cardinal departed after a couple of days. Nicholas and Pau- line congratulated themselves on their good fortune in their retirement. They continued in correspondence with their banished friend, who did not return to the favor of the king till after the death of the mar- chioness, about the sixth year of his banishment. But he took good care never again to accept a place at court. For, thought he, Who Governs, then ?

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The United States Democratic review. / Volume 8, Issue 34 United States magazine, and Democratic review Democratic review United States review J.& H.G. Langley, etc. New York, etc. October 1840 0008 034
The History and Moral Relations of Political Economy 291-311

THE UNITED STATES MAGAZINE AND DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. VOL. VIII. OCTOBER, 1840. No. XXXIV. THE HISTORY AND MORAL RELATIONS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY.* THE first of these books, as an elementary work, is the most valua~ ble contribution to the science of which it treats that has been issued from the American press. As a patient thinker, clear reasoner, arid methodical expounder of science, the author of it has few equals in the nation. Both of his books, we mean that on Moral Science, and the one before us, are remarkable for an arrangement at once minute and comprehensive, which seems to embrace the whole scope of the subject, and not to neglect its smaller branches and divisions. He posesses himself, in the first place, of all that has been written upon a topic, and then disposes of it in the most exact, orderly, and eco- nomical manner. Of course, none but the more general principles of science are furnished us, but these are given with so much clear- ness and precision, and their grounds and mutual relations are so feli- citously explained, that we are at once put into possession of the whole matter. No new truths are added to our knowledge, but old truths are rendered of easy acquisition. In one respect, we think Mr. Wayland has introduced an improvement, that is, in making Exchange, which is usually treated of under the head of Distribu- tion, a separate and distinct head of itself. An inquiry into the princi- ples according to which the commodities of traffic are exchanged for each other, including, as it does, an investigation of the properties of a medium of exchange, or the origin and true functions of money, is of too an important a nature not to have a distinct place allotted to it. To treat of it under the same division with profits, wages, and rent, is to classify things essentially distinct. The second work aspires to a higher character than .that of Presi- dent Waylands, although it relates only to a single branch of eco * The Elements of Political Economy, By Francis Wayland: New York, 1837. A Treatise on Currency and Banking, By Condy Raguet: Philadelphia, 1840. The Principles of Political Economy, By Henry Vethake: Philadelphia, 1838. 292 Political Economy. [October, nomical science. That branch is, however, an important one, which has of late years attracted unusual attention, which has seldom been systematically managed, and which has given rise, perhaps, to more controversies, and to more crude and fantastic opinions, than any kindred question. If this book, therefore, had no other merit, it was, to say the least, seasonable. But it has higher claims to our regard. It is a most admirable treatise, generally correct in its teachings, full of important suggestions, well arranged, precise in its language, trans- parent in diction, and judicious in spirit. The nature of money, whether metalic or paper, the utility of banks, the limited and proper sphere of credit, and the general doctrines of trade, are explained with great perspicuity, skill, and amplitude as well as fidelity of illus- tration; we should dissent, no doubt, from some of the authors notions as to the coinage and as to the best method of banking, but should have no hesitation to commend his essay as an intelligent, profound, systematic, and well-reasoned exposition of an intricate but impor- tant topic. His views are expressed with freedom, but not hardihood, with that firmness and confidence which ever attend a mind conscious of urging truth. Mr. Vethakes book differs from both of the former books, as well in manner as in matter, but is in several respects more valuable than either. It is less elementary than the first, and more comprehensive than the second. He is not, however, an agreeable writer, nor is his method the most luminous and satisfactory. His sentences are often lo~~g and difficult, the links of his ratiocination are imperfectly supplied, and particular views are sometimes expanded to tedious- ness. But he is one who, to a thorough mast cry of what others have written, unites no small degree of originality. What he excels in, is the mode in which the subject is introduced. Definitions, which he regards as the mere assigning of names to classes of ob- jects, are not arbitrarily given: no position is taken for granted ; from one series of facts he ascends logically to another; and, what is es- pecially to be remarked, he treats of the moral relations, in connexion with the other aspects, of his subject. As to his novel innovation, in comprehending immaterial as well as material products under the denomination of wealth and capital, it has not yet struck us as so important as he would represent. But we shall start no controversy on that point. It cannot be de- nied that the controversies of political economists have brought their whole science into disparagement. There are those who regard it as a rude jumble of individual opinions. A number of writers, among whom Coleridge and Carlyle are conspicuous, make no con- cealment in treating it with feelings akin to contempt. They are ac- customed to say that its professors are ever at loggerheads, that none of its definitions are unquestioned, that not a single one of its boasted principles are settled, that purporting to be experimental, it is still as iS4O.] Its Method. 293 far from truth as it was at the beginning. To us these are silly ob- jections. If the disputes of its teachers are grounds for rejecting a doctrine, what one is left to us? Must we deny the deductions of Newton, because we have read of the whirling vortices of Descartes; must we gain say Locke, because of the vibratiuncles of Hartley, or is Christianity to be despised, because it is taught ia a thousand different churches? The truth is, as some one has justly observed, that in all intellecttial pursuits, a period of confusion necessarily pre- cedes a period unanimity. In the outset the elements of the subject are new and intractable; they have not been thoroughly embraced by the mind; they are mingled with, and distorted by, innumerable prejudices; while the intellect, impatient of acquisition, is prone at the first partial glimpse of truth, to dash into a hundred vagaries, arid only recovers its sobriety and temper, by long conflicts and severe discipline. Political Economy, in running at first into extravagance, has shared the fate of older sciences. It has journeyed through the wilderness, to enter at last the land teeming with rich harvests in the prospect. Like Pilgrim in the allegory, the slough s, the giants, the lions, the shadowy valleys it has passedit remains to it only to press forward to the celestial city. Looking more closely into the matter, we find there is one circum- stance, common to all sciences, which retards their more early deve- lopement. It is the want of a proper method. It is the disposition inquirers fall into, of pursuing a subject, each after his own fashion, without much regard to propriety or order. They set their faces in a particular direction, and then commence work with all their might, turning neither to the right nor the left, scarcely looking back, and pushing right on with indefatigable zeal and infinite pertinacity of purpose. \Vhen they arrive at the goal, they find themselves as far from the true object of their search as when they begun. They have striven laborously, but they have accomplished nothing. They have fol- lowed a will-o-the-wisp, through bogs, briars, and pools, to be deserted in some dark place, where it is quite impossible either to go on or return. After all their struggles, like children who have chased the golden bow formed in the glittering rain drops, they suddenly discover themselves in the midst of clouds and haze. No matter how pene- trating their sagacity or vigorous their logic, they are turned out of the way and seek in vain for the truth they are anxious to grasp. It were idle to doubt the acumen arid intellectual force of the ancient phi- losophers, but after the toil of centuries, to what did their boasted revelations of science amount? reacher succeeded teacher, school followed school, without adding more than a particle to the sum of useful human knowledge. The sophists of Greece gave way to So- crates ; Socrates to Plato, who in his turn was compelled to retire before the mightier genius of Aristotle, until the doctrines of both were alike forgotten in the interminable wranglings and wild vagaries 294 Its