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TIIE UNITED STATES DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. VOLUME VI.XEW SEIUES. EDITED BY SPENCER W. CONE. LLOYD & COMPANY, 335 BROADWAY. J85~5. Jon~ A. GRAY, Printer and Stereotype,, 16 & 13 Jacob Street, N. Y. * INDEX TO VOL. VI. A PAGIS PAGE Horace Binney Wallace 428 After the Battle 83 A Morning at the Church of the Pilgrims, 42 A Mother lost 113 An American Dictionary, 189 Jackson an Atrocious Judges 244 d New-Orleans 201 Agriculture and Education 411, 448 Aspen Court~ 429 K B Bnnsby Papers 520 Baden-Baden 106 Be up and doing 362 Battle of the Books, a review of a review,... 497 Beranger on the Second Empire 5.33 Books and their Influences 536 C Cyclop dia of American Literature 344 Chronicles of Persepolis, the, 58, 131, 220, 297 378, 456,534 Chronicle of the Month 77, 168, 251, 338 422, 512, 587 Crime of Office, the 114 CivilizationBarharism 239 Charlemont,. . 343 D Doubt Ilivan, the 388 l)eath and Sleep 416 E Kingsleys Poems iss Kansas. the War in 398 Know-Nothingism 486 L Letters from the United States, Miss Mur ray 260 Love in Aheence 70 Life and Works of Goethe 157 Literary Notices 88, 157, 260 Lady of Monteahel, the 212 Loves Confidence 454 Life of Washington, Irving 346 Life of Schasnyl 347 M Memoirs of Catharine II. of Russia 426 Maddalena 57 Music 84, 175, 433 Mormons at home 342 Medes 104 Mystery of Music, the 146 Men and Times of the Revolution 306 Monthly Literary Record 042, 426, 592 Modern Revolutionary History of Irel d,.. 551 N Edgar Allan Poe, the late Next President, the 516 0 0 Granada, to 17 Our Ocein Steam-Marine Great Britain and the United States 263, 349 11 417 P Progress of Baptist Principles 160 Henry VIII. of England, Memoirs of 431 Poets Past, the,., 200 Ilistory of Religions Ideas, Mrs. Child 201 Philosophy of Life, the 218, 296, 377, 455 539 horatio Seymour on the Topography and Public Opinion 223 History of New-York 468 Penitence 455 1 V~ Index. PAGE Roberto ~orsin~ . 71 Richard C~mb~r1and . 389 S Some Account of the Life of Spencer II. Cone Seward Republicanism 19 Stream of Life the 124 S. E. F. to 145 Songs and Ballads of American Revolution,.. 207 Sunli~ht and Shidow, 447 Sectional Know.Nothingism 430 Sparrowgrass Papers 519 T The Union, dangers which beset it.... 1, 89, 177 The Conventionthe Candidates 521 PAGE The 1)evil to Pay 577 The Cloven Foot 151 Transplanted 280 Toilin,. and hoping 429 Theolo,.y of Invenrions 344 Table Talk of Samuel Rogers 325 The Union The Democratic Party The Administration 435 V Vitruvianas 27, 126 W William Wordsworth 231, 868 Widow Bedott Papers 88 Wisdom and Folly 569 Websters Orihography 541 The present Volume contains portraits on steel of the followin,, distinguished individuals: HON. EDSON B. OLDS, OF Onno. GENL. AARON WARD, OF NEW.YOIIK. ItON. JOHN B. WELLER, ov CALIFORNIA. HON. THOS. L. IIARE[S, oc ILLINoIs. HON. REMAN J. REDFJELD, OF New.Yon~. 4 r~o ORYO. 2ID9IDIDIDIDZ (ID (ID TID IDi ID ID ID-

The Union - The Dangers Which Beset It. Number One 1-17

THE UNITED STATES REVIEW. JANUARY, 1856. THE UNIONTHE DANGERS WHICH BESET IT. NUMBER ONE. WHEN storms and tempests howl around and beat upon our Union and our Republican institutions with a fierceness that threatens their entire prostration and ruin, no patriot should repress the expression of his fears, but should pour them out into the public ear, freely and without reserve. No man who can reason from cause to effect, can so far mis- understand the signs of the times, as not to see, that the intense sectional excitement, increasing in bitterness and inveteracy every day, which Abolitionism, aided by Northern Know-Nothingism, has produced, must, unless extinguished by the miraculous interposition of divine providenco, end in the disruption of this mighty Union, and the consequent des- truction of our free institutions and the liberty of our people. It is impossible, too, that this {Tnion can be dissolved, without being followed by the erection, first of several petty Republics then Oligarchies, and~.. then, Kingdoms. The fate of the Grecian Republics and others, warn us of the sad but inevi- table consequence of such an event, At one time, such was our confidence in the virtue and intelligence of the peojple, and the strength of the ties that bound the Union together, 1 2 The Uniion the Dctm~ers which beset it. [Jan., that we believed the most terrific political or fanatical tornado could not prostrate them; the most awful earthquake could not shake, or the severest thunderbolt shiver this Union to pieces. That, however, which Washington foresaw, and against which he warned his countrymen, with the most paternal and anxious solicitudesectional partyismis upon us, in all its most dangerous and fearful aspects, and the fears of our great statesman and patriot, about to be realized. In this excited, dangerous, and threatening condition of pub- lic affairs, which may result in calamities to ~s and to pos- terity, which no pen is adequate to describe, no man should be idle or indifferent, but, without regard to party affinities or party associations, should do all that in him lies to avert them, if upon the true principles of the Constitution, the rights of the States and the equality of citizenship, it can be done. No man, though his country or his party may have wronged him, can stand aloof in this great crisisthis trying hour of the Union, of free institutions, of liberty and of civil and religious freedom. He should lay all his wrongs, all of his resentments~ upon the altar of his countrys good, and employ all his energy and influence to avert the threatened storm. The his- toric pen has recorded for our imitation, many examples of such a noble self-sacrifice, made by patriots and statesmen, whose names illume the pages which record them. Every reflecting and intelligent mind ought to know, every one must see, that in a government extending over an area of country so expansive as ours, with a climate so variant, and interests so diversified, there must be some mutual compro- mises of interest and conciliations of feeling in order to promote the success of the government, and secure other, greater and more important interests. Upon this principle and with such feelings, the Constitution was framed, was rati- fied by the States and approved by the people; and upon this principle and with these feelings, must the government be con- ductedto attain the great end of its establishment. Sectional hostility, sectional hatred, sectional jealousy and sectional par- tyism, are no friends~ to the- Union, the Constitution, free insti- tutions, liberty or prosperity. Beneath their blows, dealt by artful, ambitious, and unscrupulous hands, they must all fall and be buried in a common ruin, the monuments of mad ambi- tion and reckless fanaticism and folly. When we contemplate the structure of our Federal and State Governments, and see in them, their adaptation to secure the power, the wealth, and the prosperity of the Union and 18o6j The Unionthe Danger8 which beset it. 3 the people, so far as national subjects are concerned; the fit- ness of the State Governments for every thing of domestic or local concern; the necessarily, sublimely, high destiny of power, of wealth, of prosperity, of influence and of freedom, which attend our onward march, if the Union and our free institutions be preserved, we can not but execrate the parricidal and traitorous hand that would strike a fatala suicidal blow against such a system. Many of our wisest, most sagacious and most patriotic statesmen, have always feared the slavery question, as the most dangerous and trying to the Union, which traitors and fanatics could agitate; and have tried by every means which the threatening aspect of the case seemed to require, to repress it within safe bounds. And, perhaps, their efforts would have been successful, had not two other elements, each of which is equally, if not more exciting and dangerous than slavery, entered into the controversy, to increase its heat. We ref~r to the proposed disfranchisement and proscription of Roman Catholics and adopted citizens, all blowing from the same thrice-heated furnace. In the Northern States, the Abolition- ists, the Free Soilers and the new order of Know-Nothings, composed, mainly, of Whigs, all working harmoniously toge- ther, are using their strongest and most unremitted exertions to make the question sectional, by proclaiming that slavery is sectional. To meet this tyrannous and dangerous sectional antagonism of the North, the South is driven to present an unbroken front; maintaining, however, a cordial fellowship and alliance with those of the North, who, in defiance of sec- tional considerations and sectional appeals, peril their political fortunes upon the Constitution, and the Union as the Con- stitution made it, and the rights of the South as the Constitu- tion guarantees them. With such a patriotic, intrepid, and devoted band, the South should determine to stand or fall. This controversy having become, and daily becoming more and ~more excited, bitter, and sectional, if becomes a subject of interesting inquiry, why is it so, and where the fault lies. That slavery; religious bigotry and the disfran- chisement of naturalized citizens, are the pretended prominent causes, we can all see; but that ambition, power, and a deter- mined purpose of tyrannical domination by the NQrth,*, over * J~ C. is too sweeping, in using the term NORTH. The assumption that theNorth, as such, is filled with a crusading spirit against the South or its institutions, is false in fact and pernicious in theory; an assumption which does more to endanger the relationships of the two portions of the Union, and promote rear sectionalism of 4 The Un.~ion.- the Da~gers which 1e~et it. [Jan., the rights and interests of the South, to the extent of entire ~ subserviency, is the hidden cause, we have no doubt, as the progress of the controversy will certainly develop. We have no purpose of discussing the slavery question, either ir~its moral or religions aspect. It is here; the iRevolu- tion and the Constitution found it here, and the Federal Government, by the Constitution, has no power to establish or abolish it, or to declare where it shall, or shall not, exist. All its power, upon the subject, is to provide for the reclam- ation of fugitive slaves. When we look to the Constitution as our instrument of imparted powers. and bear in mind, that slavery existed at the very time of its adoption, and find, that no such power is imparted to the Federal Government,it should be decisive, that no such power exists, and that none such was intended to be imparted. If, then, no such power is imparted to the Federal Government, the establishment, abolition, or prohibition of slavery, either in the States or terri- tories, would be a usurpation of power and a palpable violation of the Constitution. The South has never sought, and does not desire the establishment of slavery by law, anywhere. It has only sought its protection where it exists, or shall be established by the States. If we were to enter into a history of the introduction and progress of slavery in this country, we might show some facts reflecting no credit upon the North, taking their present pro- fessed opinions about slavery as the standard of judgment. We might show that their own citizens were the captors, the trans. porters, and dealers in this property. We might show, that at the formation of the Constitution, the five New-England States, those that are now boiling over with rage about slavery, aided by South-Carolina and Georgia, kept open the slave-trade twenty years, while Virginia sought to close it; and that of this twenty years, the Northern ship-owners, ands lave.traders made the most profitable use. From the very formation of the government, to the present hour, there has been a large party in the North, now increased, we fear, to .a majority, opposed to the progress of the South. They seem to have determined to reduce the South to a state feeling and action, than all the mad ranting of the party called Abolitionists. There is an Aboitionpart~, in the North, as there is a Secession party in the South, and the n~imber of foolish and. wicked men in the United States is pretty equally divi~ed between them. To eall the whole North Abolition is about as fair as to call tae whole South Secession; an exceedingly left-handed complinient to the .eenso or virtue of either.FawroR DEMocRATIc REVIEW. 1856.] The Union the Danger8 which beset tt. 5 of provincialism and vassalageall under the pretext of pre- venting the extension of slavery as they call it. This purpose was first strongly exhibited, by their opposition to the acquisi- tion of Louisiana in 1808, of Florida in 1819, and later to the annexation of Texas, and the acquisition of California; and this is the same party, with new adherents, that is no~r harass- ing and oppressing the South, and hunting, down Catholics and naturalized citizens. The first act of positive aggression by the North on the South, was in 1820, in what is called the Missouri coinpro- mise This so-called compromise was in fact a prohibition tQ = every slaveholding State, to carry any of their slaves into any of the territories of the United States north of the State of Missouri, and of the line of 36~ 30, commencing on her west- ern boundary, annexed as a condition of the admission of Mis- souri into the Union, as a State, although, under the Constitu- tion, Missouri had a right to admission, without any such re- strictiona restriction, not upon Missouri, but the citizens of the United States, without discrimination, and upon a territory which was thereafter to be divided into States, each of which would have a right, under the Constitution, to establish slavery, and to demand admission into theUnion, upon terms of perfect equality with the original States. Which could not be, if the question of slavery was closed upon her. This so-called com- promise, then, was void, as being unauthorized by the Consti- tution, and violative of the constitutional rights of those- who were not parties to it. It was an act of unauthorized power and unmitigated tyranny, and is not entitled to be respected or treated as a compromise. Let no man talk of statesmanship, of patriotism, or of good faith who talks about the faith of a mere legislative enactment, founded on a palpable breach of the Con- stitution. By the so-called compromise acts of 185051, and the Kansas-Nebraska bill, this restrictionnot upon Missouri, but upon the citizens of the slaveholding States and the un- born Stateswas removed, and the constitutional rights of the citizens of all the States and of the territories, placed upon that exact footing of equality which the Constitution originally placed them upon. The new ~States formed out of the terri- tories, will have each, for itselg exclusive jurisdiction, to deter- mine this question of slaVery. These are the acts stigmatized, by those very faithful and patriotic Abolitionists, Frec-Soilers, and Know-Nothings of the North, as faithless and perfidious! a faithlessness and perfidiousness that stands upon the Constitution, and accords to every State and every citizen an 6 The Union the Dangers which beset it. [Jan., equality of right and of privilege, secured to them by that in strument. It would be well to glance for a moment at the history of this slavery question in Congress, and see what part these Northern law-abiding, good-faith men acted, commencing with the Miss6uri restriction itself. Upon that question, a majority of the Northern representatives voted against the admission of Missouri, notwithstanding the territorial restriction. Upon the admission of Florida, Arkansas, and the annexation of Texas, the majority of the Northern delegation, princi}~ally Federalist~ and Abolitionists, voted against it, on account of the pro-slavery clauses, or non-prohibition of slavery in their constitutions. While the treaty with Mexico was negotiating, and the acqui- sition of California and New-Mexico were in anticipation, the celebrated, so-called, Wilmot proviso was introduced in these words: Whereas, in the settlement of the difficulties pending be- tween this country and Mexico, territory may be acquired, in which slavery does not exist. And, whereas, Congress, in the organization of a territorial government, at an early period of our political history, ~stablished a principle worthy of imitation in all future time, forbidding the existence of slavery in free territory; therefore, Resolved, That in any territory, which may be acquired from Mexico, over which shall be established territorial government, slavery, or involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crimes, whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, should be for ever prohibited; and that in any act or resolution, establishing such government, a fundamental provision should be inserted to that effect. This resolution, which was a pal- pable violation of the Missouri compromise, the territory to be acquired lying on both sides the compromise line, was sustained, on a motion to lay it on the table, by the whole Northern vote, except 21 Democrats. Again; while the United States Senate were in secret session on the treaty with Mexico, it was proposed by a Northern mem- ber to annex to the treaty, the following article: Provided, That there shall be neither slavery nor involun- tary servitude, in the territories hereby ceded, otherwise than in punishment of crimes, whereof the party shall have been duly convicted For attaching this article to the treaty, there were 15 Northern votesan article which palpably violated the Missouri compromise line, if that was a final compromise line; if not, it palpably violated the Constitution. 1856.] The Union the Dctnqere which 1ie8et it. PT In 1852, Mr. Jackson, of Georgia, in order to test Northern sincerity, as to the finality of the compromise measures of 185051, introduced this resolution: Resolved That we recognize the boundary of the compro- mise of the Constitution, and believe it to be the intention of the people generally, as we hereby declare it to be ours indivi- dually, to abide such compromise, and to sustain the laws ne- cessary to carry them outthe provision for fugitive slaves and the act of the last Congress for that purpose included; and that we deprecate all further agitation of questions growing out of that provision of the late Congress, known as the compro- mise, and of the questions generally connected with the institu- tion of slavery, as unnecessary, useless, and dangerous. Tn this resolution, a fair test of the finality of this compro- mise, which Northern men so falsely and so unblushingly charge the South with having violated, was presented, and what was the result? Sixty-four Northern men declared by their votes that they did not regard it as final, and that they would not abide by it. To all this, may be added the facts, that time after time, from the Missouri compromise to this time, petitions after petitions, legislative resolves after legislative resolves, have been poured into Congress, from the North, seeking a course of legislation utterly at war with every feature of these compromises, and many of their representatives have, over and over, and over again, declared, that these compromises were not binding, and that the North would not abide them. What, then, had the South to do but to take position upon the Consti- tution and there abide? This is what she did do, by the repeal of the Missouri restriction and the Kansas and Nebraska bills. To prove still more conclusively, how little these Northern crusaders against the rights of the South regarded their obliga- tion to abide these compromises, FORTY-FIvE of them voted to repeal the fugitive slave bill in 1852. These facts acquit the South of the charge of faithlessness, and perfidiousness, and fasten them on the Norththat is, that portion of the North, which have determined, and are pursuing with unfalter- ing purpose, the ruin of the South, and those who have made this charge a pretext for rallying under the piratical flag. What do we now see? After the compromise of 185051, which every patriot hoped and believed would stay this dis- quieting, this threatening, this dangerous slavery agitation, and restore that harmony and fraternity of feeling between the North and the South, which their mutual interests and their political relations required. After the Constitution had been 8 The Union the Dangers which beset it. [Jan., restored by the repeal of the Missouri restriction and the Kan- sas-Nebraska bills; after California had been admitted, in faith of the compromise, as a free State; and after the measures of the Democratic party had been approved and indorsed by the people, and the Abolition and Free-Soilers were in rapid retreat; a new party springs up, and enters the field, in a strain of piety, of patriotism, disinterestedness, abhorrence of party dis- tinctions, and love of country, scarcely ever equalled, and never surpassed. But mirabile dictu Ia party which, when you come to poll it, is composed mainly of the old Whig party, Free-Soilers, Abolitionists, and a few Democrats, who, deluded by its extravagant professions, or seduced by the prospect of a more speedy participation in the distribution of the spoils, abandoned their own party. This party, however antagonistical some of its professions maybe~theAbolitionists,isnowmakingcommoncausewith them, in a desperate effort to overthrow the Democratic party, which has planted itself upon the Constitution, determined to maintain it to the last extremity against its combined assailants, or be buried in its ruins~ To give effect to these assaults, break down the Democratic party, and secure the spoils of office, two engines of even force, have been added to the Slavery question; the proscription and persecution of Roman Catholics, and the dis- franchisement of adopted citizens. Appealing, by the first, to the bigotry of all Protestant sects, and by the last, to the selfish- ness of nativism, every bad passion has been stimulated into action; and now anti-slavery fanaticism, religions, bigotry, and native selfishness, are, in united columns, assaulting, with exterminating purpose, the new ranks of the Democracyan assault, which, if successful, will either prostrate and ruin the South, by reducing her to a state of provincialism and entire subjection to the North, or break the Union into fragments. When we look at the Constitution of the United States, we search in vain for any power, either to establish, abolish, pro- hibit, or intermeddle with Slavery, as a system, in the States or in the territories, in any form or shape. The attempt to de- rive authority to prohibit Slavery in the territories, from the power to dispose of and make all needful rules and regulations, respecting the territory or other property belonging to the United States, has been so often made and rejected, that it would be a waste of time to discuss it. Such an authority can not be deduced from it. If it could, it would be in direct con- flict with other powers of the Constitution. If Congress has the power to prohibit Slavery in the Territories, it has the 1856.] The Unr~on the Dangers which beset it. 9 right to establish or abolish it. This deduction from the power to regulate, is just as strong as the deduction of the power to prohibit, and no stronger. This Slavery question being so prominent a cause of the politi- cal agitation and sectional strife of the day, it may not be amiss for the South, the interests of which are so dangerously in- volved, to ascertain the true position of parties upon this ques- tion, in order that they may ascertain, in the hands of which, their rights and interests are best secured. That the Abolition party is boldly, inveterately, and uncompromisingly against the rights of the South, we all know. That the so-called American party, or that part of it which recently assembled at Philadelphia, and published, what they call, a national plat- form, affects to propose to abide the laws, as they now stand, and quiet agitation is also known; but this platform expressly pretermits the expression of any opinion upon the constitutional power of Congress to prohibit Slavery in the Territories, which is a virtual surrender of the whole question; for they had as well attempt to blow down the fortresses of Sebastopol with a rams horn, as to calm agitation, by this mere expression of opinion. But suppose there was virtue enough in this 12th article of this milk-and-water platform, to do any good, if it were national; the inquiry necessarily recursis it national? Is it not known that this article was adopted by the votes of the slaveholding States and New-York, twelve, of the free States voting against it ?* Is it not known, that this party, in every Northern State, has repudiated and scornfully rejected this article, and in its stead, adopted resolutions, breathing the present hostility against the rights of the South, at every point? There are, perhaps, fragments of this 12th-Article party in the city of New- York, in Pennsylvania, and in Ohio, but these fragments are very small. Is it not true, then, that this party is sectional, entertain- ing conflicting views with the Southern section, which timidly declines to stand upon the Constitution, the only secure position.~? We heretofore charged that the Northern Whigs were against the South, upon the vital questions involved in the Slavery subject. They denied it; but the truth of the charges is now manifest, and the Whig party is dissolved. These Americans, as they call themselves, deny that the Northern Americans are hostile to the rights of the Southwhat are the proofs? They, by their own strength, or the aid of the Free-Soilers and Aboli * It is generally not known that twelve of the free States abandoned the Con- vention on aeceunt of its adoption. 10 The Union the Dangers which beset it. [Jan., tionists, have filled every gubernatorial chair with an ultra- Abolitionist or a Free-Soiler, they have sent 113 out of 126 mem- bers to the House of Representatives, rabid Abolitionists and Free-Soilers. Their every legislature has had a majority of the same cast: they have driven from the Senate of the Th S. five pure, able, accomplished, and patriotic Democrats, whose sin was that they sustained the Kansas-Nebraska bills, the Re- peal of the Missouri Restriction, and the Fugitive-Slave bill; and put in their place, the most rabid Abolitionists, and in no instance did they elect or aid in electing a single man, Demo- crat or Whig, who voted for, or whose opinions were favorable to the Kansas-Nebraska bills and the Repeal of the Missouri Restrictionbut, hunted them down with all the ferocity and vindictiveness of the insatiate Abolitionists. Between the Americans, North and South, there seems to be great har- mony of purpose as to one thing, and that is the overthrow of the Democratic party, but no harmony of principle or action upon the Slavery question. The Democratic party is the only national party now in ex- istence, the only party that has maintained, and is main- taining, in good faith, the true principles of the Constitution, upon the Slavery question. it was the Democratic party, mainly, that resisted the Missouri Restrictionthat annexed Texasacquired New Mexico and Californiapassed the Fugi- tive-Slave lawpassed the Utah, Kansas, and Nebraska bills, and repealed the Missouri Restriction; and has now staked its existence upon the true constitutional issue, that the Federal Government has no power to interfere with the subject of Slav- ery in the States or in the Territories, in any form except to provide for the reclamation of fugitive slaves. Non interven- tion is the motto inscribed upon its flag. This is the whole Southern ground, and why should any Southern man unite with this coalition of Abolitionists, Free-Soilers, Americans~~ and spoilsmen, in overthrowing the Democratic party, when that party is engaged in a most desperate conflict, in defense of the dearest rights and most important interest~ of the South? The Democratic party, though in a minority in the recent elec- tions in the free States, in every State, except Massachusetts, Vermont, and New-York, presented a most formidable array one sufficient to justify the confident expectation that in the next elections, they will triumph and preserve the Constitution and the Union, if the South be true to itself. It is true that many who call themselves Democrats were Abolitionists and Free-Soilers, but they have abandoned the ranks of the Demo- 1856.] The 1iJnion~ the Dangers which beset it. :1.1 cratic party and are now acting with this new coiilition. There is now a national Democratic p arty in the North, agreeing with the Democratic party in the South, in which there can not be found an Abolitionist, a Free-Soiler, a Whig, a Federalist, or a Know-Nothing. Of all these it is thoroughly purged, and pre- sents that sublimest of all spectacles in party warfarea party foregoing all personal considerations and sacrificing itself to principle. But these men, our very devoutly religious, virtu- ously country-loving, and overfiowingly patriotic Americans of the South can not sustain. But they can act in concert with those, who domineer over, and own their purpose to invade and trample under foot the rights of the South. We would most respectfully and fraternally inquire if this Southern American party is not taking counsel of their former prejudices against the Democratic party, and not of their calm, dispassion- ate, and patriotic convictions of truth. Do they not know, can they be so blind as not to see that, with the aid of this Northern Democratic party, we may serve the Constitution and the Union, and without it, both are lost? Do they not know, that the South, of itself, is not strong enough? Why, then, this suicidal policy? But the Northern branch of this newly-organized American party was not content to risk their success upon the issues, which Abolitionism and Free-Soilism had made with the Demo- cracy; they contributed the two new and formidable elements above referred to, religious bigotry and selfish nativism. Thereby appealing to, and exciting afresh, the dying prejudices of Protestant Christians against Roman Catholics, and native- born against adopted citizens. We will briefly advert to these elements. That religion is a spiritual principle, not of man, but of God, we suppose no one will deny. That it is God, and not man, or an association of men, that can impart a spirit of religion to the human soul, is, we suppose, equally true. It must be con- ceded, then, that every man is responsible individually to God, and not to government, or his fellow-men, for the truth or falsehood of his religious opinions. Government can ito.t as- sume the responsibility of an individuals false opinions about religion, nor can the individual throw the responsibility of his error upon the government. Government, then ought not to undertake to make, or unmake, religious creeds, for any man, and proscribe him for non-conformity. This whole matter of religion, is a matter entirely between God and man, and is a matter which God himself keeps under his own supervision 12 The Union the Dangers which leset it. [Jan., and control. Experience has proved beyond all doubt, that truth when unfettered, is the most successful antagonist to er- ror, and by it many a system of error in religion, morality, politics, and philosophy has been exposed and corrected. Religion being true, created by the Spirit of the Almighty, it is amply sufficient to overcome any erroneous creeds, or false systems, particularly in a country where there is freedom of speech, and of the press. Every connection between the Gov- ernment and the Church, in any age, has never failed to cor- rupt the Church and strengthen the power of the Government. Every attempt to co~3rce religious opinion, has resulted in re- tarding the progress of Christianity. But why need I discuss this question? The memorable and immortal Virginia statute of religious freedom, has presented the arguments of this question with a power and energy, an eloquence, a conclusiveness, which I can not pretend to imitate. The sages and patriots of the revolu- tion, who formed the Constitution, in full view of all the corrup- tion which the connection between Church and State in the old world, and of all the tyrannical proscriptions, devastating wars, bloody persecutions, and cruel tortures to which it had and appreciating in all its force,the great and~ rise, of religious freedom sense, cut it off comprehensive ,in its most incomparable value from all connection with the government, by the following provision: But no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust, under the United States. The proscription, which the American party proposes to effect, by combination against Catholics native-born as well as foreign, is, in letter and in spirit, at war with this provision, and results in thisthat the Constitution ought to be amended and this provision struck out, or this at- tempt, by secret combination and profane oaths to subvert it, frowned down. Two of the States preceding, and almost every other State in the Union, after the revolution, approving this fundamental principle of religious freedom, adopted and in- corporated it into their constitutions. From that time to this, pure and undefiled religion h~s spread with unparalleled ra- pidity; numerous sects have sprung up, rivalling and emulat- ing each other, so as to foreclose all chances of supremacy in either. Bible, tract, and missionary societies, have multiplied to an almost indefinite extent, and although Catholicism has increased, Protestantism has increased in a five-fold ratio, until now the Protestant membership exceeds the Catholic 6 to 1. The ministry, 20 to 1. The churches, 30 to 1; and the popula- tion attending public worship, 14 to 1. Thus demonstrating 1856.] 71w Union the Danger8 which leset it. 13 most conclusively, that with the Bible, the press, the pulpit, and the freedom of speech, Protestantism has nothing to fear from Catholicism. Even in monarchical Europe, somewhat liberalized, Catholicism is waning, and Protestantism is rising. Here, where the conscience is free, and religion unconnected with the civil Government, Protestantism is triumphant, and Catholicism itself becoming more spiritual. Judging of the future by the past, ther~ is no reality in these pretended fears of the Pope. To justify this movement of the American party, it will not do to hunt up Roman Catholicism, from the musty records of the seventeenth century, for the history of its corruptions and enormities, while in its meretricious connection with the des- potic Governments of Europefor in that search, the eye could not fail to fall on the like corruptions and enormities of Protestantism, from the same cause. There is nothing in the political history of either Catholicism or Protestantism, while in the pursuit of temporal power, attractive to the eye of an American freeman, or a pure religiomst. But this American policy is very artful, it will not take its ground against religions freedom boldly; on the contrary, re- ligious freedom and religious toleration, is the theme of their song; the temporal power of the Pope, is what they are so much alarmed abouta temporal power, which, as the Irish- man would say, has been advancing backwards rapidly for fifty years. Well, now, what is the temporal power of the Pope, which is so frightful and alarming to these, our watchful and vigilant political nurslings? This frightful Pope, whose power every petty prince in Europe laughs to scoj~n, is temporal prince of 17,000 square miles in Italy, not a third the size of the State of Virginia, with subjects numbering about 2,600,000, and they so imbued with the spirit of liberty, that the Pope is compelled to employ French and Austrian bayonets to keep them in subjection. His ecclesiastical power as head of the Church, imparts to him no temporal power, beyond his own irftmediate dominion, as proved by the fact, that he is in the midst of powerful Governments, none of which acknowledge his tem- poral power, or yield any obedience to his authority. They treat him as they do all foreign powers. What temporal power he claims, or in what way he ever attempted to control or in- termeddle with the temporal (for it has no ecclesiastical) af- fairs of this Government, we have yet to learn; for very few Catholics have ever been in the councils of the country, federal or State, certainly not in sufficient numbers to subvert the Goy 14 The Unim the Danger8 which 1~e8et it. [Jan., eminent, establish Catholicism, or subject us to the authority of the Pope. But, say the new-fledged Americans, the Catholics of the United States owe a temporal allegiance to the Pope, para- mount to, and in conflict with, their allegiance to the Govern- ment of the United States. This charge has been the hobby of bigots and tyrants for a great many years, and was the prolific source of all the bitter persecutions and intolerant proseriptions and disabilities with which the Catholics of Eng- land and Ireland were pursued for so many years, and which did not entirely cease until 1825. This charge was always untrue, and is now untrue, and there is no apology for its de- claration and industrious propagation at this time. Where, and in what of the authentic records of the Church is it to be found, whether in its ritual, its litany, its articles of faith, or in its moral discipline? In the Faith of Catholics, page 175, extracted from a book published in England in 1680, is found the following: Nor do Catholics, as Catholics, believe that the Pope has any direct or indirect authority over the temporal concerns of States, or the jurisdiction of Princes. Hence, should the Pope pretend to absolve or dispense His Majestys subjects from their allegiance on accout of heresy or schism, such dispensa- tion they would view as frivolous and null. To the doctrine of this proposition a general assent is given by the Catholic teachers. About the close of the last century, William Pitt, then prime minister of England, with a view of doing an act of justice to the ~Catholics, proposed interrogatories, to the faculty of divin- in the six principal and most celebrated Catholic theological universities of Europe, each of which promptly and unequivo- cally denied the existence of any civil allegiance to the Pope. The answering universities were those of Paris, Douay, Lou- vaine, Alcala, Salamanca, and Yalladolid. In M4lnors End of Controversy, page 367, published in 1801, it is said, after a long able review of this question, It is not then, the faith of this Church, that the Pope has any civil or temporal supremacy, by virtue of which he can de- pose princes or give or take away the property of other per- sons out of his own domains for even the incarnate Son of God, from whom he derives tAe supremacy which he possesses, did not claim here upon earth any right of the above-mentioned kind; on the contrary, he positively declared that his king- dom is not of this world. Hence the Catholics of both our 1856.] fIihe Un~io~ ~ the Dangers which beset it. 15 islands, have, without impeachment even from Rome, denied upon oath (the oath of allegiance) that the Pope has any civil jurisdiction, power, superiority, or prc~5minence, directly or indirectly, within this realm. In 1825 the Irish Bishops were summoned before a commit- tee of the British House of Commons. Amongst themselves they selected the most eminent and learned of their body to represent them. Being apprised of the subjects of the inquiry, they had ample time to examine and weigh and duly consider them. Their answers are briefly cited: Doctor Doyle is asked: Can the Pope absolve the kings subjects from their alle- giance ? A. No. Q. Is it in his power to deprive the king of his kingdom ? A. It is not, indeed. Q. Can he by any means excuse a Catholic from his alle- giance ? A. Most undoubtedly not. Q. Is the claim some Popes have set up to temporal author- ity opposed to Scripture and tradition ? A. IN MY OPINION, IT IS OPPOSED TO BOIH. The Right Rev. Dr. Curtis, Archbishop of Armagh, in the same examination and in answer to the same question, says: I do not think it very conformable to it. I do not say exactly it is oppossed to it; but certainly he has received no such power from Christ. Doctor Murray, Archbishop of Dublin: The Popes authority is wholly confined to a spiritual authority, according to the words of our Saviour, My king. dom is not of this world. His spiritual power does not allow him to dethrone kings or absolve their subjects from the alle- giance due to them; and any attempt of that kind I would consider contrary to Scripture and tradition. Dr. Kelly, Archbishop oC Tuam: It never was admitted as a doctrine of the Catholic Church that the Pope had temporal authority outside his own dommn- ions. In 1852, a committee was appointed to inquire into the orthodoxy of the Maynooth College in Ireland, who issued their report. They examined the professors, and propounded the same questions that were propounded to the bishops in 1825, above referred to. The answer of Dr. OHanlon, which is, in substance, the answer of all, reads thus: 16 The Umiom the Danger8 which beset it. Jan., With regard to the first doctrine of Gallican liberties, is it not a question in dispute among iRoman Catholics? It is, though we may regard the opinion which attributes either direct or indirect temporal power to the Pope or to the Church as being almost obsolete. The only writers who have attempted to revive it in modern times are Dr. Brownson, a recent con- vert to Catholicity, and an editor of an American Review, and the famous Lamennais, who was condemned by the Holy See, for the extravagance and eccentricity of certain doctrines which he held. I might here observe that in a document addressed from Rome, by Cardinal Antonelli, to the Irish Catholic Pre- lates, so early as 1791, it is expressly affirmed that the Holy See, regards that man as a calumniator,who imputes to it the tenet, that an oath to kings separated from the Catholic com- munion, can be violated, or that it is lawful for the Bishop of Rome (the Pope) to invade their rights and dominions. Pope Gregory XVI., also, not only in his evangelical letter of 1832, but in his reply to the declaration of the Prussian Government in 1838, lays down principles which appear to me to be irre- concilable with the opinion which invests the Pope or the Church with direct or indirect temporal authority. He adopts the doctrine of Tertullian, and some others of the early fathers, that no cause whatever can justify the deposition or dethrone- ment of a king, and that the people should patiently endure every sort of tyranny and oppression rather than have re- course to so violent and dangerous a remedy. This doctrine is as incompatible with the deposing power of the Pope as it is repugnant to the ideas of the political writers of these coun- b tries. Richard Watson, one of the very ablest, most learned, and most pious of the Wesleyan Methodists of England, and who would compare favorably with any divine of any church, in his Theological Dictionary, p. 824, thus defines the temporal power of the Pope. Roman Catholics, or members of the Church of Rome, otherwise called Papists, from the Pope being considered by them as the supreme head of the universal Church, the successor of St. Peter, and the fountain of theological truth and ecclesi- astical honors. He keeps his court in great state at the palace of the Vatican, and is attended by seventy cardinals as his privy councillors, in imitation of the seventy disciples of our Lord. The Popes authority in other kingdoms is merely spiritual, but in Italy he is a temporal sovereign. Louis XVIII. and the allies having in 1814 restored him to his throne, and 1856.] To Granada. Ft to those temporalities of which he was deprived by Bonaparte and the French revolution. The result of all these inquiries and this controversy has been, that all the proscriptions and disabilities theretofore im- posed upon CathoIi~ were removed in 1825, in Great Britain and Ireland, and they now enjoy all the franchises and privi- leges of other subjects. In our second number we shall show from the record the falsehood of the assumptions of this hybrid American party with regard to the Catholic citizens of the United States, and the hollowness of the pretense by which so many well-meaning but weak-minded people have been deluded. TO GRANADA. TRAYSLATEI) FOR THE DEMOCRATIC REYIEW~ PROM THE SPAHISH, BY C~ A. W. IN that bright vale, where Ows waters glide And Xeriels waves receive the sparkling tide, Girt by the gardens and the groves that lie In rich luxuriance neath a southern sky, Reposing there in majesty serene, Thy beauty, stately Granada, is seen; Thou shinest there, mid natures works sublime, The peerless Houri of a western clime. Oh! who could seek, with toil and exiles pain, Honor and wealth in distant climes to gain, And scorn the loveliness of scenes like these Wealth without toil, and innocence with ease? Oh! neither gold, the sages fame, nor power, The short and fleeti~ig phantoms of an hour, Could match a life like Ows long summers day, Dreamed amid thy fairy palaces away. Through summers burning suns the cool breeze blows From thy Sierras everlasting snows; And cloud on cloud, in gorgeous splendor rolled, Adorn thy sky with purple and with gold. 2

C. A. W. W., C. A. To Granada. Translated for the Democratic Review, from the Spanish 17-19

1856.] To Granada. Ft to those temporalities of which he was deprived by Bonaparte and the French revolution. The result of all these inquiries and this controversy has been, that all the proscriptions and disabilities theretofore im- posed upon CathoIi~ were removed in 1825, in Great Britain and Ireland, and they now enjoy all the franchises and privi- leges of other subjects. In our second number we shall show from the record the falsehood of the assumptions of this hybrid American party with regard to the Catholic citizens of the United States, and the hollowness of the pretense by which so many well-meaning but weak-minded people have been deluded. TO GRANADA. TRAYSLATEI) FOR THE DEMOCRATIC REYIEW~ PROM THE SPAHISH, BY C~ A. W. IN that bright vale, where Ows waters glide And Xeriels waves receive the sparkling tide, Girt by the gardens and the groves that lie In rich luxuriance neath a southern sky, Reposing there in majesty serene, Thy beauty, stately Granada, is seen; Thou shinest there, mid natures works sublime, The peerless Houri of a western clime. Oh! who could seek, with toil and exiles pain, Honor and wealth in distant climes to gain, And scorn the loveliness of scenes like these Wealth without toil, and innocence with ease? Oh! neither gold, the sages fame, nor power, The short and fleeti~ig phantoms of an hour, Could match a life like Ows long summers day, Dreamed amid thy fairy palaces away. Through summers burning suns the cool breeze blows From thy Sierras everlasting snows; And cloud on cloud, in gorgeous splendor rolled, Adorn thy sky with purple and with gold. 2 18 [fo Granada. The rose, the jesmine, and the orange flower, Spread their bright hue oer garden and oer bower, And in the shadowy grove, or marble hail, The coal streams murmur and the fountains falL The west wind sighing bends the lily pale, And spreads its fragrance oer the blooming vale; While from the Aihambras palace-bowers i~ heard The plaintive music of the evening bird.~ Oh! when the silver moon its glittering beams Casts on thy ancient towers and fountain streams, No fairer sight was seen of mortal eyes Since our first parents walked in Paradise. Who then could see thee, Granada, nor feel A patriots love, a patriots burning zeal; Who would not strive for thee till hope was oer, And with despairing grief their loss deplore, When adver~e fate the haughty Moor brought low, When passed his glory to a Christian foe; Though doomed to roam at fortunes fickle will, Thy memory, Granada, is with him still. And on that fatal day,w~lren all pr~ed vain, What wild laments arose upon thy plain! But longer, wilder did the chorus swell, When thy sad monarch wept his last farewell. And still on Africs lone desert strand The Moorish sentinel will musing stand; While gazing fondly oer the distant main, He seeks with longing eyes thy towers in vain~ And when from Africs coast the storm, set free, Sweeps in fierce tumult over land and sea, And the wild wind, with sudden rise and fall, Moans through the Alhambra~s wide and lonely hail, It seems to sound the sad larkieiit of those Who, forced to fly before their Christian foes, Still mourn; in climes beyond the swelling sea, The loss of glory, Granada, and thee. [Jai., 1856.] Seward.Republiean1s8m. 19 SEWARD-REPUBLIOAMSM. Qui~y first. Whats in a name? Sometimes, look you, there may be a whole history. Trench in his late work on the Study of Words, argues to prove that words are facts and things in the progressive history of nations. Now a name is a word, and if words be thingstheres something in a name. Query second. Why will men persist in stealing the livery of heaven to serve the devil in? It never deceives for a great while. At the first, we grant you, the similitude of grace beguiles the simple-hearted; but there is always a faint odor of brimstone about the gentleman inside, contracted from too intimate acquaintance with the distinguished person mentioned in the latter member of the query, which betrays them in the long run. Two queries which r~aturaUy introduce to the attention of the unbiased and unsophisticated reader the portentous com- bination of substantives at the head of this article. Will any young A~ierican, whose ideas are ordinarily clear, and whose knowledge of Lindley Murray is what is commonly called goodoblige us by parsing the sentence Seward-Re- publicanism ? We premise that the compound is none of our making. The liberty is one we should nev~er dream of taking with honest Yankee English. Speak of the Kings English, and it would be quite a natural arrangement, but to handle republicanEnglish in that way, as one might saywithout glovesheaven save the mark! Our young American friend meantime has come at it. From the maunci of his parsing, we shrewdly suspect the young rogue of a tendency to Democracy. He says Seward, im- proper noun substantive, twistiflcd. into an adjective for the purpose of governing the proper noun Republicanism, for the benefit of the improper noun, and the incalculable loss and damage of the proper noun. A parlous boy: theres the making of a member of Congress in that boy. We beg the potential voters pardon. We were thinking of the time when members of Congress wereeh?

S. W. C. C., S. W. Seward-Republicanism 19-27

1856.] Seward.Republiean1s8m. 19 SEWARD-REPUBLIOAMSM. Qui~y first. Whats in a name? Sometimes, look you, there may be a whole history. Trench in his late work on the Study of Words, argues to prove that words are facts and things in the progressive history of nations. Now a name is a word, and if words be thingstheres something in a name. Query second. Why will men persist in stealing the livery of heaven to serve the devil in? It never deceives for a great while. At the first, we grant you, the similitude of grace beguiles the simple-hearted; but there is always a faint odor of brimstone about the gentleman inside, contracted from too intimate acquaintance with the distinguished person mentioned in the latter member of the query, which betrays them in the long run. Two queries which r~aturaUy introduce to the attention of the unbiased and unsophisticated reader the portentous com- bination of substantives at the head of this article. Will any young A~ierican, whose ideas are ordinarily clear, and whose knowledge of Lindley Murray is what is commonly called goodoblige us by parsing the sentence Seward-Re- publicanism ? We premise that the compound is none of our making. The liberty is one we should nev~er dream of taking with honest Yankee English. Speak of the Kings English, and it would be quite a natural arrangement, but to handle republicanEnglish in that way, as one might saywithout glovesheaven save the mark! Our young American friend meantime has come at it. From the maunci of his parsing, we shrewdly suspect the young rogue of a tendency to Democracy. He says Seward, im- proper noun substantive, twistiflcd. into an adjective for the purpose of governing the proper noun Republicanism, for the benefit of the improper noun, and the incalculable loss and damage of the proper noun. A parlous boy: theres the making of a member of Congress in that boy. We beg the potential voters pardon. We were thinking of the time when members of Congress wereeh? 20 Seward-Republicanhi8m. [Jan., Is there such a word as honest in the language now-a-days? Seward-Republicanism, then, is Republicanism and Win. H. Seward, in one and the same person. A monstrous combina- tion. Convince us that it is practicable, and the Centaur and Proteus will be fabulous no longer. The wildest extravagances of heathen mythology will be common-place realities. The many-headed and many-handed Vishnu and Gaudama shall walk amongst us unnoticed. Your Hyppogriff shall caracole in our streets, and the Marids of the genii cut and come again, at their pleasure, without startling the most nervous fine lady from her propriety. And yet the term has become one descriptive of a fact, or state of facts, and is in every bodys mouth. It has given name to a party, and it is A BID FOR THE PRESIDENCY! What fact, or state of facts is it descriptive of; and to what kind of a party has it given a name? These are the questions the solution of which we are about to seek. In seeking a definition of Republicanism, we need not be at the pains to travel back to Greece nor Rome. To Italy or France our readers would thank us little for going in search of any political definition the terms of which were to be applied on this side the Atlantic. Let us content ourselves then with the general definition of a republic; and the specific one of American Republicanism. Facciolati defines a Republic to be res communis et publicct civium una viventium. Dr. John- son A state in which the power is lodged in more than one. A very lame definition. According to the i4ea of Cicero, that is the best-constituted Republic into which the force of royalty, the wisdom of aristocracy, and the honesty of the people enter as components.Vide his De. Rep. Liber 1, c. 29. Jikse optime constitutam rempublicam, quce ex tribus generibus illis, regal-i, optimo, et populari, sit rnodic confusa. An opinion clearly shared by the framers of our Constitution, since they added to the royal prerogative of the veto power, vested in the President, the aristocratic features of Senators superior in dignity and length of office to their co-legislators, and Judges appointed for life, or during good behavior. We might add the definitions of Montesquien, and, indeed, of almost all other publicists and writers upon political ethics. But, there is in all of them a certain vagueness and crudity, arising from the fact, that they are fetched from a region of possibili- ties, dimly conceived by their authors, but never from a reality with which they have had actual contact. Nor is this 1856.] & waRt~puIlioani8m. 21 strange, since the United States is the only fact of pure repub- lican government which has yet existed in the world. Our experience, therefore, must give the world a clearer and more comprehensive definition than it has yet learned. The American idea of a Repu~lic,derived from a daily con- sciousness of the reality of its existence and effect, is that of a body politic or political society of men, the government whereof is lodged in the hands of representatives chosen by the people and directly responsible to the people for the faith- ful discharge of the trust committed to them. This idea, sub- lime in its simplicity, pervades the entire govermental organ- isrn of the confederacy. In the distribution of its parts, and the necessary conditions of its action, the government becomes more or less complex. But, it is only complex in appearance, not in reality. The duties with which each agent is charged may be different, and so the whole appear complex; but, the principle which controls one controls all, and that is, direct responsibility to the People for the charge committed to any, an d its necessary surrender into the hands of the people at the expiration of a fixed term. Hence, its simplicity. Thus, the note of the encyclopedist is directly descriptive of our political condition. The word republic is sometimes under- stood to be equivalent to democracy, and the word republican is considered as equivalent to democrat. The United States are a Democratic Republic. Hence, the Democratic party proper has, time out of mind, appropriated and had tacitly conceded to it as its peculiar property the term Republican. Under that name it has won its victories, consolidated and reconciled the diverse interests, of a country, vast and varied in its conditions of life society and avocation, and, finally, imposed all its distinctive principles npon the government as laws of existence. It divorced Bank and State. It prevented the Federal Government from becoming a common contractor for the building of roads and bridges, under the pleasing title of Internal Improvements. It created a Specie Currency, by a system of sub-treasuries. It conquered free trade, and des- troyed the idea of govermental protection of class interests. It rescued the public lands from State or individual specula- tion, and it now stands the only barrier between the Union and the hybrid crew of many-colored fanatics who aim to des- ~neby one its positions have been yielded t~ it by its oppo- nents. One by one its principles have been conceded as laws 22 & ward-R~pu1licaniem. [Jan., of national existence, and those most clamorous against them compelled to acquiesce, and admit their own opposing systems to be obsolete ideas. But let us not fall into the stupid mistake of believing that this retreat is more honest than the Parthians. Watch them as they fly, and you will see that they merely remove to a safe distance from the foe they fear, and then, with an undying hatred, fit another arrow to their bow. Defeated, therefore, on all subsidiary questions, it is to the grand issue they now direct themselves, and their final arrow is hurled against the Union itself. Therefore, we have selected Mr. Senator Seward as the object to which we would direct the watchful attention of every lover of his country, since it is to his bow that this fatal arrow of disunion is now fitted, and by his arm we must expec4 it to be directed without remorse or pity. A desperate aspirant for the Presidency, governed always by the Jesuitical rule, that the end sanctities the means. His soliloquy is that of the crook-back Dickon Will men not say that to possess the crown, Nor things divine, nor human, barred my way? Well, let themthey cant but say Ihad it I was not foot as well as villaia. His ambition despairing of a legitimate issue, is willing to ruin that it may rule. But shall William H. Seward drive the people of America into the gloomy and perilous scenes to which disunion would conduct them? When so many greater have failed shall he succeed? Shall pigmies achieve what giants have labored for in vain? lilt can not be believed. But he is a cunning ape, and his fantastic tricks before high heaven have a deep purpose in them. Observe, we do not do the people of the United States the injustice to affect that it is a great or wise man against whose purposes they must be on their guard. It is a more dangerous enemy ~tillit is a cun- ning and wicked man of mean ambition and reckless charac- ter; a man too narr& w to be controlled by large ideas, too sel- fish to conceive a great and statesmanlike designwho threat- ens their peace and safety. This man has read the history of the Democratic party closely. He knows the power of a word as a popular synibol; he remembers that Democratic republi- canism has stirred the heroic sentiments of liberty and equal rights in a thousand bosoms, by the very ring and echo of its 1856.1 & wa~d~R~puZtica~8m. 23 name; that by the charm of that true symbolism, it has drawn those thousands, whilst yet ignorant, into its school, and there educated them into wise and patriotic citizens, and lovers of their whole country. He knows all this, and hating all it means, he would yet steal the symbol itself, and prostituting it to the vile uses of the agitator, the sectionalist, the socialist, the abolitionist, and all his motley crew of landless resolutes, whom their oer cloyed country is ready to vomit forthuse it as the means of destroying all it symbolizes; Standing thus, scowling in baffled hate at the principle which has so long defied him, yet nursing in his bosom. the design of tricking from it its own weapons i.nd plunging them in its bosom, we can conceive of no apter representative, than this man for Eleazar, in Old Marlowes Tragedy of Lusts Dominion, when he exclaims: Come, purple ~rillany, Sit like a robe imperial on my back; That, under thee, I closelier may contrive My vengeance I It is a vengeance which he seeks for baffled hopes and dis- appointed, schemes. How shall it be achieved? Clearly the old name of Whig will do nothing to help him. It has be- come odious. That name so holy once; around which, in the infancy of the Republic, the fondest affection and proudest memories of tb~e ifatriot clung, as to something inestimably precious; the name which summoned up. at once, pictures of heroic resistance to BrItish tyranny, and calm, intrej~id)vindica- tion of the rights of freemena name linked with every thing which adorned and sanctified our struggle for independence w~s appropriated by gentlemen of Mr. Sewards kidney; it be- came identified with the purposes of a party, unremittingly hostile to the true interests of their countrya party, whose existence was one long lingering defeat, and whose history is written in the unvarying success of its oppohentsand in a few years, the very name itself fairly stunk in the nostri1~ of the people. Sauve qui pent, became the giotto of all who bore it, and yon ma~v well believe Mr. Senator Seward does not mean to be the hindmost. Next holiest in the minds, andlsacred in the hearts of Amen- cans, is the wordRepublican. But have we not heard of a cut-purse of the empire and the rule : That from the shelf; the precious diadem stole, And put it in his pocket I 24 & ward4?~publican~i8m. [Jan., Twas so in Denmark: and, look you, how apt our modem political Claudius, is to follow in the footsteps of his Danish prototype. He will have the precious diadem of the Demo- cracyRepublicanismin his pocket, before your wizard can say, hey! presto! change! Thus indeed, we may cGnsider the Whig party as re-baptized, and the child, with a retrospective irony, which is perfectly Dantesque in its immensity, is called Republicanism.. The solemn farce has been played; the ceremony is complete: verily complete, for it has been baptized, at the last election in the State of New-York, in the identical waters wherein its aged parent Whiggery was drowned, or se defendendo drowned himselfthe waters of defeat. Could any thing be more mournfully ludicrous than this strange jumbling of birth and burial? A band of spcetres paler than those which beleaguered the walls of Praguethe ancient but defunct Whig partyswathed in the cerements, and rustling in the gloomy pageantry of the grave, stand wildly tossing their fieshless arms, and grinning and jabbering with their bare and ghastly jaws, around the baptismal font of the last of the Federal line. Unhappy babe! They dare not even give it its fathers name. A bill of attainder is filed against him in the high court of the people. His estates are confiscatedfor he had devastated and overthrown cot and castle and corn field, to make a royal park of Protection for his delight. His heir inherits nothing but hatred and con- tempt. It will never do to give him his fathers name. But the high-priest of the old dispensation has an inspi,ration. Let us call the child by the name the people love; but when he is old enough we will teach him his own name and what a store of hate he has laid up, against these same people ~ho have driven his fathers out from amongst them. So shall he grow strong, and cunning in safety, and bide his time, and revenge us when it comes: Let us call him Republicanism! And so they baptized him, and then went back to their own place, where Milton says, ice performs the effect of fire. It will not do therefore, for any to delude themselves with the idea, that the late and ignominious defeat of Black Repub- licanism in this State concludes the tragedy. It is merelyb the first act. There be yet four to come, and the name of the au- thor upon the title-page assures us that no trick, surprise, nor strong situation, within the range of political melo-drama will be omitted. Mr. Author and Manager Seward, has already rung~~ in the music. Presently we shall have the gas~~ 1856.1 & ward-J?epubticani~sm. 25 turned on, and a little more light upon the subject. Another touch of the bell, and the curtain rises upon the drama of Black Republicanism. You fancy, perhaps, that the hero is enacted by Toussaint LOuverture. Not a bit of it. William H. Seward is the star, and the play is cast with all the strength of a motley company. No eye hath seen such scare-crows. Abolitionism; Fourierism; Socialism; Free-Soilism; Free- Lovism, and all the Isms, mouth, and strut, and rant, and 0 er do Termagant to a delighted audience of saints and tabbies; whilst meekly ranged on either side the stage, like Bombastes army, the tattered remnants of the Whig party stand agape, and swear this God doth speak brave words. And it is this forlorn, forsaken crew of knavish fools, and foob ish knaves who are to disturb our quiet, and make night hideous with threats of disunion! Ye Gods it doth amaze us. When John C. Calhoun stood up and spoke such threats, mad and foolish though he was, there was a melancholy gran- deur about the man which warded hate aside, and turned our harshest thoughts into a gentle pity. It seemed a sad, dis- heartening thing, to see a great and honest man a monomaniac on the subject of slavery, and in his paroxysms tearing the laurel from his own brow, dashing down his own statue from its niche in the national galleryand, refusing to be im- mortal, narrow his mind to the limits of a single State, and the plaudits of its venal press. But when William H. Seward stands up to do the same thing, we are irresistibly reminded of Jonathan Wild attempting the character of Coriolanus. The first is a grand old gloomy portrait by Salvator Rosa; the last a grotesque etching of Tony Johannot. But with the ludicrous and repulsive in the last picture mingles also something of the terrible. The craft of the man supplies the place of knowledge, and his patient industry in evil-doing that of ~enius. Thus, in organizing a new party from the scattered remnants of the old regular whig army, he has imitated Fra Moriale, Conrad Lando, and Sir John Hawkwood, and recruited his band of free lances with every desperate adventurer, ruined gamester, or discharged ~rvant, who would wear his livery. Added to these, the class of insane persons popularly known as Ism-ites, absurd reasoners but desperate fighters, and we have the whole material, moral and physical, of the new Black Republican party. The tactics of this party are the ordinary tacties of Condot- tieri. Living upon the spoil of honest men, their harvest must 26 & ward-R~pu~ieanioni. [Jan., be reaped in a time of civil turmoil and confusion. State, there. fore, must be set against state, and community against commu- nity. Geographical lines must be made to bound rivalries, and divide neighbors into hostile encampments. Distrust, envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness, must be insidiously sown in hearts once bound together by the strong ties of con- sanguinity or of affection. Numberless petty broils, and sec- tional wars must distract attention, and afford pay and plunder for the free lances of Black Republican chivalry. The South must be taught to believe the North, from Mason & Dixons to the Canada line, little better than a grand abolition confed- eracy; and the I~Torth goaded with the idea that Southern chivalry is perpetually loading its revolver or sharpening its bowie-knife for the benevolent purpose of cutting its throat or blowing out its brains at the first convenient opportunity. Is the picture ovetd~rawn? The people of the United States know that it is not. Are the meang and methods of the arch-agitator fairly set forth by us? Every Northern man knows that they are. And who is~ there that jsig~6ran~. ef~ the purpose of it all; who so fondly ignorant or confiding as to believe either Wil- liam H. Seward or his party honest in their love of the Negro? Submit the matter to any test that human ingenuity can de- vise,: and; our life: up6n it, the l~ d~st-~earted planter between Maryland and Texas has more true tenderness for the bodies and souls of his slaves; will do more unselfish acts for their benefit, and conduct himself towards them with a more manly and Christian spirit of sympathy and affection than could be gathered out of the souls of all the ranting Black Republicans together. How grandly beautiful, ~with what a holy magnifi- cence, above the discordant clamor of these political birds of ill omen, these bats and o~ls, the burden of whose boding scream is ever the filthy word Disunion, rise the appealing tones of Madison: Hearken~iot t6 the unnatural voice, which teIls~ you that the people of America, knit together :a~ they are by so many chords. of aftection,~ can no longer live together as members of the sam& f~mily; can no longer continue the mutual guardians of their mutual happiness; qan no longer be fellow-citizens of one great, respectable, and flourishing empire. No, my countryr~en, shut your ears against this unhallowed: language. Sh~it your hq~arts against the poison which it con~ veys. The kindred b16& d which flows in. the veins of Ameri- can citizens, the mingled blood which they have shed in de 1856.] Vi& uvianae. 27 fense of their sacred rights, consecrate their union, and excite horror at the idea of their becoming aliens, rivals, enemies. And if novelties are to be shunned, believe me, the most alarming of all novelties, the most wild of all projects~ th~ most rash of all attempts, is that of rending in pieces, in order to preserve our liberties, and promote our happiness. S. W. 0. V I T li U V I A N A E. BY PETER KOCH WREN, ARCHITECT. CHAPTER PIBSP. MORE OR LESS INTRODUCTORY TO THE AUTHORS STYLE. Trn~i days of temples are passed. It is an age of utilitarian- I have an ambition, also, to be useful to my fellow. beings. I shall, therefore, devote to their service the accumu- lated stores of my learning and experience. As a place in the qountry is the end and aim of nine out of ten of my fel- low-citizens, who do not know a cabbage from a cart-wheel, I shall dedicate this work chiefly to a series of useful rules and suggestions, for the building of Italian villas, Elizabethan cot- tages, Swiss ch~lets, Gothic castles and other such very taste- ful and appropriate improvements of the old-fashioned country house. To plunge, then, at once, into the middle of the subject, IL anticipate your impatience, my dear public, and shall proceed to tell you How to build a house. The mechanical part of the operation you had, perhaps, better leave to the carpenter and mason. The plan I shall be happy to furnish you. The following plain ~nd simplej rules will, IL think, singu- larly assist you. First. Put it up so that it will stand alone. A house which becomes inclined in early youth, is apt to crack before it reaches mature age, or au angle of forty-five degrees, and to allow the wind too much familiar access. Now-, the wind, says Sir Lytton Bulwer, is disagreeable when it whistles through the key-hole. It is apt to be more so when your

Peter Koch Wren, Architect Wren, Peter Koch, Architect Virtuvianae 27-33

1856.] Vi& uvianae. 27 fense of their sacred rights, consecrate their union, and excite horror at the idea of their becoming aliens, rivals, enemies. And if novelties are to be shunned, believe me, the most alarming of all novelties, the most wild of all projects~ th~ most rash of all attempts, is that of rending in pieces, in order to preserve our liberties, and promote our happiness. S. W. 0. V I T li U V I A N A E. BY PETER KOCH WREN, ARCHITECT. CHAPTER PIBSP. MORE OR LESS INTRODUCTORY TO THE AUTHORS STYLE. Trn~i days of temples are passed. It is an age of utilitarian- I have an ambition, also, to be useful to my fellow. beings. I shall, therefore, devote to their service the accumu- lated stores of my learning and experience. As a place in the qountry is the end and aim of nine out of ten of my fel- low-citizens, who do not know a cabbage from a cart-wheel, I shall dedicate this work chiefly to a series of useful rules and suggestions, for the building of Italian villas, Elizabethan cot- tages, Swiss ch~lets, Gothic castles and other such very taste- ful and appropriate improvements of the old-fashioned country house. To plunge, then, at once, into the middle of the subject, IL anticipate your impatience, my dear public, and shall proceed to tell you How to build a house. The mechanical part of the operation you had, perhaps, better leave to the carpenter and mason. The plan I shall be happy to furnish you. The following plain ~nd simplej rules will, IL think, singu- larly assist you. First. Put it up so that it will stand alone. A house which becomes inclined in early youth, is apt to crack before it reaches mature age, or au angle of forty-five degrees, and to allow the wind too much familiar access. Now-, the wind, says Sir Lytton Bulwer, is disagreeable when it whistles through the key-hole. It is apt to be more so when your 28 lTitru~iG4uze. [Jan., gable indulges in a general response to the popular Scotch air of Whistle and Ill come to ye, my lad. Second. Before you put up an illustrated villa or cottage orn6e, be sure you have counted the cost. As the be~t notes on building, I would suggest a constant reference to your book of notes payable. Third. Always secure a good aspect, which we would have you understand to mean, place your house so, that when people come to see it, they will not amuse themselves by what is vulgarly called, taking a sight at it, an operation com- monly performed by a close juxtaposition between the thumb and the olfactory organ of the observer. If you can place it so as to have the sun on both sides of it at onceit will be an advantage. Foitrth. As a general rule, the entrance should be in a con- venient place for getting in and out. 1f however, any local peculiarity obliges you to choose another. place, it will, per- a s be better to do so. You may, under such circumstances, console yourself with the adage, that the furthest way round is the nearest way home. Fifth. You should be particular about the kitchen and indis. pensable offices. ig however, you have, before you reach them, spent more money than you know where to borrow, the kitchen may be entirely dispensed with, as you will have food for thought ready cooked at all times. The purchase of a cow, which you may keep in the kitchen-garden, will, also, afford you an admirable opportunity of learning how to chew the cud of bitter fancies. Sixth. If your destiny, in your country home, is to be a mere idler, the smaller your house is the better, as you will have a greater chance of confining your attention to your business. Seventh. If you propose being an early riser and feeder, you will find a dining~room superfluous. After breakfasting with the early birds, upon worms, which, we are informed that class of the community catch in great numbers, you will find a bite, at noons with the cattle very convenient. This advice is founded upon the supposition, that your rural tastes will, naturally, lead you to go to grass. If, however, you make the late afternoon, or early evening ~rneal, the principal event of the, day, you can drink your tea, and will, consequently, have no need of a aalle c~ manger. .Th~31ah. You will, of course, provide a gem of a room for sour wifeMrs. Dobkins. Should you, however, be in the 185& ] Vitrwvianae. 29 habit of calling her my duck, the nearest pond may entirely obviate that necessity, and relieve you of a great deal of trouble. Ninth. Your salon, parlor, or drawing-roomas you please never being used, you will, naturally, spend the most pains and money upon it, and may also occasionally enliven the tedium of a stormy day, by unlocking the door, if Mrs. D will lend you the key, and, examining yourself in the grand mirror, request the gentleman you see there to explain his reflections, and say, what he means by insinuating that there is any truth in the adage, A fool and his money are soon parted. You will then cautiously retire, first being careful to observe that the slip-covers to the furniture have not been removed since the last annual visit of your fine neighbors, the De Bounces. We shall next proceed to consider the LIBRARY. The pro- vision of such a room is a necessity, provided you have airy books to put in it, or any desire to read them when you get there. If, however, your collection is small and select, consisting of the Complete Housewife, for Miss Dobkins, and a back- gammon box, labelled History of England, for yourseli a pair of swinging-shelves, in the general sitting-room, will be at once ornamental and convenient, and effect a decided sav- ing both in expenditure and space. THE GENTLEMENS IIRESSING-ROOM.----As this should be near the hail, you can have a closet to serve instead, cunningly contrived under the main staircase. You will, by this means, secure great ease of access and complete retirement. Mud being the prevalent characteristic of the country, and cowhide boots indispensable luxuries, the principal furniture should consist of a boot-jack and a p air of slippers. The tin basin and the jack-towel you will, of course, take care always to have ready in the wash-house. In warm wea- ther, the bench by the well is the more eligible position for them. THE PRINCIPAL STAIRCASE should, by all means, form a communication between the first and second floors of the house, unless, like honest Dennis Bulgrudderys, your ho use 15; only two stories high, and both on the ground-floor, when the staircase principle may be altogether omitted from the elevation: it can, then, be considered entirely off from the main hall, which may serve, on occasion, either as a ball-roorm 80 Vitruvianae. [Jan., or a ten-pin alley. In holiday times, however, the barn-floor offers a fine area of unobstructed space for both purposes, and affords a degree of primitive enjoyment to the dancers, altoge- ther unattainable in gilded halls, not that we are supposing your hall to be gilded, but that the quotation is appropriate to the dignity of the subject, and the slight reference to gold, in connection with dancing, highly suggestive of your having to pay the piper, at the end of the holidays. THE SLEEPING APARTMENTS, if you are of a convivial disposition, had better be upon the ground-floor, and handy to the dairy, unless the milk is kept lying about loose. Should you, however, decide upon the second floor, or upon having a second floor at all, a staircase.--roomy, easy of ascent, and with the fewest possible turnings~will be fouiid advanta- geous to health and longevity. The bed-rooms being used entirely for sleeping purposes, light will not only be superfluous, but entirely out of the ques- tion, as, the less light one has to sleep by, the better. Windows may, therefore, be dispensed with to the greatest advantage. A ventilation hole, like those used, we believe, in Glasgow, under a special exemption from that blessing of English con- stitutional libertythe window-taxbeing quite sufficient. Habits of early rising, and a large increase of health and wisdom, will accrue from this sensible and useful retrench~ ment. A door to each room will, we are disposed to think, be found indispensable. THE SERVANTS STAIRWAY ought t~ be entirely distinct from that used by the family. It is exceedingly awkward, and some- times annoying, to find John Footman making love to Sally Housemaid on the first landing, or Peter Groom and Dolly Cook comparing gains7 on the second, and debating the ques- tion of how soon they may prudently set up a public, or a steamboat-bar on your missings. ONAPTER SECOND. OF STYLES OF ARCHITEOTURg. YOUR architecture should spring naturally from the situation and prevailing features of the country, and your house be, as it were, the principal plant produced i~ipon your grounds. The werdancy of having a country house at all, and the improba 1856.] 81 bility of your producing any thing else, will, however, secure you a close approximation to this desirable ch~racteristic. To make assurance doubly suie,however, and take a bond of fateif the gentleman from whom. you purchase have not given you a surfeit of every thing in the nature of bonds, by taking yours for two thirds the purchase-money at ten per cent, and a bonus, it may not be:amiss to point out a few of the grand divisions in SYMPATHETIC ARCHITECTURE you would do well to attend to. 1f for instance, the country be a CHAMPAIGN one, a detached tower shaped in the form of a bottle will be highly picturesque, appropriate, and suggestive. The introduction of the cork- form in your out-buildings will be found an admirable exten- sion of the design, and afford a pleasing evidence of your accu- racy of taste. In the neighborhood of large rivers, or numerous lakes, nothing could be in finer keeping than the ark or flat-bc at. By the adoption of this form the annual recurrer~ce of. the spring freshets will add the agreeable variety of a yachting excursion, unattended with any of the trouble of such an amusement, to the monotony of an ordinary country life. Five years experience of a cquntry life in the kingdom of New-Jersey has disposed the author to believe the flat-boat style appropriate to almost any rural site, as no one but a de- cided~flat would remain, over a month at a time, in the country, of his own free will. In a mountainous country a CASTELLATED yesjdence is not inappropriate. Great care, howeve~, should be taken in adding the towers, or wings, as they are peculiarly apt to furnish your purse with the same unfortunate appendages. In a future chapter we may go more particularly into the subject of the different styles; also 1*ie method of warming and ventilating. The latter, however, we e~nsider of little cousequence, as, in the country, we always found it much more difficult to keep the wind out than let it in; indeed, every country house in which we were ever so unfortunate as to pass a night, sent us home with the ear~aehe, and a stiff neck, and appeared to us to be particularly dedicated to the worship of 4~olus. DRESSING IRoOMslinen-closets, housemaids~ and house- keepers rooms, bathing-rooms, ete;, ete., you may think about, but had much better take it out in thinking; as the more you 32 Vitruvianae. [Jan., have of them the worse you will be off; on the time-honored principle that fools build hoqses for wise men to live in. THE HEIGHT and proportion of the rooms must, in a mea- sure, depend upon tli e size of the building. If your house, therefore, be twenty-four by thirty-two feet, it may be an agreeable, but it will be found a delusive anticipation to expect your hall to be twenty feet wide, or your drawing-room to be forty by fifty. If it be a frame building, fourteen feet from plate to sill, it will also be an error to calculate upon having a sixteen-foot ceiling to your parlor, and, at the same time, room for a high- posted belstead on your second floor. With these slight and unimportant restrictions, you may make your rooms any size you please. Your IDINING-IRoOM, to secure the comfort of the diners, should be at least sixteen feet wide. A good cook, however, will be much more certain to secure their comfort, and it would, perhaps, be better to attend to the dimensions of your cook than your dining-room, as, without her, nojuatter what plan you lay down, the whole thing will very soon be as broad as it is long. We had intended to direct you where to put the fire-place, but it would be idle to do so before settling the question of the cook, as it would be merely getting out of the frying-pan into the fire. Your DRAWING-ROOM should not be square, but rather long than otherwise. As we expect, however, to be longer than otherwise before we have a drawing-room of our own to test the propriety of our directions upon, we shall not draw any farther on our imagination for this apartment. What rules should be applied to long corridors and galleries we are not prepared to say. Some good hints may be found in Lord Byron, however, as to their appropriateness for the resi- dence of a melancholy man, and we refer the reader, there- fore to his celebrated work on moral architecture, called Don Juan. After all, it would perhaps be as well to let the long corri- dors alone, and content yourself with a passage-way below, and a shelf for a pot of mignionette under each window. We shall devote our attention in the next chapter to the KITCHEN, and as that department offers a large range to the artist, we hope to do it particularly brown. 1856.1 ifter the Battle. 33 AFTER THE BATTLE. THERE is little in looking back upon a disastrously result. ing State election, to inspire us with very fanciful or visionary anticipations as to the future, or induce us in very exulting strains, to sound the praises of a party, that thus sacrifices its honor and integrity upon the altar of selfishness. Were the whole Democracy of the Union, thus sadly distracted, divided, and dwarfed, we would leave them to fight their own battles, write their own laudatory, and their own epitaph. The obsti- nate, fool-hardy selfishness, which has disgraced their leading men, has nullified and nothingized, for the moment, the once impregnable and lion-hearted Democracy of the Empire State. The fact is all we wish to put on record. To which faction the larger part of this disaster is attributable, we leave others to determine. It is sufficiently humiliating to view the scene before us; and if possible to read a moral in it, that may hereafter guide us in safer paths, and lead us to truer honor. Whenever the Democracy of New-York shall again be united; when the unselfish spirit of Silas Wright shall inspire and control the hearts of her leading men; then again, as we still fondly hope, her masses shall move arm in arm and shoulder to shoulder, in defense of the time-honored political principles, which so often, in the most trying times, and on the most mo, mentous occasions, they have triumphantly and gloriously vindicated,then, and not till then, shall we retrieve our wounded honor, and once more be pointed to from our sister States, as the Gibraltar of the Union, and the Constitution. Whilst we look at the dark side of the picture, let us not forget that all is not lost. When we look abroad over the vast army that is to be marshaled for the battle of 1856, we do not everywhere behold the banner of Democracy trailed in the dust. Far from it.. In every State of the Union a spirit of harmony is springing up, and the spirit of discord in our ranks dwindling away. The great body of Democratic men, out of New-York, are acting unitedly and energetically, and are achieving results which should inspire us with hope, and teach us to follow their example. We have in anticipation, a Na- tional Convention, which, by a firm and patriotic course, in per- 3

W. W. After the Battle 33-42

1856.1 ifter the Battle. 33 AFTER THE BATTLE. THERE is little in looking back upon a disastrously result. ing State election, to inspire us with very fanciful or visionary anticipations as to the future, or induce us in very exulting strains, to sound the praises of a party, that thus sacrifices its honor and integrity upon the altar of selfishness. Were the whole Democracy of the Union, thus sadly distracted, divided, and dwarfed, we would leave them to fight their own battles, write their own laudatory, and their own epitaph. The obsti- nate, fool-hardy selfishness, which has disgraced their leading men, has nullified and nothingized, for the moment, the once impregnable and lion-hearted Democracy of the Empire State. The fact is all we wish to put on record. To which faction the larger part of this disaster is attributable, we leave others to determine. It is sufficiently humiliating to view the scene before us; and if possible to read a moral in it, that may hereafter guide us in safer paths, and lead us to truer honor. Whenever the Democracy of New-York shall again be united; when the unselfish spirit of Silas Wright shall inspire and control the hearts of her leading men; then again, as we still fondly hope, her masses shall move arm in arm and shoulder to shoulder, in defense of the time-honored political principles, which so often, in the most trying times, and on the most mo, mentous occasions, they have triumphantly and gloriously vindicated,then, and not till then, shall we retrieve our wounded honor, and once more be pointed to from our sister States, as the Gibraltar of the Union, and the Constitution. Whilst we look at the dark side of the picture, let us not forget that all is not lost. When we look abroad over the vast army that is to be marshaled for the battle of 1856, we do not everywhere behold the banner of Democracy trailed in the dust. Far from it.. In every State of the Union a spirit of harmony is springing up, and the spirit of discord in our ranks dwindling away. The great body of Democratic men, out of New-York, are acting unitedly and energetically, and are achieving results which should inspire us with hope, and teach us to follow their example. We have in anticipation, a Na- tional Convention, which, by a firm and patriotic course, in per- 3 34 After the Battle. [Jan., mitting no jot or tittle of true Democratic faith to be sacrificed on the altar of Sectionalism, in selecting men, as candidates, who have shown their hand, uttered their opinions, and pledged their sacred honor to that faith, may again, even here, produce har- mony, and enable us to enter the contest of 1856, with .sure prestige of victory. It is possible for the Democracy of New- York, to regain the proud eminence on which they stood, when in 1852, they rolled up a majority of twenty-eight thou- sand for Pierce and King. It is not impossible that selfishness had something to do in producing that unparalleled majority; not so much, however, as it has openly and shamefully done, in reducing it to two impotent and contemptible minorities. Is it not possible, nay probable, so far as selfishness caused the discordant material of 1852 to combine in a solid and impregnable phalanx, that in 1856 it may perform the same beneficent office? It is a spirit of Mammon we admitthat least erected of the spirits that fell. But so long as the loaves and fishes are necessarily a com- ponent part of what is achieved by victory, the party most likely in his judgment to succeed, is certain to have, if not to be cursed in the end, by his support. The Democratic party is not the only one he is ready to serve. He is already count- ing his accumulated treasure of Know-Nothingism. He is by turns Irish, Anti-Mason, Abolitionist, and Mormon, just as the chances of success appear in prospect; and if he fail to thrust himself forward, and stand in the front rank in the contest of 1856, on the side of the Democratic nominees, it will be be- cause his grovelling and sordid perceptions, can not see the loaves and. fishes in that direction. He helped the Whigs in 1840, but deserted them the moment his expected National Bank was vetoed. He gave them a lift again in 1848, but quit them the moment Galphinism exploded, and their credit began to run low. We contend that the administration of President Pierce has been a good and an able one. No jot or tittle of our national honor has been sacrificed, nor has the country, from any want of enlightened statesmanship or sound policy, on the part of the government, suffered in any of its vast interests. In our November number we showed conclusively, that the Presidents vetoes of three important acts of Congress, of the last session, were not only justifiable and called for, on grounds of positive justice and sound policy, but that they were in strict accord- ance with the opinions and decisions which have emanated from our purest and wisest Democratic statesmen, for the last half a century. 1856.] After the Battle. 35 The administration is not to be condemned for that cause, even if it have suffered the inevitable consequences of coming into power by so vast and unexpected a majority. We will not stop to basket up the family of troubles, naturally and almost inevitably resulting from having so many to feed. The most common mind will discover the difficulty at a glance; and we fear that our merely hinting at the idea, may induce or provoke some ill-disposed persons, to throw back upon us the insinuation, that we are not likely at the next trial to encoun- ter the same evil. Jefferson used to say, that one or two was the safest majority in a house of Congress. We suppose the safety consisted in there being little danger of such a majority being split up into cliques and factions. Speaking of Jefferson, reminds us of the man who did more than any other to lay a solid and durable foundation of pure republican principles, upon which the Democratic party might plant its standard and be invulnerable. It is to the period, in which his influence had such controlling power over the des- tiny of his country, that we can also look for a sample of such integrity and devotion to those principles, as whenever prac- tised and lived up to, will shield them from danger or degen- eracy. He, like all his Democratic successors in office, had fanaticism and Federalism to contend with. In his time, the priesthood were alarmed lest the Bible should be suppressed, and all the infidelity that had disgraced France, prevail here under legal sanction. They therefore united with the Federal- ists in denouncing him as a Jacobin and demagogue. The pulpit became a political forum, and a great many good old ladies, and some very honest men, were exceedingly frightened, both in Connecticut and Massachusetts. The Federal party were powerful in wealih, as well as in the eminent talent and learning of their leading men. The wealth was not held back when it could be brought to bear upon the envied popularity of the Democrat Jefferson. (We owe the Federalists what it is worth, for the name they gave us in derision, and when we have made it respectable, have tried to steal.) The talents of that aristocratic party, were bitterly, constantly, and intensely em- ployed in defaming his character, and in misrepresenting and distorting his motives and policy. No denunciations of the patriot Jackson, in our times, were more bitter and relentless than were bestowed upon Jefferson, from the day he became the powerful rival of the elder Adams, to that in which he sur- rendered the presidential chair to Mr. Madison. No times have been more trying to the popularity of a public man. The 36 After the Ba/tie. [Jan., republic was, as it were, in its infancy. Its strength was not developed. Its resources were limited. The country was threatened, both at home and from abroad; yet no man has since taken a more decided stand, or more unflinchingly main- tained and defended the national honor than did he. The force of his character, and the integrity of his party were such, that although he came into power by a mere casting vote in the House of Representatives, he was at the end of four years triumphantly re~ilected by the people, and brought the second term of his service to a brilliant close, by the election of a Democrat as his successor. We shall need just such a Demo- cratic party next year. They were a goodly heritage, left by Mr. Jefferson to Mr. Madison, for his support in what he was to encounter in the war of 1812. The hatred of the Federal party for every thing Democratic, did not end with Mr. Jeffersons administration~ but, if possi- ble, was exhibited towards that of Madison in even greater violence and atrocity. The same priesthood, and the same politicians were still alive; and their bigotry on the one hand, and disappointed ambition on the other, seemed to have lost none of their virulence, but on the contrary, to have reached in madness, the verge of treason. On the fanatic side, in the war of 1812, England was toasted as the Bulwark of our re- ligion, and the Worlds last hqpe. On that of the politicians, Madison was denounced in every form of malignant vitupera- tion of which language is expressive. Such things ought not to be entirely forgotten; and therefore we will offer the fol- lowing, merely as a sample, for it is only an instance among ten thousand. It is a sentiment offered by a distinguished Federalist, on a public occasion: James Miadisonunfit for Heaventoo bad for Hell: may the anger of darkness convey him beyond the bounds of either. We do not mean to insinuate that either Fusionists, Know-Nothings, or Abolitionists would now so far forget themselves, as to denounce President Pierce in terms of such utter disrespect; but they have come as near to it as the present state of civilization will permit. The noble Democracy which Mr. Jefferson had trained, were the shield and buckler of Mr. Madisons administration to the end of the war. Its close was brilliant. It shed a light upon the enormities perpetrated towards their country by the Fede- ral party, Hartford Convention and all, which caused them to shrink from public view. The party was never heard of again, as such, for ten years. It had been practically dead from the election of Mr. Monroe, to that of Mr. Adams; and the first 1856.] After the Battle. notice we had of its resurrection, was the announcement by Josiah Quincy, of Boston, we think on the 4th July, 1825, in a toast in honor of Mr. Adams: Those who fell with the first Adams, have risen with the second. The election of 1828 taught them, that if they had thus risen, it was only to fall again. Of the faithfulness and energy of the Democracy, not only in the violent struggle which resulted in General Jacksons elec- tion, but in the subsequent events that marked the administra- tion of that heroic man, it were useless here to speak. They are as familiar to all as household words. It is enough to say of the Democracy of Jacksons time, that they stood by their principles, and their illustrious leader, with iinjlinching firm- ness to the last, and placed in the chair of state as his successor his chosen man. But General Jackson, great and faithful as he was, did not leave to Mr. Van Buren a duty without its great and embarrass- ing difficulties, He had himself most evidently foreseen, that a financial crisis was approaching; for, in the summer of 1836, nearly a year before the expiration of his official term, he had caused an order to be issued, requiring the payments for the public lands, purchased on speculation, and not for actual settlement, to be made in gold and silver, instead of bank- notes, which had up to that time been received. The crisis his wisdom and forecast had thus anticipated, did not arrive till after Mr. Van Burens accession in 1837. It was such as caused an almost universal suspension of specie payments, by the banks throughout the country, a prostration of business, and a general state of bankruptcy for several years. In this emergency, Mr. Van Buren called a special session of Congress, and submitted to that body a remedy for the then existing evil, so far as the public treasury is concerned, which has since been readopted, and as we trust become a settled policy, to wit: that all the public dues, of every nature and description shall be paid, and all its disbursement made in specie. The proposition seems not to have been finally acted upon by Congress, till the people in the election of a new one, had had an opportunity to be heard. But in the first session of the next Congress, Mr. Van Burens sub-treasury bill be- came a law, and received his approval on the 4th of July, 1840. It was in the midst of the political hurricane of T~ppe- canoe and Tyler too ; and in that drunken canvass, in which professed religion and positive debauchery, walked arm in arm and shoulder to shoulder, it had before its passage become the 38 After the Battle. [Jan., only open issue the enemies of Mr. Van Buren offered. The man of straw without principles, whom they had chosen for a candidate, was, under, the circumstances of the crisis, triumph- antly elected President of the United States. Many men sup- posed, that thereupon, the Democratic party would wrap itself in grave-clothes, and die off as decently as possible. But the history shows a far different result. At the fall elections of 1841, it became perfectly apparent that the Coon, and not the Democracy, had gone into a state of defunction. The animal was practically skinnecl~ from Maine to Louisiana. Nevertheless, it struggled hard to live, and had a sort of spasmodic existence. Under the banner of that great aiid talented man, (however fatally he may have erred in politics,) Henry Clay, the Whig party rallied again, and made a desperate effort against the Democracy, in 1844. It was a well-fought field, and, unlike that of 1840, it was a pitched battle, on the ground of political principles and prin- ciples of public policy. The friends of Martin Van Buren were wounded deeply, that he was not the chosen candidate to bear the Democratic flag in that fight, and have an opportunity to retrieve, in his own person, the defeat of 1840. Neyertheless, they were Democrats still, and no matter who the standard- bearer might be, they were determined to have their full share of the fight. And so they did. New-York, wounded, as her Democracy might justly feel, at M. Van Burens rejection by the National Convention, when he had gone into that body with a large majority, little less than two thirds, still stood firmly by the principles and the usages of the party. Silas Wright; then a Senator and the leading one in Congress, had been offered the nomination as Vice-President on the ticket, with Mr. Polk, and had declined it. But, when it seemed certain that Mr. Polk must lose the vote of the State and with it his election, unless the very strongest man in the affections and the confidence of the people of New.York could be placed in nomination, at the head of our State ticket, Mr. Wrights magnanimity was appealed to by the party. The great per- sonal sacrifice he made when he accepte the ubernatorial nomination, and yielded his exalted position in the Senate, can scarcely be fully appreciated. Nor could such a sacrifice have been expected but from the most unselfish patriot whose name adorns the history of the Empire State. The close of the canvass told the value of the service he had rendered. It bad secured the election of the Democratic ticket, and, with that triumph, the vindication and re~stablishment of the solid, 1& 56.] After the Battle. 39 constitutional principles of public policy, which had marked the administrations of Jackson and Van Buren; and Mr. Van Buren, in his retirement, can not but regard one of the fruits of that campaign as a trophy of inestimable value. It secured the re~inactment of the sub-treasury of 1840, upon which he had staked his reputation as a statesman; and the sober second thought of his countrymen has settled down upon it in contentment and peace, fully persuaded that it is the best and safest financial system, both for the government and the people, the wisdom of man can devise. What administration of this government has conferred higher or more substantial benefits upon the country than that of Mr. Polk? If the Whigs of 1844 were alarmed at the annexation of Texas, and trembled, like the king of Babylon, at the war with Mexico, how deeply should they lament the acquisition of California, the establishment of the tariff of 184G, and the re~$stablishment of the independent treasury, whose everlasting condemnation they vainly supposed they had pronounced in 1840. The principal object of this article is to call to mind a few of the high claims the Democracy of the tTnited States have upon the confidence and gratitude of the country, and to demonstrate, that the party who have accomplished so much are neither disbanded nor disheartened; but, on the contrary, are looking forward, with confident and firm resolves, to new triumphs and the achievement of still richer national benefits. With the causes which produced the defeat of General Cass, in 1848, the people of New-York, at least, are perfectly fami- liar. If the Nicholson letter, asserting the right of squatter sovereignty, had any share in producing the result, that truly great and patriotic man will find a source of just pride, in the fact, that the Congress of the United States, with the approval of a Democratic President, have as fully carried out his views on that question, as they have those of Mr. Van Bur~n in regard to the sub-treasury. Neither of those men needed the Pre- sidency to make him great. The defeat of General Cass accomplished nothing that the Whigs could claim as a victory, except the temporary posses- sion of power without the means of using it for the establish- ments of any of their aristocratic dogmas or doctrines. The administration of Mr. Fillmore was relieved of its monotony by the Compromise Acts of 1850, in the passage of which the greatest and best men of both parties could and did cordi- ally unite. 40 After the Battle. [Jan., Benjamin F. Hallett, when the anti-masonic party to which he had belonged, was sold to the Whigs, in refusing to ratify the contract, pronounced the Whig party the inherent minority in the United States, and their history, thus far, indicates that Mr. llallett was not far from the mark. In 1852, the Whigs offered a military chieftain, as regular a war, pestilence,, and famine chief-captain as was General Jackson; one who had never drawn his sword but to be victo- rious; covered with laurels; ten times the man, in a military or civil point of view, that either Harrison or Taylor had been; the first choice of the great body of the Whigs; available; having all the isms and fanaticisms on his side; acceptable to the IRomish Church; delighted with the sweet Irish brogue, and wondering at the varied richness of the German tongue. Against such a candidate the Democrats placed in the field Franklin Pierce, of New~Hampshire, a man who had not been named in connection with the Presidency beyond the limits of his native State, twenty-four hours before his nomina- tion. If the veracity of the Whigs can be relied on, his only mili- tary glory consisted in having fainted before Chapultepec. His principal available qualities were his acknowledged ability, his sterling patriotism, and his unswerving fidelity to the prin- ciples and usages of the Democratic party. He was placed before the country on a political creed or platform, unmistak- ably plain and explicit in its terms, openly avowed, widely promulgated, at war with all the isms and fanaticisms, implor- ing the aid of no section or faction, but appealing, boldly and fearlessly, to the whole people of the United States for their verdict on its merits. The principles on which Franklin Pierce rested for victory were sufficient to insure it, no matter how small in stature he may have seemed~ when compared with the Giant of Gath. The giant took four States, the strip- ling the balance. Hiss administration has been distinguished by a faithful adherence to the platform on which he was elected. The Kansas-Nebraska Act, brought forward in Congress, and so ably and successfully advocated by the talented and intrepid Senator from Illinois for a time, threatened to Taise a serious question; inasmuch, as it abrogated the Missouri - Compro- mise. A party was immediately organized, and made its appeal. Its only visible effect, thus far, has been the rending asunder of the Whig party proper, and giving the largest half to the Know-Nothings, who seem to KNOW ENOUGH to repudiate the sectional malignity of the other portion; and they 1856.] After the Battle. 41 will learn, in due time, that intolerance in matters of religion, in thi~s country, is not only unconstitutional, but an inherent minority quality, in a political party The triumphs of the Democracy during the present year, in Pennsylvania, Virginia, Indiana, North-Carolina, New-Jersey, Georgia, Maine, Tennessee, Florida, and other States, are far from indicating the disorganization and dissolution of the party. These elections have been, necessarily, of a local character, and, in such cases, the Democracy are seldom out in the united strength they muster at a presidential canvass. In Ohio, although a year ago, the fusion of Whigs, Abolitionists, and malcontents in general, carried the election by an uncounted majority, it appears the good old Democratic party is still alive, and, at the recent election, have brought the fusion~~ majority to a very low figure, with every prospect of its utter annihilation in 1856. This is the only Western State where fusion of Abolitionism and Whiggery has really effected any thing. If we recollect well, the Dutch have taken Hol- land, in Vermont. The Cincinnati Gazette, whose editor is of the Seward school, extends its hands imploringly to the Know-Nothings, and exclaims: Without the aid of the Amer~- can party, Ohio could not have been, and CAN NOT BE carried against the Democratic party. We shall see, within a year, whether salt-petre, when combined with the other ingredients of gunpowder, will explode. New-York has ever, and, from her great population and commercial position, both on the sea-coast and the Western waters, will ever, exert a vast influence upon the elections of the country, and, particularly, upon a presidential election. The instances are few, confined, we believe, to one, where her Democracy, when united~ have failed of success,the anomalous election of 1840, when Mr. Van Buren was defeated. We were divided and distracted before the nomination of Pierce, nearly as much so as we are now, but, when reUnited, we swept the State overwhelmingly. Shall it be done again? There is no note of fear, of disaster, or defeat in any other quarter, amongst the great Democratic family of the Union. Let the leading men of the Democratic party, in New-York, study the character of Silas Wright, and imitate his example of patriotism and magnanimity. W. 42 A Alorning at the Church of the Pilgrims. [Jan., A MORNING AT TUE CHURCH OF THE PILGRIMS. LIFE has its myths as history has; actual and substantial personages, it is true, but so inflated with assumptions, or mag- nified by rumors, that the real mingles with the fabulous, the distinction between the master and the disciple fades, and is lost in the shock of tumultuous mediocrity. They are the peculiar products of no geographical section, nor exclusively the emanation of particular professions or employments. They have a nubilous existence in the columns of the political press, and are found among the pious components of the Church But the myth political differs from the myth clerical, both in characteristics and in influence. Apotheosis overtakes the one while on his knees before the people for the accolade of honorable, and for the emoluments of office; while the other arrives at canonization through the servility of the congrega- tion whose admiration he has conquered, and whose conscience he enthralls. This one exerts despotic sway with an arbitrary power; but that one controls while seeming to persuade, and dictates while appearing to obey. The result, however, is in each case the same; the abject flattery and the mental abase- ment of the followers, and the imperious dogmatism or the dissimulating domination of the leaders. Were society ex- hausted by this classification, social progress would be arrested and human interest sacrificed by the conflict of human passions. But happily, it absorbs but a comparatively small portion of the members that compose, or of the thought that stimulates the civilized world. While the few are striving for the oppor- tunity of ambitious elevation, or the many for that of plastic servility; for individual aggrandisement on the one hand, or for common deprivation on the other; the destinies of the race accompany the multitudes that move in the thoroughfares which religion has prepared and civilization has opened for liberal institutions; and which both have designated to be the paths of progress towards the greatest social happiness. A pause in the journey will permit us to examine the digressions of the erratic ones, and to profit either by the disclosure of their errors or by the example of their virtues. Henry Ward Beecher occupies a large space in the public