History. [October, of the schoolmen. The reason of all this barrenness was, that philoso- phers had not yet possessed themselves of a suitable method. It was the glory of Bacon to turn their minds in a more fruitful direction. He it was that exposed the folly of their proceedings, and by an- nouncing the true method of nature, the method of observation and induction, placed them in the path which alone could lead to useful or honorable results. That method, as is the case with truth always, is noted for its simplicity. It may be described in few words, as the interpretation of nature. Man, says he, must dismiss his preju- dices, must relinquish those idols which usurp the throne of the mind, and with the humility of a little child, set himself down, not to antici- pate, but to learn the nature and workings of the vast world of ani- mate and inanimate beings around him. To this the eager intellect of man is indisposed, and the conse- quence is, that it runs into much foolishness and many conflicts. Political Economy, along with other sciences, has suffered by the general mistake. Those who undertook to investigate it have com- menced by constructing a system before they were acquainted with facts. As imprudent architects, they framed their plans and cut out their superstructure before they procured their materials or measured their means. Forgetting that the only foundation of science are facts minutely observed and rigidly compared, their conclusions came to be individual notions, rather than scientific principles. The error was more atrocious, because Political Economy of all studies is eminently inductive. It rests upon facts, and by that method alone which begins with facts can it be successfully pursued. The object of it is to ascer- tain the laws that govern the production of wealth. These laws are nothing more than general expressions of what takes place under certain circumstances of human intercourse, and to be accurately learned must be carefully observed, to the exclusion of all deductions which are not made after the strictest principles of reason. They are generalizations of facts, facts brought together and compared with a view to the discovery of the general truths which may be lurk- ing in them. Heretofore observation has not been extended over the whole ground, the views are partial and inadequate, and subjects have been caught up only in a single aspect. When the economist, of the last century con- tended that the gain of one nation was the loss of another, or that the im- position of taxes was not felt by the industry of a nation, they had glanced merely at one side of the question, neglecting a vast mass of dependent and correlative truths. And so when the advocates of productive tariffs cOnten(l that the interposition of government stimu- lates the productive powers of labor, they see only a part of the subject, and are like schoolboys who essay to give an opinion of the calculus before they have mastered the multiplication table. If they had taken a larger view of the question, embraced a greater number of 1840.] Among the Ancients 295 its elements, traced the mutual and interacting influence of different circumstances, the toil would no doubt have been greater, but the result would have been complete. When one sets about investigating the nature of wealth, the processes by which it is produced, the laws regu- lating its distribution, and the manner it is most advantageously con- sumed, he is inquiring as to what actually occurs in a certain con- dition of human affairs. His whole business is to mark facts as they arise ; and then, after collecting a sufficient number of instances, it may ascend to such obvious deductions as the known principles of human action and the nature of things may warrant. This duty faithfully performed, he will find no trivial labor. The disturbing causes, or in the language of mathematics, the variable quantities are so many in every economical problem, that patient reflection alone can lead to a satisfactory solution. A hasty glance at tables of statistics, a rapid survey of collections of indigested data, sweeping conclusions from a limited number of instances, are not enough. These may serve for weaving together beautiful hypotheses, but not for the uprearing of a consistent theory. Apart from the deficiencies of its method, Political Economy has but just escaped from the struggles attending its birth and childhood. Two centuries since, the name of it was not written in the speech of men. It began with that reformation of political and social relations which emancipated industry from the shackles of despotism, when freedom was first beginning to make head against force, and the earth came to be regarded not as a seat for the strife of rapacious barons, but as a field for the exertions of thrifty people. Among the ancients, it could not be cultivated, because the objects to which it related were despised. Labor was a mark of degradation and a term of re- proach. It was a mode of activity suited to slaves and the outcasts of a debased populace. The great body of the people, as well as the rich men,the orators, the philosophers, the magistrates, and the priests, absorbed in the pursuit of an idle glory, disdained the humble occu- pations of husbandry and trade. Descended from those rude ages when men were employed in the duties of self-protection or con- quest, and the cares of useful industry were left to women, menials, and prisoners of war, they retained the prejudices of their ancestors against manufacturing or commercial labor long after the original cause had ceased to exist. Under the discipline of Lycurgus the Spartans were expressly enjoined not to engage in what were esteemed degrading employments, and in the other state of Greece, the manners, feelings, and entire structure of society conspired to raise a no less effectual prohibition. The spirit of their literature, their legislation, and their philosophy cast contempt upon the simpler forms of labor. Aristotle, when he mentions mechanics, speaks of them as a set of worthless and despicable beings; Plato banishes them altogether from his imaginary republic; even Cicero, with his more liberal genius, confesses that there can be nothing elevated in a workshop; 296 At the Downfall of the Roman Empire. [October, and Seneca tasks his ingenuity to defend the name of Democritus from the charge of having contrived the first arch, and that of Ana- charsis from the disgrace of having made a potters wheel. It may be esteemed in exception to this general condemnation of manual labor, that agriculture was held in higher repute. It is true, as we are told by the poet, Far back in the ages The plough with wreaths was crowned, and we know that Cato delighted in his gardens and fields, that Cincin- natus was taken from his farm to the dictatorship, that viclorious Captains retired from the triumph to the cottage, and that Columella has treated at length of the culture of the soil and of the innocent pleasures of rural occupations. But with these men, agriculture was esteemed not so much as a branch of useful labor, as a safe retreat from the turmoils and trouble of a more ambitious life. They turned to it in the spirit which Virgil has beautifully expressed in the Georgics. 0 fortunatos nimium, sna si bona norint, Agricolas quibus, ipsa, procul discordibus armis, Fundit humo facilem victuni justissimatellus. It was as a refuge from the discord of arms, as a sure haven into which one might comfortably glide after the stormy passage of life, that they deemed it honorable and sung its praises. As a means of procuring subsistance, of enriching nations, of giving employment to the masses, or of adding to the conveniences of society nt large, they committed it to the regards of the untaught hind and his fellow ox. Mart, in their view, was born to accomplish a noble destiny, to engage in the defence of the state, to lead armies to battle, to enslave neigh- boring provinces, to contend in the fervid race, to listen to enrap- tured orators, to solve the problem of existence, to minister in the tem- ples of the gods, to lounge amid the wits of the portico, and to drink wisdom from inspired lips in the groves of Academe. From a race im- bued with such principles, and accustomed to such exercises the science which related to the physical well-being of nations could never have sprung. The social relations in which its interesting questions have their origin did not exist, and if they had, the peculiar turn of their intellectual exertion would even have prevented them from investi- gating the laws and methods of economical progress. It is on this ac- count that the ancients in their pecuniary and commercial transactions displayed so much stupidity, and in their public administrations as well as in the regulation of private pursuits were alike injudicious and ignorant. With the downfall of the Roman Empire, the circumstances favorable to an enlarged study of economical science, were somewhat but only slightly improved. The same repugnance to regular industry, and the same fondness for abstract inquiries, contributed to the fostering of the same prejudices and errors. An unsettled state of society, passing 