A Morning at the Church of the Pilgrims 42-57

42 A Alorning at the Church of the Pilgrims. [Jan., A MORNING AT TUE CHURCH OF THE PILGRIMS. LIFE has its myths as history has; actual and substantial personages, it is true, but so inflated with assumptions, or mag- nified by rumors, that the real mingles with the fabulous, the distinction between the master and the disciple fades, and is lost in the shock of tumultuous mediocrity. They are the peculiar products of no geographical section, nor exclusively the emanation of particular professions or employments. They have a nubilous existence in the columns of the political press, and are found among the pious components of the Church But the myth political differs from the myth clerical, both in characteristics and in influence. Apotheosis overtakes the one while on his knees before the people for the accolade of honorable, and for the emoluments of office; while the other arrives at canonization through the servility of the congrega- tion whose admiration he has conquered, and whose conscience he enthralls. This one exerts despotic sway with an arbitrary power; but that one controls while seeming to persuade, and dictates while appearing to obey. The result, however, is in each case the same; the abject flattery and the mental abase- ment of the followers, and the imperious dogmatism or the dissimulating domination of the leaders. Were society ex- hausted by this classification, social progress would be arrested and human interest sacrificed by the conflict of human passions. But happily, it absorbs but a comparatively small portion of the members that compose, or of the thought that stimulates the civilized world. While the few are striving for the oppor- tunity of ambitious elevation, or the many for that of plastic servility; for individual aggrandisement on the one hand, or for common deprivation on the other; the destinies of the race accompany the multitudes that move in the thoroughfares which religion has prepared and civilization has opened for liberal institutions; and which both have designated to be the paths of progress towards the greatest social happiness. A pause in the journey will permit us to examine the digressions of the erratic ones, and to profit either by the disclosure of their errors or by the example of their virtues. Henry Ward Beecher occupies a large space in the public 18~56.] A Jiforning at the Church of the Pilgrims. 43 eye. At once editor and preacher, he possesses the most pow- erful means of impressing public opinion. With the results of his labors we have nothing now to do; it is to his manner and to the field of those labors that we purpose to address ourselves. Tt certainly is neither strange that a champion in the columns of a newspaper should come to be regarded by his disciples as a Leviathan of literature, nor unaccountable that the most in- trepid of declaimers should become a theological Corypheus. While there is much to sustain the partiality of his friends, there is more to shake the impartiality of their verdict. Both they and he are amenable to an apellate jurisdiction; and at the bar of the public we arraign them for judgment. It is no easy task, that of polemics. No ordinary abilities are required fot its prosecution, and no ordinary use of those required will secure their success. When the orthodox Christ- ian is confronted in controversy by the heretic, the Bible is the arsenal to which both resort for the accustomed weapons of theological warfare; but when conflict is driven between the deist and the divine, the clangor of strange arms startles synods from their repose. Spiritual dogmas are assailed, and revela- tion itself is attacked. Spiritual infallibility and spiritual pride the banners behind which a priesthood intrenches itselfare converted by the enterprising foe into hostile fortresses. Reason is invoked and cogently applied; nature is summoned from her fastnesses to the affray; every stratagem of every art, every argument of every invention; all devices and all considerations compose the panoply of the free-thinker; and saintly mediocrity, at its almost tension, though armed with an orthodox formulary, and with the theology of a ritualist, can rarely be restrained from availing itself of the privilege of a free fight, to count itself out. Not so with Henry Ward Beecher. He enters the arena with the assurance of the victor of a hundred fields. No skirmishing diverts his enemy or fatigues his ~wn strength. He never defends, but always attacks. The first scratch of his pen draws blood, and all his lines flows in an empurpled stream. Positive are all his positions, unrelenting all his antagonisms; platitudes he puts to flight pursued by unnumbered terrors. With him religious controversy is a war to the death, and submission to peace but a truce with the devil. Compromise with error he would un- dertake as soon as the defense of Iscariot, and to temporize with an adversary attempt as soon as to mingle nectar with gall. He despises the arts of the gladiator, though evidently familiar with them. Hardly has he shouted his battle-cry be- 44 A Jtornin~j at the Church of the Pilgrim& [Jan., fore he rushes upon his enemy, and with downright blows and main strength attempts his position. If successful, no chivab rous consideration for the vanquished restrains his triumphal note; if defeated, no artifice is employed to conceal his disappointment. In every event he views things as they are, and is content that others should do so too; and well he may be. The public he writes for is the Beecher public; the eyes it uses are the Beecher eyes. Fragmentary truths cast into the hopper of its conscience come out Beecher; and their incarnate product is idolized as the ground-work of its faith. A reverse, however disastrous, is, therefore, with his devotees, unequal to his disparagement; and though at first humiliated by the con- sciousness of defeat, yet the perverse p~ans of his friends do not fail to be eventually mistaken by him for the evidence of his success. It is surprising that the faculties of the man have not yet succumbed to this frequently-recurring syncope. That they have survived unimpaired, while it is evidence of their strength, should be, to a wise man, the occasion for averting the danger of their future destruction. It is difficult to characterize definitively the style of Mr. Beechers writings; accurately speaking, they have none. Every phase of thought that impresses his mobile mind exacts corresponding peculiarity of expression. The ponderous op- presses the fluent on the same page; the familiar makes intrepid forays into the precincts of the grave, and whole caravans of similes bear their knapsacks over bleak districts of abstract argumentation. But this variety is unattended either by elo- quence of diction or by appositeness of language. His thought involuntarily presents itself to a magazine of words collected without selection, and abundant without arrangement. The result is inevitable. The whole commodity is expended on the instant; and sentences which were intended for repertories of exact dialectics are frequently obscured by an uncertain voca- bulary. Critical precision is out of the question. The habit of his mind, while admirable for invective and adapted to satire, unfits him for the accuracy of exposition, and disquali- fies his logic. Qualities such as these make the debaterthe polemic they destroy. The reader is never elevated by the standard of Mr. Beechers literature; his mind never imbued with the excellence of his performance. The fluent thought which glides on diaphonous wings from garnered stores of classic lore, never lubricates the harsh current of his page: the progress of his work discloses no scholars plastic hand embel- lishing with taste and enriching with learning the products of 1856.] A 3liorning at the Church of the Pilgrirne. 45 his invention. A direct road, and a rough, is the road to his purpose. Awaiting no eminence from which, as from vantage- ground, to commence a journey to which his reader is invited in exploration of the country beyond, lie plunges fearlessly into bog or morass, as may happen in his way, and diligently following the labyrinth of moral depravity, exposes the mon- ster and drives him howling from his lair. The pioneer some- times hears forest-echoes of crashing sounds and sees branches tossed and trees uprooted, and knows the dread tornado. So when the worlds moral wilderness is shaken and doleful voices sound along its aisles the pilgrim takes good heart that Henry Ward Beecher is smiting root and branch. Action is im- pressed on all his productions, whether be hymns his Maker, or excoriates an atheistit is action that predominates. Be- tween it and stagnation there is no middle state for him. Mod- eration would be as much treason in his counsels as in his religion, it would be heresy; and quiet as ruinous to his career as to a planet would be repose in its orbit. Motion is his cha- racteristic. He inspires more by the multiplicity of his thoughts than by their separate value. Isolated, they are weak: it is their aggregate that prevails. Thus distances are inseparable from his reasonings; not that he dwells in his footsteps, or protracts his journey, but that his pace is of the minutest and his route the longest way round. It can not be said that Mr. Beecher is great as a writer. Destitute of language and defi- cient in strength, not eyen beauty of arrangement can be claimed for the preservation of his productions. They are of th~ day, ephemeral; and when the day shall have passed, not less surely will have passed away his writings. It is some- thing strange that this should be so. He is one of a numer- ous family distinguished for their attainments and their genius. Of all his brothers, not one who does not excel him as an author; while some have attained eminence for their terse, nervous, and elegant diction. The muses are walking by the side of his sisters, and with one, genius herself delights to abide. Wonderful family! happy fraternity; among whom intellect has been distributed in largest proportions; by whom it has been most largely endowed; and yet amongst whom Henry Ward Beecher is not the superior. But it is not as an author that our subject excels. His chief distinction is derived from the pulpit, and his peculiar excel- lence is perceptible only when in the midst of his congregation. Reader, have you ever been to church? It is worth ones while to go there; and whether it be to cathedral, chapel, or 46 A iItGrning at the Church of the Pilgrirn~. [Jan., meeting-house, does not matter, so long as there are people in- side, and a man at the desk. One has before him then a scene for abundant observation. Population may be as accurately classified by the pews of the tabernacle, as by the tables of the census. The segregation of the wicked in the aisle, is perhaps as emblematic as the approximation of the godly to the nave. The vicinity of the chancel abounds with those whose carriages choke the narrow way with a fashionable cortege: an eques- trian order of lacquered saints, who would decline the heaven- ward journey, unless performed with the chariots of Tsrael, and the horsemen thereof. Unnoticed sinners throng the sides and attempt religion in the galleries. No royal banners indicate their section: a pedestrian troupe, half-hidden by the display, and quite silenced by the pretensions of their titled brethren; these have entered the wicket-gate, and hopefully tread the steep and rugged path to ~the New Jerusalem. All orders of men assemble to worship in the temple of the living God. A somnambulatory spiritualism carries the merchant to the mart, who is inclining a dreamy ear to the preachers inventory of the treasures above. The reverie of the lawyer relinquishes his case, when the scripture, Agree with thine adversary quickly, whilst thou art in the way with him, startles his in- stincts with fears of escaping clients. The exterior of the poli- tician implies a respectful assent to the text We are all His children, while his mind is assiduously operating a compro- mise of his share in the common filiation of humanity to the father of lies. From the profounds of sleep emerge the genii, who tell down ingots of gold to the wrapt senses of the money- changer. Affluence rustles in its silks; poverty is mindful of its pride. The mistress ogles whom the maid admires; the vagabond reprobates what the hypocrite contemns: while but a precious handful reverently receive the tidings of righteous- ness, temperance, and judgment to come. By far the greatest number of those who frequent churches, seek sanctuary for their sins; few only seek sanctuary from them. These rescue from reproach the hallowed precepts of the Master: those subject to suspicion the professors of His faith. It is very questionable to what amount of sanctity, an exacting scrutiny would entitle a saintly congregation of the modern ingredients. Perhaps the attempt were better omitted, for indeed it would be appalling, were the conventional habi- tation of virtue and religion to be discovered to have become but the occupation of a hypocrisy and the retreat of a rascality that have exhausted the safety of every other device. It was 1856.] A illiorning at the Church of the Pilgrims. 47 a saying, as characteristic of its rugged author, as it was appro- priate to his times, that Patriotism . is the last refuge of a scoundreL An easy transition, both from the times and the proverb, might discover to the modern sage both the scoundrel and his refuge in the religious twilight of a New-York church. The fretted roof and groined arch, not ignobly reflect the sub- dued, but gorgeous tints that fall from mullioned windows; luxurious appointments court the senses, and solace the indo- lence of the assenibled worshippers, no discord interrupts their religious repose. The chaunt, the hymn, the organs solemn swell, combine the harmonious opiate, which presides over the somnolence of belle, burgomaster, and beau; and if by chance an unguarded sleeper topples down, his doom, unlike that of Eutychus, extinguishes no life, but only perturbs some nebu- lous body in the system of fashion, whose restoration requires a power as miraculous, as that which restored him of Troas to the dwellers in the third loft. Drowsiness oppresses the effete sensuality, that expects for the homage of its presence the re- ward of salvation. Curiosity excites the pruriency of those, whose youth of calumny it is hoped, may be expiated by the discovery in their age of others as bad as they. Envy rankles, jealousy corrodes. The strains of the last nights revels occu- py the ear that should be intent on the truths of to-day. Even the preacher forsakes his official obligations to simplify for the turgid involutions of an obscure style; and the language which criminal artifices have yet spared to nature, becomes, when wrested to the purposes of an ambitious rhetoric, but anagram- matic of the thought: that, it is to be hoped, is still spared to religion. From such a scene Christianity mournfully recedes. Her primal simplicity shrinks from sacerdotal pomp, and ab- hors even the virtues, when on parade. She withered beneath the austerity of the cloister; she will perish under the frivolity of the church. Early persecutions chastened her children and purified their faith. Later security has acquired for her a popular favor, which even now has converted her porch into the vestibule of fashion, and filled her courts with its devotees. Once the implement of salvation achieved for man, she was afterwards wrested to the purposes of his oppressors. Weary centuries of bigot sway crushed the hopes she had inspired; and mans doom was read in the footprints of superstition. The morning came; the face of the evangelist was pleasant on the hill-tops; the dwellers in the vales received his tidings, and the nations returned to the worship of God. Yet a more for- midable trial is Christianity undergoing now. The gloom of 48 A Morning at the Church of the Pilgrim8. [Jan., the ascetic has given place to the complacency of the commu- nicant; the monks cowl to the mummers mask. The rod with which the priests compelled the affections of nature into universal obedience to a spiritual despotism, when transferred to the divine, blossoms in a dominion established in the flattery of the senses, and in the arrogance of an exclusive caste. Good men wonder at the pact, which chartered profligacy holds with subsidized virtue, and tremble that the Church is the course and the goal of their career. Good men grieve that the mys- teries of the renewed birth have been bartered for those of spiritual progression; and sorrow that the house, which it is written, shall be the house of prayer, has been made by the necrologists of the new dispensation, a den of thieves. When phantoms defeat the truths of revelation; and phantoms dis- place their convictions; when religion is dissolved in the lasci- vious embrace of eternal progression; and sin established in the prospect of punishment eternally postponed; when earth as- sumes the livery of heaven, and His altar smokes with com- placent sacrifice, good men groan with a fearful agony, How long, 0 Lord! holy and true! and earth and its destinies, and the mysterious heavens, and prophetic nature, testify, yet for a little season The application of this picture is not uni- versal. Exceptions there are as emphatic as they are rare. Churches where worship is not a ceremony, nor religion a rhapsody of words: the members of which are more heedful of their neighbors than of their own wants, and the pastors of which are more heedful of their own than of their neighbors itt- firmities: churches whose labor is with the harvest of the world; and whose theology embraces a humanity commensurate with the beneficence of God. Such erect no architectural pile, nor gather beneath the gilded dome; a severe simplicity character- izes their taste; utility directs them; and if the insignia of afflu- ence ever attend their efforts, be sure that their benefits are pro- portionate to the means employed. They are to be found, though at wide intervals, throughout the land. Indeed, our cities are sometimes blessed with their presence. I had even heard, tha such a church there is in Brooklyn, set like a city on a hill, and that its candlestick is supported by Henry Ward Beecher. Now the reputation of a minister is as often the manufacture of his congregation, as the congregation is the product of that of the minister; certain it is, that in this instance, rumor had invested the people with a social efficacy, that reflected the attributed qualities of the pastor, and whether his accommodation to their aggregated idea, or their subjection to his personal mastery 1856.] A 3lorning at the Church of the Pilgrims. 49 were the process of conjunction, critical analysis alone could determine, and careful observation alone would disclose. It was a clear cold morning, that which brought me to the Church of the Pilgrims. The angularity of Plymouth Rock had evidently been consulted by the architect who planned it; and as evidently was the rigor of the winter of 1620 the idea attempted in the order of its architecture. A short flight of slippery steps presented a frigid approach to a melancholy ves- tibule. Very precise bricks from very red walls, seemed to stand sentinel on corners which they very sharply turned. Pillars shot up with a swell, seemingly bursting with a con- sciousness of the magnitude of their support; and doors swung with a swagger wide, as if emulating old 0-niness heart, which is popularily believed to have been as open as the day. The interior diminished nothing of the outer effect. Walls of the very plainest gleamed coldly with a finish of the hardest and whitest; and a ceiling impended from above like a suspended sea of ice. An organ sent up its glittering spires from behind a choir, whose ever-recurring trios suggested a search, by a Rule- of-Three process, for some unknown quantity of music. Below them and in front, was seated Mr. Beecher, the archetype in ap- pearance of all that was formal in the walls, cold in the vesti- bule, and angular in the rock. A singular effect was produced by the arrangement of the church. A broad shelf of thickly- peopled gallery, extending quite around, projected declivitously from every side to the central floor; and as the eye dwelt on the assembled mass, either from above or below continuous gradations of amphitheatrical heads seemed to be looking down upon their favorite athlete. In the area in the midst stood an elevated daYs ;a pulpit it could not be called, which had the properties of none. A simple structure furnished a sup- port for the necessary devotional books, and a plain sofa the re- quisite means of personal seat. There he sat, the object of at- tention to allHenry Ward Beecherto the devotee a godto the curious an enigmaambitiously simple and ostentatiously plain; studiously placed by the topography of his church in the focus of vision, and in the centre of thought. The congregation was dense but reverentiaL The occupants of each pew seemed the members of one family; and their multiplication assimi- lated the worship to that of a large family circle. The absence of old men was notable; those present being of the middle age, plain and thoughtful people, whose features active habits had impressed with intelligence, and business had stamped with the spirit of the age. A very large proportion were children; so 4 50 A Morning at the Church of the Pil~ims. [Jan., that one could not but feel, when adjusted in his seat, that he had been received into the embrace of a domestic brotherhood, whose interests were his own, and whose admirations he could not but largely share. There were exceptions, however. Strangers crowded the aisles. Among these, curiosity was the predominating passion; or, when actuated by a better motive, there still was wanting the indefinable impress of the Beecher household. Here an~ there members of the anti-tonsorial fra- ternity exhibited the natural badges of their faith. Mustache and beard presented formidable evidence of the capillary phi- losophy of their owners, while the smooth faces and polled crowns resisted this covert impeachment of their importance, by an arrangement of features which plainly enough spelled that Good )vine needs no bush. But all eyes are now fast- ened on the minister. He has arisen from his seat, and stands before his people. Languor oppresses his action; his voice is inaudible beyond the immediate pews; his energies seem op- pressed with the listlessness which characterizes his posture; and the worship of the day is attempted as if a fatigue. Pro- found stillness reignseach gesture is noted and every look treasured. In a conversational tone, now, he reads the chapter of the day. It is the act of a formalist, and its spirit is per- fanctory. The excellence of the truth appears to inspire not so mtich as gospel sanctions seem to command. Emphasis ne- glected, and distinctness disregarded, the reader makes his wax slovenly through his task; and as the sacred book is close the hearer feels that the Scriptures acquire nothing of beauty at the hands of Mr. Beecher. More feeling, however, is percep- tible in the rendering of the hymn; still thereis a painful ab- sence of animalion, and as the organ clothes the thoughts of the poet in music, the stranger sits in disappointment who had ex- pected an orator in the p reacher. A feeble invitation precedes the act of prayer~io e or elevates the people to God: the first sentence brings God down to the people; and then with au easy peripatetic conversation God is chaperoned through the dwellings, and is informed of the occupations of each: of the wants that should be supplied, and of the blessings that are expected. A more copious catalogue of desirable favors it were dilflcult to imagine. Reforms that should regenerate, succeed amendments that may recompense; and righteousness and reward are strangely coupled. Individual interests take precedence of the general weal; domestic wants dwarf the spiritual; petitions for grace come side by side with solicita- tions for prosperity; and the prayer concludes with an ingenious 1856.] A illiorning at the Church of the Pilgrims. 51 medley of customary invocations, proverbial memorials, and familiar formularies, couched in such phrase, that the absence of originality is barely remarked in a diction with which origin- ality would struggle in vain. But the performance is not with- out its merits. If feeble in utterance its source is pure; if characterized by familiarity it is evidently sincere. Its quiet commencement doubtless summoned devotion to hearts that were more intent on a return to the request than on its zeal, and satisfaction attends the universal consciousness at its close, that what each would have preferred has been duly asked. As expectation is still seated on all countenances, you doubt whether the attraction of the day has yet appeared; and it is true that it has not. The uneasy motion of an audience set- tling to repose, agitates for a moment, and deep attention fixes every eye. Swaying figures grow erect in front, and from be- hind anxious faces incline to catch the coming words. Now he stands up, and his utterance is for all. Inert, as if some veteran of powers too often tested to challenge fame by show, he stands, and by an admirable indifference, secures the general interest. At seeming random he presents a text, the one most adapted to his hearersthe best suited to himself; and drawl- ingly rehearsing it, with an impromptu pause, languishes into relation with his hearers. Now flows smooth the current of his thoughts. From untrodden regions he presents unusual considerations, and hastens their pertinency by epigrammatic application. Then abandoning his position he moves with practised tread along the ways of familiar life, and enters upon scenes in the description of which he employs a thousand pre sent athies; and, armed with them, descends with ac- cumulate orce, from unexpected quarters, upon his theme. The minds, that at first, though baffled, yet continued their explorations, first glow with uncertain light, then flash with a sudden illuniination of the subject; others follow with faculties bewildered as if by the members of a riddle, and when most inclined to give it up, are startled into place again by a quiet solution of their doubts. The voice of the speaker has no at- tractive properties; it is not heedful, even of ordinary care; but adhering to the inner mouth or escaping through the pas- sages of the nose, whether it rises from one or descends from the other, its cadences are inaudible, and its modulations nasal. Yet, there are times, when, indignant at oppression or stirred against titled meanness, he escapes from his lethargy, and the full swelling tones of denunciation are in your ear, and the thunderer is before your eyes. These are the electrical 52 A Horning at the Church of the Pilgrims. [Jan., shocks of his sermon. The repose of the narrative is assailed, and sudden lightning reveals a landscape like Brulah, or an abyss like the valley of death. Now commences a scene un- paralleled in Christendom. An excitable mind has fired at thought of human wrong, and a genius of exquisite susceptibil- ity has stripped to the task of avenging justice. By a few master-strokes the criminal is denuded, and a storm of invec- tive beats upon the incarnate vice. Analogies fail, and com- parisons are useless in the deleviation of the sequel. Fast gathering epithets heap opprobriumsarcasm gleams with a lurid light from accumulating masses of ludicrous illustration ridicule blightssatire blastsand the prostrate enemy, crushed and helpless, receives from his inexorable victor, what sheer exhaustion has alone left himderision and contempt. The ocean in a storm were no inapt illustration of the congregation, the while. Eyes reflect each varying passion which incites the preacherrigid muscles and fixed features affirm his indigna- tionunrestrained satisfaction attends with decided -manifesta- tions every reverberating blow; and as pathos subdues, or raillery inflames, tears suffuse or laughter convulses the gene- ral countenance. Such is Henry Ward Beecher, the Divine simple in mannerpregnant in matter, and triumphant in effect. His congregation has been formed upon his model. The useful is their rule of life; and whether dignified by com- miseration of human woe they adorn the mart or, wriggling with the ministerial facetiousness of the pulpit they degrade the churchusefulness is their objectthe pursuit of which pre- serves them from buffoonery, and the accomplishment of which preserves them to respect. And so in this every-day life, where the laugh abounds will be found the joyous disciple of Beecher; and where wretchedness weeps will be gathered the hearts of his congregation. But a more careful measure is to be applied to the intellec- tual man. His mind, though nervous, is not of a high order. His thoughts do not expand outward synthetically, by gene- ralization, but penetrate inward by contraction and analysis. You vainly look for the symmetrical chain of cause and effect, forged at a heat, in Titanic stithy. Incomplete reasonings lodge uncomfortably in asthmatic sentences; broken images are hurled, confusedly, into paragraphs, like broken candypal- atable, to be sure, but broken. Disconnected thoughts chase each other in the routine of a kaleidoscope, and, with its bril- haney and fractional ideas, make experimental excursions, only to be withdrawn, and replaced by fractions of others, the rela 1856.] A Kornin~ at the Church of the Pilgrim~M. 53 tive parts of which are not yet born. He exemplifies the extreme of trituration of mind, and manifests its obvious advantages. He is sorely deficient in language. His vocabu- lary is limited not only, but so inopportune, that verbal neces- sities induce the use of barbarisms. It is this deficiency, per- haps, which accounts for his recourse to allegories. They frequent every part of his sermon. In the mid~t of an argu- ment, between consecutive sentences, and, sometimes, even intersecting one, the figure is seized and pursued with avidity. Though, by this means, his sermon becomes bizarre, yet it by no means loses its strength. Order is disregarded, but material is abundant. Method there is none; but each sen- tence has point, and everywhere, interspersed with maxims, proverbs, and quaint sayings, float gay images of holiday life, or sombre pictures of sadder hue. With all this, however, there is associated neither dignity of manner nor elevation of thought. Household objects suggest similes; daily occurrences furnish anecdote, and the thought which, at its induction, was worthy of the solemnity of the occasion, is soon overtaken by figures, wrenched into attitudes so grotesque or distorted to purposes so perverse, that gravity can be predicated as little by the minister as by the mountebank, and is observed as lit- tle by the congregation as by an audience of the Ethiopian Minstrels. Where burlesque is employed by the pulpit, and salvation is sought amid transports of fun, the scene is more dramatic than religious, and the disciple descends to the actor. And this were without redeeming features, did not an ever- present susceptibility of the goodness of God, unmistakably characterize the thoughts of the preacher, and chasten his con- ception, even at its utmost levity. It is when, forsaking his monotonous under-tone, he launches eye and voice upon a tempestuous sea, that the social affections sway, and the ten- derest emotions guide his utterance to the index of a warm and compassionate heart. Indeed, strong domestic attach- ments are the basis, not only of the character of the man, but of the energies which he displays. And so, families surround him. Children gather in fraternal groups, and the whole people sit in affiliating rows. All hearts are moved by the genius of the place, and when the affecting scripture is ren- dered in melody, over infants, at the baptismal font, Suffer lit- tle children to come unto me and forbid them not, the suffused eye seemingly sees how He took them np in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them. It would be difficult to conceive a power of describing 54 A Morning at the Church of the Pilgrims. [Jan., natural scenery less than that possessed by Mr. Beecher. His gulfs are all black, all his chasms yawning. His tempests have black jaws, as death has, and the coloring of his clouds is uniformly black. Whenever his imagery, in any degree, depends on natural phenomena, the same fault occurs. Famine he makes to suck up a harvest, and he stoutly calls on his hearers to hover over a thought. It were bet- ter with him had he more confidence in the native strength of the substantive. He seems to be unconscious of its inde. pendent power, and, frequently, a pure and sturdy Saxon noun is so encumbered with adjuncts that the idiom of the language is smothered in foreign importations. Adjectives he should dismiss, and, instead of transfixing every emotion with a descriptive epithet, it would be better were the task of de. scription to be relinquished to a simple statement of the emo- tion. Such are some of the Beecher peculiarities of manner and of style. But, above and beyond these, are the notable peculiarities of the man. It is quite a mistake to apply to the measure of his faculties either the graduated scale of verbal criticism or the conven- tional rules of a careful rhetoric. His contempt for both does not seemingly affect the despotic influence with which he sways the common mind, an influence secured by a compli- ance with none of the canons, but in opposition to them, and preserved not by a politic toleration of popular errors, but, by an uncompromising war upon them. It is not so much the principle which he condemns, as it is its representatives, whom he denounces. Error, to be sure, he explodes; but sin he attacks. Heresy he confounds by argu- ment, or pursues with reproaches; but unmeasured indigna- tion he heaps upon hypocrisy, and cant provokes his most potent ire. It can not be said, that he preaches religion; at least, that religion which recalls but to release, and reclaims but for a Sabbath, the sinner of the week. His business seems to be with man as he is, not as he has been, or is to be; not with him, only, as with principles starched as the occa- sional holiday suit in which he presents his Sunday side for a seven days lustration; but, with him, at all times, everywhere, in all his duties, habits, and pursuits. He evidently intends that his followers shall expect from him no transcendental splurges from stations in the clouds, but just the stated preaching of the Gospel, on Brooklyn Heights. Crusades he rejects from the artillery of the Church; for he abominates long journeys, in quest of regeneration. In his own phrase, 1856.] A .Mornimg at the Church of the Pilgrims. 55 he strives to make Christ usable, and, with suitable instruc- tions, prescribes Him for all occasions. An eccentric critic of the last age, surmised the chief pleasure of the angels to be in the exquisite sense of the ludicrous. Perhaps the evidence is not quite conclusive, that what was but conjecture, in the last age, is doctrine in this; but, whether addressed to the tastes of a spiritual or to those of an incarnate presence, cer- tain it is, that the humorous so abounds in the Church of the Pilgrims as to satisfy the drollest, whether of angels or men. Architectural simplicity he has studied, with an evident view to effect~ The vaulted roof; the stately pillar, the frieze and the entablature, ill accord with the trenchant sarcasm, the familiar raillery, the plain speech and secular manner of Mr. Beecher. He is purely a stump-preacher. His message is assumed to be derived immediately from heaven, and is delivered without intermission, to men. Pomp depresses, and ceremony disarms him. With the skies above, and the goodly earth ~bout him, he thunders as from a natural tribune. But, swathed in canonicals, and perched at a modern pulpits height, the vigor of the man would succumb to artifice, and grow torpid under the tyranny of form. A cathedral would be his coffinits gorgeous drapery the funeral trappings of his mental obse- quies. He is the man of his generation. Sixty years since, Henry Ward Beecher would have driven nails into the fabric of society; sixty years hence society will drive nails into him. He is doing the work of his generation, unprompted by the past, disconnected from the future. An able-bo~ied, energetic, intrepid man, inspired by benevolence and guided by reason, he batters down presumption and supports merit; strips hypocrisy and celebrates virtue, and so will he continue to the end, and be seen no more. The grief of friends, the commiseration of the good, the affliction of those whom he comforted, and the regrets of those whom he endowed, will more fittingly chant his re~juiescat in pace, and his memory will be interred with his bones. But, it is no light burden the work of a generation like ours. The greatest mind alone is inadequate to it. A heart of commensurate dimensions is required also; and even then, when faculties and feelings conspire, their product is as nothing if not fortified by physi- cal energy. At times when the world leaned upon science and rested upon discovery, speculation was the implement of progress. But philosophy is no longer a motive power; the student no longer the hero. Ours is the age of action. The knowledge of the past has been pressed into the service of the 56 A Aforning at the Church of the Pilgrim8. [Jan., present, and at a wonderful pace is modern invention urging society along. Mind, to be felt, must be moving. Brains, with~t legs, are useless. It is not the calibre of the ord- nance, but the impetus of the ball, that sends it crashing along the path of destiny. Of each department of every pur- suit, in all occupations, is this true, whether the Senate, the Bar, the Church. It is sad to reflect, that the upward of thought has been so utterly relinquished for its onwardsad to see that the onward of man is not necessarily his upward also. And yet, how necessary to duration is the True, a wiser than philosophy has taught; and that progress, without endurance, is vain, requires no philosophy to teach. The great practical lesson for this age yet to learn, is, that national security depends on national faith; not a subservience to dogmas and creeds, nor superstitious observance of fasts and ceremonies, but an intelligent apprehension of the inseparable relation between man and God, and of the impossibility of its violation without human disaster. Though this lesson is to be learned not altogether from the Church, yet there should it be earliest inculcated, and there its earliest rudiments be taught. A nobler work can not be conceivednor one in the achievement of which immortal honors can be more nobly won: not prosecuted by the feeble light of traditional faith, nor contracted to the feeble propor- tions of missal and ritual, but, expanding with the generous impulses of a just enthusiasm, emanating from conscious affi- nity with Deity, and guided by a reason equally divine. Republican France, by the introduction of Reason into her churches, became the atheistical Republic of the last century: it would be singular, indeed, were Republican America, by the exclusion of Reason from her churches, to become the atheisti- cal Republic of this. 1850.1 ilfaddalena. 57 MADDALENA. MOTHER! my breath grows shorterI scarce can whisper now; Dark shades weigh down mine eyelidsthe death-damps on my brow. I know that I am dying: yet not for that I moan But I must leave thee in the world, a widow and alone. Oh! weep not for me, mother: no sting is in the dart I go where theres oblivion for this poor broken heart. Tis hard to leave thee, mother; but oh! twere worse to stay, And see thee watch me, daily, wither and pine away. Hush! hush !you never scorned meyour breast was not defiled With sheltering sad caressing your sinful stricken child. God left you to me, mother, when he took all beside, To lead my erring spirit back to the Crucified. Through thy pale lips, my mother, He spoke those words to me, One heart on earth hath pardoned Neither condemn I thee. All through the shsineflil daylight, all through the sleepless night, I heard the angels whispering, I saw them clothed in white; They stood around thee, mother, to aid thee, by Gods grace, And gazed, like loving children, upon thy gentle face. Again I see them dimly, sad seem to hear them say That He who has forgiven, has sent for me away Sent his own holy angels for one so vile as I, To clothe me in white rsiment and bear me to the sky. Shed, then, no tear, my mother, though we so early part: I go where there is pardon for this poor broken heart. Hark !if you meet him, mother, tell him the love T gave Died not until this body was cold within the grave; Tell him that I forgave him my weary, wasted life, And prayed he might be happy with her he made his wife. Yet tell him not: the message might roll back memorys tide She never harmed me, motherI would not curse his bride. Hold me still closer to thee: all things are fading now, Except the holy angelsI saw one kiss thy brow. Let me, too, touch it, mother. It is not hard to die When such as these are waiting for sinner such as I I Joy, joy and hope, my mother: a little while we part, To meet where sin nor sorrow can come to break the heart. S. W. C.

S. W. C. C., S. W. Maddalena 57-58

1850.1 ilfaddalena. 57 MADDALENA. MOTHER! my breath grows shorterI scarce can whisper now; Dark shades weigh down mine eyelidsthe death-damps on my brow. I know that I am dying: yet not for that I moan But I must leave thee in the world, a widow and alone. Oh! weep not for me, mother: no sting is in the dart I go where theres oblivion for this poor broken heart. Tis hard to leave thee, mother; but oh! twere worse to stay, And see thee watch me, daily, wither and pine away. Hush! hush !you never scorned meyour breast was not defiled With sheltering sad caressing your sinful stricken child. God left you to me, mother, when he took all beside, To lead my erring spirit back to the Crucified. Through thy pale lips, my mother, He spoke those words to me, One heart on earth hath pardoned Neither condemn I thee. All through the shsineflil daylight, all through the sleepless night, I heard the angels whispering, I saw them clothed in white; They stood around thee, mother, to aid thee, by Gods grace, And gazed, like loving children, upon thy gentle face. Again I see them dimly, sad seem to hear them say That He who has forgiven, has sent for me away Sent his own holy angels for one so vile as I, To clothe me in white rsiment and bear me to the sky. Shed, then, no tear, my mother, though we so early part: I go where there is pardon for this poor broken heart. Hark !if you meet him, mother, tell him the love T gave Died not until this body was cold within the grave; Tell him that I forgave him my weary, wasted life, And prayed he might be happy with her he made his wife. Yet tell him not: the message might roll back memorys tide She never harmed me, motherI would not curse his bride. Hold me still closer to thee: all things are fading now, Except the holy angelsI saw one kiss thy brow. Let me, too, touch it, mother. It is not hard to die When such as these are waiting for sinner such as I I Joy, joy and hope, my mother: a little while we part, To meet where sin nor sorrow can come to break the heart. S. W. C. 58 The Chronicleg of Per~epoUs. [Jan., THE CHRONICLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE~ YEARS OF THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN~FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. BY MR. QUIGG. OHAPTKR FIRST. HOW I WYU~T I2~O THE OOTT~THY. SHORTLY after my admission to the bar, I committed the common imprudence of getting married. My practice never having been large enough to support me as a bachelor, the addition of a wife was one of those vrovi. dential arrangements which fit a man as Tom Callender s wig fitted his friend John Gilpin. What would not support one was, of course, a potential Cal- ifornia for two, and the possibilities. As I am about to withdraw the veil from five years of my life, it may, perhaps, be proper to mention at the outset that my name is Quigg, and that I have been distinguished, from my youth, by an amiable temper, severe industry, and a pro- found confidence in my fellow-men. In fact, if I ha4 ever possessed a fortune large enough to permit me to do good without serious personal inconvenience~ I flatter myself I should have been a distinguished philanthropist. Indeed the Quiggs have always been more or less distinguished. They are a very old, and exceedingly respectable family. My grandfather was a major in the militia, and my great- aunt Deborah married an alderman. I have been told, too1 that one of my ancestors wrote verses. But the family is very tender upon that head, and I could never learn his name. I believe it is not unusual for folk to commence a story at the wrong end. Most commence life at that place, and the story of a life or part of a life might naturally be expected to follow so general an example. I should have a very good apology to offer too; for in fact, from the first moment I aban- doned the limits of civilization, as comfortably walled around

Mr. Quigg Quigg, Mr. The Chronicles of Persepolis; or, Five Years of the Life of a Gentleman-Farmer in the Kingdom of New-Jersey 58-70

58 The Chronicleg of Per~epoUs. [Jan., THE CHRONICLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE~ YEARS OF THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN~FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. BY MR. QUIGG. OHAPTKR FIRST. HOW I WYU~T I2~O THE OOTT~THY. SHORTLY after my admission to the bar, I committed the common imprudence of getting married. My practice never having been large enough to support me as a bachelor, the addition of a wife was one of those vrovi. dential arrangements which fit a man as Tom Callender s wig fitted his friend John Gilpin. What would not support one was, of course, a potential Cal- ifornia for two, and the possibilities. As I am about to withdraw the veil from five years of my life, it may, perhaps, be proper to mention at the outset that my name is Quigg, and that I have been distinguished, from my youth, by an amiable temper, severe industry, and a pro- found confidence in my fellow-men. In fact, if I ha4 ever possessed a fortune large enough to permit me to do good without serious personal inconvenience~ I flatter myself I should have been a distinguished philanthropist. Indeed the Quiggs have always been more or less distinguished. They are a very old, and exceedingly respectable family. My grandfather was a major in the militia, and my great- aunt Deborah married an alderman. I have been told, too1 that one of my ancestors wrote verses. But the family is very tender upon that head, and I could never learn his name. I believe it is not unusual for folk to commence a story at the wrong end. Most commence life at that place, and the story of a life or part of a life might naturally be expected to follow so general an example. I should have a very good apology to offer too; for in fact, from the first moment I aban- doned the limits of civilization, as comfortably walled around 1856.] The Ch~onides of Per8e2olis. 59 by the boundaries of city life, I have never been exactly cer~ tam which end was foremost. However, I have begun at the beginning, and will endeavor to preserve in some sort the natural order of those remarkable events which I am about to relate. My name you are already acquainted with. I have, there. fore, only to inform you that, to the best of my information and belief, I am the son of my father. My parents were good and happy people; happier in nothing, however, as will be readily admitted, than in having so excellent a son as myself. This brief account of my birth, parentage, and early educa- tion, ought, I think, to entitle me to the entire confidence of my readers. By way of securing me in honest and virtuous courses, my revered parents determined that I should be bred to the law. If they could have made the law bread to me, they would have done a better thing. The summer before I was married, I was taken with the afflicting distemper which usually results in that species of moral suicide. I fell in love: deeply, terribly.over head and ears in love. The great distance one has to fall into that abyss, the rapid- ity of the descent, and the severe shock sustained, make it quite a miracle how any survive the accident. Death, however, seldom intervenes. A brain.fever is usually the worst of the consequences. In the summer of 184, then, I, Clarkson Quigg, Esq., at- torney at law and solicitor in chancery, fell in love. It was a violent attack. The faculty gave me up, and my best friends considered my case hopeless. Early in the month of July the object of my pious adoration went up the Hudson River to spend the summer. Of course I went with her. A sultry summer-day; a crowded steamer; the glorious Hudson. Solitude in the crowd. Alone with the goddess of my dreams. Seductive picture! We talked sentiment beneath the Palisades. Our souls were elevated to a heavenly communion by the grandeur of Antho- nys Nose. Ah! if Providence had only granted us, at that moment, a small boat all alone by ourselves, a faithful dog, and a German flute, together with a guitar for my divine Julia, the mea- sure of our earthly felicity had been full. Wanting, however, those sublime accessories, we nourished our young romance of 60 The Chronicle8 of Per8epolis. [Jan., passion with the fuel of imagination, and got as far away from reality and common-sense as the most exacting novelist could reasonably require from two people in our situation. It was, however, the place, that old house among the trees where we soj ourned all thosesunny days of summer-time which finished us; quenched the last lingering spark of worldly wis- dom, and fooled us into marriage. There were mothers, sisters, brothers, cousins there with us. But I will not linger over them. That sort of people are always in the way of lovers; always just where they are not wanted. I leave them, as I wished oftentimes they would leave mealone; since I am not engaged in recalling the sor- row of that time, but the sweet infatuation of our youthful ecstasy of love. About four miles north of Hyde Park then, and on the banks of the Hudson, was the scene of those events which gave a color to all the after-purpose of our lives. A Wide lane led up to the house from the Old French road On either side the lane towering giant-like in the air, rose up some of the finest locust trees I have ever seen. Be- fore the house especially, were five of enormous size, and so old the oldest neighbors said they were great trees in their childhood, and were probably remains of the original forest which there bordered the river. The house itself was a long, narrow, one-story-and-a-half Dutch mansion of the olden time of New-York. Quaint and comfortable, it squatted behind its trees, and as the smoke rose up from its chimney, seemed like a comfortable old broad- sterned burgher seated in his bowerie The eaves came down at the back of the house almost to the ground, and in front a broad piazza stretched its comfortable length. A lovely reach of meadow-land lay behind, the house,through which a brook made its way wit h many strange twists and windings. This brook came down by way of a rocky hill which lay a little to the south, and formed in its descent a hundred tiny cascades. Amongst these were some very pic- turesque; and from the summit of the rocky elevation a single waterfall, worthy of the name, took its first leap of some twenty feet downwards to the valley. When a storm came to swell the brook, the waterfall could be heard at the house; and, in- deed, at such times it made quite a grand and imposing figure, and lifted up its variable voice almost to the roar of a cat- aract. A succession of rude steps in the rocks, partly natural, 1856.] The Chronicles of Persepolis. 61 partly the work of man, led up the hill by the brookside till at the last step you came suddenly upon the sweetest possible little lake lying, like a forest mirror, framed among the old trees, and reflecting the fantastic shadows of the moving clouds from its waveless surface. Here, here, we, alas !we, Julia and myself; used to sit the livelong summers day, and indulge in choice selections from the British poets. How every tender passage, every soft quotation took a particular and touching application, and re- ceived an eloquent commentary from the language of the eyes, do ye not know, 0 lovers? The shadows of the forest were around us. The sunlight glinted through. The lake lay at our feet, reflecting tremu- lously the fleecy clouds as they sailed across the sky like ships upon the sea. The trees above spread their broad green arms, and the little leaves clapped their hands. The birds, loving fools like ourselves, twittered and giggled with mischie- vous delight to see us getting into the impracticable labyrinth of love, and rushing madly into the jaws of the Minotaur of matrimony. And why do I relate these things? Why do I mention the lake, the forest, the old Dutch farm-house? Alas! it is because having been so happy there, all our fondest memories and brightest fancies became foolishly and fatally connected with the idea of a country life. The country alone would satisfy us. There the sky was bluest. There the birds sang sweetest. There the very silence was eloquent, as with the tongues of angels. The calm and quiet of the soul had there its birth. Love was cradled there, and lay so sweet all canopied with bowers. The day-spring of the soul, the hearts sunrise, and the opening gates of Paradise, with all that lies beyond the mornings doors where, paved with sunbeams, to eternal bliss the road leads on for everallall commenced with babblings of green fields. That road, in ecstasy of hope and loving prophecy of endless joys succeeding, we were to tread down to a remote old age; and always travel it by way of th~ rural districts. And we tried it; poor deluded creatures. All that thing began up there; or, rather, all those three thingsmoonshine, matrimony, and a country life. It began up there. Up in the country. Up by the water- fall. Up by the lake upon the mountain-top. Further up stillin the morning clouds, the sunny, misty, rosy morning clouds of youth and love. 62 The C.4ronicle8 of PereepoZie. [Tan., Therefore we determined to be married, and as soon as pos- sible afterwards to move into the country. We resolved to retire from the horrid city, to leave that place of crime, cram, conventionalities, frippery, and falsehood, and go away to the paradisaical peace and purity of the country. CHAPTE1~ SNOO~D. EXODUS. SUMMER went. Autumn came. The leaves grew red. We were as green as ever. We were married. I had a terrible head-ache the next morning. My brother. in-law was indelicate enough to refer to the arrack.punch of the bridal evening; but, I felt convinced that it was nothing but nervous susceptibility. Our first season in town was as brilliant as our prospects were gloomy; and, by spring, rich in all the new polkas, but terribly low in cash, we began to think seriously of the future. Hoyle says: When you are in doubt, play trumps. Now, the country is the ver~y ace of trumps, for all new-mar- ried folks, whose tastes, habits, and antecedents are at war with the state of their finances. Added to this was the memory of that little garden of bliss, where we had passed the summer preceding our espousals. Of course I bought a farm. To the character of a landed proprietor, I proposed adding my professional one, and tilling the rt~gged soil of law, as well as the arable land of agriculture. Coke and Selden, Wirt and Emmet, Story and Webster were beautifully mixed up, in my imagination, with wheat and ruta-bagas, compost and sum- mer-fallow. I proposed opening, for my neighbors, a new vista, through which their astonished gaze should be directed to unheard-of triumphs, in the art of farming; whilst, at the same time, they were to be ,charmed, in the county court, out of their usual stolidity, by the magic of my eloquence. I fore- saw much profit, and great fame from this combination of industrial and testhetic effort. How I succeeded in the practice of the law, I shall relate in another chapter, in which will be found a full report of the great case of Bivins vs. Smithers. I very soon heard of a placea charming farm, near the 1856j The Chronicles of Persepolis. 63 thriving village of Persepolis, in the kingdom of New- Jersey. I went to see it. The manner of travel was by a railroad, laid with the flat rail; which is a flat bar of iron spiked upon strips of wood. These bars frequently curl up before the wheels, and shoot through the cars with the velocity of a musket-ball. The chances, therefore, of being pinned to the roof of the car, like a specimen beetle, afforded an agreeable variety to the usual dullness of railroad travel. I reached the place. It was springthe month of April. The mud was two feet deep; and such mud, a dirty red, every touch of which stained like red paint. II had nothing to wear but a pair of patent-leather boots; and, so accoutred, started at sunrisethe first sunrise I ever recollect to have seen. And if that was a fair specimen of the luminary, at that unchristian hour, II am free to confess, I have no desire ever to attend his lever a second time. We walked over the farm. I thought I must follow, because a great fellow in cowhide boots, led the way, and I was ashamed to play cockney, and back out. My inspection of the farm and my patent-leathers, finished about the same time, and my first purchase, in the village of Persepolis, was a pair of high lows, to return to the city in. On my return, a deluge of questions awaited me; all, how- ever tending to this: Was I not delighted with the farm? Of course I was. We had, all of us, made up our minds, before- hand, to be delighted with it, and I was not going to show the white feather first. But a mere assent would not do. I must go into ectasies, to please them, and I went into ectasies. I represented it as a paradise; as the magic garden of Solomon, which Shedaud the Sultan saw, and the splendor of which surpassed that of Eden. The Gardens of GulI think I com- pared it to those; certainly, I should have done sowere nothing to it; and it only awaited my darling little wife, to play the Eve there, to bring back Eden to a work-day world. The papers signed, sealed, and delivered, which constituted us landed proprietors, we boxed the furniture, and embarked upon the Central Snake-Head l~ailroad, for Persepolis the new. It was the first day of April. Dii avertite omen I The day was one of those spring days, half-oppressive, half-chilly. You sweltered in the sunshine, and froze in the shade. A cold dinner, at the County Hotel, did little to revive our drooping spirits. But all were on tip-tQe as soon as dinner 64 like Ckronicle8 of Persepolis. [Jan., was over, to look out for the new carriage, our new carriage, a miracle of coach building, a rockaway, with an aqua marine colored body and silver mountings. Directly, a farm-wagon, drawn by a pair of hQrses which I recognized as mine, drove up to the door, at which, in too brief a time, Tom Steele, the coachman, appeared, to announce to the ladies that he had come to take them up to the house. The stupid rascal, the lazy rascal, had brought the farm- wagon, to keep from muddying the carriage. They gazed, but who shall paint that gaze? Not I: it was enough to see it. There was no help for it, howeVer. It was getting late, and into the wagon we all bundledtwo gentlemen, three ladies and four servants. All Persepolis was at the windows and doors, to see us pass, on our way to Rouge- mont for so we had christened our mansion, from its situ- ation upon the top of a red-shale hill. We reached it, at last, under a severe fire of sighs and groans, mingled with an occasional exclamation, from the male members of the family, the reverse of pious. The exterior of our house I shall, perhaps, hereafter describe. But, at that moment, we thought only of the interior, and our thoughts were not all, happy. Built by a queer old bachelor who had no more notion of convenience than one of his horses, that interior signally failed to realize the promise of the rather pompous exterior, with its pillars, porticoes, and other archi- tectural frippery. In fact, it consisted of a kitchen, wash-room, dairy, a use- lessly large hall, two parlors of the same size, and six chambers of different sizes. From the ball, doors opened into every thing; so that every point of the compass was represented by a crack, and, like John Gordon Notts renowned castle, there was not a room which was not a rheumatic. The principal chamber was large enough for a theatre, and the parlors were barns. That night we slept upon our arms. Worn out with pulling and hauling; searching for every thing, and finding nothing, we slept where we fell, and woke, next morning, to struggle again, amid the general wreck. Crates, barrels, boxes, trunks, and hampers formed pyramids of terror in every room. Boxed sofas and pianos; chairs, curiously bandaged about the legs, like beggars, with rags and straw; half-opened packages, and crockery, in perilous places, all lay strewn in most admired disorder and discomfort. And so, feeding, for the most part, upon cold bread and 1856.] The Chr~rnicles of Persepolis. 65 meat, we gradually emerged from chaos into that state of semi- purgatory which ensues upon the putting up of bedsteads and putting down of carpets, miscalled putting to rights. But I will not dwell upon the horrors of that first month. With the succinctness of a diary, I will sketch our first year in country-quarters. At seven AM. we breakfasted. At twelve we dined, and at eight P.M. we went to bed, thoroughly tired of Rouge- mont, the country generally, ourselves in particular, and all the world at once. Let me recall the principal events of that dismal year, events, however trifling in themselves, huge and well-defined as snow-crowned mountains to us. First the breakfast-table was injured in its legs by the jour. ney. Bullfinch, our dog insisted upon crossing beneath it, instead of going around it as any well-bred dog would have had the sense to do. Bullfinch knocked out the lame leg as a matter of course, and down came the table. Coffee-pot went into mother-in-laws lap, hot water into mine. Wife with divided interest grabbed at mother with one hand, and hus- band with the other, which naturally brought us all in a sin- gularly mixed condition on top of the table. Total destruc- tion of chany, and a curtain lecture on doo-s. Second. Bought forty hens with the place. At least they were represented to me by the owner as the female of the do- mestic fowl. But to save our lives we can not find more than two eggs for breakfast. Two eggs among five of us. Not much to crow over there. Old Tom Steele, our coachman, a very fine, reverend, sensi- ble old nigger he appears to be too; says the hens steal their nests. Very likely, or else what becomes of the eggs? Forty hens must lay more than two eggs a day. And in so respect- able a neighborhood as ours it can not be possible that any body interferes with our hen-roost. Old Tom, who is as great a hunter as he is pious and trust- worthy, says, however, that there are a great many coons about. Its mos adiculous, says that dusky philosopher, how fond dem varmink be of egg. Eat all he see. I should like to catch a varmint at it. Decidedly we must have a coon-hunt, and also search for the stolen nests immediately. This becomes the more necessary as the scarcity of eggs has given rise to serious discontent in the family. The woman folk have even indulged in some ex- 5 66 The Chronicles of Persepolis. [Jam7 ceedingly foolish insinuations, as for instances that there are two-legged coons about. Just as if any one ever heard of a twoiegged coon. Bought a barrel of cider. No lock to the cellamdoor, but consider it perfectly safe. Tom Steele, and Judy the cook, being, from their conversation, very high-toned temperance people. I coukint even induce either of them so much as to taste it,in order to give an opinion of its quality. Opened, at his solicitation, an account with Mr. Vandelars, thc grocer. Custom, and the cultivation of neighborly relationship, being much more an object with him than cash. Really, the people of this place seem exceedingly kind. Mr. Gulf, the blacksmith, also desires my custom. He don1t care when I pay him! Has then the golden age returned? are we in Arcady the blest? And does it find its first development in the kingdom of New-Jerseys and village of Persepolis? After a day or two, Sam Bivins the butcher, found ns. Bought lamb. Bivins did not seem to have a great variety. Our leg and another were all he had to stand upon. Prom- ised us beeg however, in a few days, as Mr. Dyscamp, our next neighbor, is going to kill a beef, and had promised him a quarter. Gradual improvement in the poultry. Three eggs for breakfast. At this rate we shall get on finely. An increase of one egg a week, will be more than four dozen in a year, and we shall have more than we know what to do with. Four hens, however, reported missing. That excellent col- ored person, Tom Steele, says he met them last night in the woods, and has no doubt they have made their nests in the trees, Cos dar wing was not clipped. Widow Vanstyne has a little farm back of ours. Her son, a fine ingenuous youth, came up the other morning and brought with him two strange-looking little birds. They had very long beaks, made a queer caw-cawing noise unlike fowls in general, and were entirely without feathers. Archie Yanstyne says his mother heard we had trouble with our hens, and sent him over with these. They belong to a remarkable species, and are called the Chinese fowl. Archie did not know whether they were Shanghais or not; but was certain they crowed wonderfal. The good woman has only four herselg and it is very kind in her to let us have half. I gave Archie therefore two dollars apiece for them. They 1856.] The Chronicles of .Persepolis. 67 say this kind of fowl are remarkable layers; so if we only get them along, we shall have no more trouble about eggs. One comfort at least we have, and that is Judy the cook. She is a perfect household treasure. An excellent plain cook, and one of the soberest and most moral persons in the world. I am sorry to say Judy has appeared quite unwell for several days. That venerable negro, also~ Tom Steele, is decidedly under the weatheix Both complain of much pain in the head, and occasional sickness at the stomach. I suggested a little stimu- lus to both, but they repulsed the idea of liquor with virtuous horror. To-day cooks indisposition increased to such an alarming degree that she had to go to bed, and my dear wife had to~ commence her housekeeping in reality bycooking dinner. We ate it; ahem! And really, considering it was the first leg of lamb she had ever seen in its natural state, and the first potatoes to which she had been introduced in the condition of natives, it was a remarkable dinner. Tom Steele, that respectable, pious, ancient colored, person, was unaccountably absent all day. Rained cats and dogs. Mud six inches deep, and of the consistency of glue. No Tom Steele; no body to do any thing. Begun my agricultural experiences in earnest, by milk. ing the cows, an operation which, I regret to say, did not re- sult in a flattering success. The old fools would not stand still a minute. I got on the right side, and cried, mooly; mooly; shew, shoo now 1 all the time; but they only frisked their tails and kicked up their heels the more, the more I halloed to them, till I was obliged to give up the milking as a bad job; and content myself with feeding and bedding down the cat- tle, and locking up the chicken-coop. No Tom Steele to be seen yet. Towards nightfall, Judy came down stairs, and went about her work in a very strange, wild manner. Directly she went into the cellar; and upon her return, her eyes rolled terribly. Indeed, she barely reached the kitchen, when she fell upon the floor. Rushed to her assistance; and endeavored to learn what ailed her; but could get no other answer than 0 my head! 0 my head! My wife suggested brain-fever; and all the women were urgent to have the doctor sent for. Brother-in-law, Tom, and 68 like Chronicles of Persepolis. [Jan., I helped the sufferer up stairs. As we came down, Tom whis- pered: Drunk as the 1 And it was so. Heaven shuts the nose at it and the moon winks. Judy drunk! My confidence in humanity is becom- ing undermined. Next morning Caleb Shultz, a near neighbor, and testy old bachelor, called over. I took him to see my Chinese fowls, and described the singular properties of the breed. Caleb eyed me for some time with a puzzled air. Chinese fdwls ! said Caleb From the Central Flowery Land, said I. Shanghais 1 said Caleb. Wonderful birds, said I. Calebs face flushed. I did not like to remark it, thinking he might be subject to rush of blood to the head. His cheeks began to swell. He clenched his fist, squared himself, took a firm stand, and looked~at me with a terrible eye. Whats the matter ? said I soothingly. Matter enough, sir, sputtered Caleb. Do you take me for a fool ? My dear sir Do you think Im a natural-born idiot, sir ? I upon my word, I dont understand you. I should think not, roared Caleb. What the do you mean then, sir, by trying to sell me with your infernal Chinese fowls ? Really, said I, now quite beside myself, I have no de- sire to sell you, nor the fowls. Ihave just bought them at two dollars apiece, and consider them a great bargain. Oh! you do, do you ? cried Caleb with a diabolical sneer. Now Mr. Quigg, you may think yourself a very smart man; and maybe you are. But it will take more than a ~ York lawyer, Mr. Clarkson Quigg, to make us believe that two young crows are a pair of Chinese fowls. Crows 1 said I innocently, who was talking of crows Who was ? echoed Caleb, sardonically. Why, sir, I was. Your Chinese fowls are a couple of unfledged crows, sir. And the next time you wish to try a saw on a Jerseyman, try it with something beside crows, sir. And away stalked Caleb with indignant strides. I looked after him sadly for a moment; then I put my hands under my coat-tails, and, for the space of half an hour I ceased not to gaze upon the Chinese fowls. 1856.] Tke C~4ronicle8 of Persejjolis. 69 It was a fact. I saw it now. I heard it in their caw. They were crows, two crows, two little crows, crow all over; nothing but crow! I dont think I looked any body straight in the face for a week after that little development in natural history. The neighbors call occasionally; quite as often, it seems to me, as they are wanted. The carpets are just put down. The furniture and every thing is in apple-pie order. Of course every body who comes leaves a legacy of red mud behind them. A figure, seen in the distance, instantly takes the shape of one of Carlyles Mud Demons, and fervent prayers are offered that it may be providentially directed anywheres else but to those new carpets. In addition to the legacy of mud, every visitor has left us a new bequest of distrust in humanity. Each has favored us with a full, true, and particular account of his or her predeces- sor. The profoundest secresy is enjoined by each. But really I begin to think s~cresy would be criminal. My hair stands on end with horror. Mrs. Nfrelinghorst, it appears, has had two husbands, and no body knows what became of the first. Mr. 1W., the second, died suddenly, and it is thought lucky for the widow that there was no post-mortem examination of the body. The three Miss Vendersucers are old maids. What they said, Heaven forbid I should repeat; but if the half of it be true, the number of children in this county who are not wise enough to know their own fathers, is shocking to contem- plate. Mrs. Armendorif, another very pleasant and lady-like women, according to Miss Aurelia Crammins account, is a disgrace to her sex, and a terrible story of maternal vengeance, which I may hereafter relate, confirms the fact. The hero was her own son; the heroine a beautiful Creole girl, who awakened the jealousy and pride of the mother, and drew upon herself a vengeance unsurpassed in the annals of female cruelty. Amongst other things, have learned that all Persepolis knows who I am. Persepolis has discovered that I am a Jew. Why? Because I am guilty of an unshaven chin, and guiltier still in a moustache. Quigg is a good name, it is said; but if mine be not Abrahams, or Levy, theres no truth in beards. What a delightful place. Went into the cellar to draw a little cider. Found the faucet turned and all the cider run out. Heard a groan from onc~ love in Absence. [Jan., corner. Began to feel queer. Fancied the house might be haunted, and the spirits partial to eider. Another groan. Gathered courage to investigate, and found, actually found Tom Steele, that fine, reverend, pious, temper- ate, and philosophical colored man, that veritable Uncl~ Tom, lying dead drunk in the corner. The stupendous scoundrel had turned the faucet, clapped his mbuth to it, and let the cider run down his throat till he was literally filledlike a demijohn. Beside him stood his hat. Something white glittered in it. Looked, and, found it half-full ofeggs. Discovered upon inquiry in the village that we had supplied one store with that article for several weeks, and that IT, Clarkson Quigg, Esq., was debited against the eggs with seventy.two quarts of bad rum. And what adds venom to the injury, is that all Persepolis turns up its nose and insists that the story of Tom Steele is a fiction, and that I drank the rum! Tom and Judy, I am happy to say, expiated their sins by a fit of the delicious triangles, and having been summarily ejected from the premises, have been replaced by white folk. A thousand similar occurrences took place during our first year; but I will not trouble the reader with their rehearsal. More stirring scenes, and events of larger issue, indeed, speedily drove them from our memories. LOYE IN ABSENCE. I WOULD I were a sunbeam, that I might depart the skies When first the light of risen day Upon thy pillow lies, And, lingering, kiss with gentle touch Thy seal6d eyes. I would I were the breath of morn, That I might early bear The sweetness of the violet Unto the chamber, where Thou sleepest, and might fan thy brow With perfumed air.

Love in Absence 70-71

love in Absence. [Jan., corner. Began to feel queer. Fancied the house might be haunted, and the spirits partial to eider. Another groan. Gathered courage to investigate, and found, actually found Tom Steele, that fine, reverend, pious, temper- ate, and philosophical colored man, that veritable Uncl~ Tom, lying dead drunk in the corner. The stupendous scoundrel had turned the faucet, clapped his mbuth to it, and let the cider run down his throat till he was literally filledlike a demijohn. Beside him stood his hat. Something white glittered in it. Looked, and, found it half-full ofeggs. Discovered upon inquiry in the village that we had supplied one store with that article for several weeks, and that IT, Clarkson Quigg, Esq., was debited against the eggs with seventy.two quarts of bad rum. And what adds venom to the injury, is that all Persepolis turns up its nose and insists that the story of Tom Steele is a fiction, and that I drank the rum! Tom and Judy, I am happy to say, expiated their sins by a fit of the delicious triangles, and having been summarily ejected from the premises, have been replaced by white folk. A thousand similar occurrences took place during our first year; but I will not trouble the reader with their rehearsal. More stirring scenes, and events of larger issue, indeed, speedily drove them from our memories. LOYE IN ABSENCE. I WOULD I were a sunbeam, that I might depart the skies When first the light of risen day Upon thy pillow lies, And, lingering, kiss with gentle touch Thy seal6d eyes. I would I were the breath of morn, That I might early bear The sweetness of the violet Unto the chamber, where Thou sleepest, and might fan thy brow With perfumed air. 1856.1 Roberto C~or8zn~. 74 ROBERTO CORSINI. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH FOR THE DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. EVERY Monday, according to immemorial usage, the tables were set out in the principal apartment of the palace; and, by the light of crystal Venetian girandoles, in the midst of pro- found attention, the play went on. Politics was excluded from the noble assembly. Of religion they spoke no more than if such a thing had been unknown to them. Play absorbed every thing. It was Monday night. For two hours nothing had been heard but the rattling of the cards, when Signor Roberto Cor- sini rose quickly and strode up to a table, which was covered with piles of gold and bank-notes. My lord, said he, to one of the players, put up two hundred pistoles for me. Im not in luck, and it is my last stake. The two hundred pistoles rolled out upon the table. In two turns of the cards, the money of Corsini, and of the player on whom he betted, was in their adversarys hands. The player who had lost rose, and politely offered to yield Corsini his place. He accepted, and his first bet was two thousand sequins. My lord Doria, said he, let us see if chance always favors you. The proverb says, You are happier at play than in love. My Lord Corsini, it is scarcely generous in you to remind me, that, in a few days, you are about to marry my cousin Aglaura. You have pleased her. It is well. She has pre- ferred you to me. That is marvellousbutclubs I did not mean to wound you. I have no clubs. Then the stake is mine.~~ Two thousand sequinsthey are yours. I go you twenty thousand, now. That is nearly the value of the ear-rings I mean to buy for Aglaura. Aglaura again. The kingyou have lost again, Signor Corsini. Do you wish to stop ? I am not in the habit of stopping when I lose. Recoil before such a trifling check? Pooh! Fifty thousand.

Roberto Corsini. Translated from the French for the Democratic Review 71-77

1856.1 Roberto C~or8zn~. 74 ROBERTO CORSINI. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH FOR THE DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. EVERY Monday, according to immemorial usage, the tables were set out in the principal apartment of the palace; and, by the light of crystal Venetian girandoles, in the midst of pro- found attention, the play went on. Politics was excluded from the noble assembly. Of religion they spoke no more than if such a thing had been unknown to them. Play absorbed every thing. It was Monday night. For two hours nothing had been heard but the rattling of the cards, when Signor Roberto Cor- sini rose quickly and strode up to a table, which was covered with piles of gold and bank-notes. My lord, said he, to one of the players, put up two hundred pistoles for me. Im not in luck, and it is my last stake. The two hundred pistoles rolled out upon the table. In two turns of the cards, the money of Corsini, and of the player on whom he betted, was in their adversarys hands. The player who had lost rose, and politely offered to yield Corsini his place. He accepted, and his first bet was two thousand sequins. My lord Doria, said he, let us see if chance always favors you. The proverb says, You are happier at play than in love. My Lord Corsini, it is scarcely generous in you to remind me, that, in a few days, you are about to marry my cousin Aglaura. You have pleased her. It is well. She has pre- ferred you to me. That is marvellousbutclubs I did not mean to wound you. I have no clubs. Then the stake is mine.~~ Two thousand sequinsthey are yours. I go you twenty thousand, now. That is nearly the value of the ear-rings I mean to buy for Aglaura. Aglaura again. The kingyou have lost again, Signor Corsini. Do you wish to stop ? I am not in the habit of stopping when I lose. Recoil before such a trifling check? Pooh! Fifty thousand. 72 Ji?o6erto COr8rni. [Jan., Fifty thousand. Be it so The enunciation of this sum, made in a loud voice, attracted the attention of the other players, and they arose, koth men and women, and placed themselves in a circle silently around Roberto Corsini and Doria. You are wrong, Signor Doria, to hesitate an instant, when I offer to bet fifty thousand sequins. Do you not know, my palace is worth as much as yours ?my villa of Camaldoli, as much as your vineyards of Carrara ?and my credit equal to what we play for ? - Signor Corsini. Your ill-humor puts a wrong construc- tion upon my words, as well as upon my silence. Be it so. Let us play. Your fifty thousand sequins are mine.~~ Yes- but my villa of Camaldoli may represent two hun- dred thousand. Here are the title-deeds of it. Go on; let us play for the Villa of Camaldoli. We will stop, when I have played two hufidred thousand sequins against it. Yes; a thousand times, yes. Go on. The Villa of Camaldoli is mine.~~ The cards are infamous; the devil made them; the fire of hell colored them. But will you leave your victory half finished? You have thevilla; but I still possess my palace, that of my ancestors. It is second only to the Pitti, as you know. Marbles and pictures worth nearly a million! I offer you the chance for it. And I accept.. Very well, then. Double or quits. What you have won against the palace ? The cards were distributed, and, in three turns, the luck which ran so violently against Corsini, finished as it had begun. Without a change of color or a complaint, he laid upon the green table, the golden key of his palace, and opened for himself a passage through a crowd, terrified by the blow which left him landless and penniless. No one dared to stop him. Again, however, . he returned, and, leaning down, whis- pered, with evident emotion, to Doria. The latter made a sign of acquiescence, and the cards were resumed. Are you the devil that you always win ? I have proved the contrary, Signor Corsini, since the devil has no fancy for women, and I have just won from you your mistress, your betrothedshe whom you were to marry so soon ! You are a coward to say it. 1856.] Roberto cor8~n~. 73 And you are a hundred times a coward to have staked her. A glaura! his betrothed, the oniy daughter of Cavalcati, bet her away. Holy Virgin 1 cried all the ladies present, in accents of anger. Silence! and hear me, cried the gamester. I, Roberto Corsini, descended from the most illustrious ancestry of Italy; I, who have had among them a Governor of Trieste; a con- queror at the Battle of Lepanto; two consecrated IDoges of Venice, in the fifteenth century; who still proudly count Podestas and Gonfalioneers of Florence, Roberto Corsini, lord of Camaldoli, I repeat, II stake my name. His name ! cried the cavaliers, with a burst of laughter. His name It is well worth, I think, he continued, smiling bitterly, some thousand acres of vines, in Carrara; and the glory which accompanies it, my lord Doria, is not worth less than the sum it pleases you to fix. I stake my name. If I lose, my lord, I consent never to be named again whilst I live. It is a fine treasure, that name of mine. It is inscribed in the book of life; it is traced in letters of gold, upon the register of Venice; it is written in every glorious memory of Etruria. If I lose, I agree that it shall be erased from all. By our name, in the day of judgment, the archangel calls us from the tomb. It is the key of heaven and hell. Do you understand, now, what I risk? For the last time, at what will you value it. Quick ? I value it too highly to fix a value. If I gain, it will belong to me. If I lose, you shall fix it yourself. Place yourself there, then. And the two players made the sign of the cross. Whilst they shuffled the cards, the company, by a common impulse of ter- ror, abandoned the hall and left them alone with each other. Midnight struck. A cry rose upon the night I am damned. And a man went out by the gate of St. Paolo. He sat down at the foot of a dry tree, and leaned his head upon his hands and wept. 0 my Villa of Camaldoli, where the fruits were so beauti- ful; my palace; my Aglaura; my namelostlostall lost. Could I but force it, sword in hand, from Doria; trace it up- on the sand; read it when twas writ, or even halloo it to this solitude. But no. I have gambled it away. I have stripped myself of the right or power to resume it. The law of play Roberto Uor8ini. [Jan., has taken it from me, and debts of honor are sacred. The world is ashamed of me. It denies the apostate who has denied himself. I am viler in its eyes than the vilest pagan. 0 helplessness! 0 misery! The very demons refuse me; for even they have a name in the creation. Satan, Satan! I call on thee.~~ The blush of day tinged the horizon. A band of young girls passed him. Will you buy a rose, of Marta; a sprig of jessamine, from Gloria; or Despair! They have each a name. He left the young. girls, and ran, like a madman across the fields, crying: Marta, Enigma, Gloria! all have a name, butl have none. He knocked at the door of a convent. A monk appeared. Brother, he said; I wish to be baptized. You come early. My safety demands it. Are you a Jew?No! A Turk?No! A Manichean? a Protestant ? No, no! I was born in the bosom of the Holy Catholic Apostolic and Roman Church. What, then, is it you ask ? To be a second time baptized. The Council of rrrebizonde has forbidden it. But I have lost my name.~~ Find it again. The angelus sounds. God help you. The door of the convent was closed. Baptism is refused me. I am no longer a Christian. Divine pity! For me no Christmas, no Easter, no Pentecost, no candle of the Virgin of Carmel, when I am.sick; no word of priest to console me on my deserted couch ! He entered a village, which was upon the domain of his sis- ter the IDutchess of Paglia. The cur6 said to him: Good morning, Signor Roberto Corsini. His nurse called from the window: Good morn- ing, Corsini. The villagers cried out: Long live Signor Corsini. He answered neither cur6, nor nnrse, nor villagers. I have no name, he muttered, and rushed away like an evil spirit which some priest has exorcised. Yasssal and mendicant and robber scorned the man without a name. He attempted to join a band of brigands. Who are you ? said the chief. The enemy of men.~~ You are our friend. What do you desire ? 1856.] Roberto Cors~n~. 75 To carry misery and desolation into families; to live upon the highway; to follow you to pillage or the gibbet; to win my bread with my dagger. Your name I have none. You can not be of our band. You would bring misfortune upon brave men, and the saints would abandon us, if we received you. Depart 1 A little while after this, he learnt that Doria, who, chang- ing his name for that of Corsini, had continued to bear the latter~ was overwhelmed with debt, and drawn, as it were, upon the hurdle of an infamous renownin a word, disho- nored. He was a fraudulent bankrupt. He learned, that Doria had been a prisoner in the Galleys of Cattaro, for cheat- ing at cards, and had escaped. Corsini had been cheated of his palace, his mistress, and his name. Whatever he was; what would he not give to see him? Six months he wandered about, night and day, hopeless. Still, he clung to life; he durst not kill himself. At last, he resolved to return to Florence. He reached the city. He stood before the palace. The street was deserted; but the palace gleamed with lights. Beautiful women passed and repassed before them. They are there, he cried. It is he. It is Doria. It is Aglaura! Take back your gold; but give me back my name. Restore me my bride. My life is bound up with hers. Doria, for love of grace, give me back my name. His cries fell unheeded. Despairingly, he turned towards the bank of the Arno. Half-dead with fatigue, he stretched himself upon the bank. Directly, he beheld approaching, gondolas, filled with musicians. Yalets, bearing flambeaux, lined the banks. The wedding-festival was continued upon the river. He fancied himself in a dream. He saw Aglaura, more beautiful than ever. Her arms were bare; the dia- monds glittered in her hair; her embroidered robe swept down in folds of marvellous richness. When the different groups had descended into the little barks which awaited them; when all had passed, and swept away into the darkness, he heard a strange and terrible cry. Hastening to the place from which they had started, he saw two men hastily retiring, and crying, as they did so: The infamous wretch is dead ! A man had been assassinated. 76 Roberto corsini. [Jan., Seizing the lantern, which they left behind them in their flight, and bringing it close to the face of the murdered man, who was twisting himself like a serpent, he knelt beside him, and endeavored to discover who he was. With a handker- chief he wiped away the blood and dust, which bubbled from his lips, raised the dead and folded eyelids, and cried: It is he! It is Doria! Great Heaven! and he is dying. His eye closes; his mouth works; his veins are blue. He is dying, and my name with him. Doria! my friend Doria! save me, for pitys sake, from annihilation. Give me my name. What does he say? His voice fails. Speak, dear Doria, speak! What do you wish? That I, too, should die? Twill die, if you require it. But, answer me A little water, for pitys sake. The whole river, if you wish. But my name first. A drop of water. A red-hot iron is in my heart. My name! for a draught df water. Give it, and I will open your mouth, and the Arno is there. I have but to stretch out my hand. Nothing for nothing. My name! and you shall have the waterthe watera throat full! my name A little water. I stifle ! Three words, my good Doria. Ah! the scoundrel! lie hesitates. He laughs. He is trying to roll over towards the river. Noyou go not. Answer me, wretch, or I will stran- gle you with my own hands ! and he caught him by the golden ornaments of his dress. He bent over and gazed into his wandering eyes; he fastened upon his bi~eathless lips; then loosed his hold, to clasp his hand, and mingle supplica. tions with blasphemies, persuasion and insinuation with cries of rage. A moment of silence. Doria was dead. Then, with the smile of the atheist, he raised his foot and spurned the body into the river. Now, he exclaimed, now, be thou accursed for ever Next day, some fishermen heard a plungethe fall of a heavy body in the water. Running to the place, they saw only an eddy in the water. In the museum of Florence, in the dissection-room, may be seen, in its glass-case, a glittering skeleton, the articulations of which are of copper and silver. It is the man without a name! 1856.] Ohranicle of the .Afomth. CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. F 0 R E I G N. WARstill war I News from the Crimea Iat least a mass of matter which newspaper editors and news-boysbusy traffickers in extrascall so. To our thinking, however, it appears singularly stale and vapid.; also thric~vamped and insufferably tedious. Good gracious, Max! what a nuis- ance this institution of letter-writing has grown to be. Once upon a time, Madame de Sevign~ and Lady Montague exhausted the record. They were bound in volumes; they were set up upon library-shelves in the finest of binding and gilt lettering; they were the letter-writers par excellence. But nownow every nook and cranny, every hole, chink, and crevice, of the world swarms with them. We once heard a crusty old bachelor, at a watering- place, growling at the number of children in the hotel, and vow that he could nt set his boots outside his door over night, without finding a baby in the toe of each of them in the morning. Now-a-days, in this great Innthe worldyou cant set your foot anywhere outside your own door without stumbling over a letter-writer. Twist, turn, screw, rummage; beat every ground, political, moral, philosophical, mechanical, or farcical, and not the leanest of birds can you scare up. It has all been beaten before you. Anec- dote! bless your innocence, reader, theres no such thing as anecdote to be had now-a-days. Who steals them all? The letter-writers. Fact? Inno- cent creature! Fact perished miserably a long time ago; hung himself, in despair, and his own garters. Who manufactures facts, now-a-days, to order? The letter-writers! Wise suggestions, profound reflections, cunning guesses,. immense discoveries, prophetic revelationswho makes them all? The letter-writers. Also, who kilrs Cock Robin every day? The letter-writers. You can not get ahead of the cunning rogues; they know every thing, and several other things besides. But catch me a live Washington letter-writer, and then you have the Phcenix. Fire cant burn him. Water can not drown him. Stone walls can not stop him. In fact the last are all ears for him, and tongue into the bargain. The Capitol, the Presidents private study, the Secretarys snuggeries are slaves to his lamp. He has but to mount to his three pair back, and rub that serviceable piece of brass, and, in a jiffy, all the echoes of all those private retreats, where the inhabitants vainly suppose themselves secure from eaves-droppers, come tumbling up-stairs to him, one over the other, and tell himbless us and save us! what dont they tell him? They tell him what the President had for dinner, and how the roast beef being a little tough o Tucsdayyes, sir, o Tuesday morningtwas then,

Chronicle of the Month 77-84

1856.] Ohranicle of the .Afomth. CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. F 0 R E I G N. WARstill war I News from the Crimea Iat least a mass of matter which newspaper editors and news-boysbusy traffickers in extrascall so. To our thinking, however, it appears singularly stale and vapid.; also thric~vamped and insufferably tedious. Good gracious, Max! what a nuis- ance this institution of letter-writing has grown to be. Once upon a time, Madame de Sevign~ and Lady Montague exhausted the record. They were bound in volumes; they were set up upon library-shelves in the finest of binding and gilt lettering; they were the letter-writers par excellence. But nownow every nook and cranny, every hole, chink, and crevice, of the world swarms with them. We once heard a crusty old bachelor, at a watering- place, growling at the number of children in the hotel, and vow that he could nt set his boots outside his door over night, without finding a baby in the toe of each of them in the morning. Now-a-days, in this great Innthe worldyou cant set your foot anywhere outside your own door without stumbling over a letter-writer. Twist, turn, screw, rummage; beat every ground, political, moral, philosophical, mechanical, or farcical, and not the leanest of birds can you scare up. It has all been beaten before you. Anec- dote! bless your innocence, reader, theres no such thing as anecdote to be had now-a-days. Who steals them all? The letter-writers. Fact? Inno- cent creature! Fact perished miserably a long time ago; hung himself, in despair, and his own garters. Who manufactures facts, now-a-days, to order? The letter-writers! Wise suggestions, profound reflections, cunning guesses,. immense discoveries, prophetic revelationswho makes them all? The letter-writers. Also, who kilrs Cock Robin every day? The letter-writers. You can not get ahead of the cunning rogues; they know every thing, and several other things besides. But catch me a live Washington letter-writer, and then you have the Phcenix. Fire cant burn him. Water can not drown him. Stone walls can not stop him. In fact the last are all ears for him, and tongue into the bargain. The Capitol, the Presidents private study, the Secretarys snuggeries are slaves to his lamp. He has but to mount to his three pair back, and rub that serviceable piece of brass, and, in a jiffy, all the echoes of all those private retreats, where the inhabitants vainly suppose themselves secure from eaves-droppers, come tumbling up-stairs to him, one over the other, and tell himbless us and save us! what dont they tell him? They tell him what the President had for dinner, and how the roast beef being a little tough o Tucsdayyes, sir, o Tuesday morningtwas then, 78 CAronicle of the M~nth. [Jan., indeed, Franklin Pierce remarked, with an ominous twinkle in his eye, that the roast beef of old England was a tough subj ect; whereupon Marcy chuckled, and replied jocosely: Well carve something out of it for all that. To which Cushing, who, probably in honor of his Christian name, and the popular refrain of Heads up, tails up, Here comes Caleb I Is always ready for a slice of any thing, continued : Ayeaye! We can cut and come again at the BuU, when weve carbonadoed the Spaniard. Start- ling and reliable information! Now, cries the man who didnt get the public printing, or the Mission to France, now we have got at the animu8 of the Administration. Our readers may rely upon the statement ofdacts. It is from our own correspondent, who possesses the secret of fern seed, and walks invisible. In fact, he was under the table, with the Presidents lap-dog, when the conversation took place. Driven to the wall; with nothing indeed but old-fashioned honesty, and Democratic principle to stand upon and e found out, by experience, long ago, what a miserable chance a man has on that platform now-a-daysPierce, Marcy, Cushing, and Co. are bound to make a fuss generally, and talk daggers; but Lord bless you! they will use none. Mere bluster and Greytown bravery. What a blessing a Wash- ington correspondent is, to be sure. Which naturally brings us to the sub- ject of our foreign relations with ENGLANDconcerning which most Christian kingdom, and Grand, Stock- Jobbing, Filibuster, Political Association, for the annexation of Punjaubs, Mahratta kingdoms, Hindoostans, and other such unconsidered trifles of land, evidently made, and laid out upon the map of the world, for the special purpose of being snapped up by his or her Britannic Majesty, for the time being; concerning these our good neighbors, and constant Mentors, it seems to usand we speak it in the simpleness of our hearts, and the tenderest feeling of consideration for Uncle Bulls vanityit seems to us, that dignified person has been making a very clumsy attempt at dancing among the eggs. To think of the staid John blustering and braggng, and sending four hun- dred great guns to bluster on the calm waters of the Western World. Did John really fancy that folk on this side of the Atlantic did not know that all those great guns were worn out and honey-combed, pounding away, to no purpose, at Sebastopol and Sweaborg, and would burst and blow every thing to kingdom come, the first time they were scaled with shot hereabout? Do tell, now, 0 Uncle John! what was the use of frightening all the cot- ton-spinners of Liverpool and Glasgow, and all the wool-men of Lancashire, and all the rest of the population of Great Britain generally? What was the use of frightening all those poor folk to death, trying to scare Brother Jona- than a littlea very littlefor you know you did not expect to scare him much? What a terrible thing it is to have to be a Thunderer, and always make Olympus tremble at a nod! Printing-House Square itself has not 1856j CAron~de of the AIonth. sulphur and iron enough to keep the game up for ever. Meanwhile we take it for granted that Franklin Pierce will be found equal to the situation; let the opposition bow-wow as it may. When theres a scratch to come to, he will be there. That he is thar, one sentence from his late speech to the Amoskeag Veterans (Dec. 17th) indicates in a manner not to be mistaken: A nation which can summon to the field five hundred thousand brave, intelligent, hardy men, accustomed from boyhood to the saddle, and to the use of the rifle and musket, is not in a condition to invite aggreesion I By the light of which expression it will be well to read the following extract from the cor- respondence of the London Daily Telegraph: When war was declared be- tween the United States and Mexico, a placard appeared in the window of a gunmaker on Tower Hill, offering a bounty to all who would enlist in the Mexican service, or rather go privateering in English vessels against the commerce of the United States. I took the bill to George Bancroft, then United States Minister. He at once sat down and wrote to Lord Palmerston, then in office, and the next day appeared in the Tisn~es an official notice from Lord Palmerston, that all such parties who enlisted here, and were caught, would l~e treated as pirates, and punished accordingly. The notice in the window was not shown afterwards. Should the government of the United States adopt Lord Palmerstons rule, and, simply changing the scene from London to Washington, treat aspirates English subjects caught in the same act upon American soil, would the British Cabinet have any right to com- plain? Would they object to English law i~or English subjects? We fancy the President and Cabinet, as a unit, will be found staunch~ If not, we know a particular friend of our own who will say what he thinks, though the Heavens sh~uld fall for it; not that we fancy that brave, oer- hanging canopy will come down from any chance shot of ours, but simply as a form of expression, by which we would imply that our confidence in the Democratic party is the rule of our duty, towards any man and all men. A principle we may discuss hereafter, but which, although of much greater importance to the world in general and to ourselves in particular, than those powers, paired, not matched, must give way, for the moment, to the ALLIEsand it affords us a singular pleasure to announce that the last council of war, in the Crimea, held Nov. 3, declare the campaign of 1855 finished. How many more they will finish in the same unfinished manner, or when they expect to commence the beginning of the end, or whether any one will ever live to see them finish any thing, except bragging, are great mysteries. Great Arthurs ghost complains that they are slow, and Marl- boros shade walks unavenged amongst them. But what can be expected in the way of going ahead, from a people who, when their little dot of an island is actually bound up and criss-crossed, every half-mile, with a net- work of railroads, are so wedded to old fashions that they dare not adopt the model of an American locomotive, but continue to run a seven-by-nine~~ article, dignified with the name, with a ten-inch driving-wheel behind, a pair 80 Ckronicle of tke JJiouth, [Jan., of cotton spindles in front, and no cow-catcher! They do. It is a fact. Of course they cant be expected to drive the mighty engine of war at much over a snails pace. Meanwhile cotton, which is king, although an amiable lady of distinguished manners and defective education, pleases her- self with the idea that the round and top of royalty belongs to her, begins to mutter audibly in the rural districts. The war does not pay : tout au contraire ; the manufacturers pay for the war to a tune, the singing whereof is fast stealing its popularity from that other fine tune of Rule Britannia. In most pathetical fact, Great Britain may be said just now to be in the po- sition of the half-pay lieutenant, in the comedy of the Poor Gentleman, and if not more honest than poor, she is certainly more proud than either: a pleasant little flash of the latter lighting up the darkness of the Mosquito shore, and, prior to fading away into the twilight of renewed negotiations, shining quite grandly on the Clayton-Bulwer treaty. Also it may be seen with a kind of farthing rushlight splendor, worrying through the thick opaque of Mr. Minister Cramptons patriotic attempt to steal American thunder for English uses. What the President or Mr. Marcy intend to do in those premises, we pledge the public our honor, we do not know. They have not said a word to us about the matter; which, considering the uncom- monly free manner and style of their communications to the own corre- spondents of the Herald, Times, and other respectable two-pennies, we take to be very shabby treatment indeed. When we mentioned the subject to Mr. Secretary Marcy, we observed that he shut one eye; from which we naturally concluded that he meant to intimate that he had the other upon him. If the honorable Secretary, however, deceived us, and through us of course the whole country, we shall resent it. We insist upon it, the language of that eye was as clear as preaching, and we promise the country never to put our legs under the honorable gen- tlemans mahogany again, if he keeps any body elses own correspond- ent under it, to feed on the alms-basket of his words, whilst, above the polished surface of that hospitable piece of furniture, he deludes our inno- cence with diplomatic winks. Which naturally leads us to the second member, or as some think, theftrst, of the grand Western Coalition, which, with a very questionable hand, is undertaking to bluff the Northern Bear, id eat, FRANcEwhere it is noticeable that the expression of opinion by the Emperor and the members of his government, with regard to the United States, has about it an air of common-sense and cordiality which contrasts pleasingly with the natural roughness of his opposite neighbor. The senti- ment of France translates itself upon the lips of her leading men, into a gen- ial appreciation of the character and purposes of the model Republic. In Paris, Berlin, and Yienna, they talk of peace; they say Russia desires to treat; and Prussia is anxious to have a finger in the pie. Our advices from Russia, on which we place more reliance than on Parisian canards or Vien 18~6.] Chronicle of the )iionth. 81 nese traps, indicate that the only treat Russia is willing to offer will be composed of equal parts of cold steel and gunpowder. The subject of treating calls us naturally back nearer home, and lands us in NICARAGUAwhere, it is popularly believed, His Serenity, General William Walker, is doing a very large business on a very small capital. In any view of his acts, it is an astonishing thing to look at, that invasion, or colonization, or what you please. Nothing finer since Cortez and Pizarro. Think of seventy Yankees entering in and possessing an inde- pendent kingdom by force of arms; defeating half-a-dozen factions, with haIf- a-dozen armies of pick-pockets and cut-throats at their backs; capturing the seat of government, and then sitting quietly down to supper, calm as a summers morning ; and above all, with a clemency which has struck the heart of Central America with admiration, not shooting above a dozen re- fractory generals, councillors of state, and other distinguished native pre- tenders among the seigniory of that people! Stupendous! Theres virtue for you. In connection with which subject, a striking little episode came off, off the Battery, on the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. At that quiet time about three hundred gallant souls, who had heard the alarm of Nicaraguan war, and longed for fields of fame, attempted to get away in the Northern Light. But Mr. District-Attorney McKeon, in obedience to the Presidents orders, insisted upon putting their light under a bushel. Those who saw, report that the gallant District-Attorney showed more pluck than all the gallant three hundred put together, and parodying the words of the indomitable Fitz- James, exclaimed as he stood upon the vessels side alone, like Ajax breast- ing the thunder-bolt: This boat shant fly From New-York Bay with you or I! In pursuance of which stern resolve he rushed, like the bearer of the fiery cross, from Barge office to Revenue Cutter, from Revenue Cutter to Navy- Yard, and, in the turn of a hand-spike9 was standing out, side by side with the fihibusteros, for a yard-arm and yard-arm fight. Having opened the ball, however, with a nine-pounder double-shotted, the crusaders caved in, and meekly forbore to put the Revenue Cutter to the trouble of sinking them. The prompt action of the general government in the premises evinces their determination to preserve the letter and spirit of our treaties with Great Britain; and if they are broken at all, to throw the onus of the act entirely upon her. In the attitude assumed by the government towards the English Minister, Mr. Crampton, the necessity of preventing any infraction of the Neutrality laws, by American citizens, is self-evident. From Nicaragua to the United States being but a step, it affords us a great deal more pleasure 6 82 Chronicle of the ALrnth. [Jan., to take it in that direction than it would to go from the United States to Nicaragua. We turn therefore from the foreign to the DOMESTIC. And being upon that blessed soil, we beg to recommend to the seri- ous consideration of a very large, and very foolish, portion of our fellow- citizens, especially to the Washington Chapter of United Americans, and all others who invoke that reverend name as patron of their politi- cal faith, these grand and noble words of George Washington. Lay them to heart, 0 blind and foolish Know-Nothings: The bosom of America is open to receive, not only the opulent and respectable stranger, but the op- pressed and persecuted of ALL NATIONS and of ALL RELIGIONS, whom we shall welcome to a participation in alt our rights and privileges. So, the Father of his Country being dead, yet speaketh. What a wonderful age of progress, perdie! Every Know-Nothing clod-hopper or counter-jumper is wiser and more patriotic than Washington! One comfort, it cant last; So wise so young, they say do neer live long. There is a little common-sense return- ing too, vide the pronunciamento of a number of individuals who lately withdrew from the organization in Arkansas: Those of us who were heretofore Democrats return with joy to our first love. Those who were Whigs are still so, but, their organization being broken up, claim for the future no party but their country, and expect to co6perate with that party whose organization is national, whose aims are their countrys prosperity, and whose war-cry is opposition to religious proscription and secret political societies. There is a future left for all men who have the honesty to repent, and the courage to atone. Probably some body will expect us to say something about KANsAs.We will; and what we say is, the least said the soonest mended. A parcel of scoundrels and idiots, or a lovely conglomerate of both, have been airing their valor on that distant field. We see no great harm in that; no great harm in a few hundred of them being shot, if they like. And if they have a fancy for being shot, in Heavens name, why cant people a thousand miles off let them enjoy themselves? When the Kansas bill settled the great original right of self-government on its original basis, there was an end. After that let the gentlemen fight it out among themselves; it is no business of ours. We gave them self-government; let them use it or abuse it. They have to pay the piper: pray let them dance as long as they please. The last place to which we turn our eyes, is that to which all eyes have been turned for a month past, WASHINGTON.And you shall find, at your pleasure, men who will tell you that the friends of Banks, Fuller, Richardson, etc., have each and all of them covered themselves with glory. Also, the next man you meet will tell you that they should individually and collectively be covered with cursing as with a garment. For our part we watched that gallant seventy-four, as we 1856.] Chronicle of ~he ilfionth. 83 would watch old Ironsides going into battle against an enemys fleet. Every ballot rung on our ears like a broadside from the old frigate, and every time the smoke lifted and the votes were counted, our hearts beat with exultation to see the old Democratic barkie come plunging through the hostile line, the broad pennant streaming, and every thing, from clew to earing, from truck to keelson, taut and trim; not a spar splintered, not a line or brace cut: there she rode. Whatever may be the issue, or who the Speaker, the atti- tude assumed and maintained by the Democratic representatives affords a sure indication of the attitude which will also be maintained by the party in the contest of 1856. It will be found a unit, and as such, the last bulwark of the Constitution against the encroachments of every other party and faction. In NEW-YORKa sort of suspension of hostilities has taken place, and poli- ticians of all shades await the opening of the session of the State Legislature. The most active body in the Democratic field appears ~to be the Young Mens Democratic Union Club, of New-York. They have just issued a cir- cular asking the support of the party for a system of operation in the ap- proaching campaign. The circular states that they propose to open, in a central position, on Broadway, a politicffl head-quarters of the Democracy, consisting of a reading-room, furnished with the newspapers from all quarters of the Union, and a room for public meetings; the meetings to be held weekly, and distinguished Democratic speakers from every part of the United States to deliver addresses at such times as they may designate. They propose also to publish a weekly campaign paper. They pledge them- selves to support only National Democratic principles, and the nominee of the Cincinnati Convention, whoever he may be, so long as he is neither an Abolitio~ist nor a Free-Soiler---a contingency hardly worth mentioning, as it is scarcely within the range of possibility. The scheme appears an admirable one, and, if carried out, must exert a powerful influence upon all sections of the country, and do more to harmonize the party in the State of New-York than any thing which has yet been set on foot. TERRE is a moral in the little mot below, worth some good mens con- sideration. It touches a sore place on the body politic. The following dialogue occurred between a conductor on one of the Port- land railroads and a passenger a few days since: PAssENGER. Well, Mr. Conductor, whats the political news 1 CoNDUcToR. Dont know, sir, for I havent been to chi~rch for the last two Sundays. 84 Music, [Jam, MUSIC. THE first concert of the Philharmonic Society drew together the largest audience ever present at any of their performances. Niblos Theatre was crowded to its utmost capacity; a result pretty surely foreshadowed by the fact that hundreds turned away, unable to gain admission to the last re- hearsal previous to the concert. It is a peculiar and very encouraging fact to be observed in these audiences, that the average youth is greater than is ever seen at any other public exhibition in our city. Our young men and maid ens are safe in the hands of Mozart and Beethoven, musically, morally, and politically; and if the young learn to appreciate and love the works of the divine old Masters, we need have no fear for the permanence of a correct musical taste.. The concert with which the present Philharmonic season has commenced deserved its great success. It was the best ever given. Beethovens Pastora~e, Glucks Ip hi genie, and Wagners Tannhiiuser, was the work cut .out forthe or- chestra, and they did their work well. A more interesting selection of sym- phonies could not possibly have been madeeach marking distinctly, and standing at the front of three great eras in orchestral music; at least it is claimed by many that Tannh~iuser is to create an era, as his mighty prede- cessors created theirs. How difficult it is for us, who are accuston~d to the inexhaustible richness and resources of the modern orchestra, as developed by Mozart and Beethoven, to realize the commotion produced by Gluck in the musical world. What seems to us now almost naked simplicity, and a lack of fullness and effect in the Iphigenie, led Metastasio, just one hundred years ago, to say: Gluck has surprising fire, but is mad: with him spirit, noise, and extravagance have supplied the place of merit. So wrote Metastasio in 1756. What would he say now if he could be present (without cotton in his ears) at the performance of some of the overtures of the modern Dramatic Romantic School? With such an example before us, we naturally hesitate to pronounce an opinion upon 7iannhduser, as the harbinger of a new world in music. Often as we have heard it, and much as we have read about it, we nevertheless still hesitate to believe that Mozart and Beethoven will ever be as completely shelved by Wagner and his successors, as Gluck and Piccini now are by the fathers of the modern symphony. We have a sort of belief or notion, an intimate conviction, as the French say, that Rafello, Michael Angelo, Mozart, and Beethoven, carried their respective arts to a degree of jerfection that will never again be equalled. The arts culminated in their works, and although many good pictures have been since painted and un

Music 84-88

84 Music, [Jam, MUSIC. THE first concert of the Philharmonic Society drew together the largest audience ever present at any of their performances. Niblos Theatre was crowded to its utmost capacity; a result pretty surely foreshadowed by the fact that hundreds turned away, unable to gain admission to the last re- hearsal previous to the concert. It is a peculiar and very encouraging fact to be observed in these audiences, that the average youth is greater than is ever seen at any other public exhibition in our city. Our young men and maid ens are safe in the hands of Mozart and Beethoven, musically, morally, and politically; and if the young learn to appreciate and love the works of the divine old Masters, we need have no fear for the permanence of a correct musical taste.. The concert with which the present Philharmonic season has commenced deserved its great success. It was the best ever given. Beethovens Pastora~e, Glucks Ip hi genie, and Wagners Tannhiiuser, was the work cut .out forthe or- chestra, and they did their work well. A more interesting selection of sym- phonies could not possibly have been madeeach marking distinctly, and standing at the front of three great eras in orchestral music; at least it is claimed by many that Tannh~iuser is to create an era, as his mighty prede- cessors created theirs. How difficult it is for us, who are accuston~d to the inexhaustible richness and resources of the modern orchestra, as developed by Mozart and Beethoven, to realize the commotion produced by Gluck in the musical world. What seems to us now almost naked simplicity, and a lack of fullness and effect in the Iphigenie, led Metastasio, just one hundred years ago, to say: Gluck has surprising fire, but is mad: with him spirit, noise, and extravagance have supplied the place of merit. So wrote Metastasio in 1756. What would he say now if he could be present (without cotton in his ears) at the performance of some of the overtures of the modern Dramatic Romantic School? With such an example before us, we naturally hesitate to pronounce an opinion upon 7iannhduser, as the harbinger of a new world in music. Often as we have heard it, and much as we have read about it, we nevertheless still hesitate to believe that Mozart and Beethoven will ever be as completely shelved by Wagner and his successors, as Gluck and Piccini now are by the fathers of the modern symphony. We have a sort of belief or notion, an intimate conviction, as the French say, that Rafello, Michael Angelo, Mozart, and Beethoven, carried their respective arts to a degree of jerfection that will never again be equalled. The arts culminated in their works, and although many good pictures have been since painted and un 1856.] Alusic. 85 doubtedly will be again; and though Powers and Crawford may chisel, and Mendelssohns and Wagners write symphonies, the Transfiguration will con- tinue to reign in unapproached grandeur and sublimity. Buonarottis Aloses will still look haughtily down on a long array of Venuses and Creek Staves, and the fupiter and Pastorede continue to chant their heaven-born strains some hundreds of years after Desert and Tannk?Luser symphonies have breathed their last sigh, and live only in the memory of some musical Old Mortality. However, these hysterics are very improper in a critic, and if our friends in Wall street and on Change will pardon the present fit, we promise not to be taken so again, for a month at least. We will close our notice of the concert by praising the orchestra and their efficient leader, Mr. Bergmann, for the admirable way in which they discharged their duty. The shading, the ensemble, and effective taking up of all the points Were well done throughout. We venture to suggest, however, that the first movement of the Pastorcde symphony was taken so fast as almost to destroy the pe- culiar flowing character of the measure. And we should like to hint that neither of the symphonies, not even Tcsnnkduser was written as a solo, with- out variations, for the drums, with orchestral accompaniment.Mr. Eisfelds second quartette soiree took place on the night of the fifteenth December, at the usual place. As usual, our unlucky professor had a stormy night, and as usual the lovers of classical music showed that their love was stronger than their fears of a wet skin. Here, too, the modern Dramatic Romantic crept in through the rain-drops, in the shape of a quartette, by a Russian composer, with the extremely German name of Rubinstein. At least we heard from very good authority that the composer was a Russian, and we fully believe it. We are hardly prepared to discuss the merits of the com- position on a single hasty hearing. It was very elaborate, and in one of the movements there was such a rapid, intricate, hopeless interlacing, twisting, and twining of what seemed to be a million of indistinct semi-quavers, that the different members of the concern lost all individuality, and first violin and tenor, second violin and base collapsed suddenly into indistinguivhable fusion, and our brain, after one or two hopeless twirls in pursuit of the fan- tastic gyrations, suddenly refused to act, and when it consented to resume its wonted functions, things seemed to be going on pretty smoothly again. The scherzo movement was very charming and original, though grotesque, and the slow movement pleased us most of all. It was simple and majestic, just such a strain as a lonely, boundless Russian steppe might suggest. The variations by Beethoven and quintette by Spohr were cleverly played. We have to congratulate Mr. Noll on his improved tone, and take leave to say that there is room for a like improvement in the second violin and vio- loncello. Our German friends sometimes seem to forget that the quality of tone is the essential element of a good quartette. Every instrument repre- sents a human voice, and. it is hardly necessary to say any thing by way of illustrating the value of quality of tone in the voice used as a musical instru 86 3fusw. [Jan., ment. Think of Steffanone and an old French actress, with thin cracked voice, singing the same melody, and you begin to appreciate our notion on this subject. The thought of Steffanone brings us naturally to the Academy of Music, where Italian opera so far has not been a very thriving affair. And this too, although a great variety of good operas, most of them well mounted, have been produced. There are several reasons to be given why the gentlemen who have undertaken to entertain the public at the Academy of Music, have done so at a very considerable loss. In the first place, the house is entirely too large, and not more than two thirds of the people it is capable of containing, can, when seated, see the stage. Those who are seated and can see the stage, are so crowded together and shut in from all approach, that they can speak to no one but their next neighbor. Now, as ladies never go to the opera with the man they wish most particu- larly to talk to, the present opera-house has no attraction for them. Fine dressing is thrown away too, every body is so far off that whether the dress one has on cost a dollar or ten a yard, can never be satisfactorily known to all ones female friends. The consequence of all this is, that you may go night after night to Fourteenth street and not see five out of the five hun- dred well-dressed and well-known women who occupied their scat every night at the Astor Place. And as if all these reasons were not enough, the prices of admission were put up so ridiculously high at the beginning of the season as completely to extinguish the last flicker of desire in any to enter the uncomfortable Academy of Music. Only to think of the madness that could imagine a number of live Yankees paying two dollars a head for se~~ured seats in the upper tier of boxes! We fancy they would be quite secure from occupants at two cents. It would require a much more popular troupe than the present one to counteract all these disadvantages. The lyric drama of Italy must be well played. It is not enough that the music is correctly rendered. Her unri- valled dramatic power has kept Grisi firmly seated on her throne. There is not an actor nor an actress in the present company, and that, considering its numbers, is a pretty extensive want. Four prima donnas, and the clev- erest of themand she nothing more than clever as an actressis Didi6e; three tenors, but, shade of Garrick! what sticks they are; two baritones, good jolly fellows with fine rich voices, and good singers, but surely the tragic muse will never claim them as the most illustrious of her children. This will never do for an Italian opera company in New-York. It is but justice, however, to say, that in comic opera, such as the Barber, they are excel- lent. We never saw this opera better done than by the present troupe. The incredible mastery of vocal difficulti~s by Lagrange pleases us in the fun-loving Hosina, and Rovere is just the best Dr. Bartolo alive. As singers, mere singers, the principal members of the troupe are excel- lent. Lagrange is the most astonishing vocalizer we ever heard. In rapidity, brilliancy, and precision of execution, in extraordinary compass of 185(3.] lilusic. 87 voice, and in endurance, she is truly wonderful. But she has not a single sympathetic tone, and her style is forced, unnatural, and artificial. Didi6e, is to us, the only really good artist in the troupe. She possesses a good contralto voice, sympathetic and rich in quality. She has learned to sing in a good school, and nature has given her what no school can, the power of genuine expression. She possesses no great force, she can not storm so grandly as Grisi, but her enchanting expression of the gentler emotions, compensates us, especially after late experiences, for her lack of capacity to Rachelize. Amodio and Morelli are both excellent artists, and have been gifted with good voices. The tenor Brignoli may make a good tenor if he ever learns that there is any other element of musical expression besides an incessant diminuendo and crescendo, employed with a regularity that very much resembles the movement of a pair of bellows in full operation. How- ever, as he monopolizes the manly beauty of the company, perhaps he can dispense with any improvement in his style of singing. Such we consider to be a pretty fair estimate of the merits of the present troupe, and we see no reason w by1 even without the drawbacks which belong of necessity to the Academy in Fourteenth street, any one should dream with such mate- rial to carry on a prosperous opera season in the city of New-York. THE following question, put by the Louisville Democrat, has a world of useful warning in it. We put it here that Democrats, ambitious of shining in a small way, as secretaries of public meetings, and so forth, may see what risk they run of burning their fingers in the flame of the torches which usually illuminate the stands. Speaking of the tricks of the Hindoos, to inveigle Democrats into their order, by making them conspicuous as officers on all public occasions, it asks very pertinently, Did any one ever see a no-pcsrty meeting gotten up, but a Democrat was }2ut in the chair, if one could be found in the crowd ? The Democrat might have added that they are placed in such positions from motives as disinterested as those which induced David to put Uriah in the front of the battle. 88 Literary Notice. LITERARY NOTICE. Widow Bedott Pc~per8. .N~w- YorA~: ~T. C. Derl~y. Bo8ton: Phillips, Sampson ~ Co. THERE are some people, we believe, who never laugh heartilywho would feel it undignified to do so. They should take care not to read the Widow Bedott Papersespecially not to read, or hear them read, aloudwhich makes their humor particularly telling, and laughter provoking. We confess we think the Widow herself has a leetle too much of human natur, and are not quite sure the world is the better for the exposure of all her weak- nesses. But Mrs. Maguires observations and experiences are not only capital as fun, but full of practical good sense. The witty authoress of the work, published as a volume, and not merely as articles in a magazine, only since her death, was the wife of a clergyman, and no one can doubt she drew her donation-parties, and sewing-societies, and country neigh- bors, from life. We dont commend the book to the very grave, who are accustomed to be shocked when others are merry, and we advise the fasti- dious to read it only now and then, by single chapters, but even they will find in it food for thought, and hints for action, as well as matter for mirth. THE MOST NOTABLE OF NOTABLE THINGS. Or all the notable things on earth, The queerest one is pride of birth, Among our fierce Democracy 1 A bridge across a hundred years, Without a prop to save from sneers Not even a couple of rotten Peers A thing for laughter, sneers, and jeers, Is American aristderacy!

Widow Bedott Papers Literary Notice 88

88 Literary Notice. LITERARY NOTICE. Widow Bedott Pc~per8. .N~w- YorA~: ~T. C. Derl~y. Bo8ton: Phillips, Sampson ~ Co. THERE are some people, we believe, who never laugh heartilywho would feel it undignified to do so. They should take care not to read the Widow Bedott Papersespecially not to read, or hear them read, aloudwhich makes their humor particularly telling, and laughter provoking. We confess we think the Widow herself has a leetle too much of human natur, and are not quite sure the world is the better for the exposure of all her weak- nesses. But Mrs. Maguires observations and experiences are not only capital as fun, but full of practical good sense. The witty authoress of the work, published as a volume, and not merely as articles in a magazine, only since her death, was the wife of a clergyman, and no one can doubt she drew her donation-parties, and sewing-societies, and country neigh- bors, from life. We dont commend the book to the very grave, who are accustomed to be shocked when others are merry, and we advise the fasti- dious to read it only now and then, by single chapters, but even they will find in it food for thought, and hints for action, as well as matter for mirth. THE MOST NOTABLE OF NOTABLE THINGS. Or all the notable things on earth, The queerest one is pride of birth, Among our fierce Democracy 1 A bridge across a hundred years, Without a prop to save from sneers Not even a couple of rotten Peers A thing for laughter, sneers, and jeers, Is American aristderacy!

The Most Notable of Notable Things 88-88B

88 Literary Notice. LITERARY NOTICE. Widow Bedott Pc~per8. .N~w- YorA~: ~T. C. Derl~y. Bo8ton: Phillips, Sampson ~ Co. THERE are some people, we believe, who never laugh heartilywho would feel it undignified to do so. They should take care not to read the Widow Bedott Papersespecially not to read, or hear them read, aloudwhich makes their humor particularly telling, and laughter provoking. We confess we think the Widow herself has a leetle too much of human natur, and are not quite sure the world is the better for the exposure of all her weak- nesses. But Mrs. Maguires observations and experiences are not only capital as fun, but full of practical good sense. The witty authoress of the work, published as a volume, and not merely as articles in a magazine, only since her death, was the wife of a clergyman, and no one can doubt she drew her donation-parties, and sewing-societies, and country neigh- bors, from life. We dont commend the book to the very grave, who are accustomed to be shocked when others are merry, and we advise the fasti- dious to read it only now and then, by single chapters, but even they will find in it food for thought, and hints for action, as well as matter for mirth. THE MOST NOTABLE OF NOTABLE THINGS. Or all the notable things on earth, The queerest one is pride of birth, Among our fierce Democracy 1 A bridge across a hundred years, Without a prop to save from sneers Not even a couple of rotten Peers A thing for laughter, sneers, and jeers, Is American aristderacy! L7~

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The United States Democratic review. / Volume 37, Issue 2 United States magazine, and Democratic review Democratic review United States review J.& H.G. Langley, etc. New York, etc. Februrary 1856 0037 002
J. G. G., J. The Union - The Dangers Which Beset It. Number Two 89-104

THE UNITED STATES DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. FEBRUARY, 1856. THE UNIONTHE DANGERS WHICH BESET IT. NUMBER TWO. OUR first number closed with a rapid digest of the authori. ties relating to the subject of the temporal jurisdiction of the S~e of. Rome, and in what manner it was construed and accepted by the clergy and laity of Europe. Let us see how the matter stands in the United States. Some thirty years ago, that great, good, and learned Catholic, Bishop England, a man respected and esteemed by all who knew him, said: It is a heresy in religion, it is an absurdity in polit{cs, to assert that because a roan possesses political power, therefore he possesses ecclesiasti- cal jurisdiction: or that, because he has spiritual power, he, therefore, has magisterial rights in the State. The doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, and the principles of the American Constitution are in unison upon this subject.Englande WOTJOS, Vol. 2, p. 249. Again, in same volume, p. 251, he says: Let the Pope and Cardinals, and all the powers of the Catholic world united, make the least encroachment on that Constitution, (of the U. S.,) we will protect it with our lives. Summon a general council. Let that council interfere in the mode of our electing but an assistant turnkey of a prisonwe deny its right; we reject its usurpation. Let that council lay 7 90 The Union~ the Dctnger8 which 1~eset it. [Feb., a tax of one cent only upon any of our churches, we will not pay it. Yet, we are most obedient Papists, etc. At p. 252 of the same ~o1ume,in terms still more emphatic, he says: Roman Catholics believe the Pope to be the successor of St. Peter, and, therefore, to be entitled to a supremacy of honor and distinction through the whole of the Christian world. This, however, is only that which is due to a spiritual head. This jurisdiction is only in spiritual and ecclesiastical concerns. The American Constitution leaves its citizens in perfect freedom to have whom they please to regulate their spiritual concerns. But if the Pope were to declare war against America, and any Roman Catholic, under the pretext of spiritual obedience, was to refuse to oppose this temporal aggressor, he would deserve to be punished for his refusal, because he owes to his country to maintain its rights; and spiritual power does not and can not destroy the claim which the government has upon him. Bishop Spaulding, in his Evidences of Catholicity, p. 338, emphatically denies this charge. He says: But the Papacy invested itself with temporal powers; and in the mid- dle ages, it claimed the right to depose princes, and to absolve their sub- jects from the oath of allegiance. Be it so; what then? Was this acces- sion of temporal power ever viewed as an es3ential prerogative of the Pa- pacy? or was it not considered merely as an accidental appendage; the creature of peculiar circumstances? Are there any examples of such al- leged usurpations during the first ten centuries of its history? Has this power been exercised, or even claimed, by the Roman Pontiffs for the last three centuries? If these two facts are undoubtedas they certainly are then how maintain that a belief in the Papacy involves a recognition of its temporal power? Was the latter ever a doctrine of the Catholic Church? If it was, where is the proof; where the Church definition that made it a doctrine? Did not five leading Catholic Universities, when officially called on by Mr. Pitt, Prime Minister of Great Britain, solemnly and unanimously disclaim this opinion, and maintain the precise contrary? Did the Catholic Church; did the Popes ever rebuke them for the disclaimer? Do not Catholics all over the WORLD now almost unanimously disclaim it? And are they the less Catholic for this? I fearlessly assertand I do it advis- edlythat there are very few Catholics at the present day who do not reject this opinionthat there are still fewer, if any, who maintain itand that it is not allowed to be defended, at least publicly, even in Rome itse~f Such being clearly the case, is not all this clamor about the tempomal power of the Pope a mere devicea conjuring up of a phantom in the past, for the~ purpose of frightening persons of weak nerves into a hatred of the Papacy ? The Catholic Council of New-York, in its last pastoral address, uses the following language: Your first duty is to God and your holy faith. Your second subordi- nate, but in its own sphere equally supreme, loyalty to your country, in all 91 1856.] The Uhiom the .Dctngere which 1~eeet it. her vicissitudes of prosperity or of adversity, if God should so permit her to be tried, etc. The Catholic Council of Baltimore, in April last, we believe in their pastoral letter, address the following advice to th~ Catholic people: To the general and State governmepts you owe allegiance in all as regards the civil order. The authorities of the Church challenge your obe- ditnee in things of salvation. We have no need of pressing this distinction, which you fully understand and constantly observe. You know that we have uniformly taught you, both publicly and privately, to perform all the duties of good citizens, and that we have never exacted of you, as we our- selves have never made, even to the highest ecclesiastical authority, any engagements inconsistent with the duties we owe to the country and its laws. On every opportune occasion we have avowed these principles; and, even in our communication to the late Pontiff we rejected, as a calumny,, the imputation that we were in civil matters subject to his authority. Be not disturbed at the misstatements of our tenets which are daily made, or at the effort to deprive us of our civil rights, and of the confidence and esteem of our fellow.citizens, etc. Bishop Hughes, of New.York; Bishop McGill, of Richmond, and, indeed, every bishop and priest in the United States, have denied the truth of this charge, and no Catholic, save one, in the United States, asserts it. If the Pope had, or claimed any such paramount allegiance, so important in its character, it is wonderful that he did not punish or rebuke the insubordinate and rebellious spirits in Europe and America, who denied it. At this day, the main authority relied upon to sustain this monstrous charge, is Mr. Orestes A. Brownson, the editor of Browrisoris Review, a not very ancient convert to Catholicism, who is the only Catholic in the United States that does claim this power for the Pope; but who is not the Catholic Church, nor authorized to speak for it. He claims it as a mere deduc- tion from the ecclesiastical supremacy of the Pope. Of this claim, on the part of Mr. Browuson, Archbishop Kenrick, of Baltimore, in reply to an inquiry of the Protestant Bishop of Vermont, makes the following satisfactory disposition: Although I addressed this distinguished publicist (Brownson) in 1846, in terms of high commenTdation of his zeal and ability in defense of the Catholic faith which he had embraced but two years before, and the other bishops concurred with me, none of us thought of rendering ourselves re- sponsible for whatever views he might afterwards entertain, as he himself has recently avowed most distinctly, to correct the abuse made of our signa- tures which are represented as implying an unqualified indorsement of all 92 The Union tkc Dangers which be8et it. [Feb., hi~ sentiments. Most assuredly I dissent from him, if he claims for the Pope any right to interfere with our civil allegiance. With his full know- ledge and approval Catholics everywhere pledge and render it to the government under which they live; knowing that it is a duty independent of all ecclesiastical sanction. In addition to all this, there has not been, in our whole his- tory, a single instance in which the Pope claimed, or the Catholics yielded; any action or duty, in peace or in w~r, or uttered any sentiment of obedience incompatible wi* tl~e strictest allegiance or most devoted loyalty, to the goveA~~t of the United States. In wax, they have proved themseive gallant and faithful soldiefa~: *nd, in peace, quiet and valuable citizens; as much so a~ ~y Protestant denomination. Why then, disfranchise thentmany of them native-born citizens of their civil priviIeg~s? In Christian devotion and charity; in loyalty to the Union, and the free institutions of the coun- try; in fidelity to the national flag, and in all the qualities of good citizens, they are as far superior to the political clergy- men, who have been, and are now, engaged in finning the flames of discord between North and South, as an angel of ~light to a demon of perdition, or as Montgomery to Arnold. In every oath of allegiance which a foreign-born Catholic takes, on being naturalized, he expressly abjures all political allegiance to all and every prince, power or potentate, what- ever, which embraces the Pope as a temporal prince. Now, if they retain paxamount allegiance to the Pope, they all com- mit a willful and deliberate perjury, which, as to the great mass, is uncharitable to believe and cruel to charge; particu- larly, when no act incompatible with the greatest loyalty and utmost ficklity to our institutions, has ever been exhibited. We regard this idea of allegiance to two independent govern- ments one paramount to the other,: as supremely ridiculous and t~bsurdj an anomaly in politics, which has no other existence thain in the inventive brain of scheming religious bigots. We all know what Washington, Jefferson, Madison and a whole host of their patriotic cotemporaries thought of religious liberty, and the entire freedom of conscience. We all know, that, well acquainted with Roman Catholicism, with all its objectionable features, they intended th~t~ there should be no ineligibility to office on account of religi~us opinion, and that, under the benignant influence of this t~daxnental principle of true liberty, pure and undefiled religiori~4~s fi~urished in this country beyond all exara~ie. In a d~tt~x 1t~ all they ha~re 1856.] Rhe Union~ the Danger8 which be8et it. 93 said, we subjoin the following explicit and most eloquent remarks of the late Mr. Webster, the greatest statesman that New-England ever produced, which thouoh hend the whole ground. brief; compre In his great discourse delivered at Plymouth Rock, iDecem- her, 1820, Mr. Webster said: The principle of religious toleration, to which the world has come so slowly, is at once the most just and the most wise of all principles) Again, he says: Thanks be to God, that this spot was honored as the asylum of religious liberty. May its standard, reared here, remain for ever 1May it rise up as high as heaven, till its banners shall fan the air of both continents, and wave as a glorious ensign of peace and security to the nations 1 In one of his letters he remarks as follows: It seems to be the American destiny, the mission which ~ b.ewi intrusted to us here on this shore of the Atlantic, the great concepW~~i the great duty to which we are born, to show that all sects and all enomi nations, professing reverence for the authority of the Author of our being, and belief in his revelations, may be safely tolerated without prejudice either in our religion or our liberties. We are Protestants generally speaking; but you all know that there presides at the head of the Supreme Judicature of the United States, a Roman Catholic; and no man, I suppose, throughout the whole United States, imagines that the judicature is less safe; that the administration of public justice is less respectable or less secure, because the Chief-Justice of the United States has been, and is, a firm adherent of that religion. And so ~t is in every department of society amongst us, etc. There is no necessity of voting for a Roman Catholic because he is one, nor should he be excluded because he is one. Every true man should vote or not for .~ Roman Catholic, as his qualifications might determine. The first inquiry should be, Is he honest, is he faithful, is he ~apa. ble? and if he is, the second inquiry should be, Is he more so, than his Protestant competitor? If he be, select him. If his Protestant competitor be more so than he, select the Protest- ant. If qualifications be equal, other considerations, not af- fecting the public interest, may determine; for the country will suffer no detriment by the selection of either. We think the people are very, capable of selecting, as well between the trust- worthy and untrustw - y Catholics, as they are between the trustworthy and nat ~tworthy Protestants, and that they are sufficiently im~s ith the importance of the duty to 94 The Union the Danger8 which he~et it. [Feb., perform it judiciously. The principles of this American party would kindle a flame in the iRepublic of such intensity, that it could not be extinguished, until a common ruin had enveloped the civil and religious liberty of the people, tho institutions of the country, and the Unioiii of these once free, happy, prosperous, and powerful States. Let every Democrat determine to resist it at all hazards, and to the last extremity. By it, they \vill neither advance the cause of religion nor suppress Catholicism. The Protestant prophets have been assuring the world, that IRomanism was accursed of God and must surely fall, and some of them have calculated the very day of its final over- throw; and yet they profess to be awfully afraid that it is about to sweep over the world, like a sirocco blast! Do they distrust Godif not, why are they afraid? The next engine which the American party has brought to play upon the Democratic party, and the quiet of the country, is that of foreignism. The Catholic question was intended to operate upon the religious bigotry, and the foreign upon the native prejudices of the countryboth of them formid- able, when brought to play upon, feelings already intensely excited. They would have us believe, in spite of the every- day proofs to the contrary, that there is neither virtue, intelli- gence nor love of freedom in any country but this. That no foreign-born citizen can so far forget the land of his nativity, as to feel that affection for the land of his adoption, which will make it safe to trust him with office, or even the right of suf- frage. That he is too stupid to understand the value of liberty and the principles of our institutions, until after twenty-one years schooling! All this they urge, with a zeal and pertina- city, which, to a casual observer, would induce the belief that they are sincere! But, in our humble opinion, there was no sincerity in its originators. It was intended to delude and deceive, until other and more ambitious projects were consum- mated. Now, a few facts and a few illustrations will dissipate this scheme, and scatter it into thin air. We can point to the peopling of our Republic by foreigners. We can trace in our past history their patient endurance, painful toils, severe suffering, intrepid services and faithful devotion to the flag of the Union, under circumstances, some- times, of the strongest temptation to abandon it. We can per- ceive in our past as well as our prese~ history, proofs that they are industrious, quiet, peaceful, and enterprising citi- zens, and, for the number that has come among us, a most 1856.] The Union the Dangers which beset it. 95 wonderful exhibition of loyalty to our institutions. In war, although they composed the material part of our regular armies and ships crews, they have been gallant, faithful, and true. So much so, that our most distinguished commanders, by land and sea, commend their gallantry and fidelityamong them is scarcely ever a desertion. In peace, there have been no conspiracies, no schemes, no plots to overthrow or subvert our IRepublican institutions, or subject them to any foreign domination. All the schemes and plots and conspiracies, which have ever been gotten up to dissolve this Union, sub. vert this government, or subject us to foreign domination and influence, have been the work of native-born New-Englanders! We do not speak it angrily; but with hearty sorrow. New- England has the misfortune to furnish the entire material of disunion, raw and manufactured for the rest of the Republic. This hostility to foreigners commenced during the session of the Convention that framed the Constitution, by those of its members who subsequently proved themselves to be monocrats and federalists in principle and in feeling. It was renewed by the federal administration of John Adams, in the alien and sedition laws, which the IDemocratic party so indignantly and so terribly overthrew. It was again renewed by the Hartford Convention, that memorable body, which was engaged in schemes of treason, and busied in paralyzing the arm of the American government, when engaged in our arduous and doubtful struggle with Great Britain; while foreigners, now so odious to them, were carrying the flag of the Union in tri- umph, over the bloody fields of Chippewa, Bridgewater and New-Orleans, and humbling the flag of the proud mistress of the ocean. In which should the American people confide? Those plotting and secret schemers against the Union and the Constitution, or those who shed their hearts blood in the defense of our institutions and for the glory of our. flag? In those armies, and in those ships crews, were many Irishmen, fighting against the armies of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Irelandand yet they wavered not! !they fal- tered not!! Can the American people withhold from these men the full privileges of citizenship, when they freely offer their blood and treasure, in proof of their fidelity to the flag and devotion to the institutions of the country? What stronger evidence can they afford of their fidelity? What is it that produces this attachment to our institutions, and devotion to our flag? It is the simple fact, that our insti- tutions open to them the path to honor, wealth, and prefer- 96 The Union~ the Pan ger.~ which be& ~t it. [Feb., rnenta path which was closed to them in the land of their nativity. Close this door, and you dry up every feeling of sympathy and devotion to our country, and make aliens and enemies of them. The American party speaks most wailingly of foreign influ- ence and of the necessity of Americans ruling America. For men who desire to take upon themselves the entire jurisdiction of the politics of the country, this is the most miserable and contemptible clap-trap ever attempted to be played off upon a confiding people. We would inquire of these gentlemen, when it was, since the close of the Revolution, that any other than Americans ruled America, and who now but Ameri- cans rule America? The Governor, the Legislature, the Con- gress, the Judiciary? President or Vice-President, a fort cigner can not be. We should be gratified to receive the information, for it has escaped both our reading and observa- tion. There is scarcely ever a foreigner by birth, either in Congress, in the State Legislatures, or in the Federal or State Judiciaries. No measure has been adopted by the federal government, in the slightest degree tinctured with foreign influence. In some instances the votes of foreign-born citizens may have de~ided an election between native-born candidates; but this could only affect the ascendency of one or the other of the parties which divide the people, and it still leaves Americans to rule America. We defy the proof; that the relations of the country with foreign powers, or any measure of the government has been prejudiced by foreigners, or in the slightest degree tinctured with foreign influence. This cry about foreign influence is a miserable humbug, worthy of political intriguers and tricksters, but altogether unworthy of statesmen and patriots, dealing with the great political rights and interests of 30,000,000 of people. Foreigners are induced to emigrate here, because our extensive domain and produc- tive soil afford them the means of sustenance and comfort, and our institutions protection and freedom, beyond what they enjoyed in Europe. And when they do come, they have as strong inducements to defend and maintain them, as the na- tives have. The privileges and franchises of citizenship, which the government holds out to them, are the very strong- est inducements to patriotism and fidelity, which can be pre- sented. It has, heretofore, attracted to our country, some of the ablest, most learned and useful men of Europe, and while many vicious have come, from too much relaxation in the cxc- 18563 .7uIze Uo~. tk ~Da1~yer8 which leset it OT cution of the naturalization laws, the great mass has been of valuable men, and made useful citizens. But after all, judging of the future by the past, what danger is there to our institutions from the foreign-born population? In 1800, our whole population, native and foreign, black and white, was 5,000,000; in 1810, 7,000,000; in 1820, 9,000,000; in 1880, 12,000,000; in 1840, 17,000,000, and, in 1850, 28,000,000; now, about 27,000,000, of which 4,000,000 are slaves, and not exceeding 8,000,000 foreign-bornso, that the native exceeds the foreign-born population, at least 20,000,000, or more than the whole population in 1840, or any preceding decade. When, then, according to the best arithmetic, save that of Know-Nothingism, will the foreign become equal to the native population, so as to exert any controlling influence, good or bad, upon our social interests, or endanger our free institutions? Certainly not before the stars fall. If some of our learned politicians would visit some of the new States, filled up, almost entirely, by foreign emigrants and their im- mediate descendants, and see their prosperous agriculture, skillful mechanics, moral and religious bearing and industrious habits, and withal their great devotion to the Union and our free institutions, they would come to the conclusion that these people, after all, were not so dangerous to either liberty or virtue as they are represented to be, and that the great mass of them were not to be judged or estimated by those miserably- depraved wretches, who gather about and infest our large cities. They are a different kind of people. To proscribe and disfranchise those, who are already natu.- ralized, as proposed by the American party, would be faith- less and perfidious, and create within our midst, a class hostile to our government. It would arouse a feeling of hostility among the people of other countries prejudicial to our interests, and exclude from the emigration here, the intelligent, the virtuous, and the learned, and bring us only those who care nothing for God or man, or the form of government under which they live. To create a privileged and a proscribed class; to put Catholics and naturalized citizens upon the footing of convicts and free negroes, would sow the whirlwind, and a few years would bring us the storm, and a destructive one it would be. With an area of 3,000,000 of squmwe miles, capable of sus- taining a population of 700,000,000, it is ridiculous to talk about an excess of population, when we have but 27,000,000. A thousand years would not make it as dense as it is in $ 98 like Uhion tke Dangers wkick beset ii. [Feb., Europe, or even in Massachusettsthat spot particularly set apart for religious, political, and moral volcanic eruptions. The federal government, by the Constitution, has no power over the subject of immigration, save only, to pass uniform laws of naturalization, which it has done and which have been in operation fifty-three years, with great success. Who shall emigrate here and who shall exercise the right of suffrage, is a matter belonging solely and exclusively to the States. In whatever State unnaturalized foreigners are permitted to vote, that State has the power to correct it; and in whatever State convicts and paupers from foreign countries land, that State may prohibit them; the federal government has no power to do it. In the whole South, by the last census, there were but 336,000 foreigners, naturalized or not. Why should the South suffer herself to be thrown into commotion on this account, when she is not suffering, or in the remotest danger of suffer. ing from this cause, if there was any thing in it? From its foundation, it has been the policy of our govern- menta policy founded in the niost elevated principles of humanity, liberality, and hospitalityto invite to our country the learned, the virtuous, the enterprising and industrious of other countries, and to make it an asylum for the down-trod- den, oppressed, and distressed of every land; and, in order to win their affections and acquire their confidence, we have held out to them the inducement of full and free citizenship with- out distinction~of birth. The result has been, to fill our coun- try with good citizens, and our armies and navies with gallant and faithful soldiers. Why change a system tbat has worked so successfully, without the slightest detriment? We, at least, are not willing to see the experiment made. If Greece and Rome had given full citizenship to the people they conquered, it would have created an attachment to their governments so ardent, that neither Macedonian phalanxes, nor Gothic and Van- dal hordes could have subdued them. Give these people the pri- vileges of full and complete citizenship, and no foreign influ- ence can detach their allegiance or shake their fidelity to our government. Actual experience has demonstrated this. In the present aspect of the sectional controversy between North and South, it seems to us that this attempted proscrip- tion and disfranchisement by the South, is perfectly suicidal. The very sin charged upon these people, by Northern isms is, that in the exercise of the right of suffrage, they cast their votes for the men, who, standing upon the faith of the Consti- tution, sustain the Constitutional rights of the South. If the 1856.J TAo Union ~ko IXtn~-,er8 wkicA be6et it. South be right, the course of our adopted citizens, in sustain- ing them must be right, and should be approved, at leas4 by the South. In the late presidential election, when the strongest appeals were made, and the most seductive influences employed by the late Whig party, bringing to its aid the glare of military renown, they were impregnable and faithful to the cause of Democracy; and why should Democrats distrust them now? Washington, Jefferson, Madison and a host of able and patri- otic cotemporaries confided in thema confidence never be- trayedand why should we distrust their fidelity? We may be assured there is no reality in these professed apprehensions. It is another attempt at Barnumnizing, to enable its perpetra- tors to seize the government, and divide the spoils. There may be, and no doubt are, many bad men among the foreign- ers in our country, and there are certainly many, as many, comparatively speaking, as among the natives. The statistics of crime, exhibited by the last census, show this. In casting our suifrages or making appointments to office, the eligibility of foreign-born citizens does not necessarily put them into office, and no party maintains that, where qualifications are equal, the foreigner should be preferred. On the contrary, we all admit that the native should be preferred, and there is scarcely an instance in the history of the government in which this rule has been departed from. The Anierican party goes for a total exclusion, however.high the qualification, or virtuous the man; which, we think totally at war with the genius of our free institutions. Leave the voter or the ap- pointing power, when the suffrage is cast, or the appointment made, to determine this question of preference, as existing cir- cumstances decree, and the best interests of the country may require. The Democratic party, following the lead of its wise and patriotic founders, Jefferson, Madison, and others, is op- posed to any material alteration of the existing naturalization laws, except so far as to procure their more cautious and effi- cient execution. The fugitive-slave law of 185O~1, by which the federal government took upon itself through its own officers, the re- clamation of fugitive slaves, as provided for in the constitu- tiona law made necessary by the refusal of the Northern States to execute the act of 1793, to give effect to this consti- tutional provisionis now a source of bitter controversy. By the constitutional compact, the free States undertook, and in good faith were bound to execute this provision, which they 100 [Eke Union dJi& Ji)awge,r& whick beset it. [Feb., failed to do. When Congress undertook to perform the duty imposed by this provision, the Abolition and Free-Soil parties of the Northern States not only refused to execute it, but resisted, defied, and nullified it, and then prated most vociferously about the faith of compromises and the Missouri perfidy. Judg- ing them by their actions, they have determined to afford an asylum to runaway slaves, protect slave-stealers and hold out inducements to slaves to run away from their owners. Is this honestis it good faithis it abiding the Constitution, or is it fraternal to the people of the South? In this sectional quarrel, in which so many of the most exciting elements are brought to bear, all at the same j uncture of time, and when the elements of discord have been fanned by fanatics and traitors, into such an intense blaze, is there any hope that the Union can be preserved? Is it not greatly to be feared that foreign intrigue, unhallowed treason, unscrupu- lous ambition and mad fanaticism are about to accomplish that work of direful calamity, the dissolution of this great, this powerful and this beneficent Union this mighty edifice, erected by unsurpassed wisdom, ardent love of liberty and unequalled patriotism. When we look through the vista of the future, and see the possibility of such an event, and the weight of responsibility which will rest upon those who shall have wrought the mighty ruin, the mind naturally recurs to the question: Where lies the wrongat what door the sin? We proclaim the Sbuth is innocent. By the Union, the South gained in her political, but lost in her pecuniary interests, while the North gained both politically and pecuniarily, as the statistics of commerce conclusively prove. By the Union, we have been protected and strength- ened, until we have grown to be a powerful, prosperous, and free people, and promise, in these elements of greatness, to eclipse the world. In the history of our progress, the South demanded no sacrifice of principle or interest on the part of the North, to their sectional views, save the compacts of the Constitution, and without which the Constitution would not have been made, or the Union founded. All that the South ever demanded or now demands, is, the observance of these compactsits national beneficence, and its sectional and individual equalities. This every Democratic administration, sustained by the Democratic party, always has, and now accords. What is the course of the free-soil partythe Re- publicans (proh pudor!) of the North? They have not only demanded a system of measures, calculated to promote their 1856.] f/ike Unirn the Dangers which beset it. 101 sectional interest at the expense of the South, but they de- mand to prescribe to the South her moral and religious opin- ions; to abolish Slavery as it existed at the time of the form- ation of the government; to prohibit Slavery in any of the territories; to dictate to any new State coming into the Union whether Slavery shall be one of its domestic institutions; to prohibit the sale and transfer of slaves, from one of the Slave- States to the other; to withhold from their owners fugitive slaves, and, in a word, to confine Slavery within its present limits, until they have so encompassed us about, that, when they have acciuired sufficient strength, they may crush it out and entirely. All these purposes, now openly avowed by the fanatics of the North, violating, as they do, the vital in- terests and rights of the South, i~nd annihilating her independ- ence and destroying her prosperity and safety, it is expected of the South, and demanded, that she shall submit to, for the sake of the Union. Let the Abolition-Republicans of the North be assured that she will not! Her spirit of independ- ence, her sense of justice, her knowledge of her rights, and her stern and lofty honor, will not permit it. The Union will cease to be dear to her, if she by it is to be provincialized, domineered, and tyrannized over, with more cruelty than in the days of her colonial bondaoe If in the providence of God, these Northern fanatics, traitors, and disorganizers shall succeed in dissolving this Union who, or what is to be the gainer? Religion ?it will undergo the eclipse of ages. Liberty ?she will be buried in the ruins of the conflagration, without hope of resurrection. Free insti- tutions ?there will scarcely be a wreck of them left. Intolera- ble and crushing despotisn~ will be reared upon their ruins. The North ?she will make perpetual and irreconcileable ene- mies of a race of virtuous, independent people, who by a fair, a liberal, a just, and conciliatory course might have been made sincere and valuable friends. The slaves ?they will be trans- ferred only to a new set of masters and a severer bondage. The world ?the nations will only see the last hope of liberty and free institutions fall into ruins, proclaiming in their fall the incapacity of man for self-government. What calamities will ensue? bloody, and desolating wars, waged with a fero- city and bitterness never before experienced. The conflict of kindred against kindred, for the sake of an inferior race. The wreck of free 1nst~tutions, the crush of freedoms last hope the annihilation of commerce, the extinction of civil and reli- gious liberty, and the establishment of a swarm of unmitigated despotisms. Whether in the long, the bitter, the devastating 102 The Union, the Dangers which beset it. [Feb., and bloody strife, the North or the South shall triumph in the work of destruction, they will but acquire the wreck of power, the ruins of liberty, and a devastated and blighted country. The victor xviii be the vanquished. To avoid these woeful results and sad calamities, the Demo- cratic party North and South, is most ardently strugglingpro- claiming its determined purpose to maintain the Constitution, and the rightsof the South, or perish in the struggle. And what do we see? It is the Southern wing of the American party of which we do not intend to utter an unkind word, or of whose motives make the slightest impeachment, which is engaged in a league and making common cause with the Whigs, Abolitionists, Free-Soilers and American party of the North in a furious and uncompromising war upon the Democratic party, while the Southern American party, if we are to believe their profes- sions, are diametrically opposed to the objects of the Northern party. Thus the South sees in the hands of her inveterate enemies, an arrow feathered from her own wing ready to be sped to her heart. Does not the Southern wing of the Ame- rican party see, that to overthrow the Democratic party is but to put fanaticism, folly, and Northern domination into power? lATe wish the limits of this article, already so protracted, would permit us to cull from their various sources, the un- mistakable evidence that every party and fragment of a party at the North, save the Democratic party, is hostile to the South, and that in crushing the Democratic party, they design to crush the rights of the South if; by any means, they can acquire the strength. In this day, when the political elements are in such fierce agitation and threaten a storm s~ calamitous; when the array of sectional battle is already drawn, and the bloody strife al- most ready to commence, why is it, that many of our greatest and most patriotic statesmenmen whose moral and political influence is sufficient to hush the storm and calm the waves of civil strife, Achilles-like remain in their tents, indifferent to the gathering danger? Now is the time for such men to in- terpose between the excited sections, stay the hand of aggres- sion, proclaim the truths of the Constitution, restore confidence between eitiz~n and citizen, save the Union from destruction, and our happy institutions from ruin. We have been more than surprised at the discontents with the present administration. Upon the slavery question its course ha~ been all that Franklin Pierce expressed previous to his election, and in strict accordance with the Constitution and the Democratic platform. Its state papers have been able 1866.] The Union the Dangrs which leset it. 103 and soundly Democratic, and its course mild but firm and decisive. We know of no preceding administration, in which the principles of Democracy have been more truly and faith- fully pursued. It is true, Gen. Pierce has made some injudi- cious appointments, that had better not have been made and wbat administration has not? but this is no apology for men calling themselves Democrats, for forsaking their party and its principles, and going over to its adversary. Petulance, resent- ment, and private grief should never enter into the considera- tion of governmental administration. We should bear much personal wrong and disappointment, before we abandon a party that maintains those fundamental principles upon which our republican institutions and thc perpetuity of the Union is- founded. Thus, we have expressed our views of the present and fears of the future. We trust in Heaven that our fears will never be realized, and that our apprehended dangers may prove to be but the phantoms of an over-excited imagination. We know we love our country, her free institutions and the Union, and should be thrice happy to see the threatened dangers disappear; but we believe the South has been wronged, outraged, and calumniated, and her rights put in jeopardy. We shall be gratified if in this crude article there shall be found some thought which may be valuable, and awaken the South to a sense of its danger and the necessity of unanimity to avert it. While the rapid whirl of time has greatly improved the in- telligence of the American people, the present condition of things demonstrates the fact that they have neither improved in feelings of public virtue or in the science of free government. We seem about to exhibit that depravity and that recklessness of fanaticism which heretofore caused others to throw away the great blessings of free government, for the curse of despotism. The Ca~sars and Arnolds are too numerous for the Bruti and Washingtons, and anarchy and disorganization are perhaps about to triumph over order and public virtue. The anarchists, the traitors, the fanatics and the factionists of the North are eager to pull down, trample under foot, and destroy the fairest and best-constructed fabric of human liberty, which the wit of man ever did or ever will again devise. Twenty-four million of people are to be enslaved by men of their own race, that three and a half millions of another and an inferior race may change masters! We are neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet, but we venture the prediction, that if the struggle which now seems 104: Medea. [Feb., almost inevitable shall come; if a political earthquake shall shake this great temple of liberty and free institutions into ruins; that in its fall it will not crush the slaveholding States only, but the Northern Statesthose very States that set it in motionwith them. They and their posterity, in con- templating the ruins which their madness and folly have wrought, will deeply lament the rashness which precipitated it. In this fierce and almost unequal contest of the Democracy with these fearful factions, there is one thing that strikes with peculiar astonishment; it is, that there are so many members of the Whig party, who know and feel that the Democratic party are engaged in desperate struggle to save the Union and Constitution, and yet who so far remember and cherish the animosities and prejudices of by-gone conflicts as to aid the traitorous and disorganizing factions, by either affording direct assistance or by standing idly by. Eternal honor and gratitude await the noble self-sacrificing patriots, who, true to the sublime instincts of liberty, rally to the support of the Democratic party, in this evident, portentous and doubtful struggle, on which is staked liberty, republican institutions, and the Union. LYNOIIBURG, VA. J. G MEDEA. SENECA, ACT I. Meden, abandoned by Jason, Invokes revenge. I. YE Gods ot marriage, guardians of the bed Hallowed by sacred rites! Why to our shores was conquering Tethys led By heavens eternal lights? Wherefore, stern ruler of the sounding sea Wherefore, nil-seeing sun Wherefore, thou three-formed goddess, Hecate, Was his course safely run? II. Come, thou lost woman, to revenge invoke The Gods of heaven and hell! They to whom Jason sware the oaths he broke When wronged Medea fell.

Medea 104-106

104: Medea. [Feb., almost inevitable shall come; if a political earthquake shall shake this great temple of liberty and free institutions into ruins; that in its fall it will not crush the slaveholding States only, but the Northern Statesthose very States that set it in motionwith them. They and their posterity, in con- templating the ruins which their madness and folly have wrought, will deeply lament the rashness which precipitated it. In this fierce and almost unequal contest of the Democracy with these fearful factions, there is one thing that strikes with peculiar astonishment; it is, that there are so many members of the Whig party, who know and feel that the Democratic party are engaged in desperate struggle to save the Union and Constitution, and yet who so far remember and cherish the animosities and prejudices of by-gone conflicts as to aid the traitorous and disorganizing factions, by either affording direct assistance or by standing idly by. Eternal honor and gratitude await the noble self-sacrificing patriots, who, true to the sublime instincts of liberty, rally to the support of the Democratic party, in this evident, portentous and doubtful struggle, on which is staked liberty, republican institutions, and the Union. LYNOIIBURG, VA. J. G MEDEA. SENECA, ACT I. Meden, abandoned by Jason, Invokes revenge. I. YE Gods ot marriage, guardians of the bed Hallowed by sacred rites! Why to our shores was conquering Tethys led By heavens eternal lights? Wherefore, stern ruler of the sounding sea Wherefore, nil-seeing sun Wherefore, thou three-formed goddess, Hecate, Was his course safely run? II. Come, thou lost woman, to revenge invoke The Gods of heaven and hell! They to whom Jason sware the oaths he broke When wronged Medea fell. 3liedea. Chaos and Night, black as my grief and choice Souls of the damned, I call; Dark Plutob! with no auspicious voice I do adjure ye all I III. Ye without pity, ye with torments bound, Whose foul and matted hair With hissing serpents wreathed, shakes horror round, And terrible despair; Ye who with bloody hand the torch embrace Which lights the damned to woe Grant to Medea all your deadly grace To curse her deadliest foe! I-v.. Come as of yore ye stood my bed beside, Sublime in that dark grace~ When by my hand husband and father died, And perished all their race. And if there be a greater ill in life, In hell a keener woe, Grant that my husband false, in death and life Such agony may know! V. Gods! let him live to wander far away Where unknown cities rise, Hated and trembling, exiled and astray, Beneath the strangers skies. Weak and in want, without or friend or home, Type of a living lie, Let your whips drive him hopeless still to roam, Till he drop down to die. VI. Yea! bend his proud heart with your lash of fire Until, in abject fear, Me he may long foreven me desire, And wish Medea near. And, last and worstO Gods of Hell! the worst May he more children raise, Dread as Medea when their sire she cursed, And than himself more base! 8 1856.] 105 1 (~ Bctd~m-Bctden. [Feb., BAD EN - BAD EN. BY EUGENE GUINOT. THE season at Baden commences in the month of May; the official open- ing takes place towards the close of spring, and from that period the fashion- able world begins ~to arrive: at first, slowly by ones and twos; then the ranks close up, the crowd increases gradually and becomes every day more numerous and brilliant. Those who having been the first to arrive have made excursions into the Black Forest and the Grand Duchy which borders on the Rhine, Switzerland, and Wurtemberg, find on their return, the city invested by a splendid army to which every nation of Europe has furnished a picked contingent. Baden now presents itself under a new aspect; hav- ing surprised it making ready for the festival, we now see it in all the splendor of its adornment, in all the brilliancy of its joyous animation. Do you wish to know what new guests the city has received during your absence, here is the list of strangers given in the Badelilatt with minute regularity. The Bc& deldcttt is the gazette of Baden-Baden; be not alarmed at its title of gazette, in it you will find neither politics, criticism, nor any thing calculated to trouble or stupefy the readers mind. A model journal, the Badelilcttt never says too much; makes no pretension to profound views of things; runs after nothing brilliant and does not pique itself on discover- ing political secrets and being in the confidence of Metternich. Simple in its make up and of convenient size, it offers every day in its octavo page a precious collection of announcements and advertisements, a programme of the weeks amusements, the address of the principal tradesmen and a de- tailed account of all the novelties recently received from Paris; in a word, it contains all that can be of any interest to the public. But that which con- stitutes the chief merit of this admirable gazette and secures its prosperity, is the perfect regularity with which it each day gives the list of strangers as they arrive at Baden-Baden. Everywhere you find morning and evening papers: the Badelilcttt is the only journal in the world which appears exactly at five oclock in the after- noon. The hour is happily chosen; at five Baden dines, and at the exact moment when soup is served, the carrier enters the dining-room and distri- butes to each guest a damp copy of the Gazette for the moderate sum of six kreutzers. Every one hastens to read the first two pages on which are in- scribed the names of all the strangers who arrived on the morning and even- ing of the preceding day, set down in regular order with the places where

Eugene Guinot Guinot, Eugene Baden-Baden 106-113

1 (~ Bctd~m-Bctden. [Feb., BAD EN - BAD EN. BY EUGENE GUINOT. THE season at Baden commences in the month of May; the official open- ing takes place towards the close of spring, and from that period the fashion- able world begins ~to arrive: at first, slowly by ones and twos; then the ranks close up, the crowd increases gradually and becomes every day more numerous and brilliant. Those who having been the first to arrive have made excursions into the Black Forest and the Grand Duchy which borders on the Rhine, Switzerland, and Wurtemberg, find on their return, the city invested by a splendid army to which every nation of Europe has furnished a picked contingent. Baden now presents itself under a new aspect; hav- ing surprised it making ready for the festival, we now see it in all the splendor of its adornment, in all the brilliancy of its joyous animation. Do you wish to know what new guests the city has received during your absence, here is the list of strangers given in the Badelilatt with minute regularity. The Bc& deldcttt is the gazette of Baden-Baden; be not alarmed at its title of gazette, in it you will find neither politics, criticism, nor any thing calculated to trouble or stupefy the readers mind. A model journal, the Badelilcttt never says too much; makes no pretension to profound views of things; runs after nothing brilliant and does not pique itself on discover- ing political secrets and being in the confidence of Metternich. Simple in its make up and of convenient size, it offers every day in its octavo page a precious collection of announcements and advertisements, a programme of the weeks amusements, the address of the principal tradesmen and a de- tailed account of all the novelties recently received from Paris; in a word, it contains all that can be of any interest to the public. But that which con- stitutes the chief merit of this admirable gazette and secures its prosperity, is the perfect regularity with which it each day gives the list of strangers as they arrive at Baden-Baden. Everywhere you find morning and evening papers: the Badelilcttt is the only journal in the world which appears exactly at five oclock in the after- noon. The hour is happily chosen; at five Baden dines, and at the exact moment when soup is served, the carrier enters the dining-room and distri- butes to each guest a damp copy of the Gazette for the moderate sum of six kreutzers. Every one hastens to read the first two pages on which are in- scribed the names of all the strangers who arrived on the morning and even- ing of the preceding day, set down in regular order with the places where 1856.] Bade2~-Bade~. 107 they have put up, so that in reading their names you learn also their resi- dence, and see in what proportion the new-corners are distributed between the hotel dAngleterre, de Russie, de 1 Europe, the Three Kings, the Stag, the Sun, the Salmon, etc., etc. Twice a week these daily lists are added to the general list which the Badeidcttt pi~blishes, and thus is formed each year a picture of the visitors who have adorned Baden-Baden with their presence. All the distinguished personages that Europe reckons, all the eminent and celebrated of the age are written on this tablet. These lists so curiously collected, are the Golden book of contemporary aristocracy. Iii its close columns, figure the most high-sounding and glorious names. Roy- alty, high birth, opulence, talent, beauty, all are there. On every page names environned with a splendid halo, crowned with diamonds, laurels, or flowers, illustrious for birth, great actions, genius, or grace. Nothing is wanting that makes the glory or beauty of earth. Sovereigns and princes, great lords and great captains, millionaires and poets, dandies and gay women have come with a crowd at their heels. All must make this pilgrim- age commanded by fashion, encouraged by example and recompensed with pleasure. At Baden all greatnesses are modest. Princes wish their rank unknown7 or at least not to be called to their notice; they suppress their titles, and hide their majesty as much as possible behind a strict incognito. This ex- ample, set with such good taste by the great personages, has become a general rule which is applied to all the magnificos at Baden-Baden. The pomp of the thing is hidden under the simplicity of its name. Thus by general consent, the palace where all the entertainments and fetes are given is called Conversation House. A building of fairy-like elegance and art. The pencil of Ciceri has decorated the apartments of this temple consecrated to all the pleasures which enchant the eye, the mind and the senses. No- thing can be imagined more imposing than the grand hall glittering with gilding, and remarkable for the noble style of its architecture and decora- tion. Two other saloons, furnished with regal luxury in the style of the last two centuries, are reserved for particular occasions. Then there opens be- fore you a ravishing gallery, fresh and smiling as Spring. It is all flowers; the ceiling is enamelled with roses and violets; daisies, carnations, and came- has are grouped in bouquets, and hang in garlands on the wainscoting; and festoons of flowers cover the frames of windows and doors. At the two ex. tremities of the gallery, orange trees, pomegranates and oleanders complete the enchantment. Here three times a week, dancing and music delight a select company of two or three hundred persons. Saturday is reserved for grand balls, when the whole world of strangers at Baden inundates the vast saloons of the palace. How shall we describe these entertainments, their dazzling magnificence, and the wonderful society composed of all the aristocracies of Europe; a true Congress where France, Russia, Germany, England, Italy, and Spain 108 Baden-Baden. [Feb., send their most illustrious representatives, and their most beautiful and graceful women? In the vast and noble edifice whose centre is taken up by what are called the conversation rooms, the right wing is occupied as a restaurant, the left by a library, reading-room, and theatre. The restaurant, which, in the lan- gu age of Baden is called a restaurcttion, is beyond doubt the most magnifi- cent gastronomic establishment in the world.* Two hundred guests can be comfortably accommodated in this immense and sumpt~uous dining-saloon, where rich arabesques frame the smiling pictures of Ciceri. At the table dh6te of the restauration, a dinner is served unrivalled in luxurious perfec- tion and abundance, which costs but four francs, wine not included. In the best hotels the price of a dinner is three francs, and less than this in inferior hotels. Everywhere symphonies executed by full orchestras enliven the repast. A legion of musicians takes possession of Baden during the entire season and accompanies with varied airs the different episodes of this perpetual fete. At the left of the peristyle, which forms the entrance of the palace, is the literary gallery of M. Marx; the Misses Marx preside over the book-store where may be found all the last new books reprinted by the Belgians, those abominable pirates, who, sterile to produce, incapable of writing and totally deprived of imagination, live by others wit, rob thought on the highway and fraudulently copy the works of their neighbors. The reading-room exhibits on its tables the principal journals of every nation not excepting those marked by the decided tone of their democratic coloring. The Grand Duchy of Baden is a country of intellectual freedom, open to every manifes- tation of thought, and accessible to all shades of political creed. Each day has its pleasures so distributed as to avoid either emptiness or sa- tiety; every moment has its employment, and the hours have but one fault theyfly too fast. The morning is devoted to walking in the environs, and the country so abounds in picturesque situations, is so well furnished with ro- mantic ruins, so admirably adorned with frowning castles, green hills, grace- ful retreats, sombre forests, foaming torrents and fresh cascades, that the entire season does not suffice to exhaust the rich variety of daily excursions. After dinner, the loungers resort to the alley of shops which traverses the park and ascends to the Conversation House. Here a thick shade protects the promenaders against the ardent rays of the sun. On each side, in small wooden stalls rather than stores, are exposed for sale all kind of wares and merchandise. It is one great bazaar where each merchant wears the cos- tume of his country. The industrious mechanician of the Black Forest vends his wooden clocks; the Tyrolean keeps a full assortment of articles made of chamois leather; the Hungarian exhibits his cloth, the Bohemian spreads * The French author would hardly believe, probably, that out on the con- fines of Western American civilization, a dining-saloon where twice that number can dine comfortably, is not thought any thing very surprising.AM. ED. 1856.] Baden-Bctder~. 109 out the riches of his glass-ware sparkling like rubies and diamonds; the cane merchant establishes his shop in the open air, and undistracted by the curiosity of the passers by, sculptures with his knife, pleasing or grotesque figures, and if you feel so inclined he will carve your bust on the head of a cane; The dealers in engravings, silk, Parisian jewelry, and Havana cigars complete the number occupying the Bazaar. The space stretching in front of the Conversation House and which is called the Terrace, divides with the Lichtenthal walk the honors of the even- ing promenade. After dinner the crowd takes possession of the tables placed in front of the cafe of the restauration; the Terrace fills with loun- gers; the curious look for and point out to each other the illustrious visitors of Baden: the princes, celebrated men, great ladies, and beauties of renown. Do not believe, however, that the society at Baden is composed entirely of princes and great personages. The hospitality of this amiable residence admits within its bosom every condition of rank and fortune. The most retiring visitor is received and treated just as the most brilliant. Here as elsewhere, steal in some of those adventurers, those audacious intriguers who always follow at the heels of the fashionable world. How should Baden escape the scourge which visits all the great cities, all the capitals of Europe, where in borrowed plumage these birds of prey penetrate into the most elegant and noblest mansions? But although it may be difficult to stop them on the way and prevent them from entering, their hostile plans are generally frustrated. The most incessant surveillance watches over the peaceful retreat of Baden. The most perfect order reigns amidst this chang- ing crowd, and no trouble ever ruffles the polished surface of a society com- posed of such dissimilar elements. A suspicious figure, an equivocal gait are no sooner marked than absolute power clothed in black and gloved in white, takes to one side this spoil-sport, and says, Sir, you are not exactly in your place here. Madam, the air of Baden will not improve your health. If the person to whom these words are addressed pretends not to understand them, he is told to quit Baden immediately and in twenty-four hours to be beyond the frontiers of the Grand Duchy. There is no reply, obedience without hesitation must follow, unless you prefer to travel with a strong escort. This is arbitrary, if you will, but every honest man will ap- prove this kind and tutelary tyranny which manifests itself only for the main- tenance of order, the triumph of morality and the secure enjoyment of every pleasure. During the day the style of dress is negligent. The most punctilious dandies wear linen coats and straw hats. At the dinner-hour dress puts on a more ceremonious character, and in the evening displays all its marvels; although, at small evening parties, men are admitted in frock-coats. Ele- gant women at Baden, as elsewhere, find occasion to dress three or four times a day, beginning with the morning negUg~, and ending with the full dress for a ball. The winter at Paris, St. Petersburg, Vienna, or London exhibits nothing comparable to the balls at the Conversation House. No- 110 Baden-Baden. [Feb., where is seen such an assemblage, such luxury, such brilliancy, such a re- union of the great and dignified, nowhere such a bouquet composed of flowers from every clime, attractions from every land. Where can you see this piquant mixture, which exhibits in the same quadrille a sovereign princess and a simple gentleman, an hereditary prince and a brokers wife, and at the same whist-table the four sides occupied by the four quarters of the globe~ If you are fond of music, concerts are not wanting. It is seldom that the attraction of these entertainments is not heightened by some famous names. The Golden book has inscribed on its pages the names of Paganini, ThaI- berg, Beriot, Liszt, Ole Bull, Madame Pleyel. They who have made instru- ments illustrious, meet those who have rendered song glorious, Rubini, La- blache, Mario, Pasta, Malibran, Catalani and others, of whom the nomencla- ture would be too long. It may be said with truth that Baden gives the tone to Paris. It is a Congress where ~noble representatives from every country discuss the grave questions which occupy the world of fashion. Here, during the summer, is decided what shall be the fashionable dctnse for the following winter in Paris. Thus, before being adopted by the leaders in Parisian ball-rooms, the hongroise, the polka, the mazurka and the redowa made their d~93itt at Baden-Baden. When there is neither ball nor concert, the gay world meets for gossip, and then the Conversation House completely justifies its name. Every thing that is refined and courteous in speech is welcomed. Each one talks after the manner of his nation; but, to avoid the confusion of Babel, by common consent, the French language is adopted. Thus the world of fashion and good taste decrees and renders a homage to his language, of which a Frenchman may well be proud. The French language reigns supreme in the aristocratic mansions of Europe, and presides over the entente cordicde of all intelligences. Germans, Englishmen, and Russians speak French as it is spoken in the Faubourg St. Germain. The acutest observer, the most attentive listener could scarcely detect the nationality of the inter- locutors. Each one contributes his share of delicate wit, refined pleasantry and interesting revelations, in the recital of those true anecdotes which compose the history of the Springs of Baden-Baden, and which are no less curious than the ancient legends of the country. A noble Hungarian lord, Count Christian W, had come to pass the season at Baden, accompanied by his daughter Helen. Young, beautiful, charming and heiress to an immense fortune left her by her mother, the young countess soon found herself surrounded by a host of admirers. Adorers of all kinds were not wanting, rich and poor, noble and obscure, tender and passionate, grave and gay. It was a perpetual tournament, of which she was the queen, and where the aspirants contended for her hand, by exhibiting their address, grace and seductive qualities. When she en- tered her carriage ten cavaliers were in the saddle caracoling around her ecd6elie. At the ball, the most elegant dancers were devoted to her. They 1856.] Baden-Baden. 111 had neither cares, attentions nor sighs but for her, whereat many beautiful women, French, English, and Russian were particularly mortified. Amongst these pressing suitors Helen selected the most worthless. The Chevalier Gaetan M. was, it is true, a charming fellow, pale and delicate, with fine blue eyes and long black wavy hair: in the place of true passion, he had eloquence of look and word; in short, he dressed with taste, danced marvel- lously and sang like Rubini. But unhappily, these advantages were con- trasted by great vices. A dissipated gambler, and unprincipled, the Cheva- lier Gaetan had quitted Naples in consequence of some scandalous adven- tures in which he had been implicated. The Count, after having informed himself of these facts, desired, but too late, to put his daughter on her guard against a dangerous affection. Helen listened neither to the advice, the prayers nor the orders of her father. The man for whom he endea- vored to destroy her esteem was already master of her heart, and she obsti- nately refused to believe in the disgraceful antecedents of the young Italian. If Gaetan had had to do with a father who lacked energy, perhaps he would have become the happy husband of the young Countess, and the peaceful possessor of the immense fortune with which he was so frantically in love. But the Count knew how to carry his point either by management or force. lie was an old lion. He had preserved all the vigor of youth, and all the rude firmness of an indomitable character, which nothing but paternal ten- derness had ever softened. Self-willed in his resolutions, stern in his exe- cution of them, he cast about for means to put hor8 du eomlat this carpet knight, who had dared to undertake to become his son-in-law in spite of him, when accident threw into his hands a letter which Gaetan had written to Helen. The Chevalier, impatient to attain the goal of his desires, pro- posed, in direct terms to the young Countess, an elopement, and proposed a clandestine meeting, at the hour when the Count was in the habit of going out to play whist with some gentlemen of his acquaintance, at the Conversa- tion House. A rose placed in helens belt was to be the signal of consent. The young girl had not read the adroitly-intercepted note. Put this flower in youz~ belt, said the Count to her, offering a rose, and come with me. Helen smilingly obeyed, and took her fathers arm. In the course of their walk they met Gaetan, who, seeing the rose, was overjoyed. Then the Count conducted his daughter to the residence of one of their acquaintances, and requested her to wait until he came for her. That done, he returned to the little house in which he lived, at the outskirts of Baden, on the Lichtenthal road. He had sent away his servants and was alone. At the appointed hour Gaetan arrived at the rendezvous, leaped lightly over the wall of the garden, and, finding the door shut entered the house through one of the low windows. Then mounting the stairs, filled with pleasing emotions, he directed his steps towards the apartment of Helen. There, instead of the daughter, he found the father armed with a brace of pi4ols. 112 Baden-Ba~c1~sn. [Feb., The Count closed the door, and said to the wretched Gaetan trembling with terror: I could kill you; I have the right to do so. You have entered my house at night. You have broken into it. I could treat you as a felon nothing could be more natural. But, sirs replied Gaetan, almost inaudibly; I am not a robber. And what are you, then? You have come to steal my daughterto steal an heiressto steal a fortune. Here is your letter, which unveiled to me your criminal intentions. I shall show you no mercy! But, to take your life I had no need of this trap. You know the skill of my right arma duel would have long ago rid me of you. To avoid scandal I did not wish a duel, and, now, I will slay you only at the last extremity, if you refuse to obey me. What is your will, sir? You must leave Baden, not in a few daysnot tomorrow, but this very instant. You must put two hundred leagues between it and you, and never again come into the presence of my daughter or myself As the price of your obedience, and to pay your travelling expenses, I will give you twenty thousand francs. The Chevalier wished to speak. Not a word ! cried the Count, in a voice of thunder. You know me, understand! I hold your life at my mercy, and a moments hesitation will be punished with death. I obey, stammered the Chevalier. In good time! Your twenty thousand francs are in that secretary, take them. Permit me to decline your offer. An imperious gesture overcame the false modesty which the Chevalier expressed feebly and like a man who declines only for forms sake. But, said he, the secretary is locked. Open it. There is no key in it. Break the lock then. What! you wish me to? Break the lock, or Ill blow your brains out. The pistol was again presented as an argument which admitted no reply. Gaetan obeyed. It is well ! said the Count. Take that package of bank.notes; they are yours. Have you a pocket-book ? Yes. What does it contain ? Some papersletters addressed to me. Let your pocket-book fall in front of the secretary you have broken open. What? 1856.] A Kother Lost. 113 I must have proof which will convict you. But But, sir, I mean to have here all the evidences of a burglary. I mean that the robber shall be known. Robber, or death! Choose! Ah! your choice is made. I was sure you would be reasonable. Now you are about to fly. You will go before me. I do not quit you until you are a league from Baden. For the rest, make youxue].f easy. I will return late, and will enter no complaint until to-morrow. You may easily escape pur- suit, and if my protection becomes necessary, reckon on me. Begone ! After this adventure, which made a great noise, Helen could no longer doubt. Gaetan was banished from her heart, and she married one of her cousins, captain in a regiment of cavalry in the service of the Emperor of Austria. A MO THEI~ LOST N~vsn more to hear her saying: Darling! are you ill, or well ? Gently on our forehead laying Hands that like a blessing fell. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to wonder~ sighing, When the busy day will close, So with heart to heart replying We may tell its joys and woes. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to feel her gliding By the bed her prayers had blest, With her hand the candle biding, Lest it should disturb our rest. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to know shes keeping Watch on all we say or do; Fondly anxious, waking, sleeping, With a care for ever new. Oh! my mother, never more! Other hands may gently tend us, Other hearts be heal and true, Other loves their treasures lend us But they can not love like you. Mother! mother! never more! S. w. C.

S. W. C. C., S. W. A Mother Lost 113-114

1856.] A Kother Lost. 113 I must have proof which will convict you. But But, sir, I mean to have here all the evidences of a burglary. I mean that the robber shall be known. Robber, or death! Choose! Ah! your choice is made. I was sure you would be reasonable. Now you are about to fly. You will go before me. I do not quit you until you are a league from Baden. For the rest, make youxue].f easy. I will return late, and will enter no complaint until to-morrow. You may easily escape pur- suit, and if my protection becomes necessary, reckon on me. Begone ! After this adventure, which made a great noise, Helen could no longer doubt. Gaetan was banished from her heart, and she married one of her cousins, captain in a regiment of cavalry in the service of the Emperor of Austria. A MO THEI~ LOST N~vsn more to hear her saying: Darling! are you ill, or well ? Gently on our forehead laying Hands that like a blessing fell. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to wonder~ sighing, When the busy day will close, So with heart to heart replying We may tell its joys and woes. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to feel her gliding By the bed her prayers had blest, With her hand the candle biding, Lest it should disturb our rest. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to know shes keeping Watch on all we say or do; Fondly anxious, waking, sleeping, With a care for ever new. Oh! my mother, never more! Other hands may gently tend us, Other hearts be heal and true, Other loves their treasures lend us But they can not love like you. Mother! mother! never more! S. w. C. 114 The Crime of O~ce. [Feb., THE CRIME OF OFFICE. ALL office holders are, ipso facto, criminals, if not in public opinion, at least for all the intents and purposes of the manu- facturers of public opinionthe makers of newspapers. The pet criminals of the press, are, however, the gentlemensupe- rior, and subordinatewho are entrusted by the Federal gov- ernment with the duty of collecting the National Revenue. We hav& a fancy for looking at the philosophy of the subject a little. It may be a very bold thing in us to do so. Proba- bly it is; because our philosophy may suit neither the news- paper men nor the office-holders. In point of fact, also, we do not care a button whether it does or does not. One man in his life plays many parts; and in ours we have played both the parts referred to. We have held office, and made newspapers; and upon our conscience we think, as a general rule, the first to be the more honest employment of the two. In the first, a man may keep truth on his side; in the second, his soul is hourly endangered by a fatal necessity for lying. In short, if your office-holder, like Touchstones ill-roasted egg, is damned, all on one side ; your newspaper editor has no side at all for heavens mercy to forgive. In respect, however, they are both public, they are both very vile lives; and for both of them as they are spare lives~ they go against our stomach. To our philosophy, however. Patrick Henry, in the Virginia Convention of 1788, said: To these are to be added oppressive excise-men and custom- house officers. Sir, the people have an hereditary hatred to custom-house officers. And in another place he says: On the other hand, there are rich, fat Federal emolumentsyour rich, snug, fine, fat Federal offices ;the number of collectors of taxes and excises will out- number anything from the States. To fan this hereditary hatred, and whip me these fine, fat Federal knaves of collectors, naval officers, and surveyors, has been the delightful employment of the public press from that day to this. When one party is in power, the other takes up the cudgels. Language fails to express their indignation at the enormities practiced by the Ins. Goaded and stung, as by

S. W. C. C., S. W. The Crime of Office 114-124

114 The Crime of O~ce. [Feb., THE CRIME OF OFFICE. ALL office holders are, ipso facto, criminals, if not in public opinion, at least for all the intents and purposes of the manu- facturers of public opinionthe makers of newspapers. The pet criminals of the press, are, however, the gentlemensupe- rior, and subordinatewho are entrusted by the Federal gov- ernment with the duty of collecting the National Revenue. We hav& a fancy for looking at the philosophy of the subject a little. It may be a very bold thing in us to do so. Proba- bly it is; because our philosophy may suit neither the news- paper men nor the office-holders. In point of fact, also, we do not care a button whether it does or does not. One man in his life plays many parts; and in ours we have played both the parts referred to. We have held office, and made newspapers; and upon our conscience we think, as a general rule, the first to be the more honest employment of the two. In the first, a man may keep truth on his side; in the second, his soul is hourly endangered by a fatal necessity for lying. In short, if your office-holder, like Touchstones ill-roasted egg, is damned, all on one side ; your newspaper editor has no side at all for heavens mercy to forgive. In respect, however, they are both public, they are both very vile lives; and for both of them as they are spare lives~ they go against our stomach. To our philosophy, however. Patrick Henry, in the Virginia Convention of 1788, said: To these are to be added oppressive excise-men and custom- house officers. Sir, the people have an hereditary hatred to custom-house officers. And in another place he says: On the other hand, there are rich, fat Federal emolumentsyour rich, snug, fine, fat Federal offices ;the number of collectors of taxes and excises will out- number anything from the States. To fan this hereditary hatred, and whip me these fine, fat Federal knaves of collectors, naval officers, and surveyors, has been the delightful employment of the public press from that day to this. When one party is in power, the other takes up the cudgels. Language fails to express their indignation at the enormities practiced by the Ins. Goaded and stung, as by 1856.1 The Crime of Qffice. 115 a swarm of thirsty mosquitoes, the people turn to and turn out the criminals. The king is dead! Long live the king! The Grand Chamberlain breaks his old rod, and picks up a new one. The Outs walk in, and the Ins walk out. But scarce is the change effected when the press opens again, like dogs baying the moon, with the same agonised howl of insulted patriotism, and outraged virtue. The poor people stand aghast. They have done all that was told them, and, lo! they are no better off than before. The howl has only passed from one set of jaws to the other, and hunger screams as viciously from a Whig throat as a Democratic. The good, honest, innocent souls turned out one set of tenants, and swept and garnished the house, and behold! the new tenants are nothing but seven other devils, worse than the first. Now this would be very terrible, and heartbreaking, if it were not very farcical. And the worst of it is, that, like the majority of English farces, the jokes are all staleveritable Joseph Millers, with venerable beards, hanging down to their waists, and hoary with the rime of age. The tirade of one party will stand for the objurgation of the other. The garment of curses fits either wearer indifferently well. Pick up a twenty-year-old file of an opposition news- paper, change nothing but names and dates, and your slash- ing article is ready to your hand. It is, in fact, matter for surprise that some enterprising printer has not had a set of stereotype plates cast, with blanks punched for those, and ad- vertised something after the following manner: A. B. keeps constantly on hand the best standing material of the trade, namely, articles on official peculation; dereliction of duty; enormous salaries; dangerous perquisites; illegal fees, etc., etc. N.B. He would call attention particularly to his articles on Removals: they are copyrighted, and embrace the whole subject. The Infamous article is conceded to be a miracle of invention. Also, the Poor Inspector and his distressed family, which he takes this opportunity of assuring the public has not been used above eleven times since the last change of administration. Really, those plates would pay. Get behind the scenes, oh! sympathising public, before you spoil your eyes, crying at the tragedy. You will see the mur- dered men walk off as livelily, and with as good a stomach for a steak and a pot of beer, as ever. The disconsolate widow shall put off her weeds and polk marvellously the rest of the night, and the persecuted orphan go home to a jolly supper and a sound sleep. 116 Tite Crime of Office. [Feb., So we will step behind the scenes, if you please, a minute with you. It is a printing office. Be careful how you step, or you will make that sort of pi which printers have no relish for. There sits the editor of the paper which has aroused your indignation against Federal officials. That is the identical man who has thundered in your startled ears the tale of enormities practiced by collectors and surveyors. The man with whom secretaries of the treasury are butchers, and minor function- aries, boa constrictors. What do you think of him? An honest-looking fellow enough, isnt he? He told you last week how they made appointments at the custom-house, and your hereditary hatred grew rampant at the vile disclosure. You read how honest, good men were put aside, and party hacks and tools, the refuse and sweepings of every city, ward, or country village, appointed because they had done the dirty work of a political party. Terrible to think of.wasnt it? What is the nation coming to? My good, credulous friend, what would you think if I should tell you that that large bun. dle of virtuous indignation wasan Alderman? Yerily and truly, an Alderman. You know what an Alderman is now-a- days. Read something in the papers, perhaps, about Indict. ments. Of course you did. You are posted. You can fancy how he got into the City Council, cant you? If you be a New-Yorker, your imagination will not be much strained to conjure up Broadway railroad lines; Joseph Walker wrecks ; felons bailed; fighting men maintained; a little murder, now and then, slubbered up; and all that sort of generous devotion to the public interest, and the good of so- ciety. You will see it all, with your minds eye, at a wink. For you are shrewd, very shrewd, and down on all kinds of corruption. But you would be a little surprised, I know you would, if I should tell you that our virtuous friend there had held office under the Federal government as long as any other man, and that the on dit goes he received something in the neighborhood of a hundred thousand dollars in the way of salary, and public printing, and pickings from first to last. You stare. Your faith is a little shaken. You wont believe everything you read in the newspaper to-morrow morning, and it will be lucky for you if you do not. You have probably got enough of one of the public virtues. Let us try another. Step over the way into a second news- paper office. Here you shall see a round portly gentleman, who has howled as loud as any. In fact, you have fairly shud 1856.] [Eke Crime of Office. 117 dered at the pictures he has drawn of official corruption, and hardness of heart. You have wondered how any administra- tion could hold up its head after such excoriations, such Maria Monkish disclosures of the revolting secrets of its prison-house. My poor friend, the writers of bad romances are not all dead, neither are the fools who read and believe them. Do you know that gentleman there, who dips his pen in everything except truth and common sense, was amongst the most eager grabbers of office. And do you know he never said anything about official corruption, or administration crime, until he failed to get a slice of the bag and a piece of the fish ?Melancholy, but true, my dear indignant friend. You have changed your mind, on this showing, I see; and are preparing to go away much perplexed. Farewell !~Think it over, and when we meet again, tell me what, in your opinion, constitutes the crime of office. Hold, a moment. Before you go, let me hint to you what my opinion makes it. It may help you to a solution. The crime of office is not, then, putting out one set of men, or putting in another. Speaking as Democrats, we say, and know, that the public service is safer in the hands of the Democratic party than any other. History sustains the assertion, and the action of the people evinces their steady belief in its truth. It can not however be charged as a crime when the men of other parties are substituted. It is a great mistake, a deplorable mistake, and the people commonly repent their folly concur- rently with its consummation. As they pay the piper, how- ever, they have an undoubted right to choose the tune he shall play, and dance to it as long as suits them. Nor is it the man- ner of men who are appointed. It is the inequality of remu- neration. An administration appoints its high officers; and in their turn they place the crowd of subordinates. That these are not always chosen from the most virtuous and worthy of the community is too true. But the fault is not in the superiors; it is in the system which makes them first, and controls them afterwards. Appointed for political services merely, they are compelled to carry out the system, and appoint in their turn for the same cause. Their electrnn is narrowed by an arbitrary rule; their choice is limited to the workers of a party, and the laborer is claimed to be worthy of his hire. They are not permitted to ask, is this the best man for the place ?but, is the place the best that can be found for the man? Thus, blind agents of a superior ne 118 The Crime of Office. [Feb., cessity, beyond the view of the public generally, they become responsible for the character and conduct of a thousand men, of whose character and conduct they never knew anything, and never could know anything, but that they were sharp party practitioners, and must have their feein office. They are at the mercy of innumerable dependents, whom they feed, but can not control beyond a certain limit, and that limit a very narrow one. One or many of these men prove incapable, or dishonest, or vicious in any wayand the gentleman who ap- pointed is instantly arraigned at the bar of public opinion, the grand jury of the press haul him up before them, and seldom fail to find a true bill against himfor another mans crime or folly. Theres wisdom for you, as Captain Cuttle says. Having some inkling of this, it is commonly charged by the opposition press that the heads of departments are converted into mere political machines for placing and displacing men in office. And beyond thathaving, according to the fatal law of their own official existence, culled out all the workers of the party they hold ofthe ward wire-pullers, and convention makers, and resolution backers, iind ticket peddlers, and public meeting packers and clacquettrst hey are expected to keep them working ; to keep them in public meetings, and resolu- tions, and ward committees, and all the rest of the machinery of agitation and political high life below stairs. Of course, such business would be quite enough to occupy their time if they did it, and the duties of their respective offices as by law established, which they are popularly supposed to discharge, would have to be mainly confided to the hands of deputies. These subordinates in that event must of course too, have all the brains and tact, and knowledge of the law, and business talent, which would fit them for the highest offices in the re- public? It is charged often by the opposition press that such is the fact. Do you believe it? Would it be a natural thing to happen in this country? Did you ever hear of a man really great, and fitted for high employment, who was at the same time a reliable Democrat, whom the people, God bless them, ever left long in a subordinate station? Did you ever hear of one ~~ho could make popular Democratic music, who ever played second fiddle long to any other man; unless he happened to be a drunkard, or a vicious fellow determined to spoil his own chances? We never met with such an one; and, depend upon it, that kind of talk is all bosh. You cant keep a man down in this country, when nature has endowed him with the power of rising. The people always take care of him, if he is true to them. 1856.J The Crime of Qffice. 119~ Suppose, for the sake of argument, all this twaddle of oppo- sition, about the crime of office, were true? How can you account for this fact, and it is a fact, that, with men ap- pointed to office for every other reason under heaven than because their previous habits had fitted them for the particu- lar place they fill, the public service of the United States is better carried on, and its enormous revenue more cheaply andT logically therefore, more honestly collected, under Democratic auspices, than that of any other known government? Is not that a poser? Will railing accusations rub that out? And this, too, in the face of the fact that the subordinates are the most ill-paid body of public officers in the world. Their sala- ries are inadequate. Fixed many years ago, every article of consumption, the whole price of life, has advanced, whilst their stipend has been stationary. Under the present administration too, as under all Pemocratic administrations, the chances have been narrowed down to nothing. The man who makes a penny beyond his legal pay does himself great injustice by keeping his place; he is certainly clever enough for much bet- ter things. He is fit for a Wall-street financier. Mr. Secre- tary Guthrie may not be the greatest Secretary of the Trea- sury that ever lived; but he is certainly one of the most care- ful custodians of the peoples money. In fact, too, we should like to know how any Secretary of the Treasury can prove his fitness for the post, and fitness for a thing is greatness in that thing, except by the impartial exactitude and conscienti,ous honesty with which he carries out the routine prescribed by law. He makes no law. He originates no system. Alexan- der Hamilton originated the system. After him, the whole matter is merely executive. But to give you. my idea of the fault of the system which sometimes leaves an opening for the attacks of the opposition, and gives a colorable pretence of honesty to their fault.finding, you shall have it in the words of Edmund Burke. The sys- tem of government in British India, so sternly reprobated by him, has a good many points of analogy Another circumstance in that service, says Burke, is deserving of notice. Except in the highest parts of all, the emoluments of office do not in any degree correspond with the trust, nor the style with the dignity. Under the petty appel- lations of the counting-house, you have administrators of revenues truly royal. The legal public emoluments that be- long to them are very often totally inadequate. * * It is true that the greatest situations are often attended with 120 The Crime of Office. fFeb., but little emolument; yet still they are filled. Why? Be- cause reputation, glory, fame, the honest applauses of a grate- ful country, sometimes pay the cares, anxieties, and toils, which wait on great situations in the commonwealth. But glory is not the lot of subordinated merit. These must be paid in money what cannot be paid in fame and reputation. * * All the subordinate parts are officers who, in comparison with the offices and duties entrusted with them, are miserably provided for; whereas the chief of each great presidency has emoluments securing him against every mode of tempta- tion. * * Instead of endeavoring to find a series of gradual, progressive, honorable, and adequate rewards for the persons who serve the public in subordinate but powerful situations, he has left them to prey upon the people. I do not say that some of the salaries given would not sound well here; but when you consider well the nature of the trusts, the dignity of the situation, whatever the name of them may be, the powers that are granted: I repeat, it is a source of infinite grievanceof infinite abuse? So reasons Edmund Burke. Which may be reduced to this, that in every government where you put power and opportunity in mens hands, and nuderpay themif you expect them to be honest, you mistake human nature. The great crime of office in the United States, then, as in British India, is putting men in the way of tempt- ation, and underpaying them. It has been said in Congress Why, you can get as many men as you can shake a stick at, to do the public work at a dollar a day, instead of three or four which is now paid. Certainly you can. But that will help you little. The only difference would be that, supposing men to continue men, and beef to be 18~ cents a pound, your one dollar men would be under the disagreeable necessity of stealing the difference from the public crib, being a clear addi- tional loss to the public of two dollars! Steal? A fico for the phrase. Conveythe wise it call. We are not denying the possibility of human honesty. Happily for society, there are some honest men left. But a fine moral sense, and a lofty principle of self-respect and scrupulous honor, is not a com- mon gift to mortals. The majority of men, it is also true, will not stealdirectly. Visions of Sing-Sing and the Tombs haunt and prevent them; but they will whip the devil very close to the stump. It is said, a Whig President appointed a friend to some subordinate office. The friend was indignant at being put off with such a pittance, and exclaimed: Why, sir, the salary is only fifteen hundred dollars a-year !~ Bah ! replied 1856.] The Crime of Oflice. 121 his Excellency; thats the salary, John. I give you the placethat is worth more than mine ! It is also related by many persons of veracity, that it is the common habit of heads of department, on the advent of a Whig administration, to say to their subordinates: You have fomr years before you; make the most you can out of them for the party, and yourselves. Under Democratic auspices, however, and we speak by the card, the whole effort of its superior executive officers is directed to saving the peoples money, and narrow- ing the office-holders chances to as near nothing as possible. This system is carried out in every branch of the public service with a scrupulous exactness, and painful fidelity. And here the real crime of office is developed; since the most oppressive weight of retrenchment and reform, always the inevitable work of the Democratic party upon coming into power, after an interregnum of Opposition license and peculation, falls upon subordinates. For superior officers the law provides emolu- ments. For inferiors it provides none. The idea of the fram- ers of the law, regulating particularly the iRevenue service of the United States, appears to have been a very honest Federal aristocratic notion, that your great officers are a kind of Sevres porcelain, and will bear high glazing and fine painting; whilst your common fellow must be kept as poor a piece of pottery as possible. It is scarcely a Democratic notion that one hu- man vessel is to be fashioned by legislative legerdemain to honor, and another to dishonor. The logic which assumes that the head of a Department must be kept rich to keep him honest, and the tail poor to keep him honest, is about as beau- tiful a piece of special pleading, as complete a reductio ad ab- surdum, as we have ever had the pleasure of stumbling over. The sauce for the goose is clearly no sauce for the gander in that system of dialectics. Our laws go further indeed, and whilst they provide emoluments for the heads of departments, they provide penalties for all below the head, who even coquet with so much reward, emolument, guerdon, or remuneration, as Costards elevenpence hapenny. In the language of Burke, which is quite as applicable to this as to the folly of the East India Company: The gentlemen at the head of the service have high legal emoluments. The orders of the government forbid inferiors to take any extrane- ous emoluments. The act of Parliament has fulminated against them. Clear, positive laws have no exception of cir- cumstance in them, no difference quoad majus et minus. The 9 122 The Crime of Office. [Feb., consequence is, that he who has taken but one penny of unlaw- ful emolument is without defense. And as an inferior or subordinate has no legal emoluments by our system, any more than he had under the British East India system, he who takes but one penny has taken an unlawful ernolument, and the law has no mercy for him; official duty no pity; his superiors no liberty to excuse. The penalty attaches as directly and in as exemplary a manner to the one penny as to a million. Does such a system square with common justice or common sense? Is self-conceit weaker in the breast of the inferior than in the breast of the superior? On the contrary, do we not know that men think after this fashion: Fortune has given you, A. B., a big throw in the raffle, and you have a prize. But its mere luck. Why might not I, B. C., have thrown the same? Had I done so, you would have had my place, and I yours. That is human nature. And if men think thus, and see the law provide emoluments for the lucky thrower of sixes,~~ and pains and penalties for the unlucky caster of deuce ace, with the political dice; whose honesty, does it strike you, intelligent legislators of an intelligent people, is best provided forwhose honesty most certainly secured; the man whose honesty is secured by legal emoluments, or the man whose dishonesty is punished by legal penalties? Per Baccho! We think penalties make rogues. All legal experience proves the fact. Hang a man for stealing five pounds, and a thousand pounds are stolen, where twenty are, if you make the penalty a six months imprisonment in the county jail. That fact has long been in evidence; and undis- puted. Yet, you will reply, men rush in as eagerly for inferior as for superior places. Certainly they do; because like the Draco- nian penalty for a five pound larceny, under the old English system, the severity of the laws vindication defeats the law; and where one man is hung as an example, a thousand are found not guilty by tender-hearted juries. The whole argument may indeed be condensed in thisto se- cure men s honesty, as a general rule, you must pay them in a fair ratio to the trust reposed in them, and not in the ratio of their work. If one man has the power to cheat you out of a million, and another the power to cheat you only of a thousand, the bonuses on their honesty must be relatively as the sums committed to their mercy. Some men will be honest, and starve in the midst of untold gold. But these noble specimen 1856.] The Crime of Office. 123 of human virtue, whilst they elevate our opinion of humanity, and command our admiration,should never blind us to the fact that they are the shining exceptions to a gloomy rule. In opposition to the Opposition, we conclude, therefore, that the crime of office is not that one man holds to the exclu- sion of a better; nor that dishonest men are selected; nor that undue favoritism elevates one to depress another; nor, in short, any of the specifications and charges commonly exhibited; but that the system and its theory is at war with fact; that men hold office by a tenure which paralyzes their capacity for good, and developes abuse against the will and beyond the power of the best to prevent; and that custom, the custom of every party, has established as a law the much-abused but inevita- bly-followed rule, that to the victor belong the spoils; not that favoritism is displayed; but that no legal opportunity is provided for its display in behalf of public virtue and public services in subordinate stations. These constitute the true crime of office. Democratic administrations of the Federal Government, from the highest position to the lowest, in all its ramifications and bearings, in spite of these vices of system, first originated by Federalism, and carefully imitated by all its anti-Democratic progeny, have been distinguished for their general fidelity. This has been so marked and palpable that the people, by a natural in- stinct, fall back upon them always, from all other parties, for relief. Four years of administration by any other party usually place the finances of the country in such a position, and introduce such a crowd of abuses into every office, that the chief occupation of the succeeding. Democratic administration is, inevitably, to restore them to the position in which its predecessor found them, and reThtroduce order, regularity, and honesty. This usually occupies the whole attention of one Democratic ad- ministration, and it is only during a second, inimediately suc- ceeding, that the people begin to see unmistakably how much has been done for them. It has been the fate of the present administration to carry out this work of restoration, this rein- auguration of Democratic fidelity and economy in official life, and hence the vioYence with which it has been assailed. Abuse has found no shelter; dereliction from duty no excuse; and both have been as indignant and aggressive as they were before numerous and secure. A very little examination of the attacks levelled against it and the least inquiry into the per- sonal character and antecedents of their authors, will demon- 124 Tite Stream~ of L~/e. [Feb., strate that this, which in the peoples eyes has been the virtue, has in theirs been its @rime of Office. We put this before the people not as the special advocate of this, but as the general advocate of all Democratic administra- tions; and we point theni to the nominee of the Cincinnati Convention of next June, be he who he may, as the only safe rallying point for all honest lovers of their country, its consti ution, and good government. s. w. a. THE STIIEAM OF LIFE. FROM THE SPANISH. BY C. A W. WITHIN a verdant, peaceful vale A limpid stream was stealing, Naught butits ripples murmuring Its gentle course revealing. The lily, with its spotless white, Above its wave was bending; The wild birds note, the sighing breeze, Their harmonies were blending. And bird and flower of brightest hue All circled to enwreath it The evening star and azure blue Shone bright and pure beneath it: But all unnoticed and forgot, The fountain scorned its humble lot, And a guardian spirit heard its prayer, Murmured from that valley fair. Its stream was filled with melting snow And torrents from the mountains, brow, And as it onward rolled in pride, Broad rivers formed its rushing tide;

C. A. W. W., C. A. The Stream of Life. From the Spanish 124-126

124 Tite Stream~ of L~/e. [Feb., strate that this, which in the peoples eyes has been the virtue, has in theirs been its @rime of Office. We put this before the people not as the special advocate of this, but as the general advocate of all Democratic administra- tions; and we point theni to the nominee of the Cincinnati Convention of next June, be he who he may, as the only safe rallying point for all honest lovers of their country, its consti ution, and good government. s. w. a. THE STIIEAM OF LIFE. FROM THE SPANISH. BY C. A W. WITHIN a verdant, peaceful vale A limpid stream was stealing, Naught butits ripples murmuring Its gentle course revealing. The lily, with its spotless white, Above its wave was bending; The wild birds note, the sighing breeze, Their harmonies were blending. And bird and flower of brightest hue All circled to enwreath it The evening star and azure blue Shone bright and pure beneath it: But all unnoticed and forgot, The fountain scorned its humble lot, And a guardian spirit heard its prayer, Murmured from that valley fair. Its stream was filled with melting snow And torrents from the mountains, brow, And as it onward rolled in pride, Broad rivers formed its rushing tide; 1856J JJ~e Stream of k/e. i2~ Dark forests frowned upon its shore, And gathering clouds hung darkly oer; Its turbid waters found a bed With rocks in rugged masses spread, And stately fleets, in war-like pride, Upon its swelling waters ride. But the river mourned, that now was given 1~o image of the summer heaven, But clouds frown dark,. and lightnings ray Above its stormy waters play; The deer, that sought its stream before, Now leave its waters pure no more, And scaly monsters of the deep Within its dark recesses sleep; And all is changed on that dark stream An image of Lifes troubled dream. For this is Man, and thus when truth, The purity of early youth, And virtues brightness, all is lost, Upon ambitions waters tossed, Alas! the river seeks in vain To be the peaceful stream again; Within mans troubled soul is given No image of its Makers heaven; For passions all beyond control Have dimned the mirror of his soul. Well may he mourn his altered fate, The troubled grandeur of his state, And childhoods pure and peaceful joys Exchanged for manhoods gilded tOys. 120 Vitruvianae. EFob., VIT IIUVIANAE. RY PETER KOCH-WREN; ARCHITECT. CHAPTER THilin. THE excitement created by the first and second chapters of this treatise having become intense, and the rules laiddown in them threatening to pro duce an entire revolution in the rural architecture of the country, I shall. hasten to develop my whole system. I shall do this because I hear that great numbers have already commenced pulling down, and my feelings are shocked at the idea of their being without a proper roof to cover them, at this inclement season of the year. We entreat those who have not yet en- tirely demolished their dwellings to pause until they have read this sy- nopsis. The best way then to set about building a country-house is, first, to con- sider the subj ect in a common-sense light. We particularly recommend , this view of the subject, as the longer you consider it in that light, the darker it will appear to you, and the less likely you will be ever to get further tha.n the beginning. In the next place we would impress upon those of a san- guine temperament the wisdom of consulting the experience of the last gentleman he planned for, after you have consulted your architect. An attention to this suggestion will save you much harassment of mind, which might, otherwise, be easily traceable to the singular difference between your architects estimate, and your builders bill. MATERIAL.IR choosing your material you will be, of course, influenced by the selection your neighborhood affords. In any case, however, it would perhaps be wiser to be influenced by the selection you can afford yourself. Wood and stone are generally used, but brick may be introducedinto the chimneywith great advantage. Wood znay also be advantageously introduced into the oven previous to any attempt at baking. The attempt to substitute any thing else for floors, shelves, doors, and window-sashes, will be attended with great expense, and possibly partial failure. STONE 15 of many characters, and needs varied treatment. Harsh treat- ment, consisting of a free use of the stone hammer and chisel, is usually the most successful. How indeed are you to treat flint, granite, ~reywack, or trap tenderly, without meeting a most ungrateful return for your kind- ness we are unable to inform you. BRICK does not seem, as yet, to have had a fair chance of trial. Gentle- men, however, who have attempted to adopt it as a hat lining, have not only

Peter Koch Wren, Architect Wren, Peter Koch, Architect Virtuvianae 126-131

120 Vitruvianae. EFob., VIT IIUVIANAE. RY PETER KOCH-WREN; ARCHITECT. CHAPTER THilin. THE excitement created by the first and second chapters of this treatise having become intense, and the rules laiddown in them threatening to pro duce an entire revolution in the rural architecture of the country, I shall. hasten to develop my whole system. I shall do this because I hear that great numbers have already commenced pulling down, and my feelings are shocked at the idea of their being without a proper roof to cover them, at this inclement season of the year. We entreat those who have not yet en- tirely demolished their dwellings to pause until they have read this sy- nopsis. The best way then to set about building a country-house is, first, to con- sider the subj ect in a common-sense light. We particularly recommend , this view of the subject, as the longer you consider it in that light, the darker it will appear to you, and the less likely you will be ever to get further tha.n the beginning. In the next place we would impress upon those of a san- guine temperament the wisdom of consulting the experience of the last gentleman he planned for, after you have consulted your architect. An attention to this suggestion will save you much harassment of mind, which might, otherwise, be easily traceable to the singular difference between your architects estimate, and your builders bill. MATERIAL.IR choosing your material you will be, of course, influenced by the selection your neighborhood affords. In any case, however, it would perhaps be wiser to be influenced by the selection you can afford yourself. Wood and stone are generally used, but brick may be introducedinto the chimneywith great advantage. Wood znay also be advantageously introduced into the oven previous to any attempt at baking. The attempt to substitute any thing else for floors, shelves, doors, and window-sashes, will be attended with great expense, and possibly partial failure. STONE 15 of many characters, and needs varied treatment. Harsh treat- ment, consisting of a free use of the stone hammer and chisel, is usually the most successful. How indeed are you to treat flint, granite, ~reywack, or trap tenderly, without meeting a most ungrateful return for your kind- ness we are unable to inform you. BRICK does not seem, as yet, to have had a fair chance of trial. Gentle- men, however, who have attempted to adopt it as a hat lining, have not only 1856.] 17itruviancte. frequently had a fair chance of trial (at the Police Court) bat have even been fined for the experiment. The world is proverbially ungrateful to its bene- factors; and the attempt to combine the uses of the brick with the tile meets no greater opposition than the system of Galileo or the steam-engine of Fulton In the present state of society, and the absurd prejudices against that article, as your house, like your hat, is meant to shelter your head, the less ~ou have to do with a brick in it the better. If you have timber in abundance, and your building be of moderate di- mensions, instead of enlarging it you had much better put ~up a saw-mill and dispose of the surplus to your neighbors. A Rusric treatment of this material is often very effective. It is perhaps unnecessary to describe, in a more detailed manner, what we mean by a rustic treatment, as most of our readers have, no doubt, stopped on the road to Lebanon, the White Sulphur Springs, or the Delaware Water Gap, or some other remote ~elebrity, to admire one of those charming log cabins, stuck in a cleft of the rocks, or hanging like a strange fungus from the side of a woody declivity, and altogether built of unhewn timber, orn~e with a barrel, for a chimney (styled in rural architecture chimbley) and an agreeable va- riety of old hats, and flannel petticoats for window glass. ANOTHER style, for which wood is a suitable material, is called Gothic. The term Gothic is now determined to mean simply pointed. 1f there- fore, you be of an epigramatical turn of mind you will, of course, choose the Gothic, as a quiet way of informing your neighbors that you consider them Goths, and have adapted your style to your neighborhood. The pecu- liarities of your architecture will, by this means, be sure to be marked. You may possibLy secure the same result to yourself, but having defined your position amongst your neighbors, will easily prepare yourself for any thing coming from so rude a source as a community of Goths. But the great principle upon which all styles are ba~ed is reality. For all purposes of home comfort, therefore, chateaux en espagne ,may be con- sidered as altogether inadmissible. A Gomic house, then, is a building, the character of whose architecture is disJAnguished by the upward tendency of its leading lines. The same tendency being particularly observable in lalloons, they will be found a remarkably cheap substitute for it. Great care, however, must be taken to secure the leading lines properly, especially in situations much ex- posed to the influence of the winds. In arranging the outlines of your plan, upon the ground, the selection of wood as the material, will permit of a more varied and irregular shape than stone or brick. In arranging it upon paper, which is perhaps, after all, the best place to do it, pen and ink will probably be all the material you will need. If you inadvertently sign your name at the bottom of the page, how- ever, and it should find its way into your builders hands, the amusement afforded by the freedom of irregularity ceases, and the regular, and often 128 Viiruvianae. [Feb., disagreeable course of payment at maturity, or a suit at law, practically ensues. THE MODERN bracketed Italian style is very suitable for wooden buildings, and is one of great beauty. This bracketed style is, of course, a synonym for the parenthetical or involved style, and appears admirably suited for gentlemen in difficulties, whom a turn of the stock market in the city has turned to keeping stock in the country. Or the brackets may be con- sidered, as in modern dramas, to mark the parts which may be omitted with- out injury to the sense. By putting your house in brackets7 therefore, you may follow the wise eNample of the managers with regard to the dramas referred to, and omit it altogether, which would, after all, be probably the most sensible thing you could do. The great objection to the Italian bracketed style is, that it will not admit of the use of shingles. As this would prevent its appropriation by the most honest and deserving class of the community, the class too to which we have the honor to belongthe legal bodywe shall not recommend its adoption. Stone appears to be the true material for a rustic home. Mr. A. Gordon Knotts objection, however, to throwing away his money upon a deal of stone when stone of deal was cheaper, appears founded in right reason, and appeals affectingly to the seat of architectural lifethe pocket. Its general fretted surface is nevertheless peculiarly appropriate to a country house, in which, especially during a long storm, ~ny one but a Job usually represents that peculiar quality of stone in the most striking ifianner~ If you are from the city, do not, however, fancy, because stone is your material that you will need fewer of what are classically termed rocks to complete the edifice. Cutting the stone will display it to more artistic ad- vantage. The superior advantage of wood, however, is that it will enable you to cut your stick; an operation which any one of our way of thinking will always take care to make provision for. Many persons complain of stone houses in the country being damp; but as every thing else in the country is also damp, and pervaded by a general chilly kind of desolation, at all seasons except midsummer, I consider this an unfounded objection. My friend Knott says, on all three floors of his house, there was no room that was not a rheumaticwhich proves incon- testably that wood or stone, in the country, make little difference. The modern Italian style is suitable for either stone or wood, and un- doubtedly, for crotchety people, is the only proper one. For gentlemen, also, whose circumstances and desires are in an inverse ratio to each other, this style is at once pleasing and profitable, as whatever scale they may choose to build on they can do so by a system of notes. Terraces are features constantly associated with this style. As our ob- ject, however, is cheapness, as well as beauty, balustrades in card-board, or canvas, after the fashion of Juliets, not in Verona, but th~ Broadway theatre, may be made to produce all the effect, at a little distance, of the 1856.] Yitruvianae. 129 most elaborately-carved marble. Terraces are also associated with mooii- light, lovers vows and runaway matches, and parents with large families of grown-up daughters will find them to their advantage. A word or two about brick before we close this number. As a material it is not appreciated. We are very far behind our ancestors, in this, the importation of the article from Holland having almost entirely ceased of late years. If, however, you should recur to the good old fashion again, and use them, it will be in good taste to paint them in accordance with the prevail- ing tone of the landscape: your spring coat should, therefore, be a warm green, and your fall one a cool gray. A greater variety of colors will be ne- cessary, if you determine to follow all the changes of the seasons, but as a general thing we are inclined to think green will be found the most appro- priate and significant. CHAPTER FOURTH. A comfortable home must be both a warm and a sweet one. The former of these conditions may be secured, as a general thing, in summer by open- ing all the windows at mid-day. In winter it will be attended with greater difficulty; in fact, warmth at that season must be artificially created, a sci- entific fact of which few of our readers are probably aware. The substances by which artificial heat is created, in the largest degree, are generally sup- posed to be wood and coaL Paynes water gas may possibly be added to the list in a short time. Our text book recommends the Household De- mon as evolving the largest amount of caloric from those substances. As almost every family possesses a Household Demon of its own, which up to this time has been altogether a useless member of it, we expect the sugges- tion to be eagerly seized upon. This kind of demon heater appears to have been known indeed as far back as the age of Elizabeth, if we may credit the allegation of lago, that the ladies of the family are sometimes devils that is, Household Demons. The sole difficulty in the use of this demons is, that it often makes the house entirely too hot to hold you ; and no sort of ventilation has yet been hit upon to moderate her too searching breath. Indeed, in severe weather, she is constantly rushing to extremes, jumping from extremely hot to extremely cold, and keeping you in an in- teresting state of oscillation between a fever and an ague fit. In an overheated room the atmosphere soon becomes foul, unless proper ventilation be resorted to. The foul air usually begins to form on the floor in layers, which are gradually built up to the ceiling. This is a state of the atmosphere meant to be described by old ladies when they say it was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Our text-book speaks of the debris of warmth in air, but as we never saw a large section of air broken to pieces, and can not conceive of the wreck of that kind of matter, we are at a loss to understand what sort of thing the debris of the air may be. The air indeed has been said to be a chartered libertine, and as that kind of foul 130 Vitruvianae. [Feb~, creature is very shaky and liable to fall to pieces, it may be rather a poetical than practical allusion. In whatever way your house is warmed, an escape-flue should always be provided. This flue, in its relation to ventilation, will be found peculiarly serviceable if; in pursuit of your building plan you have been forced to fob low the example of Mr. Knott, and accept draughts which run all ways except up chimney. In such a state of things you will readily perceive that an escape-flue will be absolutely necessary to enable you to air your reputation as well as your person. An admirable treatise upon ventilation may be found in Dr. Mayos Kaloolah. The simple apparatus described there as used in Framazugda could no doubt be made at a sli,~ht cost, and would soon come into universal use. The addition of the Flower-organ which he also describes, by which the entire wealth of natural scents is evolved by a kind of olfactory notation will insure you a sweet as well as a warm home. We have thus put our readers in possession of the way to build a home cheaply and well in a short course of easy lessons for young beginners: and have only to assure them, in conclusion, that if they should follow our directions, or those of the text-book upon which these papers have been a running commentary, no one will sympathize with them more heartily than ourselves. Next to the folly which a man is guilty of in hanging himself for love, we rank the folly of the city man who builds a house in the country for comfort. The only way to live in the country is to rise with the lark, instead of laying plans for larks ;to hold the plough, swing the cradle and the axe, in short to be a farmerthe most in- dependent and noble of all characters and occupations. City manners and city houses are as mockable in the country, as the homely wits of home-bred bumpkins are ludicrous at a court. To enjoy the country do not build your- self either a palace or a medkeval mansion, all jimcracks and nonsense; hut find out some good old place hallowed by the memories of years, green in its age as the character and virtues of an honest man, grown old in making the earth bear fruit to feed the busy throngs of your starved cities, and there, with the old rafters over your head, the old luxuriant vines about the door, the garden full of flowers which in their season have gladdened generations of happy and innocent heartsthere make a home indeed, a place where the sturdy virtues of your Republican forefathers may not be ashamed to grow, nor your children forget to learn them. 1856.] The ChronUes of Per.~epoli& 131 THE ChRONICLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE YEARS TN THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN-FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. ~Y Mli QUIGG. CHAPTER THIRD. A CHAPTER OF CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY. OUR retirement from the busy scenes of city life to the sup- josed quiet of the country naturally afforded our friends a subject of profound interest and frequent conversation. In fact the interest on& s friends take in ones welfare in this world i-s so flattering, so very humanizing, that it makes you feel quite tender, sometimes almost tearful. How exquisitely delightful to know that a hundred hearts are moved on your account; a hundred brains busy with spe& ulations, of which you and your fortunes, are the objects; a hundred, perhaps a thousand conversations carried on, in which you are the central point and figure of the picture tiey paint! Charming world! Excellent and much-abused humanity! Who shall have the audacity to say that some remnant of the angel does not linger still in that poor outraged, and vilified human nature, which silly scribblers are so fond of represent- ing as cold, selfish, calc~lating, and heartless? It is true that if I had died, instead of going into the coun- try. If I had been hanged, instead of going into the country. If I had ran away with another mans wife, and murdered her husband, according to the laws of honor, instead of going into the country. 1f in short, I had made an immense ass of my- self in any way, or met with a frightfully disgraceful misfor- tune of any kind whatever, instead of going into the country, my friends would have had quite as agreeable and welcome a subject of conversation. To disappear from society in a natural and honest way, makes no kind of difference. In fact, it rather detracts from your importance. But then admit, it is really very flattering to be talked about by so many people, and to awake so wide an interest that not