1e40.J Duri~ig the Middle Ages. 297 alternately through the vicissitudes of force and sloth, allowed no op- portunity either for the adoption of regular habits or the prosecution of useful study. When the deluge of barbarians from the north broke over the western provinces of the Roman Empire, centuries passed away in confusion before the troubled elements were permitted to subside. The exigencies of violence prevented the cultivation of the fields and interrupted the commerce of the towns. Powerful men, drawing around them hosts of their dependents, exhausted the energies of the social system in warlike struggles and predatory ex- cursions. The lands fell into the hands of these few and great pros prietors; where, through the institutions of primogeniture and entail, they ever afterward remained. Neither the landlord nor the tenant was devoted to their cultivation, because to the former there was wanting the inclination, and to the latter, the inducement. Both were satisfied if they could be made to provide for the demands of the hour. In this way they fell into neglect and gradual decay. The trade of the towns, without a stimulus in the prosperity of the sur- rounding country, degenerated into the transient and uncertain ex- change of products of immediate need. There was no accumula- tion, no distant interchange of commodities, no bargaining beyond the higgling of the stalls, or the chance traffic with pedlers and marauding companies. At the same time the clergy had assumed the control of seats of learning, and introduced into the common stu~. dies the scholastic and subtle spirit of controversy which distin- guished their own pursuits. Logic, divinity, grammar, metaphysics, were the staple of their acquisitions. No light was shed upon the art of conducting the ordinary business of life, no inquiries were made into the sources of national wealth, no questions started as to the means of ameliorating or advancing the physical welfare of mankind. But gradually, through the privileges granted to the inhabitants of cities by princes anxious to defend their power from the inroads of the great barons, better influences came to prevail. Order and se- curity, which were the natural consequences of the protection afforded by the superior rulers, furnished traders with the opportunity of enlarg- ing the sphere of their operations. Commerce, by degrees, expanded its objects and its exertions. The knowledge acquired during the Crusades to the East, created a desire for luxuries and the finer sorts of manufactures. Markets were opened in towns for the superfluous products of the country, and the country was encouraged to make use of its productive powers by the prospect of growing civilization and wealth. Merchants emerged into notice, because of the pecuniary facilities they were enabled to extend to governments; while, along with the increasing ambition of opulence, there came the disposition to examine into its causes and the best means of effecting its accu- inulation. It was at this period that Political Economy was born, or rather that the materials were begun to be collected, out of which it S2 298 Its Great Fpoc1~s. [October, was to be subsequently formed. Men of acute genius, with their sa- gacity whetted by a pervading love of gain, addressed themselves to the analysis of wealth, of the social arrangements which led to its production, of the institutions that retarded its increase, of the natural agents that assisted labor, of the principles of barter, of the facilities of intercourse, of the influences of population, and of the nature and utility of the various modes of human employment. Who were the first authors that treated systematically of these points, it would exhaust our space to enumerate. Both in Italy and England tracts were from time to time put forth in elucidation of the commercial difficulties and troubles that successively arose. Many of these were written with skill, and foreshadowed faintly the great doctrines of later writers.* But they are disfigured by the imma- turity and prejudices that marked the opinions of the times, and are only valuable as they indicate the pro~ress of inquiry. Like the dry leaves upon the shores of a stream, they are marks of the swelling and falling of the tide of public feeling, as it was swayed hither and thither by one delusion or one conviction after another. In this re- spect they are interesting to those who carry their researches into the minuter channels of knowledge. To others, and to the general reader, it is sufficient to he informed of the greater incidents that modify the advancement of opinion. Political Economy has had three or four several important epochs, which diversify the history of its course, while they distinguish the conspicuous changes through which modern society has passed. These may be separated as (1.) The era of the rise and decline of the mercantile or manufacturing sys- tems; (2.) The era of the prevalence of the economists or the agricul- tural system; (3.) The advent of Adam Smith; and (4.) the suc- cession of Maithus, Ricardo, and the more recent authors. These we shall touch upon briefly in turnmore briefly than we could desire. I. The constant use that was made, from the earliest ages, of gold and silver, both as a medium of exchange and a measure of value7 naturally led to the idea that they were the chief constituents of wealth. As the opulence of individuals and nations was estimated by the amount of money in their possession, it became the policy of states to accumulate as great an amount of the precious metals as possible within their respective domains. Laws were everywhere framed, by repressing every species of trade which might lead to a diminution of the precious metals, to prohibit the subtraction of coin. In Spain and Portugal these enactments were carried to such a severity as to make the exportation of gold and silver a penal offence, * Notices of the more important may be found in McCulloughs Introduction to Adam Smith, an essay abounding in learning and judicious reflection, the first7 and we believe the most complete, history that has been given of the rise and prc~ ~sress of the science, 1840.J The Mercantile System. 299 punishable with the most cruel tortures and death. But as the spirit of commerce came to prevail, merchants found this system of restraint to be irksome and inconvenient, and sought by a variety of expedi- ents to lessen the burdens it imposed. The East India Company, in particular, which had long carried on a lucrative traffic with the Indies, the main part of which was effected by means of the precious metals, protested against the fetters which had been placed upon their exportation. They did not, however, arraign the prevailing doctrine, that money was the sum and substance of wealth, but endeavored, by a coin- plex series of reasonings, to prove that, under certain circumstances, the exportation of it was beneficial, in producing what was termed a favor- able balance of trade. Their argument was this :rhat it was idle to attempt to prohibit the exportation of gold and silver, if there was a demand for them abroad, because the great value concentrated in a small bulk enabled them to be easily smuggled, and because the foreign goods often imported in their place by being re-exported might increase their quantity. So plausible was this view, and so strenuously was it defended by a class supposed to be acquainted with the operations of commerce, it was not long in obtaining a general adoption. rI~he efforts of the state were then turned to bringing about an advanta- geous foreign trade. To extend the exports of domestic, and to diminish the imports of foreign, goods, became the great end. In this view, a system of restrictive measures was advanced, which at once perfected the mercantile theory. High duties, sometimes amounting to absolute prohibitions, were laid upon the introduction of all goods that could not be produced at home, and especially upon those coming from nations with which there was supposed to be an unfavorable balance of trade. At the same time, to encourage e xpor- tation, bounties and drawbacks were granted either to stimulate new kinds of home production, or to favor such as was held of special use. Commercial treaties were instituted, securing to the merchants of particular nations trading privileges above the merchants of other nations, and colonies were established, with the same design, in distant and fertile parts where the merchants of certain natiolhs might pos- sess themselves of an entire monopoly of their trade. By this method, fetters and obstacles were set ronnd the energies of com- merce. The spirit of exclusiveness pervaded every branch of it but, as it afterward turned out, only to narrow the circle of its exer- tions, and to impair its profitableness as well as its utility. Experi- ence taught those most directly interested, that by consenting to the notion that the precious metals were wealth, they had sanctioned an error, and the discovery of this mistake led them to question the solidity of other parts of their theory. Gold and silver came to be considered of the same nature with other commodities, and the restraints