Mr. Quigg Quigg, Mr. The Chronicles of Persepolis; or, Five Years in the Life of a Gentleman-Farmer in the Kingdom of New-Jersey 131-145

1856.] The ChronUes of Per.~epoli& 131 THE ChRONICLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE YEARS TN THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN-FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. ~Y Mli QUIGG. CHAPTER THIRD. A CHAPTER OF CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY. OUR retirement from the busy scenes of city life to the sup- josed quiet of the country naturally afforded our friends a subject of profound interest and frequent conversation. In fact the interest on& s friends take in ones welfare in this world i-s so flattering, so very humanizing, that it makes you feel quite tender, sometimes almost tearful. How exquisitely delightful to know that a hundred hearts are moved on your account; a hundred brains busy with spe& ulations, of which you and your fortunes, are the objects; a hundred, perhaps a thousand conversations carried on, in which you are the central point and figure of the picture tiey paint! Charming world! Excellent and much-abused humanity! Who shall have the audacity to say that some remnant of the angel does not linger still in that poor outraged, and vilified human nature, which silly scribblers are so fond of represent- ing as cold, selfish, calc~lating, and heartless? It is true that if I had died, instead of going into the coun- try. If I had been hanged, instead of going into the country. If I had ran away with another mans wife, and murdered her husband, according to the laws of honor, instead of going into the country. 1f in short, I had made an immense ass of my- self in any way, or met with a frightfully disgraceful misfor- tune of any kind whatever, instead of going into the country, my friends would have had quite as agreeable and welcome a subject of conversation. To disappear from society in a natural and honest way, makes no kind of difference. In fact, it rather detracts from your importance. But then admit, it is really very flattering to be talked about by so many people, and to awake so wide an interest that not 132 The Chronicle8 of Per& epolis. [IF~et~ even the smallest of your faults has the ghost of a chance of being forgotten. It is true, toot that if you had staid in the city, and given very fine parties, and reck erch~ dinners; worn very fine cl& thes, and been able to do a great many favors for a great many people, you would have been universally loved and respected. But if you had staid there, and done nothing of the sort7 no body would have troubled their heads about you. On the contrary, if you bad needed any of those fine friends; if your fortune had taken to itself wings and flown away, and instead of leaving you in patent leathers and yellow kids among the blisses of Broadway7 and the luxurious parvenuism of the Fifth avenue, had landed you high and dry in the re- mote regions of the eastern part of the citysay in the upper part of a two-story frame house in Henry street7 or some such hyperborean latitude, I give you-gentlemen and ladiesI give you my word for it.-your best friends would never have mentioned your name. I think I see some body sneer, or shrug their shoulders; or hear some body say, I never act so. Such conduct is, con- temptible. I grasp a friends hand as cordially when there is not a penny in it, as when it can sign a check good for a million. My respectable but deluded friend, you may flatter yourself that you ai7e telling the truth; but the fact is you are lying like a horse. You would do no such thing. It isnt in you. It isnt in any New-Yorker or Englishman that ever drew the breath of life. I am sorry to be compelled to say it, but you are a humbug and a snob. If you ever see a man down, I will lay any money you take as early an opportunity as any body else to give him a nice little kick. Or if he is only going down hill you will assist him towards the bottom, with a sly shove, as soon as your neighbors. Dont be ashamed. It is perfectly natural. Nay, I am not at all sure but it is very moral, meritorious, and admirable. What right has a man to fail? In the vocabulary of pious pity there is no word of sympa. thy for a man who fails. If he fail, is he not proved a contemptible rascal, and worthy to be kicked? Fortune always favors the brave. What more contemptible than a coward? Success is the true test of merit. You are perfectly right to ride rough-shod over any man 1856.1 The Chronicles of Perseyolis. 133 who shows himself such a thoroughly worthless and cowardly animal as to let you do it. From which it appears that all this fine talk about charity, kindness, humanity, sympathy, and that obsolete kind of thing is mere moonshine on the water. It is not at all surprising1 therefore, that when we abandoned the luxurious city of New-York; when I turned my back upon the dignified Bar of that city, and removed myself; my little wife, and household gods to the kingdom of New-Jersey, it should have awakened a lively interest in the bosoms of mine and my dear wifes numerous and amiable friends. Some five1 or by our lady, six hundred of the G-rande Monde had graced our wedding, and the arrack punch, chain. pagne, etc., on that interesting and momentous occasion, hav- ing been particularly good, not a few of them had gone very near weeping for pure happiness and delighted sympathy, in the fullness of their hearts and satisfaction of their stomachs. No body, however, came down as far as the wharf to see u~ off- But that was six months afterwards; and any one who ex- pects the tenderness of champagne or the sympathy of boned turkey to last that length of time deserves a straight waistcoat. It must not, however, by any means be supposed that the general interest felt in our affairs, by our loving and generous friends was at all lessened by that lapse of time. On the con- trary it was rather new-edged by the natural seclusion into which we fell, as all new-married folk do, during the first six months of our double blessedness. I say seclusion, for although we went to more balls, parties, hops, matinees dansante, conversation6, tableaux, receptions, evenings, etc., etc., than usual, like all unfortunates in the ~same predicament, we played the r6le of hermits in a crowd, and dan ed, waltzed, and polked through halls of dazzling light, in the midst of five hundred over-heated people dressed to kill, very much as if those people had been cabbages, which possibly they might have been without losing any thing themselves, or doing the world any material injury by the slight change from animal to vegetable life. Be that as it may, we went through the waltzes and the winter, looking neither at the people around us, nor into the future before; but simply I dont mean foolishly but merely and all the while looking into each others eyes, and talking the softest and most delightful nonsense in the world. .So, it came to pass that, although every body saw us all the 134 [The (iYhron~cles of .Per& ~poli8. [Feb.~ while, everywhere, we were quite as remote and separate from any body in particular, as if we had gone away to Kamschatka immediately after the ceremony. Perhaps that was the reason why the shock was not so great when, in the spring, we really went into banishment among the aboriginal tribes of New- Jersey. But we were not forgotten, as you shall quickly hear. CHAPTER FOURTH. THE UNINVITED GUEST. It was about nine months after we had firmly planted our- selves in the red-shale. A succession of rainy days had turned that peculiarly delightful soil into a cross between bad red paint, and gritty cement. Walking was impracticable, and carriage-wheels sunk up to the hub. Two horses were scarcely enongh to drag a babys go-cart through the detestable stuff. I must tell you, excellent readerand therefore excellent because you are a reader of this bookI must inform you that, shortly after our immigration, I had gone to work to make an avenue from the turnpike to the house, which stood back from it about two hundred and fifty yards. All the way up, too, the ground gradually ascended; so that iRougemont was worthy of its name, both by reason of the redness of the soil and the elevation of its site. There was, in fact, a very fine prospect from~ the house; and I may be said to have had at least a look for my money. I - solemnly assure you that during my entire residence in the kingdom of New-JerseyI never had any thing else. However, I made that avenue. I was justly proud of it. It was a triumph. I borrowed a road-scoop from a very kind neighbor, who afterwards borrowed three bushels of seed-wheat from me. I returned the scoop. I never saw the wheat again. however, I hitched my carriage-horses to that scoop, and a~ I wasp about those times, one of the bone and sinew, since all the flesh I originally brought into the State left me very soon after I got there; and as I might be considered as hard- handed as the best specimen of the working Democracy you could pick up in a days electioneeringwhy, of course, I held the handles of that road-scoop. By the space of two days I ceased not to be jerked backwards and forwards from one side of the road to the other as fast and hard as two spirited. 1856.1 The Chronicles of Persepolis. 135 horses and red-shale earth could perform for me thi~t agreeable office. But my labor was not in vain. I triumphed. From the turnpike to the summit of iRougemont I threw up an avenue of goodly width, and admirable directness. That it might al- ways be firm and dry, and afford a pleasant path for man and beast, I rounded it up in the middle to an extraordinary height. That unutterable, despicable red-shale soil, however, defeated my philosophy, and threw contempt on my engineering. In- stead of becoming more firm by reason of its elevation, it only added depth to the mud. The first rain turned it into a red. shale quicksand, a man-trap and beast-trap, an almost bottom- less pit of destruction. No man, let alone woman, could ven- ture upon it. One man, a farm-hand, bolder than the rest, and armed with the courage of love, (he was going a sparking,) attempted it one damp evening. At three yards distance, from the house he sunk to his arm-pits. After much suffering, he was re- covered, at the expense of many severe contusions and the loss of his Sunday suit, by laying down broad plank, and raising him gradually with rails, which were used as levers. After this, none of the initiated ever atteripted the avenue except in a drought. In our early verdancy, longing naturally after green things, we planted trees of many kinds on either side of the abortion; and labored diligently to make them full of growing ; but they never grew, and what the cattle did not nib down stood barely up in thin and ghastly regularity, at wide intervals, like the poles of an abandoned line of telegraph. Such was the avenue which led up to our Baronial Mansion of iRougemont: our castle not in Espagne, but the kingdom of New-Jersey; which we take to be the next best place in the world for houses without foundation, and castles in the air. It was then, as I said before this digression, about nine months after our banishment. I was sitting, with my wife, at one of the front windows in the second story. It had been raining for three days, and had just ceased. The clouds, not yet entirely broken by the west wind, con- tinued to lower, as they rolled up the sky in fantastic shapes, and tumbled one over the other like leviathans at play. Here and there amongst them began to appear small patches of blue sky, or glimpses of sunshine. 136 f/ike Chronicles of Persepolis. [Feb., My eldest, and then only child, was at. that time four months old. Charming age, in which are blended the innocence of the angel with the vocal properties of the screech-owl! The dear creature lay asleep, near us,in the cradle. It was truly a picture of almost Arcadian felicity. If it had a drawback, however, it was that, as I could not get segars for love, and was particularly short of money, I was just then smoking pig-tail tobacco in a clay pipe. iIit was my first attempt at that sort of thing; and made me in fact, a little sick at the stomach. We were sitting there, I say, in that teuly interesting and delightful situation when I turned my eyes by accident to- wards the avenue. I no sooner did so, than I beheld a sight which caused a strange agitation of my nerves. Far down, near the gate which opened on the turnpike, or was supposed to be capable of opening for any one who ever reached it alive, appeared a novel objecta black speck in facta something which might possibly be a man, since it was certainly too large for a crow. Good Heavens 1 I exclaimed, theres a stranger. A what? said my wife. A stranger, and coming here, said I. My wife turned to look, and gave a little shriek, so as to satisfy the tenderness of her own nerves without injuring those of the baby. Is he crazy, she murmured, to venture upon our avenue? He will sink for ever before he goes three steps further. No 1 said I, he understands his peril. Some body must have betrayed us. He abandons the avenue and keeps along the fence. Get me the spy-glass, and lets see who it is? My wife got the spy-glass. She did not give it to me, how- ever. Of course she didnt. She was a woman, and therefore put it to her own eye first. She rested it upon the window- frame. She got the range. An instant sufficed to carry to her mind not only a conviction of the black specks identity with a man and an acquaintance, but a conviction also that he was a New-Yorker. With female intuition she also divined imme- diatelv his motives for being there, as will shortly be evident. What shall we do ? she exclaimed, thats Cartwright. And pray, said I, Who(delicately referring at the same time to the gentleman with the unmentionable name) Who may Cartwright be ? A fool and a bore, she replied with mingled asperity 1856.] The Chronicle8 of Perseyolis. 137 and trepidation. The greatest fool and most persevering snook in New-York. Ding a-ling-a-ling went the bell, answering with alarming promptness the rigorous application of Mrs. Quiggs nervous grasp upon the pull. Up came Jane Cook, or rather, Jane, who was now cook, chambermaid, ladies maid, childs nurse, and bottle-washer general, to our reduced establishment. Rnn for your life, Jane, exclaimed Mrs. Quigg breath- lessly, and open the parlorwizidows. Mind, the ones on the opposite side from the way that mans coming. Yes, dont stand. there grinning like a fool. Theres a man coming, Jane: theres a man coming, I tell you. Hes coming to stay here. Coming to dinnercoming to sleep. Coming to live forall I know. It would be just like him. And Jane, theres nothing in the house fit for a dog to eat. And take the slip-covers off the parlor-chairs, Jane: and dust the mantle-piece. No, let it alone; youll break something. And make up a roaring fire in the kitchen, thatll look as if we did cook at least. Yah-yah, ow-ow-ow I went the baby, waking up with a jerk, and going into a small exhibition of his infant vocal powers on his own account, whilst precociously evincing his musical t4alents by keeping time with his heels on the foot of the cradle. Husbandtake that child, do! Dont you see Jane cant, and Im most crazy? Are men good for any thin gin the world? Hell hurt himself crying before you stir. Daredare, baby. Mothers pet. Yes, it should cryso it should. Now will you take him? For Heavens sake dont trot his life out of him in that way. The child is not a horse. Youye been with horses so much lately, you grab him as if you were going to put a curb-bit in the dear little darlings mouth, and stick your spurs into him. Why dont you put a saddle on him at once? Do try and remember he isnt made of iron. II dont often ask you to hold him not often enough at any rate, to make you look like a thunder-cloud now when Im in such distress. What shall I wear? There he comes. At any rate it will take him half an hour to get up here: I may thank your avenue for that at least. I havent a dress to my name thats fit to be seen. We ought to have ironed yesterday: but you were get- ting in that rye, and I know all those ten men you had three days running, cost you twice as much as the rye will sell for when youre done. But you would have them here eating up 10 138 The Chronicles of Persepoli& [Feb., every thing in the house; and now were in a pretty fix:. Cart.. wright coming, and nothing to put before him.~~ Bah ! said I, when I got a chance. Whats the use of all this fuss about one man? Did we never have a guest be. fore? Were we never taken, as people must sometimes be in the country, a little out of sorts? Do keep quiet, and be rea- sonable cant you ? Mr. Quigg, said my wife with tragic solemnity, and taking the stage with a sweep, that is, crossing from left to right, with her half-indued dress draped about her with strik. ing negligence, her arm elevated to a right angle with her body, and her fore-finger quivering with intense emotion: Mr. Quigg do you see that man ? Well, I do. That man is Jones Cartwright. The twenty-third time I have been favored with that in- formation, Mrs. Q., in the space of five minutes: That man, Mr. Quigg, is sent here from New-York by the Johusons, the Skeddys, the Joneses, and all that horrid set of people, to see how we live. Yes, to see how we live ! Her voice took a wilde~ tonepassionately contemptuous and indignant. To see whether we get on. To see whether we are poor or rich. Hes nothing better than a spy, Mr. Quigga mise- rable spy, and Pm determined he shant go back to New- York, and tell those people were poor, ifif If we fry the baby for dinner, said I. Unfeeling monster ! exclaimed my better halg with a bounce, which threw the drapery of the bending statue into yet wilder disarrangement, and to hint the truth, gave her an air much more picturesque than presentable. Unfeeling monster, to jest at such a time. That dear baby, however, thanks to my nursing, rough and unskillful as it might be, had dropped away again into a pro- found slumber. Laying it carefully back into the cradle, I went to the mantlepiece, over which hung my rifle, and, taking down that peculiarly national arm, I loaded it and sat down by the window. What are you going to do now ? said Mrs. Q. Going to shoot your friend Cartwright, by accident, when he gets within range, and save you the trouble of receiving him! Good gracious, Mr. Quigg! cant you be serious some- 1856.1 The Chronicles of Pers~~polis. 139 times? Do put that nasty thing away, and hook my dress for me. I put it away! To be sure I put it away. I hooked the dress. Umph! That was by no means so easy as putting up the rifle. However, it was accomplished, and the partner of my bosom being pretty tight, like many other people in the same condition, began to grow amiable, and view the approach of the enemy with less distracted eyes. In fact, I believe that silk dress, with the dingle-um-dangle. ums on the sleeves, and the polly.wobbles on the corsage, al- though restricted in its effects; and that French cap, the soli. tary remains of Madam Megoozelems little bill of five hun- dred, went a great ways towards mollifying her disposition. I have always noticed that women are twice as cross and unreasonable in a morning calico, particularly the shil. ling sort, as in an evening silk, particulaily brocade. The last hook was achieved just as Jane re~ppeared, and an- nounced Mr. Cartwright as being down stairs to see de Missus. The lady of the manor, the Chat~laine of Castle IRougemont, when the last touch had been given to that pet ringlet, and the last twitch to the skirt of that astonishing dress, descended to the parlor to receive, not welcome, our Uninvited Guest. CHAPTER FIFTH. MR. JONES OARTWRJGHT. Having been earnestly adjured thereunto, I didwhat I had not done for a week beforeshaved. I then proceeded to dress myself to go on, for that occasion only in the charac- ter of a Gentleman Farmer. A calico shirt (clean) fancy pattern, white ground, and dogs heads in purple; falling col- lar, tied at the throat with a small blue handkerchief, negli- gently knotted; a canary veskit, light continuations, patent- leather shoes and drab gaiters, short-tailed green sporting-coat, with superb buttonsby Jove they were buttonsand a natty white-feet Golgotha. I flatter myself I was as well made up for the part as any man could be at half-an-hours notice. I descended the stairs, therefore, with mingled satisfaction and anxiety. Satisfaction at my personal rig, and anxiety for the grub. I knew the larder was as clean as a whistle; and I was not sufficiently full of faith to believe that a miracle of flesh would be wrought in our behalf. However, I fell back upon my pet doctrine .of fatality, and resolved that if it 140 The C~kronide& of Per& epo14~. [Feb., were our Kismet our fate, to have proper nice roast duck for dinner, we should have it, and if it were not our Kismet to have the roast duck, we should not have it. At the bottom of the stairs which lauded you in the great hall of Rougemontdimensions 16 ft. by 42I came sud- denly upon our guest. My wife was shaking him heartily by the hand, and too glad to see him for any thing. What with inquiries after his own health and happiness, and the health, wealth, and happiness of every body else in the city of New-Yorkit was several mi- nutes before my presence was noticed at all. At last, however, I was introduced in form to Mr. Jones Cartwright. ile was a little man, the great misfortune of whose life, the shadow upon whose prospects, the thorn in whose flesh, was a nose. And such a nose! A beautiful and exceedingly rare combi- nation of the woodcock and the bottle. It had all the inquisi- tive elongation of the one, and all the jolly solidity of the other. Two little gray eyes, 4hich appeared to have been origi- ginally very dull and foolish, but to have been diligently edu- cated to do the intelligent, peered out, with a kiwd of restless vacuity from either side of that nose: wiry hair, of a dull, dirty, yellowish brown; a squat figure, and a general air of conceit. Such was Mr. Jones Cartwright. I was, of course, introduced, and directly found myself alone with the animal in the parlor, which now shone as brightly, and looked as comfortably as if we really lived in it every day. Mrs. Quigg immediately disappeared. I thought she had gone to prepare a Barmecide feast, or at best a dinner of two courses; stone soup for the first, and Dr. Franklins saw-dust pudding for the second. How I ever lived through the time intervening between that introduction and the ringing of the dinner-bell, I can not pretend to explain. I only know that my chess-table attracted the mans attention, and being challenged by him to a game, I played with much the same distraction of mind as Miranda in the Tempest, but with a very opposite sentiment towards my partner. Mr. Jones Cartwright really knew the moves. He knew no more, and when I beat him repeatedly, with my eyes shut, as one might say, had the transcendental imperti 1856.] The Chronicles of Persepolis. 141. nence, the imperturbably insolent vanity to compliment me upon my game. At last the dinner-bell rung. My heart sank within me. Ii anticipated an introduction to Duke Humphrey. I knew there was next door to nothing in the house. On what then should we dine? We reached the hail where the dinner-table was set. Apicius, Lucullus, Sal1uste~ id genus omne: what a sur- prise! The fairies seemed to have visited us. The dinner- table was set in the finest style. I dont know certainly that the whole crockery closet was emptied upon it, and dared not ask; but I suspect. We sat down. I no more dared to touch one of the block-tin covers of those Sevres china dishes, than I dared to fly. I was sure, like the feast set by some jealous body, I have read of; for some other foolish body, there must be live mice under some of them, for I knew, however sparse the other live stock might be, we had mice in abundance. I looked at my wife. There was a slight flush upon Mrs. Quiggs cheek; but she sat serene, as if conscious of a vic- tory achieved. My bosoms lord began to sit lighter on his throne. I removed the first cQver. Fricaseed chicken. Of course it was fricaseed chicken. Where that chicken came from I never knew. I never had courage to ask. I only know that all our own died of that painful disease incident to the infancy of the domestic fowl, called the pip? I began to believe Mrs. Quigg an en- chantress. I rubbed my hands in a kind of desperate jollity, and snnhng wildly removed the remaining covers. Ham! pota- toes!! beets!! hash H! pork! !!! Why, bless you, we had a dinner fit for a prime minister. It was stylish. It was royaL Ned, our man, a little stunted Hercules, with exaggerated shoulders, and such a pair of calve~ as might set up the king of the Cobalds on his pins for life f Ned was promoted to the dignity of a pair of my white cotton driving-gloves, newly washed, and which is more, had performed the same unu- sual office to his face, and waited. But the most astonishing feature of that dinner, so promptly and wonderfully improvised, not for Mr. Jones Cartwrights sake, but for the sake of the people of New-York in general, and our set in particular, who were supposed to have sent him to spy out the nakedness of the landthe most stupend- ous triumph was the liquors. I knew that my wife had about 142 Th~ C4ronicle8 of Perseyoli~s. [Feb., half a bottle of old port, stuck away somewheres, as a sto- mache in extremity, namely, in case of a certain sinking at the stomach, to which ladies are sometimes subject. I knew also that there was a small bottle of very bitter bitters for the chills, if any body ever got them; and I knew also, very well indeed, that there was a gallon of the newest kind of apple-jack, or cider-whiskey on hand. But I certainly never imagined any one m~d enough to put either of the three upon the dinner-table. What was my surprise then, to hear that remarkable wife of mine pressing, actually pressing our guest to take portof two different vintages. Two kinds of port! And Heaven knows, and I knew, there had not been such a thing within forty miles of the place since grass first grew there. First, however, she indicated one bottle, and then the other. Now, I began to feel thirsty with all these wonders, and whilst she was pressing our guest to do justice to the wine, I did stretch out mine hand to help myself. Ouch! Mrs. Quigg trod on my pet corn. Trod, did I say? Stamped is the word. It was done as quick as light- ningright upon ithard upon itunrelentingly and fiercely upon it. I did not screech. I was too much frightened at my own audacity in daring to think of wine. I felt sick with pain and terror, but I made a heroic effort, and did not faint. I began to see how it was. I did remember me that, some year or so before, I had bought a bottle of Binningers old port, made famous to the world by some particular letter of the alphabet, which I have now forgotten. It was the residue of that bottle, combined with Mrs. Quiggs private drop, slight- ly broken down, as the dealers saythat is, watered, which now did duty for two bottles of two vintages.~~ Upon my honor, and in spite of that private signal by which my corn suffered, and although I knew the water must have spoiled it, I did long for some of that wine. But to parody the affecting lyric, in which a disconsolate young woman says some very harsh things of her mamma: I durst not touch a dTop For her ~ye was upon me. And that eye said, clearly and significantly as any preach- ing: Mr. Quigg, dont you dare to touch a drop of that not a drop for your life, Mr. Quigg. The man with a nose wondered at my abstinence. But I 1S~f3.] The Chroiiides of Persepoli8. 143 quickly put him at his ease, by a discourse upon temperance, which would have gone to Father Mathews heart of hearts. Heaven help me, thirsty sinner that I was, every sentence cost me A pang a~ great as when a giant dies. Bitt it imposed upon our simple-minded guest, and he fell instantly into the belief that I was, at the very least, a tho. rough-paced Washingtonian total-abstinence man. I had one comfort after all; that poor wretchs head was weak, uncom- monly weak; for half-a-dozen glasses of modified port loosened his tongue, and, in addition to being silly, he became also garrulous. He told us that his earlier tendencies had been towards the stage. I knew that, however, before; and no body who ever saw him could deny that he had remarkable powers that way. I remember once we were doing Pizarro, (private of course) and Cartwright was cast for the sentry. Determined to make the most of the part, he put in the stage directions, as part of the text, and when IRolla made as if to enter the cave and prison of Alonzo, Cartwright breasted him manfully, delivering at the same time, in a voice which gradually subsided into his boots: Backback! Pushing him back with his gun. Naturally, when he fired that gun at them, in melancholy thunderous tones remote, the audience went into strong hyste- rics, and the sentinel was immediately relieved by IRollas bursting into a guffaw, and vanishing. These histrionic yearnings had, however, he. informed cis, been graciously overruled by Providence, and the Episcopal ministry presented itself in a fascinating point of view. More pirofound study, however, carried him over to Presbyterianism. A severe cold had then shaken his convictions with regard to Protestantism, and a course of the Patristic writings almost persuaded him to be a Roman, when, suddenly, a turn in his disease, and, possibly, the great weight of his nose, precipitated him into the arms of the Millerites, and he assured us he was now laboring, with great success, in that particular fold. This agreeable relation brought him to the bottom of the bottle, and us to the end of the dinner; and the gentlema~ being by this time quite sleepy, was easily persuaded to take a napa siestaan afternoon snooze in his room. We put him safely away, and then went to work. 144 f/ike ($ronicle& of Per8epolis. [Feb., Mrs. Quigg was Arid indeed, and flamed amazement from the top of the house to the bottom. Messengers were dispatched to Persepolis, and by tea-time, we had levied contributions upon every shop in the place, (cm tick,) as well as invited and drawn together all the most dis- tinguished males and females thereof, to a regular blow out. When Cartwright awoke, the whole place was vocalvery vocal indeedwith the voices of an hundred fair ladies and their squires. He was in utter amazement. The tea-table was set, and all were just on the point of sitting down to it, when he appeared. His eyes opened to the width of saucers. During his sleep we had unpacked that barrd of china, which we never expected to unpack in those parts; and crimson, bufi and gold gorgeously illustrated the table from end to end. Recd spermacetti candles were burning in large branches at each end of the table; and, in short, we were as fine as five- penceand finer. Oh! the tea we forced that unhappy emissary of envious Gotham to drink! Oh! the waffles we forced that miserable spy of the Johnsons and Joneses to eat! Oh! the tongue, and ham, and Bologna sausage, and bread and butter, and hot biscuit, and pound cake, and jumbles with a hole in the middle, and jam, we crammed down the throat of that vacillating religionist, and miserable tool of inquisitive New-York. If he lived after it all it was a miracle. So, when tea was over, the fiddler camel and we danced all night; and, finally, by virtue of a bowl of punch, put him to bed as happy as a lord. But my wife went to bed that night happier still. Now, let him go back, said she, let him; and let them pump him. He cant say we dont live at Rougemont. I should fancy not. We lived for twenty that day. 1856.] f/Jo S. L. 1. 145 TO S. E. F. BY W. H. ~. HOSMER. I. A LADY asks a verse from me To stain this spotless leaf; A votive line to memory, Though fugitive and brief; And I comply, although mine eye On her has never gazed; Let Fancy paint a likeness faint, With look, to heaven upraised. II. She is a wife sincere and true, And loves the hearth Qf home; Her eyesI think they must be blue, Like heavens azure dome; Upon her knee a babe in glee Lifts up its sportive hands; While near~ the while, with happy smile, An honest husband stands. III. Long may your cup oerbrim with joy, Ye worthy wedded pair! And many a blooming girl and boy Your fire-side pleasures share. Ah! may ye know nor grief nor woe, In this dark world of ours, But down Lifes tide in safety ride Between bright banks of flowers.

W. H. C. Hosmer Hosmer, W. H. C. To S. E. F. 145-146

1856.] f/Jo S. L. 1. 145 TO S. E. F. BY W. H. ~. HOSMER. I. A LADY asks a verse from me To stain this spotless leaf; A votive line to memory, Though fugitive and brief; And I comply, although mine eye On her has never gazed; Let Fancy paint a likeness faint, With look, to heaven upraised. II. She is a wife sincere and true, And loves the hearth Qf home; Her eyesI think they must be blue, Like heavens azure dome; Upon her knee a babe in glee Lifts up its sportive hands; While near~ the while, with happy smile, An honest husband stands. III. Long may your cup oerbrim with joy, Ye worthy wedded pair! And many a blooming girl and boy Your fire-side pleasures share. Ah! may ye know nor grief nor woe, In this dark world of ours, But down Lifes tide in safety ride Between bright banks of flowers. 146 The 214stery of 3IiU8ZC. [Feb., THE MYSTERY OF MUSIC. -- The isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet sirs that give delight and hurt; not. Music is the only form of the beautiful, left to poor fallen man over which the trail of the serpent has not passed. Mis- place it in the haunts of vice, mis-ally it with coarse or sensual pleasures you may, but it takes no taint, brings away none of the slime. Released from its false position it comes forth pure as ever. Like the Lady, it is proof against all the arts of Comus and his beastly rout, and passes through them un- harmed. Music never slanders, spreads and perpetuates no calumny; is incapable of being made the medium of envy, strife, or hatred; can not utter treason or convey impurity hurts not. Hoffman, in his quaint German fashion, says: Every police director may safely give his testimony to the utter innocuousness of a newly-invented musical instrument, in all matters touching religion, the state, and public morals; and every music-master may unhesitatingly pledge his word to the parents of his pupils, that his new sonata does not con- tain one reprehensible idea. Just at this time when the Philharmonic Society of New- York is exerting such a wide influence, and becoming so amazingly popular with the younger portion of our commu- nity, we can not do better than to show them how much of their attention and love this delightful science may justly claim. We do not intend to attempt a formal review-article on this theme. With the strongest intentions leading that way, we should inevitably fail for want of ability; and with all the ability in the world, we should not feel inclined to be didactic or dignified on this subject. Our desire is simply to throw out some thoughts of our own, and other peoples that we have preserved, for the purpose of showing our young friends, that the art which has contributed so healthily to their amusement, affords many topics for philosophic meditation. Whence art thoufrom what causes dost thou spring, 0 music! thou divine, mysterious thing ?

The Mystery of Music 146-151

146 The 214stery of 3IiU8ZC. [Feb., THE MYSTERY OF MUSIC. -- The isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet sirs that give delight and hurt; not. Music is the only form of the beautiful, left to poor fallen man over which the trail of the serpent has not passed. Mis- place it in the haunts of vice, mis-ally it with coarse or sensual pleasures you may, but it takes no taint, brings away none of the slime. Released from its false position it comes forth pure as ever. Like the Lady, it is proof against all the arts of Comus and his beastly rout, and passes through them un- harmed. Music never slanders, spreads and perpetuates no calumny; is incapable of being made the medium of envy, strife, or hatred; can not utter treason or convey impurity hurts not. Hoffman, in his quaint German fashion, says: Every police director may safely give his testimony to the utter innocuousness of a newly-invented musical instrument, in all matters touching religion, the state, and public morals; and every music-master may unhesitatingly pledge his word to the parents of his pupils, that his new sonata does not con- tain one reprehensible idea. Just at this time when the Philharmonic Society of New- York is exerting such a wide influence, and becoming so amazingly popular with the younger portion of our commu- nity, we can not do better than to show them how much of their attention and love this delightful science may justly claim. We do not intend to attempt a formal review-article on this theme. With the strongest intentions leading that way, we should inevitably fail for want of ability; and with all the ability in the world, we should not feel inclined to be didactic or dignified on this subject. Our desire is simply to throw out some thoughts of our own, and other peoples that we have preserved, for the purpose of showing our young friends, that the art which has contributed so healthily to their amusement, affords many topics for philosophic meditation. Whence art thoufrom what causes dost thou spring, 0 music! thou divine, mysterious thing ? 18~6.] The Alystery of ililusic. 147 In vain shall we task the knowledge and experience of others, or our own sensations, to furnish a satisfactory answer to this question. In some unknown depth of our nature, so far down in our inner mysterious life that no moral or intellectual ana- tomy can reach it, to dissect, lay bare, and explain, lies this wondrous gift. Born of no material parent and traceable to nothing outward and external as its source, yet existing as we know within us, in the full strength and vigor of maturity Whence art thou, divine, mysterious thing? A clever writer says: We only know, and only can know of music that its science is an instinct of our natureits sub- jects, the emotions of our heartsthat at every step we ad- vance in its fundamental laws we are but deciphering what is written within us, not transcribing any thing from without. We know that the law which requires, that after three whole notes a half-note must succeed is a part of ourselvesa ne- cessity of our beingone of the signs that distingutsh man from the brute. With this illustration we are not quite satisfied. The minor scale which, by some good authorities, is claimed as the natural scale, has the half-tone after the second, and the old Italian probably had no half-tone at all. The authors position, however, is undoubtedly true, and the re- flection we would make is this, that when we undertake to reason about music in its more recondite relations, we shall be met at every turn by strange and contradictory phenomena, overturning our best-reasoned theories and puzzling our sci- ence hopelessly. We recollect reading, that once upon a time, the musicians instinct and the mathematicians demon- stration came into open conflict. The French mathematicians had demonstrated by a mathematical problem, which could not err, that D flat stood higher (that is, represented a more acute sound) than C sharp. Now, the musicians did not know much about the demonstration, exQept that whether it could err or not, they knew it was wrong here, and that the very converse of what it proved was true. Their instinct told them that; and their instinct they believed in above all the problems in the world. The theorists stood out manfully for their theory, which, mathematically, could not be wrong, and insisted, that the musicians musical organization must be faulty. DAlembert, Savart, and others, however, with the modesty which belongs to true greatness, admitted the error in the cal- 148 !1Ae A1yste~, of llfu8id. [Feb., culation, and confessed that some element too fine and impal- pable for science had been revealed to instinct. There is, however, a close and interesting relation between the two sci- ences, one which has never been more than partially de- veloped. The ordinary mention made in mathematical trea- tises of the division of vibrations of a string, into thirds, fifths, and eighths ~r octaves, and some other proportions, is but a glimpse, a faint hint of the boundless field of investigation, whichhas never yet been explored. To give a single instance, for we can not dilate on this point here, take a well-made violin, one which possesses a rich, full tone, and equal in all the different keys; one,, in fine, which is musically perfect, and you will find on examination, that this instrument presents in all its component parts a series of exact mathematical proportions; that it is mathematically as well as musically perfect. Our author above quoted, says: The con- nection between sounds and numbers is a fact which at once in- vests music with the highest dignity. lilt is like adding to the su- perstructure of a delicate flower the roots of an oak of the forest. Far from being a frivolous art, meant only for a pastime of the senses, in hours of idleness, it would seem to be of that import- ance to mankind, that we are expressly furnished with a dou- ble means of testing its truth. The simple instinct of a correct ear, and the closest calculations of a mathematical head give the same verdict. Science proves what the ear detects; the ear ratifies what science asserts ; instinct and demonstration coalesce as they do in no other art. The mere fact that music and mathematics should be allied, is a kind of phenomenon.~~ That the minds of DAlembert and Beethoven should have a common starting-point, seems wonderful enough. lilt is wonderful too that the same mind should be equally gifted in both these sciences; and especially wonderful that this so often happens as almost to warrant the induction that it forms the rule rather than the exception. A friend, who has the most perfect musical organization we ever knew, has also a most remarkable mathematical capacity. Mendelssohn is not more excellent as a composer than as a mathematician; and so of many others who might be named. It is not a little curious in this connection, that the alliance between poetry and musicthe popular notion that they are sister arts, and co~xist in the same organization, is a pure fallacy. Byron, Scott, Wordsworth, and Bryant, never com- posed a tune in their lives, and probably did not know, and could not learn to know a slow movement of Mozart from one 185f3j The Afy8tery of Ku8i~. 149 of Beethoven. Whilst, on the other hand, we console our- selves with the thought, that neither of the great composers we have named could write any better verses than we can. And this, we are free to confess, is stating their capacity in the poetic line at the lowest point. Amongst the many phenomena which present themselves for our contemplation, none are more interesting than the peculiar part which memory plays in connection with music. In all its other operations the mind exercises more or less ac- tivity in receiving impressions, in acquiring perceptions of the simplest external objects; whilst in laying up a store of musi- cal recollections, it makes not the slightest effort. And yet things thus added to it, when in a state of entire passivity, the mind retains with the most fidelity. The faintest glimpse of a thought, the bare hint of an idea brings up in all its vivid- ness, some strain impressed on the mind when it was scarcely conscious of the impression. Who can tell us why the ear should have such ready a~cess to the place where memory dwells, and be a life-long tenant there, more than any of the other organs or even sentiments? We may forget the land- scape which spread away in front of the cottage where we were born; the picture that hung over the fire-place; the woman we loved or the man we hated; the ambition we cherished; but the tunes that mother or nurse sang for us, that the blind fiddler played at the door, have become part of our very mind. But more wonderful still, even where reason is unseated from her throne, and memory presents only distorted and un- natural pictures of every other thou.ght, emotion, or impres- sion, adding new horrors to the scene, some well-known strain comes to the mind or ear, and memory, in that strong and true as ever, will repeat the air. The crazed mother sings her babe to sleep as she once did before a cold worlds scorn had turned her brain to fire. The dramatists and poets have well understood this pecu- liarity. Their close observation of nature has led them when they exhibit the passion of madness, to introduce their charac- ters singing snatches of old airs learned in infancy, or in hap- pier times. The master Shakspeare makes poor Ophelia, divided from herself and her fair judgment, come in sing- ing: How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle-hat and stafi And his sandal shoon. ico The 3fystery of 3fu~ic. [Feb., So, too, Scotts Blanche of iDevon, introduced to us as a crazed and captive Lowland maid, singing the song she learned by Devon side, in a voice which rung wildly sweet to dale and hill: For oh! my sweet William was forester true, lie stole poor Blanches heart away! lli~ coat it was all of the greenwood hue, And so blithely he trilled the lowland lay! The power of musical memory in cases of insanity is well established, and when called into play always exercises a be- neficent influence. One of the most remarkable instances on record is that of Philip V. of Spain. The king had been laboring under a melancholy madness for some time, had re- fused to shave or change his dress, when some one happily suggested that Farinelli should be sent for. This was done, and the great singer came, and placing himself in a chamber next adjoining that of the kings, sang an air which had been an especial favorite with the unhappy monarch. As the singer continued, the air of listless melancholy which had for so long a time marked the whole demeanor of the king, began to give place to an expression of pleased attention, which con- tinued as long as Farinelli sang. This was repeated frequently through the day, and for many days, until at length Philip V. was completely restored. It is worthy to be toad, though whether music deserves the credit or not we can not with any certainty determine, that this case forms an exception to royal ingratitude, and opera-singers presumption. For the history which we read, goes on to relate that the king bestowed honor and splendid estates on Farinelli, who bore his honors so gently, and spent his money so generously, that he came well-nigh to living peacefully with the Castilian nobility. As we have already said, there are many phenomena con- nected with this science that will puzzle our metaphysics and dialectics to explain. We had better in most cases imitate the example of DAlem- bert, and take it for granted that there is something too fine and impalpable in its essence to be rightly measured, weighed or defined by exact science. Some things we do know about it. We know that it is pr& minently univocal. In all time and to every heart it speaks one and the same language. Differ- ing from most things, it differs in nothing more than this, that the bad and the goodthe tyrant and the patriotthe heathen and the Christianthe scoffer and the believer, have all alike 1714e Cloven Foot. 151 felt its influence, and, discordant on every other point, have united to do it homage. If Alfred loved music, so did Nero. If Cceur de Lion was a sweet musician, so was Charles IX Martin Luther the Reformer, and Pope Gregory the head of the Church Milton the divine Democrat, and Charles II. the debased king?; Henry VilE defender of the Faith and of the divine right of kings, and Oliver Cromwell, the hammer of the Lord, to break kings in pieces, all, while agreeing in no other point of be- lief; united to pay true, hearty homage to the science of music. All ages and conditions of menthe old man tottering on the brink of the grave, stays his palsied step, and listens with more of youthful animation than aught else can give, to the well-remembered strains of his early years: the young man dashing wildly into the whirlpool of life at the bidding of pleasure and ambition, takes a short breathing space, in his mad rush, when the songs of home and childhood fill the air.~~ Kings upon their thrones, and beggars at the gates, rich and poor, wise and simple, passionate and meek, children, in- sane, and puir witless bodies, all love music. There is but one order of beings, as Luther says, who hate musicdevils. THE CLOVEN FOOT. imto bad causes swear, Such creatures as men doubt ; SIIAK. IN estimating the value of horses, cattle, sheep, and even pigs, their pedigree is often very properly considered. Whe- ther that of the political proclivities of men may not with equal propriety and profit be inquired into will appear in the sequel. By so doing we may perhaps find a father for what might otherwise appear to be a party upon a platform so en- tirely fresh and original as to seem a new creation. We con- tend that there is always some leaven of original righteonsness or original sin, and perhaps both, in man and all his inven

The Cloven Foot 151-157

1714e Cloven Foot. 151 felt its influence, and, discordant on every other point, have united to do it homage. If Alfred loved music, so did Nero. If Cceur de Lion was a sweet musician, so was Charles IX Martin Luther the Reformer, and Pope Gregory the head of the Church Milton the divine Democrat, and Charles II. the debased king?; Henry VilE defender of the Faith and of the divine right of kings, and Oliver Cromwell, the hammer of the Lord, to break kings in pieces, all, while agreeing in no other point of be- lief; united to pay true, hearty homage to the science of music. All ages and conditions of menthe old man tottering on the brink of the grave, stays his palsied step, and listens with more of youthful animation than aught else can give, to the well-remembered strains of his early years: the young man dashing wildly into the whirlpool of life at the bidding of pleasure and ambition, takes a short breathing space, in his mad rush, when the songs of home and childhood fill the air.~~ Kings upon their thrones, and beggars at the gates, rich and poor, wise and simple, passionate and meek, children, in- sane, and puir witless bodies, all love music. There is but one order of beings, as Luther says, who hate musicdevils. THE CLOVEN FOOT. imto bad causes swear, Such creatures as men doubt ; SIIAK. IN estimating the value of horses, cattle, sheep, and even pigs, their pedigree is often very properly considered. Whe- ther that of the political proclivities of men may not with equal propriety and profit be inquired into will appear in the sequel. By so doing we may perhaps find a father for what might otherwise appear to be a party upon a platform so en- tirely fresh and original as to seem a new creation. We con- tend that there is always some leaven of original righteonsness or original sin, and perhaps both, in man and all his inven 152 The Cloven Foo?5. [Feb., tions. The modest, unassuming cognomen of Know-No- thing strikes the mind at first as something new; but when the objects of the organization are disclosed, and the ends it aims at, pointed out, its novelty vanishes, and we behold in the field an old enemy, whose great-grandfather the oldest inhabitant was well acquainted with. Know-Nothingism is the lineal descendant of a somewhat illustrious and very noto- rious political house; and is heir to its honors, its virtues, its patriotism, its exclusiveness, and its disgrace. Its great grand- father flourished in the time of the elder Adams, and rendered itself conspicuous by the enactment of the Alien and Sedition laws of that remarkable period. The alien law was identical in principle with the doctrine upon which Know-Kothingism plants its standard. The only difference (if it be such) con- sists in the secresy with which deeds which were odious in the light may now be perpetrated in the dark. Men are said to seek darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil. The Federalists were men of more courage; and, as courage and honesty generally exist in the same breast, it is fair to in- fer that they had more integrity than the bantling of the fourth generation, with which the Democracy of the present day have to contend. In the Federal generation of Know- Nothingism, a lantern with a blue light in it, placed upon a can- dlestick, was a significant emblem of its patriotism. It was used in time of war to guide their friends from the fast-an- chored isle to a safe landing-place upon our shores. This was open and above board. Their proceedings against strangers who might come hither to escape oppression or from admi- ration of our social and political institutions, were also perpe- trated in broad daylight, and backed by the sanction of pub- lie, though unconstitutional, enactments. So far, they did not shun the light or conceal their own. The reason may have been that, inasmuch as the light that was in them was dark- ness, it needed no concealment. The dark lantern of their plan was also an open piece of work. It ornamented the other horn of their altar. It was the sedition law, vulgarly termed the gag law. The oldest inhabitant may possibly recollect that this enactment protected the high functionaries then in power from the unmannerly rudeness of the public press. Could public sentiment have been dragooned into submission to a statute so subversive of liberty, and so fraught with dan ger to free institutions, there never would have been need of secret organizations of unpatriotic men to accomplish sectarian ends, or to oppress the strangers within our gates. An oh- 1856] The Cloven Foot. 153 garchy might have existed amongst us, if silence could have been enforced; one perhaps as much to be dreaded and as fatal to freedom as Know-Nothingism will be if the govern- ment shall ever come within the grasp of its oath-bound vota- ries. The enforcing of the gag-law was attempted; and that fearless and uncompromising champion of open~handed, flat- footed Democracythe late William Duane of Philadelphia had forty indictments, under its provisions, pending against him at one time. Jefferson came to the rescue, and all was set right. The National Republican generation of this House of Darkness will be kept in memory so long as history shall faith- fully record the struggle which resulted in the election of An- drew Jackson, in 1828, and his re~Aection, after having vetoed the U. S. Bank, in 1832. Irish hod-carriers and ignorant foreigners were charged with all the misfortune, defeat, and disgrace in which Federalism had gone down to perdition, and its successor had been brought to the brink of the precipice. No well-informed man who participated in the stirring scenes of General Jacksons administration can fail to recollect with what ridicule and malevolence the class of voters, consisting of naturalized citizens, were visited by the National Republican party and its journals. The hatred manifested in the passage of the alien bill at an earlier period was unabated up to the time the party was compelled to go through with a second operation, we forget what it is called, which changes a worm into a butterfly. The removal of the deposits brought about this change. It was solemnly resolved, that the ancient and honorable house of Federalism, not having been able to retrieve its fallen fortunes under the National Republican~~ standard, should thenceforward be known as a whig party. But in its new name, its old acts, principles, and proclivities remained unchanged. It still hated every thing but itself; and prayed still: God bless me and my wife, My son John and his wife, We four, and no more. There was no perceptible change in its tone towards the foreign population till 1852, and that change was so manifestly a naked fraud,a piece of such unblushing hypocrisy,that the hod-carriers couldnt swallow it. Whigism and its downfall completed the third symbolical generation of the party which now rejoices in the high fortunes 11 154 The Clove~i Foot. [Feb., of Know-Nothingism. What bad men could not accomplish in open warfare, they are now seeking to perpetuate by a secret consp1racy. Let us look for a moment at their prospects. It must be borne in mind, that the Know-Nothing order does not take in the whole of those who acted as Whigs. It only embraces that part of the Whigs proper which comprise its aristocracy, bigotry, and intolerance. The fanatic part, made up chiefly of that portion which had been anti-masons, abolitionists, and free-soilers, are organized, in a half-way sort of separate opposi- tion to the Democratic party, under Seward, who repudiates the dark-lantern oligarchy. Western New-York, Northern Ohio, the States of Vermont and Massachusetts, and some por- tions of Pennsylvania, were the only parts of the country where anti-masonry, as a political organization, had any strong foot- hold. Its organization was abandoned for the benefit of the Whig party during the last term of Jacksons presidency, and, upon that event, some of the younger inhabitants may remem- ber, the abolition p artynot then fully recognized by him, but now led by William II. Sewardcame into existence. A class of politicians who had ridden the anti-masonic hobby till it became a rack of bones, wanted a fresh one, and chose this. It is worthy of remark that almost the entire force of what constitutes the Black Republican party is from tbe identical territory where anti-masonry flourished, and consists of the same men and their descendants. It is also worthy of consi dera- tion, in computing the prospect of any accessions to the Know- Nothings from such a quarter, and should be taken into account, that these men were for years enthusiastically and fiercely arrayed against a secret order far less dangerous to public liberty, not political in its character, and on which it could only be shown, and that not fully, that a single individual had been a victim df its vengeance, in accordance with the imprecations contained in its oath of secresy. There is now offered for their support a secret order of politicians who in the most solemn manner call God to witness that they will hereafter make a mans birth- place and his religion a bar to his participation in the privi- leges and honors legally vouchsafed to him by our constitution and laws. Masonry they branded as an institution carable of acting secretly and wickedly at the ballot-box, by preferring its own members to other men of equal merit, and by secret concert securing their election. They are now called upon to contemplate the stupendous power to do evil possessed by 1856.] The Cloven JJbot. 155 a wealthy and numerous class, not only capable of the wicked- ness charged upon the masonic order, but in the skirts of whose garments the life-blood of many is already to be found; and who profess an exclusiveness which recognizes no man, not in the conspiracy, as fit to hold an office of honor or trust in the government. The natural impulse of nine-tenths even of the abolitionists is to put down and crush out such an infamously secret, oath-bound confederation of ambitious men. Let us take another view of its prospects of success. Will any impartial and sound-minded man pretend that it is not already a house divided against itself? We assert that it stands at this moment before the country a mongrelized, Janus- faced, and cloven-footed object of execration. The Southern portion of its members are unanimously in favor of the com- promise measures of 1850, and the principles established by the passage of the Nebraska bill. It thus plants one foot in the South with a smiling face, and tells the people of that sec- tionwhat? It announces that its principles are precisely the same as those asserted and vindicated by the Democracy, so far as Southern interests are in question. They quote a section of their platform to prove this. At the North, the conspiracy wears a different aspect, and stands upon a cloven-foot. Half its members are openly and fiercely opposed to the fugitive slave law, and not only demand its repeal as a sine ~ua non, but the repeal of the Nebraska Act and the restoration of the Missouri Compromise line. The other half give a reluctant assent to the national principles put forth in a section of the Philadelphia platform. The glaring fact is before the country that delegates from the States North and West met very re- cently at Cincinnati, and there, with singular unanimity, passed resolutions condemning and repudiating the only section of the Philadelphia platform that gives the conspiracy the least possible chance of support in a single Southern State. Suc- cess in New-York over the Seward faction, where there was ~ spirited contest for supremacy between the two, has em- boldened the Know-Nothings to endorse the national feature of their creed; but in no New-England State nor in any West- ern one has such assent been given, nor can it be obtained. The Democracy of the North, East, and West are consequently the only shield upon which the South can rely to protect their interests from the aggressive policy of the abolitionists. They now present an unbroken phalanx, with all the national prin- ciples of the Democratic. party emblazoned upon their standard. Upon these principles they are perfectly united, even in New- I~f3 The Cloven~ Rot. [Feb., York, and ready to do battle for the nominees of the Cincin- nati Convention. Can the South be bamboozled with the idea that the constitution, which guarantees them security and peace, can be safely entrusted to men who are sworn to violate its spirit and meaning? Such an imputation would be a reflec- tion upon their intelligence. We claim that in the coming Presidential contest, the North will present an unbroken front in opposition to Know-Nothingism. Can it carry Vermont? Fusion has that in its breeches-pocket already. Can it carry New-York? The Democrats have a decided majority over either of the two factions into which Whiggery is divided. In Massachusetts, when the Abolition and Free-soil gentry are counted out, there will scarcely be a corporals guard for the night-walkers to glory in. IRhode Island, Connecticut New- Hampshire, and Maine went for Pierce and King in 1852, and they will go Democratic again, unless there is such a fusion of Black Republicans and Know-Nothings as leaves neither faction its identity. It is possible they may harness the ox and the ass together in defiance of the command of God; but if they do, we shall behold a scene of hooking on the part of the ox, and kicking performed by the ass, that will be both amusing and instructive. NOTESince the foregoing was in type, we have been reminded of a somewhat celebrated secret political association which existed during the war of ] 812. The Veterans will remember it welL It resulted in the Hartford Convention, which also conducted its patriotic deliberations with closed doors. In New-England, nearly the whole body of the Federalists opposed to the war belonged to it. The initiation fee was one dollar. Each member received a little book containing, amongst other things, a certificate of his membership, signed by the officers of the Lodge to which he belonged. The funds thus collected were appropriated to the political objects of the Federal party. The organization was styled Tus WASH- INGTON BENIWOLENT SOcIETY. It died of a broken heart, soon after the battle of New-Orleans. 1856.] The lAfe and TForks of Goethe. 157 L~f~ and Works of Goethe. By G. II. LEWES. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. FEW readers of the present day but have at some time read The Sorrows of Werther. It was as common twenty or thirty years ago, as The Three Spaniards, Alonzo and ilfelissa, or Charlotte TempleY You could not put up at a country tavern without seeing it in the parlor beside the Bible, nor visit a cir- culating library without finding three or four dogs-eared copies of it on the first shelf. Baron Von Goethe, as the title-page called him, was a famous man. The early works of Goethe were unfortunate for his after-reputation. The class of readers who admired them most, the sentinientalists of TlTerther, and the romantacists of Goetz Von Berlichingen were unfitted to judge his calmer and more classic efforts, whilst those who disliked him as he appeared in the storm and stress period of his literary life were equally blind to his riper merits. The Goethe of IYerther is not the true Goethe, not the wise old man of Weimar, rich in experience and culture, but the, eccentric, dare- devil student, self-questioning, and impatient of control. There was never a sounder intellect than Goethes: there was never a more unsound book than Iferther. Extremes meet in the life and works of this wonderful man. After Werther, Faust is his most popular work, and probably the one by which posterity will know and judge him. It is an incomparable master-piece, as great in its way as The Odyssey or Hamlet. It touches the secret of life, the mystery of the universe. All thoughts, all passions, all delights; Whatever stirs this mortal frame, find a recognition in it. It lets the light into the deepest and darkest cells of the human heart. Its pathos and humor are alike excell~nt and profound. Concerning Goethe we have known but little up to the pre- sent time; that is, those of us who only read English. To be sure we have several biographies, more or less lengthy and accurate. For instance, Parke Godwins translation of Wahr- heit und Dichtung, originally published in Putnams Library of books which are books, and afterwards printed by Oxenford and re-printed in Bohns Standard Library. Still we knew but

Life and Works of Goethe. By G. H. Lewes 157-160

1856.] The lAfe and TForks of Goethe. 157 L~f~ and Works of Goethe. By G. II. LEWES. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. FEW readers of the present day but have at some time read The Sorrows of Werther. It was as common twenty or thirty years ago, as The Three Spaniards, Alonzo and ilfelissa, or Charlotte TempleY You could not put up at a country tavern without seeing it in the parlor beside the Bible, nor visit a cir- culating library without finding three or four dogs-eared copies of it on the first shelf. Baron Von Goethe, as the title-page called him, was a famous man. The early works of Goethe were unfortunate for his after-reputation. The class of readers who admired them most, the sentinientalists of TlTerther, and the romantacists of Goetz Von Berlichingen were unfitted to judge his calmer and more classic efforts, whilst those who disliked him as he appeared in the storm and stress period of his literary life were equally blind to his riper merits. The Goethe of IYerther is not the true Goethe, not the wise old man of Weimar, rich in experience and culture, but the, eccentric, dare- devil student, self-questioning, and impatient of control. There was never a sounder intellect than Goethes: there was never a more unsound book than Iferther. Extremes meet in the life and works of this wonderful man. After Werther, Faust is his most popular work, and probably the one by which posterity will know and judge him. It is an incomparable master-piece, as great in its way as The Odyssey or Hamlet. It touches the secret of life, the mystery of the universe. All thoughts, all passions, all delights; Whatever stirs this mortal frame, find a recognition in it. It lets the light into the deepest and darkest cells of the human heart. Its pathos and humor are alike excell~nt and profound. Concerning Goethe we have known but little up to the pre- sent time; that is, those of us who only read English. To be sure we have several biographies, more or less lengthy and accurate. For instance, Parke Godwins translation of Wahr- heit und Dichtung, originally published in Putnams Library of books which are books, and afterwards printed by Oxenford and re-printed in Bohns Standard Library. Still we knew but 158 The ]3fe and Works of Goethe. [Feb., little of Goethe. The Wahrheit und Dichtung ends with his twenty-sixth or seventh year~ in many respects the most un- eventful period of his life. His long connection with the Court of Weimar, the exalted personages, noble, literary, and artistic, with which it brought him in contact; the many and widely different works it producedin fact, his whole man- hood and age remained a myth to the majority of readers ont of Germany. It is a myth no longer, thanks to the admirable volumes of Mr. Lewes. We are not sure that they will satisfy the great Germans worshippers, so closely and dispassionately does Mr. Lewes dissect his life in its various phases, and so honestly state his own opinions regarding some of Goethes enigmas and mistakes; but they will charm the world of general readers, and take a permanent place among the best biogra- phies in the language. Mr. Lewes admires and loves Goethe, but he does not blindly adhere to him: the fetish worship of genius forms no portion of his literary breed. He mottoes his book from Jung Stilling: Goethes heart which none knew, was as great as his mind which all knew ; but he fails, we think, to make ont his case. Goethes life can scarcely be considered a pattern of propriety. He kept a mis- tress for years, and had a bad habit of falling in love with the last pretty face that he saw. If the pretty face happened to belong to another man it made but little difference to the sus- ceptible poet. He was not above coveting his neighbors wife. These are not deadly sins in the decalogue of genius, however much they may be condemned by Moses and the Prophets. We deplore them, and pass on. They are not incompatible with that strange thing which we call heart; the mores the pity. But a certain coldness and selfishness of nature which Goethe possessed makes us doubt the heart of any man in whom they are inherent. Setting aside his violations of the moral law he some how fails to satisfy the law of our affections. The light of his glory Plays round the head, but comes not near the heart. It may be that our feeling is wrong, but we can not reason against itbecause it is a feeling! We admire Goethe, but do not love him. Stillings motto, and Mr. Lewess fine writing go for nothing here. Elsewhere we unhesitatingly place our- selves in his hands, and follow him through the stately palace of Goethes life. All literary students and lovers of biography should read, mark, and inwardly digest it. 1856.] The L?fe and IFork8 of Goethe. 159 Mr. Lewes we believe is the Vivian of the London Leader, and as a theatrical critic has, in our opinion, no superior. There are no false refinements, or mere word-catches in his criticisms. They display a large feeling for the drama, and a more than ordinary acquaintance with its best masters. To him Marlowes mighty line must be familiar. We do not find, however, that he contrasts anywhei~e the Faust of Goethe, and the Faustus of Marlowe. To us the latter has always seemed the greater work. Shakspeare appreciated Marlowe; he evidently ranked him highest amongst the dra. matists of the age which wore upon its garments the jewels of Marston, Dekkar, Rowley, Massinger, Ford, John Lyly, and Rare Old Ben; and upon its brow the round and top of his own imperial sovereignty over nature. Marlowe always connects himself in our mind with Goethe by the mysticism of Faust. What Robinson Crusoe is to the physical passion of the mindlonging for some strange, far-off place to act out its capacities for creationsome spot no other foot has trodsome solitude to people with the actual reproduction of the wild models made in day-dreamsFaust is to the mental longing for immortal powerpower transcending humanity, yet taking humanity, with all its weaknesses and luxurious desires, along with itand tipping the edge of common appetite with eternal adamant. Thus, in the Faustus of Marlowe this finds expres- sion:. as where Mephistophilus brings Helen of Troy before him to be his paramour, and Faustus stretches his arms wildly towards, and cries: Is this the face that fired a thousand ships, And burned the topless towers of Ilium? Come, Helen, make me immortal with a kiss! Her lips suck forth my soulsee where it flies ! There is a simple grandeur also in the metaphysical parts of Marlowe which seem to us to rise into a higher air than Goethe reaches: as for instance, when Faustus asks Mephistophilus, Where is hell; his Satanic Compagnon du voyage replies: Hell is not circumscribed to one self place, 2But when the elements sh4l be burned up, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be .Uel~ that are not Heaven. A notice of a memoir is not perhaps the best place for such a comparison as institutes itself in our mind between Marlowe 160 The Progress of Baptis?~ Principles. [Feb., and Goethe. We merely indicate it in the hope of drawing out Mr. Lewes, or some other critic competent to the task of a good. article on the comparative merits of the two Fausts. The Progress of Baptist Prindples in the last Hundred Years. By THOMAS F. CURTIS, Professor of Theology in the Uni- versity at Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. Boston: Gould and Lincoln. New-York: Sheldon, Lamport & Blakeman. WE are something at a loss how to enter upon a critical dis- cussion of the merits of Professor Curtiss work. The merits of different doctrinal systems, and relative excellence of reli- gioris forms of belief are not subjects which we feel called to discuss. The relationship of religious institutions, and senti- ments of action to the political life and structure of states is one which falls clearly within the province of a political maga. zine. That the internal policy, and external structure, and in- fluence of Baptist churches assimilates most nearly to iRepub- licanismthal, it is, in fact, a pure Republican form of Christ- ianity, it seems to us their history very clearly shows. At the basis of their system lies the .VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLE. The same principle underlies all Democratic Republicanism. A church, therefore, which ignores distinctions between men; which rejects hierarchies and aristocratic badges; which consists of a voluntary association of individuals, and denies the power or right of civil government to interfere with hu- man conscience in matters of religion, appears to us the most powerful ally of Democracy in civil government. Professor Curtis undertakes to show that this is the case with regard to Baptists and Baptist principles. He cites his authorities, and invites examination. As the fairest criticism upon his book we give a running synopsis of its contents and arguments, leaving to those who dissent the opportunity of examining for themselves to see if these things be so. Their principles, he says, embrace: 1. Freedom of Conscience, and the entire separation of Church and State. 2. A Converted Church Membership. 3. Sacraments inoperative without Choice and Faith.

The Progress of Baptist Principles in the Last Hundred Years. By Thomas F. Curtis 160-168

160 The Progress of Baptis?~ Principles. [Feb., and Goethe. We merely indicate it in the hope of drawing out Mr. Lewes, or some other critic competent to the task of a good. article on the comparative merits of the two Fausts. The Progress of Baptist Prindples in the last Hundred Years. By THOMAS F. CURTIS, Professor of Theology in the Uni- versity at Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. Boston: Gould and Lincoln. New-York: Sheldon, Lamport & Blakeman. WE are something at a loss how to enter upon a critical dis- cussion of the merits of Professor Curtiss work. The merits of different doctrinal systems, and relative excellence of reli- gioris forms of belief are not subjects which we feel called to discuss. The relationship of religious institutions, and senti- ments of action to the political life and structure of states is one which falls clearly within the province of a political maga. zine. That the internal policy, and external structure, and in- fluence of Baptist churches assimilates most nearly to iRepub- licanismthal, it is, in fact, a pure Republican form of Christ- ianity, it seems to us their history very clearly shows. At the basis of their system lies the .VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLE. The same principle underlies all Democratic Republicanism. A church, therefore, which ignores distinctions between men; which rejects hierarchies and aristocratic badges; which consists of a voluntary association of individuals, and denies the power or right of civil government to interfere with hu- man conscience in matters of religion, appears to us the most powerful ally of Democracy in civil government. Professor Curtis undertakes to show that this is the case with regard to Baptists and Baptist principles. He cites his authorities, and invites examination. As the fairest criticism upon his book we give a running synopsis of its contents and arguments, leaving to those who dissent the opportunity of examining for themselves to see if these things be so. Their principles, he says, embrace: 1. Freedom of Conscience, and the entire separation of Church and State. 2. A Converted Church Membership. 3. Sacraments inoperative without Choice and Faith. 1856.] The Proare& s of Bc& ptiet Prine~ple~. 161 4. Believers the only Scriptural Subjects of Baptism. 5. Immersion always the Baptism of the New Testament, Fines, fetters, and banishment alone appeared the suitable reward for such opinions. Now, on the contrary, it is the chief complaint of evangeli- cal Pedobaptists that the difference is so unimportant as not to justify Bap- tists in maintaining their peculiarities as a distinct denomination. 1REEDOM 01 CONSCIENcE, AND THE PERFECT SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE. Two points which, superficially viewed, may seem distinct, are here con- nected together, because they will be found to resolve themselves essentially into one great principle. The utmost distinction is, that the union of Church and State puts a premium upon one form of religion, while all other opposi- tion to freedom of conscience places a penalty upon another. But as ifl the former case the Church which is established receives a premium from the dissenter, its union with the State involves, in fact, a stigma, a penalty on all other forms of worship, and this being compulsory, is persecution. Free- dom of conscience can not be fully and fairly predicated where any penalty is attached to its exercise. Of the millions of all denominations in this country, who now enjoy so perfectly as we do the inestimable blessing of religious liberty, and of all those who throughout Europe and the world are advocating it in various de- grees, few are aware how much they are indebted for these views and en- j~yments to the Baptists; fewer still know that this indebtedness, such as it is, is not mere accident, but a necessary consequence of theiv distinctive peculiarities as a denomination. They may probably have learned from Bancroft that Roger Williams was the first Christian legislator who intro- duced perfect religious liberty into the constitution of any State, but are not aware, perhaps, that these views were advocated publicly in London by the Baptists, with great zeal, a few years before he came to this country. Or if prepared to go so far, they are probably ignorant that the advocacy of this spiritual freedom is to be traced in connection with Baptist sentiments, long before the time of Luther, among the Waldenses, and through such men as Arnold of Brescia, Peter de Bruis, and the Henricans, back probably to the Donatists, and the time of Constantine the Great. Arnold of Brescia about A.D. 1136-.57, maintained the same views, but with a greater vigor and immediate political effect and distinct- ness than any of his predecessors or cotemporaries. Liberty, Sacred and secular, was the greatobje.ct of his life. He produced an immense effect upon Europe and his age, and gave an impulse to those reforming move- ments in the Church of Rome that are distinctly traceable as the germs from which, four hundred years later, sprang the great Protestant Reforma- tion. As Dr. Brewster says: Insisting that the kingdo~i of~ God is not of this world, he maintained that the temporal power of the Church was an un- principled usurpation of the rights of princes, and that all the corruptions which disgraced the Christian faith, and all the animosities which distracted the Church, sprang from the overgrown possessions of the clergy. He commenced in his native city, but it was in Rome itself that the amazing power of this man and of his principles were chiefly successful. He restored the Roman Republic, and maintained it for ten years. Four Popes success- ively driven from the Eternal City, tried in vain to subdue him. At last when Frederick Barbarossa, hired for that purpose, had succeeded in cap- 162 f/ike Progre& ~ of Bapti8t Principles. [Feb., turing him, so fearful of his popularity were those in power, that having strangled him in prison, his body was burned and his ashes thrown into the Tiber, lest the people should idolize his beloved remains. There is an epitome of the faith of the Waldenses of the twelfth century, given by the Centuriators of Magdeburg, which does not say any thing about infant baptism one way or other, but asserts, the Pope hath not the pri- macy over all the Churches of Christ, neither hctth he the power of both swords. But another full confession of their faith of the same century (A.D. 1120) says: We hold in abhorence all human inventions, as proceeding from Antichrist, which produce distress and are prejudicial to the liberty of the mind. Enough this to show that from the time of Pope Sylvester, that is, from the time of Constantine, when he united the spiritual and temporal power, there is every reason to feel assured that there has been a hody of men who have opposed the whole of this, and have vigorously maintained freedom of conscience and the entire separation of Church and State. If we turn now to the history of this great principle since the Reforma- tion, the Mennonites must claim our first notice. At a time when all other denominations sought to establish themselves by alliances with the State, and too frequently by becoming the persecutors of their brethren, the Men. nonites, who sprang out of the Waldenses in 1536, contended for perfect liberty of conscience, and that the magistrates had no right to interfere with religious convictions. This opinion is founded on the one principle, which, as Mosheim justly remarks, is at the basis of all their peculiarities, that is, that the kingdom which Christ has established on earth is a visible society or company, in which is no place for any but holy or pious persons. Hence all connection with mere state institutions, where the terms of mem- bership must be different, they regarded as injurious. In this they have always persevered, and when about the year 1820, on the publication of the proofs of their ancient origin, by Professor Upeij and Dr. Dermont, they were offered government support by the King of the Netherlands, and recog- nition as a state religion, they declined the bounty on the ground that it was contrary to their oldest and most settled principles. Henry VIII. burned Papists and Baptists at the same stake to prove himself Defender of the Faith, and Cranmers hands were stained with the blood of pious women, while Queen Elizabeth re-lighted the fires of Smith- field, like her father, to burn Anabaptists and Catholics. King James re- solved to break the spirit of the Non-conformists if it would not bow, and caused them to quit the country in large numbers. J~ the reign of Charles I., Archbishop Laud ruled the Church with a rod of iron; fines, imprison- ments, cutting off the ears, branding in the face, and tortures of all kinds were inflicted. Nor did the Presbyterians, when they obtained the power, neglect using the authority of the state to persecute, as well as promote, in .their turn. In 1638, while Roger Williams was battling for freedom of conscience with Massachusetts, and nearly thirty years after their principles had been pub- licly avowed in London by the Baptists, we find the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in Scotland interfering with the liberty of the press and the civil power in a manner never exceeded by Popery itself. They forbade all printers in the kingdom from printing or re-printing any con- fesssion of faith, or protestation, or reason pro or contra, in regard to reli- gious controversies, without warrant subscribed by the clerk to the As- sembly. in 1642, Roman Catholics were ordered to renounce their 1856.] like Progress of Baptist Principles. 163 obstinacy under penalty of banishment or imprisonment, as might seem fit. But in 1560, early in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the Baptists in Great Britain publicly wrote and published their protestations against all persecu- tion, for conscience sake. John Knox replied to one of these publications, in a Treatise called An answer to a great number of blasphemous Cavillations, written by an Ani~baptist and adversary of Gods eternal Predestination, and confuted by John Knox. Alluding to persecuting Christians, the Bap- tist had said: Be these I pray you, the sheep whom Christ hath sent forth in the midst of wolves; can the sheep persecute the wolf? Doth Abel kill Cain? Doth David, though he might, kill Saul? Doth he which is born after the spirit kill him that is born after the flesh ? To all this John Knox replies: I will not now so much labor to confute by my pen, as my full purpose is to lay the same to thy charge if I shall ap- prehend thee in any commonwealth where justice against blasphemers may be ministered as Gods word requireth. And hereof I give thee warning lest that after thou shalt complain that under the cloak of friendship I have deceived thee. Wert thou my natural brother, I durst not conceal thine ini- quity in this case. In 1610, we find John Robinson, the celelirated Puritan divine, the father of the Pilgrims, writing earnestly ir~ defense of the power of the magistrate to punish civilly, religious actions, he being the preserver of both tables~ and so to punish all branches of both. He is to by compulsion, repress public and notable idolatry, as also to provide that the truth of God in his ordinance be taught and published, and by some penalty to provoke his sub- jects universally unto hearing for their instruction and conversion; yea, to inflict the same upon them ~f after due teaching they offer not themselves unto the Church. Opposed to him was John Smyth, originally an Episcopal clergyman, of such superior abilities that Bishop Hall speaks even of John Robinson as no more than his shadow. He thinking it would be a great help and en- couragement to the Baptists in England for the exiles to return and openly avow their sentiments, put himself at the head of his brethren and returned with them as their pastor to London, in order as they declared that Christ might say to them, ministering to their persecuted brethren, I was in pri- son and ye visited me, in distress and ye comforted me. They deter- mined to challenge king and state to their faces, and not give way to them, no, not a foot. Thus they returned to their own country, there to vindi- cate the greet principles of moral and religious freedom. How much Eng- land, how much America, how much the whole world owes and will owe to this one great act of unsurpassed moral heroism, who can tell? John Robinson in Holland not only opposed the return of Mr. Smyth to England, but was still more opposed to his views of the right of Conscience. In 1614, he published an attack upon these, which led. to an extended con- troversy between him and Mr. Helwisse, Mr. Smyths successor. It will be evident thus far that the difference between the Baptists and all other Christian sects, at this time, was not one of degree, but of principle. It was not as to the measure of toleration, but of an inalienable eight to ab- stract liberty of conscience. About this time, or soon after, a Welsh lad was noticed by Sir Edward Coke on account of his manuscript notes of cases argued before the Star Chamber, and of Sermons. This great man, the promoter of liberty, became the patron, friend, and almost father of this lad, who in turn cherish- 164 The Progress of Bapti8t Princ~ple~. [Feb., ed an enthusiastic regard for the life and writings of his benefactor. Coke got him into one of the most famous public schools in Londonthe Charter Housewhere his abilities won him distinguished honors, and a pension for his support at the University. The name of this youth is still preserved at Jesus College, OxfordROGER WILLIAMS. It will ever be preserved in the records of the great statesmen of the world, of the great Lights of Religious Liberty, and above all of those whose names are written in heaven. It is wonderful, as Bancroft has said, with what distinctness Roger Williams deduced his inferences, the readiness with which he accepted every fair inference from his doctrines, and the circumspection with which he repelled every unjust imputation. Even Oliver Cromwell, Englands great Protector, and one less disposed to persecute than the Prelatists, or Puritans, of his day, developed not, in his whole course of government, one principle or practice of half the value of this to the world. Indeed, he claimed the right, as head of the State, to persecute Roman Catholics and Episcopalians, and even to examine every minister as to his call to preach. To the honor of first proclaiming religious freedom to the world by law, Archbishop Hughes has preferred this claim in behalf of the Roman Catho- lic proprietor of Maryland, Lord Baltimore. But with what prepQsterous injustice this claim is urged, let facts show. It is said that, as early as 1632, he had recognized a general religious toleration. But where is the proof of it in any authentic shape before 1648? Not in the Charter certain- ly, which contains no single hint of any toleration in religion not vouchsafed by the laws of England. But, on the other hand, places of worship, it is provided, are to be consecrated according to the ecclesiastical law of Eng- land, and all laws were to be so far as conveniently might be, consonant to the laws of England, which would, of course, have force until others were enacted. The most which can be pretended, therefore, is, that the desire and intention to extend this toleration resided in the breast. of Lord Balti- more, although he had not the power to give it the force of legal enact- ment. But we have seen that, so far as this was concerned, twenty-one years before this time, the Baptists in London had published to the world far more noble sentiments in favor of religious freedom. Roger Williams had probably uttered far higher principles two years before; and for centu- ries and centuries the Waldenses had protested against the Roman Catholic Church for her opposition to all these very principles, and had maintained the doctrine of religious freedom far more thoroughly and fairly than Lord Baltimore ever dreamed of. But it was not until 1649 that this toleration was duly enacted. In what way, then, can it be pretended that the Roman Catholic has precedence of the Baptist as to dates? In 1630, Roger Williams commenced to preach in favor of religious liberty; and in 1686, having purchased territory from the Indians, commenced to found a colony on the express principle of perfect religious liberty. In 1638, others having joined, and purchased the terri- tory of the present State of Rhode-Island, a voluntary government was for- mally instituted by a solemn covenant of all to submit to the orders of the major part in civil thin~vs only. Thus was a constitution formed on the ex- press basis of a perfect liberty of conscience. It is true that it was not until 1644 that Roger Williams obtained his Charter from the king. This was not sought, even then, because he deemed it necessary, but only expedient, as a means of preventing the encroachments of the colony of Massachusetts. This Charter was obtained, and solemnly accepted and adopted by the in- habitants, in 1647; and on the 10th of May, in that year, a body of laws 1856.] The Pro~re& s of Bc~ptist Princiyle~. was enacted, and the government further settled upon the principle of per- fect religious liberty. Even this last was about two years previous to any enactment in favor of toleration afterward established in Maryland. A more vital point, however, than one of dates remains to be considered. The very word toleration implies a right to persecute; and how far was immunity in this case to extend? When first, in 1649, it took the form of law, while allowing genera.l religious liberty to others, it denounced death, with forfeiture of goods, against all who should deny the Godhead of any of the three persons of the Trinity, and fine, whipping, and banishment, against all who should utter any reproachful words or speeches respecting the Virgin Mary, it was expressly declared that the Roman Catholic Church should have all its rights and privileges, and that, in particular, no Roman Catholic should be molested. In fact, it was a mere plan to include Papists in a religious liberty just broad enough to shield them from the persecutions of the Puritans, but no broader. Instead of equitable terms of citizenship, it would have put to death such men as Dr. Channing and Edward Everett; and even Robert Hall, for the opinions of his earlier years. These laws were never repealed, and only superseded a few years ago by the adoption of a new Constitution. They probably remain the law to this day in the Dis- trict of Columbia. Lord Baltimore was, indeed, no bigot, and far in advance of most of his own sect and age. But a claim like that put forth by Archbishop Hughes manifests a degree of effrontery rarely equalled. It will not be forgotten that just before the Revolution of 1688, James II. attempted a system of tolera- tion of exactly this very character, merely to smuggle in the Catholics, and throw England back again into the arms of the Catholic Church. The treachery was discovered, and James II. lost his throne soon gfter,none con- sidering religious liberty safe. Down to the period ~f the American Revolution, all the other colonies probably, except Rhode-Island and Pennsylvania, had more or less of an established Church, and therefore religious persecution. The above is a rapid sketch of the history of religious liberty, prior to the last hundred years. It was essentially a Baptist principle, derived by them, and by them alone, from their views of church-membership. It was first introduced by Roger Williams into the registered principles of actual states- inanship. In all this he was the precursor of Milton, and the superior of Oliver Cromwell and Jeremy Taylor. Bancroft has still further justly said: If Copernicus is held in perpetual reverence, because on his death-bed he published to the world that the sun is the centre of our systemif the name of Kepler is preserved in the annals of human excellence for his sagacity in detecting the laws of planetary motionif the genius of Newton has been almost adored for dissecting a ray of light, and weighing the heavenly bodies in a balance,. let there be for the name of Roger Williams at least some hum- ble place among those who have advanced moral science, and made them- selves the benefactors of mankind. What has given these United States such perfect religious liberty as all enjoy? Beyond all question, the successful working of the principles of a free conscience in Rhode-Island and Pennsylvania. Massachusetts beside the one and Virginia beside the other, fined, imprisoned, and maltreated in various ways, by law, for conscience7 sake. Yet it was not found to render the people more religious. On the contrary, it alienated the minds of some of the best citizens from each other and from the State, and two of the most orderly, religious, and pleasant cities to reside in, even to this day, are Pro- 166 fIi14e Progre8s of Bc~p~i8t Princiy7es. [Feb., vidence and Philadelphia, one being at the time of the Revolution the largest city of the Union, the other probably the wealthiest in proportion to its size. Hence, when a struggle came which called for the most perfect union and strength of every colony individually, and of the whole collectively, the only course was to discontinue every occasion of dissension and alienation, by allowing a perfect freedom of religious opinions. One immediate occasion of bringing all these principles into action was the persecution and estrangement produced by the Established religion in Virginia, preparing and uniting the public mind, to no small degree, in such a manner as to precipitate the American Revolution. The magistrates and aristocratic friends of the Established Church felt their danger, and imprisoned all the more zealous Baptist preachers on whom they could lay hands. This only raised their popularity with the common people, until at length it became a saying of their enemies, that it was useless to incarcerate the Baptists, as they would only preach more successfully from the prison-windows. At the beginning of the Revolutionary War all persecution for religious opinions was for ever blotted from the statute-books, and almost by the end of that struggle, the last vestige of the union of Church and State, or the compulsory support of religion, was, chiefly through the influence of the Baptists, abolished, in this the most populous and influential State of that time. Jefferson, who, though a free-thinker, had studied carefully the principles of the Baptists, took the lead, and carried them through. The first Continental Congress ever held was in 1774, in Philadelphia, two years before the Declaration of Independence. It had not been in ses- sion ten days before these committees, as representatives of the denomina- tion, memorialized Congress that they united with their country in defense of its privileges, and besought them to secure at once the recognition of the inalienalde rights of conscience. Committees were appointed, and the whole subject was discussed with much earnestness. Accordingly the Baptists memorialized the next session of the Massachu- setts Legislature, 1775. In doing so they said: Our real grievances are, that we, as well as our fathers, have from time to time been taxed on reli- gious accounts where we were not represented, and our causes have been tried by interested judges. For a civil Legislature to impose religious tares, 8, we ct?ncvive, a power which their constituents never had to give, and there- fore going entirely out of their jurisdiction. We are persuaded that an en- tire freedom from being taxed by civil rulers to religious worship is not a mere favor from any man or men in the world, but a right and property granted us by God, who commands us to stand fast in it. We should wrong our consciences by allowing that power to men which we believe belongs only to God. By the time of the close of the war of Independence, the principles of re- ligious liberty had become almost nationaL In 1787 the act for the govern- ment of the North-west Territory provided that no person should ever be molested on account of his mode of worship or religious sentiment in the said Territory. Nothing, however, had been done by Congress to secure religious liberty elsewhere. In August~ 1789, therefore, a Committee of the Baptist Churches in Virginia presented an address to General Washing- ton wherein they expressed a high regard for him, but a fear that our re- ligious rights were not well secured in our new constitution of government. In answer to this he assured them of his readiness to use his influence to wake these rights indisputable, declaring that the religious society of which 1856.] .Tke Progres8 of Baptist Princ~ples. 167 they were members had been throughout America uniformly the perse- vering promoters of the glorious Revolution. In the following month, accordingly, an amendment to the Constitution was passed, declaring that Congress should make no law respecting any establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. This Professor Curtis claims to be the true history of the steps by which the right to worship God according to the dic- tates of our own consciences was secured to American citizens. He claims it as the distinctive honor of his denomination, that they led always in the work. He very frankly and fairly accords to other denominations all the merit of their good acts in this direction, but he claims for his own the distinction of having been the standard-bearer in the war waged from the days of Constantine the Great to the days of iRoger Williams. If this be trueand his historical references are before the public and open to controversy if not exacthe appears to show that the cardinal principles of Democratic Republicanism have sustained his people against Popes, Emperors, Councils, and Consistories, and at last found their full religious development in the United States, as a rule of relationship between civil and religious affairs; and their political development in the principles of Thomas Jefferson and Andrew Jackson. It is a bold claim at any rate; and if substantiated, the most glorious one ever made by a Christian Church. 168 chron,icle of the Afonth. [Feb., CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. FOREIG2~r. ENGLAND.That dear Bull, or rather that dear Bulls Headthe Imperial Government of Great Britain, Canada, the East-Indies and Southern Sebas- topol, does not appear to have committed any more than its usual amount of betises duxing the month of January. England reminds us of the man who was born of a Sunday, and of all the mishaps in the world, of a Sunday which fell on the 29th day of February, which being bissextile, the poor fellows birth-day came only once in four years, and so he never came of age until he was eighty-four. She is always four years behind the age, and pottering and drivelling away at some old fogy, old-world nonsense which has been, full three of those years, exploded in every other quarter of the globe. Father Miller himself could not hurry up her millennium. She would sink, and bury herself in the salt ooze around her foggy little island, with all the ascension robes of all his disciples, male and female, made into a balloon to bear her up. ... Just think of it. We were flooded with lies on this side of the herring-pond gross as the hither who begat them sd est, the London Timesabout Russia.and the Czar. Russia was used up, Russia was bankrupt; her population decimated; trade stopped; peo- ple starving; Czar going crazy; nobility disaffected; serfs rebelliousevery thing in Russia was in fact gone quite to the dogsand nothing kept her from being knocked into pi, or falling all apart into little bits, but the winter and the ice. Soon as spring came, and a great thawthat was the last of her. So the London Times said. So veracious members of Parliament said. So some body said Mr. Gladstone said that Cupid Palmerston said; but who he said it to no body said. Yankeedom grew somewhat fatigued with this standing joke of the gentlemen about St. Jamess, and Printing-House Square, and Downing street, and rather guessed it would be a leetle more satisfactory to have the evidence of a pair or so of Yankee eyes, or Yankee ears, before the universal Yankee nation accepted the whole thing as gospel. So Col. T. P. Shaffner ran over to take a look at matters and things in Rus- sia; and when he got there it fell out that for the life of him he could not discover a single thing of all the things veraciously reported by the London press. Tout au contraireno body seemed a bit disturbed, or frightened, at the redoubtable Englishmen, who didnt carry the Malakofi. The Czar was very well in his mind, and ate with an appetite. The nobles were not turned to ninepences. The serfs were eager to go and play soldier. Every body had more money than they knew what to do with; and no body

Chronicle of the Month 168-175

168 chron,icle of the Afonth. [Feb., CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. FOREIG2~r. ENGLAND.That dear Bull, or rather that dear Bulls Headthe Imperial Government of Great Britain, Canada, the East-Indies and Southern Sebas- topol, does not appear to have committed any more than its usual amount of betises duxing the month of January. England reminds us of the man who was born of a Sunday, and of all the mishaps in the world, of a Sunday which fell on the 29th day of February, which being bissextile, the poor fellows birth-day came only once in four years, and so he never came of age until he was eighty-four. She is always four years behind the age, and pottering and drivelling away at some old fogy, old-world nonsense which has been, full three of those years, exploded in every other quarter of the globe. Father Miller himself could not hurry up her millennium. She would sink, and bury herself in the salt ooze around her foggy little island, with all the ascension robes of all his disciples, male and female, made into a balloon to bear her up. ... Just think of it. We were flooded with lies on this side of the herring-pond gross as the hither who begat them sd est, the London Timesabout Russia.and the Czar. Russia was used up, Russia was bankrupt; her population decimated; trade stopped; peo- ple starving; Czar going crazy; nobility disaffected; serfs rebelliousevery thing in Russia was in fact gone quite to the dogsand nothing kept her from being knocked into pi, or falling all apart into little bits, but the winter and the ice. Soon as spring came, and a great thawthat was the last of her. So the London Times said. So veracious members of Parliament said. So some body said Mr. Gladstone said that Cupid Palmerston said; but who he said it to no body said. Yankeedom grew somewhat fatigued with this standing joke of the gentlemen about St. Jamess, and Printing-House Square, and Downing street, and rather guessed it would be a leetle more satisfactory to have the evidence of a pair or so of Yankee eyes, or Yankee ears, before the universal Yankee nation accepted the whole thing as gospel. So Col. T. P. Shaffner ran over to take a look at matters and things in Rus- sia; and when he got there it fell out that for the life of him he could not discover a single thing of all the things veraciously reported by the London press. Tout au contraireno body seemed a bit disturbed, or frightened, at the redoubtable Englishmen, who didnt carry the Malakofi. The Czar was very well in his mind, and ate with an appetite. The nobles were not turned to ninepences. The serfs were eager to go and play soldier. Every body had more money than they knew what to do with; and no body 1856.] Chronicle of the Ilfontk. 169 cared whether it thawed or not. The Colonel came right home and let the cat out of the bag. Wicked Colonel, to do such a thing, and nearly split the Thunderers sides with cursing, and Yankeedoms with laughing. Col. T. P. Shaffner, you are a bad fellow. Why couldnt you leave John Bull quiet in his conceit? It didnt hurt you, did it? We all knew what fan- tastical fibs he was telling; but we knew why he did it. It was to salve his conscience and his pride for taking to his heels, down in the Crimea there, and leaving poor Jean Crapaud to get all the glory and bard knocks. Just see the mischief you have been and gone and done, sir. And have a sharp eye for yourself too, sir., You have waked up the Thunderer. He is enrage.~~ He foams at the mouth. Dont let him catch you on his cellar-door; or playing chanies in his area, my military friend, unless your back is covered with Russia leather. Just listen to him a minute, and you will see what sort of fun you have to expect from him. Quoth the aroused Titan: Ferdinand Mendez Pinto was a weakling by the side of Gel. Tat P. Shaffner. It is a pity that his account or the Russian empire has not been accompanied by a full-length portrait of the illustrious traveller., We should have liked to see the very figure of that keen and sallow Yankee as he actually crouched in the full filth of a Russian hut, and, while he assiduously whittled away at some convenient piece of timber, resolved with himself the best means of pouring a roseate splen dor over that uncomfortable scene. How far he has succeeded it must be for his readers to decide. If our Colonel does not send Boanerges a lock of his hair, as a small mark of his kind regards, he shall never more be officer of ours. Of course, a Yankees coloring Russia red, bleaches the stain of defeat from the cheek of Brittania. Of course, a Yankees spitting tobacco-juice, takes off all that is foolish from the Thunderers spitting its harmless venom against the walls of Cronstadt and North-Sebastopot Of course, a Yankees whit- tling a shingle supersedes the necessity of Englands retrieving her lost honor by cutting through the war-like host of Holy Russia. Certainly a full-length portrait of Col. Shaffner would be a prettier sight, than the poor daub of war she has hung up this time, in her national gallery! Send the picture by all means, Colonel. But with superior cruelty, and to add that last straw, beneath which the camels back gives way, Colonel Robertsanother Yankee colonela real colonela fire-eating colonel, who led, if we mistake not, the most des- perate storming party of modern times over the ramparts of Chepultepec sits down and quietly points out all uncle Johns ridiculous blunders in the Crimea. And our second colonel talks to them Yankee fashion. Where, he asks, Where were the British reserves, that should have been launched as a thun- derbolt upon the Redan when Cot Wyndhams stormers had gained the curtain and effected an escalade? He was one hour and three quarters in the works of the Jiedan, and three times sent for support. Where was the General commanding at this crisis? When these stormers were driven back, the British army became a 12 [Feb., 170 Chronicle of tke JLlicrnth. forlorn hopeits commander the leader. The duty of every Englishman was then to save Englands glory, or to fill an English soldiers grave. But not even half of the stormers wero killed or disabled! Their General reports them as retreatin,~,! Great God! what a confession from an English general! Stormers retreat! Storm- ers dead bodies may fill the ditches and heap the breaches over which the reserves may rush to the citadel. This is the inexorable law of war I To retreat is the stormers act of outlawry, and an armys disgrace. The five hundred Spartans who defended the pass of Thermopyke, eternalized a nations name. All but one made it their sepulchrethat one was disowned by the Spartan mother! Yet England, claiming to be the Mother of Heroes, praises Eng- lishmen who retreated from the Itedan! The English mother has t~een prostituted by this revolting alliance with polygamous Turkey; and the unnatural embrace has adulterated Anglo-Saxon blood. Spartan valor has been the talisman of the brave since Thermopyke was immortalized. The retreat from the Redan has not Spar. tanized English fame, or Thermopylized that pass into SebastopoL Softly, Colonel, softly! You are not talking to great two-fisted, six.foot, dare.devil Yankees, who would poke their heads into Tophet to see whether Satan burned anthracite or butiminous coaL Nothing of the sort. You are talking to an inferior race; men caned and padded into soldiers; poor fellows crimped from parish work.houses, and inveigled away from tailors shop- boards, and man.millineries. The race of English soldiers is extinct. Red tape and elder sons of Lords, Rich in some dozen paltry villages Only great in that strange spella name! have murdered them all on useless battle-fields by incompetent leading! The heart of England is a good, frank, honest heart. Real Englishmen are noble, downrighL, true men. They are brave by instinct. We love the race. We believe in it, and honor it. God has honored it and blessed it. But England does not belong to Englishmen now-a-days. It is pawned to my Lord Tom Noddy, the Earls son. It is bound by the Delilah of Aristo- cracy, and shorn of the glory of its strong locks, handed over naked to its enemies. God forbid that any word of ours should pain one honest English heart of all the throbbing thousands that would shed their dearest blood for mans redemption from that hideous night-mare of caste and privilege, beneath the banner of a second Cromwell I When shall such a hero live again? No, Colonel, we have no fault to find with the English people, save only with their too patient submission and long suffering. They are com- petent to better things. Why will they not find it out? Take your banner, and, beneath The war-clouds encircling wreath, Guard it till your homes are free: Guard itGod will prosper ye! Break the fetters of red-tape which bind you. Prove yourselves the men of the same temper as those Who planted English freedom on American soil. Carry English honesty, and faith, and frankness into English government and we Americans have hearts to throb with sympathy and love for all you do, or dare, or suffer. Do it soon too; for your government of aristocracy, 1856.] Chronicle of the iJiouth. 171 animated by an insane hatred of every thing which bears the image and su- perscription of Freedom, isfast hurrying you into a conflict with these States. They are backing and filling, and playing or attempting to play upon us, their tortuous game of diplomatic thimble-rigging. Stop them whilst you may. Take the matter into English hands. Take it from the dear cousins of every two-penny German Highness and Princewhose dominions would not make a respectable mud-flat in the Mississippi; and compel the sentiment of Englands heart to be uttered by the voice of Englands serv- ants. They are false to you. They are scheming to entangle you, and sow bitterness and hatred between men of the same stock and interest. Gov- ern your governors while it is well with you. We can not either of us afford to make the match. War is ruin to us both. But, if we must go into the ringremember it will be for the championship this time; and the belt which England might lose to America to-day, no future battle could retrieve. Our expansion into greatness is dailyour limits boundless. The old age of a people circumscribed, and bound in straitly by narrow geogra- phical limits, can not be pitted, without madness, against the youth of one whose reach stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the land of ice and snow to the gardens of the tropics! The fortune of. a single war may strike the hour of Englands decadencean hundred wars could not stay the march of America. She might lose battles, and ships, and men and money.she has plenty to lose. She can afford to lose them in a good cause. Can England? Let the Crimeas thousand shallow graves give answer. And for the state of England generally, let our dear friend and ally, the London Times, tell its story: The great British nation is beginning, at last, to be conscious not only of some natural deficiencies, but even a temporary obscuration of its powers. We have some good painters, though even they are finding their matches abroad; but for the restlet us see I We want a Heaven-sent General, [a slur upon General Simp- son.] We want a poet, [a fling at Tennyson.] We want a good historiannot a brilliant essayist, [a sneer at Macaulay,] but a man who can write a compendious and classical history of England, or any other history. We want some endurable sermons, [a sarcasm launched at the whole body of the British clergy.] If the pulpit just now has no luminaries to mention, on the other hand the stage is not in its palmiest state. There died lately in great distress a man who could compose some original airs; but this moment it can not be pretended that we have a single composer of extraordinary genius. Going lower, into those homely regions where Prince Albert loves to succor and elevate the soul of British artin furniture, paper-hangings, iron-work, china, and almost every thing that contributes to the decoration of our houses, we are still beaten by foreigners. Apropos of Birming- ham, within these few years two splendid mansions have been built in Piccadilly, by millionaires, both with costly iron railingsthe one, however from abroad, the other evidently from some home foundry. The foreign railing is a work of art, the other is an iron railing and no more. Q. E. D. Upon which showing, being naturally enough disgusted with the state of that people; we will take the boat for Calais, or Boulogne, and cross over to Ia Belle FaA~cEwhose Emperor, like a famous French king who went before Chronicle of the JiLonth. 172 [Feb., him, having marched forty thousand men first up the hill, then down again, in the slightly inaccurate expectation that Gen. Simpson would follow him to the top, and help him to a peep at the inside of holy Russia, begins to get a little grouty. Wise folk say that rather too much Cayenne has mingled with the enteinte cordiale soup, which the allied powers have been so lovingly eating with the same spoon; and that, like the Indian who got the mustard up his nose, his Imperial Highness begins to think of his uncle and weep. It is whispered that a French Emperor, elected by the people, is as little loved by English gentlemen, whose forbears were inscribed on Battle Abbey roll, as an American President is. Let us wait a little and see. We do not think the world would be much the worse for some plain talking between those high contracting powers. When the rogues fall out some honest Italians, and Poles, and Hungarians may, per- haps, come by their own. Which probable misunderstanding brings us, of course, to the place about which no body seems to understand any thing at all, that is, to NIcARAGUA.TO promote a better knowledge whereog we shall offer, in the first place, the following description of the country, which we have ob- tained at no end of expense and trouble, from a very dear friend of ours, and great traveller, the Count IDe Sissers: On the west it is washed by the Pacific Ocean, and partly on the east by the waters of the Caribbean Sea, the Mosquito Territory forming a large share of its eastern boundary. Honduras borders it on the north, and Costa Rica on the south. Its area is about forty-nine thousand square miles, and the population is estimated at two hundred and forty-seven thousand. The females are said to greatly exceed the males ia number. Not more than twenty thousand of the people are whites, the rest being negroes, Indians, and mixed races. Most of t~he population live in towns, many of them going several miles daily to labor in the fields. The planta- tions are scattered pretty equally over the country, and are reached by paths so obscure as to almost escape the notice of travellers, who are thus liable to fall into the error of supposing that the country is almost uninhabited. The dwellings of the people are usually of canes, thatched with palm, although the better classes construct their residences of adobes, (sun-dried brick,) and by the help of fruit and shade trees, planted in the court-yard, render many of them exceedingly pleasant. A range of mountains extends along the west coast of the State, at a distance of a few miles from the sea, but attaining no great elevation until they approach the con- fines of Costa Ricar when they reach the height of five to eleven thousand feet. In the central part of the State is an immense level tract, known as the plains of Ni- caragua, comprising in its area the lake of that name. Numerous volcanoes exist alone the Pacific coast. There are a considerable number of rivers, but none of them, except the San Juan, are navigable in a commercial sense. Veins of copper and silver ore of exceeding richness are found in many parts, but they remain almost all of them either unexplored or only superficially worked. Gold, also, is said to exist. The climate is healthy, though various. In the interior and mountainous parts the temperature is more dry and cool than on the coast, where it is hot and approaching to humid. The greater portion of the State consist of plains and gen- tie siopes formed of a rich black loam, of which but a small portion is made avail- able. The productions are indigo, sugar, coffee, cotton of superior quality, corn, rice, wheat, etc., besides oranges, lemons, and fruits of various kinds. The great ISoG.] GLonicie of tke iJfontlt. 1~3 bane of the country has been its civil wars, and it was one of these which enabled Ccl. Walker to achieve his almost bloodless conquest. Not a bad bonne bouche, as may be seen, for a hungry gentleman; and many hungry gentlemen who, having spent their substance in riotous liv- ing, prefer tortillas, frijioles, roast lamb, and pretty women to the hu~ks which swine do eat. It is a pity that good faith has compelled our Government to delay the adventurous youths who, under the patronage of Col. Parker H. French, are so anxious to enter in and possess the~land. Let them, however, possess their souls in patience. Unless the Cabinet of St. James acts with better faith than has heretofore distinguished them in re- gard to Central American affairs, the embargo may not be of long duration. And all this being intimately connected with our DOME S TIC concerns, we turn our eyes with great pleasure homewards. Here two sub- jects have engrossed the attention of all for the past month. The organization of Congress, and the Presidents Message. If the latter had not happily come before the former, we should hav& to go to press again ignorant of its contents, as the types will not wait for the patriotic gentlemen at Washing- ton to finish their triangular dueL The message is clear, able, and to the point. It has the additional merit of being short enough to read in an ordinary life-time, a peculiarity many similar documents can not boast of. The Message was sent in on the 31st of December. The opposition press made some little noise, as was to be expected, over this departure from cus- tom; but the President, we think, very properly decided that custom and the Constitution were two very different things; and that no constitutional provision enjoining upon him to wait the election of a Speaker by the House of Representatives, and a constitutional provision very strictly enjoining the duty of communicating, from time to time, to that formerly respectable body, whatever important information, touching the welfare of the country, he might have to conveyit was clearly his right to choose his own time, cus- tom or no custom. He repudiates the English construction of the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty, as purely absurda conclusion in which all sane men agree with himour equitable friend, John Bull, simply claiming the right to keep all he has and get all he can; and politely requesting the United States to content them- selves with the little end of nothing whittled small. By the terms of the treaty it was stipulated that neither power should colonize or acquire do- minion, or exert a protectorate over Central America. Great Britain inter- prets this to mean, that she shall colonize, acquire, and control; aRd the United States shall not. This her Majestys ministers call a fair division. It reminds us of the equal division which Mrs. OFlaherty made of the house with Mr. OFlaherty. She kept the inside, and gave him the out. On the attempt to enlist Americans in foreign services, the Message says, 174 Chronicle of the illonth. [Feb., that proper steps have been taken to prevent such violation of ourneutrality; and that Great Britain, on our remonstrances has asserted that she has given stringent instructions against it to her agents. Quien SabeShe did the same in 1812if her ministers were to be believed; but Free Trade and Sailors rights had to be enforced after all by the remonstrances of shot and shell, and the stringent instructions of Yankee rifles. Perhaps she has better sense now. We are not quite sure of it, however. On the Danish Sound Dues the message is fifty-four forty or fight. The American people may be found in the same latitude. On the Spanish difficulties it is not qiiite so clear, and scarcely as belli- gerent as circumstances warrant. The President has reason t~ believe that Spain means to do what is right; to pay up the indemnities due for outrages to our flag; to afford increased mercantile facilities; and behave pretty generally. We wish we believed half as much; but we dont. Spain is a worn-out bully; and very little is to be got out of that sort of character by soft sawder. When she must, she will; and not sooner. The balance on hand at the beginning of the present fiscal year, was $lS,931,976a very natural result of Democratic rule. The Democracy always have ~ balance on hand. Whenever the people go crazy, and turn them out for four years, their opponents take such excellent pains to get rid of their legacy, that the said people are compelled to clap them back in a hurry to save the pieces, and prevent national bankruptcy. How the said people can be stupid enough ever to make such a mistake, as to give any set of political swindlers the chance of squandering what Democratic admin- istration~ lay up for them, is one of the mysteries in psychology we have never fathomed. About Kansas it tells a little plain truth, namely, that there is no danger therethat the federal executive has seen no just cause for its interference-.-- that the people are able to govern themselves; and all the noise of the opposition a mere concert of dogs baying the moon. The message winds up with a manly and open declaration of State rights; and a concise statement of the position of the President and the Democratic party in opposition to all unconstitutional interference with them. Take it altogether, it is a document honorable to its author, and entirely satisfactory to the national Demoeracy both North and South. Its universal dissemination renders a more extended synopsis, on our part, unnecessary. NEW-YORKGOv. Clark, of that State, has written a message. It is not known whether Gov. Clark was ever connected with Punchit is more probable, however, that he is the mysterious editor of Young America. We have heard it whispered so; but our faith in the report is much shaken by the fact that the Governors jokes are altogether superior to the staple commodity of the latter publication. His message is one huge joke. It runs over with fan. It glitters with coruscations of wit. It bursts out all over with broad grins. It riots in Pantagruelian pleasantries. The Whig 1856.] KUSiC. 175 party livesin the Cosernors Message. The Maine Liquor Law works well in the interiorqf the Message. The State of New-York is satisfied with their Governorin the Yessage. The canals are completedin the Miessage. There is no deficiency in the funds of the State; no dissensions; no diversity of opinion Know-Nothingin the Message. Blessed St. Angelo, what isnt there in that Message? But what, above all, strikes us with an undying admiration, is the good mans piety, and evident modest self-appreciation in his concluding prayer, namely: In the name of the ProphetFigs ! MU SI C. OUR domestic chronicle of musical matters for the past month is somewhat arid. Old Boreas has been amusing our ears with a mighty variety of sharp airs, and playing his North wind as first blower pretty nearly every night. His confidence in the endurance of his orchestra and the robustness of his art- ists, has fairly driven the smooth Italians from the field. Those dainty song. sters of the sunny south have folded their tents, like the Arabs, and silently stolen away. Like a writer who always keeps his best sentence for the last, they gave Don Giovanni as their parting gift. A crowd, of course, snapped their fingers at Boreas, and filled the house as it had not been filled on any previous night of the season. The immortal old opera was well played musically, we meanand every body was pleased. The second concert (fourteenth season) of the highly-prosperous Philhar- monic Society came off on Saturday, January 12, in Niblos Theatre. And such a jam sure neer was seen. Not that we never saw theatre so full before, but never was place so full of youthful beauty. Nowhere in the worldyes, we say it advisedlynowhere in the world beside, do you ever see such a collection of glancing eyes, pearly teeth, ruby lips, and all the charms that disturb bachelors repose. The wonderful prosperity of the Society is a remark in every bodys mouth; and we, with many others, have drawn the inference, that these full attendances were owing to the admirable performances of the Society, and have congratulated ourselves, our city and country, on the wonderful increase in genuine musical taste which all this indicated. Upon closer scanning, however, of our weaknesses, we are com- pelled to admit that our attendance, if not wholly procured, is rendered more inexorably punctual by what we expect to see as well as hear. Take the beauties from Heaths Book for the last twenty years, from Findens Galleries, Wreaths, Amaranths, and all the other receptacles for art- ists conception of female loveliness, add about one hundred faces such as no English limner has ever yet traced, and you will have a few of the other

Music 175-176B

1856.] KUSiC. 175 party livesin the Cosernors Message. The Maine Liquor Law works well in the interiorqf the Message. The State of New-York is satisfied with their Governorin the Yessage. The canals are completedin the Miessage. There is no deficiency in the funds of the State; no dissensions; no diversity of opinion Know-Nothingin the Message. Blessed St. Angelo, what isnt there in that Message? But what, above all, strikes us with an undying admiration, is the good mans piety, and evident modest self-appreciation in his concluding prayer, namely: In the name of the ProphetFigs ! MU SI C. OUR domestic chronicle of musical matters for the past month is somewhat arid. Old Boreas has been amusing our ears with a mighty variety of sharp airs, and playing his North wind as first blower pretty nearly every night. His confidence in the endurance of his orchestra and the robustness of his art- ists, has fairly driven the smooth Italians from the field. Those dainty song. sters of the sunny south have folded their tents, like the Arabs, and silently stolen away. Like a writer who always keeps his best sentence for the last, they gave Don Giovanni as their parting gift. A crowd, of course, snapped their fingers at Boreas, and filled the house as it had not been filled on any previous night of the season. The immortal old opera was well played musically, we meanand every body was pleased. The second concert (fourteenth season) of the highly-prosperous Philhar- monic Society came off on Saturday, January 12, in Niblos Theatre. And such a jam sure neer was seen. Not that we never saw theatre so full before, but never was place so full of youthful beauty. Nowhere in the worldyes, we say it advisedlynowhere in the world beside, do you ever see such a collection of glancing eyes, pearly teeth, ruby lips, and all the charms that disturb bachelors repose. The wonderful prosperity of the Society is a remark in every bodys mouth; and we, with many others, have drawn the inference, that these full attendances were owing to the admirable performances of the Society, and have congratulated ourselves, our city and country, on the wonderful increase in genuine musical taste which all this indicated. Upon closer scanning, however, of our weaknesses, we are com- pelled to admit that our attendance, if not wholly procured, is rendered more inexorably punctual by what we expect to see as well as hear. Take the beauties from Heaths Book for the last twenty years, from Findens Galleries, Wreaths, Amaranths, and all the other receptacles for art- ists conception of female loveliness, add about one hundred faces such as no English limner has ever yet traced, and you will have a few of the other 176 Music. [Feb., 1856. reasons why the Philharmonic Society is so very prosperous. Yes, my worthy old friendold before your timeyou may smile incredulous, with that hard mouth of yours, and look villainously cynical and contemptuous out of tho~e eyes, all puckered at the corners with too intent study of certain interesting pictures that come fifty-two to the pack: but if you had been there, and when you went back to the club, didnt lose your first rubber, why, all we can say is, that twenty years of club-life is even worse than we thought it was. Our Philharmonic Society must take care, though, if they wish to preserve their prosperity. We really believe that many, if not most of those fair young faces, have ears attached to them which appreciate good music. Now, we dont really think that the symphony by Gade, or the overture by Berlioz, which were played on the evening we are writing about, can be fairly considered good musicat least, not good for very young people, whose taste has not yet been palled by Beethoven and Mozart. It is a mis- take which old musiciansnot composers, but performerswill be very apt to fall into, to imagine that what interests them will, or ought to, interest an audience. Novel effects, wonderful exhibitions of the capacities of the orchestra, ingenious handling of the subject, elaborate harmonies, new com- binations, very great learningall these interest and please professors; and all these were to be found in the Symphony in C minor of the Dane, and the Francs Juges of the Frenchman. And all those make good music, just in the same sense that Lindley Murrays Grammar, Johnsons Diction- ary, and Whateleys Rhetoric, made Dickens description of the death of Little Nell. There was something wanting, several things, in factfor neither of those compositions displayed any melodic inventionbut the great want wasgenius. Now, we respectfully submit to the Philharmonic direc- tion the propriety of their giving us Beethoven and Mozart, varied with a good deal of Von Weber, and some Mendelssohn and Spohr, until we young- sters get tired of them, and when we do we will give them notice, and ask for learned works. How delightfully Euryanthe came in at the end of the concert, to refresh our weary spirits with a little of the true gold! We almost were inclined to think Von Weber, from hearing him under such cir- cumstances, the greatest composer of the world. Indeed, Verdi and Merca- dante came out strong in such company, with Badiali for interpreter. Badiali, take him for all in allpower and quality of voice, purity of into- nation, perfection of method, true passionate expression, is simply the best singer we ever heard. We make no exception in favor of any man or wo- man; tenor, soprano, or contralto; Mario, Jenny Lind, Grisi, or Alboni; take him for all in all, he is our Magnus Apollo, the best singer, the most perfect artist we ever heard. The orchestra played as well as usual, and did their best for Messrs. Gade and Berlioz. /

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The United States Democratic review. / Volume 37, Issue 3 United States magazine, and Democratic review Democratic review United States review J.& H.G. Langley, etc. New York, etc. March 1856 0037 003
J. G. G., J. The Union - The Dangers Which Beset It. Number Three 177-188

T HE: UNITED STATES DEMOC1~ATJc REVIEW. M A R C II, 1 8 5 6. THE UNIONTEE DANGERS WHICH BESET IP~ NUMBER ThREE. IN our last number we referred to the fact, that slavery, ro. ligious bigotry, and native prejudices, were the three agitating subjects which were shaking the American Union to its cent tre, with a violence that threatened to break it to pieces. In the conclusion of that article we intimated our purpose to ex~ amine those questions, in their political aspect, and we now proceed to execute that purpose, not with a view to discuss it as a moral or religious question, but simply as a subject of controversy between the slaveholding and non-slaveholding States. From the intense excitement which now rages in some of the non-slaveholding States upon this subject, one would suppose that this institution had been recently established. One who had never read history, sacred or profane, who hears the babbling~, vociferations, and denunciations of Northern fana~ tics, would riot for a moment suppose that domestic slavery ever existed in any country but this, or in any other age of the world. Yet, he who is familiar with sacred or profane history can not but know that, in diversified forms1 I thai 13 178 The Uhiom the Da~iger8 which becet it. [March, existed from the patriarchal ages down to the present time, and that too, amongst the most civilized nations, and most Christian people, on every continent of the globe. Why this has been so, or why Heaven in its inscrutable wisdom, has permitted it to be so, it is not for mortals to determine. The Deity does not choose to reveal to man the secret purposes of His ~wil1, in all the dispensations of His providence. The system of slavery has not always been, nor is it now entirely of the black man to the white, as it is here, but, of the white man to his fellow. Even now, in many countries, the slavery of the white man to his fellow exists; and the slavery of the black man to the white man exists, under circumstances of greater inhumanity, in several other countries than this. If slavery be the dreadful moral, religious, and political nui- sance, which our Northern abolitionists denounce it to be, why is it that Almighty wisdom, power, and goodness permitted it to exist among the patriarchsamong the Israelitesamong the IRomans and Greeks, and among Christians of all ages and nations? If paganism did not extirpate it, why did not Christ- ianity? When the decalogue was handed down to Moses, for the government of the, people of Israel, slavery existed, and, why, if it had been a sin of so hideous deformity, was it not abolished or prohibited? It existed during the prophetic age, and if it had been so great a sin, why was it not abo- lished by the governments in which it existed? When Christianity, in all its brightness, beneficence, and radiancy, burst upon the world to atone for and rebuke sin, slavery existed, and if it had been a system of such enormity, why is it that neither Christ nor his Apostles rebuked it? The master spirits of abolitionism will search the Scripture history in vain for any denunciation or condemnation of slavery. They may find some general passages, such as Thou shalt do unto others as you would have them do unto you, and by tortured construction, and forced application attempt to make them bear upon the question of slavery, when, at the same time, they know, that when they were uttered by their great Au- thor, they had no reference to it. They know that the Scrip- ture is full of passages recognizing the relation of master and servant, which was the same relation as master and slave here, and which without condemning, prescribes the conduct to be observed from the one to the other according to his position. While these States were colonies of Great Britain, slavery found its way among them, and existed with an exception or two, until the close of the revolution. Yet it was not consi 1856] The Union the Dan~,er8 which l3e8et it. 179 dered so great an evil as to excite any violent effort to abolish it or to prevent the people of the several colonies from mak- ing united efforts to promote their common welfare; nor in fighting side by side the battles of the Revolution, and by common toils, common sufferings achieving their independ- ence. When the Revolution closed, and the independence of the colonies was achieved, slavery still existed in some of the States, yet, it was not considered so contaminating an evil as to prevent the States from forming the articles of confederation for their common defense and general welfare. When the articles of confederation proved inefficient, and the Constitu- tion was formed, slavery then existed in more than half the States, and yet it was not regarded as so damning a sin as to prevent the adoption of that instrument as a corn p act of government for the common defense and general welfare. During this period, and these events, slavery was as odious as it is now, perhaps more objectionable on the score of hu- manity, and the people then were as moral, religious, and as patriotic, at least~ as they are now. It is a conceded fact that at the time of the formation of the Constitution each State was within herself a complete govern- ment, independent of all others, and possessed of every attri- bute of national sovereignty. It must also be conceded, that the federal government acquired no powers but those dele- gated to it by the States, and that such as were not delegated were retained by the States in full and absolute sovereignty. Among those institutions which were regarded as entirely do- mestic, and over which no power was delegated or intended to be delegated to the federal government, was that of slavery. lit was so treated and regarded by nearly the whole Conven- tion. The South would impart, and the North desired no power over it. Slavery was then regarded at the North, as a great moral and social evil, and yet the non-slaveholding States with these feelings and opinions, not regarding them- selves responsible for the supposed evil, did not find in it ob- jections so formidable as to prevent their entering into the compact of the Constitution, to provide for the common de- fense and general welfare. Perhaps the modern fanatics are wiser, more religions and more patriotic than these their fa- thers! The Constitution, then, does not authorize the federal government to interfere or meddle with a single domestic in~ stitution of any State, no more so than if the federal govern- ment did not exist, and among those domestic institutions 180 The Uhiom the Danger8 which be8et it. [March~ with which the federal government is not authorized to inter- fere is that of slavery. That there are many evils attending the relation of master and slave is unquestionable, and we might demand to know, in which of the social relations, even in Christendom, are there no evils more or less? In those of husband and wife; parent and child; master and apprentice; there are evils more or less, which can not be remedied until man is so far revolution- ized and changed in his nature as to become perfectangel instead of man. In the relation of master and slave, there sometimes occur scenes of cruelty and barbarism over which humanity weeps, and so they do in all the other social rela- tions. In the slave States there are laws growing out of that relation, seemingly harsh, but which that relation itself makes necessary, and so of all the other relations. These relations, iii all of which there are legal inequ~lities, grow out of the depravity and frailty of human nature. Rectify and perfect human nature, and at once all these evils will be removed. There is no country, no government, no people, among whom the condition of superior and subordinate does not exist in some form. The world could not get along without it. Some must direct and others execute; some must control and others obey. This is the inevitable result of social organization, and human pursuits. When we look into the condition of the free-laborers of Europe, and of boasting New-England itself; upon the whole, the comparison is favorable to the Southern slave, so far at least as relates to comfort, subsistence, and con- tentment. But, be slavery an evil or a blessing, the free States of the North, above all people, have no right and ought not to med- dle with it. It is here more by their act than that of the peo- ple of the slaveholding States, and it was here when the form of the federal government was adopted. By that compact they solemnly agreed that the federal government should have or exercise no power over the subject of slavery. What exe- cration, then, is not due to the factions of the North erii States, for their incessant, persevering, and violent attempts to bring the powers of the federal government to bear upon this very subject to its entire annihilation, nftcr the slave States, in faith of that very compact, stripped themselves of many of their most valuable powers of sovereignty and commercial advan- tages, and conferred them upon the feJeral government? If slavery be morally, socially, and politically obnoxious to the people of the Northern States, they have rid themselves of 1856.] The Union the Dangers which 6eset it. 181 it, and have the undoubted right to keep themselves rid of it; but neither by the laws of God, of nature, or of nations, have they they the right to coerce the slaveholding States to adopt their thoughts or imitate their example. No more have they the power to coerce the people of the States hereafter to come into the Union to adopt their opinions or imitate their action by pre-legislation. The federal government has no power over the subject, by not only the non-delegation of any such power, but by the avowed retainer of the States; and no State has any power of legislation beyond its own limits. Slavery may be wrong as a moral or religious question; if it be, the slaveholder has offended his God, and his own con- science by it, and to them he is reponsible, and not to the peo- ple of other communities. As a political question they have nothing to do with it. rn10 federal government has no more power, by the Consti- tution, to interfere with the subject of slavery in the Territo- ries than in the States, for the simple reason, that none was delegated to it either as a primary or auxiliary power. By the Constitution, all new States, from whatever quarter they may come, are to be admitted on a footing of equality with the original States. The federal government, then, can not prescribe or restrict, by pro-legislation, any institution pos- sessed by either of the original States, to the future-admitted States. If it can be done as to slavery, it can be done as to any othera proposition too monstrous to be thought of. These territories are not the property of any one State, or any portmn of the - States- they are the common property of all, ac- quired by their common treasure, and the common blood of all their citizens. They are under the protection and guar- dianship of the federal governmentthe common government of all the States, without power to prescribe or dictate any of their domestic institutions. That right belongs to them by the Constitution, and the federal government can not take it from them. How despotic, thenwhat violence does it not do to the Constitution and to the new States, for the federal govern- ment to undertake thus to prescribe to these new States ~vhat shall be the form of their constitutions, or what their domes- tic institutions! Suppose federal legislation should declare that no State south of a given line of latitude should be ad- mitted into the Union without a clause in her constitution, providing for the establishment of slavery? Suppose it were to declare that north of a certain line, no new State should be admitted, that did not proscribe from office or suffrage Roman 182 The Union the Dangers which beset it. [March, Catholics, or Protestants; would any, North or South, say the federal government had power to do so? Suppose, by act of Congress, Slavery, Catholicism, or Protestantism, was prohi- bited in the territoriesand if the federal government has the power to do the one, they have the other, for there is no re- strictionwould the States to be formed out of the territories be bound by it? Would the adoption of a different policy after their admittance, forfeit their fellowship in the Union? No sane man would contend for such an absurdity. The re- sult of all this is, that neither the federal government nor any of the States has any thing to do with the subject of slavery in the territories, and that every attempt to do so, is an ag- gression upon the slave States and the territories. Each State, as to the question of slavery, and every other domestic institution, being sovereign and independent, every act of intermeddling with it, is an act of aggression which would justify war, and war would long ago have resulted had it not been for the federal Union. Is it not shameful that un- der the compact of the Constitution, when the slaveholding States have surrendered so many of their sovereign powers to the federal government, the non-slaveholding States should commit aggressions, which among nations entirely foreign, would be cause of war, and would produce war? They should not tempt the forbearance of the slave States too far. The only power which the Constitution imparted to the federal government, in reference to the subject of slavery, was one growing out of its existence, and not one to establish, pro- hibit, or abolish it anywhere. It is the duty of providing for the rendition of fugitive slaves from one State to another. This is a duty which every State in the Union, by the ratifica- tion of the constititutional compact, solemnly bound itselg in good faith, to perform, and which honestly they could not re- fuse or neglect to perform. For this duty they received an equivalent in the concessions of the slave States to the general interest, and there is no excuse for their refusal either in law or morals. In 1793, the federal government passed an act, presenting the mode of arrest, the manner of trial and the evidence to be produced, to entitle the claimant to the rendition of his slave, but left it to be executed by the State tribunals and officers, supposing that no State, after having accepted and ratified the federal Constitution, would be faithless enough to disregard and refuse compliance with so sacred an obligation. In this, 1856.] Ike Union tke Dangers whicA beset it. 183 however, the federal government was mistaken, and we have the melancholy reflection of knowing, that most of the non- slaveholding States not only disregarded it, but positively refused to redeem it. This law was pronounced constitutional and obligatory by their ablest, most learned, most eminent, and most patriotic statesmen and juristsmen who had no favor for slavery as a system. In this state of things, and to remedy this evil, the federal government, in 1850, passed the so-called fugitive-slave law, and placed its execution in the hands of its own tribunals and its own officers; and what has been the consequence? It produced one of the wildest and most terrific roars, ever belched forth by wild and mad fana- ticism; and now, the master in pursuit of his runaway slave, is in infinitely greater peril of life and liberty, than the fugi- tive of being captured. By acts of violent resistance, laws of nullification, judicial usurpation, and mobocratic violence, the power of this law has been broken in the hands of the federal government, and the provision of the Constitution made inef- fectual. The execution of the law has been resisted even to treason, without the punishment of one single guilty man, and in several of the free States the authority of the federal go- vernment openly defied. What is left for the slave States? Tame submission, or the dissolution of the federal Union? IDoes fanaticism desire to drive them to the resumption of every attribute of national sovereignty, and war? A mere treaty, violated as has been the constitutional compact, by the Northern States, would be cause of war, and would have pro- duced it. The Kansas-Nebraska bill seems also to have fanned the embers of the anti-slavery feeling of the North into a perfect blaze. Into such intensity has the excitement increased, that every hour seems pregnant with that most direful of all direful temporal eventsthe dissolution of the Union and civil war. These bills organize governments for the regulation of these territories without establishing, prohibiting, abolishing slavery, or making any provision as to slavery, except that the people of these territories when they form State governments shall decide the question of slavery for themselvesa provision in strict accordance with the principles of the Constitution and the true spirit of free government. To adopt this principle so truly republican and so entirely constitutional, the Missouri re- striction of 1820, so directly in conflict with it, had necessarily to be repealed, and was repealed; and yet this act, which se- cures to the people of these territories that dearest of all rights, 1S4 The Uhirn the Dan ger~ which be8et it. [March, the right of self-government, is denounced with a fierceness and furiousness unparalleled in the history of the Union. What pretensions have these men to liberty? It is contemptible. They are domineering and odious tyrants. In the a~vful sectional struggle to which these enactments has given rise, where stands the Democratic party? While its late gallant adversary, the Whig party, has struck its flag, blotted out its name and been absorbed by the newly-baptized Republican party at the North, purely sectional and ultra in all its views; and the new American party having a new platform for every change of the moon, adopted to every local demand, and consisting of a dozen sectional fragments, it has planted itself upon the ramparts of the Constitution, nailed its flag, on which is inscribed, THE CONSTITUTION, NON-INTERVi~N- TION, and the RIGHT OF SELF-GOVERNMENT, to the flag-staff; there to stand or there to falldetermined, like Leonidas and his Spartans, to defend these noble principles of liberty and constitutional free-government at all hazards and to the last extremity. This is the undivided sentimentthe undivided feeling of every Democrat North and South, East and West. In this noble, gallant, and perilous struggle, many of the old- line Whigs--those whose love of the Union and their country is infinitely superior to their attachment to party or narrow- minded prejudice, have taken position in the Democratic ranks, and are gallantly doing battle for the Union, the Constitutions State rights, and free government, without regard to by-gone antagonism. They have inscribed their names high on the rolls of fame. The position of the Democratic representatives in the present House of Representatives is lofty and commanding, and de- mands the admiration of the world of freemen. In the mi- nority, and assailed by two factions, one purely sectional and the other purely fragmental, each vying with the other in the strength of the blows which they are inflicting upon the De- mocracy, they have adopted their platform and nominated their candidate, and through a hundred ballots have stood by them without wavering or faltering. They know, that with them it is immaterial whether a so-called ~ or a so-called American should control the House, for they will find a deadly foe in eitherhence they give nothing and ask nothing. This is the true position of the only national conservative party in the country. Patriots should rally to their standard. In this great and doubtful struggle, one between sectional domination and constitutional equality, the present Demo- 1856.] The Union~ the Dangers which beset it. 185 cratic administration is nobly and firmly doing its duty to the Constitution, the Union, and the great principle of self-govern. inent. Fearless of that tide of denunciation and vituperation which mad, reckless, and vulgar fanatics and traitors will pour, in overflowing profusion, upon his name, approved of God, his conscience, and all friends of free government, he has fear- lessly and boldly hurled his thunderbolts upon the factions and traitors who agitate and distract the country and threaten the disruption of the Union. The brutal assaults of such men as hale and Giddings annoy him about as much as the fly did my Uncle Toby by lighting on his nose. He need only to say to them, as my Uncle Toby said to the fly, Go, little creature, the world is wide enough for you and inc. The principles and policy of the administration upon that subject, is in strict accord ~vith those of the Democratic party. The great issue, then, is, between domestic slavery and the Union, the decision of which is in the womb of the future, and its solution depends upon the Northern people. If they regard the ab lition of slavery where it exists, and its prohibition in the territories, paramount to every other consideration con- nected ~viih the Union and the Federal government, and con- tinue to annoy the slave States, intervene in the territories and resist the execution of the fugitive-slave law, then is the Union dissolved, and all the evils consequent upon it sweep, like a destructive tornado, over the land. r1~he slave States will sub- mit to no farther aggressionthey will recede no farther. They calmly hut firmly await the solution of the fearful ques- tion by the North. rihe South ~vill not be bound by the con- stitutional compact, while the North repudiates, defies, resists, and violates it. Will the North destroy the Union? We fear she will, for she has already sown the seed of discord and dis- organization sufficently thick to produce an abundant fruit of calamity and ruin. Suppose in this unhallowed enterprise of tyrannical domina- tion and oppression, the North shall drive to that sad extremi- tythe dissolution of the Union; what then is to be done? Will they succee(l in the emancipation of the slaves and place them in the midst of the Southern people upon terms of equality? This they can not do, unless they can invoke anew the creative power and wisdom of the Almighty. Will they provoke to servile ~var, to butchery and assassination? This, we believe many of them are ripe for. Do they expect to improve the moral, intellectual, and physical condition of the slaves? The slave population, in the aggregate, is more intel- 186 The lJnion~ the Dangers which beset it. [March, ligent, more, respectable, and more comfortable than the free negro population, North or South. Do they expect to block them up within a fixed boundary, so that the extermination of either the white or colored race shall be the consequence? It is a brutality of feeling and a cupidity of purpose in keeping with the leaders of abolitionism. There is no possible good they can accomplish, but much evil; for they are warring against the decrees of nature and natures God; for the inequality of condition, intellectual, moral, and physical, be- tween the white and the colored man, is his work and can not be changed. The North, so far from improving the intellectual, moral, or physical condition of the free negroes among them, has stamped them with greater degradation. What will they accomplish in a social point of view? They will dry up all fraternal feeling, interdict all social and commercial intercourse, and create a sectional hatred and dis- like which no time can extinguish, with all its evil conse- quences. What will they accomplish in a political point of view? They will strip a powerful and prosperous republic of all its strength, erect a few feeble governments, create standing armies, fall under subjection to a few petty tyrants, and ex- haust themselves in vindictive, bloody, and exterminating wars. The name of the great republic will be blotted out of the map of the world and a few petty kingdoms or petty provinces supply its place; and all for what? To accomplish that which by the laws of nature can not be accomplished, and which if it could, should be left to the power of truth and the force of reason fraternally wielded, aided by the mellowing influence of the hand of time. It can not be done by violence and oppression. There is nothing so important in slavery, as a political question, as to make so many, of such vast moment, subordi- nate to it. We have said more upon this subject of slavery than we designed when we commenced writing. It has been discussed until it has become so hackneyed, that there is no profit in it. Indeed with prejudice, bigotry, and fanaticism there is no reason- ing. Our effort has been to enlist the united and vigorous efforts of all thinking, reflecting, patriotic, and Union-loving men to resist the mighty tornado of treason and fanaticism, which is sweeping over our once united, powerful, and happy country. The Northern abolitionists, who are ready to sacrifice not only the Union, but free government itself to their one idea, 1856.] The Union the Dangere which 6eeet it. 187 are in the habit of denouncing every Northern representative, who, in conformity with his oath, and the compact of the Con- stitution, accords to the slaveholding States their constitutional rights, and refuses to violate them, as pro-slavery men. This denunciation is false, and made from unworthy motives. These representatives accord their rights and protect them, not be- cause they approve slavery, but because the Constitution accords them, and they arc bound by their oaths as well as their honor and fidelity to obey the Constitution. Many able, faithful, and patriotic men have they run down, by the appli- cation of this name, although utterly false and known to be false. j. G. LYNCLIBURGH, VA. [The writer of the article, The UniontAe Dcnigere w1tic7~ Zeset it, which appeared in the January number of the United States Democratic Review, in using the term North did not intend to make the wide sweep which the Editor of the Review seems to think it susceptible of. He knows that many, very many, of the statesmen and people of the North, in some of the States constituting a majority, are devoted to the Constitution, the Union, and the great principles of the Democratic party, and are making willing sacrifices of themselves, to sustain them. These the writer honors, and is ready to sustain by every means in his power. When he used the term North he meant only to designate the section from which the ag. gressions upon the South came, and not to involve the whole people. J. G.] January 28th, 1856. 188 iI$ngaley8 .PoernL ~INGSLEYS POEMS. THE following Poems by the author of Alton Loc~kc, ilypatia, etc., are forwarded to us in advance of their publication in London. Ticknor & Fields are preparing to issue the volume to which they belong, simultaneously with its appearance on the other side of the Atlantic. A THOUGHT FROM THE RHINE. BY CHARLES KINGSLEY. I HEARD an~agle crying all alone Above the vineyards, through the summer :night, Among the skeletons of robber towers The iron homes of iron-hearted lords, Now crumbling back to rein year by year Because the ancient eyrie of his race Is trenched and walled by busy-handed men, And all his forest-space and woodland wild, Wherefrom he fed his young with hare and roe, Are trim with grapes, which swell from hour to hour And toss their golden tendrils to the sun For joy at their own riches :So, I thought, The great devourers of the earth shall sit, Idle and impotent, they know not why, Down-staring from their bat ren height of state On nations grown too wise to slay and slave, The puppets of the few, while peaceful love And fellow-help make glad the heart of earth With wonders which they fear and hate, as he The Eagle hates the vineyard slopes below. SONNET. THE baby sings not on its mothers breast Nor nightingales who nestle side by side Nor I by thine: but let us only part; Then lips which should but kiss and so be still As having uttered all, must speak again. O stunted thoughts! 0 chill and fettered rhyme! Yet my great bliss, though still entirely blest, Losing its proper home can find no rest:

Charles Kingsley Kingsley, Charles Kingsley's Poems. A Thought from the Rhine 188

188 iI$ngaley8 .PoernL ~INGSLEYS POEMS. THE following Poems by the author of Alton Loc~kc, ilypatia, etc., are forwarded to us in advance of their publication in London. Ticknor & Fields are preparing to issue the volume to which they belong, simultaneously with its appearance on the other side of the Atlantic. A THOUGHT FROM THE RHINE. BY CHARLES KINGSLEY. I HEARD an~agle crying all alone Above the vineyards, through the summer :night, Among the skeletons of robber towers The iron homes of iron-hearted lords, Now crumbling back to rein year by year Because the ancient eyrie of his race Is trenched and walled by busy-handed men, And all his forest-space and woodland wild, Wherefrom he fed his young with hare and roe, Are trim with grapes, which swell from hour to hour And toss their golden tendrils to the sun For joy at their own riches :So, I thought, The great devourers of the earth shall sit, Idle and impotent, they know not why, Down-staring from their bat ren height of state On nations grown too wise to slay and slave, The puppets of the few, while peaceful love And fellow-help make glad the heart of earth With wonders which they fear and hate, as he The Eagle hates the vineyard slopes below. SONNET. THE baby sings not on its mothers breast Nor nightingales who nestle side by side Nor I by thine: but let us only part; Then lips which should but kiss and so be still As having uttered all, must speak again. O stunted thoughts! 0 chill and fettered rhyme! Yet my great bliss, though still entirely blest, Losing its proper home can find no rest:

Charles Kingsley Kingsley, Charles Kingsley's Poems. Sonnet 188-189

188 iI$ngaley8 .PoernL ~INGSLEYS POEMS. THE following Poems by the author of Alton Loc~kc, ilypatia, etc., are forwarded to us in advance of their publication in London. Ticknor & Fields are preparing to issue the volume to which they belong, simultaneously with its appearance on the other side of the Atlantic. A THOUGHT FROM THE RHINE. BY CHARLES KINGSLEY. I HEARD an~agle crying all alone Above the vineyards, through the summer :night, Among the skeletons of robber towers The iron homes of iron-hearted lords, Now crumbling back to rein year by year Because the ancient eyrie of his race Is trenched and walled by busy-handed men, And all his forest-space and woodland wild, Wherefrom he fed his young with hare and roe, Are trim with grapes, which swell from hour to hour And toss their golden tendrils to the sun For joy at their own riches :So, I thought, The great devourers of the earth shall sit, Idle and impotent, they know not why, Down-staring from their bat ren height of state On nations grown too wise to slay and slave, The puppets of the few, while peaceful love And fellow-help make glad the heart of earth With wonders which they fear and hate, as he The Eagle hates the vineyard slopes below. SONNET. THE baby sings not on its mothers breast Nor nightingales who nestle side by side Nor I by thine: but let us only part; Then lips which should but kiss and so be still As having uttered all, must speak again. O stunted thoughts! 0 chill and fettered rhyme! Yet my great bliss, though still entirely blest, Losing its proper home can find no rest: 1856.] Review of Webster8 Sy8tern. 180 Solike a child who whiles away the time With dance and carol till the even- tide, Watching its mother homeward through the glen;. Or nightingale, who sitting far apart, Tells to his listening mate within the nest The wonder of his star-entranced heart Till all the wakened woodlands laugh and thrill, Forth all my being bubbles into soTig, And rings aloft, not smooth, yet clear and strong. Are~ ArnericaR Dictionary of the English Language. By NOAH WEBSTER. 18281853. SOME five-and-twenty years have elapsed since this Dictionary was first issued; and, to its compiler and publishers, they have been years of success. The time for producing the work, was fortunate. Our language had grown rapidly for a considerable period: its vocabulary was largely increased by the contributions of science, by numerous adoptions from foreign tongues, and by an accumulation of derivatives from our own established words; so that a well-digested record of the progress of the language was really needed. Besides, the parties in interest, following the suggestion of the title -page, had industriously cultivated an Esprit-Americain in behalf of the book which materially aided its favorable reception. If Webster had confined himself to recording such additions of words as usage had sanctioned; to a careful sifting of etymologies; and to his own valuable definitions; his work would have been as great an acquisition to literature as to his individual profit. But, unfortunately, like many other men, priding himselfmost on what he was least fitted for; and assuming a character for which few men are fittedthat of a reformerhe added to his legitimate labour the gratuitous task of improving the orthography of the language. True, language, like all things human, is mutable. So long as it continues to be spoken, it will continue to change. From the days of JoHNsoN to the days of Webster, thousands of words had been added to the common stock, and many variations had taken place in the meanings of words. Spelling, also, had undergone some modifications. For example, the k of music, physic, etc., and the u of favour, honour, etc., had been gradually dropped by good writers, though probably without good reason; and thus orthogra- phy, too, was in a state of progress. This was an undesirable state; for it left the student without any absolute standard. And if the student chose

Review of Webster's System 189-200

1856.] Review of Webster8 Sy8tern. 180 Solike a child who whiles away the time With dance and carol till the even- tide, Watching its mother homeward through the glen;. Or nightingale, who sitting far apart, Tells to his listening mate within the nest The wonder of his star-entranced heart Till all the wakened woodlands laugh and thrill, Forth all my being bubbles into soTig, And rings aloft, not smooth, yet clear and strong. Are~ ArnericaR Dictionary of the English Language. By NOAH WEBSTER. 18281853. SOME five-and-twenty years have elapsed since this Dictionary was first issued; and, to its compiler and publishers, they have been years of success. The time for producing the work, was fortunate. Our language had grown rapidly for a considerable period: its vocabulary was largely increased by the contributions of science, by numerous adoptions from foreign tongues, and by an accumulation of derivatives from our own established words; so that a well-digested record of the progress of the language was really needed. Besides, the parties in interest, following the suggestion of the title -page, had industriously cultivated an Esprit-Americain in behalf of the book which materially aided its favorable reception. If Webster had confined himself to recording such additions of words as usage had sanctioned; to a careful sifting of etymologies; and to his own valuable definitions; his work would have been as great an acquisition to literature as to his individual profit. But, unfortunately, like many other men, priding himselfmost on what he was least fitted for; and assuming a character for which few men are fittedthat of a reformerhe added to his legitimate labour the gratuitous task of improving the orthography of the language. True, language, like all things human, is mutable. So long as it continues to be spoken, it will continue to change. From the days of JoHNsoN to the days of Webster, thousands of words had been added to the common stock, and many variations had taken place in the meanings of words. Spelling, also, had undergone some modifications. For example, the k of music, physic, etc., and the u of favour, honour, etc., had been gradually dropped by good writers, though probably without good reason; and thus orthogra- phy, too, was in a state of progress. This was an undesirable state; for it left the student without any absolute standard. And if the student chose 190 Review of Ifelsters System. LMarch, to refine upon the matter, he would soon see that not only was there no ab- solute standard, but that the very principles of our orthographyits rules and its analogieswere exceedingly defective. This is all true; but it is also true that discovering defects is one thing; curing them, another: and it is the fate of reformers, generally, to propose remedies that are worse than the disease. They can see that such and such wheels of the machine have an eccentric motion; but they can not see that cutting away what they deem superfluous flanges may disturb other wheels that are regulated by that very eccentricity. A change which the reformer thinks will promote simplicity, may happen to produce confusion; and, unless he fully understands the machinery, he is pretty certain to do mis- chief by meddling with it. This would seem to be Websters predicament. He aspired to w Newto. nian law that would reconcile all orthographical inconsistencies; he pro- duced certain arbitrary rules of his own creation that reconcile nothing, that are whimsically limited in their scope, and are ridiculous from their recipro. cal contradictions. Webster remarks that the chief value of a dictionary consists in its definitions. Some one else remarks, that opinions differ. Yet it must be acknowledged that Websters remark, as applied to his own dictionary, is not far from the truth. The vocabulary of his book has, certainly, the merit of amplitude. He says it contains sixteen thousand words not to be found in any similar, preceding work: but when one opens the book in the middle and finds, consecutively, irremovability, irremovable, irremovably, irremoval, irremunerable, irrenowned, irreparability, irreparable, irreparableness, irreparably, irrepealability, irrepealable, irrepealableness, irrepealably, irrepentanee, he may, perhaps, doubt whether the value of the dictionary increases in the direct ratio of its voluminousness. Websters etymologies, too, are co- pious: probably more so than any preceding lexicographers, in the propor- tion of three to one: but as their genuineness is not always beyond ques- tion, their quantity is hardly a fair measure of their value. The orthogra- phy of the dictionary requires a more careful consideration. The principlesor rather, the dogmasof Websters proposed reform, are embodied in the following enumerated paragraphs: 1. Considering that the tendency of our language to greater simplicity and broader analogies ought to be watched and cherished with the utmost care, he felt that whenever a movement toward wider analogies and more general rules had advanced so far as to leave but few exceptions to impede 1856.] Review of TVelsters Sy8tem. 191 its progress, those exceptions ought to be set aside at once and the analogy rendered complete. 2. We had numerous words derived from the French, originally ending in re, as cidre, chambre, etc. And, as these had gradually conformed to English spelling, until the number ending in re was reduced to fifteen or twenty, with their derivatives, it was necessary to complete the analogy at once by transposing the terminations of the remainder. Acre, massacre, and lucre, however, are necessary exceptions, since transposing their termina- tions would endanger their pronunciation. 3. We had many hundreds of primitives ending in a single consonant, whose derivatives were formed by the addition of ing, ed, er, etc., and in their derivatives, this single consonant was doubled when the accent fell on it, as forget, forgetting; but it was not doubled when the accent fell on a preceding syllable, as garden, gardener. There were also about fifty word8 ending in 1, in which the analogy was violated, as travel, traveller. It was necessary, therefore, at once to strike out the superfluous 1 from these fifty words. But the 11 was retained in chancellor, metallurgy, crystalline, with their cognates, because they were derived directly from the Latin and Greek, cancellarius, metallum, and epiYaTa2O~o~. 4. Expense, recompense, license, which formerly had a c in their last sylla- ble, had since taken an s, because s is used in their derivatives, as, expensive, etc. As in this instance, it was necessary to change only three words to complete the analogy, namely, defence, offence, and pretence, their c was at once replaced with an s, and they were written defense, offense, and pretense. It had been asked, why not spell fence in the same manner? And nothing is easier than the answer; the derivatives require the c; as, fencing, etc., and therefore the c offence is retained. 5. Foretel, instil, distil, fulfil should be written foretell, instill, etc., be- cause their derivatives, fortelling, instilling, etc., are so written. 6. Dulness,fulness, skilful, wilful, must be written dullness, fullness, etc., because their primitives are so written, as, dull, full, skill, will. Walker says there is no reason why we should not write dullness, fullness, skillful, and willful, as well as stiffness, gruffness, and crossness. 7. Such compounds as befall, miscall, install, forestall, inthrall, enroll, and their derivatives befalling, miscalling, installing,forestalling, inthrall- ment, and enrollment, are spelled with the 11, to prevent a false pronuncia- tion. 8. Jtfould and moult should be spelled mold and molt, because the u has been dropped or never was used in gold, bold, fold, colt. 9. Wo should be spelled woe, because doe, foe, hoe, toe, and all similar nouns of one syllable are so spelled. The parts of speech other than nouns, as go, so, no, retain the termination in o; as, also, do nouns of more than one syllable, as motto, potato, tomato. 10. Practise, the verb, should be spelled practice, because the noun is so spelled. Drought should be spelled drouth, because it is extensively so pro- 192 Review of Websters System. [March, nounced. Height should be spelled hight, because it was so spelled by MILTON. lon should be spelled tlen, and molasses, mela~ses, because that spell- ing is more consistent with the etymologies. tkn temporary should be spelled coteinporary, because it is more easily pronounced. Plough should be spelled plow, because that spelling more naturally represents the sound. 11. Verbs from the Greek t~a, and others formed in analogy with them, have the termination in ize, as baptize, legalize, etc. Catechise, and exorcise are exceptions. Verbs and some nouns, derived directly from the French and a fuw from other sow ces, have the termination in ise, as advertise, advise, affiranchise, chastise, circumcise, comprise, compromise, criticise, demise, despise, devise, disfranchise, disguise, emprise, enfranchise, enterprise, exer- cise, merchandise, mi.~jprise,. premise, reprise, revise, supervise, surmise, sur- prise. These eleven paragraphs, dogmas, rules, or whatever they may be termed, form with the exception of a few instances entirely too trivial to be dis- cussed, the sum-total of Websters orthographical creed, presented substan- sally in his own words. 1. The assumptions of number one are characteristic and suggestive. They prophetically weigh and measure the lexicographer. Nobody can doubt what sort of orthography will follow such a preamble. The tenden- cies which it would puzzle any other philologist to discover: the complacent solicitade with which those tendencies are watched and cherished: and the heroism which summarily removes impeding exceptions (regardless of consequences, as ref~rmers always nobly proclaim themselves) are consis- tent with each other and pleasnnt to look upon. 2. Webster found fifteen or twenty words derived from the French and retaining their original termination in re, although numerous other words, of similar derivation and termination had gradually conformed to English spelling, that is, the re had been transposed to er, as cidre to cider, chambre to chamber, etc. What Webster means by the term English spelling, in this connection, is not obvious: re is as consistent with any admitted or fixed principle of English orthography, as er: but the reason why these fifteen or twenty words retained their original termination, and why Webster should have let them alone, is obvious enough to every one but himself; namely, that their derivatives reguired it. As Webster found the words, they stood thus: theatre, theatrical, sepulchre, sepulchral, centre, cent ral, lustre lustrous etc etc. , ., as he left them, they stand thus: theater, theatrical, sepulcher, sepulchral, center, central, luster, lustrous, etc., etc., 1866.] Revv~ew of W~bster8 Sy8ten& . 193 that is, he transposed the termination of the primitive, to conform to hi. rule, and then retransposed it in the derivative to conform to English spell- ing. His derivatives should be theaterical, sepuicherat, centeral, lusterous, etc. Acre, massacre, lucre, he says are necessary exceptions. Doubtless they are necessary to his rule, and that proves his rule to be a bad one: it neither promotes simplicity nor broadens analogy. When deriva- tives on the one hand and pronunciation on the other, oppose the working of an arbitrary rule, a prudent man would withhold his rule: but reformers are seldom prudent men. In direct contradiction of this rule, Webster spells ogre with the original termination. 8. For reasons satisfactory to Websterante, rule number 3it was ne- cessary to strike out the superfluous 1 of travelling, and about fifty similar words. If the precept in rule number 2 has any force, namely, that the spelling must not be altered when altering it endangers the pronuncia- tion, some of these fifty changes will be found hazardous. For instance as a matter of fact, and by orthoepical construction, shaveling, starveling, etc., are words of two syllables: yet, under this rule, Webster ordains that shoveling, traveling, etc., which have precisely the same ortho~pical construction, shall be pronounced in three syllables. Here, then, is arbitrary rule the second in direct conflict with arbitrary rule the first. Which must give way? But that i~ not all. Webster says that chancellor, metallurgy, and crystalline retain the 11 be- cause they are derived directly from the Latin and Greek. This becauses may as well be investigated. The lexicographer bases an orthographical principle on his simple assertion of a fact: but that fact is, first, inherently improbable: secondly, is utterly beyond the assertors knowledge: and thirdly, would not support his position if it were true. 1. It is improbable. The three words necessarily came to the French before they were adopted by the English; and as Icp13oTa2L2Lo~- changed into crystallinus on its journey through Rome, they all went dii-ectly from Italy to France: and our En g- hsh ancestors had no occasion to go to Italy for what was already to be had by crossing the channel. Moreover, the h of chancellor proves that it came directly from the French, and Webster div-proves his own assertion of its derivation from cancellarius, by giving in his own dictionary, chancelier as its etymology! 2. It is beyond the assertors knowledge. Neither he nor his great-grandfather was there when the word was adopted; no human being can affirm, as truth, what is so remote and coi~jectural; and a vague 14 194 Review of Websters System. [March, and rash ~UC88 forms no apology, even, for such an affirmation. 3. If the words were directly so derived, the fact would not justify Websters ex- cepting them from his rule. That rule is, inferentiallyotherwise, it has no meaning whateverthat words directly derive a wa s retain the ii of their originals. Yet, observe how Webster himself sets this rule at nought in this very dictionary: excel, spelled with one 1, is derived from excello; dispel, dispello; repel, repello; libel, libellus; pupil, pupillus; compel, compello; and so forth, and so forth. Nor is this all. After Webster has expunged the superfluous I from his fifty words, marvellous, counsellor, etc., in obedience to rule number 3, he proceeds, in defiance of the same rule to spell in his dictionary as follows: gTavel, (primitive.) lamel, (primitive.) gravelly, lamellar, chapel, (primitive.) lamellarly, cl& apellany, lamellate, cancel, (primitive.) lamellated, cancellate, lamell~ferous, cancellated, etc., etc., cancellation, and so on, indefinitely. There is another point to be considered about rule number 3. Its phraseology seems to be plain, but Websters practice con- fuses it. The rule says, that when the accent falls on the final consonant of the prir~iitive it is to be doubled in the derivative, and not otherwise; asfor- get, forgetting, in the one case, and travel, traveler, in the other. Yet, Webster spells tranquil, tranquillity, etc., as if he were prepared to say, that, though the accent does not fall on the final consonant of the primitive while it remains a primitive, yet if that con- sonant takes the accent when the word becomes a derivative, it is still to be doubled. This would be interpreting Websters rule with a large latitude in his favor, and it is an interpretation to which he is by no means enti- tled. Nevertheless, give him the full benefit of it, and then apply the rule, so construed, to his spelling of civil, civility, legal, legality, frugal, frugality, etc. and, then, for a counter-contradiction of his rule, where the final consonant of the primitive is accented, and the same consonant in the derivative is not, take his spelling of excel, excellent, 1856.] Review Qf Tfebsters System. 195 and the lexicographers inconsistency approaches the sublime! It is to be observed that the spelling of the twenty-and-odd words here cited is correct in fact, but is not correct according to Websters own rules. 4. Webster specifies license, among other words, as having been changed from licence because the derivatives require the 8. This affirmation is an extraordinary license for a lexicographer whose dictionary contains the following words: license, licenticcte, licensed, licentiection, licensing, licentious, licensei, licentiously, licensure, licentiousness, that is, four derivatives in which the s is used, and five where it is not. And this misstatement of the fact is material, because Webster makes it one of his points of justification in changing the only three words that remain terminating in ence. But what does Webster mean by saying that pre- tence, offence, and defence, are the only three words that remain terminat- ing in ence 7 His own dictionary contains many other words terminating in ence, the derivatives of which do not retain the c, all of which he leaves just as he finds them, in a state of absolute non-conformity to his rule. For example: sentence, sententious, consequence, consequential, inference, inferential, and so on. If a direct answer could have been extorted from Webster, it would be pleasant to see his reply to this question: Since it was necessary to change defence into defense because defensive is spelled with an s, why should sentence remain unchanged, when its derivatives are spelled with a t? Webster says, the question has been asked, why not spell fence with an 4 And he finds nothing easier than the reply, that the deriva- tives offence require the c. If this reply means any thing, it means that the spelling of a derivative must control the spelling of its primitive: and if this rule has any force, it must be general in its application, and not re- stricted to such isolated cases as Websters caprice may dictate. The reader will have occasion to keep this point in remembrance. Now, what are the primitives, in the case of fence, offence, and defence? Websters dictionary gives the answer: fend, the root of offend and defend; fence, for etymology, see fend; in other words, fend is the original word; and from it, in order, comefence, offend, defend, offence, offensive, etc., defence, defensive, etc. So that, when Webster changed defence to defense; instead of conforming to his rule, that the spelling of the derivative must govern that of the primitive, he, in fact, and without knowing it, practically enacted a new rule, that the spelling of one derivative must govern the spelling of another derivative, whenever 196 ]?evzew of IFeb8ter8 Syste?m. [March, the lexicographer deemed it expedient. The remaining word of the only three that remained, is pretence. Here, again, by parity of reasoning, the actual primitive is pretend: but, for the sake of the argument, let preten~e be the primitive, and then consult Websters dictionary: pretense, pretensed, (authority, Encyc.) pretension, the primitive, pretence, is changed, to conform to its two derivatives. But what sort of a modern English word is pretensed? Webster cites the Ency- clopceiia as authority. What Encyclopcedia? Rule out the word, for the present, as not sufficiently accredited, and there remains one primitive vs. one derivative: a tie vote. But this is not a fair statement on the part of Webster: he omits the familiar word pretentious. His dictionary, which contains 16,000 more words than can be found in any previous dic- tionary, and which attains that distinction by recruits from all creditable and discreditable sources, nevertheless does not contain the word preten- tious. Why? Did Webster omit that, and insert pretensed, in order to give the derivatives a uniformity of spelling, and a majority of numbers? If so, the proceeding smacks strongly offalse pretences. 5, 6. Under rule number 3, Webster hunts down the superfluous 1 with the spirit of an exterminator; and in his preface, he still further hardens himself against 1, by quoting a sneer from Walker: but Webster, under rule number 3, and Webster under rules 5 and 6, are two different men. The reasons given for adding an 1 to some words are quite as good as the reasons for taking it away from others; of which, more anon. In the mean time, it is impossible not to suggest, in reference to the quotation from Walker, (side, rule number 0,) that as dulness should be written dullness, because its primitive is written dull, skilful should be written skil{tull, to complete the analogy with stiffness. An illustration, however, is a dan- gerous form of argument: it is very apt to prove too much: and those who resort to it in one case, must submit to it in another. Apply this to rule number 5. Distil, etc., should be written distill, because the derivatives, distiller, etc, require the 11: then, certainly, forget, submit, begin, refer, concur, repel, and so on, should be written, forgett, submitt, beginn, referr, concurr, repell, and so on, because their derivatives require the final conso- nant to be doubled; as forgetting, submitting, beginning, referring, concurr- ing, repelling. By the way, Websters views of the powers of a lexicogra- pher are pleasantly illustrated in a remark about Walker. Having quoted, in his preface, Walkers opinion on the superfluous 1, he says, These were the deliberate opinions of Walker. If he had taken the trouble to carry them into his vocabulary, instead of relying on this mere remark for the correction of the error, probably, by this time, the error would have been wholly eradicated from our orthography. I. Websters manner of stating this rule leads the reader to suppose that 1~e- Review of We~8ter8 Sy8tem. 1856.] 197 fall, install,forcstall, inthrall, miscall, and enroll, areWebsters improvements on the previous spelling; but the last two, only, are his: and it is very odd that, when he became alive to the danger of mispronouncing enrol with one 1, he should be so insensible to the same danger in control, as to spell it with a single 1; and that, too, while he spells the derivatives controlling, etc., with the double l~ in direct opposition to his own rule number 5. 8. Moul2 and moult should be written mold and molt, because the u has been dropped or never was used in gold, bold, fold and colt. The rea- son is good: and its force may be shown, as in rule number 5, by carrying out the illustration: court should be written cort, because the u has been dropped, or never was used in port and fort! 9. Webster fdund wo, go, so, no, without the e, and foe, toe, hoe, toe, with it. His reason for adding the e to wo, and for not adding it to go, so, no, is, that wo is a noun, and the other three words are other parts of speech. This is a small matter, at best; but Websters reason is entirely arbitrary. 10. Waiving the questions whether MILTON is an authority for English orthography in the nineteenth century, and, if he is so, whether hight is not misprinted from his manuscript per alium; one question remains touching rule number 10, viz.: Is there any disputed point in ethics, morals, religion, astronomy, or nursery-rhymes, which may not be effectually disposed of by this universal solvent because 7 A word, however, as to MILTON, on the questions waived. Webster cites a poet who died a century and a half be- fore the American Dictionary was born, in support of the spelling of the single word, hight. But, surely, MILTON, if an authority1at all, can not be restricted to one word: he must be presumed to have had a knowledge of orthography, generally, it he is permitted to dogmatise on it particularly; and if Webster accredits him as a standard, he must follow him as a stand- ard. Turn, then, to the first edition of Paradise Lost. That may pretty safely be taken as an exponent of the poets principles of English spelling if~ in his blindness, he had any. This edition, published in London, in 1669, has, passim, the following specimens: Som (some); rowled (rolled); shon (shone); tast (taste); fowl (foul); thir (their); justifte; defte; adversarie; progenie; alwaies; 8lcie; appeer; neer; deer; binde; manicinde; wilde; waye; ruine; clierube; haire; paine; forme; eare; gulfe; Time; accoste; meeter; mee; hee; seveanth; warr; clann; lcenn; farr; lyes; onely; desperat; siipream; sollid; etc. 11. Webster does not say why verbs from the Greek t~co terminate in ize, as baptize, etc.; nor why catechise and exorcise are exceptions. But the working of his rule, under which he changes defence to defense be- cause defensive requires the s, seems to be impeded when applied to baptize, for he leaves it as he finds it, although he is compelled to spell its deriv- atives with an s, baptist, baptism, baptismal, etc. The assertion that bap- tize and legalize are derived directly from the Greek, needs confirmation. Webster proceeds to say that verbs and some nouns, derived from the 198 Review of Wdater8 System. [March, French and elsewhere, have the termination in ice, and he furnishes a list of examples that professes to include the whole. The necessity for the re- mark and the citations is not very obvious; but it is strange that, with his propensity to complete analogies, he should have omitted to include in his list the single and only remaining word, price; certainly, on his own showing, this should be spelled prise. It would seem, then, that Websters much-vaunted reform is limited to about eighty words in a dictionary containing eighty thousand words; being the proportion of one to a thousand. A homceopathic quantity; yet, as the words victimized are those in common use, the minute dose has had a visi- ble effect on the system. But the effect is not remediaL The patient is no better. English orthography has not been simplified, nor have its analogies been broadened by Websters labours, even supposing his innovations had been accepted by scholarswhich they have not. The dictionary may sell, but not for its orthography. The proprietors of a large publishing house, who are also publishers of the dictionary, have introduced Websters spell- ing into their books, probably as a matter of contract; and some newspa- pers have, to a greater or less extent, taken the same course. But these in- stances carry no authority on a purely literary question. Educated men and good writers, generally, have repudiated the experiment. And why should they not? The volunteer reformer was every way unequal to his task. He has given no good reason for any one change; and his changes, so far as adopted, have introduced confusion. His rules are ridiculous in themselves, irreconcileable with each other, and constantly at variance with his own practice. He changes a termination, or adds or take away a letter, because the primitive requires it because the derivative requires it be- cause it endangers the pronunciation, when it does notbecause it secures the pronunciation, when it does notbecause the word is a nounbecause it isnt a nounbecause it is an exceptionbecause it is so pronounced (by ignorant people)because MILTON spelled it soin short, because any thing that fits the caprice of the moment. Such advancing and retreating, such convolutions and involutions of reasoning, all for the sake of doing what never was done before, and all within the compass of eighty words- can find no precedent in the career of reforms. And it is remarkable, that Webster, with all his plodding, could not hit upon the really weak points of the language. He had the luck always to attack what was impregnableat least, to his assaults. There is no lack of inconsistencies in English orthography, but the instances that are least de- fensible are just those that Webster failed to discover. It may be well to designate a few specimensnot with the intention of urging a reform; Web- sters experience in that line may well deter imitators; butto show how obscure are obvious truths to a certain class of investigators. To lead; to read: the preterite and past participle of these verbs are pro- nounced led and red, and yet are spelled led and read. 1856.] Review of We6stere System. 199 U~e, abuse, rise: the nouns and verbs have a uniform spelling; but the nouns are pronounced as uce and ice, and the verbs, uze and ire: yet advice and advise, with a similar difference of prounciation, are spelled to conform to that difference. Again, refuse, surmise, etc., pronounce the s like z, in both the verb and the noun. Few and view: why should not the spelling of these words be uniform? Whole, in the adverb, drops the e, and becomes wholly; vile, in the ad- verb, retains the e, vilely. Fascinate and vacillate: one with the s and the other without it: imitate and imminent; one with one m, and the other with two. These words fol- low their respective etymologies, but there are so many instances where etymology does not control orthography, it seems rather Websterian to give that as a reason for the difference. T7~rmilion, pavilion, cotillion; all directly from the French, and all hav- ing the Il in the original, though only the last retains it. Boot, root, foot, in the singular, change, in the plural, to boots, roots, feet. Proffer and profit, with a similar e4mology, are thus differently spelled. Coz~ple and supple, from the French couple and souple: etymology, in all respects, identical; and yet, though pronounced alike in English, are thus diversely spelled. Episode and epitome, have the same etymology, yet one has three sylla- bles, and the other, four: this, however, is not a matter of spelling but of pronunciation. These are a few examples of real inconsistency in English orthography; but probably no man in his senses would undertake to reform them; the game would not pay for the candle. Websters tampering with the language was a calamity, because no radi- calism is without its followers, and he has his. But the thing wrn have its day; and this good may come of it: other enthusiasts, taking warning from his example, may learn that a reformer whose entire theory is based on as- sumptions, whose rules are bare assertions of his opinions, and whose prac- tice is inconsistent with both, will never make much progress among edu- cated minds. 200 Tke Poet8 Part. [March, THE POETS PART. WHY should I pour my soul in song, Or coin my heart to words In plaints that reach the worldly throng, Like cries of wounded birds? Who recks? The forest shows as green, The bending sky as fair, And thousand songsters cheer the scene Though one forsake the air. Why should I from the mine of thought, Delve out the hidden gold To glitter on a brow of naught, Or breast as marble cold? What has the Poet for his part? A naked fame at best, Whilst idle tongue, and idler heart, In all his wealth are dressed. The feverish labor of the brain, Scaring sweet sleep away, And making others night, and gain, His loss, and wearier day Who knows it, or who cares to know, Till gather round his hearse The crowd, in whom an earlier glow Had fired a nobler verse? Hush and be still! Complain not thou, By that sweet madness driven To set upon a mortal brow, The coronet of heaven. Writefor thou must! Pour, poet-heart, Thy life-blood in the line: By all that wrings thy mortal part, God makes thy Song divine. a. w. c.

S. W. C. C., S. W. The Poet's Part 200-201

200 Tke Poet8 Part. [March, THE POETS PART. WHY should I pour my soul in song, Or coin my heart to words In plaints that reach the worldly throng, Like cries of wounded birds? Who recks? The forest shows as green, The bending sky as fair, And thousand songsters cheer the scene Though one forsake the air. Why should I from the mine of thought, Delve out the hidden gold To glitter on a brow of naught, Or breast as marble cold? What has the Poet for his part? A naked fame at best, Whilst idle tongue, and idler heart, In all his wealth are dressed. The feverish labor of the brain, Scaring sweet sleep away, And making others night, and gain, His loss, and wearier day Who knows it, or who cares to know, Till gather round his hearse The crowd, in whom an earlier glow Had fired a nobler verse? Hush and be still! Complain not thou, By that sweet madness driven To set upon a mortal brow, The coronet of heaven. Writefor thou must! Pour, poet-heart, Thy life-blood in the line: By all that wrings thy mortal part, God makes thy Song divine. a. w. c. 1856.1 Jackson and 7Iew-Orleans. 201 Jackson and New- Orleans. An Authentic Narrative of the Miemo- rable Achievemen ts of the American Army, under Andrew Jack. son, before New- Orleans, in the I Vinier of 181415. By ALEX- ANDER WALKER, New-York: J. C. DERBY. Cincinnati: H. W. DERBY. WHAT Marengo was to the France of Napoleon; and Waterloo to EnglandNew-Orleans is to Americans. A victory com- plete, dazzling, finalno reproach connects itself with the thought, no mistake or disaster impairs its grandeur. To such a scene it is proper that the patriotic sentiment of a country should eternally recur for illustration, example, precedent. We receive Mr. Walkers book with thanks, as a good gift to the American people. A feeling of surprise, however, possesses us as we read it, not that he or any other American should devote himself, with loving enthusiasm, to chronicle the scenes of that eventful story; but that so many years should have passed before it was done. This, however, has undoubtedly been in a great measure referable to the fact that the disjecta membra of the work have been scattered everywhere in news- papers, magazines, speeches, poems, resolutions, etc., etc.; and their familiarity has put off the work of their collection and arrangement in a single volume. Time, however, very quickly obliterates or dims the brightest page of national story, if left to the careless keeping of anecdote and tradition, and the most glorious deeds survive rather as heroic myths, than as substant- ive facts. In throwing together in an enduring form the sketches before us, Mr. Walkers object and motive as stated by himself are equally philosophic, and we entertain no doubt will achieve their purpose, and prevent unpatriotic lapses of memory. Yiew it in what light we may; whether as the com- pletion and crowning glory of a war waged against the first power in the world by a Republic whose thews and sinews were scarcely hardened into manhood, and waged successfully; the exhibition of combined valor and good conduct on the part of a hastily-collected and badly-equipped citizen-soldiery; or the bright halo it set for ever around that grand old head of him whose character and services have enshrined him in the hearts of the American people as second only to the Father of his country: viewed in any light,

Jackson and New-Orleans 201-207

1856.1 Jackson and 7Iew-Orleans. 201 Jackson and New- Orleans. An Authentic Narrative of the Miemo- rable Achievemen ts of the American Army, under Andrew Jack. son, before New- Orleans, in the I Vinier of 181415. By ALEX- ANDER WALKER, New-York: J. C. DERBY. Cincinnati: H. W. DERBY. WHAT Marengo was to the France of Napoleon; and Waterloo to EnglandNew-Orleans is to Americans. A victory com- plete, dazzling, finalno reproach connects itself with the thought, no mistake or disaster impairs its grandeur. To such a scene it is proper that the patriotic sentiment of a country should eternally recur for illustration, example, precedent. We receive Mr. Walkers book with thanks, as a good gift to the American people. A feeling of surprise, however, possesses us as we read it, not that he or any other American should devote himself, with loving enthusiasm, to chronicle the scenes of that eventful story; but that so many years should have passed before it was done. This, however, has undoubtedly been in a great measure referable to the fact that the disjecta membra of the work have been scattered everywhere in news- papers, magazines, speeches, poems, resolutions, etc., etc.; and their familiarity has put off the work of their collection and arrangement in a single volume. Time, however, very quickly obliterates or dims the brightest page of national story, if left to the careless keeping of anecdote and tradition, and the most glorious deeds survive rather as heroic myths, than as substant- ive facts. In throwing together in an enduring form the sketches before us, Mr. Walkers object and motive as stated by himself are equally philosophic, and we entertain no doubt will achieve their purpose, and prevent unpatriotic lapses of memory. Yiew it in what light we may; whether as the com- pletion and crowning glory of a war waged against the first power in the world by a Republic whose thews and sinews were scarcely hardened into manhood, and waged successfully; the exhibition of combined valor and good conduct on the part of a hastily-collected and badly-equipped citizen-soldiery; or the bright halo it set for ever around that grand old head of him whose character and services have enshrined him in the hearts of the American people as second only to the Father of his country: viewed in any light, JacksOn and New-Orleans. 202 [March, There is no campaign in modern military history, which, for its extent, was more complete in all its parts, and more brilliant in its results, than that conducted by Andrew Jackson in 181415, in the defense of New-Orleans. In the brief period of twenty-six days, a town of less than eighteen thousand inhabitants, including all sexes and ages, without fortsnatural or artificial defensesexposed to approach and attack on all sides, by land and water with an army of less than five thousand militia, hastily raised en masse, and illy armed and acoutredwas not only successfully defended against a vete- ran army of ten thousand of the best soldiers in the world, but was made for ever glorious by the most brilliant victory which has been achieved since the invention of gunpowder. The peculiarities of this victory are the as- tonishing and unprecedented disparity of loss between the combatants, and the marvellous proofs of steadiness, of skill and rapidity in the use of fire- arms, displayed by the American militia. The splendor of the closing vic- tory has obscured manyfeatures of this campaign, which contributed largely to the final result, and, as valuable lessons and glorious illustrations of the valor of our citizen soldiers, and of the genius of the great Chief and Hero whose lofty soul was the fountain of inspiration, from which all engaged in that defense drew courage, confidence, and patriotic resolutionought not to be forgotten or hastily glanced over. To preserve their record fresh in the heart and memory of America is to do the state yoeman service, and we congratu- late Mr. Walker on having performed the work gracefully and well. His style is lively, often graphic, and pleasingly free from those disgusting attempts at the height of fine writing, de- scribed with epigrammatic point by the good strong Yankeeism, Highfalutin. The distinguished English military gentlemen who proposed an unmolested promenade for themselves through the streets of New-Orleans in search of Booty and Beauty, were met by a little obstacle on which they had not reckoned. Mr. Walker notices the fact, thus: The strength of earth-works against the most powerful batteries, which was so strongly shown in Jacksons defense, was again illustrated on the southern side of Sevastopol, against the same British Engineering-officer who constructed the redoubts which Jacksons Artillery destroyed in three hours on the plains of Chalmette, on the first of January, 1814; this unfor- tunate officer is Sir John Burgoyne, Inspector of Fortifications in the British army. The lesson at New-Orleans should have taught another wholesome truth to the projectors of the Crimean Expeditionthat of the great peril and difficulty of all attempts to capture a town, the communication of which with the interior is left open and unobstructed. In this respect, the posi- tions of New-Orleans and Sevastopol were identical. Finally these two cam- paigns have demonstrated this other valuable and encouraging truth; that in the most remote and exposed points of a united nation, we often find the most brilliant proofs of patriotism, courage, and devotion. Coupling their experience of January, 1814, before New- 18~6j Jackson and New-Orleans. 203 Orleans, with that of 185456 before the earth-works of Sebastopol, will, we benignantly trust, convince Her Majestys Ministers that another hostile attempt on this continent might possibly be attended with a disagreeable number of casualties in the Royal Army, and prevent at any future time the landing of those fifty thousand red-coated individuals upon the shores of Long-Island, so painfully hinted at by the enterpris- ing and ubiquitous Mayor of New-York. Should any English Cabinet be inclined to put the matter to the test, we feel it in our bones that we could reword the result in pretty much the same phrase used before New-Orleans on the 8th of January, 1814. Seriously, and to save a large expense of transportation and warlike material, we would advise Her Majestys government, whenever it finds itself encumbered with a hundred or two thousand useless sodgers, to quietly drown or shoot them at home and save us the trouble. It is hardly fair for Great Britain to turn us into executioners, and send the poor wretches three thousand miles away for the eoup de graCe. Although familiar to us all, we can not refrain from copying the little sketch of Jacksons earlier life given by Mr. Walker, especially as it is well and pointedly presented: What were these glorious antecedents, that drew so much of popular ad- miration and confidence to Andrew Jackson, and constitute some of his titles to the renown, which history and all nations assign to him? Let us briefly sketch them. A wild and desolate place called the Waxhaw Settlement, in a remote dis- trict of South-Carolina, was the scene of Jacksons birth and boyhood. Throughout the wide Union it would be difficult to find two more dreary and desert-looking localities, than those which hare been consecrated by the birth of the two most eminent men in the history of AmericaGeorge Wash- ington and Andrew Jackson. Jackson was born on the 15th March, 1707. His parents were emigrants from the north of Ireland, but of & otch descent. They had fled from the persecutions and dissensions of the Old World, in pursuit of peace and hap- piness in the New. They had been two years in the country when Andrew was born. Like most great men, he was blessed with a mother of uncom- mon intelligence and vigor of mind. With such an instructress and guardian, his intellect early developed, and his spirit expanded into premature manli- ness. He needed only the occasion to cast his thoughts and feelings in that heroic mould, which constitutes true greatness. Such opportunity was pre- sented, when in beardless boyhood, he found himself in the very midst of some of the most gloomy scenes of the Revolution of 1776. In old age, when time and infirmity pressed heavily upon that sanguine and dauntless spirit, and the impressions of youth came out upon the memo- ry with more distinctness, that tottering old man of the Hermitage, with his shrivelled visage and snowy locks, but with eye still undimmed and piercing as ever, would recall, with frightful accuracy, the horrible scenes of carnage, 204 Jackson and New-Orleans. [March, rapine, and desolation which had made that boyhood, to which most men recur as the bright period of their lives, the gloomiest and saddest epoch in his career. When a stripling of thirteen, with scarcely the strength to raise a mus- ket, he joined a party of patriots, under the heroic Sumpter, and in the action at Hanging Rock, and in various skirmishes, showed himself to be a boy only in years. His biographers relate several instances in which his ready courage and self-possession saved himself and his companions from death and capture. Even then he was a chief among men, and often as- sumed the leadership of those who were old enough to be his father. Captured, at last, by the British, with his brother, he was subjected to the most cruel treatment. When, with characteristic spirit, he refused to perform some menial office for a British officer, he was dastardly cu~ down by the blow of a sabre, the mark of which was visible ever afterwards. A similar cruelty to his elder brother eventually produced his death. Closely confined in a British prison, Andrew contracted a disease from which he barely escaped with his life, and the effects of which were felt by him for many years after. It was whilst suffering with this disease, and nearly mad with fever and pain, that the young soldier, hearing that a battle was to be fought within view of the prison-windows, contrived, by the exertion of all his strength, to climb up the wall to a small port-hole, which comrnanled a view of the field of strife. It was thus the boy-warrior witnessed the first and only pitched battle that ever occurred under his observation previous to the events we are about to relate. This was the severely-contested battle of Camden, of which Jackson never failed to retain a clear, distinct, and vivid recollection. Such were the scenes and sufferings amid which the boyhood of Jackson was passed. It was a severe school, and its effects were quite perceptible in that staunch, unyielding spirit, heroic fortitude, and dauiitless resolution, which distinguished him through life. At the close of the Revolution, Jackson found himself alone in the world, the solitary survivor of a family, which twenty years before had left Ireland, with bright hopes of finding in the forests of America, a peaceful, happy home. These circumstances were well calculated to impart to the character of Jackson, that tinge of melancholy which it wore through life. This feel- ing of loneliness and keen sense of wrong, in the high-day of youth, broke out into reck less dissipation, which, however, was always redeemed and qualified by a spirit of generosity and chivalry. Conquering this tendency, after expending his patrimony. Jackson, with dauntless heart and iron will, threw himself among the hardy and reckless frontiersmen of Tennessee, and engaged in the perilous practice of law, at a time, and in a country, when and where a good eye, steady nerve, and prowess and courage in personal combat, were more essential to the success of a lawyer, than a knowledge of Coke and Blackstone. Jackson possessed these qualifications of sharp practice in an eminent degree. His professional career was a perilous and contentious one. It was better adapted to train and form the warrior than the jurisconsult. The courage, which had been so severely tested in the Revolution, was frequently required to repel the aggressions of those pesti- lent bullies, who always abound in frontier settlements. Through many dangerous conflicts, the impetuous young Carolinian had to fight his way to a position, which secured him the fear and awe of the disorderly, and the respect and confidence of the hardy settlers. Chivalrous and generous, as determined and ferocious, he was the leader in all enterprises to protect the weak and defenseless. Patriotic and high-t& ned, he was ever ready to risk 1856.] fackson~ and New- Orleans. 205 his life to maintain the laws of his country, and enforce justice and lawful authority. Thus the Sharp Knife and Pointed Arrow of the Indians, was not only a terror to the prowling aborigines, who hung around the set- tlements, but the even more ferocious frontiersmen, who straggled from more populous and better-organized districts, in the hope of getting beyond the reach of the law and justices and finding larger and safer fields for their deeds of violence and crime. Called by the people successively to the civil offices of member of the State Convention, Representative and Senator in Congress, and lastly Su- prerne Judge of the State, Jackson displayed in these positions, the same firm spirit and fearless courage, united with great sagacity, and that remark- able courtesy and impressiveness of manner, which excited so much surprise in alt persons, who never having before sen him, but familiar with his character and acts, were suddenly brought into his presence. The life and character, we have thus imperfectly described, clearly indi- cate the man who would be selected from a million for high military com- mand. His after-course, and how he grew to be the idol of the na- tion we all know. One thing connected with the defense of New-Orleans sustains the Democratic Party in its views and policy with regard to the adopted citizens of the Republic, and ought to bring the red blush of shame to the cheek of every man, whose cold heart and narrow judgment would lead him to support the designs of Know-Not/tingism, and assist in the unholy effort to disfranchise them. Speaking of the feeling in New-Orleans before the battle, Mr. Walker says: Besides, there was the prejudice and jealousy of races. The Americans distrusted the loyalty of the Creoles, and the Creoles could not believe that the new settlers would risk their lives for the defense of the soil whereon they had so recently pitched their tents. Both distrusted the foreign population, though it contributed some of the boldest and most efficient of the citys defenders. And what was the result~what the reality when the blast of war blew in their ears, and the foot of the invader desecrated ths soil of their adopted country! It contributed some of the boldest and most efficient American soldiers I Ay, Ameri- can to extremity ! as the bold Irish sentinel cried out when surrounded at midnight, and threatened with instant death if he did not declare to which party he belonged. Which party ye thief of the world ?American to extremity, and be to yez ! And so rely npon it, good dark lanterns, they will always be found Americans to extremity, when the crisis demands their blood as the seal of their loyalty to Freedom. In describing the circumstances attending the death of Gene- 2O~ Jackson and New-Orleans. [March, ral iRoss, the English Commander of the marauding force which harried the shores of the Potomac, and crowned the British name with undying infamy by the burning of Wash- ington, Mr. Walker is led into a slight mistake. He says: The circumstances of Ross death were very impressive, and to the Bri- tish disheartening. He was advancing upon Baltimore, along the banks of the Petapsco, with the same army, somewhat augmented in strength and numbers, with which he had fought at Bladensburg and captured Washing- ton, when his advance and flanking companies became engaged with some of the light infantry of the brigade of the American General Stryker. Capt. Aisquith, of the Baltimore Sharp-Shooters, a corps which still exists in that city, so famous for the efficiency and brilliancy of its volunteer military, had been thrown forward by Stryker to reconnoitre on the very road which he was pursuing. The Sharp-Shooters having scattered in small squads on either side of the road, became engaged with the British flank patrols, and quite a brisk firing ensued. Ross immediately rode to the front to observe the character of the at- tack, and had reached the most advanced party of his skirmishers, accom- panied by his aid, Major McDougal, when suddenly, as they reached the top of a slight hill in the road, two of Aisquiths Sharp-Shooters, H. G. McCo- mas and Daniel Wells, appeared before them, and coolly levelling their ri- fles, fired at the British. Ross was struck in the side and fell into the arms of his aid, who lifted the wounded General from his horse and laid him under a tree by the side of the road. The Generals horse, released from restraint, galloped wildly to the rear, carrying in his terrified aspect and blood-stained saddle the sad tidings to the British troops, who pressed forward in quick time, full of apprehension and grief. As soon as they perceived their Gene- ral fall, the British skirmishers rushed to the front and avenged his death by killing the two Sharp-Shooterswho met their fate like men, and were overwhelmed by superior numbers whilst gallantly fighting. Captain Edward Aisquith was not in the battle of North Point; nor in any other. Captain Aisquith was on sick leave, and at the request of Major William Pinckney, i~pencer Hough. ton Cone, then a 1st Lieutenant of Artillery, took command of Captain Aisquiths Company of Rifles, and fought it at North Point. He was ordered by the General to advance and feel the pulse of the enemy. Whilst performing the duty indi- cated his Company made the dash during which General IRoss was killed. A detailed account of the affair may be expected in Mr. Cones Memoirs, which are now in the press of Edward Livermore of this city. This, however, is an inaccuracy for which Mr. Walker is not accountable; as he could not become acquainted with the facts from the ordinary record. Any body belonging to the fighting 5th or 27th could have corrected him. We will not mar the interest of the well-told story by mak- ing any further extracts. The name of Andrew Jackson is 207 1856.] Songs and Ballads of tke Revolution. dear to a whole people, a people increasing in happiness and greatness by fidelity to the principles he placed more broadly before them, and defended more heroically than any other American patriot or statesman. His name is revered. Ene- mies and opponents to the living have forgotten their ant- inosity and unite to honor the dead. He is enshrined for ever in the heart of America, and men scarcely know which most to honor in himthe genius of the soldier, the wisdom of the politician, or the prophetic grasp of the sage. Mr. Walker of- fers a laurel at his tomb, and we thank him. Buy and read I Songs and Ballads of the American Revolution. With Notes and Illustrations by FRANK MOORE. New-York: D. Appleton & Co. Mn. MooRE has done a good work. The childhood of na- tions is their heroic age. The roar of the thunder is in the lullaby, with which the nurse, capable of handling him, stills the offspring of the Giants to his slumber. The verse of her ditty may be rough and irregular; it may want all the nicety and finish of a courtly and luxurious age; but it is ever a grand old song, and rises and falls upon the air with the fitful grandeur of a Saga, sung by some wild old Korse Rime- keller, singing to the storm a story of the battles of the gods. So the rough verses sung upon the march, and around the camp fire of the continental army, are the wild lullaby of the Giant child, nursed in storms, whose glorious purposes short- sighted tyranny so early endowed with words of wisdom and liberty. Mr. Moore says in his preface: All that we can claim for the writers of these songs, is a manifest spirit of devotion to the cause, and defiance to its enemies. The poesy of their productions is meagre. They did not write for fame; but, in the language of one of the most honest and homely of them, from a great desire to state the truth, and their opinion of it, in a quiet way, just set their poetical lathes a-turning, and twisted out ballads and songs for the good of the com- mon cause. We differ with him in opinion. The poesy of their produc- tions can not justly be called meagre. Delicacy of touch, a

Songs and Ballads of the Revolution 207-212

207 1856.] Songs and Ballads of tke Revolution. dear to a whole people, a people increasing in happiness and greatness by fidelity to the principles he placed more broadly before them, and defended more heroically than any other American patriot or statesman. His name is revered. Ene- mies and opponents to the living have forgotten their ant- inosity and unite to honor the dead. He is enshrined for ever in the heart of America, and men scarcely know which most to honor in himthe genius of the soldier, the wisdom of the politician, or the prophetic grasp of the sage. Mr. Walker of- fers a laurel at his tomb, and we thank him. Buy and read I Songs and Ballads of the American Revolution. With Notes and Illustrations by FRANK MOORE. New-York: D. Appleton & Co. Mn. MooRE has done a good work. The childhood of na- tions is their heroic age. The roar of the thunder is in the lullaby, with which the nurse, capable of handling him, stills the offspring of the Giants to his slumber. The verse of her ditty may be rough and irregular; it may want all the nicety and finish of a courtly and luxurious age; but it is ever a grand old song, and rises and falls upon the air with the fitful grandeur of a Saga, sung by some wild old Korse Rime- keller, singing to the storm a story of the battles of the gods. So the rough verses sung upon the march, and around the camp fire of the continental army, are the wild lullaby of the Giant child, nursed in storms, whose glorious purposes short- sighted tyranny so early endowed with words of wisdom and liberty. Mr. Moore says in his preface: All that we can claim for the writers of these songs, is a manifest spirit of devotion to the cause, and defiance to its enemies. The poesy of their productions is meagre. They did not write for fame; but, in the language of one of the most honest and homely of them, from a great desire to state the truth, and their opinion of it, in a quiet way, just set their poetical lathes a-turning, and twisted out ballads and songs for the good of the com- mon cause. We differ with him in opinion. The poesy of their produc- tions can not justly be called meagre. Delicacy of touch, a 208 Song8 and Ballads of i~he ]?evolutzom. [March, classical purity of diction, or hio imaginative excellence may be perhaps looked for, in vain, in them. But the thoughts which a song suggests often give it a poetic power, which all these combined would fail to do ;and yet, the verse itself may be plain and rude. What, for instance, can be more care less than the opening of the old ballad of Robin Hood and the Monk: In somer when the shawes be sheyne, And leves be large and longe, Hit is falle inery in feyre forest To here the foulys song. To see the dere draw to the dale, And leve the hilles hee, And shadow him in the leve~ grene Vndur the greene wode tree. Or the Lytell Geste of Robin lode : Lithe and lysten, gentylmen, That be of frebore blode; I shall you tell of a good yemi~n, His name was Robyn lode. Robin was a proude outlawe, Whyles he walked on grounde, So courteyse an outlawe as he was one Was never none yfounde. Robin stode in Bernysdale, And lened him to a tre, And by him stode Lytell John, A good yem~n was he. What rougher ?What smelling less of the lamp, and yet how odorous of the summer under the greenwood tree! How the whole picture of the free foresters life, and the romantic age of merry England flashes out from them upon the sight. It is not so much the words of the ballads theThselves, as the fresh vigor and heartiness of the time they present. They are as a door leading into scenes amongst which the fancy of the reader runs riot. They are not self-contained, nor do they confine you within themselves. rliheir very want of finish, and naPe prattle is their charm. We open the door, and step out of the present, clipped and hedged with conventionalities, into the painful order of a Dutch garden, back again, to a past picturesque wild disorderedpoetic. They call it all up 1866.] Songs and Ballads of tke Revolution. 209 for us; they are the magicians at whose beck the shadows of knight and ladye, outlawe and friar, swordsman, swashbuck- icr and lanzknecht, come trooping before the minds eye. So the rough song and ballad of revolutionary times sum- mon before us the spirits of the noble army of martyrs in the cause of freedom. From Bunker Hill to Yorktown, the pano- rama of battle and retreat moves on before us. We see the brave fellows tracking with bleeding feet the cold snow of the hills, the sharp ice of the frozen rivers. We hear their glo- rious voices ringing out the refrain of the rough ditty rough but inspiritingaround the camp-fire. That noble old face, which hangs upon the wall there opposite us, see msto look down upon us as we write, with a smile of pleasure, that these things are not forgotten by his children; that the songs which cheered rhany a weary march, and solaced him and his compatriots under trial and privation, are yet household words in the homes of America, and that his children thank God that his blood runs in their veins. These songs shall never be forgotten. Says Joel Barlow on entering the army: I do not know, whether I shall do more for the cause in the capacity of chaplain, than I could in that of poet; I have great faith in the influence of songs; and shall continue, while fulfilling the duties of my appointment, to write one now and then, and to encourage the taste for them which I find in the camp. One good song is worth a dozen addresses or proclamations.* Joel was prophet as well as preacher. Ladies, too, as well as preachers, owned the divinity of the cause of freedom, and offered their muse, and pet Bohea, on the same patriotic shrine, as appears by the following: Many urgent appeals to the people of the different colonies were made after the destruction of the tea at Boston, calling upon them to abstain from the use of all imported commodities, and to confine themselves to the fra- grant herbs and other productions of their own fields and forests. The fol- lowing poetical one was written by a young lady, of whom all that is known is, that she was a native of Virginia, endowed with all the graces of a cul- tivated mind, pleasant external qualities, and a model of patriotism worthy the emulation of many more conspicuous. VIRGINIA BANISHING TEA. Begone, pernicious, baneful tea, With all Pandoras ills possessed, flyson, no more beguiled by theej- My noble sons shall be oppressed. * Curiosities of American Literature, by Rufus W. Griswold. j. Hyson, no more beguiied by thee. These appeals, very generally, had the desired effects. Some, however, of the more ancient and decaido females, could not 15 210 Songs and Ballads of the Revolution. [March, To Britain fly, where gold enslaves, And venal men their birth-right sell; Tell North and his bribed clan of knaves, Their bloody acts were made in hell. In Henrys reign those acts began, Which sacred rules of justice broke; North now pursues the heUish plan, To fix on us his slavish yoke. But we oppose, and will be free, This great good cause we will defend; Nor bribe, nor Gage, nor Norths decree, Shall make us at his feet to bend. From Anglias ancient sons we came; Those heroes who for freedom fought; In freedoms cause well march; their fame, By their example greatly taught. Our king we love, but North we hate, Nor will to him submission own; If deaths our doom, well brave our fate, But pay allegiance to the throne. Then rouse, my sons! from slavery free Your suffering homes; from Gods high wrath; Gird on your steel; give liberty To all who follow in our path. Not so smooth, but full of the spirit of the time, and of sen- timents worthy to be imitated and cherished through all time of the Republic is this: and The defiance and devotion expressed in these verses, are an excellent illus- tration of the spirit of the times, in which they were written. The author, Dr. Jonathan Mitchell Sewall,* of New-Hampshire, composed many poems and patriotic songs. His ode of War and Washington is familiar to every one. deny themselves the pleasing stimulant, and it was their custom to take a wee drop clandestinely. The following is one of many anecdotes concerning these quiet solacements. A lady of Virginia, being in opulent circumstances, invited a party of her female acquaintances to pass an evening with her in a private room up stairs, where they were to regale themselves with a dish of the forbidden tea. But the husband of the lady, inferring, from the appearance of affairs, what was going on, quietly stole up stairs and slipped a piece of tobacco into the tea-kettle. The consequence was, the ladies all went home most terribly disturbed and uncer- tain; while the old gentleman enjoyed himself patriotically, at their expense.~~~ * Jonathaa LW. Sewall was born in 1149. Being adopted by his uncle Chief- Justice Stephen Sewall of Massachusetts, he studied law, and in 1114 wns Register of Probate for Grafton County, N. H. He afterwards removed to Portsmouth, where he died March 29, 15O5.A~lens Biographical Dictionary. 211 1856.] Son~e and Ballads of the Revolution. ~0N INDEPENDENCE. Come all you brave soldiers, both valiant and free, Its for Independence we all now agree; Let us gird on our swords and prepare to defend, Our liberty, property, ourselves and our friends. In a cause thats so righteous, come let us agree, And from hostile invaders set America free; The cause is so glorious we need not to fear, But from merciless tyrants well set ourselves clear. Heavens blessing attending us no tyrant shall say, That Americans eer to such monsters gave way; But fighting well die in America~s cause, Before well submit to tyrannical laws. George the Third of Great Britain, no more shall he reign, With unlimited sway oer these free States again; Lord North, nor old Bute, nor none of their clan, Shall ever be honored by an American. May Heavens blessings descend upon our United States, And grant that the Union may never abate; May love, peace, and harmony, ever be found, For to go hand in hand America round. Upon our grand Congress may Heaven bestow Both wisdom and skill our good to pursue; On Heaven alone dependent well be, But from all earthly tyrants we mean to be free. Unto our brave Generals may Heaven give skill, Our armies to guide, and the sword for to wield; May their hands taught to war, and their fingers to fight, Be able to put British armies to flight. And now, brave Americans, since it is so, That we are independent, well have them to know That united we are, and united well be, And from all British tyrants well try to keep free. May Heaven smile on us in all our endeavors, Safe guard our seaports, our towns, and our rivers, Keep us from invaders by land and by sea, And from all whod deprive us of our liberty. Our space warns us from the subject. It is one over which we love to linger, and the only thing we have to regret about Mr. Moores collection is that it is not larger and more compre 212 The Lady of ililonteabel. [March, hensive. It is, however, a good beginning, and we hope will be the cause of a larger collection and a more thorough anti- quarian research amongst the remains of the unnamed poets and heroes of that honored time. THE LADY OF MONTOABEL. HENRY III. was for a short time the idol of France. The first years of his reign promised a whole romance of chivalry. Many illusions were dispelled before Paris changed from praise to satire; before that insurrection of pasquinades, which transformed the walls of the city, where invisible hands wrote them by night and even by day, into a thousand echoes of public contempt. These pasquinades seemed to seek him, by preference in his bigoted pablic religious ceremonies. What a spectacle was presented when the king, barefooted, a chaplet of deaths- heads in his hands, and clothed in penitential garb, led long processions in personreligious masquerades, which succeeded beneath the eyes of the same people the scarcely-ended mas- querade of a licentious carnival. But let us leave to others a past, which, to the epoch about which I write, was yet a future. I treat of that young, valiant, graceful Henry, the idol of beauty; of that Henry wearing his ladys colors in the midst of chivalric jousts and tournaments, which he loved as well as the battle-field. There, at least, in- stead of caustic verses, the trophies of the tourney offered to his pleased sight escutcheons, where in the midst of flowers, his cipher shone between the two consecrated words, love and honor It was the beginning of summer. Henry had just quitted the Louvre for the shady retreats of Fontaineblean, where Mar- garet had prepared for him knightly entertainment. For some time the lines of deep care had marked his brow, but not that stern care, the bitter fruit of royalty. Its true cause was shrewdly guessed by the Court. Ambassadors had

The Lady of Montcabel 212-218

212 The Lady of ililonteabel. [March, hensive. It is, however, a good beginning, and we hope will be the cause of a larger collection and a more thorough anti- quarian research amongst the remains of the unnamed poets and heroes of that honored time. THE LADY OF MONTOABEL. HENRY III. was for a short time the idol of France. The first years of his reign promised a whole romance of chivalry. Many illusions were dispelled before Paris changed from praise to satire; before that insurrection of pasquinades, which transformed the walls of the city, where invisible hands wrote them by night and even by day, into a thousand echoes of public contempt. These pasquinades seemed to seek him, by preference in his bigoted pablic religious ceremonies. What a spectacle was presented when the king, barefooted, a chaplet of deaths- heads in his hands, and clothed in penitential garb, led long processions in personreligious masquerades, which succeeded beneath the eyes of the same people the scarcely-ended mas- querade of a licentious carnival. But let us leave to others a past, which, to the epoch about which I write, was yet a future. I treat of that young, valiant, graceful Henry, the idol of beauty; of that Henry wearing his ladys colors in the midst of chivalric jousts and tournaments, which he loved as well as the battle-field. There, at least, in- stead of caustic verses, the trophies of the tourney offered to his pleased sight escutcheons, where in the midst of flowers, his cipher shone between the two consecrated words, love and honor It was the beginning of summer. Henry had just quitted the Louvre for the shady retreats of Fontaineblean, where Mar- garet had prepared for him knightly entertainment. For some time the lines of deep care had marked his brow, but not that stern care, the bitter fruit of royalty. Its true cause was shrewdly guessed by the Court. Ambassadors had 1856.] [like Lady of 3lfontcabel. 213 even written about it to their cabinets, as an affair of state. lit was one in truth. It concerned a quarrel between two high and mighty powersthe king and his mistress. The day of the tourney arrived, dark and cloudy, a day of sadness rather than of joyous sports. Soon the only light came from the flash of the lightning, so black was the sky, and all nature seemed mute with terror ex- cept when the thunder spoke. Margaret became as gloomy .as the weather. The sports had to be adjourned. Ennuied to death, she wished to fly to her brother; but he had shut himself up in his cabinet. She inquired if he was with his ministers. She was told he had not required their t~ttendance. She ventured another question, and was informed that no re- conciliation had yet taken place. Her curiosity increased, and taking the surest way of satisfying it, she entered her brothers apartments. A sister may cross the sill which bars out princes and counts. She perceived her brother standing close to the window, against which the rain was beating. With one of the diamonds from his flnger,he was writing on a pane of glass in the window. Two Italian greyhounds couched at his feet, they had taken the place of his court. At the sound of Margarets footsteps, Henry, slightly confused, hastily dropped the silken curtain which he held raised in his hand. What treason is this, my lord and master ? said Margaret. Why hide from me, what yoa were looking at; may I not look, too? It is even as you say, Sister of Valois; I am hiding a trea- son from you as I would from all others. She insisted upon seeing; the king persevered in his refusal to permit her. A spirited, playful, and amicable altercation ensued. Margaret, however, conquered. Henry, the squire of dames, his sister certainly not excepted, could not but yield, and that with a good grace. Retiring from the window, he seated himself on a large oaken settee, leaving Margaret, mis- tress of the conquered territory, to raise the curtain at her pleasure. A gay smile danced in the sisters eyes, whilst the brother wore a serious and sad look. What is this ? said Margaret, on seeing some verses traced by Henrys hand. I never knew you for a poet, sire; but it seems a noble desire to imitate in all things, our royal an- cestor Francis First, of great renown, burns in your bosom. As for him, so window-panes serve you instead of tablets. Let us see. Ah! But this is a crime of lese-majesty against wo- man. 214 The Lady of Montcal)el. [iMiarch, And she read the following verses: Gentle ladies you have charms, Velvet brow and love-lit eye, Fray or tourney calls to arms Knights that for your glances die. But one stain your beauties bear, Able all your worth to spot, Were you fairest of the fair You swear oaths which you keep not. Treasonous words, methinksa distich which might be made more just, and not less piquant. A slight alteration would suffice. Listen, noble Sire de Yalois, and she imme- diately wrote underneath: Gentle ladies, when your charms Loud-voiced man, with flaming eye, Vaunts amid the clang of arms, Oh! distrust his flattering lies. To amuse these heartless things At the best is womans lot, And their falsehood pleasure brings, Swearing oaths which they keep not. I regret that the window is not of large enough dimen- ~ions to contain at least a hundred stories of mans incon- stancy, which would all confirm by incontestable facts, the truth of my rhyme. I can conceive, sister mine, that it needs a hundred at least to prove our inconstancy; for me, I shall be convinced of the constancy of woman, if you can furnish me with a single in- stance of a faithful woman. But I am in a gloomy mood, sis- ter of Valois, let us quit this subject of constancy and infi- delity, it is too tiresome a one. No, no; my sex shall not thus be accused of a fickle na- ture, without my defending them. I, too, am comprised in your distich, for it is general in its slander. So, seriously, and to lay aside our rhyming, can your Majesty cite the incon- stancy of a single dame of high degree, one I mean truly no- ble and reported worthy of her name Not even Eleonore of Montcabel, said the king. The words awakened a sorrowful recollection. Eleonore had been brought up in Marguerites own household. She was the loveliest and most virtuous of her ladies of honor, and the one on whom she most relied. Before her marriage with the Lord of Montcabel, she had been long and tenderly loved by him. 1856.] The Lady of Alonteabel. 215 Their nuptials were celebrated joyously; but fortune proved more cruel than love. A year afterwards, the young husband was accused of having traitorously surrendered to the rebels a fortress confided to his honor and his sword. A terrible sen- tence fell upon him. He was condemned to lose for ever that chief of blessingsliberty. Eleonore appeared inconsolable; she came often to the dungeon where lay her captive husband. Forced, sometimes, to appear at Court, her sufferings were en- hanced by the scorn her husbands treason excited amongst the courtiers, aid the anger of the kino- T b~ his anger was not directed against herself the innocent wife of a criminal spouse; no, truly, the king sought, on the contrary, to console her by marked attention. All at once Eleonore disappeared. Report tarnished her chaste renown. It was said that she had secretly quitted France, carrying with her valuable jewels, and galloping away in amorous companionship with her young page Isoel of iRha- boul. Marguerite, deeply wounded by this adventure, com- manded that her name should never again be mentioned be- fore her. Rallied by her brother, and piqued at his seeking amongst her own ladies his proof of infidelity, she felt obliged to espouse the cause of Eleonore. She declared, therefore, that she did not believe her criminal. In the warmth of her de- fense, she even went so far as to undertake to furnish, within a month, irrefragable proofs of her innocence. Take care, sister, Isoel the page is a gentle mignion. To a soldiers glance he joins fair ladys smile. A wager ! replied Marguerite. If I lose, let your ungal- lant verses be inscribed on my tomb as my epitaph; if I win If you win, said Henry; I will break that glass of my window, and grant you whatever boon you ask. We pledge our royal word for it. This wager was an event. The minstrels sang it through- out Ia belle France. Marguerite caused it to be proclaimed by the sound of the trumpet, in castle and town, rich recom- pense to him who could afford information which would throw any light upon the mysterious flight of Eleonore. Useless ef- fort: the month drew near its close, and Marguerite had dis- covered nothing. Willingly, to take back her promise, or draw her wager, would she have given her royal brother ten of her bounding jennets, which beneath the skies of Beam, loved to plunge in the foamy torrents. 216 RAe Lady of iVlontca6el. [March, On the evening of the last day, it was announced to Mar- guerite, that the jailer of the prison where the Lord of Mont- cabel was incarcerated, asked audience of her. She granted it. He came to announce to her, that the Lord of Monteabel of- fered to show her how to win her wager, if to the number of conditions she would have the right to exact from her royal adversary, she would add his own liberty, and the favor of being allowed to throw himself at the feet of his irritated master. Marguerite was overjoyed; she promised every thing, for Henry had promised in advance to accord every thing. What happier denouement could she hope? In gain. ing her wager, she satisfied her self-love; and, besides, Mar- guerite was not of a character to regret that her victory should also be the occasion of a good action. That evening Henry was in excellent humor. In the morn- ing a cavalier, with battered armor, arrived crying: Thanks be to God! Victory 1 Guise, the pillar of the Church, had, at cost of the scar which afterwards gave him the nick-name of Le Balafre, overcome the forces gathered for the defense of heresy. Such were the news which caused the kings heart to beat. In the dispatches, full of the recital of gallant feats of arms, it was said that the messenger, who was described by no other name, had borne the most brilliant part. Henry, charmed with his bravery, loaded him with presents, caressed him, and called him the flower of chivalry,regretting all the while, that a secret vow forbade the young victor to raise his ~izor, and de- clare his name. This vow Henry respected. Whether made to God or the ladies, in the eyes of the monarch, a vow was equally sacred. Towards evening, just as the sun, striking with its last rays the window-pane upon which the satiric quatrain was written, seemed to delight in gilding it with a thousand fires, Henry found himself seated in the same oaken chair he occupied at the moment of making the wager. Standing beside him, her eyes full of her approaching triumph, Marguerite seemed a sovereign about to dictate her conditions. Sure that they would be all fulfilled; that the king, a slave to his word, would refuse nothingshe had anticipated his orders, and had the prisoner in waiting. Henry informed by her what she had done, ~onsented to see him, eager to learn by what proof the innocence of Eleonore could be established. Guarded by men-at-arms the prisoner was led in. When he 1856.] The Lady of illontcabel. 217 came near the king he knelt, and uncovered his face which had been concealed. Long and lovely hair fell upon the shoulderslarge blue eyes were timidly raised to the monarchs, who cried out: Ha! There is treason here. Jailer, your head shall an- swer for it. Alas! sire, condemn him not I said the sweet and trem- bling voice of Eleonore, for it was she; more vigilant than he have been deceived by woman. Monteabel, my husband and my lord, was not guilty of the crime for which he has suffered so much. But you were angry, sire, and it was ne- cessary to persuade you. In this hope, Monteabel resolved to go and, under Guise, combat your enemiesagainst them to pour forth his blood for the glory of your crown. Aided by Isoel, my page, whose address is equal to his courage, I fa- vored the escape of my husband. The jailor, an old soldier, moved by pity, consented to keep me as a hostage for the re- turn of his prisoner. Monteabel has kept his word; your enemies are defeated; your crown has acquired new glory. The gallant knight who this morning placcd in your Majestys hands the dispatches from the Duke de Guise glittering leaves for your history he whom you loaded with honors and with praise, is the Lord of Monteabel! I awaited till by his gallant deeds he proved his innocence, for traitors are never brave; then I confessed all to my noble mistress, your sister. Beau-Sire, has she not won her wager? And the boon she asks Is the pardon of the Lord of Monteabel, said Marguerite, with difficulty hiding her proud joy. My noble brother, you should, to-day, pardon a loyal knight, and punish a dis- courteous poet. Henry before replying rose, and bidding the Lady of Mont- cabel to leave her suppliant attitude, broke, with the pommel of his sword, the lying glass, and then, turning to Marguerite, said, with a smile which more than balanced the verses: Sister, you have a happy hand. Noble lady, he con- tinued, addressing Eleonore, you who are beautiful as the loveliest star of heaven, accept this enameled ring; it is of marvellous workmanship. Preserve it in memory of this ad- venture, and of your king. A Jew sold it me whilst I was in my kingdom of Poland. It belonged first to a young widow who died of grief upon the grave of her husband. The Jew bought it as a curiosity; it shall be for you the badge of vir- tue, as well as an ornament. Its dark blue will enhance the 218 The Pkilo~ophy of Lffe. [March, whiteness of your hand. As to the jailer, I will pardon him, in order not to derogate from custom in such cases; but I will take care to choose no more old soldiers for such posts. We must have no turnkeys with tender hearts,we might as well send our prisoners the keys of their cells at once. A tournament celebrated the triumph of Marguerite. Henry desired it. Conquered, he was as generous as a conqueror, and was the hero of his own defeat. The flower of Frances clii. valry adorned the scene, and offered their knightly homage to womans virtue and a wifes devotion in the person of the lovely Lady of Montcabel. THE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. BY C. G. ROSENBRRG. THE PROEX[ I. tip, like warrior blithe and ready, Up! my soul! For battle gird thee Never greater field was set. Gaze with honest eye and steady, Never terror yet deterred thee, Never hast thou trembled yet. II. Giant toil thy strength is asking, Mighty enemies swarm round thee Selfishness and subtle wrong, Human crime thy courage tasking, Guilt which formerly has bound thee, Brawny lie and falsehood strong.