put upon the exportation of these were in consequence, after no little controversy, gradually abandoned. But many absurdities, generated 300 [October, The Agricultural System. by the original doctrine, were reserved to be exploded at a later day. Had these men carried their researches further, they might have as- certained that not only was their fundamental principle wrong, but the whole superstructure reared upon it was false. The object of com- merce is not to augment the sum of the precious metals in a country, but to multiply and enlarge the comforts and conveniences of its popu- lation, an effect best accomplished by permitting to individuals the largest freedom, both in the selection and management of their pur- suits. Bounties, duties, monopolies, and restrictive regulations, of what kind soever, have but one effect, either to divert capital and labor from the objects to which they would naturally be directed, to those less advantageous, or to tax productive employments generally, for the sake of sustaining one or two enterprises which, without as- sistance, would be unprofitable. For if these enterprises were of themselves profitable, they would be undertaken without external help, and if they were not profitable, they could only be made so by drawing aid from more useful and lucrative sources. II. While the commercial system was undergoing a fierce discus- sion in England and on the Continent, an opposite system obtained in France, under the direction of M. Quesney, a physician of the time of Louis the Fifteenth. He had been led to investigate the depressed condition of agriculture, and in the course of his inquiries the whole subject of wealth came under review. He examined into its sources, and attempted a systematic analysis of its elements. His partiality for agricultural pursuits conducted him to the doctrine that the earth is the only source of production. He was confirmed in this view, by observing that of all classes engaged in industry those who cultivated the soil were alone able to pay rent for the mere use of natural agents, or to realize from their products a nett surplus above the cost of production. Other classes he allowed were useful in conducting the economy of society, but their business produced no value, be- cause the value accruing from manufacturing or transporting their pro- ducts only replaced the original capital they consumed in the opera- tion. The community he therefore divided into three orders: the first, proprietors of land, who contribute to production by the expenses incurred in improving their lands, in draining, enclosures, building, and such other ameliorations as tended to render the land more prolific; the second, the cultivators of the soil, farmers and their dependents, whose actual labor in ploughing, sowing, planting, amid reaping, added to the variety and amount of the annual produce ; and third, me- chanics, artificers, and merchants, who added nothing to the wealth of society, because the value they added to commodities was only equivalent to the stock which employed them, together with its ordi- nary profits. A natural deduction from this theory was, that the pro- ductive classes, as they were termed, bore all the expenses of the state; and it was accordingly proposed that the taxes laid by the civil 1840.] Adam Smzth. 301 authorities should be made to fall directly upon the nett produce or rent of land. Quesneys reasoning wrought conviction in the minds of a large body of disciples, among the more eminent of whom were Turgot, Marquis de Mirabeau, and Dupont de Nemours, who, by the exclusiveness of their zeal and the persistency with which they main- tained their doctrines, acquired the name of the Economists. rjihe weak- ness of their system is obvious enough. Production does not consist, as they imagined, either in materials themselves or in the creation of materials, but in the creation of utility, which can only be effected by human exertion. Land is without value until the hand of indus- try has been applied to it, and then only, because by means of its products the wants and comforts of human beings are supplied. The utility of anything is its adaptability to the gratification of human desires, and whether this property has been given to it by the labor of the husbandman, the artificer, or the merchant, whether by raising it from the soil, or by modifying it through some process of manufacture, or by conveying it from place to place, it is equally fitted to human use, and equally possesses a value for which other values will be given in exchange. The source of its value, then, is the labor expended upon it in the course of bringing it to the con- dition or place where it can be made of immediate use. ILL The advent of Adam Smith, in 1776, like the rising of the sun, dissipated the clouds that had been gathered in the twilight of economi- cal science. rpo his great work on the Wealth of Nations is the glory due of having demonstrated the errors of his forerunners, and of erecting a system of truth and consistency in their place. He was fitted above all the men of his time for the peculiar task his genius accomplished. He belonged to that school of free inquirers and in- dependent thinkers, just then in its vigor, who carried an unsparing analysis into all the institutions and notions of the past. The friend of Hume and many of the more celebrated French Philosophers, he was thoroughly imbued with that spirit of reform, which in their cases was carried to such a pernicious extreme, but which in his case was restrained by his sympathy with those researches only that con- cerned the physical well-being of society, and his want of interest in the higher inquiries connected with our moral and religious welfare. Like them, his mind was rather clear-sighted than comprehensive; what he saw at all he saw distinctly; he grasped it with great tenacity, and adhered to it with a firmness of purpose which was a proof both of the penetration of his vision and the energy of his will. But unlike them, he was not fond of the glitter of paradox, h~id no rage for mere innovation, and in what direction soever he subverted, was prepared with materials and instruments in hand, to undertake the labor of reconstruction. Accordingly he was not content with merely picking to pieces the fabrics raised by those who had gone before him, but in all instances set about rebuilding what he had do- 302 His Great Work. [October, stroyed, on the very spot of its former glory. He was acute, subtle, and well-informed in the particular sphere in which he labored. He was extensively possessed of all that had been written and said upon the problems of Political Economy. A life of alternate practical observation and abstract study had imparted to him a knowledge of details, while it qualified him for the business of investigation. By practice as a writer upon general subjects, he became skilful in the art of communicating the results of his meditations to others, and habits of literary intercourse had taught him the secrets of simplicity, grace and ease of style, an attainment quite as necessary to the construction of a great work on any science, as diligence of research, compass of view, or soundness of reasoning. With small deference for authority, he had still enough of it to keep him from fantastic theorizing, and to give his writings that practical cast which obtain for them a ready hearing in the audience of general society. Had he been more abstruse, he would have been less popular, and had he been less bold, he would have been not so much adapted to the spirit and tendency of his age. His wreat work is a formal treatise on the science of national wealth. It is divided into five parts, under the minor arrangements of which he has managed to touch almost all the questions that relate to the great and peculiar objects of the science. The first book is devoted to an exposition of the causes that assist the productive powers of labor, and of the laws which regulate the distribution of the results of that labor among the different classes composing the community. rfhis topic, it will be perceived, includes the question as to the effect of the division of employments, the functions and uses of money, the nature and influences of price, the wages of industry, the profits of capital, the rent of land, and the various subordinate inquiries involved in the more general subjects. The second book is but an expansion of the first, on so much of his theme as comprehends an investigation of the nature, accumulation, and employment of stock. He explains the different kinds of capital, the methods by which it is increased, the origin of interest, and the comparative profits of the many branches of enterprise in which capital is used. The third is more theoretical in its views, designed to illustrate by a series of observations and argu- ments the natural progress of opulence, as the discouragements to agri- cultural and commercial industry are gradually renewed. The fourth book is an examination of pre-existing systems of political economy, in which the principles of free-trade are developed at length, particu- larly in their application to the fetters placed upon external commerce and internal production. And the fifth book treats of the revenue of the sovereign, by which is meant the principles which govern taxation and the other modes usually resorted to for supplying the expenses of government. In each of these books there are numerous and ex- tended digressions on points suggested in the course of treating the more general topics. Some of these unfold his most important doe- 1840.] Smiths Merits. 