C. G. Rosenberg Rosenberg, C. G. The Philosophy of Life. The Proem 218-219

218 The Pkilo~ophy of Lffe. [March, whiteness of your hand. As to the jailer, I will pardon him, in order not to derogate from custom in such cases; but I will take care to choose no more old soldiers for such posts. We must have no turnkeys with tender hearts,we might as well send our prisoners the keys of their cells at once. A tournament celebrated the triumph of Marguerite. Henry desired it. Conquered, he was as generous as a conqueror, and was the hero of his own defeat. The flower of Frances clii. valry adorned the scene, and offered their knightly homage to womans virtue and a wifes devotion in the person of the lovely Lady of Montcabel. THE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. BY C. G. ROSENBRRG. THE PROEX[ I. tip, like warrior blithe and ready, Up! my soul! For battle gird thee Never greater field was set. Gaze with honest eye and steady, Never terror yet deterred thee, Never hast thou trembled yet. II. Giant toil thy strength is asking, Mighty enemies swarm round thee Selfishness and subtle wrong, Human crime thy courage tasking, Guilt which formerly has bound thee, Brawny lie and falsehood strong. 1856.] The Philosophy of Life. 219 H. Up! the only weapon taking From the armory within thee With an edge no mail can turn Faith, thy sword and buckler making, The only spoil worth having win thee, Cleanliness of conscience earn. T 0 I L. (LABOR AND HARVEST.) No. I. SHORT the hour for tear or sleep, Keep thine hand upon the plough; Toil must neither dream nor weep, Harvest comes by sweat of brow. Ever look towards the light, Tarry thou no friend to greet; Willful sleep is wakeless night, Earnest act has tireless feet Search for eversearchers find; Ask for everaskers win: Only lazy eye is blind, Want of will alone is sin.

C. G. Rosenberg Rosenberg, C. G. The Philosophy of Life. Toil (Labor and Harvest) 219-220

1856.] The Philosophy of Life. 219 H. Up! the only weapon taking From the armory within thee With an edge no mail can turn Faith, thy sword and buckler making, The only spoil worth having win thee, Cleanliness of conscience earn. T 0 I L. (LABOR AND HARVEST.) No. I. SHORT the hour for tear or sleep, Keep thine hand upon the plough; Toil must neither dream nor weep, Harvest comes by sweat of brow. Ever look towards the light, Tarry thou no friend to greet; Willful sleep is wakeless night, Earnest act has tireless feet Search for eversearchers find; Ask for everaskers win: Only lazy eye is blind, Want of will alone is sin. 220 The Chronicles of Persepolis. [March, THE CHRONICLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE YEARS IN THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN-FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. BY MR. QUIGG. CHLPTER BI~TH BULL-BAITING IN THE JERSIES. THE next morning Mr. Jones Cartwright returned to New- York with a severe headache, and a melancholy conviction that IRougemont was one of the fastest places of the age. The fine china was put carefully away; the chairs resumed their slip-covers; the parlor-hearth grew cold; the windows were shut up, and the whole place, recovered from its passing lIt of social insanity, settled back into its accustomed air of gloomy desolation. It was not long, however, before the genius of the place, whom I verily believe to have been the king of the Cobalds, from his delight in mischief; brought about a state of things which substituted the stirring events of a battle-piece, for the disgusting Sameness and platitude of our ordinary still- life. Every body knows that New-Jersey stands in the same re- lationship to the United States as Berwick-upon-Tweed to the United Kingdom of England, Ireland, and Scotland. It is in the United States, but not of them. It is a little principality of itself; and is generally known as the Kingdom of New- Jersey. No statutes extend to it, unless it be expressly mentioned. in them; and even when they do extend, they are stretched so very thin as to be almost impalpable, anywhere within its limits, and monstrous easily seen through. New-Jersey is 8U~ genei-is, the suz2 meaning, in connection, sue you for two. pence half-penny two minutes over due, and just two-pence over-charged-invariably. In proof of which interesting cha- racteristic of tbe Jersey nation, I must one day tell the story

Mr. Quigg Quigg, Mr. Chronicles of Persepolis; or, Five Years in the Life of a Gentleman-Farmer in the Kingdom of New-Jersey 220-228

220 The Chronicles of Persepolis. [March, THE CHRONICLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE YEARS IN THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN-FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. BY MR. QUIGG. CHLPTER BI~TH BULL-BAITING IN THE JERSIES. THE next morning Mr. Jones Cartwright returned to New- York with a severe headache, and a melancholy conviction that IRougemont was one of the fastest places of the age. The fine china was put carefully away; the chairs resumed their slip-covers; the parlor-hearth grew cold; the windows were shut up, and the whole place, recovered from its passing lIt of social insanity, settled back into its accustomed air of gloomy desolation. It was not long, however, before the genius of the place, whom I verily believe to have been the king of the Cobalds, from his delight in mischief; brought about a state of things which substituted the stirring events of a battle-piece, for the disgusting Sameness and platitude of our ordinary still- life. Every body knows that New-Jersey stands in the same re- lationship to the United States as Berwick-upon-Tweed to the United Kingdom of England, Ireland, and Scotland. It is in the United States, but not of them. It is a little principality of itself; and is generally known as the Kingdom of New- Jersey. No statutes extend to it, unless it be expressly mentioned. in them; and even when they do extend, they are stretched so very thin as to be almost impalpable, anywhere within its limits, and monstrous easily seen through. New-Jersey is 8U~ genei-is, the suz2 meaning, in connection, sue you for two. pence half-penny two minutes over due, and just two-pence over-charged-invariably. In proof of which interesting cha- racteristic of tbe Jersey nation, I must one day tell the story 1856.] The Chronicles of Persepolis. 221 of Smithers bill for blacksmithing, which I had the pleasure of paying twice over, with costs of court. Smithers was the defendant in the celebrated action of Bivins vs. Smithers, as- sault and battery, accompanied with killingcanine murder in which I made my first legal appearance in the charming village of Persepolis. Smithers bill, however, was no particu- lar exception to the general rule. In fact, the Jersey rule of law, that a tradesman, having sworn to his book-account, of- fers indisputable evidence of his customers indebtedness, to the amount upon his bo~s, when he offers the said books in evidence in the Court for the Trial of Small Causes, opens as delightful a highway, turnpike, macadamized road to top- swindling at a three-minute gait, as can well be imagined. For it is a fact, which seems to have escaped that dear Fourier, and his brother socialists, communists and human-perfection philosophers, that tradesmen, especially in the shady places of rural virtue, are apt to twist the good old proverb of a penny saved, etc.into the more convenient formula of a penny swindled is a penny earned. A tendency which strikes us as decidedly hostile to the success of associated effort, unless the other questionable formula of honor among thieves be graft- ed into the constitution and organic structure of the phalanxes. In fact, I found the smug-faced community of Persepolis, in the matter of bills, a perfect flock of wood-cock, and never walked outside of my own fence without flushing a village- bird, and having his premonitory elongation thrust into my face. But of that hereafter. I am about to relate circumstances quorum magnct parsfui circumstances in which I found myself thrown, not only upon both horns of a dilemma, but came monstrous near go- ing on to the horns of the worst bull in the county. My farm, which consisted of about one hundred and twen- ty-five acres, abutted immediately upon the village of Persepo- lis. In fact, two small frame-houses which stood upon the north-east corner of it, facing the turnpike, were the last houses at that end of the village. I rented them, by the way, to two industrious and enterprising citizens of Persepolis, from whom I was supposed to receive a hundred dollars a year. Twelve dollars lawful currency of the State of New-Jersey, consisting of two Plainfleld five-dollar notes, and one Delaware Bridge two, were however the entire proceeds of three years from the said eligible two-story frame dwelling-houses, and the enter- prising citizens who honored me by occupying them for that length of time. 222 f/ike Chronicles of Persepolis. [March, Something may have grown upon the farm when it was new, that is, at a period anterior to the memory of the oldest inhabitant; but T never met any one who remembered seeing any thing there, except wild onions and mullen stalks. I could find my way home the darkest night that blew by merely follow- ing my nose. So could any body, indeed, for that matter, for your eyes began to water at the distance of a quarter of a mile. The only plant I found upon the place upon moving there to take possession, and turn myself into a bold yoe- man, was the house. I bought a farm, and it turned out nothing but a house after all. Like Slender, I cried mum,~~ however, and although the sweet Ann Page of rural availabi- lity had slipped through my fingers, and left nothing but a great lubberly bank of red-shale, I shrugged my shoulders and waited for the chance of encountering a greater fool than my- self; and selling at an advance. Luckily, after five years of patient suffering, I found him. The house, and that really was a great comfort after all, was a very fine one; an imposing Grecian edifice, slightly in the tea- box and awning-post style of architecture, but very imposing, and well off for pillars. One of the pillars, by the way, was never finished: but that gave an agreeable variety to the front view of the edificeand I never altered it. The farm had been entirely mortgaged, up to the hub, to pay for the house, and the owner sold me to pay the mortgages. One part of the farm, however, was really beautiful, as well as valuable, and that was the wood-land. There were twenty-five acres of it lying in a rich bottom, through the middle of which ran one of the loveliest brooks in the world. Variable, however, in its temper and in its size, it was in the morning a peaceful, purling rill of water, thriddingits way slowly among the great old trees, and at night, swollen by the storm, of which we could hear the footsteps on the mountains, and not unfre- quently caught a good sound box-o-the-ear from nearer by it would spread out to fifty or a hundred feet in breadth, and go rushing to the river turbid and violent, sweeping every thing in the shape of rails or gates before it, and, considering its short life, kicking up a great bobbery, and making a great deal of noise in the world. Adjoining my wood-land, and only separated from it by a parti-fence, which it was our duty mutually to keep in order, and which, of course, was never kept in order, but furnished as delightful a bone of contention as a country-gentleman ever pickedwas another piece of wood-land, belonging to an anti- 1856.] The Chronicles of Per8epo~tb. 223 quated comicality, named Richard Dyscampbetter known, however, in the neighborhood as Son-in-law Dicky. Poor old Dicky! his title was dearly earned, He had been a man of substance in his middle age, and had grown fat himself by melting fat for others. In short, he had been a soap-boiler. His kettle, however, ran over. iDyscamp failed. He returned to live with his mother-in-law, a terrible old shrew. His wife died, and, at an advanced age, penniless, except what little he derived from the old lady, he was cast upon her tender mercies, and became a kind of great watch-dog, prowling from sunrise until sunset from one end of her farm, which was a very fine one, to the other; and whenever beyond the fear of her small gray eye, and sharp nose, resuming a good deal of the import- ance once familiar to the gait and countenance of the thriving man of soap and candles, and setting up for a little while again for the best sperm, instead of a poor old dip which had half run away and flared fitfully and agucishly in its socket at her very breath. That same fickle brawling brook ran through Mother-in-law iDyscamps wood-land as well as mine. At the place where it left the one to enter the other the ground pre- sented very unfortunate obstacles to fencing. On one side, it rose up in a very high and steep bank, and on the other, it sunk away in an oozy fiat, or piece of wood-meadow. The stream, too, was wider here, in its most placid moods, than at any other point; and here it was necessary there should be a gate. The bottom of the creek or brook was rocky. You could not sink a post-hole in it at all. You could not, there- fore, make a fence across. On the bank side, however, there grew close down to the water a gigantic old shell-bark hickory. Into this hickory we drove enormous staples, and planting a post on the opposite side, in the ooze, where we bolstered it up with piles of stone, we swung between them a great gate so constructed as to float on the surface of the water when it rose from a sudden storm. Unfortunately, alas! the storm, three times out of four, was stronger than the staples; and gate, chains, and, not seldom, post also, xvent sailing away, at the first dash, down with the angry stream. This was the more unfortunate, as that severe old mother-in-law kept always about fifty head of cattle in the woods-pasture there for at least six months in the year. The result, of course, was that every storm, when the gate went away, it not only poured metaphori- cal cats and dogs on the best fields of my farm, but it literally rained oxen, cows, and calves. 1 bore it meekly for some time, and might have gone on bearing and expostulating, mending 224 Jhe Chronicles of Perse2olis. [March, and gate-hanging for an indefinite length of time, but one un- fortunate day iDyscamp went into a little speculation of his own in potential tallow. He bought a bullthe ucrliest bull mortal eyes ever saw. A short, sci~ubby, thick-necked, long. tailed, duck-legged, twisted-horned little monster, with the strength of a whole herd, and the viciousness of Satan himself. That bull chased me. I was up to my knees in mud and water, and up to my throat with spleen, setting up that horrible post, when I heard sometl~iing slush, slush, a little way from me. I looked around, and there he came, tail in air, and eyes on me, floundering through the water of the brook. To say I dropped that post, would give a very faint idea of the suddenness with which I abandoned my occupation. How I got there, I do not know to this day; but immediately, if not sooner, I found my. self seated on a branch of the shell-bark hickory over the brook, with my friend, the bull, occupying the position of a sentry on guard, standing up to his belly in the brook below me, and jerking his head up at me with an insinuating twist in either horn, as much as to say, whichever you please, my dear, drop on either. The appearance of some of the farm- hands relieved me shortly from my ridiculous position, but that bull and I were enemies for ever. My amour propre was ex- ceedingly wounded, and I vowed his annihilation. An oppor- tunity to wreak a full revenge was not long deferred. I awoke one morning, and looked abroad on my favorite corn-field. It was a desert. That bull had thrown down the fence and led the whole herd to pasture for a night upon my best crop. The iest had strayed away; but he, gorinandising beast that he was had gorged himself to repletion, and, too lazy to follow them, stood flicking the flies from his haunches with that diabolical long tufted tail of his. My resolution was taken. I could bear no more. The crisis of that bulls fate, or mine, had arrived. One of us must be immolated. One of us must succumb. I called my brother-in-law; who, by the way, poor infatuated infidel, af- terwards bought a farm of his own, about nine miles distant from mine ;but thereby hangs another tale, audit is that bulls tail with the tuft on the end, lazily swinging, which I am now doomed to follow to the last. Hastily arming myself with a revolver, I clapped my spurs on, and rushing out to the barn, threw the saddle on a one- eyed mare I had, and galloped towards the foe. My brother- in-law, almost at the same moment, bestrode a fouryear-old, and followed to the field. Toms mount was, if any thing, rather diminutive. She 185~L] The Chronicles of Persepolis. 225 was also of the feminine gender, and with the exception of a spavin in one hind leg7 which gave it an unhappy crook, an.d caused her to use a gait compounded of a trot, a gallop, and a shuffle, was as valiant and vicious a piece of horse-flesh as yoti would find in a drove of sixty. Her unfortunate hoppity- hickity pace had fastened on her the name of the Grass-hop- per, although Tom preferred calling her Cricket, as more elegant and euphonious. Dashing the rowels in the flanks of our astonished steeds, we wheeled for the bull. We wheeled, however, much sooner when we reached him. Cricket made a side-bolt and landed Tom some six feet offluckilyon his feet. That young gentleman was armed with a double-barreled gun. The gun, of course, went one way, and he the other. Happily for him it did not imitate his example and go off. I had taken the precaution to approach the monster on my horses blind side, and got near enough to fire one of my charges fair into his rump. With a roar which shook the surrounding hills, and almost threw down the supporter which upheld one end of the piazza, where the pillar never was finished, the bull sprung to his feet and rushed at me. But my horses good eye had come into play, and, not at all disposed to go more than one eye on the bull, away we wenthead and tail up. Whose head and tail was highest, the horses or the bulls, the most acute ob- server would have been puzzled to determine. The pace was a killing one. I am sure I never felt the force of the term more perfectly; but fear lent wings to the one-eyed, and we cleared a gap in the fence just as the bull grazed her tail with his horns as he went head over heels into the ditch. To wheel and give him the second barrel, was the work of a moment; and before he could recover and scramble out, bellowing all the while like a legion of devils, Tom came up at a hand-gal- lop. He had caught Cricket, recovered his gun, and, exaspe- rated by his hoist, horribly bepainfed gules, with streaks of red mud, began to be mischievous. Before Cricket could cuta pigeon-wing, or turn a pirouette, he had given bull both barrels in the shoulder; and then away we went together. By this time, bull began to have it almost as much his own way as if he had been in a china shop, instead of a ten-acre lot. Neither horse could be brought to face the music of his roar a third Lime, and round and round the field we went, the pursued in- stead of the pursuers. Already the windows of the house were filled with anxious faces, and fainter or loudcr, as the chase receded or approached, 10 226 Yi14e Chronicle8 of Persepolis. [March, the voices of women rose upon the frightened breeze of morn. Wanting the delightful heroism of Spanish women, who cheer the Toreador in the ring, and wave their scented kerchiefs and enjoy the sight, our wives might be seen clasping their hands in terror and amaze, and their voices came fitfully upon the summer air, laden with any thing but cheers or animating cries. In fact, they considered us already as good as devoted to the infernal gods, and by way of helping us shouted the assurance that we would certainly be killed, whenever we came near enough to hear them. At this interesting juncture, too, a new feature was added to the scene, in the withered and angry person of old Dyscamp himself. Perched upon the fence, from which he did not dare to descend, he shook his fist, both his fists, at us, in impotent rage. lie yelled, he sworethat venerable tallow-chandler, that ancient respectable soap-boilerand would have torn his hoary hair, but that he wore a gray scratch. I freely admit that I began to feel very uncomfortable. My horse began to blow. The ground was broken. There was a ditch and a two-rail fence on top of it at one side of the field, and dividing it from a piece of meadow. Three times we had taken the ditch and fence in the finest style, clearing it without starting a splinter; but the ground and the pace began o tell, and a few rounds more would make it a hand-to-hand fight. To the man who bucked the bull off the bridge, this would probably have added an additional zest to the amuse- ment. To me, who had no particular confidence in the frontal bone of my head, it presented a questionable variety of the sport. In the most headlong and critical part of the course, however, I could not help, as we passed Dyscamp, leaning over nd shouting: Uncle Dicky, hows your mother-in-law ? This was too much for the venerable ex-soap-boiler to bear; it was the last drop in the kettle of his wrath. The kettle boiled over. He could not restrain himself. Anger got the better of prudence. He leaned forward from his perch to grab me: missed me, lost his balance, and rolled head over heels into the field. Uncle Dicky missed me; but the bull didnt miss Uncle Dicky. He was upon him in an instant; with a single bound and roar he drove his horns into him. I had turned upon my saddle to see. I begun to be really terrified for the unfortu- nate old fellow. 1 thought that he was about to bid farewell to his mother-in-law for ever. By a lucky chance, howe~vcr, 1856.] The Chronicles of Persepolis. 227 the bull had merely entangled his horns in the tails of his coat, and the hinder parts of his nether-garments, which were of singularly ample dimensions, and Uncle Dicky Dyscamp went up into the air a whole man. But this sort of thing could not be expected to happen twice, and we looked to see the unlucky Picky descend upon the very points of the enraged beasts horns, and perish miserably. Actuated by I know not what feeling, but probably a com- pound of nervous horror, and unavailing desire to repair the mischief I had been the proximate cause of; I drove the spurs into my horse. He darted with a wild plunge towards the bull. The bull saw us, and, instead of waiting for Picky to descend, and finishing him comfortably, he lowered his head and started for me. The movement was just sufficient to change his position so far, that instead of falling on his horns, Uncle Picky fell astraddle on his back. With the intuitive energy of desperation, Picky clung to him as he fell, and graspedwhat, I dont knowbut he stuck as close and sud- denly to him as a set of false teeth put into a mans head by atmospheric pressure. This was adding insult to injury. To be hunted, was bad enough; but to be turned into an old gen- tlemans saddle-horse, exasperated the bull beyond the bounds of sanity. He went wild crazy at once, and dashed off in a series of the most comical as well as terrible turns, twist s,and plunges. Picky held on still; but the old man was evidently grow- ing faint. By this time all the farm-hands, and many neighbors, were on the ground. They had some of them procured a cart-rope, and one bolder than the rest, succeeded, as the unfortunate animal rushed towards him, in throwing a noose over his head. The noose caught. Twenty hands grasped the rope, and the bull rolled over and over on the ground. Bruised, haggard, terrified, breathless and muddyhis gray scratch gone, and his exceedingly prominent nose guiltless of its natural covering of skinUncle Picky was dragged from the dangerous vicinity of the floundering, and yet unconquered monster. We tendered him our sincerest regrets, and endeavored to persuade him to accept of the hospitality of Rougemont. But the indignant sufferer violently refused our proffered kindness, and, resuming his wig, limped gloomily away. Next day he sued us. 228 Public Opinion. [March, We knew he would. They never do any thing else in New- Jersey. We immediately brought a cross-action for trespass; and after a protracted litigation, in the course of which we made several forensic efforts, as brilliant and successful as our first, in the case of Bivins vs. Smithers, we came to an amicable ar- ran gemen t,each party agreeing to pay his own co the suits, and say no more about the matter. - sts, drop Mr. Richard iDyscamp visited a remote city for the benefit of his health. He was absent some time, and we are happy to state, that on his return our relationships assumed a much more amicable and neighborly character. From which we drew the moral, that There is nothing like taking the bull by the horns. PUBLIC OPINION. THEORETICALLY and logically the inhabitants of this blessed country are the freest people on the face of the earth. Prac- tically their freedom has its limits, and sometimes those limits are so strait as to narrow down the results of the theory closer than under worse governments. Government derives all its just powers from the consent of the governed. That is theory. All our government or governmental wire-pullers do is just; there- fore, the consent of every citizen is implied, and he who dissents does so at his own proper peril. That is practice. We mean to talk plainly about this matter. It is time some one did so. There are a great many profounder thinkers and better writers than we in the country, and if there seemed any chance of their doing it, we would gladly leave it to them. But the men who would do it dispassionately, who would be guided in it by the spirit of a large philosophy, and not handle words deceitfully to bol- ster up an ~srn or an ology will not, it seems, so much as touch it with. one of their fingers. Itis a hard thing to say, but we verily believe a little cowardice ties their tongues, and plucks from their fingers the gray goose shaft they should let fly to the very heart of the error. You will ask, against what

S. W. C. C., S. W. Public Opinion 228-239

228 Public Opinion. [March, We knew he would. They never do any thing else in New- Jersey. We immediately brought a cross-action for trespass; and after a protracted litigation, in the course of which we made several forensic efforts, as brilliant and successful as our first, in the case of Bivins vs. Smithers, we came to an amicable ar- ran gemen t,each party agreeing to pay his own co the suits, and say no more about the matter. - sts, drop Mr. Richard iDyscamp visited a remote city for the benefit of his health. He was absent some time, and we are happy to state, that on his return our relationships assumed a much more amicable and neighborly character. From which we drew the moral, that There is nothing like taking the bull by the horns. PUBLIC OPINION. THEORETICALLY and logically the inhabitants of this blessed country are the freest people on the face of the earth. Prac- tically their freedom has its limits, and sometimes those limits are so strait as to narrow down the results of the theory closer than under worse governments. Government derives all its just powers from the consent of the governed. That is theory. All our government or governmental wire-pullers do is just; there- fore, the consent of every citizen is implied, and he who dissents does so at his own proper peril. That is practice. We mean to talk plainly about this matter. It is time some one did so. There are a great many profounder thinkers and better writers than we in the country, and if there seemed any chance of their doing it, we would gladly leave it to them. But the men who would do it dispassionately, who would be guided in it by the spirit of a large philosophy, and not handle words deceitfully to bol- ster up an ~srn or an ology will not, it seems, so much as touch it with. one of their fingers. Itis a hard thing to say, but we verily believe a little cowardice ties their tongues, and plucks from their fingers the gray goose shaft they should let fly to the very heart of the error. You will ask, against what 1856.] Public Opinion. would you have these great wits empty their quiver? Against the Zfqraurty of Public Opinion. Do you mean public opinion itself? No, the thingthe institution, if you please, is in itself admirable. It is also, in most cases, ultimately just in its de- cisions, and demonstrates the truth of the vox populivox dci principle. It is, moreover, the true conservative element of this government; in fact, it is the government itself. Your Federal and State governments are mere figments of the ima- gination. They are things which are and are not. They are not substantive existencies. They possess neither inherent force nor vitality. They live, move, and have their being in the atmosphere and through the medium of public opinion. It is the breath of their nostrils, the vital current, the inform- ing soulthe willwhose impulses they obey. A well-edu- cated and right-minded public opinion is therefore as neces- sary to the moral health of the iRepublic, as correct moral principles and just ideas are indispensable in the formation of the character of an individual member of the body politic. It is, indeed, to us a matter of supreme necessity. Other go- vernments, based upon prescription, and holding power, com- monly, by adverse possession to the will of the people, may, and often do, keep a rotten and unseaworthy bark afloat, for many years, by keeping a crew of hungry and desperate office- holders constantly at the pumps. Below them the mutinous waves may heave, or the spirit of an equinoctial gale whis- tle through the complicated cordage, and after all the old bark claw off from a lee shore, and sail away a century or so more upon her voyage. In such governments public opinion, in- choate, and wanting altogether an organized machinery of ex- pression, or a point dappui shipwrecks itself among the wild breakers of the mob, or lands high and dry to rot upon the hopeless shore of privilege and prescription. In strictly constitutional governments it has other means, as well as other epochs of development. In ours, especially, it domi- nates every moment and faculty of the states existence, a~d commands its action with a voice potential. Hence it results that the individual citizen has no unhouseledfree condi- tion, but exists in the circumscription and confine of a real or simulated public opinion. To obey the former is a privi- lege; to show the falsehood of the latter, and whip it naked through the world, a duty. It is this simulated public opinion, which makes the citizen a slave, and constitutes every clique of rascally traders in agitation his jailors. He acts, scarcely ever, of his own mere motion. He is cribbed and ~23O Public O}rnton~. [March, cabined down to the opinion of other men. His decisions come from a ready-made clothing shop, for the mind. He has his resolutions, like his washing, done out. Ward cona- mittees command his conscience, and political strikers his purse. He is a free agent in just the same sense that the poor oil Parro t was,who was perpetually screaming, Ill flyIll fly hang me if I dont fly 1 after the bad boys had cut her wings off. The community assesses him morally, and his party politically. If he be seeking office he has to come down equally with his self-respect and his money. If he hold office, he pockets both daily, and sleeps the sleep of the just at night. Nothing ruffles the equanimity of his temper, or touches the delicate tenderness of his disinterested patriotism., but the monthly request of his snperiors for a voluntary contri- bution to elect Mr. Squcers of Do-the-boys hall, to the of- fice of town constable, for the glorious purpose of putting an end to all faction, schism, treason, agitation, and peculation; and at once saving the Union, and carrying it up to an unex- ampled pitch of happiness and prosperity. Shall he refuse? Of course he may. Is he not a free agent? No body can put him in jail, or the pillor~ or cut off his ears; or bang, draw, or quarter him, if he does. Has he any right to grumble? Preposterous ass; inconceivable idiot. He is a citizen of the freest government under the canopy of heaven. Grumbling is high treason against the m~ijesty of public opinion. Knock the absurd rascal down; pound him to a jelly; jump on him; smash him; gouge him. Hurrah for the freedom ofprivate opinion? Not a bit of it. Hurrah for the freedom of public opinion. Liberty for ever! It is true that mediately, if not immediately, all penalties, except capital punishment, and di- rect incarceration between four stone walls, attach to the per- son and fortunes of the contumacious rebel who revolts, even in the most quiet and inoffensive way, againstnot the just conservatism but the absolute and unchartered license of public opinion. It is true, if you or I, my dear boasting free- man, or any other deluded independent voter, makes the mis- take of taking an appeal from its court to the court of con- science, and scratches John Nokes, or Richard Fen from the regularly-nominated ticket of his party, because the said John Nokes and Richard Fen happen to be unto him well- known to be engaged in watch-stuffing, pocket-book dropping, lottery policies, or any other line of genteel swind- ling, which, heretofore, to wit, in the olden time of this IRe- publicwas held to fit their practisers rather for the Peniten~ 1S~6.] Public Opini1on~ 231 tiary than the ermine: should he, we say, being befuddled with virtuous indignation, and flattered with the idea that he is thrice armed in the justice of his quarrelmake a special zany of .himselg and fly the beaten trackwhat does this pre- tended publi copinion with him ?Answer me that! You know, all of you. The first man who reads the question can answer, and answer truly, if his coward conscience does not set such black and grained spots into the very essence of his soul, as by no human washing can be brought to leave their tinct. He can tell you, innocent questioner, what happens to the man we speak of. If he be an office-holder, off with his head, white livered runagate, what right has he to a conscience? His masters are his conscience-keepers. If he aspire to serve his country, and his perfections be infinite as man can undergo, close on him the doors of the temple of Janus. Henceforth no peace for him. Henceforth no pardon for the heretic who denies the infallibility of a county committee, or a party leader. Henceforth warwar to the knifewithout stint and pitiless. Ha! my brave, frank-hearted, liberal freeman isnt it the jolly old middle age spirit redivivus. IDid not that same gracious form and influence light the blessed fires of Smith- field, and stand, in all its angelic power and sweetness, beside that good man, and amiable, heavenly-minded Christian, Charles IX. of France, on the happy day of St. Bartholomew? Aint you proud of the lineage and descent of your bosoms lord and mentor? You should be, for he had Satan to his father, and stood at the right hand of the paternal throne, when he who drew the third part of all heaven after him assumed the roy- alty of hell. You know this to be so, and if you dare not say itwe dare. In the school in which we were brought up the daily lesson was: Do right and leave the consequences with God ! and in all humility we try to practise the lesson. Some of our country cotemporaries are puzzled, they say, and at great loss to know our drift. Read, mark, and inwardly digest, good gentlemen, and officers of the grand joint-stock company for the manufacture of public opinion, and if neither heart nor head be bettered by your devotion to the deed; if you grow neither more right-minded as men, nor liberal as politicians, we consent to underlie your censure, and admit we are what you have called us, cynical and sneering. And if we should be both cynical and sneering, in the name of truth and justice, do not you and such as you, push us upon it as our supreme remedy? Are you frank, are you loyal? 232 Public Opinion. [March, Do you nail the old Democratic banner to the mast, and swear to conquer or to die beneath it? Or hiding behind the stick of timber from which it droops lazily, with scarce breeze enough to show its motto, do you, squinting at it with one eye, and stammering out at the same time, like a frightened urchin caught stealing apples, the oath of allegiance you once took to it, leer affectionately with the other at Know-Nothingism, and lend a finger of either hand to free-soilism, or Black-Repub- licanism? We think we have seen men do such things, and we know we have heard them howl, in an agony of rage, when afterward accused of them. Or if you be earnest, true, and loyalwhich we are heartily willing to believe until your acts bely the assumption of those generous qualities in your favor to what else but cynicism and sneering, can you point as a remedy for the evils of the time? Are they such as argu- ment will reach or generosity conquer? Have not weand by we, we mean all that part of the Democratic party, both North and South, which stands fast by the Constitution of the United States, and the reserved rights of the Stateshave not we exhausted our case? Have we not sifted and examined every piece of special pleading from the opposition, and shown that its highest flight was to a peUtio principii its common gabble a beautiful conglomerate of falsehood and insanity? Has there ever been an allegation, or argument against us, which even a justices court would not rule out, instanter, as manifestly impertinent, and wholly irrelevant to the issue? Come, gentlemen, you who are coqueting with the Tsms of the hour ;who kiss your new mistress Know-Nothingism behind the door of the lodge-room, and are ashamed to offer her your arm in the public street; you who hug Black-Re- publicanism in congenial darkness, and feed it fat with your substance, but slink away from it with the daylight, and talk oilily of democracystand out for once, if only for a minute, like men, and let us know where to find you. You can not serve two masters. You must hate the one, and love the other. You can not serve the Democratic party, and cherish ideas or schemes hostile to the rights of any part of the Union, at the same time. It is not we who terrify you, as you allege. A coward conscience afflicts you. Cleanse your bosoms of the perilous stuff that weighs upon the heart. Stand square and honestly upon the platform of the Constitution. Read a chapter from it, every night and morning before you say your prayers. Ponder the question, whether a Southern white man may not be as much a mart and a brother as the like. 1856.] Public Opinicrn. 233 liest nigger south of the Potomac, and, mayhap, a little more so. Discard rant and rubbish. Come down from the hyperbo- rean latitudes of highfalutin to the region of common-sense and common honesty, and then be you as credulous a crea- ture as ever swallowed Munchausen or Baron Trenek for gospel, you may go to bed after reading the IDEMOCRATIG IREVIEW without fear of a prodigious nightmare. In fact, you may go to bed and sleep quite sweetly, and get up in the morning with a much greater taste and ability for doing to your neighbor as you would he should do unto you, than you have experienced for some time back. We cry the reader mercy for this episode; but the makers of public opinion have said that we terrified them into visions of the nightmare, and we can not deny them a penny-worth of opium to still their too delicate nerves. But, at the risk of startling them yet again, we tell them, that we the people of America are slaves to a hoard of petty tyrants, and whilst we boast our freedom, and plume ourselves upon exceeding all other people in liberty, we are bound hand and foot, and carried away captive to a worse than Egyptian bondage. Live where we may, in town or country, we are covered with it as with a pall, and our life-blood chills beneath it. Our mi- serable two-penny tyrants have learned the word Public Opinion, and, parrot-like, they reiterate it as their answer to every thing. They have taken it and cut it up into shreds and patches, and plastered here a bit, and there a bit, over their own little particular locality, as rogues sometimes clap a sticking-plaster over the mouth of their victims to prevent their cries. Thus your ward or county great man has his patch of the article for the ward or county; your candidate for Congress one a little larger, for his congressional district; your aspirant for the Presidency a plaster large enbugh to cover the North, or South, the East or West. Mind you these are all different; and this fine subtle essence of public opinion is bottled and served out in doses, to suit the particular political epidemic which happens to be raging in the locality to which these politi- cal alexipharmics are to be administered. Also, it is pleasant to see that the medicine which effects miraculous cures on one side of an imaginary geographical line, goes nigh to be a deadly poison on the other. But only dare to turn up your nose, and make a wry face when the Alderman of your ward, the member of Assembly for your county, the Congressman for your dis- trict, the political Sangrado, duly commissioned by4their High 234 Public Opinion. [March, Mightinesses the Primaries, to kill or cure you, walks up with a bottle of his Public Opinion to dose you, or his sub- scription-book to bleed you, andtake your passage for Coven- try at once. Youre lost, ruined, undone. Your character as a party man is gone at a clap. You may have spent the best years of your life, the best part of your means; lavished the hopes of youth, the energy of manhood, the wisdom of ao~e- offered at its shrine all the treasures of your intellectpuff! Away the memory of it all goes like a wreath of smoke. You stand no more chance against the publi~c opinion of your locality as made to order by the wire-pullers, than a pinch of snuff on a rail-fence of a windy day. Your doom is sealed; you may either move into some body elses circle of public opinion, or retire to the shades of private life. And so we are slaves, Not such, As swept along by the full tide of power, The conqueror leads to crimson glory, and undying fame; But base, ignoble slaves slaves to things meaner even than ourselves. What, do our friends whom we have gone near, before time, to terrify into a nightmare, stand aghast? Do they say that we are unsettling mens minds; that we are disorganizing; that we are destractives, who pull down a system, but offer nothing in its place. Gentlemen, what we aim to pull down is a lie, an acted, ugly, hideous fraud and falsehoodpatent to all mens eyes. Nor do we need to offer you a substitute, since behind it, obscured indeed by the foul mist and miasmatic vapor of this parti-colored falsehood which common tricksters dignify with the borrowed epithet of public opinion, rises in simple majesty, the glorious form of truth. Behold! in the language of Milton, how her master has brought together every joint and member, and moulded them into an immortal feature of loveliness and perfection ! Look up, and worship her. And worship in her also that true public opinion which is not limited by a County or a State, but broad and general as the casing air, pervades the Union, and carries with it an irresistible power. Such a public opinionthe real and noble influencethe bond of our Union, the golden chain which links its many States in one, we have lately heard speaking with imperial voice in the halls of Federal legislation, and we thank God and take courage at the sound. A cloud no bigger than a mans hand shows itself upon our horizon. It is a cloud of war. England maddened by grasping avarice is false to her 1856.] Pulilic Opinion. 235 own treaties. She would push us from Central America. She would fetter the step of freedom beneath the tropics. She would close upon us the royal road to India, and prop up her tottering commercial Empire. She, in her dotage, mates her- self against the lusty youth of America. She points to our small navy with derisionto her own powerful one with exult- ant defiance. She casts her eye over the United States, ~and sees the North and South arraying themselves in sectional op. position to each other. Every steamer carries out to her watchful ministers the frothy declamation of men hoisted to high political position on the shoulders of an Ismand she chuckles over the idea that intestine divisions, broils, and com- motions would play the ally to her fleets and armies in a war with the United States. Vain expectation. With the first blast of the bugle the land is up and united as one man. The Jerry-rescuer and the Georgia planter shoulder the musket and march side by side. James Buchanan finds a champion in William II. Seward; and Lewis Cass would back even Martin Van Buren in such a quarrel; Foot will stand by Frank Pierce, and the Free-soilers of New-York strike hands with the Ada- mantines. Our country always right 1 rings out on every echo from Maine to San Francisco. A real public opinion compels the union of allhowever widely separated. Your great men grow pigmies before it, and your leaders puff after it in haste. They dare not be left behind. And what does that prove, dear friend of the delicate physi- cal organization, whom our cynicism has made sleepless? This! It proves thisthat your Ism-ites, your Free-soilers, your Arch-Agitatorsyour William H. Sewards, your~ blood- and-sulphur secessionists are after all trading without a capital. That they are pretending, in their ordinary public life to repre- sent public opinion, when they are merely misrepresenting it, and acting a miserable farce and fraud, which is kept moving by a machinery of hired scribblers and primary ruffians. But the moment the real public opinion, which is the soul and prin- ciple of the confederacy, has reason to speak; when war begins to threaten, or circumstances great enough to call it out occur your loudest ravers of disunion, and factiongrow tame as lap-dogs. Their hour is past. The dog has had his day, and slinks back to his kennel. The voice of the PEOPLE rises, with no discordant note to break the majesty of its orders, and com- mands faction to be still; placemen to mind their red tape; Presidents to remember who made and can unmake them; Senators to repeat its orders, and leave ambitious follies, and 236 Public O2iniom. [March, theories concocted for nothing but their own aggrandizement till a proper time for fooling. And all obey! A real public opinion seizes the control of public affairs, and the thousand puny imitations which have been swelling ancEvaporing for years, shrink back to their natural silence and nothingness. At such times, when the exigence of the time demands gravity or sternness, our friends will find in us not the gravity of your great man of Frog-Town, your Sir Oracle of Four- Corners, before the fire of whose eye the very furnace in the Blacksmiths shop shivers with cold; not the sternness of a village pedagogue whose wrath is terrible to little boys; but the sternness of the pilot whose hand never trembles on the wheel because the storm bursts around him, the quiet stern- ness of faith in the People and in Democracy; and the gravity of the physician who knows that however sharp the pain his pa- tient may suffer for the moment, it is but a transitory evil, and whilst his face is marked with the lines of sympathetic grief; his heart beats happily at the assured conviction of a speedy recovery. The heavy editor of a commercial Journal in New-York benevolently remarked to a friend of ours that we treated grave subjects too lightly, and turned every thing into ridicule. It pleases us that a very heavy editor should have nous~~ enough to discover it. We are laboring to undo the work of heavy editors ; they have put such a weight of lead into every thing that they have sunk them where nobody can find them. The public have got to saying: Skip thatit is a heavy article on politicswe know it all by heartlong-tailed words and bad logicbetter read the advertisements than that. Now we mean to be what our heavy editors are not we mean to be read. And when we are readparticularly this articleit will incontinently appear whether they or we know most about PUBLIC OPINION. Let us give our over-wise and over-heavy friends an illustra- tion. We have treated with a scorn which they call lightness the efforts of all sorts of Ism makers. We have said that no such tempest in a tea-pot as they can raise can harm the Union. We have declared our conviction that the moment their efforts or coalitions assumed dangerous proportions the Democratic party not of a State or States, but of the whole Union, would be found rising like a wall of adamant between them and the Constitution. We have prophesied loudly that the true pubige opinion, which it always proclaims as the law of our national existence, in every national crisis, would utter its 18~E~.] Pu6lic Opinion. 237 voice and say to the frothy waves of factious turbulence and sectional division, Thus far shall ye come, and no farther 1 Look at the record, 0 ye timid and faint-hearted! and see if it be not so. A Convention of Know-Nothings meet in Philadelphia. Enter the domicil of that happy familythe door of that cage of unclean birds. Distinguish if you can the meaning of their ominous chatter. What does it amount to? Disunion treason: war upon the rights of their fellow-citizens in their own States; war upon the rights of the sovereign States: war upon every thing but their own selfish interests as aspirants for two-and-sixpenny offices. Every discarded and broken-down hack and tool of every party and section of a party is there. Every uncloaked and. discovered knave whose game has been played out in every other organization, and who has been dis- carded and thrust out from among decent menis there. To do what? To represent public opinion forsooth. To make a national party. To insist upon Americans ruling America that is, upon h~s ruling his own precious little portion of it. Aboue all, to defeat the Democratic party. A little way from them another Convention is met: a Nig- ger Worshippers Convention; a Convention of African iRepub- licans. here you havewhat? New men and new measures? Truly nothing of the sort. You have free-soil Whigs; dis. carded servants of the Democracyturned off for attempting to betray their masters; rampant Abolitionists; lackeys of Exeter Hall, and cats-paws of English cunning ;a veritable pandemonium of hopeless madmen, and avowed traitorsglo- rying in their shame. What do these aim at? At the Con- stitution ; at the reserved rights of the States; at the existence of the Federal Union; at the Democratic party which guards and preserves all! They have seen the Democratic party, in many States, divided against itself. They have seen men of avowed free-s oil principles persisting in sticking like unsightly burrs upon its garments. They have believed their opportu- nity to strike it down arrived! Foolish madmen! The Democratic party is never divided when the Union and Con- stitution; when the rights of the States; when the franchises of the citizen; when freedom to worship God is threatened. Go to Old Tammany, 0 ye motley crew of Know-Nothings, Free-soilers, Nigger Worshippers, and all the rest of you! In- terrogate her walls. They are yet ringing with the exulting shouts from thousands of loyal Democratic throats, which ut- tered their oath of fidelity to all the rigliAs of all the States, in 238 PuUic Opinirn. [March, that honored place, on the evening of the 22d February, 1856. Busy tongues, and hearts anxious to believe their own false- hoods, had represented thrt the Democracy of Now-York were divided in opinion; that they were divided from their Southern brethren, that their love for the old Jackson faith had waxed cold. But Mississippi uttered her voice from the platform, and the sympathizing shouts of the assembled multitude seemed al- most to lift the roof from the old Hall. Louisiana spoke face to face; South-Carolina looked eye to eye with the Democracy of New-York, and communicated to each other a holy enthu- siasm. With one spontaneous and unanimous burst, the voice of the Democracy of New-York, mingled with the manly and uncompromising tones in which Quitman, Orr, and Davidson proclaimed the old doctrines of State iRightsdoctrines dear to every true Democratic heart from Maine to San Francisco. There was no mistaking the meaning of that sound: it was a pledge of the unfaltering fidelity of New-York to the Constitu- tion, and the rights of every member of that Union it cements. It was an audible, an unmistakable expression of true pubUc qpinion. It was the death-knell of Know-Nothingism, and Afri- can Republicanism. Who shall be so blind or deaf as not to understand it? Henceforth the lipe of demarcation is truly drawn. The Democratic party purges itself of every questionable element at the North as well as at the South. Whoever desires to trim, or compromise, or use a forked tongue, or talk of fidelity to the Constitution, with the jesuitical proviso of as we in- terpret ithas no place in the party. There is not a crevice left in it for them to creep through. It is sound and whole. They must go away to their own place. The camp of African Republicanism is their refuge. It is a happy riddance. Dangerous as pretended friends, they are impotent as open ene- mies. Array New-York, virginia, South-Carolina, Mississippi, Louisiana in one unbroken phalanx under the Democratic flag and they will sweep the field so clear of all petty treasons, at a single charge, and with so little troublethe victory will be scarce difficult enough of achievement to be worth crowing over. And if those States be united, what other honest Demo- cratic State dare hesitate to fall into the column? Such, 0 vain and foolish Know-Nothings, and other wild fanatical plotters against the Union and the Constitution! will be the fact. ~jPhe allianceoffensive and defensiveis concluded. The voice of the Democratic party of the Union; the voice of a real public opinion, demanding that the ratifications of the 18~6.] Civilization Barbarism. 239 treatf shall be exchanged at once, has made itself heard. Let the Leaders, as they please to call themselves, listen to and obey it. It will be their wisdom to do so. Whoever falters or hesitates will go overboard. The time for trimming; for compromise; for base calculations of sectional expediencies, is past. A great crisis in our national history is upon us. The wave upon which the ship of state rides is rough with storms. Traitors plot within; an ancient foe threatens from abroad. The Democratic party is the only conservative party of the country. It alone has the courage, the character, the power to look these things in the face: to say the Union s/tall be sacred; the South shall be protected; fanaticism and sectionalism s/tall be crushed. To your tents, 0 Israel 1, S. w. C. CIVILIZATION BARBARISM. Trois causes concourent ~ donner fl 1homme de Ia nature une bonne constitu- tion physique et une grande force: Pabondance dalimens, 1exercise continuel do sea membres, labsence de toute passion violente et la tranquillit6 desprit2 Jeaa Jacques Rousseau. IF, to remove an error, it were alone necessary to clearly establish an op- posite truth, the received opinions of many writers of reputation might with- out difficulty be refuted. There are, however, very many persons, who, in good faith, give assent to opposite propositions. The propensities of the mind are not more, and are perhaps even less, easily changed than those of the body. When the habit of forming certain opinions has been contracted, those opinions are frequently preserved, even when, at a later period, under different forms or other names, contrary sentiments have been adopted. Our early impressions are always the strongest, and the least likely to be effaced; those received after maturer years are seldom of a lasting nature. If, then, it occurs that any false ideas we may have received during youth have been corrected, the rectification is liable to be effaced, and our former errors too frequently resume their sway. From this cause we find that instruction is of comparatively little profit, except to minds i.hat are not already impressed. It is, nevertheless, for those who have read the works of such authors as the one from which we have made a quotation at the head of this article, and

Civilization - Barbarism 239-244

18~6.] Civilization Barbarism. 239 treatf shall be exchanged at once, has made itself heard. Let the Leaders, as they please to call themselves, listen to and obey it. It will be their wisdom to do so. Whoever falters or hesitates will go overboard. The time for trimming; for compromise; for base calculations of sectional expediencies, is past. A great crisis in our national history is upon us. The wave upon which the ship of state rides is rough with storms. Traitors plot within; an ancient foe threatens from abroad. The Democratic party is the only conservative party of the country. It alone has the courage, the character, the power to look these things in the face: to say the Union s/tall be sacred; the South shall be protected; fanaticism and sectionalism s/tall be crushed. To your tents, 0 Israel 1, S. w. C. CIVILIZATION BARBARISM. Trois causes concourent ~ donner fl 1homme de Ia nature une bonne constitu- tion physique et une grande force: Pabondance dalimens, 1exercise continuel do sea membres, labsence de toute passion violente et la tranquillit6 desprit2 Jeaa Jacques Rousseau. IF, to remove an error, it were alone necessary to clearly establish an op- posite truth, the received opinions of many writers of reputation might with- out difficulty be refuted. There are, however, very many persons, who, in good faith, give assent to opposite propositions. The propensities of the mind are not more, and are perhaps even less, easily changed than those of the body. When the habit of forming certain opinions has been contracted, those opinions are frequently preserved, even when, at a later period, under different forms or other names, contrary sentiments have been adopted. Our early impressions are always the strongest, and the least likely to be effaced; those received after maturer years are seldom of a lasting nature. If, then, it occurs that any false ideas we may have received during youth have been corrected, the rectification is liable to be effaced, and our former errors too frequently resume their sway. From this cause we find that instruction is of comparatively little profit, except to minds i.hat are not already impressed. It is, nevertheless, for those who have read the works of such authors as the one from which we have made a quotation at the head of this article, and Civilization Bar6arism. 240 [March, who are like to allow their opinions to be biased, that what follows has been written: others may perhaps find little else to reward their labor than what they already know. Three causes, according to Rousseau, unite in giving to the man of nature (~homme de irs nature) a good physical constitution and great power: an abundance of food, constant exercise of his limbs, the absence of all violent passions, and tranquillity of mind. The author then proceeds to demonstrate that these causes exist in mans savage state. Buffon has endeavored to show that the earth, left to itself and without mans aid, is more fertile than when cultivated; and Rousseau thence makes the deduction that the earth, when uncultivated, offers to man more food than when man himself directs its productions. ~ The earth covered with immense forests which have never been mutilated by the axe, says he, offers to man storehouses at every step.* The assertion of Buffon may, in some instances, be true; hut in more cases it is not. There are many countries which would not be fertile, had not the hand of man rendered them so. Egypt, Arabia, Persia, and the Cape of Good Hope would produce but little, were their soils not watered by the hand of man. Holland and other countries would be equally unpro- ductive, had not man taken the pains to dyke or drain the land. But, in partially adopting the proposition of Buffon, we can not admit the deduction which Rousseau has drawn from it, without acknowledging in the first place, that human life may be sustained by every plant which the earth offers, or that, when uncultivated, she prefers to produce such substances as are more proper for mans nourishment; and, in the second place, that these substances are better, and for a longer time preserved, when left on the soil, than when locked up in store-houses. Among these propositions we find no one that is not evidently false. Not only is the assumed abqjdance of food, produced by the earth in an uncultivated state, not proved in a single instance, but it is contradicted by undeniable facts in every part of the world which has not been submitted to culture; in this respect we are at a loss to find an exception. The first condition requisite for mans attaining a robust constitution, therefore, does not exist. The second, which consists in the regular, but moderate exercise of his muscles, is much better fulfilled in a state of civil- ization than in a state of barbarism. Man in his savage state, according to Rousseau, has more physical power than his civilized brother, for the reason, says he, that the one is obliged to execute every thing by the help of his hands alone, while the other accomplishes little but by the aid of machinery; in a word we scarce know how to run, for the reason that we have locomo- tives and steamboats to carry us; we are unable to climb trees, because we are possessed of ladders; and we are unable to tear off great branches, be- * La terre couverte de forits immenses que la cogn~e ne mutila jamais, offre a 1homme des magazins a chaque pas. 1856.] Civilization Barl4trism. 241 cause we have axes and saws; and the savage performs all these operations without exertion, since he possesses none of those implements, or of that machinery, which has enervated us. Rousseau, in this instance, mistakes the relations of cause and effect. We find amongst us very many .who are by no means swift of foot, such as masons, carpenters, shoe-makers, tailors, and others; but if some of these have legs stiff or bandied, is it because they have been too long used to riding in cars or on horseback? We see also among us many persons who are unable to climb a tree: doctors, lawyers, professors of colleges are, we sus- pect, but indifferent climbers; but had they never seen a ladder, is it to be supposed that they would have been able to climb much better? In fine, we every day see men who have not much muscular power in their arms; painters, engravers, writers, and a multitude of others, have, in general, hands scarce suited to tear off great branches of trees; nevertheless, is it just, on that account, to reproach the inventors of the axe and of the saw? Man, in a savage state, exercises himself in such a way and to such a de- gree as will best and most easily procure for him such food as uncultivated nature may afford: he becomes a runner, if it be necessary, to pursue game; a swimmer and diver, if obliged to pursue his prey in the water; but this exercise does not distribute an equal force to the different parts of the body. How can a savage acquire a habit of climbing trees, or of tearing off great branches, in a country like Central Africa, the deserts of Arabia, or the prairies of America, all which are destitute of trees? Why, in countries covered with forests, should the inhabitants indulge in such exercises, if the trees did not produce fruits? Again, Rousseau takes for granted that the savage develops his muscular power in struggling with the wild beasts; if this exercise be frequent, it becomes extremely dangerous; and if it be not frequent, very little benefit to his physical development may be expected. One or the other of these absurdities must be met; unless we suppose that some accommodating bears are to be found, disposed to give every morning to the wild man a gratuitous lesson in gymnastics. If Rousseau had not seen the whole world in a small circle of artisans and among a few college professors, he might easily have perceived that there is, in a civilized community, a far greater distribution of muscular power than can be found among men in a savage state. The savage applies his hands directly to the branch which he wishes to break, and the effect which he seeks to produce can never, in consequence, be very considerable: the civilized man applies his hands to the handle of an axe, and in a few moments he fells an oak. The one applies his hands to the stone which he wishes to remove; the other applies his at the end of a lever, and produces a tenfold greater effect. There is on the part of each an exercise of the muscular powers; but the same force which, in the one instance, produces but a feeble effect, in the other accomplishes an immense result. There are very many mechanical arts which demand the constant use of a large share of physical 17 [March, 242 Civilization Bar6ari8m. power: laborers, miners, carpenters, smiths, sailors, all use, to a great de- gree and laboriously, their limbs. In applying them to their instruments of trade or to machinery, they multiply the power of their limbs instead of enfeebling them. It is true that the civilized man gives more exercise to his arms than to the muscles of his legs, and that the contrary is the case among savage nations: but what reasoning is it, that teaches us to judge a force by the place in which it may be found, rather than by the results it may be capable of producing? The security, the third condition on which Rousseau makes the well-being and the superior physical power of his man in a natural state to depend, does not exist according to his own statements, since he describes him always in danger, contending with wild beasts. Besides, among a people who are in a complete state of barbarism, we find no government giving to one man, or to those whom it employs as its agents, unlimited power over all the others; but this power, among barbarians, may be found in the hands of each one in regard to all others. In a civilized nation, there are advantages and disadvantages peculiar to every station and position. In the savage condition every individual follows the same occupation; all are exposed to the same hardships, all may enjoy the same advantages. But, to prove the superiority of the savage over the civilized life, Rousseau gathers together all the calamities to which man, in every condition, is exposed, and presents them as the predestined lot of every individual man. To discover the sophistry of such a mode of reason- ing, no extraordinary degree of sagacity is requisite; the sdldier, who remains on terra firma, will never be exposed to shipwreck; the laborer does not incur the dangers of the sailor; nor does the sailor run the risks of the miner. The evils common to each profession and to each condition, should, for the justice of the comparison, exceed those which accompany a savage life. We often meet in the writings of Rousseau, another kind of sophism. The point which he proposes to prove being that the evils which accompany the life of a savage, are inferior to those which are attached to a state of civiliz- ation, he offers no reply to the objections which he foresees should be met, except by an ingenious system of dodging the question. When, for exam- ple, it suggests itself that man in his natural state can not successfully oppose the strength of certain wild beasts, he makes the acknowledgment. But, says he, man stands in the same relations to these animals as do those of a weaker species. The human species under Commodus and under Nero continued to exist; but their existence does not prove their well-being. Besides, the question is not, Is the man of nature as happy as certain wild beasts; but, Is he as happy as the man in a state of civilization? Rousseau endeavors to anticipate another objection: If a mother perish, the life of her young child is subjected to extraordinary and immediate dan- ger. No doubt, says he, but this danger is common to a hundred other 1856.] Civili2cdiom Bctrlarism. 243 species. But was that the question? Was it necessary to prove that there are a hundred other species of animals not more happy than the savage? Nevertheless, Rousseaus inevitable reply obtrudes: Lespece humaine nest pas, en cet 6gcerd, de pire condition que toutes Us ceutres. The human species, in that regard, is in no worse position than all other animals. A more serious difficulty presents itself: What, in his oldage, becomes of the man of nature? Rousseau tells us that, among old men who work but little, and perspire scarcely at all, the necessity to use food diminishes with the power to procure it, and that life in such cases passes away almost im- perceptibly. Old men, it is true, among civilized races, work but little, for the reason that their wants are generally provided for, and because they are no longer capable of labor; but in a state of nature are they, less than younger men, obliged to undergo fatigues, to repulse danger, or to defend themselves, naked and without arms, against their enemies and the beasts of prey? Is it less necessary for them to jump, to run, to climb? Do they find the lions and the tigers less ferocious? if, instead of a haunch of yen- sion, the old savage is able to content himself with a rabbit, should he therefore be less swift of foot? One of the prominent characteristics which Rousseau recognizes among the savages, is improvidencethe facility with which they yield to first im- pressions; and at the same time he indicates the absence of vice as the principal cause of their happiness. This is a manifest contradiction; a vice is nothing but the giving ones self up to an act which affords immediate plea- sure, the evil of which being, generally, more or less distant. Besides, is the absence of vice among savages less contradicted by facts than many other of the assertions we have occasion to examine? The attachment which savages have shown to their mode of living, has been, by some, received as a proof of the superiority of a state of barbarism over that of civilization, By this mode of reasoning, there is no vicious habit of which we can not prove the excellence; for where is the man to be found who does not cling to the vices with which he is infected? Nlen have left civilized life to dwell among savages; and this fact has moreover served as an argument against civilization; but we have no certain means of ascer- taining the causes which have determined the conduct of individuals in all such cases, and if we are to credit the testimony of many travellers, it will be found difficult to reconcile their statements to any proof of the advantages of a savage over a civilized life. According to many authox ities, * such Europeans as have been found living among the savages, had been generally attracted by the lascivious habits which, in that state, could be, without re- straint, indulged. We have accounts, also, of transported convicts, who, after having escaped, have returned to resume their labors and their chains, * Charlevoix, Yolney, De la Rochefoucauld, etc. 244 Atrocious Jadges. [March, notwithstanding the severe punishment which is invariably the penalty of their running away. Their return under such circumstances, does not prove much in favor of barbarism. For the present, we shall not continue the examination of this subject. If enough has not already been said to convince those who are the admirers of a savage life, we are confident that for those whose judgments are not influenced by the glitter of style or by the harmony of words, but rather by the truths conveyed, we have already said too much. Atrocious Judges. Lives of Judges infamous as IJools of Tyrants and Instruments qf Oppression. Compiled from th~ Judicial Biographies of Lord JoaN CAMPBELL. Edited by IIICHARD IIILDRETH. New-York and Auburn: MILLER, OBTON & MULLIGAN. 1856. NOTHING can be more instructive than an examination of the working of Englands sy.stem of judicature. So much of our own is drawn from it; we are so deeply indebted to the example of its errors, in teaching us to throw around our own new safeguards for the liberties of the people, that every exhi- bition of the sins of that system, is of immense value to us. True, we are in no danger of intimidation from frowning kings and tyrants; our judges may sit calmly on their benches, dispensing even.handed justice without the fear of a Plantagenet or Stuart. Knights of the bloody hand, or mer. cenary ruffians, at some kings command, may not now stalk into the audience-chamber and relieve the judge of all doubt on the subject of his decision, by informing him what the king his master wishes him to decide. The day of brute violence has passed away, but we have a more fearful, because a more insidious and more omnipresent tyranny, to dread at the pre- sent time the tyranny of public opinion public opinion manufactured by mad fanatics for a mad purpose, and threat- ening to overthrow all law, under the insidious disguise of love to man and his rights, and devotion to mans well-being in the care, by law, of his morality. In view of this danger, the more deadly because it insidiously puts on the disguise of

Atrocious Judges 244-251

244 Atrocious Jadges. [March, notwithstanding the severe punishment which is invariably the penalty of their running away. Their return under such circumstances, does not prove much in favor of barbarism. For the present, we shall not continue the examination of this subject. If enough has not already been said to convince those who are the admirers of a savage life, we are confident that for those whose judgments are not influenced by the glitter of style or by the harmony of words, but rather by the truths conveyed, we have already said too much. Atrocious Judges. Lives of Judges infamous as IJools of Tyrants and Instruments qf Oppression. Compiled from th~ Judicial Biographies of Lord JoaN CAMPBELL. Edited by IIICHARD IIILDRETH. New-York and Auburn: MILLER, OBTON & MULLIGAN. 1856. NOTHING can be more instructive than an examination of the working of Englands sy.stem of judicature. So much of our own is drawn from it; we are so deeply indebted to the example of its errors, in teaching us to throw around our own new safeguards for the liberties of the people, that every exhi- bition of the sins of that system, is of immense value to us. True, we are in no danger of intimidation from frowning kings and tyrants; our judges may sit calmly on their benches, dispensing even.handed justice without the fear of a Plantagenet or Stuart. Knights of the bloody hand, or mer. cenary ruffians, at some kings command, may not now stalk into the audience-chamber and relieve the judge of all doubt on the subject of his decision, by informing him what the king his master wishes him to decide. The day of brute violence has passed away, but we have a more fearful, because a more insidious and more omnipresent tyranny, to dread at the pre- sent time the tyranny of public opinion public opinion manufactured by mad fanatics for a mad purpose, and threat- ening to overthrow all law, under the insidious disguise of love to man and his rights, and devotion to mans well-being in the care, by law, of his morality. In view of this danger, the more deadly because it insidiously puts on the disguise of 1856.] Atrocious fudges. 245 liberal principles, we recommend this partial reprint from Lord Campbells Lives of Chancellors and Judges of England. We may learn from it how fatal to the liberties of our coun- try it will be, when our judges forget that they sit to admi- nister the laws of the land, as they stand on the statute-book, unterrified by the bullying, and unseduced by the siren flat- terers of manufactured public opinion. The extracts from Lord Campbell commence with a sketch of Brabacon, a Judge under Edxvard I., in the thirteenth century. The only rernarka- ble feature in this judges career seems to have been his em- ployment by Edward to contrive some legal scheme for the assertion of that monarchs claim upon the neighboring king- dom of Scotland. Edward 1., arbitrator by mutual consent between the aspirants to the crown of Scotland, resolved to set up a claim for himself as liege lord of that kingdom, and Brabacon was employed, by searching ancient records, to find out any plausible grounds on which the claim could be supported. He ac- cordingly travefled diligently both through the Saxon and Norman period, andby making the most of military advantages obtained by kings of England over kings of Scotland, by misrepresenting the nature of homage which the latter had paid to the former for possessions held by them in England, and by blazoning the acknowledgment of feudal subjection extorted by Henry II. from William the Lion when that prince was in captivity, without mentioning the express renunciation of it by Richard 1.he made out a case which gave high delight to the English court. Edward immedi- ately summoned a Parliament to meet at Norham, on the south bank of the Tweed, marched thither at the head of a considerable military force, and carried Mr. Justice Brabacon along with him as the exponent and defender of his new sztzerainet~. A public notary and witnesses were in attendance, and in their presence the assumed vassals were formally called upon to do homage to Edward as their 8uzerain, of which a record was to be made for a lasting memorial. The Scot~ saw too late the imprudence of which they had been guilty in choosing such a crafty and powerful arbitrator. For the present they re- fused the required recognition, saying that they must have time for a de- liberation, and to consult the absent members of their different orders. Brabacon, after advising with the king, consented that they should have time until the following day, and no longer. They insisted on further delay, and showed such a determined spirit of resistance, that their request was granted; and the first day of June following was fixed for the ceremony of the recognition. Brabacon allowed them to depart; and a copy of his paper, containing the proofs of the alleged superiority and direct dominion of the English kings over Scotland, was put into their hands. He then returned to the south, where his presence was required to assist in the administration of justice, leaving the Chancellor Burnel to complete the transaction. Al- though the body of the Scottish nobles, as well as the body of the Scottish people, would resolutely have withstood the demand, the competitors for the throne, in the hopes of gaining Edwards favor, successively acknow- ledged him as their liege lord, and their example was followed by almost the whole of those who then constituted the Scottish Parliament. 246 Atrocious Judges. [March, The text of this work, as might be expected from Lord Campbells station and ability, contains much entertaining and instructive history. Mr. lluldreth, the editor, wishing to re- lieve the tedium of dry history, puts in, in the shape of foot- notes to the page, the most delightful lot of comicalities we have seen since Hoods. Being intended as comicalities it is not to be expected that they should be either so elegant or dignified as history. For instance to the last sentence quoted above, he appends this funny note: Just like our North- ern candidates for the Presidency, and the doug/i-face (?) politi- cians who contrive to get chosen to Congress by Northern constituencies, whose rights they may barter axvay and be- tray. Apropos of the Bruces splendid victory at Bannock- burn mentioned in the text, Mr. Huldreth notes thus: May the pending attempts of the Southern States, countenanced and supported by the Federal Judges, to establish a superiority and direct dominion over the North, be met and repelled with similar spirit and success 1 Shade of Bruce; what bathos! Poor Lord Campbell little thought his Lives would ever fur- nish Yankee editors with matter for such stupendous jokes. One of the biggest judicial rascals, undoubtedly, of whom Lord Campbell has given an account was William Scroggs. He was as remarkable for his ability as he was infamous for his venality and baseness. With honorable principles and steady application he might have left an historical reputation. * * * He could both speak and write our language better than any lawyer of the seventeenth century, Francis Bacon alone excepted. With the notorious Jeifreys our readers are probably very well~icquainted. We shall, therefore, confine our extracts from this work to such as relate to Sroggs, of whom It was positively asserted in his lifetime, and it has been often repeated since, that Scroggs was the son of a butcher, and that he was so cruel as a judge because he had been himself accustomed to kill calves and lambs when he was a boy. Yet it is quite certain that this solution of Scroggss taste for blood is a pure fiction, for he was born and bred a gentleman. His father was a squire, of respectable family and good estate, in Oxfordshire. Young Scroggs was several years at a grammar school, and he took a degree with some credit in the University of Oxford, having studied first at Oriel, and then at Pembroke College. He was intended for the Church, apd, in quiet times, might have died respected as a painstaking curate, or as Arch- bishop of Canterbury. But, the civil war breaking out while he was still under age, he enlisted in the kings cause, and afterwards commanded a troop of horse, which did good service in several severe skirmishes. Unfor- tunately, his morals did not escape the taint which distinguished both men and officers on the Cavalier side. The dissolute habits he had contracted 1856.] Atrocious Judges. 24T unfitted him entirely for the eclesiastical profession, and he was advised to try his luck in the law. He had a quick conception, a bold manner, and an enterprising mind; and prophecies were uttered of his great success if he should exchange the cuirass for the long robe. He practised in the Kings Bench, where, although he now and then made a splashy speech, his business by no means increased in the same ratio as his debts. He was, says Roger North, a great voluptuary, his de- baucheries egregious, and his life loose; which made the Lord Chief-Justice Hale detest him. Thinking that he. might have a better chance in the Court of Common Pleas, where the men in business were very old and dull, he took the degree of the coif, and he was soon after made a Kings Ser- geant. What was of more importance to his advancement, he was recommended to the Earl of Danby, the reigning prime minister, as a man that might be useful to the government if he were made a judge. In consequence, on the 23d of October, 1676, he was knighted, and sworn in a justice of the Court of Common Pleas. To forward certain schemes of the Court party, Scroggs hav- ing been knighted, was sworn into the office of Chief-Justice of the Kings Bench, and soon earned his bloody fame. The first of the Popish plot judicial murderswhich are more disgrace- ful to England than the massacre of St. Bartholomews is to Francewas that of Stayly, the Roman Catholic banker. Being tried at the bar of the Court of Kings Bench, Scroggs according to the old fashion, which had gone out during the Commonwealth, repeatedly put questions to the pri. soner, attempting to intimidate him, or to involve him in contradictions, or to elicit from him some indiscreet admission of facts. A witness having stated that he had often heard the prisoner say he would lose his blood for the king, and speak as loyally as man could speak, Scroggs exclaimed, That is when he spoke to a Protestant! In summing up, having run him- self out of breath by the violence with which he declaimed against the Pope and the Jesuits, he thus apologised to the jury: Excuse me, gentlemen, if I am a little warm. When things are trans- acted so closely, and our king is in great danger, and religion is at stake, I may be excused for being a little warm. You may think it better, gentle- men, to be warm here than in Smithfield. Discharge your consciences as you ought to do. If guilty, let the prisoner take the reward of his crime, for perchance it may be a terror to the rest. I hope I shall never go to that heaven where men are made saints for killing kings. I must not run the risk of disgusting my readers by a detailed account of Scroggss enormities on the trials of Coleman, Ireland, Whitebeard, Lang- hord, and the other victims whom he sacrificed to the popular fury under pretense that they were implicated in the Popish plot. Whether sitting in his own court at Westminster, or at the Old Bailey in the city of London, as long as he believed that government favored the prosecutions, by a display of all the unworthy arts of cajoling and intimidation he secured convictions. A modern historian, himself a Roman Catholic priest, says, with temper and discrimination: The Chief Justice Scroggs, a lawyer of profligate habits and inferior acquirements, acted the part of prosecutor rather than of judge. To the informers he bebaved with kindness, even with deference, suggesting to them explanations excusing their contradictions, and repelling the impu Atrocious dudges. [March, atlon on their characters; but the prisoners were repeatedly interrupted and insulted; their witnesses were browbeaten from the bench, and their condemnation was generally hailed with acciamations, which the court ra- ther encouraged than repressed. Meanwhile the Chief-Justice went the circuit; and although the Popish plot did not extend into the provinces, it may be curious to see how he de- meaned himself there. Andrew Bromwich being tried before him capitally, for having administered the sacrament of the Lords Supper according to the rites of the Church of Rome, thus the dialogue between them proceeded: Prisoner. I desire your lordship will take notice of one thing, that I have taken the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, and have not refused any thing which might testify my loyalty. Scrogqs, C. J. That will not serve your turn; you priests have many tricks. What is that to giving a woman the sacrament several times? Prisoner. My lord, it was no sacrament unless I be a priest, of which there is no proof. Scroggs. What! you expect we should prove you a priest by witnesses who saw you ordained? We know too much of your religion; no one gives the sacrament in a wafer, except he be a Popish priest: you gave that woman the sacrament in a wafer: ergo, you are a Popish priest. Thus he summed up: Gentlemen of the jury, I leave it upon your consciences whether you will let priests escape, who are the very pests of church and state; you had better be rid of one priest than three felons; so, gentlemen, I leave it to you. After a verdict of guilty, the Chief-Justice said, Gentlemen, you have found a good verdict, and if I had been one of you I should have found the same myself. He then pronounced sentance of death, describing what seemed to he his own notion of the Divine Being, while he imputed this blasphemy to the prisoner: You act as if God Almighty were some omnipo- tent mischief; that delighted and would be served with the sacrifice of human blood. Scroggs beginning to entertain a suspicion that the king was secretly opposed to these murders, and having ascer- tained the truth on this point, suddenly went over to the op- posite faction. Roger North gives the following racy account of his conversion: It fell out that when the Earl of Shaftesbury had sat some short time in the council, and seemed to rule the roast, yet Scroggs had some qualms in his political conscience; and coming from Windsor in the Lord Chief- Justice Norths coach, he took the opportunity and desired his lordship to tell him seriously if my Lord Shaftesbury had really so great power with the king as he was thought to have. His lordship answered quick: No, my lord, no more than your footman had with you. Upon that, the other hung his head, and, considering the matter, said nothing for a good while, and then passed to other discourse. After that time he turned as fierce against Gates and his plot as ever before he had ranted for it. The first Popish plot case which came on after this conversion was the trial of Sir George Wakeman, the queens physician, against whom Gates and Bedloe swore as stoutly as ever; making out a case which implicated, to a certain degree, the queen herself. But Chief-Justice Scroggs now sneered at the marvellous memory or imagination of Gates; and, taking very little notice, in his summing up, of the evidence of Bedloe, thus conclude d If you are unsatisfied upon these things put together, and, well weig h 1856.] Atrocious Judges. 249 ing, you think the witnesses have not said true, you will do well to acquit. Bedloe. My lord, my evidence is not right summed up. Scroggs, C. J. I know not by what authority this man speaks. Gentlemen, consider of your verdict. An acquittal taking place, not only were Oates and Bedloe in a furious rage, but the mob were greatly disappointed, for their belief in the plot was still unshaken, and Scroggs, who had been their idol a few hours ago, was in danger of being torn in pieces by them. Although he contrived to escape in safety to his house, he was assailed next morning by broadsides, ballads sung in the streets, and libels in every imsginable shape. After the dissolution of the Oxford Parliament the court was completely triumphant, and, being possessed for a time of absolute power, had only to consider the most expedient means of perpetuating despotism, and wreaking vengeance on the friends of freedom. Before long, Russell, Sydney, and Shaftesbury were to be brought to trial, that their heads might pay t~e penalty of the Exclusion Bill; but if Scroggs should be their judge, any jury, whether inclined to Protestantism or to Popery, would probably acquit them. Accordingly, in the beginning of April, to make room for one who, it was hoped, would have more influence with juries, and make the proceed- ings meditated against the city of London and other corporations pass off with less discredit, while he might be equally subservient, Sir William Scroggs was removed from his office of chiefjustice of the Kings Bench. So low had he fallen, that little regard was paid to his feelings, even by those for whom he had sacrificed his character and his peace of mind; and, in- stead of a resignation on account of declining health, it was abruptly an- nounced to him that a supemedeas had issued, and that Sir Francis Pember- ton, who had been a pui~ne judge under him, was to succeed him as chief- justice. His disgrace caused general joy in Westminster Hall, and over all Eng- land; for, as Jeifreys had not yet been clothed in ermine, the name of Scroggs was the by-word to express all that could be considered loathsome and odious in a judge. He was allowed a small pension, or retired allowance, which he did not long enjoy. When cashiered, finding no sympathy from his own profession, or from any class of the community, he retired to a country house which he had purchased, called Wealde Hall, near Brentwood, in Essex. Even here, his evil fame caused him to be shunned. H~ was considered by the gentry to be without religion and without honor; while the peasantry, who had heard some vague rumors of his having put people to death, believed that he was a murderer, whispered stories of his having dealiags with evil spirits, and took special care never to run the risk of meeting him after dark. His constitution was undermined by his dissolute habits; and, in old age, he was still a solitary, selfish bachelor. After languishing, in great misery, till the 25th day of October, 1683, he then expired, without a rela- tion or friend to close his eyes. He was buried in the parish church of South Wealde; the undertaker, the sexton, and the parson of the parish, alone attending the funeral. He left no descendants; and he must either have been the last of his race, or his collateral relations, ashamed of their connection with him, had changed their name; for, since his death, there has been no Scroggs in Great Britain or Ireland. The word was long used by nurses to frighten children; and as long as our history is studied, or our language is spoken or read, it will call up the image of a base and bloody- minded villain. 2~O Atroezous Judges. [March, Query ?iDid Know-Nothingism revive the name for some occult purpose ;and how long before TJncle Sam will be as ashamed of it as John Bull? As was natural the sketch of Scroggs suggested to our Edi- tor lluldreth several appropriate notes. In one, for instances we are requested to note that recent American history presents a curious parallel to the English Popish plot delusion, in at- tempts by so-called Democrats and Whigs (but in reality Slavery-extenders) taking advantage of popular sentiment ih favor of the Union, to hoist themselves into power by abuse of those immaculate saints the Abolitionists. Daniel Webster is dabbed of course in the same note with a little of Mr. Hil- dreths slime. The book closes with an appendix containing the case of Passmore Williamson, as stated by himself in his petition, with the various judicial opinions delivered in the matter. From all which we learn that Passmore Williamson having urged and led on a mob of Philadelphia dock-negroes to attack a United States ambassador, and with the aid and assistance of such a mob having assaulted the ambassador and stolen his property, escaped after all with only a few days imprisonment in Moyamensing jail, while all the time he richly deserved hanging. In one point of view we regard this appendix as a valuable addition to the work. Mr. Huldreth claims that the Abolition- ists have produced the same state of dangerous public excite- ment in America, that the Popish plot agitators brought about in England, in the time of Scroggs, Chief- Justice. We coYn- cide with him in his opinion. But what a glorious point of departure from English precedent, when we come to look at our American judges, does this case of Williamson present. In a city where Abolitionism is rampant, and on a question, where, according to our Annotator llildreth, public opimon is as mad as when it murdered Stayly, the Roman Catholic banker, a Judge of the United States Court coolly and im- partially administers the laws of the Republic, calm as a summer s day, (we believe it was in July,) his judgment as unbiased by fear of the howl as it was unseduced by the fawn- ing of that big dog Abolitionism. And the comfort is, that not a United States Judge from Maine to California, could have been found who would not have decided exactly as Judge Kane did. We were at first disposed to regret, that the valuable text of Lord Campbell should be marred by this attempt of Mr. Hildreth to turn it into a catch-penny pam- 1856.] Chronicle of the ilknth. 251 plilet of Abolition incendiarism; but, on second thoughts, we are content to put up with the smaller evil, for the sake of the greter good. We are willing that the work of the great Eng- lish lawyer should receive some harm by this American re- hash, if thereby the great cause of the Union may in some good degree be benefited. And that these silly notes of ZR. Hildretb, will have this effect we can not for a moment doubt. CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. F ORE I GN. RUSSIA AND THE ALLIEs.The question of peace or war between the great belligerents continues to absorb public attention with regard to foreign affairs. We shall devote a few minutes to it. Many of our cotemporaries find fault with us for treating great affairs lightly and sneeringly. Our wise brother of the Cleveland Plaindealer, who, we understand, has lately gra- duated with distinguished honor as a general scholar, at the night school in that city, pays us marked honors. He pleasantly remarks, en ~assant, that our efforis are beneath critickmergo, he criticiseth. What is the matter now? Will any body tell us how to please every body? Our nature is mild, placable, conciliatory. We are not quarrelsome. We abhor great swelling words; and your Sir Oracles, Whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pool, With purpose to he dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit and who go perpetually strutting up and down the world, so puffed up with self-importance, they seem to be saying all the while, When I do ope my mouth let no dog bark ! these vapid fellows are exceedingly nauseous to us, a sort of human ipecac and tartar emetic to our moral stomach. They make us sick. Pray, some good gentleman, tell us what to do to rid us of these imposthumes. They are festering all over; they cover the body politic, till from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot is naught but putrifying sores. Shall we not even have a potsherd to scrape them off with? The worst of it is, this class rush, in this age, naturally into newspaper work, and innoculate the whole nation with their miserable mediocrity. Therefore, when one dares puncture their swollen