303 trines, and are all valuable, if not for the science they contain, at least for the variety of learning and beauty of illustration in which they abound. But Smith is not to be taken as an infallible guide. There are defects as well as excellencies in his work. Of the former, are com- monly specified his want of precision in language, his irregular and confused arrangement, his frequent discusiveness, his departure in some cases from his own fundamental principles, his leaning to the doctrines of the Economists, and his great errors as to the nature of the value and the origin of rent, which modify, perplex, and distort several of his most radical conclusions. rrhese are, however, defects easily obscured in the splendor of those services which he rendered to his chosen science. Had he done no more than adorn a dry and distasteful subject with the blandish- ments of rhetoric, mankind would have been indebted to him for a vast amount of pleasure and instruction. But he did more. He was the first to appreciate the vital importance of carefully analys- ing the phenomena of wealth. He was the first to apply to them that experimental method which raised physical science from the dunghill to the temple. He was the first to detect and demonstrate the absurdities of those older systems which had so long held the world in bondage, reigning alike with supreme authority over the me- ditations of the philosopher, the plans of the merchant, and the pre- judices oft he vulgar. He was the first to reveal, in the glory of its simplicity and beauty, the eternal doctrine of Free Trade. He laid hold of the matter at its roots. He dismissed from his mind all that others had done or fancied they had done. He began a career of independent investigation. He went thoroughly into its depths. He scattered the mists which had been collected in the dawn of thought. He put to flight the bug-bears and monsters conjured up by the warm imagination of heated partisans. He dragged to light all the mys- teries that were thought to lurk behind the principles of commerce. He established on immutable foundations the safety, the profitable- ness, the moral uses, of an unrestrained prosecution of industry, and an unfettered intercourse among nations. That the restraints im- posed upon commerce were an evil, that they were founded in the narrowest spirit of selfishness, and supported by the shallowest reasons of ignorance, that they were clogs to enterprise as well as obstacles to civilization, that they depressed the physical energies of a people, while they retarded their social advancement, in short, that they were unworhy of men, either as intelligent, benevolent, pro- gressive. or even trading creatures, he proved by a logic so infrangi- ble, and illustrations so clear, that to this day it has baffled the most ingenious intellects to resist the force of his reasonings or find a flaw in his doctrines. rhis is, then, his pre-eminent distinction. He was the apostle of Free Trade. As Paul had carried Christianity into 304 Maltkus and Rieardo. [Octobei1 all the cities of the heathen world, and as Bacon had applied the torch of a true method to the logomachies of the schoolmen, so Smith lifted up the light of the glorious principle of Free Trade, in the midst of the hosts who rallied around the banners of monopoly and restriction. In this he has shown himself a benefactor of the race that must take rank among the greatest. And the higher the attain- ments of society in wisdom, charity, and justice, the more vividly will it retain the remembrance of his services and worth. Of those who have followed in the path of Smith, there are two men, Malthus and Ricardo, to whom have been generally accorded the merit of the most distinguished place. The former, by his inquiries into the subject of population, and by the discussions to which those inquiries gave rise, opened a comparatively new field for investigation, and added to the number and interest of the problems which belong to the science. He attempted to unfold the relation which subsists between the procreating principle of human nature, and the productive powers of the earth. A long series of observations, drawn from the experience of man under all the circumstances of his condition, led him to the conclusion that the tendency of population is to outrun the means of its subsistence, and that consequently unless the productive powers of the soil were augmented, poverty, destitution, and famine were the inevitable lot of a certain portion of the human race. His view was fortified by numberless facts taken from the history of the ancient nations, of the ravages of diseases, of the desolations of war, and of the consequences of emigration. But the theory so boldly announced shocked the moral feelings of mankind; a host of opponents instantly rose up against it. They questioned the fundamental principles of Malthus, they denied his inferences, and to this day, they hold a divided empire with the modified opinions which later writers have introduced. Without attempting to decide the contest, it will be admitted by the adherents of both parties, that whatever may be said of the truth of Malthuss doctrines, they have awakened a new and keener interest in economical science, and expanded the sphere of its investigations. Mr. Ricardo, if he has not rendered the same, has rendered an equal service. By the acuteness and penetration of his intellect, by the mathematical accuracy of his logic, his searching and unsparing analysis, and the independence with which he has traced all the phenomena of wealth to their remotest relations, has won and de- served the rank of the most accomplished and influential modern teacher of the science. The American writers upon Political Economy have made but few advances upon the developements of their English and continental predecessors. Here and there, questions have been started as to the truth of one or two particular doctrines, but generally, such as the science exists in foreign treatises, it has been received in this country~ We cannot think, however, that the discussions, to which our recent 1840.] In the United States. 805 commercial experience has given rise, have unfolded certain applica- tions of old truths, that are a vast improvement upon the principles which obtain in the old world. The carrying of the doctrines of free trade into the business of banking is a new, and, it strikes us, a most im- portant, application of an admitted scientific fact. We are not informed to whom the honor of originally suggesting the idea is due, but we first met with it, enforced with great vigor of logic, in a political journal, the Evening Post, published in New York, under the editorial management of William Leggett, one of those fearless thinkers and writers of whom the world sees an example only two or three times in the course of a century, and of William Cullen Bryant, a gentleman distinguished alike for the grace and beauty of his poetry, the extent of his attainments, and the dignity and elegance of his prose writings. The suggestion itself is worthy of the profoundest attention of legislators, and that class of the community most interested in a sound and stable currency. No nation has had a more instructive experience on the subject of currency than the United S tates. One scheme of banking after another has been tried, with the same result, an utter failure. The plan of a national bank has been found to be inconsistent with the prosperity, morals, and iiberti~s of the country. Banks created by the States, under a vast variety of regulations, have failed in accomplishing the prime object of their creation, that of furnishing a sound and equable circulating medium. There is, there- fore, no other resort but to leave the business of discounting and circu- lating notes, where almost all other kinds of business are left, to the control of individual sagacity and enterprise. It is a gross mistake, a~ we view the matter, to suppose the interposition of the legislature to be more necessary here, than in the other branches of trade. Had we space, and did it consist with the design of the present article, this point could be made clear. Meanwhile let the following observations suffice: 1. Charters of incorporation, apart from political objections, are an endorsement, by the state, of the solvency and character of the corpo- rators, which gives a fictitious value to their issues over and above what is due to them on account of their real and personal worth. This enables them to force more money into circulation than the natural wants of society require, and thus facilitates the fatal tendency to excessive speculation. 2. Every capitalist has a natural right to dispose of his property and his credit in the manner he thinks best, provided he does not infringe the equal rights of others; and, according to the acknowledged principles of free trade, while promoting his own advantage is most likely to advance the interest of the community at large. 3. Under a free system, men of known worth and wealth only could establish confidence enough to procure a free circulation for their bills. voL. viii. NO. xxxlv.ocToBER, 1840. T ao~ Free Trade in Banking. [October, 4. Such men are the best qualified, having a great interest at stake, to decide upon the claims of men applying to them for accommodations. 5. Banking would be more precisely adjusted to the business of the country, because there would be fewer inducements to, and no oppor- tunities for, excessive issues, personal liability and interest lessening the former, and unlimited competition destroying the latter. And 6. The greater part of the ordinary circulation would consist of the metals, while paper would be appropriated to its rightful sphere, the heavier transactions of trade. These principles, too briefly stated perhaps to he apprehended in all their force, we hold to be no less important than correct, and are destined to a general adoption by society, if not by the power of reasoning, by the compulsion of circumstances. Artificial modes of businessand what can be more artificial than our systems of banking ?inevitably lead to vicissitudes and calamities that prepare the way for more natural arrangements. The long series of terrific explosions to which our commerce has been exposed, cannot close so long as the chief cause is permitted to remain. That cause is the attempt to regulate, through the awkward contrivances of legislation, what if left to itself would work as smoothly and beneficially as the unperverted mechanism of the human system. The interference of quacks and bunglers is the signal for derangement. There is enough in these brief historical references to show us that the advancement of society consists in the gradual approaches made to a general adoption of the doctrines of economical science. As it has thrown aside one restraint after another, and ascended step by step in the scale of well-being, it has only illustrated the truth of those great principles which science had long before developed. Theory has ever anticipated practice; f6r the deductions of individual men precede the convictions of the mass. It is on this account never dangerous for society to strive to realize the condition which just rea- soning proves it is capable to attain. So far from being dangerous, indeed, it is the dictate alike of wisdom and of policy to pursue the course indicated and sanctioned by admitted scientific principles. In Political Economy, for instance, we are of opinion that it would be for the highest good of society, to put in instant practice the im- portant maxims composing the body of that science. We believe it would be good, because the relations of society would in that way be brought into closer correspondence with truth. He might take any one of its doctrines, and by showing its intimate connexion with the physical welfare, as well as with good order and morality, satis- factorily elucidate this point. The single principle of free trade is full of examples. That principle has a vital relation to much that concerns the happiness and moral elevation of man. It is important in its application to both the internal and external arrangements of a nation. Its practical acknowledgment would tend to the develope 1840.] Moral Relations of Political Economy. 307 ment and perfection of individual character. By throwing men upon their own energies for success, it would accustom them to the prac- tice of self-dependence and train them to habits of perseverance and economy. They would learn to value that labor which was the only source of their distinction. All modes of industry would be found to be equally necessary to comfortable social existence ; which would depress those jealousies springing from the supposition of the supe- riority of one class over another, and beget a mutual respect among those who were alike contributing to the necessities and enjoyments of their fellows. But the most valuable influence of freedom in the cho~ice and prosecution of pursuits would be in equalizing human con- ditions. rrhere is something in men that renders them averse to the contemplation of a great disparity in the social state of beings obvi- ously designedfor a political state of equality. Distinctions, whatever maybe thecause that produces them, breed ill-will and discontent, sepa- rating classes from all interchange of sympathies, and making the one arrogant and overbearing, and the other envious, restless, and bitter. So strong are these feelings that the most powerful restraints of edu- cation and self-discipline are often too weak to overcome them. To unite a society, therefore, to ~liffuse through it universal and permanent friendly feelings, to soften manners, to introduce courtesy in inter- course, the laws, customs, and methods of trade which fetter one man while they facilitate another must be altogether abrogated. Place men upon an equal footing, as to the advantages of social life, and you cement the bonds of society and refine the tone of its manners. By creating a greater mutual dependence, you increase mutual respect. And the same is true in regard to the intercourse of nations. Nothing has done more to separate distant peo~e, than the restraints laid by the policy of government upon the most perfect freedom of commerce. It has converted the world, from what it should be, the home of a vast family of brothers, into a slaughter-house for indis- criminate and reckless butchery. This truth has not been dwelt upon enough by political writers, and can not be too strongly impressed upon public attention. Let us, therefore, devote the remainder of this paper to a brief consideration of the connexion of free trade with the advancement of national civilization and peace. The restraints im- posed upon commerce are, we repeat, productive of the worst moral effects. Tariffs, navigation laws, duties, restrictive regulations of whatever name, and for whatever purpose they are established, are hostile to the highest interests of all the parties concerned. The very base upon which they rest is laid in falsehood and ill-will. All systems of restrictions begin with the idea that nations are of neces- sity adversaries. Whereas the truth is, that nations are naturally friends. Every arrangement of Providence indicates that they were intended to live in harmony. Nations are but aggregates of individual l~eings, endowed with the same affections, hopes, and fears, & ul~jects of 308 Diversity of Human Condition. [October, the same earthly fortune, heirs of the same destiny, and members of one broad indissoluble brotherhood. Whatever may have been the design of that diversity of condition that prevails among men, it was not that they should be enemies. In all that concerits the grand and permanent characteristics of their nature they are equal; and obliga- tions of justice are laid upon all, with which no contrivances of policy, no requirements of government, and no claims of kindred can dispense. Mankind are parts of a great fraternity, superior in many respects to commonwealths or families, and imposing, by its broader relations, duties to which those imposed by relations more feeble and confused must inevitably give way. It is true, men are placed in different .cir- cumstances of life; that in their capacities, their characters, and their local position, there is a contrast almost as marked as that between themselves and the brute; that they are born under different skies, live after a different plan, imbibe different principles, and die with different hopes; but these are diversities which, though they may create a re- pugnance of sentiment and an uncongeniality of taste, are no justi- fications of deep and unrelenting hostility. They were intended for other purposes than the gratification of feelings of mutual antipathy. They are the source of blessings, both economical and moral, of an ele- vated kind. Diversity of soil and climate adds to the number of valu- able products and the multiplicity of human enjoyments. rrhe niggard- ness of one region is compensated by the luxuriance of another; if the south yields its generous fruits, the north offers its useful ores; the agri- culture of one place is returned for the manufactures of a second, while the commerce of a third accomplishes the labor of the exchange. Po- litical divisions concentrate the strength of scattered individuals; they facilitate the administration of public affairs; they adapt social institu- tions and laws to the relative degress of social advancement made by various people, and assist in training nations to virtue by the discipline of change and progress. There are, therefore, better reasons for the diversity of which we have spoken than that nations may make ~var upon each other. Separation and unlikeness are not necessarily anta- gonism. Enmity is the afterthought of selfish statesmen, who are cradled in prejudice or nursed in folly, and who come, under the influence of a corrupt ambition, to laugh at rectitude as a jest, and to sport with the happiness of millions as children do with their toys. It is the wicked policy which such men have originated that fills nations with bitter and passionate animosity. Let their own schemes be successful, they care not what becomes of the interest of the multi- tude. They tax and levy contributions without number and without end. They have waged wars, seized thrones, blotted out whole na- tions, convulsed the earth with feuds, and crimsoned its fair fields with blood. Year after year they have plunged the debased people deeper in degradation. Thus war and wo have been multiplied; thus the estrangement between nations has widened so that long ages will 1840.] Its Advantages. 