Chronicle of the Month 251-260

1856.] Chronicle of the ilknth. 251 plilet of Abolition incendiarism; but, on second thoughts, we are content to put up with the smaller evil, for the sake of the greter good. We are willing that the work of the great Eng- lish lawyer should receive some harm by this American re- hash, if thereby the great cause of the Union may in some good degree be benefited. And that these silly notes of ZR. Hildretb, will have this effect we can not for a moment doubt. CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. F ORE I GN. RUSSIA AND THE ALLIEs.The question of peace or war between the great belligerents continues to absorb public attention with regard to foreign affairs. We shall devote a few minutes to it. Many of our cotemporaries find fault with us for treating great affairs lightly and sneeringly. Our wise brother of the Cleveland Plaindealer, who, we understand, has lately gra- duated with distinguished honor as a general scholar, at the night school in that city, pays us marked honors. He pleasantly remarks, en ~assant, that our efforis are beneath critickmergo, he criticiseth. What is the matter now? Will any body tell us how to please every body? Our nature is mild, placable, conciliatory. We are not quarrelsome. We abhor great swelling words; and your Sir Oracles, Whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pool, With purpose to he dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit and who go perpetually strutting up and down the world, so puffed up with self-importance, they seem to be saying all the while, When I do ope my mouth let no dog bark ! these vapid fellows are exceedingly nauseous to us, a sort of human ipecac and tartar emetic to our moral stomach. They make us sick. Pray, some good gentleman, tell us what to do to rid us of these imposthumes. They are festering all over; they cover the body politic, till from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot is naught but putrifying sores. Shall we not even have a potsherd to scrape them off with? The worst of it is, this class rush, in this age, naturally into newspaper work, and innoculate the whole nation with their miserable mediocrity. Therefore, when one dares puncture their swollen 2~2 Chronicle of the Kon,th. [March, bladder of blown phrases, with the pin-point of satire, or cut off the caudal appendage of their long-tailed words, they all howl at once; and rightly enough, for them; for the craft by which they get great gain is in dan- ger ; and the makers of brazen images of Diana of Bombast, and bathos, are after us with sharp sticks, because we treat their heaviness lightly. Let slip the dogs of war, and all your At6s prowl for your re- venges. We can not help it. We are bound to truth and plainness. When we have, by good fortune, something to enlighten the word with, and the felicity of a new idea inspires, we give it with unpretending simplicity. When the character of the months events admits of no such thing, we do not pretend to it: we make no spasmodic effort to get sunbeams from cucumbers, or blood from beets. Happily, a very great majority of the Press in the United States are men of large and generous minds, and scorn, as we do, this eternal reaching after finenessthis Bobadil grandiloquence. So it happens that we are snubbed to-day, and petted to-morrow; called hard names by one side, and patted nicely on the back by the other. So be it. However, by way of variety, we undertake this month to be as grave and learned as the biggest owl in the profession. We shall therefore com- mence incontinently, blinking at the daylight, and to return to our sheep, abandon this highly necessary digressIon and episode, after the manner of Homer, for the great question of Peace or War in Europe. Peace Congresses are then on the carpet, and each hour brings a vary- ing tale with regard to them, It is, however, established that the Emperor Alexander II. consents to treat, on a certain basis, no matter what; that Austria and Prussia are anxious for it; that England has more than half a mind to it; and that France really desires it. Suppose, therefore, as the signs seem to indicate, that negotiations are definitely reSpened; the diplo- matic corps assembled, and the Congress under way. Gui bono? Will it lead to a speedy termination of the war? will it reconcile the jarring in- terests of European States? will it solve the riddle of the balance of power? will it really decide any thing? We can argue only inductively, and look to the Past for a solution of the difficulties of the Present. The course of character, and effect of former European Congresses will perhaps indicate those of the one now proposed. In 1618 the celebrated Thirty Years War commenced in Germany. Schiller has made every body familiar with its history. The fanatical hatred of Ferdinand II. to Protestantism, not badly copied by hie son Fer- dinand III., invested that war of opinion with its chief horrors. The war was finally put an end to in 1648 by the treaty of Westphalia. On the basis of this treaty Germany was reconstructed in the form preserved by her till the formation of the confederation of the Rhine in 1806. The Cong. which finally concluded this peace assembled in 1651; and, it will be seen, was occupied in its discussion for rather more than seven years; during all which time Wallenstein, Gustavus Adolphus, and Tilly ravaged Germany 1856.] Chronicle of the Afonik. 253 with fire and sword. Such was the seven years session of the peaee Con- gress of JYestphalia! Not much comfort, or very large hopes of a speedy adjustment of the difficulties between Russia and the Western Powers to be drawn from that. The treaties of Miinster and Osnabruck, concurrent with the peace of Westphalia, having relieved France on the side of Germany, and the Fronde, which broke out in 1 650, having terminated in 1653; the year 1654 saw the opening of a French and Spanish war, an d the first campaign of Louis XLV. in Flanders. Mazarin finally concluded this war in 1659, by the treaty of the Bidasoa, and the marriage of the Infanta Maria Theresa, daughter of Philip IV. of Spain, and Louis XLV. Here would seem to have been a conclusive triumph of a peace Congress, fortified not only by pub- lic but private barriers against renewed agitation or aggression. Yet it con- cluded nothing. A hollow diplomatic arrangement, instead of peace, it resulted in the war of the Spanish succession. Between them came, however, the war against the Emperor Leopold, Holland and Spain on the one side, and France on the other. In 1 678 this wnr was claimed to be ended by the treaty of Nymegen. It was, however, simply a new shuffle of the pack in which all the cards were kings and knaves, monarchs and diplomats. They took a long breath and were at it again, hammer and tongs. The empire united with Holland and England against Louis, and in 1689 the world was in a new blaze of war. In 1697 the treaty of Ryswick gave the world another glimpse of peace, and quidnuncs prophesied a mil- lennium of brotherly love in Europe. 1701, however, gave a beautiful defi- nition of the word stability in European affairs. In that year the war of the Spanish succession broke out afresh. It lasted for thirteen years. All Europe was convulse~i, and every interest well nigh ruined by it. Eugene and Marlborough played magnificent games of chess with human pieces: millions watered the devastated fields of Europe with their blood, and no- thing was gainednothing ended. In 1713 the peace of Utrecht finished the war, and left the quarrel to rankle in all breasts. What need to follow this farce of Peace Congresses farther? From Campo Formio to the Con- gress of Vienna, we all know the steps. Every American schoolboy has a clear idea of the pompous folly and inconclusive parade of diplomatic sagacity and royal cunning. They see England madly loading her people with a debt she can never pay, except, as sailors say, with the foretop- sailin order to crush Napoleon, the representative of democratic ideas the emperor of the people. They see the farce of Charles X.; the more successful interlude of Louis Philippe, all ending in an emperor of the peo- ple againa Bonaparte ;they see Europe again convulsed, and again talk- ing of Peace Congresses, and they smile in pity over the sad spectacle of human folly, untaught by experiences so manifold, continued, and bitter. Is there much to be hoped from a new peace congress? Is there much to be feared from European interference on this continent? Scarcely. It is perhaps wise for us to walk cautiouslyto do nothing in a hurry; but this 2~4 Chronicle of the 3fonth. [March, continent is ours. Gods providence has given it to us. The law of national progress is absolute; it marches with the steps of Fate. What part we need, that part we will take and keep. It is written in the book of fate. The correspondence between Mr. Marcy and Mr. Buchanan; the pitiful shuffling of the English Cabinet and their minister, Crampton, leaves us but one alternative. A bold and unwavering front must be presented to English aggression and English falsehood. If, carried away by the anticipation of peace with Russia, she attempt to cover her acts by bluster, the common subterfuge of the bully, we must teach her a lesson of war which will not be forgotten by her statesmen during the present generation at least. The country demands it, and will sustain any administration in the boldest measures. DOME ST IC. The Kansas imbroglio is the chief subject of interest and discussion. We have already very plainly stated our opinions. Those opinions appear to be shared by the national Executive. In his proclamation, dated Feb. 11, he recites the facts and his determination in the following language: Whereas, indications exist that public tranquillity and the supremacy of law in the Territory of Kansas are endangered by the reprehensible acts or purposes of persons, both within and ~vithout the same, who propose to direct and control its political organization by force: it appearin~ that combinations have been formed therein to resist the execution of the Territorial laws, and thus, in effect, subvert by violence all present constitutional and legal authority: it also appearing that persons residing without the Territory, but near its borders, contemplate armed in- tervention in the affairs thereof: it also appearing that other persons, inhabitants of remote States, are collecting money, en,aging men, and providing arms for tho same purpose: and it further appearing that combinations within the TerrItory are endeavoring, by the agency of emissaries and otherwise, to induce individual States of the Union to intervene in the affairs thereof in violation of the Constitution of the United States. And whereas, all such plans, for the determination of the future institutions of the Territory, if carried into action from within the same, will consti- tute the fact of insurrection, and if from without that of invasive aggression, and will, in either ease, justify and require the forcible interposition of the whole power of the general government, as well to mahatain the laws of the Territory as those of the Union Now, thererefore, I, Franklin Pierce, President of the United States, do issue this my proclamation to command all persons engaged in unlawful combinations against the constituted authority of the Territory of Kansas or of the United States to disperse and retire peaceably to their respective abodes, and to warn all such persons that any attempted insurrection in said Territory, or a~,gressive intru- sion into the same, will be resisted not only by the employment of the local militia~ but also by that of any available forces of the United States to the end of assuring immunity from violence, and full protection to the persons, property, and civll rights of all peaceful and law-abiding inhabitants of the Territory. To which we say heartily, amen! Let all good men refrain from meddling. Let them leave the people of that territory to settle the matter themselves. Look at it in the most common and every-day point of view, if you please, and see the wicked folly of adding to this thing by injudicious sympathy for either side in the quarrel. Granted that the right be upon either side. 1856.] Chronicle of the Idiouth. 255 What then? Can you convince the other side? No! But what can you do, by adding word or deed to either? You can make the matter only worse for both. It can not be that any right-minded patriot, or God-fearing man, desires civil war. What curse compares with it? Alas! it carries all other curses in its bosom. And yet every grain you add to the weight of either Bide in this quarrel makes it imminent. In the name of all you love or cherish, in the name of your country and humanity, peril not all interests for the sake either of slavery or anti-slavery fanaticism! Let them alone, and like all other follies they will die out and shrivel up of themselves. Let the federal government do it~ duty, carry out the act for the consti- tution of the territory, and every good citizen hold his hands and his peace from every thing but the vindication of the supremacy of the law. We have faith enough in the good sense of the American people to believe they will. CouoaEss.On Saturday, Feb. 2, the House of Representatives organized, by the election of Nathaniel P. Banks, Jr., of Massachusetts, as Speaker. The balloting commenced Dec. 3, and one hundred and thirty-three ballot- ings were had before a choice was effected. Sixty days of a congressiona Session, and half a million of the peoples money wasted to make Nathaniel P. Banks, Jr., Speaker at last! Who shall say we do not get the worth of our money? Let us put the vote on record for future reference. Probably one of these days some of the gentlemen who, happier than Dogberry, have had their wish, and are written down asses to all time, will be glad to forget the act. We them: do not wish the peoplethe Democracyto forget THE VOTE FOR MR. BANKS. Aibright, of Ohio. Allison, of Pa. Ball, of Ohio. Barbour, of md. Bennett, of N. Y. Benson, ofMe. Billinghurst, of Wis. Biagham, of Ohio. Bishop, of N. J. Bust, of Ohio. Bradshaw, of Pa. Brenton, of md. Buffington, of Mass. Burlingame, of Mnss. Campbell, of Pa. Campbell, of Ohio. Chaffec, of Mass. Clark, of Cona. Clawson, of N. 3. Colfax, of lad. Comins, of Mass. Blacic Republican. Covedo, of Pa.. Cragin, of N. H. Cumback, of lad. Damrell, of Mass. Davis, of Mass. Day, of Ohio. Dean, of Conn. Do Witt, of Mass. Dick, of Pa. Dickson, of N. Y. Dodd, of N.Y. Durfee, of R. I. Flagler, of N. Y. Galloway, of Ohio. Giddings, of Ohio. Gilhert, of Ohio. Granger, of N. Y. Grow, of Pa. Hall, of Mass. Harlan, of Ohio. Halloway, of lad. Horton, of N. V. Howard, of Mich. Kelsey, of N. V. King, of N. V. Knapp, of Mass. Knight, of Pa. Knowlton, of Me. Knox, of Ill. Kunkel, of Pa. Loiter, of Pa. Mace, of lad. Matteson, of N. V. McCarty, of N. V. Meacham, of Vt. Miller, of N. V. Morgan, of N. V. Morrill, of Vt. Mott, of Ohio. Murray, of N. V. Nichols, of Ohio. Norton, off]. Chronicle of the ilfionth. Oliver, of N. Y. Parker, of N. V. Pearce, of Pa. Pelton, of N. V. Pennington, ot N. 3. Perry, of Me. Pettit, of md.. Pike, of N. H. Pringle, of N. V. Purviance, of Pa. Ritchie, of Pa. Robbins, of N. 3. Roberts, of Pa. Robison, of Pa. Sabin, of Vt. Sage, of N. V. Sapp, of Ohio. Sherman, of Ohio. Simmons, of N. V. Spinner; of N. V. Stanton, of Ohio. Stranahan, of N. V. Tappan, of N. H. Thorington, of Iowa. Thurston, of R. I. Todd, of Pa. Trapton, of Mass. Tyson, of Pa. Wade, of Ohio. Waibridge, of Mich. Waidron, of Mich. Washburne, of Wis. Wasliburne, of Ill. Washburn, of Me. Watson, of Ohio. Welch, of Conn. Wood, of Me. Woodruff; of Conn. Woodworth, of Ill. Know-Nothing. Edie, of Pennsylvania. THE VOTE TOE MR. AIKEN. Allen, of IlL Barksdale, of Miss. Bell, of Texas. Bennett, of Miss. Bocock, of Va. Bowie, of Md. Boyce, of S. C. Branch, of N. C. Brooks, of S. C. Burnett, of Ky. Cadwallader; of Pa. Caruthers, of Mo. Caskie, of Va. Cliugman, of N. C. Cobb, of Ga. Cobb, of Ala. Crawford, of Ga. Davidson, of La. Denver; of Cal. Dowdell, of Ala. Edmondson, of Va. Elliott, of Ky. English, of md. Evans, of Texas. Faulkner, of Va. Campbell, of Ky. Carlisle, of Va. Cox, of Ky. Etheridge, of Tenn. Eustis, of Ala. Foster, of Ga. Harris, of Md. Hoffman, of Md. Kennett, of Mo. Democrats. Florence, of Pa. Fuller, of Me. Goode, of Va. Greenwood, of Ark. Hall, of Iowa. Harris, of Ala. Harris, of IlL Herbert, of CaL Houston, of Ala. Jewett, of Ky. Jones, of Tenn. Jones, of Pa. Keitt, of S. C. Kelly, of N. V. Kidwell, of Va. Letcher, of Va. Lumpkin, of Ga. Marshall, of Ill. Maxwell, of Fla. McMullin, of Va. McQueen, of S. C. Miller, of md. Millson, of Va. Oliver; of Mo. Know.2Tothings. Lake, of Miss. IAndley, of Mo. Marshall, A. K., of Ky. Marshall, H., of Ky. Paine, of N. C. Porter, of Mo. Puryear, of N. C. Reade, of N. C. ~eady, of Tenn. Orr, of S. C. Peck, of Mich. Phelps, of Mo. Powell, of Mo. Quitman, of Miss. Ruffin, of N. C. Rust, of Ark. Sandidge, of La. Savage, of Tenn. Shorter; of Ala. Smith, of Tene. Smith, of Va. Stephens, of Ga. Stewart, of Md. Talbott, of Ky. Vail, of N. J. Warner, of Ga. Watkins, of Tenn. Wells, of Wis. Wheeler; of N. V. Williams, of N. V. Winslow, of N. C. Wright, of Miss. Wright; of Tenn. Ricaud, of Md. Rivers,, of Tenn. Smith, of Ala. Sneed, of Tenn. Swope, of Ky. Trippe, of Ga. Underwood, of Ky. Walker; of Ala. Zollicoffer; of Term. 256 [March, Chronicle oj the .M2nth. TILE VOTE FOR MR. FULLER. Know-Yotkings. Cullen, of Del. Davis, of Md. Miiward, of Pa. Whitney, of N. Y. TEE VOTE FOR ME. CAMPBELL. Dunn of Indiana. Harrison, of Ohio. Black Repullicans. Know.Nothings. Moore, of Ohio. Scott, of Indiana. THE VOTE FOR MR. WELLS. Democrat. Hinckman, John, of Pa. ABSENTEES. Barclay, of Pa. Bayly, of Va. Craige, of N. C. Childs, of N. V. Edwards, of N. V. Erarie, of Ohio. Democrats. Miller, of Mo. Hichardson, of Ill. Black Repullicans. Horton, of Ohio. Hughston, of N. V. Haven, of N. V. Seward, of Ga. Taylor, of La. Packer, of Pa. Wakeman, of N. V. ~now-Nothing. Valk, of New.York. NOT YOTIRG. Aiken, of S. C. (Dem.) Banks, of Mass. (B. Rep.) Fuller, of Pa. (K. N.) Not a single Northern Know.Nothing Voted for Aiken! and the Fuller men sold the House to Giddings and Greeley. Let the Democracy, both North and South, stick a pin there till November, 1856. PRILABELPRIA.JR the city of brotherly love, the brothers of the dark lantern have be en busy in devising schemes of brotherly hatred to all man- kind except themselves. Excellent men; benevolent and pure-minded Christiansif they do not succeed in sinking themselves below the lowest deep of human infamy, providence will deal very hardly with them. Let us give them a fair recordLet us hear them for their cause, and put it down after the manner of a true Chronicle: So the KNOW-NOTHINGS came from the East and from the West; from the 18 1856.] Brown, of Pa. Clark, of N. Y. 257 258 Chronicle of ~he Afordk. [March, North and from the South, and gathered themselves together in one place. And it was so, that when they were all assembled, the like of that company for folly, rascality, and meannessWas never seen before. And when the Know-Nothings of the North had talked treason for many days, and the Know-Nothings of the South had listened, and licked their lips, and rolled it under their tongues like a sweet morsel, the whole band of foolish and ad- dle-headed traitors set them to work to make a platform~ for the nation. But when they counted noses, it was seen that the KNOW-NOTHING assem- bly was an ABOLITION donvention, and as all the world knew their princi- ples before, the wiser sort said unto the rest: Let us have no platform at all; for you see brethren, we have but one plank to make it of, and the less we say about that the better. And all the company said, Amen. Whereupon it was unanimously agreed, that the Southern brethren should betray their several States, in a quiet and sneaking way, to Abolitionism, and that Abolitionism in return should mercifully grant them the privilege of licking the dirt at its feet as l& ng as they liked. So the conclusion of the whole matter was a resolution, that the Order of Know-Nothings, together with all its affiliated orders, should be resolved into a grand NATIONAL Ano- LITION COUNCIL for the speedy suppression of slaves, and slaveholders; the disfranchisement of all foreign-born citizens; the support of the PROTESTANT religion; the persecution of Catholics, even to fire and sword, if necessary, and the election of a President sworn NOT to support the Constitution of the United States! Fellow-citizens! honest men of the North; brave bro- thers of the South, Know-Nothingism is before you now, open, confessed without disguise! If you have ceased to love one another; if you have ceased to love your country; if you no longer fear God, nor respect truth; if honor, virtue, manhood, bravery, no longer inhabit any corner of your heartssupport it! If you be yet MEN, fall into line with the Democratic party, and let the last entrenchment of the liberties of your country rather be filled with your honest dead, than that the black flagthe skull and cross-bones of Know-Ndthingism or African Republicanism shall float over the dismantled citadel of the Constitution. NEw-YoRKThe YOUNG MENS DEMOCRATIc UNION CLUB, of which the Editor of this Review has the honor to be President, celebrated the birth- day of Washington at Tammany Hall, February 22d. Gen. John A. Quit- man of Mississippi, C~k James L. Orr of South-Carolina, and Hon. Thomas G. Davidson of Louisiana, accepted the invitation of the Association, and addressed it on that occasion. The reports of their speeches have already appeared in the papers of the day. For the service performed upon that platform, the Democratic party of the Union owe those gentlemen a debt of gratitude the extent of which it is difficult to estimate. Unconnected 4vith faction, standing boldly and clearly on the Constitution and all the rights of all the States, pledged to the support of the nominee of the National Democratic Convention, the Young Mens Dc- 1856.] Chronicle of the iJfionth. 259 mocratic Union Club of New-York is the only political Association of the Northern States upon which the Dem~cracy can fearlessly rely which they can use as their rallying point in the Northern States, against every anti-National and anti-Democratic ism. The knowledge of this fact brought those distinguished gentlemen upon its platform, on the 22d of February, and their appearance there marks a memorable epoch in the his- tory of the Democratic party~ By their hands the South grasps the hand of the conservative Democracy of the North, and they mutually pledge themselves to each other till death do them part! It is an alliance offens- ive and defensive against every form of treason to the articles or any article of our national compact and confederation. The South shall be protected in the enjoyment of her legal and constitutional rights; the principle of self- government in State or territory shall be maintained at all hazards, and against all assailants. To this we have sworn, and God defend the right. We, the Democratic party, know no North, no South, no East, no West. Our oath of allegiance is to God, and our whole country; and we are the only party which dares to take that oath, or, having taken, have power to keep it! Let there be no misunderstanding among us. The providence of God has put upon us the solemn duty of guarding the sacred ark of our national covenant. With his blessing, we are able to do it. No unhallowed hand must touch it. The rights of Mississippi and South-Carolina are as dear to the Democratic party of New-York as their own. We will fight for them as long as they will. NEW-YORK declared for STATE RIGIITS before any other State ever raised its voice in their defense; and she will abide by them to the last. Misrepresented in the national councils, she may be for a single Congress, but her heart never changes; and even in that Congress she can boast a Joux KELLY a man whose single character is able to rescue her fame from the imputation of disloyalty to the Union; or dereliction from her duty to the whole country. She stands immovably fixed upon the sure foundation of Democracy and State Rights. Rally upon her, Democrats of the South as well as the North, and you will find her like the Old Guard at Marengo. Speak cheeringly to her from every quarter of the Union. She knows her own honest purpose towards you, and she likes to hear that you know it. Imitate Quitman, Orr, and Davidson; and re- memember when New-York, South-Carolina, Mississippi, and Louisiana join hands, and swear to one compact; when the Democratic party stands shoulder to shoulderNorth and Southno weapon forged against it can prosper; no temporary check can injure; no folly or treason of Know- Nothingism, or African Republicanism can harm either it, or the country of which it is the living bulwark! 260 Literary Notices. [March, LITEIIARY NOTICES. Letters from the United States, Cuba, and canada. By the Hon. Amelia ilfurray. C. P. Putnam ~ Co. Miss MURRAY begins off the Banks of Newfoundland a series of pen- sketches without breadth or color, and devoid of the picturesque. She gives no right and left views, but pushes through America on one little path; that, however, she examines closely for botanical specimens to carry to England. Her eyes being cast down, she does not catch many glimpses of the heart of American life. At Trenton Falls, she discovers a fern about the size of an Asplenium ruta muraria, not at all like the Pteris crispa. In Cuba a controversy waged in her mind, between the two palms common there She settled it finally by concluding that the Areca oleacea is no cocoa. This would have been well enough if Miss Murray had entitled her book a Botanical Excursion; for Botany is an admirable accomplishment for a lady to possess; but it seems out of place in letters that purport to be a way-diary for friends at home. She does one benefit, however, to her friends at home by her frequent dissertations on Slavery. It is tobe hoped that they will profit by them, and save us from the overfiowings of Exeter Hall philanthropy. Her re- marks differ entirely from those of Mrs. Stowe, for she regards our Southern brothers as philanthropists under the painful responsibility of slaveholding. Now and then she strikes out a social truth worthy of dissemination. She gives it as a fact that American ladies bestow those hours of leisure, which English women of the same class give to drawing, to the study of nature and mental cultivation, almost wholly on personal adornment. She fears that the national character of women in the United States, more resembles that of self-indulgent Asiatics than those of energetic Anglo-Saxons. Our dolls are devoted to the arts of the toilette, which are full of extravagance and artificiality. The magnificence of our hotels did not compensate her for paying board for herself and maid while absent, because her trunks were left at one of the princely mammoths. Travellers neither need nor desire gorgeous mirrors, silk curtains, and splendid carpets. But hotels are not furnished for travellers merely, but for fashionable dolls, who prefir hotel-life in order to get rid of housekeeping, and to indulge themselves in constant society; and where can dress be more displayed than at the table dhote of the St. Nicholas or the Astor? Miss Murray is right in saying she had rather abide in an English farm-house than be condemned to fritter away her life in a great American hotel. Notwithstanding her Gipsy Ex

Letters from the United States, Cuba, and Canada. By the Hon. Amelia Murray Literary Notices 260-261

260 Literary Notices. [March, LITEIIARY NOTICES. Letters from the United States, Cuba, and canada. By the Hon. Amelia ilfurray. C. P. Putnam ~ Co. Miss MURRAY begins off the Banks of Newfoundland a series of pen- sketches without breadth or color, and devoid of the picturesque. She gives no right and left views, but pushes through America on one little path; that, however, she examines closely for botanical specimens to carry to England. Her eyes being cast down, she does not catch many glimpses of the heart of American life. At Trenton Falls, she discovers a fern about the size of an Asplenium ruta muraria, not at all like the Pteris crispa. In Cuba a controversy waged in her mind, between the two palms common there She settled it finally by concluding that the Areca oleacea is no cocoa. This would have been well enough if Miss Murray had entitled her book a Botanical Excursion; for Botany is an admirable accomplishment for a lady to possess; but it seems out of place in letters that purport to be a way-diary for friends at home. She does one benefit, however, to her friends at home by her frequent dissertations on Slavery. It is tobe hoped that they will profit by them, and save us from the overfiowings of Exeter Hall philanthropy. Her re- marks differ entirely from those of Mrs. Stowe, for she regards our Southern brothers as philanthropists under the painful responsibility of slaveholding. Now and then she strikes out a social truth worthy of dissemination. She gives it as a fact that American ladies bestow those hours of leisure, which English women of the same class give to drawing, to the study of nature and mental cultivation, almost wholly on personal adornment. She fears that the national character of women in the United States, more resembles that of self-indulgent Asiatics than those of energetic Anglo-Saxons. Our dolls are devoted to the arts of the toilette, which are full of extravagance and artificiality. The magnificence of our hotels did not compensate her for paying board for herself and maid while absent, because her trunks were left at one of the princely mammoths. Travellers neither need nor desire gorgeous mirrors, silk curtains, and splendid carpets. But hotels are not furnished for travellers merely, but for fashionable dolls, who prefir hotel-life in order to get rid of housekeeping, and to indulge themselves in constant society; and where can dress be more displayed than at the table dhote of the St. Nicholas or the Astor? Miss Murray is right in saying she had rather abide in an English farm-house than be condemned to fritter away her life in a great American hotel. Notwithstanding her Gipsy Ex 1856.] Literary Noticeg. 2(31 pedition, in the region of the lakes, which by the way, is the most agreeable portion of the book, Miss Murray made but a drawing-room tour through this country. A Maid of Honor could not land upon our shores without being seized by the first families throughout the land. As first families are not always the best society, the dullness of Miss Murrays letters may per- haps be accounted for. The reading of her book confirms one in the opin- ion, that writing is a gift, not an art or an accomplishment. She is undoubt- edly cultivated and well read, and we have Putnams announcement of her birth, yet her composition would disgrace a penny-a-liner. The History of Religious Ideas. By L. Maria Child. New- York: Fran- cis ~ Co. Jr any thing pertaining to man, either in thoughts or deeds, be worthy of being handed down to remotest time, it is the history of his religious ideas. All other history deals with man in his relation to man, but this shows his relation to God: how near he comes to, or how far from, a just conception of his Maker, and how far his Maker has enlightened him in various ages and lands. His human history, so to speak, is colored by a thousand tri- vial circumstances, such as the customs of his ancestors, the whims of kings and queens, or perhaps the climate in which he lives; but his divine his- tory, the chronicle of his religious ideas, presents a systematic and compact whole, consistent with itself; and gradually developing into nearer and more perfect forms. As the soul is nobler than the body, so the history of religion is nobler than the history of nature. A work like this of Mrs. Childs has long been needed; not indeed by divines and scholars, with large libraries at their command, but by the mass of thoughtful readers, whose craving for knowledge exceeds their opportu- nities ; to all such it will be a handbook of curious religious lore. She be- gins at the earliest-known fountains of theology among the Egyptians and Hindoos, and traces the broadening and deepening current of religious ideas through the fertile plains of Greece and Rome, across the sands of the des- ert, and around the hoary snowy hills of Scandanavia, till it finally pours into the great ocean of Christendom. We see the nations encamped along its banks like the phantoms of a dream. In E~,ypt they worship Osiris, Isis, Orus, and their train, and sacred cats, bulls, and crocodiles without number: in India their hun- dred-handed Brahmas and Vishnus, and other monstrosities: there is no God but God, and Mohammed is his Prophet, in the east: Odin and Thor, and the beautiful Balder rule the northern skies: and in the heaven of the He~ brews and Christians, sits the inconceivable Three-in-One, the Ancient of Days. These, and many like gods and faiths pass ia review before Mrs. Child. She enters upon her task, as very few could, without bias or preju

The History of Religious Ideas. By L. Maria Child Literary Notices 261-262B

1856.] Literary Noticeg. 2(31 pedition, in the region of the lakes, which by the way, is the most agreeable portion of the book, Miss Murray made but a drawing-room tour through this country. A Maid of Honor could not land upon our shores without being seized by the first families throughout the land. As first families are not always the best society, the dullness of Miss Murrays letters may per- haps be accounted for. The reading of her book confirms one in the opin- ion, that writing is a gift, not an art or an accomplishment. She is undoubt- edly cultivated and well read, and we have Putnams announcement of her birth, yet her composition would disgrace a penny-a-liner. The History of Religious Ideas. By L. Maria Child. New- York: Fran- cis ~ Co. Jr any thing pertaining to man, either in thoughts or deeds, be worthy of being handed down to remotest time, it is the history of his religious ideas. All other history deals with man in his relation to man, but this shows his relation to God: how near he comes to, or how far from, a just conception of his Maker, and how far his Maker has enlightened him in various ages and lands. His human history, so to speak, is colored by a thousand tri- vial circumstances, such as the customs of his ancestors, the whims of kings and queens, or perhaps the climate in which he lives; but his divine his- tory, the chronicle of his religious ideas, presents a systematic and compact whole, consistent with itself; and gradually developing into nearer and more perfect forms. As the soul is nobler than the body, so the history of religion is nobler than the history of nature. A work like this of Mrs. Childs has long been needed; not indeed by divines and scholars, with large libraries at their command, but by the mass of thoughtful readers, whose craving for knowledge exceeds their opportu- nities ; to all such it will be a handbook of curious religious lore. She be- gins at the earliest-known fountains of theology among the Egyptians and Hindoos, and traces the broadening and deepening current of religious ideas through the fertile plains of Greece and Rome, across the sands of the des- ert, and around the hoary snowy hills of Scandanavia, till it finally pours into the great ocean of Christendom. We see the nations encamped along its banks like the phantoms of a dream. In E~,ypt they worship Osiris, Isis, Orus, and their train, and sacred cats, bulls, and crocodiles without number: in India their hun- dred-handed Brahmas and Vishnus, and other monstrosities: there is no God but God, and Mohammed is his Prophet, in the east: Odin and Thor, and the beautiful Balder rule the northern skies: and in the heaven of the He~ brews and Christians, sits the inconceivable Three-in-One, the Ancient of Days. These, and many like gods and faiths pass ia review before Mrs. Child. She enters upon her task, as very few could, without bias or preju 262 Literary Notices. [March, 1856. dice: gives the facts of religious history calmly and dispassionately, and leaves the reader to form his own conclusion in the premises. And after all, this seems to us, the only way of writing history properly. It is not what Mrs. Child, or Mr. Macaulay, or any body else thinks or believes that we want to know, but what the mass of men have thought and believed, and have said and done. The partisan character of a historian may make his work more energetic and brilliant than it would otherwise have been; but it always creates dissatisfaction and distrust in his fairness. No one doubts that Macaulays History of England is a splendid book, few are ver- dant enough to think it a fair one. If Mrs. Child has any fault, it is that she is too fair. Sectarian Christians will condemn her because she is not secta- rian. For ourselves, however, we confess to being pleased with her His- tory of Religious Ideas. It brings together a great deal of interesting matter from widely different sources, some of them not easily attainable. xl Zr C or mro~ooo j%Zr 00 OZrx~ZrZr O1OyOCZrd~.

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The United States Democratic review. / Volume 37, Issue 4 United States magazine, and Democratic review Democratic review United States review J.& H.G. Langley, etc. New York, etc. April 1856 0037 004
Great Britain and the United States 263-280

THE UNITED STATES DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. APRIL, 1856. GREAT BRITAIN AND THE UNITED STATES. IN a memorial presented to the President of the United States, and the Senate and House of Representatives, by the merchants and traders of the city of Baltimore, in the year 1806, they say: The relations which subsist between Great Britain and the United States rest upon the basis of reciprocal interests, and your memorialists see in those interests, as well as in the justice of the British government, and the firmness oar own, the best reasons to expect a satisfactory answer to their complaints. * * * The means of redress for the past, and security for the future, are respectfully, confi- dently submitted to your wisdom; but your memorialists can not forbear to indulge hope, which they would abandon with deep reluctance, that they may yet be found in amicable ex- planations with those who have ventured to inflict wrongs upon us, and to advance unjust pretensions, to our prejudice. In the same year William Pinckney, of Maryland, who was the author of the memorial referred to, was appointed Minister Extraordinary to the Court of St. James. Mr. Monroe was also at that time Minister-resident near that Court. If genius, learning, and patriotism could have succeeded in bringing the government of Great Britain to consider with impartiality the points at issue, those shining qualities were so happily 19 264 Great Britain and the United Sta~te8. [April, blended in our ministers that such a result could scarcely be doubtful. The expectations which based themselves, as in the Baltimore Memorial, upon the justice of the British gov- ernment, or, with apparently better foundation on the skill and character of our negotiators, were rudely disappointed. Those which arose from a confidence in the. firmness of the government of the United States received a noble confirmation. Very early after Mr. Pinckneys aTrival at his post, Sir John Nicholl, Kings Advocate-General, made a report in which he justified the British practice of impressing seamen on board of neutral vessels on the high seas. In a note to Mr. Monroe, Mr. Pinckney characterizes the report as shallow, and dis- misses it with that contemptuous epithet. Yet the Englisi ministry persisted in acting upon the principles laid down in Nicholls report, until the encounter between the President and Little Belt relieved diplomacy of its burden, and substi- tuted shot and shell for notes and protocols. In a word, seamen were impressed, often with circumstances of insult which aggravated the wrong, from beneath our flag; the rights, of neutrals invaded; compensation for spoliations of American commerce denied; the rule of the war of 1756 in- sisted upon; the orders in council of 1807 and 1809 Which in their motive, principle, and operation, were utterly incom- patible with our existence as a commercial peopleenforced, even after Napoleon had practically abandoned, with regard to the United States, the celebrated Berlin and Milan decrees; reparation for wrongs already committed; security against future aggression; even indeed the barren cou~rtesy of ex- planation contemptuously refused: and such an attitude as- sumed by Great Britain as left to the United States but one of two alternativeseither, with bated breath and whispered humbleness, to sue for mercy, to beg of his Majesty s minis- ters permission to exist on any terms they saw fit to grant, or to summon fate into the lists, and upon the ocean, and th~ battle-field, champion it tQ the utterance. The genius of the American people, at all times eminently warlike, naturally seized upon the latter. The brilliant feats of arms performe the successes achieved, on land and sea, by American conduct and valor, decided in our favor the points at issue between the two nations, and introduced into the General Code of in- ternational law the first recognition of the rule, that the flag covers the cargo. The sacredness of the persons of seamen beneath a neutral flag came also, as between Great Britain and the United States, to be tacitly admitted. 1850.] Great Britain and the United States. 265~ From that war the feeble and once-despised navy of 4he United States came out its forehead circled and adorned by the laurels it had torn from the brow of the naval genius of England. From that war the citizen soldiery of America came out, with a well-earned reputation, as the equals of Eng- lands most veteran regiments. From it the whole country issued with a just increase of confidence in its own power, dig- nity, resources, and capacity to resist aggression, and compel adherence to the faith of treaties. In the language of Mr. Cass, March 10th, 1856: When we entered. upon our last war with England our flag was con- temptuously designated as striped bunting, and our armed ships as fir-built frigates. But when we came out of it, that striped bunting had so often floated over St. Georges cross, and those fir-built frigates had so often re- deemed their character in desperate conflicts, and by capturing their oppo- nents, that even national vanity, in its own defense, was compelled to ad- mit the prowess of our gallant navy. Into that war, however, we did not enter until we were pushed upon it as our supreme remedy. We continued to ap- peal to English j ustice, and to persuade ourselves even against the stomach of our sense, that it would be accorded, until a long and persevering course of diplomatic insincerity, and frequent acts of wanton and unprovoked aggression, on the part of Great Britain, proved, irrefragably, that the siu~ gle motto of English policy was: That he. shall get who has the power, And he shall keep who can.~~ Actuated by the same spirit of forbearance, and anxious to cultivate the most friendly relations with a people whose real interests are, as it were, almost identified with our own, the government of the United States, from the termination of the war, and the treaty of Ghent in 1814, up to the present mo- ment, has constantly displayed a rare and admirable temper. An impartial history of that half-century would exhibit it to the world as a model of mingled firmness and forbearance. Unhappily, English ministers and diploniatists fail to. appre- ciate either the power or justice of the principle which con- trdls the policy of our government. Accustomed to. expedi- ency as the common guide of their own, they fancy, when we declare that all our intercourse and relationships with other States are governed by the inflexible rule, ~ to ask nothing but what is right, and submit to nothing that is wrong, 266 Great Britain and the United Stateg. [April, that we do no more than utter one of the sounding phrases with which diplomacy at once amuses and betrays. The mis- take is a grave one. The language of American diplomacy is not made to conceal its thoughts. The principle which main- tains our national existence is truth. To that principle the acts of all the agents of the Republic must conform. When they violate its spirit they cease to be the representatives or exponents of American pAnciples or policy. To that princi.. plc the conduct of the government of the United States has conformed; and by it its policy has been directed throughout the entire correspondence and negotiations with Great Britain, relative to Central America, and foreign enlistments upon Ame- rican soil. And if an all-wise but inscrutable Providence, should strike the present ministry of England with blindness to the careful forbearance we have manifested, as well as the insecure and perilous position they have too long and unwisely insisted upon maintaining; if every pacific means having been exhausted, as before, namely, in 181214, we should be compelled, by the interests and honor of a great nation, to vindicate the principles of its existence, and defend the rights on which its national future depends our government through all vicissitudes will, at least, be able to console it- self with the reflection, that it omitted no honorable means to avert the horrors of war, and appealed to the decision of God, only when hope had ceased in the justice of man. The attitude now occupied by the governments of Great Britain and the United States is precisely analagous to that in which they stood on the day that the President fired into the Little Belt. The line of demarcation between peace and war is often faint. A single slip of diplomatic India-rubber, and it is rubbed out. A single hot-headed naval captain, on a station which requires more coolness than courage; a single en- counter between the vessels of the two nations thousands of miles awayand the mischief is done. Is it the pur- pose of the English press to bring about such a state of thingsto provoke some fiery Tar to such an act? The tone they have lately adopted, silly as it is, affords very plausible reason to think so. Before they proceed farther in this business, it will be the part of wisdom for both the Eng- lish press, and the Cabinet of St. James~ to understand, that whilst the present Administration fully comprehends all the blessings of peace, it is not prepared to buy them by the sacri- flee of a single penny-worth either of principle or honor. It 1856] Great Britain~ and the United States. 267 will also much assist them in arriving at such a conclusion as results will warrant, to take as the basis of their calculations these facts, namely: That the American government clearly understands its position; that from that position it can neither be coaxed nor driven; that its policy being inseparably con- nected with all the interests of the country, commends itself to something better than the applause of sections or factions; that it is, therefore, backed by the common sentiment of patri- otism shared by all American citizens, and will receive their hearty and unanimous support; and, finally, that the gentle- man at the head of the State department, however it may be necessary to the feverish and unhealthy existence of certain partisan presses to attack and undervalue him, has long since proved himself the ablest war minister we have ever had; and is probably, the coolest, most astute and longest-headed Pre- mier in any cabinet existing at the present day. Let us examine for a moment the position which the honor- able Secretary of State now occupies. In our opinion that position has been wisely assumed. That it will be immovably maintained, the character of the man, the exigencies of the time, and the strongly-pronounced sentiment of the American people leave us no room to doubt. But to arrive at a just comprehension of that position we must commence at the be- ginning and follow all the steps which have, year by year, led up to it. To do so it will, in the first place, be necessary to give a digest of the history of the negotiations between the governments of Great Britain and the United States, on the subject of Central America; and also of the attempt on the part of the former to enlist American citizens, within the juris- diction of the latter, as material of war against a power with which we were then, and still continue to be not only at pro- found peace, but also upon intimate terms of friendship. Great Britain has claimed that a title to the Mosquito shore, by right of possession, accrued to her so early as the seven- teenth century. In the treaty with Spain, in 1786, she sur- rendered it, by the fourteenth article, to Spain. By the se- cond and third articles of the same treaty, a certain right was secured to British subjects in the district of country, lying along the shores of the Bay of Honduras, called the Belize That right was defined and laid down in the second article as being simply to enter such territory, and cut dye-wood and mahogany. In return for the concession of this right, Great Britain covenanted and agreed that her subjects should never use the right so limited, as an excuse or pretext for assuming 268 Great Britdin and t,4e United State8. [April, any other right, or exercising any other privilege within that district. Up to a late period no larger claims were advanced by the British government. Upon the Mosquito shore, sub- sequent to the treaty of 1786, she never had any rights, and the feeble effort made by the opposition in Parliament, in 1787, to assume even the right accruing from temporary occu- pancy and organization, was at once cried down and de- feated. There was yet some honesty in 1787. And in that very debate Lord Chancellor Thurlow, who defended the Ad- ministration, relied upon nothing but the clause re~pecting the Belize,~ and indeed denied, in terms, that either Great Bri- tain or the Mosquito Indians had any claims beyond what might be warranted by that clause. To the territorial extent, and for the limited uses described in the treaty of 1786, it has always been conceded by the government of the United States that Great Britain had the right to continue in the possession of the district known as the Belize. To any greater extent, or for any different purpose the legality of her assumptions has been denied and contested by us from the beginning. ilaving abandoned by the treaty of 1783, and yet more dis- tinctly by that of 1786, the Mosquito shore, that section of country was reincorporated with the Spanish crown. But the Mosquito Indians had been the allies of Great Britain in the war with Spain. She, therefore, stipulated with the latter that no act of severity should be exercised against them on that account. That was the whole extent of her Protectorate. Nor does it even appear that she was ever at any extraordi- nary pains to investigate whether his Catholic majesty kept faith upon that head, or whether he caused her dusky allies to be comfortably shot or hanged for the assistance they had afforded his enemies. When Great Britain determined to resume her dominion over the Mosquito shore, in the name of a protectorate, is not known with any degree of certainty in the United States. The first information on the subject, in the Department of State, at Washington, was contained in a dispatch of the 20th January, 1842, from William L. Murphy, Esq., special agent of the American government at Guatemala, in which he states that, in a conversation with Colonel McDonald at Belize, the latter had informed him he had discovered and sent docu- ments to England, which caused the British government to revive their claim to the Mosquito territory. This and subsequent information led to the negotiations, 1856.] Great Britain and the United States. 269 which resulted in the conclusion of the treaty of 1850, known as the Clayton-Buiwer Treaty. By that treaty of April 19th, 1850, it was agreed that a kind of joint protectorate should be exercised by Great Britain and the United States over a specific thing, namely, an inter-oceanic ship-canal, to con- nect the Atlantic and Pacific. They further agreed, that neither the one nor the other will ever obtain or maintain for itself; any exclusive control over the said ship-canal; agreeing that neither will ever erect or maintain any fortifications command- ing the same, or in the vicinity thereof; or occupy, or fortify, or colonize, or assume, or exercise any dominion over Nica- ragua, Costa Rica, the Mosquito coast, or any part of Central America.~~ But, at the time of the conclusion of this convention, Great Britain was in possession of the Island of Ruatan! What, and where was Ruatan? It was a Central American island, be- longing to the State of Honduras, and lying within thirty miles of her port of Truxillo. It was an island of great value and importance. Its harbors were fine, its position most com- manding. The key of the Bay of Honduras, its occupation or fortification by either party, to the treaty of 1850, was clearly a most insulting breach of the conditions of that convention. In the possession of either power, the commerce of the other, by the isthmus, must lie at the mercy of the occupant. What course did her Majestys government pursue? IDid they aban- don iRuatan? Did they comply, in good faith, with the terms and conditions of the treaty of 1850? On the contrary, they proceeded to new invasions both of its spirit and its letter. The island of IRuatan was captured in 1841 by Colonel McDonald, then her Britannic Majestys superintendent at Belize. Great Britain continued to occupy it up to the year 1850. She continues to do so to the present time. In 1850, and after the conclusion of the Claytou-Bulwer treaty, she established a colonial government over it. Nay, indeed, as if actuated by a spirit of insulting bravado; as if resolved to show that the purpose of her treaties was to bind others, whilst she remained legibus solutus, and unclogged by the respect or fear of any in her avarice of empire; as if bent upon securing her own ends, and acquiring, at whatever hazard, or by whatever faithlessness, a station from which she could command the great avenue of communication between the Atlantic seaboard of the United States and California she proceeded to occupy five other islands of the same group, and converted them all into the British colony of the Bay Islands. 270 G-reat Britctin~ and the rifnited State8. [April, Startled by these indications of a purpose inevitably hostile, in its result, to the continuance of a good understanding be- tween the two governments, the United States made strong representations to her Majestys government. Negotiations were commenced afresh, and dragged their slow length along until 1854. In that year, Mr. Buchanan submitted a state- ment, containing the majority of the points to which we have rqferred, to the Earl of Clarendon. By that statement he ad- vertised her Majestys ministers, in very plain and unequivo- cal terms, that the government of the United States seriously contested the claim of Great Britain to any part og or foothold upon the soil of Central America. That iRuatan, and the Bay Islands, were a part and portion of Central America. That Central America had assumed, from the circumstance of the railroads and ~anals proposed to be constructed through the isthmus, a peculiar value to all the commercial nations of the world. That the mutual desire of Great Britain and the United States to prevent each other from being placed in a position to exercise exclusive control, in peace or in war, over any of the grand thoroughfares between the two oceans, had been the controlling reason which dictated the Clayton and Bulwer convention. That for a good and valuable consi- deration, namely, the abstaining of the United States from oc- cupancy or fortification of any point in Central America, etc., etc., Great Britain clearly agreed not only to abstain in like manner, but also to withdraw from each and every possession she might have previously occupied~ except her limited occu- pancy of the Belize. And yet the British~ government, up till the present mo- ment, have not deemed it proper to take the first step towards the performance of their obligations under the convention, (of 1850.) They are still in the actual occupancy of nearly the whole coast of Central America, including the island of Rua- tan, in the very same manner that they were before its con- clusion. The animus of the British government having thus clearly manifested itself; and the fact that they did not intend to ad- here to the terms and conditions of the treaty of 1850, as plainly and unmistakably defined by words which would ad- mit of no other fair or honest construction than that put upon it by the government of the United States, the latter were compelled to ask that it should either be faithfully executed by both parties, or else cease to be used as a cloak to the Bri- tish government for acts and designs not only never contem 1856.] Great Britain and the United States. 271 plated by the government of the United States; but, on the contrary, intended to be expressly provided against by them, and supposed to have been so provided against by the treaty of 1850. Thus driven to the wall, the government of Great Britain was obliged to confess in effect that they never meant to observe the treaty; that it was in simple verity no more than a diplomatic trick and subterfuge. To have said this in so many words; to have said it frankly at last, would have re- flected some degree of credit upon her Majestys ministers. It would have indeed been a death-bed repentance; but at least better than norre at all. This was, however, a sacrifice to hon- esty and plainness of speech; a practical confession of their want of both, through the whole preceding negotiation, of which they were not capable. They replied, therefore, that the very evi- dent interpretation of the treaty of 1850 was that the United States should not colonize, fortify, acquire, or control, directly or indirectly, any part or portion of the states or territories of Central America; and also that England had magnanimously stipulated and agreed to adhere to the same conditions. But, of coursehow pleasing the irony of that of courseof course the terms of the treaty could have no reference to terri- tory possessed and held by Great Britain prior to the conclu- sion of the treaty of 1850. Which, in plain Saxon-English, was to say: What we have we mean to keep; and we merely nose-led our good simple cousin Jonathan into making that treaty for the purpose of preventing him from getting any thing for himself. The trade to California and China is en- tirely too valuable to be left to his control. We have the Bay Islands, therefore we mean to fortify and maintain our- selves there. They are the key of the door through which that trade must pass. Nobody shall have it but ourselves, and whenever it is necessary to maintain our commercial su- periority by shutting that door, we will shut it. Meantime, and for the purpose of amusing you, we will negotiate and diplomatize with you. You are very young. Wide-awake enough, perhaps, in small matters of trade and commerce. But you have a great deal to learn yet. The grand scope of British statesmanship; its prophetic grasp of the future, is quite beyond you. After we have amused you a few years with trifles suited to your age; put you, in fact, through your A, B, Cs, and horn-book of diplomacy, we will lay before you the complete British Reader, where among the elegant extracts treating of her skillful art to make the worse appear the better reason, you may disport yourselves, and learn a 272 Great Britain and the United State8. [April, great deal which will be useful to you for the next hun- dred years of your national existence. You ought to be sincerely grateful to us for the trouble we are taking to edu- cate you !We appreciate the benevolence of the proposition, and reply Miarcy !If you, gentlemen, Her Majestys adroit Ministers and astute Counsellors, can really out-wit him, we are perfectly willing to be matriculated as a member of the Freshman Class! in the Royal English College of Diplomacy. Till then we must be pardoned for saying, that, in our humble opinion, the present Cabinet of Great Britain is scarcely a body competent to complete the diplomatic educ~tion of either William L. Marcy or James Buchanan. A glance at the com- munication of Lord Clarendon, dated May 2d, 1854, and at Mr. Buchanans reply, July 22d, of the same year, will dispose most minds, we think, to the same opinion. After advancing afresh all the claims long since exploded, and drawing a pleas- ing, but airy and fanciful distinction between holding posses- sions in Mosquito, and holding the Mosquitos in possession, Lord Clarendon with a graceful air of disdain waves away the whole subject, and with a naYvet6 which would be delicious in a pretty woman, but which sits oddly enough on a wrinkled diplomatist, feels assured that the government of the United States will not be surprised if the government of Great Britain abstains from entering into any thing which might appear an explanation or defense of its conduct with regard to its long- established protectorate of the Mosquitos. It is painful to be com- pelled to disappoint his lordships expectation; but, by all the gods at once, that is the very thing which the government and people of the United States are surprised at. Possibly as no good reason can be given why one man should dislike a gaping pig, or why another can not bear a harmless necessary cat ; so none can be rendered why Her Majesty of England doth affect, with such a tender love, her royal cousin of Bluefields. Men of evil minds have suggested that her love for him is of much the same kind as the Wolfs in Little IRed Riding Hood, for that meritorious child; and that when, one of these days, his Sable Kingship of Mosquito shall inadvertently say, Dear Cousin Victoria, what a great big mouth you have ; the an- swer will be Thats to eat you all upmy dear ! Be that as it may, Lord Clarendon will be hanged and drawn first, before he will let the wolf out of the bag. So he waives the explanation, and gives us a very polite bow in its place. For the bow, as for all other mercies, we trust we may be made duly thankful. His lordship next lays down a new principle 1856.1 Great Britain and the United 8tates. 273 in the law of nations, namely, that when a part of an empire constitutes itself into a distinct sovereignty, and its independ- ence is recognized by civilized nations, including Great Britain, the rights of the original empire in the territory of which the new sovereignty is constituted are not transferred, and vested in the latter, or necessarily recognized as belonging to it by Her Majestys Government. By this happy fiction of English diplomatic law, the recognition of the Independence of the United States, by Great Britain, does not release any of the original rights of Great Britain to the territory of which they are composed. Does Her Majestys Government anticipate a time when it will be necessary for it to exert also a Protecto- rate over the United States, as well as Mosquito? Lord Clarendon also repudiates, with an ill-concealed sneer, the doctrine laid down by President Monroe in 1823that the American Continents, by the free and independent condi- tion which they have assumed and maintained, are henceforth not to be considered subjects for future colonization by any European powers. His Lordships sneer is ill-timed. Mr. Buchanan tells him that doctrine has received the public and official sanction of subsequent Presidents, as well of a very large majority of the American people. Here we have the American ministers plain-dealing contrasted with his lordships diplomatic shuffling, and we are compelled to think, that al- though Her Majestys government can not now admit it, before the question is finally settled to his lordships satisfac- tion or ours, Her Majestys government will, however reluc- tantly, concede that doctrine as an international axiom which ought to regulate the conduct of European States. Why, my lord, We, the American People, believe that doctrine to be truth as true as holy writ. We should deeply regret the necessity of propagating it by the sword, or of punishing re- sistance to it with bomb and round-shot; but it must have free course. We will preach, it to you in love, if you will hear. But if you will none of onr counsel, we must back our opinion with our steel. It is a great truth, that Monroe doctrine, may it please Her Majestys government. Our future greatness de- pends very much upon our maintaining it. We feel deeply sensible of that fact. God has joined us to these American continents,as man and wife are joined; and what God joins together, man must not put asunder. There may be questions about balances of power in Europe. There can be none with us. The United States are Ike power of this Western world. We say this very gently, and with great good-humor; but we 274 Great Britain and tke United States. [April, mean it. It is not a thing to rave about or bluster over. It is a plain substantive fact. We would be truly glad if her Majestys Ministers would accept it frankly, and to the end of the game play a brothers wager; but, if they will not, he that is the less cunning of fence will take nothing but his shame, and the odd hits. Nor can this information be dis- tasteful to Lord Clarendon, or Her Majestys government, since he declares distinctly, and with his hand upon his loyal Eng- lish heart, that Her Majestys government has no prospects of political ambition or aggrandizement with respect to Cen- tral America. Truly we rejoice to hear it. Our minds are much relieved. But why all this pother, then; why this en- gendering of malice; this sowing of uncharitableness; this in- crease of the British fleet in the West-Indies; these new regiments to Canada, and all the bellicose bluster, and bobadil swagger of the Times, and Chronicle, and Pos4 and Telegraph? What is it all about? You have no projects of ambition. Surely we have noneRepublican America can not be ambitious. That is a vice of kings. The royal rage of conquest, and godlike thirst for blood, is not a republican fail- ing. How much we think alike. At least Lord Clarendon says so. But Mr. Buchanan has found, it seems, inaccuracies in his lordships resum6 of the points in Mr. Buchanans statement of January 6, 18~4. Little gentlemanly slips, we presume: slight mistakes as to dates, facts, rights, principles, conse- quences, peace, war, and such like trifles. Ah! indeed. A rude, hard man, this Mr. Buchanan, and quite careless of his lordships shattered nerves. He insists upon correcting his lordships cakeology. We think we see the faded smile upon his lordships wearied face. These rude, naked truths, disgust- ing things with not a rag of deceit or flummery about them, are really shocking. How ill-bred to force Her Majestys Ministers to listen to them. But Mr. Buchanan has no pity no sentiment: he will do it. He is so rude and downright as to insist that the rights and duties of the parties must be regulated by the first article of the Convention of April 19th, 1850. He is so perseveringly careless of the feelings of his noble adversaries as to call their attention to that first article, and remind them that it declares that neither Great Britain nor the United States will ever occupy, fortify, colonize, etc., etc., any part of the country referred to by the Convention. Occupy. Let us print that word in italics, for that is the word, to use my Lord Castlereaghs 1856.] Great Britain and the United States6 276 remarkable trope, upon which the subject into which they have launched, chiefly hinges. Occupy! It is an English word. Now, good Mistress Doll Tear-Sheet, wert thou unwit- tingly a prophetess, and was Captain Pistol the renowned type of British statesmanship to all time: He a captain! Hang him, rogue! He lives upon mouldy stewed prunes, and dried cakes. A captain! these villains will make the word captain as odious as the word OCCUPY; which was an excellent good word before it was ill-sorted. Truly, so it was, but to be long of the same company with my Lords Palmerston and Claren- don is dangerous to the morality of any word, and our poor occupy has not come away from them scot-free. It has paid toll to their lordships~ mill, and a swinging toll-dish they keep, and having left both its morality and its meaning behind it, has come away not even unbolted flour, but a mere undistin- guishable mixture of shorts and chaff. How long Yankee good-nature will stand chaffing is another question. Also Mr. Senator Cass, a man than whom few living have a more intimate knowledge of:, or better appreciation of the character of English statesmen and diplomats, and the ten- dency of English principles, feelings, and designs with regard to this countryMr. Cass seems to be of our advice; for he says, in his place in the Senate, March 10th, 1856, speaking of the wholesale bragging and billingsgate of the English press: Some of the most violent of these papers are the supporters, and under the control of members of the Cabinet; and appreciate their own position too well to give utterance to a single thought on grave public matters unac- ceptable to their readers. When, therefore, I read well-turned periods of conciliation uttered by Lord Palmerston, in the House of Peers, while he holds on with characteristic tenacity to the last letter of his construction of the Clayton-Bulwer treaty, by which he maintains that the engagement on the part of England, that she will not occurv any part of Central America does not mean what it says, but it means that she will not occurr any morc of it than she claimed at the date of the treaty, or in other words, that she will not increase her occupationwhen I read this and then turn to the miserable diatribe, preeminent for its arrogant abuse, against the United States, which has recently appeared in his journal, the Morning Po8t, I am free to confess that the coarse effusion of the paper more than neutralizes the professions of the peer, and in my opinion speaks more truly his senti- ments. And further on, speaking of the magnanimous proposal of Great Britain to refer the meaning of the word Occur~, not to the first English Dictionary at hand, but to the arbitrament of a friendly powerhe says: I have seen no speeches in either house of the British Parliament which 276 Great Britain and the United States. [April, give rise to the least expectation that the views of the ministry will be changed respecting the differences arising out of the Clayton-Buiwer treaty. I see, indeed, there are intimations that they would be willing to submit these differences to the arbitrament of some friendly Power. For one, sir, I do not perceive how such a proposition can be accepted. The question in dispute is hardly a question for reference. It does not relate to disputed facts, nor to the fair construction of the engagements of the parties. It is a mere question as to the meaning of a wordthe word occupvto bring the matter within its narrowest compass. I should as soon think of refer- ring to arbitration the meaning of the words free, sovereign, and independent States, in the treaty of peace with Great Britain, which recognize our inde- pendence, as the words, occurv and assume and exercise dominion in the Clayton-Bulwer treaty. The former measure would be just as reasonable and honorable as the latter. No arbitrator, whether understanding the English language or not, can tell us better than we now know what a treaty means when it says that neither party shall occurv or. possess any dominion in Central America except in the single case provided for in the rider an- nexed to it. If any other OCCUPATION iS retained the treaty is violated, and we profess to know what OCCUPATION means without resorting to the lexico- graphical knowledge or good offices of friend or foe. If England can hold possession without OCCUPATION she may make out her case. If she can not, ours is made out. The reference of such a ques- tion would be but a subterfuge unworthy of our position and our cause. Well, indeed it may come to that; we may have to arbitrate the meaning of free, sovereign, and independent States, if Lord Clarendons gloss upon the law be correct, and recogniz- ing the independence of a government does not carry with it a recognition of the integrity of its territory. California, for instance, would be a valuable acquisition to the crown of Great Britain. Her Majestys government by no means anti- cipated the acquisition of California by the United States, when the peace of Versailles was concluded in 1783. On Lord C1arendon~s system of international moralities, Her Majestys government can quite as justly occu~~ California as Central .A.merica. But to the single point at issue, for this quibble about the meaning of a wo~d, which has but one meaning, may amuse, but can neither mislead nor deter the Government of the United States from the pursuit of justice. In the words of Mr. Buchanandoes the language of the Convention of 1850 require that Great Britain, shall withdraw from her existing possessions in Central America, including the Mosquito Coast? The British government says it does not. That it interferes with none of their existing possessions. That it is entirely prospective in its operation and effect. That it merely pro- hibits new acquisitions. To this, Mr. Buchanan replies: If this be the case, then it 1856.] Great Britain and the United ,States. 277 amounts to a recognition of their rights on the part of the American Government, to all the possessions which they already hold, whilst the United States have bound themselves by the very same instrument never, under any circumstances, to acquire the possession of a foot of territory in Central America. The mutuality of the Convention would thus be entirely destroyed; and whilst Great Britain may continue to hold nearly the whole eastern coast of Central America, the United States have abandoned the right for all future time to acquire any territory, or to receive into the American Union any of the States in that portion of their own continent. This self-imposed prohibition was the great objection to the treaty in the United States at the time of its conclusion, and was powerfully urged by some of the best men in the country. Had it been imagined that whilst it prohibited the United States from acquiring territory, under any possible circum- stances, in a portion of America through which their thorough- fares to California and Oregon must pass, the Convention, at the same time, permitted Great Britain to remain in the occu- pancy of all her existing possessions in that region, Mr. Bu- chanan expresses the confident conviction that there would not have been a single vote in the American Senate in favor of its ratification. In every discussion it was taken for granted that the Convention required Great Britain to withdraw from these possessions, and thus place the parties upon an exact equality in Central America. Such was the common sentiment of the government and people of the United States. If any alteration has taken place in that sentiment; if we no longer feel in as generous a mood, it is because the Government of Great Britain, not satisfied with equality, have clutched at exclusive power, dominion, and OCCUPANCY. Much as the word grates upon the fine nerves of the British Cabinet, we are forced to its repetition; and to re- peat to them also that to American ears that word occuPANcy, coupled with their knowledge of English governmental habits, means to have and to hold to their own special and exclu- sive use, benefit, and behoofand to the exclusion of all others. And, in plain words, the American government and American people will permit no such occupancy by any European power. This question must be discussed openly, and frankly for the people and in the peoples languagenot in the jargon of diplomacy. It is American childrens inheritance which is in dispute, and we will have no lordly uncles making babes in the woods of them. The next generation of 278 Great Britain and the United State*. [April, Americans will need all these continents for elbow-room. We can not have English forts and Bay Tsland colonies keeping toll-gates on our national highways. We desire to be on terms of peace and amity with all men; but the friendship of the greatest European nation, if it be only to be bought by a sacri- fice of the principle of our own national growth, by a mort- gage upon property already vested in us, or even by a post obi4 is too dear for our market. Therefore to the following lan- guage of Mr. Cass we may say most heartily, Amen: This very state of things, however, renders it but the more proper to regard with careful attention the course and conduct of other nations, the pretensions they advance, and the results which their measures appear to foreshadow. Obvious as this duty is, it is scarcely ever fulfilled, but the cry immediately goes forth, and often from this place, that war is desired. It is an idle charge, sir; scarcely deserving serious refutation. To adopt the side of our country in her dispute with a foreign Power is not to desire war; it is to desire that humiliating concessions should not be made, but that if war is forced upon us we should be ready to meet its responsibilities. Its true aim is to avert war, not to invite it. To avert it by showing that we are aware of our position, and are not to be driven from it by arrogance or injustice. My friend from Tennessee, (Mr. Bell,) as true a patriot as we have among us, in his remark the other day, fell into this error. He re- newed the oft-repeated story of my bellicose disposition towards England, (this is his word, not mine,) founding the charge upon nothing better than the freedom with which I examine her pretensions, and the earnest desire I expressed, as I am convinced that my country is right, that she will yield nothing to the unjust demands made upon her. The Senator seemed to think that this course of discussion here would be considered by England as a determination to cut the gordian knot with the sword. So be it, sir, if she has the arrogance to view the debates here as trenching upon her rights and honor, as a menace, to adopt a phrase which the Senator used upon that occasion. If the statesmen and people of England, in that spirit of assumption so often displayed in her history, connect the free discussion of our cause with the determination, to appeal from the arbitrament of reason to that of force, let them learn to correct their errors in the school of expe- rience. I repeat what I before saidthe people of this country desire no war with England. Every man knows the calamities which such a rupture would bring with it; and certainly, at my time of life, and with the expe- rience I have had, I am among the last to look with satisfaction upon such a prospect. But we are not to lay our hands upon our mouths, nor our mouths in the dust, lest foreign Powers should see in the examination of their con- duct a foregone determination to engage in hostilities. I agree at least with one sentiment recently advanced by Lord Pahuerston, that what a govern- ment has to consider is the justice of its cause. and what is befitting the honor and dignity of the country. That, I trust, will ever be our rule of action, and if it leads to peace, so much the better; but if to war, we should meet it as we may. We find no example, either formerly or recently in English history, of this careful attention to the feelings of another nation, and of this studied purpose to avoid giving offense by avoiding the discus- sion of national differences. Why, sir, the people and the press of England 1856.] Great Britain and the United 8tates. 279 are equally violent in their denunciations of our country and her position. I am not going to quote the terms of abuse so lavishly employed. They show how improvement follows practice; for in the extensive experience we have heretofore had in the receipt of similar national favors, we have re- ~ceived none more significant than these. With one fact we are particularly struck, and that is, the vastly superior ability of Mr. Secretary Mar~y over his British opponents. His whole course has been cool, dig- nified, temperate, and honest; whilst that of Her Majestys Ministers has unfortunately developed exactly the opposite qualities; and we are at a loss to decide which is the more amusing, their clumsiness or their irascibility. Nor do we imagine that in the hands of Mr. Dallas the interests of the United States will be exposed to any greater hazard; or that Her Majestys Ministers will find in him a less worthy antagonist than his predecessor. The whole course of this discussion, both in England and America tends very clearly to show two things: first, that England means to occuPY; and if right will not support her occupation, she will go near to try what might will do for it; and second, that the government and people of the United States do not mean that she shall occuPy; and if right will not persuade her to retire, they will go near to try what might can do in the premises. We had intended to consider the vexed question of British Enlistments in the United States, but our space warns us that the subject must be laid over. In conclusion of the Central American question, we have merely to say, that the government of the United States and the people of the United States are of one accord in that matter; and while, as a commercial people we deprecate war, as a people chary of their honor, and alive to the vast significance of the question, we are ready, if God will it, upon this issue to fight until our eye-lids can no longer wag. We will admit but one line of consideration, namely, the justice of our cause, and what is befitting the honor and dignity of the country. 20 2S0 an~spldntedL [April, TRANSPLANT E P~ ONE bud the Gardener gave me,. A fair, and only child; He gave it to my keeping, To cherishundefiled. Ft lay upon my bosom; It was my hope, my pride; Perhaps it was an idol, Which I must be denied: For, just as it was opening In glory to the day, Came down the Heavenly Gardener,. And took my bud away.. Yet not in wrath he took it, A smile was on his face, And tenderly and gently He bore it from its place~ Fear not, methought he whispered. Thy bud shall be restored; I take it but to plant it In the garden of the Lord. Then bid me not to sorrow,. As they who hopeless weep . For He who gave, hath taken, And he who took, can keep.. And night and morn together,. By the open gate of prayer,. Ill go in to my darling, And sit beside her them~.

S. W. C. C., S. W. Transplanted 280-281

2S0 an~spldntedL [April, TRANSPLANT E P~ ONE bud the Gardener gave me,. A fair, and only child; He gave it to my keeping, To cherishundefiled. Ft lay upon my bosom; It was my hope, my pride; Perhaps it was an idol, Which I must be denied: For, just as it was opening In glory to the day, Came down the Heavenly Gardener,. And took my bud away.. Yet not in wrath he took it, A smile was on his face, And tenderly and gently He bore it from its place~ Fear not, methought he whispered. Thy bud shall be restored; I take it but to plant it In the garden of the Lord. Then bid me not to sorrow,. As they who hopeless weep . For He who gave, hath taken, And he who took, can keep.. And night and morn together,. By the open gate of prayer,. Ill go in to my darling, And sit beside her them~. 1856.] William Word8worth. 281 I know twill open to me, Poor sinner though I be, For His dear sake who keeps it, And keeps my bud for me. s. w. c. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. PART FIRST. IN the year 1794, there arrived at Bristol in England, three young men, of marked physiognomy and striking personal appearance. Their ages were about the same. They attracted immediate noticenot only from the fact of their being noticea- ble menbut more generally, from the singular ideas of society they professed to entertain, and were then endeavoring to carry out, with all the ardor and enthusiasm of youth. One of theseperhaps the least marked of any of themdied early; not too early, however, to learn how completely all their hopes of common happinessor rather of happiness in common vanished away before those realities of life which must be everywhere met and resisted. He is not now known, except- ing from this association. The other two attracted the attention of a somewhat influ- ential and very worthy citizen of Bristol. He saw at once they were no common men. He took them by the hand, when he beheld them struggling with difficulties, but ambitious of fame. He opened his purse for their use. He gave them the first assistance they received over that long and weary road they were hereafter destined to travel. All honc~r to Joseph Cottle, the Bristol bookseller, who thus early acknowledged the in- spirations, and thus warmly encouraged the unessayed strength of Robert Southey and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Of the former it may be remarked in passing, that he was one of the best-abused men of his day. He was naturally of a most ardent and sanguine temperament. He threw his whole

William Wordsworth 281-296

1856.] William Word8worth. 281 I know twill open to me, Poor sinner though I be, For His dear sake who keeps it, And keeps my bud for me. s. w. c. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. PART FIRST. IN the year 1794, there arrived at Bristol in England, three young men, of marked physiognomy and striking personal appearance. Their ages were about the same. They attracted immediate noticenot only from the fact of their being noticea- ble menbut more generally, from the singular ideas of society they professed to entertain, and were then endeavoring to carry out, with all the ardor and enthusiasm of youth. One of theseperhaps the least marked of any of themdied early; not too early, however, to learn how completely all their hopes of common happinessor rather of happiness in common vanished away before those realities of life which must be everywhere met and resisted. He is not now known, except- ing from this association. The other two attracted the attention of a somewhat influ- ential and very worthy citizen of Bristol. He saw at once they were no common men. He took them by the hand, when he beheld them struggling with difficulties, but ambitious of fame. He opened his purse for their use. He gave them the first assistance they received over that long and weary road they were hereafter destined to travel. All honc~r to Joseph Cottle, the Bristol bookseller, who thus early acknowledged the in- spirations, and thus warmly encouraged the unessayed strength of Robert Southey and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Of the former it may be remarked in passing, that he was one of the best-abused men of his day. He was naturally of a most ardent and sanguine temperament. He threw his whole IVilliam TFord8wort Ii. 282 [April, soul into whatever he undertook. He was as much in earnest when he indulged his visionary anticipations of Arcadian de- lights on the banks of the Susciuehanna~, as when, after years of bitter experience and disappointment, he labored for his daily bread, among the cobwebs of the commonwealth that darkened the prison of the Tinker of Elstow, and the glories that gathered round the British throne from the flag-ship of the Hero of Trafalgar. Hence he has been charged with gross inconsist& ncies. The author of Wat Tyler, it is said, should have been more careful of appearances. But an honest and sincere man can never reject his own conscientious convictions. The same earnestness, which in early life threw him into the thickest of what he then regarded as the battles of humanity, will, even when the judgment of later years has been matured by experieiice, and mellowed by chastenings and changes, still carry him forward, with higher faith, to better purposes. Thus it is we love to look upon Southey. We see him, with that noble appearance which drew from Byron his sneering admis- sionwith high hopes and manly aspirations, momentarily carried away by an ignis-fatnus light, which of itself we knew must soon disappear, yet ever and always aiming at the high- eststruggling through adversity, and opposition, and the desertion of friends, for a name that men would not willingly let diegiving all his life to the glory of his country and for the immortality of fameworn out at last, and dying in har- nessfitly represented by the mailed warrior sleeping on his tomb! In speaking of Coleridge, especially in speaking to praise him, we must separate the man from his memory. Dc mor- tuis nil, nisi bonum. Never was this truism more aptly illus- trated than in his example. We are all familiar with the extraordinary effects of his colloquial powers, and the peculiar influence he exerted in the public lecture-room and at the social board. In every house he was a welcome guest. On every highway he travelled, he was the delight of his educated, and the astonishment of his illiterate companions. With them, his name was the Wizard. But he was unfortunate and un- successful in all his undertakings. Neither genius, or intellect, or influenceneither the open admiration of the public, nor the private encouragement and warnings of those who knew him best, and loved him most, and who were earnestly anxious that he should redeem himself from the thraldom of increasing propensities and habits, could avail to secure that respect which all were desirous of yielding to his virtues, while they could 1856.1 WiUiarn~ Wordsworth. 283 not deny the homage they offered to his name. That part of Cottles Reminiscences which refers to Coleridge, is a melan- choly narrative. The old man is unwilling to give up his early friend. He seems to linger around him, as if in the hope that a part, at least, of his long-formed and cherished wishes may be realized. We close the volume with a heavy feeling; and turn from the man to his works, wi~th the gentler aspiration, that the remains of such rare and noble endowments may go down to posterity mellowed by the soft and refining light of timeeven as the grand old ruins of antiquity stand before the traveller of to-day, hoary with the ages that hang around them, but sanctified as the relics of glory and greatness long passed away. There is still standing in the back-ground another personage, whom we now bring forward to form the triumvirate; well known to his comrades, as a man of modest and sterling worth, and whose disposition is of that persuasive charactermild, calm, and evenwhich scarcely seems to admit of a close alli- ance with the enthusiasm and social impulsiveness of the others. They are all friends together. Their object and end of life is the same. They have but one purpose in view, though differ- ent parts are given to each. They look forward to its accom- plishment, knowing that much has to be undertaken, much endured, much resisted, and much overcome. Of these, the latest in orderbut facile princepsis William Wordsworth. It is but a few years ago since he passed from among us~ His sun went down clear and unclouded. He lived to a hale and hearty old age. His home was on the shore of the beau- tiftil Lakes of Cumberland. Behind it, the bold mountains looked up everlastingly to the sky. Many a time in manhood had he wandered on their steep and shaggy sides. Indeed, nature was to him a peculiar and essential home. Waters, and trees, and flowers, and the song of birds, for him had voices of silent melodyfor him had murmurs of perpetual praise. He consecrated his life to the worship of that beautiful spirit, which has ever presided over the high imaginings of the human mind. But with it was blended another feeling, by him ac- knowledged as indispensable to the true cultivation, both of the intellect and the heart. In earnestness and in faith, he pursued the profession of his life; in earnestnesswith the knowledge and love of all things around him; and in faith as having before him, the evidence of things not seen. For him, Religion sanctified the teachings of Nature, and gave her 284 JVillia?n IFord& wortk. [April, the privilege of leading from joy to joyof so informing the mind, and feeding it with lofty thoughts, that not even The sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Should eer prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings. The early life of all great Poets is generally the same. It is a record of continued struggles, oppositions, and disappoint- ments. A few may have escaped the severity of the common fate; but all have shared, more or less, in its crosses and vexa- tioushave experienced the bitterness of povertymourned the loss of friendsor suffered unjustly from the effects of sel- fishness, persecution, and prejudice. So strongly indeed is this believed to be the case, that most young bards, when they have failed in their first essays, immediately fly for consolation to the verdict of posterity. It sometimes happens that a true poet is not recognized by his own generation. He may have labored under peculiar disadvantages, and been affected by particular circumstances; and these may have arisen through his own fault, the fault of others, or most probably of both. But generally speakingand especially as education advances, will it more certainly be the caseno man of marked origi- nality and true inventive genius, will escape the notice, or finally fail in receiving the admiration of his contemporaries. This was the case with Wordsworth. He came forward in a singular manner. His own claims were out of the common track. The English ear had long become insensible to any thing but the monotonous melody of Pope, and still craved for some new and rougher Dryden, to satirize the men and manners of the times. The latter was a child of the commonwealth; but neveras Johnson in no very enviable mood remarks after its dissolution, came up to the promise of the flattery he laid on its Protector. When that passed away, to use an old proverb, he cut his coat according to his cloth; and became a smatterer of Religion, by way of pleasing a venal and licen- tious Monarch. He does not bear the true mint stamp. There were many who made good verses after the fashion of Pope. It is well known that he was Johnsons model. The great Book -Worm had knowledge enough to be a poet, but it was not of the right kind. Excepting his tour to the Hebrides, and a short visit to Paris, he had never travelled outside of 1856.] iFiUjarn Ifordswort~. 285 London. That was his world. No man can ever be great from imitation or learningleast of all, a great poet. Obser- vation, and experience, and a knowledge of men and things as well as booksan eye that loves td look on nature in all her changing moods, and a heart that can understand and appreci- ate the common sympathies and charities of lifeabove all, a taste for those objects on which the imagination is to be exer- cised, and an earnest application for the development of the high faculties connected with itthese all are of the essence of poetry. You may have them all, and yet not be a poet out- wardlythat is, not convince others that you are onebut to be one, you must have them. The dissertation in 1~asselas describes the poetical education grandiloquently; but we very much doubt whether JQhnson was not more sensitive to the rounding of his sentences than to their substance and truth. Hence he was a good imitator in poetry, and with the tools of some masters, produced admirable specimens of the same kind of work; but he could make nothing original. About this time also, several other stars began to appear in the literary firmament. Shelley was, head and soul, an Atheist. He absolutely believed in nothingunless it were in some creation of his own brain. There is no great name in English history, for whom we have so little sympathy or respect. In his scope of imagination and powers of intellect, he may have been all, and even more than his friends asserted of him; but not the most varied attainments, nor the most gorgeous and lavish display of mental riches, can ever make up for the ab- ~ence of that higher feeling of reverence and love, which sanc- tifies the gifts of the Creator as blessings to mankind. One unyielding, unbending, unelastic spirit, seems to pervade all his poetry. Outwardly, it is not the freshness of the morning dew-dropsinwardly, it is not the crystalelearness of the foun- tain, or the dripping cave~ There is something wanting here wanting therewanting everywhere; that indescribable influ- ence, which, like the breathing of the wind, we can not see either coming or going. It is the hardness of self-relianceof self-creatednessof presumptuous power; the elevation of the intellect to a lordly sphere; which, as it did not at first call into being, so it never afterwards can regulate or control as one of the superior intelligences, or orders bright. It is this mournful failurewhere every man, as a poet, must necessa- rily and eternally failthat gives to his higher strains some- thing of the subduing interest of a shipwreck. How beauti 286 William Wordsworth. [April, ful is Sleep! Sleep, and his brother, Death !77* The same kind of feeling comes over u; we fancy we should have experienced, had we been called to stand on the shore of the Alpine Lake, as sad and silent spectators of that melancholy funeral pyre! It is hardly necessary to say much of Byron. He emerged from the horizon like a brilliant meteor. From his birth and rank in society, he attracted universal attention. The peculiar circumstances under whfch he came forward as a candidate for public favor, won all hearts to his side. The praise of his per- sonal beauty, was a gilded cup of flattery. No great name ever appeared in English poetry, with such auspicious omens to cheer it on. It is remarkable, that the depth and character of Byrons poetry, sprung from the single intensity of his hate. His mind had been early and fatally warped. Under the in- fluence of the peculiar circumstances above referred to, operat- ing on his sensitive and excited feelings, he imagined that the fairest hopes of his youth were blasted, and the bright visions of love and beauty for ever dimmed before his eyes. There can we think be no doubt, that if these latent feelings had not been thus early developed from the accident of his birth and the injudiciousness of his domestic education, England might have lost an illustrious poet, but would have gained a virtuous and valuable citizen. Many persons will perhaps be surprised to hear, that Byron owed much to Scott and Wordsworth. They judge from his letters, that he was not familiar with their writings. But such is not the fact. We can not stop to point them out nowthe case rests entirely on internal evidence but he should never have sneered at the Lakers unless he had previously destroyed the Giaour. It is by his descriptive pieces, that he will be best known to posterity. Some of these seem to be almost above praise. We can by no means agree with those, who make it a point to re- fuse him all merit. He was a strong admirer of Pope; but more than any other person, he broke up the regular monotony of his cadences and periods, and threw into his heroic rhyme the relief of those varied pauses, which add so much to the pleasure and dignity of heroic verse. As far as we can now judge, he was not a godless nor an unbelieving man. We arc almost certain that his heart was on the side of religion; but the errors of education, and the pride of nature seemed to rebel against its acknowledgment. With more genius than * We think, almost with a start, of the Revolutionary inscription over the gates of the French Cemetery. [856.] Urillicum Word8wort,4. 28~ Thomson, his place will probably be assigned to him in the same rank. We have yet another name to place on our discursive cata- logue. When Keats died, England mourned. There has been no such promise since the days of Milton. Of all Englishmen, he wears the richest poetic dress. Its beauty and lustre remind us of the foliage, and fruits, and flowers of tropic climes. Every variety of color is arranged in the most natural and tasteful manner. Over all is thrown the softened light of a setting summer sun. We have never been made acquainted with his religions ten- dencies. His mind was essentially classical, He loved to wander in the shades of Grecian Mythology. His imagination went out with those fabled gods and goddesses, ~ walk through the consecrated woods, to linger by the mystic foun. tam, to bathe in the dews of the midnight moonbeams that trembled to awaken the dreams of the beautiful sleeper. No- thing like this was ever akin to infidelity. Miss Barrett de. scribes Lucretius, as nobler than his mood, Who dropped his plummet down the broad, Deep universe, and saidNo God! Finding no bottom, he denied Divinely the Divine, and died, Chief Poet on the Tiber side. By grace of God. and ~aidNo God! Now is it possible for an Atheist, on any known principle in nature, to be a poet? Just think of it for a monlent. His impressions must all be taken from nature, and yet he set himself up entirely above nature. There is neither reason norfeeling to support him. One leaves him half- way, and the other never comes near him. His pride and pre- sumption are equally ridiculous. His forms of beauty are square, ideal images, wanting that shadowy outline and fading perspective, which alone are able to reveal the true grace and expression of Art. In those professions, where sun, and sky, and earth are the primary fountains of imagina~tion, the Atheist is to the believer what a Chinese picture is to the landscape of Claude, or a Hindoo idol to the statues of Canova. Lucretius, though the writer of the most splen- did Latin extant, was nevertheless a philosophical hypo- crite; and was vain enough to imagine that the world would 288 IFillict in Word8wortk. [April, be the gainer, by substituting logical axioms, and implied personifications of nonentitiesfor we can not better de- scribe themin place of those higher though to us still imperfect representations of piety, which have consecrated the genius of Homer and Virgil to the last recorded time Whatever may have been the convictions of Keats on this sub- ject, we feel quite sure they were not those of Godwin and Shelley. But this we never can know. He is silent nowto misapply his own line Silent upon a peak of Darien. From this digression, we must now return to Wordsworth. We spoke of his claims as being out of the common track. He put forth an idea which startled the poetical world; but it was in fact, no more than what has been acted on, ever since the first line of poetry was written or sung. It was simply an ex- pression, in so many words, that the highest efforts of the imagi- nation need not necessarily imply a connection with those higher objects which have always appeared to be associated with it. To those who were then living in a highly-cultivated age, and for whom the refinements of education had culled out the choicest specimens of wit and learning, such an idea seemed hardly worth refuting. They had always taken it for granted, that heroic verse must have in its conception, something pecu- liarly striking and originaloriginal, we mean, in that sense which means something entirely newand had hence been led to consider, that the province of a great poet lies outside of the beaten paths of humanity, and that the man himself must be above the common pursuits of life. But Wordsworth made no rash or vain-glorious assertion. His life had been conse- crated to the study of one great Art. He had made it his profession, his hope, his love. He knew that he must main- tain an obstinate struggle a,ainst the misapprehensioii of its nature, and the misapplication of its principles. He knew this perhaps all the better from the fact, that ~is first conflict had been with his own impressions. We think that Wordsworth was right. We generally believe that the earliest poets are the best; and that those who come after them can only succeed in giving pleasure, by new combi- nations of th~ same images, and different expressions of the same ideas. In carrying out this isolated notionwith which there is nothing analogous in the moral or natural worldit is even deemed proper to go still further, and claim for its object a peculiar exemption from the trammels of artificial or acquired knowledge, and a sure reliance on some kind of inspiration or rapture, which is to come from above, we know not when or how, 1856.] W~iUia9n iWordsworth. 289 and to lead we know not whither. It is true indeed, that the name YatesProphet or Seerwas first used by those who min- istered at the sacred oracles. In this way we can easily account for its popular veneration. But it by no means follows, that the assumption of the name for somewhat different purposes, was accompanied by the same titles and privileges. Every one knows, that in early days the traditions of the people were preserved and handed down by voice and song. Every one also knows, that the effects of some of these, at certain times and under certain circumstances, have been represented as ex- traordinarily powerful and mysterious. This is to be attri- buted as much to the character of the people, as to the magic influences of music and verse. Besides, half-civilized nations make use of the images of objects and things, as tbe represen- tatives of sound; and by this means, the early languages were at once the most simple and the most comprehensive. Now this fact has given rise to an idea, more or less preva- lent among all critics, that the early languages were far better adapted for poetic uses, than those of modern times; and that as the world progressed in the refinements of social and mental culture, and particularly as the imitative arts opened and expanded over the dwellings of mankind, the employment of words became so common as to designate the varieties of each particular speciesthus lessening by degrees their figura- tive meaning, and finally losing sight entirely of their symbolic character. We do not believe one word of it. Do those who are thus credulous, really wish to go back to the pristine ages of the world to give up all that has been acquired by centu- ries of experience, and intelligence, and progress; to become again the rude barbarian, the wild man of the woods, clothed with skins, and living in dens and caves of the forests; to be again subject to the lawlessness of rude strength, to have 110 rights of property, and at the best, to be only partially secure in their own dwellings, and by their own firesides? And all for what? In order to get rid of a few words which have grown up to suit the wants and usages of the world; and which in fact are not out of place, because they prevent a cir- cuitous explanation through signs and figures, which of them- selves required a long, and often ended in a vague and unsatis- factory explanation. On this principle, the hieroglyphics of Egypt, and the picture-writings of Central America, are the grandest poems extant. Nor do the above assertions derogate, in any manner, from the distinguished functions of the poetical priesthood. The 290 William TVord8worth. [April, Poetthe Yates, Prophet, or Seeris still the same. lie is still, as ever, a sacred minister. Because the world has grown older, and wiser, and richer, he has therefore lost none of the freshness of his early piety, nor any of the mystic halo of The light that never was on sea or land, The consecration, and the poets dream. Through all the increase and development of social thought over all the excursions of science, and all the grand discoveries that have rolled along on the wheels of human progressby new lights and old onesby true lights and false onesin the modern tongue of the West, as well as in ancient Eastern sym- bolismhave there still gone forth utterances from that Spirit of high communion, and visitation of the living God; trans- cending the imperfect offices of prayer and praise, and making all things a sound of blessedness and love. But we must now take leave of the subject; and hasten on to a more particular examination of the manner in which the Poet has exemplified the thought and theory of his own voca- tion. Were the world a thousand times better or worse than it is, and the men of the present generation above or below the standard of their predecessors, it would not affect either the truth or justice of those ideas, whose influence extends alike over the grandeur of human strength, and the weakness of human prejudices. Detractors of every kind have been found in every age. There will always be some who hate to hear Aristides called the just. Wordsworth outlived the most of his calumniators, and lived to see the whole crowd of them out-voted, and put to confusion. The nature of his subjects, is the first point to which we would call attention. He never strains after lofty themes. By this we do not mean to say, that he is happy in all his selec- tions. Any man who follows one ruling idea, or in common language, rides a hobby, is sure to fall into some kind of ab- surdities. The experience of a few years is necessary to correct the errors of moulding, and top off the useless and unsightly excrescences. So it was with Wordsworth. His early ten- dency was to extremes. This, however, is a fault on the right side. - No bad consequences will follow, unless the judgment be depraved or the heart perverted. What we would wish to say more particularly in this place, can best be understood by glancing over the index of his writings. There are found side by side, whatever may please the humblest, and whatever may satisfy 1856.] William Word8worth. 291 the purest and most cultivated taste. There is pastoral Michael, and classic LaodamiasimpleWe are Seven, and the sublime Ode the Maiden by the Dove, and the Shepherd Lordthe Cum- berland Beggar, and lines on the River Wycthe Miscellaneous Sonnets, and Goody Blake and Harry Gill. No writer in the English language, has thrown these lights and shadows in such beautiful distinctness, over the pathway of English poetry. They are like well-springs of water poured out to enrich a dry and uncultivated soil. We rejoice that one man was raised up, to develop by all the powers of a humble and happy life, these healthful, moral, and natural influences. And we rejoice the more, because he was that bane of all practical mena Poetevery whit as much a man in this busy, work- ing-day world of ours, as if he had proclaimed it by advocat- ing some one of its many noisy and contentious systems of charity; one for whom has been breathed the beautiful invo- cation: Blessings be with them, and eternal praise The Poetswho, on earth, have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight, by heavenly lays. It is no part of our present purpose to enter into any analy- sis of Wordsworths theory. That we deem entirely unneces- sary, and, what to some may appear strange, irrelevant. To say that he proved it, amounts to nothirtg. The fact is, that theory was part and parcel of the dominion of poetry. The resistance he met with in the start, arose mainly from ignor- ance. He stood in the light of an adventurer just setting out on a voyage of discovery. He journeyed far over unknown waters and into unexplored countries; he did not seek for gold, or jewels, or treasures, though these were all there; he found a people of simple and primeval habits, unaccustomed to the fictitious wants of civilized life, whose wishes were con- fined to a narrow circle, whose world was bounded by their single district, who lived where their fathers lived, and died where their fathers died; and he brought back, as evidences of having dwelt among them, those trophies of success now everywhere recognized as gathered from the ample domain of nature. The only wonder now is, why the route he took was never travelled before. There is therefore not much to be gained by laying any particular stress on this portion of our subject, as our business is with the man, and not with the theory. The distinguishing feature of Wordsworths poetry, is its 202 William Wordsworth. [April, meditative, or enthusiastic character. Perhaps some persons may smile at this classification. We can console ourselves, however, by believing, that enthusiasm is something different from folly or extravagance. We have yet to be convinced that any genuine poet ever went wild from fits or trances. Our faith in religion and the philosophy of the human mind, has in it something higher and surer than such a creed. Did we believe in that we would pride ourselves on doing something better than writing this article. And since we have gone thus far, we may as well say in addition, that when we speak of enthu. siasm, we take it in the good old English acceptation of the Word. It can perhaps be best defined by negatives. It is not a rapt or visionary imagination; it is not an irregular overflow of feeling; it is not a blind disregard of consequences; it is not intellectual pride; it is not extravagant performance; it is not religious ebullition; it is not sanctimonious hypocrisy. It is never distinguished by the absence of common-sense. A man may be .a zealot; but he must give a reason for the faith that is in him. Enthusiasm without reason, is madness or fanati. cism. We can not particularly specify the prominent qualities of genuine enthusiasm. Many different characteristics unite to make up the man. He is not necessarily a poet. All the varied professions of life are wide fields for its legitimate ex- ercise. It is alike real in activity and in repose. It was with Bacon and Cromwellwith Newton and llampdenwith Pascal and Turenne. We may, however, cite two singular exceptions. Of directly opposite characters, and on directly opposite principles, Washington and Bonaparte were not en- thusiasts. This character of Wordsworth is sustained by his portraits. They all indicate a reflective mind. Sereneness, is written in large letters on his broad and contemplative brow. Each of his poems bears this distinct, individual impress. Where he fails, it seems as if some accident had occurred, producing a tempo- rary derangement of his natural faculties, and throwing a cloud or gloom over the sunshine of his mental disposition. But this rarely happens. He reposes on the consciousness of an inward strength, which as it sustained and bore him onward against opposition, and discouragement, and ridicule, so ever after, when the wreck of the worlds harsh judgments were strewn over the sands on which they were reared, it continued to shield him from those taints of popularity and abuses of success, which too often end in the most deplorable conse 1856.] William Tford8wortk. 293 quences; attributed by the true believers in frenzy to the eccentricities of genius, but which in fact, are the bona-fide results of ill-regulated passions, misguided affections, and vicious propensities. From all these, the Chief of the Lakers was entirely free. The characters which he undertakes to describe are always drawn in a plain and straight-forward manner. Each one seems to stand distinctly by itself. Most persons are of opi- nion, that he has been peculiarly happy in the common walks of life. This originated entirely in the perverted notion of his poetical theory we alluded to above. It was not a mistake, so to regard it, as long as it stood on debatable ground. But when once that was settled, and settled for ever, the man and his theory became immediately merged in the general princi- ples of the art. Thus it is that his pastoral, his classic, and his philosophical characters, all stand on their own merits. They are each to be judged according to the degrees of plea~ sure and instruction they severally confer. If he has been more happy in some than in others, he is only in the same situation with many who have gone before him. We have no intention of palliating or excusing his faults for the best reason in the worldthat we do not intend to mention them. That he had them like all other men, no one undertakes to deny. There is no necessity for using the cy- nics privilege in exposing those sores and weaknesses, which are the common lot of all, alike in the highest and in the humblest stations of life.. We know that it is unfortunately the practice with many, to seek for faults when even their dis- covery would prove unavailing and impotent to injure a noble and elevated character. Even where no tangible defects can be raked up, it is customary to draw on the imagination for some supplementary idea. If a man had not been what he was, he might have been something different. We remember one ambitious critic parading the discovery, that Words- worths great fault was a want of sympathy with men and life. It struck us at the time, that he possibly might have been familiar with his writings though we very much doubted it. The discovery, however, is quite easily accounted for. The critic was one of that distinguished class, whose new-fangled fantasies are daubed so thick over all the works of genius and art. He belonged no doubt to a company of amateur artists, whose chief employment seems to be in seek- ing out every thing new and wonderful; who invent and jum- ble together a set of striking phrases, either for the discovery 294 Wil1iam~ W~rd8wartk. [April, of hidden meanings, or for the destruction of shams; who would spoil the natural beauty of a landscape, for the sake of bringing to light some blasted tree or dismal cavern; and who proclaim their devotion to the worship of Truth, by showing her naked before a whole rabble of satyrs and bacehanals. We confess to no sympathy for any thing of this kind. We would shield the obj ects of our veneration and regard from such signal notoriety; and particularly those exalted charac- ters, who having passed through the fiery ordeal, are now stamped as sterling by the general approbation of mankind. The nature of all poetry is essentially the same. It is im- possible to define it in special terms. It is equally impossible to lay down any particular rules for its execution as an art, or to measure either its progress or decline by laws similar to those which regulate the different branches of physical and moral science. Seeing is said to be believing. But in poetry, something more is required. A certain degree of faith must be given to the created deceptions of the mind, before the im- agination can embody those creations in such a form as to be at once recognized as the breath and spirit or inspiration of all natural acquirements. Then it is, that a man becomes a poet. Then it is, that he loses all knowledge of poetry as an art, by losing himself in the art itself. If he can not keep up this deception, he degenerates into a connoisseur or a critic. We apply these remarks to Wordsworth in qualified terms; in fact, their application must always be qualified, as they are but general approximations towards the expression of a felt and pervading influence. The idea of being a poet byprofes- sion, is ordinarily hooted at and ridiculed as something absurd and inconoruous. The generality of mankind believe in natu- ral inspir~tion, precisely as they believe in cardinal virtues. They think that in all the other pursuits of life, including those which come under the description of the fine arts, educa- tion, and industry, and perseverance are all necessary to se- cure a lasting name; in the province of poetry alonewhose universality extends over all knowledge, whose impassioned feelings are uttered in every language, and whose silent im- pressions have been felt in bringing back things gone out of mind, and in restoring or renewing things destroyeddo they think that some species of involuntary enthusiasm, that sees shapes in the clouds, and hears voices in the winds, is to take the place of that information and experience, without which no imitator of nature can convey to others a just and corre~ sponding idea of his own impressions? 1866.] William Wordswc*rth. 296 Like painting and sculpture, poetry is a copy from nature. The execution of the former indeed, is confined more strictly within certain mechanical limits. All of them imply skill and design. The boy who carves his boat, and fits it completely with sails and rigging, and the man who sketches a house, with every door and window perfect in it, are neither of them necessarily sculptors or painters. They imitate exactly what they undertake; and when they have done this, they have done alL And yet this is a partand a very large part, too of the profession of those arts. The painter must learn the use of the pencil, and the sculptor must understand the use of the chisel. Without them, they would both remain mute and inglorious. If we now turn to a sister art, we shall probably find all that seems to be wanting here. Any man who by na- ture understands the power of music, or even he who has heard of the extraordinary effects produced by this mysterious agency, will be at no loss to cornprehend what is that spirit, or breathing, which is the life and beauty of every thing in nature, and whose ec~pression must be represented, in some de- gree at least, by every design of genius, and every labor of art. In these, natural taste is the foundation of all proficiency. The 1~1rst attempts are, and most generally will be, feeble and unsatisfactory. The greatest masters have risen by slow de- grees. The true artist will persevere from one degree of pro- gress to another; from the bending shrub to the lofty tree; from sea to land; from earth to heaven; from the inanimate body to the human form divine everywhere and all the time growing in grace and expression, and for ever approaching, but never reaching, the full fruition of all his hopes, and the overflowing fountain of all his labors. If he be inspired, it will be the inspiration of love, and not the rapture of fanati- cism. We shall continue in our next the more particular examina- tion of the poetry of Wordsworth. 21 296 TAe PMIo& ophy of Lifr. [April, THE IHILOSOPIIY OF LIFE. ACT. (To - MORROw.) No. 2. TO-MORROW! Wherefore not to-day? Thing unbegun Is never done; Ready Act alone is Yea. To-Morrow! Wherefore not to-day ~ Good-will in need Is prompt of deed; Help to come is ever Nay. To-Morrow! Wherefore not to-day ~ The yet to wait Comes still too late; Done at once alone is Yea. FATE. (cIRCUMsTANcE AND CHANCE.) No.3. CIRCUMSTANCE and chance will die, Change or pass, Like the wind, the cloRd in sXy, Leaf or grass.

Rosenberg Rosenberg The Philosophy of Life. Act (To-Morrow) 296

296 TAe PMIo& ophy of Lifr. [April, THE IHILOSOPIIY OF LIFE. ACT. (To - MORROw.) No. 2. TO-MORROW! Wherefore not to-day? Thing unbegun Is never done; Ready Act alone is Yea. To-Morrow! Wherefore not to-day ~ Good-will in need Is prompt of deed; Help to come is ever Nay. To-Morrow! Wherefore not to-day ~ The yet to wait Comes still too late; Done at once alone is Yea. FATE. (cIRCUMsTANcE AND CHANCE.) No.3. CIRCUMSTANCE and chance will die, Change or pass, Like the wind, the cloRd in sXy, Leaf or grass.