309 hardly close the gap; arid thus the spirit of implacable enmity has been fostered, until it has become almost a matter for the sternest moral courage to assert the original relationship of men, to proclaim the duty of mutual respect, or to insist upon the supreme obligation of cherish- ing peace. Tariffs and commercial restrictions are modes in which this detestable spirit of enmity manife~ts itself. They are a part of an odious system of selfishness and seclusion, a system that regards nations as unavoidable enemies, made such by the ordinations of Provi- dence, and continued such by the necessities of their being. Surely a fouler libel upon God and humanity could not well be perpetrated. These restraints, by arresting national intercourse, diminish what- ever of civilizing influence there is in commerce. Their very design is to render one people independent of others by the careful exclusion of all foreign products. An opinion prevails that a nation may be made competent to supply its wants solely from its own resources. qarried out, this opinion contemplates a state of perfect isolation, in which the various nations of the earth would be no more to each other than are the inhabitants of different spheres. Of course, commerce of any kind is inconsistent with the assumptions upon which this doc- trine rests. If each nation is adequate of itself to supply its infinite wants, all other nations, so far as mutual alliance and intercourse is concerned, might cease to exist. As curiosities they may be interest- ing, but as the means of furnishing various products and enlarging the scope of human enjoyment, they might as well not be. Like those frozen regions of the north which no eye sees, or those burning deserts of the south which no foot visits, they would be for all practical purposes the merest blanks of creation. The agency of commerce in dispensing civilization and refinement would be annihilated. What does the policy propose but to cut off that circulation and exchange of products among nations, which is as much their life and health as the circulation of the blood is the life and health of the body? Whe- ther it is adopted in practice on a larger or smaller scale, this is its effect to the extent in which it is adopted. Thinkers of all ages and of all nations agree in ascribing as much of the elevation and advance- ment of the human race to commerce, as to almost any other single cause. If they have been mistaken in their estimates of this influ- ence, it is high time the minds of men were disabused of the error. On the other hand, if there is a reality in that influence, it is no less important to learn the nature and extent of the benefits, and the best way of expanding them, and especially what obstructions are in the way of a more general propagation of them. Commerce strikes us as an important instrument of civilization, because it assists in the formation of those moral opinions and habits, which are essential to the right ordering of a common- wealth, and of that liberal spirit which is the spring of a generous foreign policy. The opulence it pours into the Lap of -enterprise is 310 Influence of Commerce. [October, the least of its advantages. We value it for its efficacy in enlarging the scope of human thought, expanding the sympathies, softening and refining the manners, and cherishing harmony and good-will among nations having so many occasions of discordancy. When a people are confined to their own narrow limits, bound up in the contempla- tion of selfish interests, engrossed wholly by partial aims, the range of their best feelings is circumscribed, they fall into contracted and intolerant modes of thought, and anything like expansion and lofti- ness of principle is never attained. Strangers, as in the ancient empires, become barbarians; whatever is of foreign origin is treated with contempt; a rancorous and bigoted scorn of foreign improve- ments is engendered, and the whole people degenerate into a most ignoble and worthless character. China, with her natural wealth, with her immense population, with her facilities of intercourse, might, under an open policy, centuries since have awed the world by the grandeur of her power, at the same time that she blessed it with the munificence of her literary and moral acquirements. As it is, there are few so poor as do her reverence, Nations, like men, like families, to escape the evils of a most brutal ignorance ~and sel- fishness, must depart occasionally from the small circle of their own peculiar interests, must mingle in the general strife, and take part in the common race for glory and power. A new life is then infused, old encumbrances are shaken off, every faculty is exerted, every muscle is strained, and the great task of improvement is undertaken resolutely. The consequence is, that their resoUrces are soon drawn out, wealth accumulates, elevated usages 6btain, and habits of industry infix themselves in the social economy. Nothing can be plainer than the mode in which these results are accom- plished. Intercourse with others expands the sphere of thought. Knowledge removes the causes of many foolish and hurtful preju- dices. The asperities of selfish feeling are worn away by constant contact. The principles of science and literature are in their nature diffusive, and national intimacy begets national forbearance and deference. For these reasons, commerce, from the earliest step made in national progress, has stimulated and strengthened every element of social growth. The first seats of civilization were on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, and along the gulfs and streams which were first navigated. When society threw off the despotism of the Middle Ages, its most quickening impulses were received from the spirit of adventure and trade which then began to animate men. The esta- blishment of a mercantile class was the most effective encroachment made upon the tyranny of the nobility. Men of all orders rushed into it as the only means of personal aggrandizement. Very soon it grew powerful enough to assert its dignity and claim respect. Provi- dence came to its aid, by forcing kings and nobles, impoverished by ~var, to solicit its friendship. Each day added to the consciousness 1840.] The Death of Don Pedro. 311 of its importance, until it swelled into a magnitude and strength that rivalled the powers that were before enslaving the world. Once established, society breathed freer; the barbarous manners of the olden time were modified, prosperity advanced, and refinement ex- tended its influence to every description of the people. As the spirit of commerce has spread, the blessings of civilized existence have been proportionably diffused. The manners of men have relaxed, and from the study of war they have turned to the cultivation of the gentler arts of peace. If, then, commerce is the handmaid of civili- zation, if it accustoms nations to peaceful pursuits, is it consistent with the highest interest of humanity to restrain its honorable exer- tions? Every fetter imposed upon its perfect freedom of action post- pones the prevalence of justice and right, and delays the happy day when nations shall be at enmity no more. THE DEATH OF DON PEDRO. BY THE AUTHOR OF THE BROTHERS cRoAWELL THE CHARIB BRIDE, & c. EVEN in those fierce daysdays of adventure and of bloodno fiercer action, nor more hardily contested, was fought out, than that wherein nigh Montiel the fiery valor of the bastard Transtamara, back- ed by the flower of Frances chivalrySir Alan of St. Paul, Sir Alyot of Calays, and a whole host of scarce inferior name, mustered beneath the banner of the far-famed Du Guesclinprevailed in fratri- cidal strife over the desperate arms of PedroPedr,o of Aragon, The Cruel. Once re-established on his tottering throne by the Black Prince of England, scarcely had he refrained from his accustomed tyranny and bloodthinst, during the presence at his court of Britains hope and herobut when the leopard standards ceased to wave in the soft southern breeze, when the stout archers of the Ocean Isle had turned their serried columns homeward, then on the instant, re- vealed in his true light, shone forth the tyrant. Blood had flowed river-like through every street of every Spanish town, till, as it ever doth, oppression gave birth to resistancethe innocent gore found a voice, and cried to Heaven not all unheard for vengeance. Unsubdued still, although defeated, Henry of Transtamara had leaped joyously to arms at the first call of the indignant rebels; nor had his trumpet rung unechoed by the world-famous war cries of Frances best and 4

The Author of 'The Brothers' - 'Cromwell' - 'The Charib Bride' The Author of 'The Brothers' - 'Cromwell' - 'The Charib Bride' The Death of Don Pedro 311-318

1840.] The Death of Don Pedro. 311 of its importance, until it swelled into a magnitude and strength that rivalled the powers that were before enslaving the world. Once established, society breathed freer; the barbarous manners of the olden time were modified, prosperity advanced, and refinement ex- tended its influence to every description of the people. As the spirit of commerce has spread, the blessings of civilized existence have been proportionably diffused. The manners of men have relaxed, and from the study of war they have turned to the cultivation of the gentler arts of peace. If, then, commerce is the handmaid of civili- zation, if it accustoms nations to peaceful pursuits, is it consistent with the highest interest of humanity to restrain its honorable exer- tions? Every fetter imposed upon its perfect freedom of action post- pones the prevalence of justice and right, and delays the happy day when nations shall be at enmity no more. THE DEATH OF DON PEDRO. BY THE AUTHOR OF THE BROTHERS cRoAWELL THE CHARIB BRIDE, & c. EVEN in those fierce daysdays of adventure and of bloodno fiercer action, nor more hardily contested, was fought out, than that wherein nigh Montiel the fiery valor of the bastard Transtamara, back- ed by the flower of Frances chivalrySir Alan of St. Paul, Sir Alyot of Calays, and a whole host of scarce inferior name, mustered beneath the banner of the far-famed Du Guesclinprevailed in fratri- cidal strife over the desperate arms of PedroPedr,o of Aragon, The Cruel. Once re-established on his tottering throne by the Black Prince of England, scarcely had he refrained from his accustomed tyranny and bloodthinst, during the presence at his court of Britains hope and herobut when the leopard standards ceased to wave in the soft southern breeze, when the stout archers of the Ocean Isle had turned their serried columns homeward, then on the instant, re- vealed in his true light, shone forth the tyrant. Blood had flowed river-like through every street of every Spanish town, till, as it ever doth, oppression gave birth to resistancethe innocent gore found a voice, and cried to Heaven not all unheard for vengeance. Unsubdued still, although defeated, Henry of Transtamara had leaped joyously to arms at the first call of the indignant rebels; nor had his trumpet rung unechoed by the world-famous war cries of Frances best and 4 312 The Death o] Don Pedro. [October, bravest. It needs not step by step to follow up the fortunes of the fierce rival brothers. Enough! they met nigh Montiel, and though he did most doughtily a leaders devoir, fighting in the front ever with a mighty axe, and striking down a knight at every invocation of his patron saint, Don Pedro was borne back. His mercenary troops Saracens, Jews, and Portuguesemight not abide the brunt of Frances knightly spears, although the Moors of Belmaryn and of Grana- da fought fiercely with their bows and archegayes, and did that day full many a noble deed of armsalthough his banner was advanced, so that it met and rencountered that of his bastard brother, who fought within a spears-length distance, each shouting forth his battle cry! Then the battalion of Don Pedro opened their serried ranks, and waveredthen came a fresh and fiercer charge, led by the valiant Du Guesclin, all blood from spur to helmet-plume, Castile, Castile they shouted for King Henry! Castile, and our lady Du Guesclin and with that furious onslaught the battle in truth ended. Don Fer- dinand di Castro, the stoutest knight and stanchest councillor of Pedro, turned his rein forcibly aside from the tremendous mellay, in which assuredlyhe would have perished else, and dragged him from the field. Sire, he said, tis timeand little time enoughto save your- self; withdraw, then, straightway into your castle of Montiel, for if you be now taken, you are but a dead monarch. Well said that stout knight and stanch councillor, that there was little time enough; for, as they fled with loosened rein and bloody spur, twelve persons only in a body of all that mighty host, which made so gallant and so proud a show at sunrise, the Begue of Vil- laynes with a strong band of spears pursued so hotly on their track that, had the gates been closed, not one of their small company but must have died full knightly in his shoes of steel, or yielded to his captors courtesy. Fortune had not, however, as yet set altogether for Don Pedro. One hour later, and the gates of Montiel would have been closed, the drawbridge lifted, the guard for the night-watch posted. As it was, unchallenged and unchecked they dashed across the clattering drawbridge, beneath the echoing vault of the large Gothic arch; and the porteullis fell, clanking and rattling at their heels; and the uplifted bridge opposed its massy strength to their pursuers. Still they might see, however, within brief distance of the ramparts, not indeed out of bowshot, had they been English archers who mustered on the barbican and ballium, the Begue of Vil- laynes pitching his knightly banner on the road, and marshalling his men-at-arms so as to guard each outlet, and frustrate every effort at escape. The night, that common friend of wearied and dismantled armies fell darkling over hill and dale, and put an end to the pursuit, which had so fiercely and so mercilessly urged the few and faint survivors of that most bloody field. The night fell dark and gloomy, 1840.] The Death of Don Pedro. 313 but not with so obscure and palpable a shadow as that which sank down, like a misty curtain, over the high and cheery couragehis sole redeeming featureof the bloodthirsty Pedro. The morning rose again, filling the firmament with splendor and with melody, cha- sing each shade and mist-wreath from the bright face of nature, but banishing no single cloud of those which frowned so hopelessly, so pitilessly dark on the broad manly brow of thisthe desolator deso- latethe victor overthrown. With the first dawn of day the scanty garrison of Montielscanty, yet faithfulwas mustered under arms; to repel any onslaught which might be attempted by the followers of the Begue. Right strong, however, was the castle, not less by natu- ral position than by artificial works, and able to have held out for months, nay, years, against the feeble means which alone had been invented at that early day for the assault of strong and castellated buildings. But, haplessly for Pedro, it had so fallen out, that there was scant four days provision in the magazines, nor any method for recruiting them. The castle, built on a high and craggy eminence, oerlooking many a mile of lovely champagne, vineyards, and olive- groves, and seas of bright and waving wheat, with the dark umbrage of the glossy cork-wood interspersed on all sides, could be approached only by one steep and terraced road, on which midway the ascent, the foreign standard of the Seigneur of Villaynes waved proudly, as in triumph, under the all-sufficient guard of some five hundred lances, among which shone the blazoned pennons of three or fourthe noblest, of Du Guesclinwhile all the plain below for a miles distance from the mountain foot, was whitened by the close pavilions of Don Henrys conquering hosta camp sufficient for the sojourn of, at the least, ten thousand warriors. It was apparent at a glance that no attack was thought of; the enemy were, it could scarce be doubted, as well in- formed of the resources of the garrison, as they who looked so anx- iously from their beleagured ramparts; and had determined to incur no chance of loss to bring about an end, which, aided by no effort, must come to pass at last, and that at no far season. Hope left the bold heart of the Spanish king as he gazed downward from the walls, and saw the banner of his detested rival, detested more in that he should have been beloved, Henry of Transtamara displayed against his last stronghold. Hope left him, for he knew that, pent as he was in that rude mountain fort, no rallying point was left to his discomfited and scattered forces; that not one trumpet would be blown, nor one lance laid in rest to rescue him, for whom, had he stood free and fear- less on the battle plain, ten thousand swords would have leaped from their scabbards; ten thousand noble voices swelled the war-cry of Aragon for Pedro. Hope left him, it is true; but in her place doubt came not, nor despondency, nor fearand yet he knew rescue impossiblerendition worse than fruitless. He by whom no terms had been ever kept, who had respected no engagement, held no oath T2 314 The Death of Don Pedro. [October, sacred, whose want of knightly faith and knightly honor had only been less famous than his pre-eminence in hardihood and daring valor how could he look for that from anotheranother too so bitterly, so more than deadly hostile as was his bastard brotherwhich he had not been hypocrite enough even to feign himself one capable of grant- ing? Well he knew that thre