Rosenberg Rosenberg The Philosophy of Life. Fate (Circumstance and Chance) 296-297

296 TAe PMIo& ophy of Lifr. [April, THE IHILOSOPIIY OF LIFE. ACT. (To - MORROw.) No. 2. TO-MORROW! Wherefore not to-day? Thing unbegun Is never done; Ready Act alone is Yea. To-Morrow! Wherefore not to-day ~ Good-will in need Is prompt of deed; Help to come is ever Nay. To-Morrow! Wherefore not to-day ~ The yet to wait Comes still too late; Done at once alone is Yea. FATE. (cIRCUMsTANcE AND CHANCE.) No.3. CIRCUMSTANCE and chance will die, Change or pass, Like the wind, the cloRd in sXy, Leaf or grass. 1856.] The Clironicles of Per8ejwlis. 297 Chance and circumstance must take Shape from thee What thou wiliest, they must make, Do or be. Circumstance and chance will end Soon or late Break them to thy will, or benil Self is Fate. ROSENBERO. THE CH1~ONTOLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE YEARS IN THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN-FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. ny Mn. QUIG~G. CHAPTER SEVENTH. MISS WADDLES BEAU IDEAL. SHORTLY after our tea-p~rty in honor of Mr. Jones Cart- wright, we were invited to a little party at Miss Waddles. Before relating the events of that evening, and their conse- quences, we must introduce the reader to Miss Waddle, and the most distinguished personages of that ilk adorned good society in Persepolis. who Miss Waddle was the only daughter of a widowed mother. An early inclination for literary pursuits had led her to the circulating library of the village in which they lived, and the circulating library had led her quite away from the village, into a pleasant little land of her own, situated in a very remote and impossible country, where she had built herself a castle of the fashion called Spanish. The lord of this country was an interesting young gentleman, of acute sensibilities an& large moustache; between whom and herself at some indefi-~

Mr. Quigg Quigg, Mr. The Chronicles of Persepolis; or, Five Years in the Life of a Gentleman-Farmer in the Kingdom of New-Jersey 297-306

1856.] The Clironicles of Per8ejwlis. 297 Chance and circumstance must take Shape from thee What thou wiliest, they must make, Do or be. Circumstance and chance will end Soon or late Break them to thy will, or benil Self is Fate. ROSENBERO. THE CH1~ONTOLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE YEARS IN THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN-FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. ny Mn. QUIG~G. CHAPTER SEVENTH. MISS WADDLES BEAU IDEAL. SHORTLY after our tea-p~rty in honor of Mr. Jones Cart- wright, we were invited to a little party at Miss Waddles. Before relating the events of that evening, and their conse- quences, we must introduce the reader to Miss Waddle, and the most distinguished personages of that ilk adorned good society in Persepolis. who Miss Waddle was the only daughter of a widowed mother. An early inclination for literary pursuits had led her to the circulating library of the village in which they lived, and the circulating library had led her quite away from the village, into a pleasant little land of her own, situated in a very remote and impossible country, where she had built herself a castle of the fashion called Spanish. The lord of this country was an interesting young gentleman, of acute sensibilities an& large moustache; between whom and herself at some indefi-~ 298 The Chroniele8 of Pers~polis. [April, nite period of time, a matrimonial alliance, she felt assured, was destined to take place. Her native village, and all which it inherited, fell, therefore~ into great contempt with her, and she turned up her nose continually at the nice young gen- tlemen who measured tape in its stores, or the sturdy young farmers who, upon festival occasions, were the ornaments of its ball-room. In short, her distaste for what delighted her more unsophisticated friends became so notorious, that no one felt any surprise at seeing her sitting alone at all such merry. makings, taking no part in the festivities, but looking rather as if she were mentally rehearsing the favorite ballad of My hearts in the Highlands, my heart is not here, and waiting with great patience and resignation for the advent of the dis- tinguished stranger, who was winning a large degree of glory in foreign countries, solely for the purpose of coming back with a star shining upon his breastto say, Adorable Anna Maria, behold me at your feet. I oft have heard that you were fair, but report has done you injustice. You are loveliest of the lovely. I have culled in other lands, these many sultry suns, a bouquet of unfading glorytake it, my Anna Maria. She always closed her eyes, heaved a flut- tered sigh, pressed her hand upon her throbbing breast when the ideal stranger said he loved, and, rising, left the place, with swimming, Juno gait. So that in a little while the vil- lage belles, heartless wretches that they were, said as she left Anny Maria has gone to look for her beau ideal. Wait awhile, ladies. Every dog has his day, and every pussy-cat two af- ternoonsand Anna Maria Waddles sun is not yet set. She is still upon the sunny side of thirty. Indeed she was so short and plump, and had such rosy cheeks and curly hair, and such a love of a little nez retrouss~, that time shook hands with her without leaving the prints of his fingers anywhere upon her firm and glistening flesh; and if she were single until thirty it would be greatly to her credit and the credit of her constancy for waiting till that age for the return of her beau ideal from other lands, and entirely scorning the temptations held out by the periodical offers of the village schoolmaster, and the rising young lawyer of the next town. It is, per- haps, useless to mention that Miss Waddle was possessed, in her own right, of a snug little farm in the vicinity, and ten thousand dollars in United States sixes. Neither of these things ever entered the minds either of the schoolmaster or the lawyer, as a matter of course. The village of Persepolis, like all the other godchildren of 1856.] The Chronicles of Persepolis. 299 buried greatness which are scattered through the land broad- cast, and hold forth to the world a perpetual sign and adver- tisement of pure American taste and ingenuity in nomencla- ture, consisted almost of a single street, running at right an- gles, with the river, and ornamented on either side with a tavern, a hay-scales, a great many posts to tie horses to, two or three stores, a butchers, bakers, blacksmiths, cobblers shops, ~nd other public buildings of inferior importance. This street was called Main street, probably because it was the only one in the town. If there were any other reason for the name, we have never been informed of it. Continual tra- vel kept it always dusty in dry weather, or knee-deep with mud in wet, presenting the pedestrian with an agreeable diver- sification of torment. On the right and left, pleasant roads and green shady lanes led away over an undulating and thickly wooded country, disappearing iu4he valleys or wrapping them- selves like girdles around the loftier swells, and so losing themselves in the~ depths of the ta]~l old woods, which rounded in the landscape like a frame. On the left-hand side of Main street, near where the village began, was Blank House; and a little farther along, on the right side, Blank Hotel. The latter was an ancient and com- fortable-looking inn, surrounded by trees, and pleasantly shaded about the door leading into the garden with clambering, sweet- scented vines, and rose-of-sharon trees in full bloom. In the front, a heavy, low-browed porch, only covering the windows of the first story, was almost covered itself with the sweet brier, clematis, and champany rose. Here, of a summer~~ morning, a summers afternoon, and a summer~s evening, in short the whole summers day long, sat the innkeeper, Herr Meyer, a worthy Dutchman, with a large pipe in his mouth, and a small dog by his side. His sign exhibited a ftill-cheeked Dutch sun, struggling with a number of fat clouds, and bear- ing the modest motto of Good entertainment for man and horse. But Persepolis was about to be convulsed with curiosity, and Miss Anna Maria Waddles heart to be torn with contending passions. Much about the hour of noon, on a certain day of October, a fashionable drag, containing a gentleman and ser- vant, drove into the village. A couple of dogs trotted beneath the wagon, and a couple more lay in the bottom. The gentle- man was evidently a thorough sportsman, and was exercising his dogs, even whilst travelling, with a due regard to their health and training. 300 The Uhronicles of Persepoli.s. [April, The gentleman had a moustache, and his moustache was jetty black. The gentleman brought his horses to a walk, and examined the House and the Hotel, as if in doubt which of the two to choose. Herr Meyer sat upon his porch and smoked, only exhibiting his vitality by an occasional puff of extraordinary vigor, or an elevation of his ponderous brows, as if in scorn that any one should hesitate at choosing between himself and his upstart Yankee rival over the way. The traveller decided upon Herr Meyer, and drove up to the door. A cloud of unusual density floated away above his head, and sailed off in triumph towards the new pine-board Grecian temple of his rival. He rose from his seat, and conducted the stranger into the house with a laconic Mynheer ish wel- come. In the cool of the afternoon the stranger might be seen sit- ting with his host upon the old stoop, smoking an indefinite number of cigars, as men sit and smoke who have dined to their liking and care little for the morrow. Who can he be? exclaimed the village of Persepolis, with the unanimity of a Greek chorus. Old Mrs. Waddle was stand- ing at the window when the stranger lighted his first cigar, and she exclaimed, Bless my soul ! Miss Anna Maria a le was at that moment in the very paroxysm of inspiration. She was painting. Rejecting the threadbare fashion of copying things as they are, she aspired to the more difficult task of imaginary creations. The triumph of art upon which she was engaged was a medheval scene. In the centre appeared a castle, so oppressed with age that its walls ~slanted each in a different direction, and whose shadow, con- scious of its approaching dissolution, had, with common in- ~gratitude, run entirely away. A moat surrounded the castle, and appeared to be engaged in preventing it from following the example of its shadow. The order of architecture was the composite Gothic, or tea-box number one in the middle, and tea-boxes numbers two and three upon either side. Two men upon the bank were waiting pa en o catch a forlorn damsel who leaned o~ver the battlements oft he donjon-keep in a daring and careless manner, and appeared to be making experiments in balancing, and was probably of a philosophical turn of tnind. Anna Maria looked up from her painting, and said to her mother, What is the matter? But her mother made her no answer, only she clasped her 18~6.] The Chronicles of Persepolis. 301 hands, shook her head, and said piously, YeaEsau was a hairy man. Anna Maria started from her seat and ran to the window. A glance sufficed. He was there. He had returned. The castle in Spain was realized. The lord of the country, with his mous- tache, was before her eyes. Constancy would have its reward, and the course of true love run unruffled to a summer sea of heavenly delights. My beau ideal ! exclaimed Anna Maria, and she sunk fainting in her mothers arms. The old lady was rather alarmed at first, but it was not a bad faint. Miss Waddle could not afford to be long insensible, or lose for more than a minute the chance of contemplating the stranger who, as she immediately detetmined in her own mind, had left his own for sunny lands, many years since, and, after performing prodigies of valor in remote Oriental regions, had returned towards the setting sun in the prime of his manhood and zenith of his fame, to repose his laurelled brow upon the bosom of consoling and native affection. She gave a flutter, a little smile stole over her face, she shook her fingers as if she were playing upon an invisible guitar and, coming suddenly to very active life again~ darted to the window and gazedbut who shall paint that gaze? it hushed old Mrs. Waddles heart with terror and amaze. Whats that black thing on his under lip ? said Mrs. Waddle. Mother, said Miss Waddle, majestically, Mother, it is an imperial. Imperial, hyson, souchong, said the old lady, innocently. Oh, mother, cried Miss Waddle, torture not my ears with such debased allusions. Drag not to earth the spirits soar- ing wing, just bathed in sunlight at the fount of love. Oh, dear suz alive 1 said Mrs. Waddle,~ oh my! what pretty verses. That tuft upon the chin proclaims him more than man. I dont see the use of that, said the old lady, shaking her head doubtfully. Pshaw, mother, said Miss Waddle, with a toss of her own, adding in a kind of stage whisper to herself whilst she lanced over the blinds at the unconscious stranger: Why, ah why, am I doomed always to be misconceived, surrounded with un- ideal hearts, and fancies cold as Nova Zembla?s snows.? Ah, why? Perhaps there is an echo in hi8 breast which answers 302 The C/ironicle8 of Persepolie. [April, why? Mother, that tuft upon his chin, said she, turning shortly upon that aged and intimidated person, in foreign lands, where emperors and princes of the blood are central suns which radiate the globe, and all is dross thats not nobility with sixteen quarterings on its azure shield, nothing but nobles of the highest rank are, by the law, allowed to wear. Well, now, said Mrs. Waddle, meekly, if I was a man II would not cry at that, Anny Mariny. Oh, dull and careless soul, exclaimed Miss Waddle, can I be her child? Answer me, spirits ! The spirits, however, said nothing in reply; but at this junc- ture old Dinah, the cook, chambermaid, waiter, nurse, and housekeeper, in onea combination of characters which ap- peared to have had the same effect upon her Falstaff imagined water would upon him, and swelled her beyond the ordinary limits of humanityrolled into the room, and announced the strange gentlemans servant. Anna Maria seated hers~lg stilled her beating heart by fold- ing her arms tightly across her bosom, composed her features to an impressive placidity, and, nodding towards the door, said: Let the illustrious strangers faithful servitor approach and tell his story to our ear. Young man, you kin come in, said Dinah, endeavoring to imitate her young mistress, who was her beau ideal, but failing to cross her arms entirely by reason of the great breadth and elevation it was necessary to overcome. You kin come in de missus am greeable to see you. The young man entere~d, and presented his masters compli- ments to Miss Waddle. His master had sought the village of Persepolis to indulge in a few days shooting, a sporting friend having informed him that quail and partridge abounded in its vicinity. Mynheer Meyer had informed him further, that by far the best shooting in the neighborhood was to be found upon the farm belonging to Miss Waddle, which stretched for some distance along the brook, in the rear of the village. He begged, therefore, to present his compliments to Miss Waddle, and respectfully inquire whether she had any objection to his amus- ing himself for a day or so on her grounds. All this was neatly conveyed in a delightfully-scented note with a lace border and an ingenious motto in the upper left-hand corner, intim~ting that love was the most powerful of all the gods. Miss Waddle restrained herself. It cost her an effort altogether superhuman 1856.] The Chroniclee of Per8epolis. 303 to do so; but she restrained herself. S~ie did not fall on the young mans neck, and weep aloud in her fulness of joy. She could have done so with the heartiest good-will; but she re- strained herself; and requesting him, with a smile to which all the bees of Hymettus lent their accumulated sweetness to take a chair; she turned to the little rosewood escritoire, th~ deposi- tory of her most cherished feelings, her odes to silence, Eros, and the moon, and other fugitive pieces depicting, in touching lines, the solemn sadness of her lonely fate; and, with a trembling hand and beating heart, produced an answer- ing missive. This was surmounted by two hearts, barbarously skewered together, and depending from an exaggerated dart which was carried upon the shoulders of a stout infant in a most disgraceful state of nudity. ~~HAri1r. STRANGER, said Miss Waddle, whose heart per- mits you to enjoy the excitement of the chase, and the report of whose gun, waking the echoes of the woodland dell, conveys with favorite dogs excitedbark enchanting music to your listen- ing ear; in whom the vigor of youthful freshness and enjoy- ment leaps wild in every swelling vein; believe me, nothing could convey sincerer pleasure to a heart which sadness brood- ing oer for many months (years would be better, but it wont do to say years, said Miss Waddle to herself) has covered with its Azrael-wing, and turned to midnight gloom, than the con- soling thought of having been able to afford a pleasure which, alas! it can never, never hope to know itself. Shoot, happy stranger, shoot IANNA MARIA THERESA SOPHRONTA WAD- Miss Waddle folded the letter; the young man took it and went out. Miss Waddle had not strength enough to rise and see whether the happy stranger was still sitting upon the stoop. She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and, revelling in the graceful curling smoke, seen by her minds eye issuing from the happy strangers lips, she beheld a crowd of Cupids, in fact, all the loves, disporting themselves. She beheld the young man p resent her note; she fancied the happy stranger held it for a brief moment to his heart before he broke the sealand thenand thencould it be truehe smiled, and, smiling, raised his eyes to heaven. Ah I exclaimed Miss Waddle, I am born and dying in the sweet breath that makes me. Massy soulsthat Dinah always leaves the door on a crack, said Mrs. Waddle; and its blowing right in your ear, Anny Mariny 304 [April, The fi/hronicle8 of Per& epoli8. ~HAPTNR XIGHTE. Era8 quar& vey t,erdeyar. While thus I see the groves anew Clothed in their leaves of verdant hue, Fain would I wake a lay to prove How much n~y soul is bowed to love. ORESCIMBENI says, that the Chanson by Rambaud De Vacjui- eras, of which our motto forms the first stanza, is written in six different languagesthe first stanza in Romance, the second in Tuscan, the third in French, the fourth in Gascon, the fifth in Spanish, and the sixth in a jumble of them all. Of all the Troubadours named in the Trionfo dAmore, Messire IRambaud must have been in the worst strait to express the pa~sion of his breast, to sing with five tongues at once. But that un- fortunate gentleman had a much better time of it than Miss Anna Maria Theresa Sophronia Waddle, who was, alas! pre- vented by a cruel fortune from using her native English in the manner and for the purpose she most ardently desired, and compelled to keep the single tongue she was mistress of in wearisome inactivity for the space of two mortal days. Shortly before dispatching his man, John, with the note men- tioned in the last chapter, the stranger had said to Mynheer Me er, Whose house is that ? And Mynheer Meyer answered and said, Miss Waddles. Oh 1 an old maid, said the stranger, with an air of dis- gust and shrug of the shoulders. Ter tuyfulno ! said Mynheer. Why do you say Miss Waddles house, then ? Mynheer lighted a fresh pipe, and explained. To shorten Mynheers storyMiss Waddle was young and fair; for books and music a wonder among women; Miss Waddle was an or p han; Miss Waddle had a farm. ~he stranger pricked his ears. MissWaddle ~ad a house. The stranger nodded pleasantly towards that domicile, as much as to say, We have it in our eye. Miss Waddle had ten thousand in the six per cents. The stranger exclaimed, The devil 1 and, rising with some haste, called his man John; and, after being closeted with him for half an hour, dispatched him upon the errand to Miss Wad- dle, which occasioned such commotion in the susceptible bosom of that desolate and deserted fair. 1856j The Chranicle.~ Qf Persepolis. 305 Two days passed. The stranger was not seen again upon the stoop. He went away very early in the morning with his gun, dogs, and servant, and did not return until the shadows of even- ing had settled upon the town. Darker shadows than those of evening settled upon Miss Waddles mind. Every day the strangers man brought a present of game; but, somehow or other, she could never catch him. The man left the game in the kitchen, with a polite message for Miss Waddle, and van- ished. Miss Waddle was very near her wits end, and, being a lady of no small property in that way, she had travelled a great distance, and was proportiopably fatigued. The Azrael-wing of sorrow shrouded her mind in more than usual gloom. She read the Prisoner of Chillon, and the darkness of her dim abodealthough it was very line weather, and the sun shone most amazingly, and wouldn t go under even the smallest cloud fell on her as a heavy load, and she repeated in a stern, sad way, very terrible to hear, It may be months, oryears~ or d~ye, I keep no count, I take no note; I have no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote; Maa cometh not to set me free I Despair, said Miss Waddle, brightening up as she came to the last part of the stanza; Ive learned to love despair. Yes, Ive learned to love it. Now let fortune do its worst, ha! ha! The pang is past, the sternest trial as the last. Whether he come, or whether he return no more, my lips are sealedfor I can suffer and be still. I 806 2lfet~ and Tim~es of the Revolution. [April, Men and Times of the Revolution; or, Kemoirs of Ellcanah Wat- son, including Journals of Travels in Europe and America, from 1777 to 1842, with his correspondence with public men, and reminiscences and incidents of the Revolution. Edited by his son, Winslow C. Watson. New-York Dana & Co., Pub- lishers. IT is a subject of constant regi~et with Americans, that the records of the great struggle for national independence are of so general a nature. The literature of other civilized countries is full of home-sketches; chronicles of particular places; lives of individuals; memoirs and journals of great and little actors in the drama of life. French literature particularly abounds in them. Prime ministers, princes of the blood, secretaries, pages, soldiers, and pretty women, all leave Miemoir~s pour servir a 1 histoire. Whether prompted by individual or national vani- ty, or a proper and philosophical desire to add something to the general store of information, the labors of even the humblest of these contributors add something valuable to history. A people rather of action than reflection, among Americans writ- ing is caviare to the general. We have scarce time enough to spare from business to attend properly to eating and sleep- ing. Americans commonly travel from the cradle to the grave by an express-train, making no stop at small places on the road. Pen, ink, and paper, therefore, are, for the most part, appropriated to ledgers and commercial correspondence; hence reliable knowledge of home life in America is unattainable by foreigners. They can get no deeper than the newspapers, and of them we are unhappily forced to say what Lord Bolingbroke said of History: As for that, we know it to be a lie. The history of the Revolutionary time in America is particu- larly bald; bald, we mean, in respect of records of private his- tory. The lives of the chief actors in it have, indeed, been written and rewritten after a sort; but their memoirs are gene- rally such as deal only with the great events. Every-day matters are left out. The judge is always on the bench; the soldier always sword in hand; the statesman wears always the colors of his trade. Our history, in short, is always in full dress to receive company, and too fine by half. We want a little more of the daily food, more plain roast-beef and less

Men and Times of Revolution 306-316

I 806 2lfet~ and Tim~es of the Revolution. [April, Men and Times of the Revolution; or, Kemoirs of Ellcanah Wat- son, including Journals of Travels in Europe and America, from 1777 to 1842, with his correspondence with public men, and reminiscences and incidents of the Revolution. Edited by his son, Winslow C. Watson. New-York Dana & Co., Pub- lishers. IT is a subject of constant regi~et with Americans, that the records of the great struggle for national independence are of so general a nature. The literature of other civilized countries is full of home-sketches; chronicles of particular places; lives of individuals; memoirs and journals of great and little actors in the drama of life. French literature particularly abounds in them. Prime ministers, princes of the blood, secretaries, pages, soldiers, and pretty women, all leave Miemoir~s pour servir a 1 histoire. Whether prompted by individual or national vani- ty, or a proper and philosophical desire to add something to the general store of information, the labors of even the humblest of these contributors add something valuable to history. A people rather of action than reflection, among Americans writ- ing is caviare to the general. We have scarce time enough to spare from business to attend properly to eating and sleep- ing. Americans commonly travel from the cradle to the grave by an express-train, making no stop at small places on the road. Pen, ink, and paper, therefore, are, for the most part, appropriated to ledgers and commercial correspondence; hence reliable knowledge of home life in America is unattainable by foreigners. They can get no deeper than the newspapers, and of them we are unhappily forced to say what Lord Bolingbroke said of History: As for that, we know it to be a lie. The history of the Revolutionary time in America is particu- larly bald; bald, we mean, in respect of records of private his- tory. The lives of the chief actors in it have, indeed, been written and rewritten after a sort; but their memoirs are gene- rally such as deal only with the great events. Every-day matters are left out. The judge is always on the bench; the soldier always sword in hand; the statesman wears always the colors of his trade. Our history, in short, is always in full dress to receive company, and too fine by half. We want a little more of the daily food, more plain roast-beef and less 1S56.] M~n and Times of the Revolution,. aor confectionery Tt is a great mistake. Nothi~ig would look better in print than a plain story of all the ins and outs, up-risings and down-sittings of American in-door life, It is the most wholesome and honorable that ever was lived by any people. Outwardly, new manners and fine fashions have blur- red the native grace and plainness of our life; inwardly, at home, the virtuous simplicity of the early days of the iRepublic remains untarnished. Home is every thing to us. The Bible sheds its hallowed influence upon almost every family circle. It is the family book of America. The genuine force and hearted goodness of American nature expands beneath the genial influence of that dear placeHome. The world is our battle- field. There we rush, and brag, and strive, and dash ahead; always busy, always in a whirl; yet cool-headed, and not a bit too unselfishin fact, rather hard and grasping than otherwise. At home we are different people. We isolate ourselves there, it is true, and have no idea of what the French call society. We abhor strangers, in fact, almost as much as Horace did the profanurn vulgus. The familyour own family, wife and little ones, dear old father and motherare all we want there. Any other interrupts, brings discomfort, puts a pound of starch into papas collar and mammas lips, and makes every body ex- quisitely unnatural and disagreeable. Thus we are not known abroad. The world has a false idea of us: that, however, is aot the worlds fault. How could it know? If we wrote home life in auto-biographies and memoirs, and journals, it might learn something of the truth; otherwise, nothing at all. The chief recommendation of Mr. Watsons Memoirs is, that they let us a little into the private life of the time he writes of. We have Lees, and Graydons, and Greenes Memoirs; Trum- bulls and Thatchers contributions to history; and Mrs. Mercy Warrens history, in some respects an invaluable book, in others scarcely to be relied on. The lady was, like most ladies, a little headstrong, and ~ufflciently partisan. Later we have had the lives of many great men of Revolutionary fame; but, as we have said, these deal very little with home life; the men they treat of are rather used as the necessary appendages to great historical events, than as human beings with a daily life of their own. My father, says Mr. Watson, from the age of nineteen to near the close of his life, which was protracted to more than four-score years, was in the habit of recording his observations of men and incidents. Would that many other Americans of that time had cultivated the same valuable habit. 308 3fen~ and [luime8 of tiw Revolution. [April, The work abounds in excellent material, and the style is sim ple and pleasing. I was born, says Mr. Watson, on the 22d day of January, 1758, in Ply- mouth, Mass., within rifle-shot of that consecrated rock, where, in New-Eng- land, the first European foot was pressed. Among the pious and devoted p11. gruns of the Mayflower, Edward Winslow, the third governor of the infant co- lony, was an energetic and conspicuous leader. From him I am descended in the sixth generation on my mothers side. Born and nurtured among the de- scendants of the Puritans, I was early imbued with their high sentiments of re~gious and political liberty. My father and all my relatives, with a few exceptions, were zealous and active Whigs, aiding with their hands and purses the glorious struggle for Independence. I remained at the ordinary common-school until the age of fourteen. This scheol~was kept by Alex- ander Scammel and Peleg Wadsworth, both afterwards distinguished offi- cers in the revolutionary ~my. In common with the other patriotic spirits of the age, they evidently saw the approach of the coming tempest. I remember thepa as early as 1771, intently studying military tactics, and have often seen them ~engaged in a garden adjoining my fathers, drilling each other. They formed the boys into a military company, and our school soon had the air of a miniature arsenal, with our wooden guns and tin bayonets suspended around the walls. At twelve oclock, the word was given, to arms, and each boy seized his gun; then, led by either Scammel or Wadsworth, we were taught military evolutions, and marched over hills, through swamps, often in the rain, in the performance of these embryo military duties. A sad and impressive commentary upon the effect of these early influences, is afforded by the fact that half this company per- ished in the conflicts of the Revolution. Scammel was tall in person, ex- ceeding six feet, slender and active. He was kind and benevolent in his feelings, and deeply beloved by his pupils. He was eminently distin- guished during the Revolution for his conduct and bravery. In 1777, he was very conspicuous at the battle of Saratoga, leading his regiment of the New-Hampshire troops, in a desperate charge upon Burgoynes lines. At the siege of Yorktown, he held the important station of Adjutant-General to Was in ns army, and there fell in a reconnoisance upon the British works. In the month of September, 1778, at the age of fifteen, I left my native place, and proceeded to Providence, Rhode-Island, to engage in my appren- ticeship with John Brown, the founder of Brown University, and then one of the most extensive and energetic merchants of America. In the December of that year, the tea was destroyed at Boston, and our disputes with the mother country began to assume a serious aspect. The public mind was gradually ripening to the fearful appeal to arms. During the summer of this year the youth of Providence formed themselves into military associations. We often met to drill, were well equipped, and in uniform dresses. I enrolled myself in the cadet company commanded by Cob Nightingale, consisting of seventy-five youths, the flower of Provi- dence. The uniform of this regiment was scarlet coats, faced with yellow. These companies, five in number, were reviewed by the distinguished Gen. Lee, in the autumn of 1774, and received from him the highest encomiums. In a let(er to the Duke of, October 29th, 1774, after speaking of the preparations in progress in the different colonies to resist oppression, he 18~6.] Ken and Times of the Revolution. 309 adds: I was present at a review of some of their companies in Providence, B. I. I really never saw any thing more perfect. The storm now thickened in our political horizonsome acts of hosti. lity had already been committed near Salem. The whole country was agi- tated as if passing over a threatened volcano. Liberty companies in every community were organizing. The intelligence of the march upon Lexing- ton reached Providence in the afternoon of the 19th of April, 1775. Our five companies flew to arms. The whole population was convulsed by the most vehement excitement. We were unprovided with cartridges, and were compelled to defer our march till morning. I spent the most of that night with many of our company, in running bullets and preparing ammu- nition. We mustered early the next morning, and marched for the scene of action. The royal governor, Wanton, issued a proclamation, which was little regarded, interdicting our passing the colony line, under the penalty of open rebellion. Capt. Green, afterwards the celebrated Gen. Green, with his company of Warwick Greens, and Capt. Yarnam, afterwards a revolu- tionary general, with his Greenwich Volunteers, marched with us at the same time towards Lexington. That was the way they made soldiers then. It may not be uninteresting to our friends across the water to remark that we do so now also. Other nations have gala days, holidays, and festivals. Americans have but one national holiday, the Fourth of July; and but one national play, namely, playing sol- dier. So universal is this spirit, and the knowledge it naturally carries with it, that you may take any twenty men or boys, at random, in the street, clap muskets in their hands, order them to fall in in two ranks, form company, and they will fall into line like veterans. Scammel and Wardsworth are not soli- tary instances. We have a good many schoolmasters left, who would teach t~e young idea how to shoot raal ball better than they teach Adams or Lindley Murray. Mr. Watsons military service was brief. After a turn or two on land and sea, he made a business tour through the southern provinces. He then visited France, and established there a commercial house. Writing in 1778, he says: The partial hand of nature has laid out America on a much larger scale than any other country. What are called mountains in Europe are hills in America; rivers, brooks, trees, bushes, and lakes are reduced to ponds. In short, the map of the world presents to view no country which combines so many natural advantages, so pleasantly diversified, and which offers to agri- culture, manufactures, and commerce, so many resources; all of which can not fail to conduct America to the first rank among nations. This I pro. phesy. It must be so. In contemplating future America, the mind is lost in the din of cities, in harbors, and rivers, crowded with sails, and in the immensity of its population. Taking three millions, the number at this time, as a basis, and admit: ting our population to double each twenty-three years, the result in a hun- dred years will be sixty-two millions of republican freemen, approaching 310 lilien and Times of the Revolution. fApril, one hundred millions, in the year A. D. 1900, which will be nearly equal to that of all Europe at the present day. The sagacious statesmen of Europe realize these truths, and already dread the influence that the greatness and prosperity of America is destined to exercise upon the world. The European possessions in the West-India Islands will pass away like a cloud, and wrn be held as appendages to the American Republic, or will be emancipated, and independent governments themselves. Though European politicians may consider these events too remote to affect any portion of the present generation of men, still they will obstruct our progress by every means in their power. Their efforts will be as vain as presumptuous, and they will prove as powerless as an attempt to check the flQwing of the ti~le. Their schemes will, in fact, be an effort to arrest the decrees of the Almighty, who has evidently raised up this nation to become a lamp to guide degraded and oppressed humanity, and to direct other na- tions, even the nation of our oppressors, to liberty and happiness. This I prophesy ! Truly the second sight was upon him. Had he written yesterday instead of 1778; had he writ- ten with the correspondence between Marcy, Buchanan, and Clarendon open before him, he could not have spoken more wisely or to the point. European politicians will obstruct our progress by every means in their power! Of course they will. The whole crowd of timorous and flocking birds, with such as love the night of prescriptive privilege and monar- chical abuse, hate and fear the expansive nature of Republican Institutions. It is natural; it is necessar Light has no com- munion with darkness, nor sin with holiness; but truth is omnipotent. They may obstruct, but they can never pre- vent. English envy and diplomacy may cut down trees, and break up roads on our path of Empire, but when fate passes the word along the Yankee line, Prepare to pass obstacle, over go horse, foot, and artillery, at a hand-gallop, and away go the obstructions for ever. It is all moonshine on the water to talk of impeding the march of American enterprise or empire: It cant be done. Let no one fret themselves on that subject. It cant be done. Whereof hear good old Watson, for he verily talks plain English and sound sense in this matter, and after a round fashion too: I formerly supposed we attached too much importance to our Revolu- tion, in considering it the cause of man, and that it was preparing an asy- lum for the oppressed and persecuted of all nations; but the more I reflect, and the more I regard the opinions of older heads, the stronger my convic- tion becomes of the truth of this solemn and animating thought. For two centuries, an ineffectual struggle has been maintained, to fasten upon some corner of Europe the principles of liberty, but the bayonets of a million of mercenaries have secured the thrones of European despots. 1856.] 2lThn and Tirneg of t1i~ Revolution. 311 Freedom, established and maintained in America, in a more liberal age, may diffuse her influence over Europe. England has fairly rocked us out of our cradle, a sleeping infant; she may soon find us an armed giant. Should I live to the age prescribed to man, I have no doubt but I shall witness America standing in the first rank among the nations of the earth. It was his happiness to live to see it all; and we can conceive how the old mans heart must have swelled within him as he witnessed the fulfillment of his youthful hopes, in the ripe man- hood and growing power of his country. Here is a pleasant anecdote of the stars and stripes ; the date is 1782. Soon after my arrival in England, having won at the insurance office one hundred guineas, on the event of Lord Howes relieving Gibraltar, and dining the same day with Copley, the distinguished painter, who was a Bostonian by birth, I determined to devote the sum to a splendid portrait of myself. The painting was finished in most admirable style, except the back-ground, which 4Jopley and myself designed to represent a ship, bear- ing to America the intelligence of the acknowledgment of Independence, with a sun just rising upon the stripes of the Union, streaming from her gaff. All was complete save the flag, which Copley did not esteem prudent to hoist under present circumstances, as his gallery is a constant resort of the royal family and the nobility. I dined with the artist on the glorious 5th of December, 1782, after lis- tening with him to the speech of the Kin g, formally receiving and reco~niz- ing the United States of America into the rank of nations. Previous to dining, and immediately after bur return from the House of Lords, he in- vited me into his studio, and there with a bold hand, a masters touch, and I believe an American heart, attached to the ship the 8tars and str4~es. This was, I imagine, the flint American flag hoi8ted in old England. * The following anecdote might seem exaggerated, but we hap- pen to know that precisely a similar thing occurred, but a year or two since, to a friend of ours. Indeed, in two or three parts of Europe, particularly in England and Austria, they laughed at him when he said he was an American, and replied: Oh! no, sir; that is impossible, for your skin is as fair as ours. I was highly entertained by a conversation between two ladies, gen- teelly dressed, and evidently of a respectable class in society, in a coach, near London, and record it as illustraLive of the prevailing ignorance in England, of the people and condition of America. One remarked to the 4 I brought this splendid painting with ftie to America, and it is stil.l in ~ny possession. It is pronounced by artists, second to no painting in America, and has, at their earnest request, been deposited in academies and schools of painting, as a study for young artists. Copley assured me that it would not, in his own language ripen in forty yearsand now, after an interval of more than half a century, (1821,) its colors appear clearer and more brilliant than on the day they left the painters pallet. 22 312 M~rn and f/limes of t~4e Revolution. [April9 other: I have seen a wonderful sighta little girl born in a place called Boston, in North-America; and what is very astonishing, but I pledge you my word it is true, she speaks English as well as any child in England; and, besides, she is perfectly white!, Is it possible 1 exclaimed the other, in no counterfeit astonishment at the recital. Many of the people of England suppose us to be a nation of Indians, Negroes, or mixed blood. This was in 1784. Really, our English cousins are a slow race; they have not apparently learned much more about us up to this year of grace, 1856. The little anecdote Mr. Watson tells of the manner of hold. ihg English elections, ought to make John Bull chary of hi~ wise reflections upon the dangers of American mobs, voting7 etc. I attended, for three successive days, in Covent Garden Square, the vio- lently-contested election for Parliament, between Fox, Lord Hood, and Wray. It was a spectacle of the deepest excitement and interest; but dis- graceful in the outrages and violence constantly attending it. I occupied a position near the hustings, upon a temporary stage, which afforded me a view of every occurrence. The candidates, with their immediate friends, were stationed in front of a small church, the hustings being inclosed within a railway. From my elevated station, looking upon the sea of faces, I judged there were assem- bled within the square, at the windows commanding a view of it, and in the adjacent streets, twenty thousand spectators, to witness freemen giving in their suffrages. . The contest had akeady continued several weeks. Instead of the silent dignity that usually characterizes an American election, here all was confusion and conflict; bloody noses and broken headsintimidation and corruption. In the midst of the canvass, two self-created armies were seen entering the square, at different points; the one headed by a son of Lord Hood, (a captain in the navy,) consisting of sailors, and armed with bludg- eons; the other led by a champion of Fox, composed principally of hardy Irish chairmen. They bore banners inscribed with the names of their respective candidates. The purpose of each party was to secure to its friends access to the polls. These zealous and intelligent champions of British liberty and free elections, met with a rude shock exactly In front of the hustings. A vio- lent conflict ensued; each party made great efforts to prostrate the stand- ~ard of its opponents. They fought with proverbial English ferocity. The excitement instantly spread in every direction, and clubs, fists, and canes were in brisk motion throughout the crowd. Such a scene I had never witnessed. Victory soon declared for the sailors; the chairmen were scout- ing through every avenue, with the sailors in brisk pursuit. The poll was in consequence open exclusively to the friends of Hood and Wray. Within two hours, the chairmen, strongly reinforced, returned, and a new conflict ensued. I saw Fox, in front of the hustings, clapping his hands and shouting with the utmost engagedness. The sailors, in turn, were compelled to fly, leaving many of both parties mangled and bloody, who were borne into the adjacent houses. A French gentleman at my 1856.] 3Jen and Thnes of the Revolution. 313 elbow, justly exclaimed: If this be liberty, Heaven deliver my country from it. A pleasant glimpse of greatness under a cloud is afforded in the following sketch of the illustrious French refugees, who fled from the horrors of their own bloody Revolution to en o the peaceable fruits of ours. lit appears their gratitude was of a piece with that of kings, and other fine people by the grace of God. his~The residence for a short period of Talleyrand in this country, during exile, in a condition of indigence and destitution, is a historic fact. His circumstances and position are somewhat illustrated by trivial incidents, which have been noticed in the manuscripts of Mr. Watson: In the years 1794 and 95, I resided in the northern suburbs of Albany, then known as the Colonie. Mons. Le Contaulx, formerly of Paris, a very amiable man, was my opposite neighbor. His residence was the resort of the French emigrants. During that period, Count Le Tour du Pin, a dis- tinguished French noble, made a hair-breadth escape from Bordeaux, with his elegant and accomplished wife, the daughter of Count Dillon. They were concealed in that city for six terrible weeks, during the sanguinary atrocities of Tallien, and arrived at Boston with two trunks of fine towels, containing several hundred in each; the only property they had been able to save from the wreck of an immense estate. They came to Albany, and brought me a letter of introduction from Thomas Russell, an eminent mer- chant of Boston. Soon after, they purchased a little farm, upon an emi- nence nearly opposite Troy. Here they were joined by Talleyrand, who had arrived about the same time in Albany; also, an exile, and in want. I became intimate with them, from these circumstances, from my familiarity with their country and knowledge of the French language. They avowed their poverty, and re- sided together on the little farm, suffei-ing severe privations, bringing to Albany the surplus produce of their land, and habitually stopping with their butter and eggs at my door. They yielded with a good grace to their humiliating condition. In the winter following, I was surrounded in my office by a group of distinguished Frenchmen: the Count, Talleyrand, Volney, the philosophical writer and traveller, Mons. Pharoux, a very learned man, and Des Jardin, a former qhamberlsin of Louis XVI. They considered me a Frenchman at heart, and appeared to forget that I was an American, jealous of therights, liberties, and honor of my country. Their remarks were often revolting to my sentiments and national pride. Sympathy and compassion for their fallen estate constrained me to endure this language, although they did not hesitate to avow their detestation of American institutions, and their disgust at our manners and habits. On the occasion referred to, after having indulged in this train of re- mark, and speculating upon the posture of European affairs,. Des Jardin at lexxgth turning to me, exclaimed: Yes, my friend, before this war (the war waged by despotism against republican principles) shall end, your frontier will be lined with French bayonets. To this sentiment they all seemed to respond in acquiescence. My American blood was excited beyond forbear- ance, and I replied: God grant, if so, that the invaders may be repelled at 314 .Afen and Times of tkc Revolation. [April, the threshold, or exterminated to a man. Here we were at issue, and our social intercourse terminated. Soon after this, Talleyrand was swaying a potent influence in the councils of France. Whether these hostile sentiments were infused into the Directory, I have no knowledge; but it is certain, when our three En- VO~5 were literally supplicating for peace, at the foot-stool of this power, they were received with an arrogance and intolerance that insulted the dignity, and trampled contemptuously upon the independence of a free nation. This, however, was the extreme point of our degradation. Adams was found a lion in the path of these aggressions. An open war ensued, in which our infant Navy, the child of his own creation, gloriously sustained the honor of our flag, and our national rights. Truxton, in the Constel- lation, captured a French frigate of equal size, and repelled the attack of a second. Truxton a~ainst France, was the language of the day; for he per- formed alone in his gallant ship, all the fighting. The French government retracted, and an honorable peace was consummated.~ Probably if Truxton had lived in 1856, he would have been put upon the retired list, fighting, at present, affording apparent- ly very serious ground of complaint against naval gentlemen. We would advise them, under the rule adopted in the cele- brated case of iRolando vs. the Chinese piratical junks, when- ever they find themselves in such quarrelsome company, to clap their swords on the cabin-table, and, with Ancient Pistol, pray, that Heaven may send them no need of such unchrist- ian and bloody-minded instruments. Apropos to naval affairs, we must be indulged in one more extract from this pleasing volume; it is about the battles on the Lakes. After taking our leave of the Niagara, we proceeded to the shore to visit the arsenal, and were much gratified by the inspection of the shat- tered spars and cannon of both fleets. I can recall no event of my life more fraught with the luxury of national pride, in which purest and loftiest patriotism could so widely expatiate, as when I contemplated in the scene the rising glory of the Republic, and indulged the grateful and proud con- viction, that the ships, or decaying hulks under my eyes, had done more to humble the arrogance of Britain than all the navies of Franee and Spain, through the long annals of naval warfare. We had often beaten her before, ship to ship, but the battle of Erie was our first trial in naval tactics, fleet against fleet. I boldly challenge the history of England to unfold a nobler display of skill, decision, and bravery, than was evinced by Perry, a comparative boy of Rhode.Island, and his officers and tars, in every stage of this well-fought battle. The father of Perry I knew well in the Revolutionary war. He commanded a packet between Newport ai~d Providence, and was called, I think, Kit Perry. What incident in history is more noble and chivalric than that momentous and decisive crisis when Perry left his almost conquered and disabled ship, the Lawrence, in an open boat, exposed to the fire of the 1856.] .AIen and Time8 of the Revolution. 315 British fleet, and passed to the Niagara, a ship fresh and uninjured, thus deciding the fortunes of the day, and capturing every vessel of a superior enemy? We were rowed back to town across the harbor, and inspected the public store-house, the spot where Perry built his ships, and the identical boat in which he passed to the Niagara, which was lying on the beach in good preservation. The officer who conducted us in the yawl, a true son of Neptune, not only declared, but swore to the fact, that the Lawrence had been sunk three times alongside the Queen Charlotte, that she could not be kept there, hav- ing each time fell off in the raking position in which we saw her, in spite of them. He appeared perfectly serious in the belief; that this was a preter- natural affair. In the year 1814 and during the late war, I had frequent, familiar, and unreserved conversations with a British officer high in rank and character, upon the subject of our successfQl naval encounters with British ships. He freely conceded the fact, and in elucidation, remarked, that he met his friend Gen. Hyslop in London after the capture of the frigate Java, who, with many officers and soldiers, was a passenger in her, em route to the East-Indies; that he inquired of Gen. Hyslop, how it happened, that the Java was captured by the Constitution, when it was admitted, that she was of about equal force, of superior equipment, and almost doubly manned. That Gen. Hyslop replied to him, They expected, on falling in with the Constitution, to make a short job of her capture. He remained, he said, on the quarter-deck of the Java, through the engagement, and was astonished to see the superior gunnery of the Constitution, she discharging during the battle three broadsides to two of her antagonist, which added in effect one third to her weight of fire; and to this circumstance he imputed the vic- tory of Bainbridge. My friend added, that Gen. Hyslop said to him, from his subsequent observation and inquiry he was convinced the American sailors were far more active and elastic in their habits and motions than the British. The same result which signalized the combat between the Consti- tution and Java, characterized the numerous battles in the Revolution, be- tween American and British privateers, and still more marked and decisively those of the late ~ We take leave of this volume with regret. It is a valuable contribution to American literature and history, and will, we hope, serve to bring to light many important facts connected with the past, which now lie hidden in MSS., letters, and mem- orandums, in private hands. ]i~t us have in print all that re- mains of that glorious period. The influence exerted by every scrap and pen-mark of the patriot men of Revolutionary times, is happy and healthful. We need to learn the lesson which privation, war, oppression, and loss of this worlds goods taught them. It was a noble lesson of self-reliance, of exalted patriot- ism, of dauntless couragea.whole school of virtue. We have more money nowadays, and more vanity than they had;: scarcely, alas! as much principle. Let us have the intimate record of their daily life, which, also, had a daily beauty in it, 316 The Jlext President~ [April, that we may learn to live as they did; that we may feel and act as they did the great fact that, Whether upon the scaffold high, Or in the battles van, The noblest place for man to die Es where he dies for man. THE NEXT PRESIDENT. WHO will he be? The question admits of but one answer. A Democrat. The answer however, like the text of a sermon, may be divided into several heads. Who will he be? In the first place, he will be the nominee selected by the Na- tional Democratic Convention to be held at Cincinnati, in the month of June, 18567 That man will be the next President of the Unitea States of America, and for that man, be he who he may, this Review will go heart and hand. Loyalty to the regu- lar nominations of the Democratic Party is one of the prime articles in its political owed. We could never understand how a sane man could claim to be a Democrat; could pretend to see in the continued ascendency of that party the chief security, under ~Iod, of our continued union and prosperity as a nation; and yet aid to distract that party, and imperil that union and prosperity, by suffering selfish motives or sectional considera- tions to array him against its regular organization. Organiza- tion is strength. The best principles, the finest enthusiasm, exhale in fruitless wishes, in unsuccessful struggles against wrongs most patent, if supported by merely isolated effort. Arm an hundred thousand men with the most approved weapons of war, and put them in the field without drill or dis- cipline, and what are they? A mere mob, a crowd of fright. ened fools, through which a regiment or two of veterans cut their way wherever they please. A political party is the same. Party organization is as necessary to the success of principles, ~is truth is to their usefulness and vitality. Therefore we say,

S. W. C. C., S. W. The Next President 316-325

316 The Jlext President~ [April, that we may learn to live as they did; that we may feel and act as they did the great fact that, Whether upon the scaffold high, Or in the battles van, The noblest place for man to die Es where he dies for man. THE NEXT PRESIDENT. WHO will he be? The question admits of but one answer. A Democrat. The answer however, like the text of a sermon, may be divided into several heads. Who will he be? In the first place, he will be the nominee selected by the Na- tional Democratic Convention to be held at Cincinnati, in the month of June, 18567 That man will be the next President of the Unitea States of America, and for that man, be he who he may, this Review will go heart and hand. Loyalty to the regu- lar nominations of the Democratic Party is one of the prime articles in its political owed. We could never understand how a sane man could claim to be a Democrat; could pretend to see in the continued ascendency of that party the chief security, under ~Iod, of our continued union and prosperity as a nation; and yet aid to distract that party, and imperil that union and prosperity, by suffering selfish motives or sectional considera- tions to array him against its regular organization. Organiza- tion is strength. The best principles, the finest enthusiasm, exhale in fruitless wishes, in unsuccessful struggles against wrongs most patent, if supported by merely isolated effort. Arm an hundred thousand men with the most approved weapons of war, and put them in the field without drill or dis- cipline, and what are they? A mere mob, a crowd of fright. ened fools, through which a regiment or two of veterans cut their way wherever they please. A political party is the same. Party organization is as necessary to the success of principles, ~is truth is to their usefulness and vitality. Therefore we say, 1856.] The Ne~et President. 817 there will never be a good time again in the Democratic Party tiJi the good old Jackson collar is worn upon their necks, and every man is proud to wear it, not as the badge of servitude; but as an insignia prouder than the jewelled collar of an order of aristocratic knighthood, as ~he badge of unshrinking loyalty to the Democratic Party, and the principles it maintains. It was our fathers boast, and a more thorough-going Demo- crat or conscientious man never lived, that for fifty years he had voted the regular Democratic ticket; and that however he might personally dislike a nominee, he must vote for him, his conscience compelled him, because the principle, included the man, and it was better to vote for a questionable man, and an unquestionable principle, than for the best of men if his elec- tion would afford a questionable principle opportunity of de- velopment. Up to this hour we can make the same boast, and a treat change must take place in our mode of thought and feel- ing if we do not continue so to the end. Arguing, therefore, as well from the sentiments of our own hearts, as from the deduc- tions of reason and logic, we do not feel that we are doing any thing but a natural and most necessary thing in pledging our- selves to the nominees of the National Democratic Convention of 185G. We trust that every honest Democrat in the United States will recognize the wisdom and propriety of making the same resolution. Who will he be? With as free a soul as we make the pledge to vote for him, be he who he may, we say, that is a matter of the mbst perfect indifference to us. We ask only that he shall be a first rate man, and a sound National Democrat. A very prominent aspirant for the Presidency, and a very large bone of contention in the State of New-Yorkthe more~s the pityordered us a month or two since to stop his Review. We felt very much ashamed of him; because when a man sets himself up as the kind of material to make a President out of he ought to be a large-minded, large-souled man. We are a hero-people, and want hero-men to lead us. Pettiness of thought is as much out of place in an aspirant to the Presidency, as sec- tionalism of principle. Perhaps, however, that distinguished gentleman allowed him- self to be misled by the reports so industriously propagated by many persons of narrow intellect and envious souls, that this Review was busying itself with forwarding the desio-ns and advocating the claims of some particular man upon t~he Con- vention, and that that man was not himself As to the latter, 318 The iYex~ President. [April, he and they were undoubtedly right. As to the former, they were never more mistakenin their lives, except when they fail- cied that any man could be forced upon the Democratic Party. The personal friends of Mr. Van Buren tried the forcing pro- cess once upon a time, and we should think the result of that trial ought to admonish gentlemen of the success likely to at- tend any future bolt from the decision of the National Con- vention. It has been widely charged that we are the partisans of Franklin Pierce; and that our purpose is to procure if possible his renomination. The charge is a weak invention of the enemy. We believe that the last thing our Presidenta Demo- cratic Presidentwould do himselg or desire others to do, would be to endeavor to compass such a design by any indi- rection. If the Cincinnati Convention nominate him, his flag shall be nailed to our mast-head, and our best efforts used in his behalf. If they do not, we have no fault to find with them. The delegates to that Convention are supposed to represent the wisdom of the Democratic Party, and if they decide that they know a better man, he whom they choose is the best man for us. We never stood face to face with President Pierce but once in our lives, nor heard the sound of his voice but once. That time he spoke like a statesman and an orator. With the excep- tion of that time, we have nev~r laid eyes upon him. Nor have we ever had the scratch of a pen from him. In fact, if the General should run against us under a forty-light gas chandelier, with all the burners blazing at once, he would not probably know us from our first male parent, commonly called Adam. We never received and never asked either aid or comfort from the Administration in the conduct of this Review. We mean the Democratic Party to support us, because we support them that obligation is mutualand that is the only obligation we desire to lie under. And we can tell our friends, and our ene- mies, that the Democratic Party always does support whatever is true to it, and worth supporting. We have sustained, and we mean to sustain the Administration in every act done by it in accordance with National Democratic principles. We make no war for men. We never saw the man, outside the circle of our private friendships, for whom we would peril so mui~h as the nail upon our little finger. For man and his rights; for the Union and its destinies; for the faith of Democracy, which next to our belief in God we cherish; for truth, in any strait, 1856j The .Next Pre8ident. 319 we will put life or fortune to the hazard: for a mere individual, or his selfish aims, we will not turn upon our heel. A Democratic Administration may peace this man, or dis. place that. We have nothing to do with it. Let it hold fast to the principles of the party, and carry them out in its, policy, and we look no farther. We have no right, nor has any other man a right, to ask more. The government of these States was not institued for placemen, nor parties organized to fight their battles. The growth and vast expansion of the nation has put too many of them on us. They are a growing evil in our sys- tem. Let us not aggravate it by fostering their conceit, or offering ourselves as the tools of their passions and follies. The puffed and vaporing placeman of to-day, is often the seedy sponge and loafer of to-morrow. How humiliating must it be to those who have fawned upon their hour of brief authority, to see their wooden idol with the gold-leaf rubbed off his back, and be compelled to recognize their own baseness in his degrada- tion. In the name of honor; in the name of manhood; in the name of Democracy, let us leave this contemptible squabble over collectorships and snrveyorships, over foreign missions, and consulships; let us abandon this attempt to couple prin- ciples which are holy with a selfishness which is accursed, or to drag things high and noble through the common mire and rot of avaricious office-seeking. You cannot deceive the peo- ple with it. They see plainly through it. It is your own eyes which are blinded, 0 ye who worship Mammon. There is no use in your stealing the name of virtue and giving it to your god. His ugly little pop eyes, big belly, and wide slaver- ing mouth betray him. The dirty creature is a harpy, and his natural tendencies will break through the best disguise you can put upon him. We say therefore, this Administration has thus far maintained the principles of the Democratic Party with honesty and good faith, and therefore we support it, just as we shall support for the same reasons the next Democratic Administration, who- ever heads it, if our lives and capacity be continued to us. You say, good croakers, that it has not the fiery energy and determination of Andrew Jacksons. Do you ever expect to see another Andrew Jackson? And apropos of Andrew Jack- son, do you remember James Madison? Is he not a saint, and deservedly a saint, in our Democratic calendar? We think he is. Now, whilst James Madison, with ten or twelve thousand men eager to fight if they had had anybody to com- mand them, got every thing about him into inextricable confn 820 The Next Pre8ident. [April, sion, and ran away at last from Washington, leaving four thou- sand British soldiers to burn and plunder it at their leisure; Andrew Jackson, at New-Orleans, with three thousand men, defeated ten thousand of the finest troops that England ever boasted. But what does that prove? That Madison was not a statesman? The Constitution of the United States, mainly draft- ed by his hand, and passed in a convention of the greatest men the world ever saw collected forsuch a purpose, principally by his skill and profoundly argumentative eloquence, proves his states- manship. What does it prove then? Why, that Andrew Jack- son was agreat soldier first, and a greatstatesman afterwards; and that Madison was merely the latter. But does the country owe Madison the ~State8man the less, because he was not also Madison the Soldier? But to go back tothe bone of contentionyou shrug your shoulders, and sigh because Franklin Pierce has not the iron determination of Old Hickory. Its a blessed thing for you that it is so, or by St. Jago! a large number of you would have ornamented the boughs of trees, and hung like strange fruit in the autumnal woods. There was a divinity which hedged that old man which treason durst not step within. Yet, gentlemen, you are going a little too fast. You are getting before your story. We are not prepared to admit the charge quite yet. The Old Hickory quality may not be quite so much run out yet as yoa please yourselves with imagining. For after all your blustering, and sighing over the past, you hope it is. You are living and acting in that hope. Remem- ber, however, that Jackson did not stir without great argument. Remember, like a thorough soldier, he always had every thing prepared before he struck. The President you elected by such an overwhelming majority, has been wisely endeavoring to conciliate every interest in the great Democratic family, and by the union of them all to in- sure future victory. If you refuse the olive branch, you may find the sword of Harmodius beneath it. You pointed to Kansas, and asked, Where are your procla- mations; where your Federal troops to insure order and good government? When the time came for them, they were both forthcoming. Will you act like wise men and good citizens, and wait also in other things for th~ proper time? Or will you add to the disturbance the distracting clamor of your empty cries? For our part, we would say to the parties in that Territory, It is a very pretty quarrel as it stands, gentlemen, but it is a family quarrel amongst yourselves, and you will oblige us by 1S~~3.] The Next President. 321 fighting it out; and we beg at the same time to assure you of our liveliest sympathy, and hope, if you neither of you have suffi- cient sense to behave yourselves, that, like the Kilkenny cats, you will finish the whole matter by swallowing each other. That is the let-alone policy. When, however, foolish Governors, like Mr. Chase, or otheT violent madmen, attempt to interfere, we should have ordered a regiment or two of United States troops to the scene of amuse- ment, as special constables to keep thQ peace, and directed them to clear the Territory of the whole gallimaufry of Massachu- setts and Ohio sympathizers, or Missouri squatters, just as the policemen clear the street of a crowd of bad boys, and worse men, who commonly gather around to abet whatever devilment and mischief the bad boys may have first set on foot. That would have been our way. Possibly, however, we are hot-headed. At any rate, we are not vain enough to find fault with older and better soldiers than ourselves, for acting more slowly and with greater caution. But who will the next Democratic President be? Harry A. Wise? The eloquent Virginian is hotter-headed than we are. We have no objection to him, however. A radical lawyer very often makes a conservative judge, and the peace of nations is never seci~irer than when a great soldier bears his hand upon the helm of State. George M. Dallas? He was chairman of the first Democratic mass meeting upon the stand of which we made our appearance, and commenced our apprenticeship for the stump. He is a good man and true; and many delightful personal recollections mingle with our appreciation of his character and talents as a public man, and stalwart Democrat. James Buchanan? His good name is in all mens mouths. Many busy heads and hands are at work for him from Maine to San Francisco. If his cause has fallen into as bad hands in other States, how- ever, as it has in New-York, it is nearly hopeless. He has been particularly adopted in that city and State by the class known as Strikers. One or two of the most notorious have been ac- tively engaged for some time in getting up mysterious organi- zations of foxy old fellows, men ~vho go in for the chances of any thing from a collector~hip to a night watch in the Custom House. They also ply our distinguished ex-Minis- ter to England with daily lefters, full of very large Is, anent which the Vulgate may be profitably quoted, Oculos habent, 322 like Next Pre8ident. [April, sed non videbitur, which being translated into the vernacular, may be rendered, I John Nokes am the man who is going to do every thing for you in the State of New-York. And when you are King, and I claim of you the Earldom of Hereford, with all the appurtenances whereof the last incumbent died pos- sessed, oblige me by recollecting that all the other New-York politicians are humbugs, arrant knaves; believe none of them ! James~Buchanan is very popular, and deservedly so; but he has good-natured friends enough in the city of New-York alone to kill forty candidates before the ides of June. We do not desire to be invidious, but the class who are just now loud- est in his commendation, are of those whose good word in that State is a kind of deadly poison, and courses through all the lanes and alleys of a political reputation with the rapidity of prussic acid. We have nowhere seen a more temperate and well written presentation of Mr. Buchanan than in the Daily Advocate, Ba- ton Rouge, La. We copy its conclusion: Honored by Jackson more than thirty years ago, again distinguished by that hero when he went forth to SE. Petersburg as his Minister, the compan- ion in the Senate, in the days of the Augustan era, of Clay, Webster, Cal- houn, Sevier, Linn, and Win. R. King, and all those conspicuous figures of the Administrations of Jackson and Van J3uren, he passed from the ordeal, adding to its reputation with every hour, and retiring into private life only to be recalled to the Cabinet of Mr. Polk, as its chief, from which position he again retired to his own home, and has again been translated from that home to the position which he now occupies, and where he has enlisted so much of the interest and the confidence of the people. It would be strange if such a man were not strong. It would be marvellous if that Southern phalanx which, in 1852, rallied to him in the Baltimore Convention, for nearly a whole week, and which at last gave him up reluctantly for the dis- tinguished gentleman now in the Presidential Chair, should not at present respond to the sentiment which, arising in his own State and spreading over other sections of the Union, seems to point to him as the candidate of the Democracy in 1856. Without friends in power, without systematic organization, without newspapers, we hear of his strength away off in Maine, in Connecticut, in New-York, where the divided factions look to him as the man whose pre- sence is to bring peace to their troubled waters; in New-Jersey, where there is scarcely a voice raised against him, even by his opponents; in Ohio, where he counts his friends by thousands and tens of thousands, and so throughout the mighty North-West. Politicians may intrigue, he can not do it, and will not do it. All that his friends ask is that the amicable, fair and honest example which thus far they have set, shall not be answered by injustice, shall not be followed up by crimination. In vain will calumny seek to fasten upon the friends of Mr. Buchanan a single effort to do injus- tice to any other candidate in the field. If they can not advocate their choice without impugning others, then let their choice go down. The 1856.] The Next Pre8ident. 323 Presidency is not worth obtaining if it is to be obtained by such means, or in such a struggle2 Then we have the gallant Jefferson Davis, whose single charge at Buena Vista, when, hurling his regiment at the re- serves of Santa Anna, he crushed the whole of his column like an egg-shell, and retrieved the fortune of the day, is suf- ficient to immortalize his name. We have Win. L. Marcy, the wise~t, wiliest, safest man of alla great, a very great man in- deed, who carries his head in his heart, and his heart in his head, always. Passion has no slave in him. Popular clamor can not hurry him, nor popularity seduce. We never asked a favor of him but once, and thenwe didnt get it. But he was right. We had no consideration to offer, and the article desired had a market value in the political world. That fact put us upon studying his character, and we came, long ago, to the conclusion that it was less understood than that of any other man of mark in the country. Amongst all American statesmen he is facile princep& . Men ask, why then, with such a wonderful head, have others got ahead of him in the race for the Presidential chair? Other cynical men reply, because he has no heart. A gallant soldier, an able lawyer, a judge whose decisions are marked by rare common sense and accuracy, a brilliant Cabinet ministerwhy not President? Umphi Be- cause nobody believes that his heart would run away with his head; because nobody thinks he would be an easy man to use. For, you see, we have come to that now-a-days. Military heroes are always available, because hero-worship is a law of mans nature. Next to them your available man is the man into whose eyes most other men expect to poke their fingers. Then we have James Guthrie, of Kentucky Ole Kain- tuck. Theres metal in him. We can say a rare thing of himhe has had the national purse-strings in his hands for nearly four years, and has been drawing them tighter and tighter every day, and locking up the peoples money like a savings bank. But it is not our hint to praise any man above another. We have twenty great men in the Democratic party: there is never any poverty of them. We are not at all fastidious. If we wanted a foreign mission, or any other nice little tit-bit, we should probably tie on as a bob to some par- ticular kite; as it is, we are c9ntent to see others fly them. Therefore we shall say nothing of B. M. T. Hunter, of Vir- ginia, though he is well and stands in a rich place, with such surroundings and high commendation ~s few other men can 324 like Nea~t President. [April, boast of. Nor of Stephen A. Douglas, of Illinois, though he stands upon the Nebraska bill, and we stand there too, and re- joice that by its provisions reparation has been made to the country for the lengthened violence done to the Constitution by the Missouri Compromise farce. The Little Giant has broad shoulders, and would well befit the seat of state. Nor yet of Bright of Indiana, nor IRusk of Texas, who both hold good cards, and are no novices at the game of politics. They are both safe men. Nor of the smaller crowd of aspirants whose modesty in aiming at the Presidency is a convenient cloak to future applications for small federal places nice, fat federal places, as Patrick Henry called them. Go to the Convention, gentlemen, all of you, and settle it there. One piece of advice in your ear, in all your earsdont make the mistake to believe that you can get along without New.York. As goes New-York, so goes the Union. Tis an old saw. Be careful: do not out- rage her. Deal calmly and justly with her delegates when they present themselves at the bar of the Convention. You will find in that delegation names not less illustrious, nor linked with meaner destinies, than any State will send you. Be wise and patient; and remember that Regular Nomina- tions is one of the oldest and safest rules known to the party. And in conclusion, and for ourselves, we support the nomi- nee of the Convention. There is no one man now before the people whose claims are of so commanding and paramount a nature, as to make the selection of another unjust or unwise. We wait, therefore, the hour of the meeting of the Cincinnati Convention with placidity. When nominated, we mean to try to strike for him a goodblow with tongue and pentill then, sauve quiyeut. S. w. C. 1856.] Table -Talk of Samuel J?oger8. 325 TABLE-TALK 01? SAMUEL ROGERS* SEVENTY years ago Samuel Rogers made his first appearance in literature with an Ode to Superstition. This was in 1786. In 1792, his twenty-ninth year, he published his famous Pleasures of Memory, the work of nine years. Six years after he came ont with an Epistle to a Friend. In 1814, Jacqueline saw the light, in a volume with Byrons Lara. Human Life succeeded in 1819, and the first part of Italy in 1822. Rogers died in December, 1855, at the ripe age of ninety-two. During all these years he wrote verses, bought pictures and works of art, helped men of genius when they were in straits, gave breakfasts to all sorts of celebrities; in short, played the part of a poet-banker. His verses are good as far as they go: that is to say, they are thoughtfully con- ceived and carefully written, which after all is no mean merit in this age of hasty scribbling. Judged by the highest stand- ard of genius, such as we apply to born poets, they are deficient; but as amateur compositions, correct copies of the classic English models of versification, they are equal to the very best of their kind. They are finished to the last degree; every word is weighed in the balance of severe taste, and set in the most telling place in the line or stanza. This insures a commendable correctness, but the result is apt to be a want of force and vitality. Rogers will live as a poet; but he will not stand high. His fame with posterity will probably rest upon his banker- ship and his breakfasts. Every body has heard of his break- fasts: it was considered an honor to sit with Rogers, and listen to his reminiscences of the great men and women that he had known. His reputation and his tact made him acquainted with hundreds of remarkable characters; many of them he knew intimately, more intimately indeed than would have suited the pocket of a poorer man. He paid largely in some instances for his familiarity with genius. Sheridan was not backward * Recollections of the Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers. New-York: D. Appleton & Go. 1856.

Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers 325-334

1856.] Table -Talk of Samuel J?oger8. 325 TABLE-TALK 01? SAMUEL ROGERS* SEVENTY years ago Samuel Rogers made his first appearance in literature with an Ode to Superstition. This was in 1786. In 1792, his twenty-ninth year, he published his famous Pleasures of Memory, the work of nine years. Six years after he came ont with an Epistle to a Friend. In 1814, Jacqueline saw the light, in a volume with Byrons Lara. Human Life succeeded in 1819, and the first part of Italy in 1822. Rogers died in December, 1855, at the ripe age of ninety-two. During all these years he wrote verses, bought pictures and works of art, helped men of genius when they were in straits, gave breakfasts to all sorts of celebrities; in short, played the part of a poet-banker. His verses are good as far as they go: that is to say, they are thoughtfully con- ceived and carefully written, which after all is no mean merit in this age of hasty scribbling. Judged by the highest stand- ard of genius, such as we apply to born poets, they are deficient; but as amateur compositions, correct copies of the classic English models of versification, they are equal to the very best of their kind. They are finished to the last degree; every word is weighed in the balance of severe taste, and set in the most telling place in the line or stanza. This insures a commendable correctness, but the result is apt to be a want of force and vitality. Rogers will live as a poet; but he will not stand high. His fame with posterity will probably rest upon his banker- ship and his breakfasts. Every body has heard of his break- fasts: it was considered an honor to sit with Rogers, and listen to his reminiscences of the great men and women that he had known. His reputation and his tact made him acquainted with hundreds of remarkable characters; many of them he knew intimately, more intimately indeed than would have suited the pocket of a poorer man. He paid largely in some instances for his familiarity with genius. Sheridan was not backward * Recollections of the Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers. New-York: D. Appleton & Go. 1856. [April, 326 Table -Talk of Sanm~ei Rogers. in coming forward for sundry supplies of pounds, shillings and pence. In fact, Rogers was looked upon as a small Bank of England, from which any literary man might draw. There was a floating rumor that he had a million-pound bank note framed over his mantel-piece! What a God-send for Grub street! But greater than this fabulous bank note (which we believe was only for a hundred thousand pounds) was the original agreement between Milton and the publishers of Paradise Lost. This was the gem of the Rogers gallery of curiosities. For the rest of his possessions, paintings, statues, objects of vertzt, etc., they have been written about too often to need mentioning here. By his will, one or two of his finest pictures belong to the nation. They are left to the National Gallery. Rogers was celebrated for his wit; but few persons would covet the reputation it gave him. His heart was cold, cynical, morose. He said some of the bitterest things that ever dropped from mortal mouth. The adder was a fool to him. When he took a dislike to man, woman, or childand he liked but few he was merciless in his dissection of their weaknesses. He probed them to~ the quick, poured vitriol in their wounds, blazed out Greek fire at them; and all in his calm, hard, severe, gentlemanly way. It was awful how he seemed to hate thu- inanity. Nothing of this (which by the by is said rather than written of Rogers) appears in the volume of his Table-Talk. It is as mild as mothers milk; some portions of it are quite as insipid. But no mans table-talk is at all times good; too much pudding or too little wine makes many a wit stupid. Here are a few paragraphs relating to my Lord Byron: Neither Moore nor myself had ever seen Byron when it was settled that he should dine at my house to meet Moore; nor was he known by sight to Campbell, who, happening to call upon me that morning, consented to join the party. I thought it best that I alone should be in the drawing-room when Byron entered it; and Moore and Campbell accordingly withdrew. Soon after his arrival, they returned; and I introduced them to him sever- ally, naming them as Adam named the beasts. When we sat down to din- ner, I asked Byron if he would take soup? No; he never took soup. Would he take some fish? No; he never took fish.Presently I asked him if he would eat some mutton? No; he never ate mutton.I then asked him if he would ~keaglass of wine? No; he never tasted wine. It was now necessary to inquire what he did eat and drink; and the answer was, Nothing but hard biscuits and soda-water. Unfortunately, neither hard biscuits nor soda-water were at hand; and ~he dined upon potatoes bruised down on his plate and drenched with vinegar.My guests stayed till very late, discussing the merits of Walter Scott and Joanna Baillle.Some days after, meeting Hobhouse, I said to him, How long 1& i6.] Tcble-PLalk of & unuel Ii?oger8. 327 will Lord Byron persevere in his present diet? He replied, Just as long as you continue to notice it.I did not then know, what I now know to be a factthat Byron, after leaving my house, had gone to a Club in Saint Jamess Street, and eaten a hearty meat-supper. Byron sent me Chitde Harold in the printed sheets before it was pub- lished; and I read it to my sister. This, I said, in spite of all its beauty, will never please the public: they will dislike the querulous repining tone that pervades it, and the dissolute character of the hero. But I quickly found that I was mistaken. The genius which the poem exhibited, the youth, the rank of the author, his romantic wanderings in Greecethese combined to make the world stark mad about Childe Harold and Byron. I knew two old maids in Buckinghamshire who used to cry over the passage about Harolds laughing dames that long had fed his youthful appetite,~* etc. After Byron had become the rage, I was frequently amused at the ma- neuvres of certain noble ladies to get acquainted with him by means of me: for instance, I would receive a note from Lady requesting the pleasure of my company on a particular evening, with a postcript, Pray, could you not contrive to bring Lord Byron with you ?Once, at a great party given by Lady Jersey, Mrs. Sheridan ran up to me and said, Do, as a favor, try if you can place Lord Byron beside me at supper. Byron had prodigious facilityof composition. He was fond of suppers; and he used often to sup at my house and eat heartily (for he had then given up the hard biscuit and soda-water diet): after going home, he would throw off sixty or eighty verses, which he would send to press next morning. He one evening took me to ~he green-room of Drury Lane Theatre, where I was much entertained. When the play began, I went round to the front of the house, and desired the box-keeper to show me into Lord By. ron s box. I had been there about a minute, thinking myself quite alone, when suddenly Byron and Miss Boyce (the actress) emerged from a dark corner. In those days at least, Byron had no readiness of reply in conversation. If you happened to let fall any observation which offended him, he would say nothing at the time; but the offense would lie rankling in his mind and perhaps a fortnight after, he would suddenly come out with some very cutting remarks upon you, giving them as his deliberate opinions, the re- sults of his experience of your character. Several women were in love with Byron, but none so violently as Lady Caroline Lamb. She absolutely besieged him. He showed me the first letter he received from her; in which she assured him that, if he was in any want of money, all her jewels were at his service. They frequently had quar- rels; and more than once, on. coming home, I have found Lady C. walking in the garden, and waiting for me, to beg that I would reconcile them. When she met Byron at a party, she would always, if possible, return home from it in his carriage, and accompanied by 1& im: I recollect particularly their returning to town together from Holland House.But such was the insanity of her passion for Byron, that sometimes, when not invited to & party where he was to be, she would wait for him in the street till it wa~ over! One night, after a great party at Devonshire House, to which Lady Caroline had not been invited, I sawyes, saw hertalking to Byron, with 23 * Canto I. at. 11.ED. 328 Tcdle-Talk of Samuel Roger& [April, half of her body thrust into the carriage which he had just entered. In spite of all this absurdity, my firm belief is that there was nothing criminal between them. Byron at last was sick of her. When their intimacy was at an end, and while she was living in the country, she burned, very solemnly, on a sort of funeral pile, tranecripte of all the letters which she had received from By- ron, and a copy of a miniature (his portrait) which he had presented to her; several girls from the neighborhood, whom she had dressed in white gar- ments, dancing round the pile, and singing a song which she had written for the occasion, Burn, fire, burn, etcShe was mad; and her family allowed her to do whatever she chose. Latterly, I believe, Byron never dined with Lady, B.; for it was one of his fancies (or affectations) that he could not endure to see women eat. I recollect that he once refused to meet Madame de Sta~l at my house at din- ner, but came in the evening: and when I have asked him to dinner with- out mentioning what company I was to have, he would write me a note to inquire if I had invited any women. Wilkess daughter may have had a right to burn her fathers Alemoire;* but Moore, I conceive, was not justified in giving his consent to the burning of Byrons: when Byron told him that he might do whatever he pleased with them, Byron certainly never contemplated their being burned. If Moore had made me his confidant in the business, I should have protested warmly against the destruction of the ilkmoirs: but he chose Luttrell, pro- bably because he thought him the more fashionable man; and Luttrell, who cared nothing about the matter, readily voted that they should be put into the fire.There were, I understand, some gross things in that manuscript; but I read only a portion of it, and did not light upon them. I remember that it contained this anecdote: On his marriage-night, Byron suddenly started out of his first sleep; a taper, which burned in the room, was cast- ing a ruddy glare through the crimson curtains of the bed, and he could not help exclaiming, in a voice so loud that he awakened Lady B., Good God, I am surely in hell! One day, during dinner, at Pisa, when Shelley and Trelawney were with us, Byron chose to run down Shakspeare (for whom he, like Sheridan, either had, or pretended to have, little admiration). I said nothing. But Shelley immediately took up the defense of the great poet, and conducted it in his usual meek yet resolute manner, unmoved by the rude things with which Byron interrupted him Oh, thats very well for an atheist, etc. (Before meeting Shelley in Italy, I had seen him only once. It was at my own house in St. Jamess Place, where he called upon meintroducing himselfto request the loan of some money which he wished to present to Leigh Hunt; and he offered me a bond for it. Having numerous claims upon me at that time, I was obliged to refuse the loan. Both in appear- ance and in manners Shelley was the perfect gentleman.) That same day, after dinner, I walked in the garden with Byron. At the window of a neighboring house was a young woman holding a child in her arms. Byron nodded to her with a smile, and then, turning to me, said: That child is mine. In the evening, we (that is, Byron, Shelley, Trelawney, and I) rode out from Pisa to a farm (a podere); and there a pistol was put into my hand for shooting at a mark (a favorite amusement of Byron); but I de * Wilkes said to me, I have written my Zifemoirs, and they are to be pub- lished by Peter Elmsley, after my ascension. They were burnt by his daughter. 1856.] ZEable-flialle of Samuel Rogers. 329 dined trying my skill with it. The farm-keepers daughter was very pretty, and had her arms covered with bracelets, the gift of Byron, who did not fail to let me know that she was one of his many loves. I went with him to see the Campo Santo at Pisa. It was shown to us by a man who had two handsome daughters. Byron told me that he had in vain paid his addresses to the elder daughter, but that he was on the most intimate terms with the other. Probably there was not one syllable of truth in all this; for he always had the weakness of wishing to be thought much worse than he really was. Byron, like Sir Walter Scott,* was without any feeling for the fine arts. He accompanied me to the Pitti Palace at Florence; but soon growing tired of looking at the pictures, he sat down in a corner; and when I called out to him, What a noble Andrea del Sarto! the only answer I received was his muttering a passage from The Vicar of Wakefield Upon asking how he had been taught the art of a cognoscento so very suddenly, etc. (When he and Hobhouse were standing before the Parthenon, the latter said: Well, this is surely very grand. Byron replied: Very like the Mansion- House.) The recollections of Garrickwho Pr. Johnson said was not a vain man, because he did not hire a dozen tall fellows with long poles to walk before him whenever he went into the street, and knock down every body they metare pleasant and plea- santly told: I saw Garrick act only oncethe part of Ranger in The Suepicious Hus- band. I remember that there was a great crowd, and that we waited long in a dark passage of the theatre, on our way to the pit. I was then a little boy. My father had promised to take me to see Garrick in Lear; but a fit of the mumps kept me at home. Before his going abroad Garricks attractions had much decreased; Sir William Weller Pepys said, that the pit was often almost empty. But on his return to England, people were mad about seeing him; and Sir George Beaumont and several others used frequently to get admission into the pit, before the doors were open to the public, by means of bribing the attend- ants, who bade them be sure, as soon as the crowd rushed in, to pretend to be in a great heat, and to wipe their faces as if they had just been strug- gling for entrance. Jack Bannister told me, that one night he was behind the scenes of the theatre when Garrick was playing Lear; and that the tones in which Gar- rick uttered the words, 0 fool, I shall go mad I t absolutely thrilled him. * During Scotts first visit to Paris, I walked with him (and Richard Sharp) through the Louvre, and pointed out for his particular notice the St. Jerome of Domenichino, and some other chefs-dceuvre. Scott merely glanced at them, and passed on, saying: I really have not time to examine them. ~ You think Ill weep; No, Ill not weep. I have full cause of weeping; but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws Or ere Ill weep.Ofoo4 shall go mad! King Lear, act ii. se. 4.ED. 330 7able-.Tcdle of Samuel ]?oger~.. [April, Garrick used to pay an annual visit to Lord Spencer at Althorp; where, after tea, he generally entertained the company by reading scenes from Shakspeare. Thomas Grenvile,* who met him there, told me that Garrick would steal anxious glances at the faces of his audience, to perceive what effect his reading produced; that, one night, Garrick observed a lady lis- tening to him very attentively, and yet never moving ~ muscle of her coun- tenance; and that, speaking of her next day, he said: She seems a very worthy person; but I hope thatthatthat she wont be present at my reading to-night. Another evening at Althorp, when Garrick was about to exhibit some particular stage-effect of which they had been talking, a young gentleman got up and placed the candles upon the floor, that the light might be thrown on his face as from the lamps in the theatre. Gar- rick, displeased at his officiousness, immediately sat down again. Does not a little bit of Rogers cynicism peep out in the fol- lowing? Of course he dont believe itoh dear, nobut he cant deny himself the satisfaction of telling a bitter thing for that: I can hardly believe what was told me long ago by a gentleman living in the Temple, who, however, assured me that it was fact. He happened to be passing by Sir Joshuas house in Leicester Square, when he saw a poor girl seated on the steps and crying bitterly. He asked what was the matter; and she replied that she was crying because the one 8hiUing which she had received from Sir Joshua for sitting to him as a model, had proved to be a bad one, and he would not give her another. We are not sure that the following anecdote of the great actor is bran new, but as we never heard it before, we clip it: Sir George Beaumont once met Quin at a very small dinner-party. There was a delicious pudding, which the master of the house, pushing the dish towards Quin, begged bim to taste. A gentleman had just before helped himself to an immense piece of it. Pray, said Quin, looking first at the gentlemans plate and then at the dish, which i8 the pudding p There is a deal of wit in this of Parrs: Dr. Parr had a great deal of sensibility. When I read to him, in Lin- colns Inn Fields, the account of OCoiglys death, the tears rolled down his cheeks. One day, Mackintosh having vexed him by calling OOoigly a rascal, Parr immediately rejoined: Yes, Jamie, he was a bad man, but he might have been worse: he was an Irishman, but he might have been a Scotch- man; he was a priest, but he might have been a lawyer; he was a republi- can, but he might have been an apostate.~ Lord Erskine lived before the days of model policemen. * The Ilight Honorable T. G.En. 1856.] Table-Talk of Samuel ]ioger8. 331 The anecdote told by him seems to add second sight to his other great endow~nents: A friend of mine, said Erskine, was suffering from a continual wake- fulness; and various methods were tried to send him to sleep, but in vain. At last his physicians resorted to an experiment which succeeded perfectly: they dressed him in a watchmans coat, put a lantern into his hand, placed him in a sentry-box, andhe was asleep in ten minutes. And here is a choice little bit for the lawyers. In the pre- sent state of the Bench in the city c~f New-York, how delight- fully the first part of it would apply: Dunning (afterwards Lord Ashburton) was stating the law to a jury at Guildhall, when Lord Mansfield interrupted him by saying: If that be law, Ill go home and burn my books. My Lord, replied Dunning, you had better go home and read them. Dunning was remarkably ugly. One night, while he was playing whist, at Nandos, with Home Tooke and two others, Lord Thu~low called at the door, and desired the waiter to give a note to Dunning (with whom, though their politics were so different, he was very intimate). The waiter did not know Dunning by sight. Take the note up stairs, said Thurlow, and deliver it to the ugliest man at the card-tableto him who most re- sembles the knave of spades. The note immediately reached its destina- tion. Home Tooke used often to tell this anecdote. There is a pleasant group in the following extract, and a strange picture of the life led by great menone wonders when they found time to do any thing useful except raise turnips: Fox (in his earlier days, I mean), Sheridan, Fitzpatrick, etc., led 8uch a life! Lord Tankerville assured me that he has played cards with Fitzpa- trick at Brookess from ten oclock at night till near six oclock the next af- ternoon, a waiter standing by to tell them whose deal it was, they being too sleepy to know. After losing large sums at hazard, Fox would go homenot to destroy himself as his friends sometimes feared, butto sit down quietly, and read Greek. He once won about eight thousand pounds; and one of his bond-credi- tors, who soon heard of his good luck, presented himself and asked for payment. Impossible, sir, replied Fox; I must first discharge my debts of honor. The bond-creditor remonstrated. Well, sir, give me your bond. It was delivered to Fox, who tore it in pieces and threw them into the fire. Now, sir, said Fox, my debt to you is a debt of honor~ and immediately paid him. When I became acquainted with Fox, he had given up that kind of life entirely, and resided in the most perfect sobriety and regularity at Saint Annes Hill. There he was very happy, delighting in study, in rural occu- pations and rural prospects. He would break from a criticism on Porsons Euripide8 to look for the little pigs. I remember his calling out to the 332 fiable-Talle of Samuel 1i?oger~. [April, Chertsey hills, when a thick mist which had for some time concealed them rolled away: Good morning to you! I am glad to see you again. There was a walk in his grounds which led to a lane through which the farmers used to pass; and he would stop them, and talk to them, with great inter- est, about the price of turnips, etc. I was one day with him in the Louvre, when he suddenly turned from the pictures, and, looking out at the win- dow, exclaimed: This hot sun will burn up my turnips at St. Annes lull. Never in my life did I hear any thing equal to Foxs speeches in reply they were wonderful. Burke did not do himself justice as a speaker: his manner was hurried, and he always seemed to be in a passion. Pitts voice sounded as if he had worsted in his mouth. Porson said that Pitt carefully considered his sentences before he ut- tered them; but that Fox threw himself into the middle of his, and left it to God Almighty to get him out again. Malone was one day walking down Dover-street with Burke, when the latter all at once drew himself up and carried his head aloft with an air of great hauteur. Malone perceived that this was occasioned by the approach of Fox, who presently passed them on the other side of the street. After Fox had gone by, Burke asked Malone very eagerly: Did he look at me l Fox once said to me that Burke was a most impracticable person, a most unmanageable colleaguethat he never would support any measure, however convinced he might be in his heart of its utility, if it had been first proposed by another; and he once used these very words: After all, Burke was a damned wrong-headed fellow, through his whole life jealous and obstinate. Mrs. Crewe told me that, on some occasion when it was remarked that Fox still retained his early love for France and every thing French, Burke said: Yes- he is like a cathe is fond of the house, though the family be gone. We must be allowed to crib one other anecdote of Fox: I saw Lunardi make the first ascent in a balloon which had been wit- nessed in England. It was from the Artillery Ground. Fox was there with his brother General F. The crowd was immense. Fox, happening to put his hand down to his watch, found another hand upon it, which he im- mediately seized. My friend, said he to the owner of the strange hand, you have chosen an occupation which will be your ruin at last. 0, Mr. Fox, was the reply, forgive me, and let me go! I have been driven to this course by necessity alone; my wife and children are starving at home. Fox, always tender-hearted, slipped a guinea into the hand, and then released it. On the conclusion of the show, Fox was proceeding to look what oclock it was. Good God, cried he, my watch is gone 1 Yes, answered General F., I know it is; I saw your friend take it. Saw him take it! and y~ou made no attempt to stop him? Really, you s~nd he ap- peared to be on such good terms with each other th interfere. , at I did not choose to With the following good things of Footes we must close our extracts: Foote was once talking away at a party, when a gentleman said to him: 1856.] Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers. 333 I beg your pardon, Mr. Foote, but your handkerchief is half-out of your pocket. Thank you, sir, answered Foote; you know the company better than I do. Fox told me that Lord William Bentiack once invited Foote to meet him and some others at dinner in St. Jamess-street; and that they were rather angry at Lord William for having done so, expecting that Foote would prove only a bore, and a check on their conversation. But, said Fox, we soon found that we were mistaken; whatever we talked aboutwhether fox-hunting, the tur1~, or any other subjectFoote instantly took the lead, and delighted us all There was no end to Footes jokes about Garricks parsimony. Gar- rick, said Foote, lately invited Hurd to dine with him in the Adelphi; and after dinner, the evening being very warm, they walked up and down ia front of the house. As they passed and repassed the dining-room windows, Garrick was in a perfect agony; for he saw that there was a thief in one of the candles which were burning on the table; and yet ilurd was a person of such consequence that he could not run away from him to prevent the waste of his tallow. At the Chapter Coffee-house, Foote and his friends were making a con- tribution for the relief of a poor fellow (a decayed player, I believe), who was nick-named the Captain of the Four Winds, because his hat was worn into four spouts. Each person of the company dropped his mite into the hat, as it was held out to him. If Garrick hears of this, said Foote, he will cer- tainly send us his hat. The then Duke of Cumberland (the foolish Duke, as he was called) came one night into Footes green-room at the Haymarket Theatre. Well, Foote, said he, here I am, ready, as usual, to swallow all your good things. Upon my soul, replied Foote, your Royal Highness must have an excellent digestion, for you never bring any up again. Whatever we may think of Rogers himself, this book of his Table-Talk is a mine of amusing reading, and cannot fail of having a great run. There is so Lunch in it to extract that we cannot well tell where to begin or where leave ofl~. The whole book, indeed, would have to be cribbed in a body to give the right idea of it. All the celebrities of the bar, the senate, the theatre, of art in every shape, walk before us and talk to us in their raciest manner, in its pages. It is a perpetual feast of good things, and gala day of great wits. 334 The late Edgar Allan Poe. [April, THE LATE EDGAR ALLAN POE.* To say that the great mass of readers have never done jus- tice, or any thing approaching justice, to the genius of the late Edgar Allan Poe, is to cast no reflection upon the honesty of their critical neglect. We do not blame the purblind man for his inabilit~ to appreciate the beauty of some minutely elabo- rate design. We do not say that he is wilfully unjust to Turner or Church, because he witlessly prefers the glaring daub of some provincial sign-post painter, to those exquisite combina- tions of light and shade which form the charmto those who understand themof those masters landscapes. Why should he hanker after the chased goblets or cameos of Cellini, if the pinchbeck jewelry and plated pewter-ware of the original Jacobs be just as pleasing to the eye? Let us remember that it cost the world at least two hundred years of patient cultiva- tion and refinement, before it was enabled to raise itself into any thing like a proper light for the examination of Shake- speares works; andwhile we are willing to admit that the interval is immense which lies between the powers of the great dramatist and Mr. Poestill, a consideration of this circum- stance may aid us in accounting for the otherwise incompre- hensible stupidity which has hitherto confined the appreciation of the genius evinced in the works of the latter to a select and cultivated few. We have now before usthanks to the enterprise of Mr. iRedfielda complete collection of all the works that Poe could possibly have, wished preserved, had he himself been alive and superintending their publication. Indeed we rather think that his reputation would have profited by the omission of very many of the sketches and critiques which his literary executor the iRev. Rufus W. Griswoldhas seen fit to embrace in his collection. But of the manner in which the book is edited, we shall take occasion to speak hereafter; at present let us briefly note the characteristics of the authors genius. That Poe was entirely original, both in his conceptions and * The Works of the late Edgar Allan Poe. With a Memoir by nufus Wilmot Griswold, aad Notices of his Life naci Genius, by N. P. Willis and J. R. Lowell. In 4 volumes (4th just issued). Redfleld, New-York.

The Late Edgar Allan Poe 334-338

334 The late Edgar Allan Poe. [April, THE LATE EDGAR ALLAN POE.* To say that the great mass of readers have never done jus- tice, or any thing approaching justice, to the genius of the late Edgar Allan Poe, is to cast no reflection upon the honesty of their critical neglect. We do not blame the purblind man for his inabilit~ to appreciate the beauty of some minutely elabo- rate design. We do not say that he is wilfully unjust to Turner or Church, because he witlessly prefers the glaring daub of some provincial sign-post painter, to those exquisite combina- tions of light and shade which form the charmto those who understand themof those masters landscapes. Why should he hanker after the chased goblets or cameos of Cellini, if the pinchbeck jewelry and plated pewter-ware of the original Jacobs be just as pleasing to the eye? Let us remember that it cost the world at least two hundred years of patient cultiva- tion and refinement, before it was enabled to raise itself into any thing like a proper light for the examination of Shake- speares works; andwhile we are willing to admit that the interval is immense which lies between the powers of the great dramatist and Mr. Poestill, a consideration of this circum- stance may aid us in accounting for the otherwise incompre- hensible stupidity which has hitherto confined the appreciation of the genius evinced in the works of the latter to a select and cultivated few. We have now before usthanks to the enterprise of Mr. iRedfielda complete collection of all the works that Poe could possibly have, wished preserved, had he himself been alive and superintending their publication. Indeed we rather think that his reputation would have profited by the omission of very many of the sketches and critiques which his literary executor the iRev. Rufus W. Griswoldhas seen fit to embrace in his collection. But of the manner in which the book is edited, we shall take occasion to speak hereafter; at present let us briefly note the characteristics of the authors genius. That Poe was entirely original, both in his conceptions and * The Works of the late Edgar Allan Poe. With a Memoir by nufus Wilmot Griswold, aad Notices of his Life naci Genius, by N. P. Willis and J. R. Lowell. In 4 volumes (4th just issued). Redfleld, New-York. 1856.] The lc4~ Edgar Allart Poe. 335 style, his most relentless enemies (and they are those least jus- tified in being so) are ashamed or incapable of denying. We see, it is true, from his earlier productionsfrom the pages of Arthur Gordon Pym more especiallythat he had read the writings of Defoe with care, and properly appreciated the veri- similitude which minute details of fact confer upon the most extravagant romance. He had also studied Godwin with atten- tion; and to a frequent perusal of his Caleb Williams may, not improbably, have been indebted for that total independence of external adjuncts, which is observable in all his finest tales. But to neither did he sacrifice the promptings of his individual genius. Of neither did he borrow more than some hints that were afterwards made serviceable in the execution of his ideas. The plan of every fabric is essentially his own, although the workmanship presents some trifling traces of Defoes and God- wins tutelage. What we mean by independence of external adjuncts, is briefly this: the heroes of his tales are only mentally intro- duced to us; we have no descriptions of their appearance, dress or carriage; there are no verbal landscapes of the locali- ties in which his plots are laidif we except those purely allegorical productions in which a one-line notice of the scenery is required for a fitting background to the strange and preternatural characters. He adds no moral to his tale: in- deed it is, perhaps, the most remarkable and striking feature of his works, that not the faintest shadow of the moral element can possibly be found in them. Whether by design or acci- dent, he has utterly ignored all discriminations of right ~nd wrong: there is not the remotest allusion to religion: there are no sympathies expressed either for vice or virtuenor could there be! for to neither is the least allusion made. His whole attention seems devoted to the introspective analysis of the intellect and passions; to the most subtle operations of the mind, and the obscurest workings of the heart. His world is in himself: a glowing world, but full of fascinating terror. We shudder as we read, but we are spell-bound by his pages. Like the Ancient Marineerewho perhaps should be in- cluded with Robinson Crusoe and Caleb Williams, as having some influence in the formation of his style he holds us with his glittering eye until his wild, weird tale of horrible suspense is ended. The attractiveness of terror is the staple principle of the interest which, both in his prose and poetry, he has endeavored so successfully to rivet. His talesand many of them surpass 336 like late Edgar Allam Poe. [April, in thrilling horror and breathless anxiety the wildest superna- tural creations of German mysticismare all ~founded upon, at least, a possibility of fact. He scorns the clumsy machinery of ghbsts and demoniacal interference, well assured that the intimate workings of the human heart can furnish images as fearful and more appalling in proportion to their greater sem- blance of actuality. He does not deal with crime; he is free from the felon sympathies of modern French romance; the agonies that he invokes are not the fruit of guilt, but, on the contrary, the result of a too sensitive and finely-strung imagi- nation; and the whole of his most startling effects are brought about by an artistic combination of events in themselves most trivial, but invested with a mysterious and wholly irresistible awe by the varied and cuni~ulative repetitions with which they are presented to the mind. In his poem of The Raven we have a very palpable in- stance of this art. The words which form the burden of the song, fall at first with comparatively little power upon the ear; but as they are repeated, stanza after stanza, and every time with a more vague and dismal meaning, they accumulate into a gradual horror on the mind, until the final cry of Never- more rings through the soul like the sound of a snapped heartstring. And in all his more careful works, we find upon analysis, that their power depends upon the iterated and reiter- ated production of the one leading or central idea, in as many different forms as he may have occasion to use it. This is par- ticulary noticeable in the Fall of the House of Usher, the Gold Bug, and the Murders in the Rue Morgue. How carefully, how stealthily in the last mentioned tale, does he hint to us in a thousand shapeless ways the utterly inhuman charac- teristics of the~ facts; their variance with all known or logical possibilities; their more than even human madness could accom- plish, before he finally proceeds by analytic reasoning alone to find a safe and probable conclusion! But our space forbids any extended notice of Poes separate works; and their own intense concentration and unity defy the scissors of the critic to make any extract that would convey even a faint conception of their splendid and elaborate interest. With a recommendation to the reader to add to his library, if he have them not, the works of the greatest of Americas writers of fictionNathaniel Hawthorne alone exceptedwe must now turn to the causes of the very limited popularity which Poe enjoys, and to the manner in which the Rev. IR. W. Griswold has executed the sacred trust, which the confi~ dence of a dying man reposed in his sagacity and honor. 18.56.] like late Edgar Allan Poe. 837 We are no apologists for the irregularities which, at fitful intervals, Mr. Poe permitted to deface the natural splendor of his acquirements; if his works had been popular, and were of a tendency to seduce others into the vice or vices he himself was guilty of; we admit that it might properly have become the painful duty of the critic to expose the foulness of the fountain from which the bright but contaminating poison flowed. But such was not the caseexactly the reverse of it! for, though directly he made no allusion either to morality or its opposite, his works are stainless as the new- fallen snow; and by the lesson of self-examination which they so powerfully and attractively teach, cannot fail to purify and elevate the mind of every one who reads them. Was it kind then, was it honest, was it Christian of Mr. Griswold to tear aside the sheltering veil of death from the poor, pauper grave of him who, whatever his unhappy appetites, had paid for them the extremest penalty of a miserable death and burial in the Potters field of Baltimore; was it a fit execution of the trust which a dying man had reposed in him, to rip open the silence of the tomb and drag the frailties and errors of the dead to light, without the intrQduction of one redeeming feature? It was not. It was a base, a barbarous and cowardly attack upon the memory of one whose shoe latchets (with all his fail- ings) IR. W. Griswold was not worthy to unloose. It was a wanton as well as wicked actfor the charity of silence might have covered all; and, if he found that he had nothing good to say of his dead friend, he, at least, of all created beings, should have been the last to proclaim Poes errorsor rather his one error of intemperance, (since it must be said,) from which all others flowedwith loud and somewhat exulting trumpet note. To whom will Griswold trust his own biogra- phyif his vanity should ever lead him to suppose that such a work would be desirable after his death? Or will he leave it to the records of the Courts to say how Dc mortui8 nil, nisi bonum, is the only favor that the erring dead can- properly expect; but of Poes many noble and attrac- tive qualities not one single word is said in mitigation of his admitted faults. Well might that fierce and indiscriminate Gilfillanwho was, nevertheless, critic enough to pay the pro. foundest homage to the genius of the man whose frailties he reviled with profusest Billingsgatewell might Gilfillan, we say, proclaim to English ears that Poe was a combination of the angel and the fiendthe fiend predominant however; and 338 Chron~icle of the Afonth. [April, base his sweeping charge upon the fact that his self-chosen executora clergyman, no less! a reverend !was called on by a sense of duty to state the demoniacal nature of the man before permitting the pages of his writings to be read. We have no wish to strike the fallen; and so we shall con- clude this brief; but earnest article, by wishing Mr. Griswold a more charitable and gentle biographer than he has proved himself to be. CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. F OREI GN. IF the English and French press say sooth, the peace conferences in Paris are the most peaceable, harmonious and delightful reunions of great men that ever took place. By their showing, a spirit of benignant philanthropy ani- mates every bosom, and the most tender and generous sentiments fill the henrts of the noble negotiators. They are quite bubbling up and boiling over with goodness in fact, and up to any amount of self-denial and pious sacrifice for the good of the whole human race. It is great pity that the witnesses to this state of virtuous harmony happen to be, all of them, parties in interest, and entitled to so little credit. Let us look at the state of affairs a moment. If we accept the account and view offered by the press of France and England, in what position does it place Russia? Truly a very humiliating one. With an empire unexhausted, a territory intact, and no other reverse than the loss of half a town, after a defence unexampled for skill and heroic obstinacy; hav- ing inflicted upon the allies a much greater loss and damage than she has her- self suffered, Russia is represented as not only willing, but, in fact, quite eager to relinquish all the advantages gained by centuries of diplomacy and war, and culminating in the treaties of Unkiar Skellessi and Adrianopleand for what? for any benefit present or prospective to herself? Xo! But altogether to mollify and glorify two powers which have attacked her on the slightest and most futile pretextsand whose real objects, from the beginning, she knows, and all the world knows, were to straiten, cripple, impoverish, and belittle her for their own aggrandizement. Can any one really credit itthat Russia will patiently submit to such humiliation; that she will consent to her own shame; that she will even beg to be disgraced, and making a national Maw-worm of

Chronicle of the Month 338-342

338 Chron~icle of the Afonth. [April, base his sweeping charge upon the fact that his self-chosen executora clergyman, no less! a reverend !was called on by a sense of duty to state the demoniacal nature of the man before permitting the pages of his writings to be read. We have no wish to strike the fallen; and so we shall con- clude this brief; but earnest article, by wishing Mr. Griswold a more charitable and gentle biographer than he has proved himself to be. CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. F OREI GN. IF the English and French press say sooth, the peace conferences in Paris are the most peaceable, harmonious and delightful reunions of great men that ever took place. By their showing, a spirit of benignant philanthropy ani- mates every bosom, and the most tender and generous sentiments fill the henrts of the noble negotiators. They are quite bubbling up and boiling over with goodness in fact, and up to any amount of self-denial and pious sacrifice for the good of the whole human race. It is great pity that the witnesses to this state of virtuous harmony happen to be, all of them, parties in interest, and entitled to so little credit. Let us look at the state of affairs a moment. If we accept the account and view offered by the press of France and England, in what position does it place Russia? Truly a very humiliating one. With an empire unexhausted, a territory intact, and no other reverse than the loss of half a town, after a defence unexampled for skill and heroic obstinacy; hav- ing inflicted upon the allies a much greater loss and damage than she has her- self suffered, Russia is represented as not only willing, but, in fact, quite eager to relinquish all the advantages gained by centuries of diplomacy and war, and culminating in the treaties of Unkiar Skellessi and Adrianopleand for what? for any benefit present or prospective to herself? Xo! But altogether to mollify and glorify two powers which have attacked her on the slightest and most futile pretextsand whose real objects, from the beginning, she knows, and all the world knows, were to straiten, cripple, impoverish, and belittle her for their own aggrandizement. Can any one really credit itthat Russia will patiently submit to such humiliation; that she will consent to her own shame; that she will even beg to be disgraced, and making a national Maw-worm of 1856.] Chronicle of the Afonth. 339 herself; rejoice and glory in a tame submission to whatever injuries her ene- mies may choose to heap upon her? All things, we are told, may be possible; and therefore so may this. But does it wear an appearance of probability; has it a face, an air of reason? We can not think so; and we are mistaken if the fifth point do not prove the pons asinorum of diplomacy. Misled by their own representations, and revelling in the wish which is father to their thoughts, the English press continue to indulge in a dangerous and injurious tone towards this country. They have mounted their high trotting horse and cut daily the strangest antics; but like monkeys in a circus, the size of the animal they bestride only tends the more glaringly to show off their own littleness. The Post, Palmerstons organ, assumes the guardianship of the United States, and proposes to correct our bad manners, and pound us into decency and propriety the moment peace is concluded. Had they not better wait until it be? Our London friend is really amusing to the last degree hear him: The question of fillibustering remains as a matter for grave cons~deration witA the States of Europe; and we think that Great Britain, in her position amongst those States, and with reference especially to her reketions with the continent and islands of America, ought to take The initiative in mooting the question,wi.th a view to a common understanding being come to upon the principles and policy to be ohserved in connection with this practice. Expeditions, armed and organized, and main- tained by funds subscribed upon the joint stock principle, are notoriously fitted out within the territory of the United States, for the attack of States and territories in temporary troubles from revolution, or some internal convulsion, or whose weak. ness, from other causes, invites aggression. These expeditions are not only dis. avowed, but are prohihited by the national government of America, and are against her laws. And yet we see them encouraged by the national press, their successes hailed as national triumphs, and succor afforded openly by the employds and com- missioned forces of the national government. Is, or is not, America compromised as a State by such acts of her subjects and employ6s? Is it, or is it not, necessary to declare all concerned in such expeditions to be pirates, and liable to be dealt with as such, whenever met with on the high seas, or when seized and taken with arms in their hands on land? Are we to be content to leave the weak States so attacked to apply these principles and adopt this course? or ought there to be a common action of all States that desire peace to prevent such disturbances of it, and to hold the State that encourages and permits such conduct in her subjects in some measure responsible for the consequences? Let the political effects of conniving at or shut- ting our eyes to this growing system of aggression be noted in the particular case of Walkers recent filibustering expedition against Nicaragua. He has landed there with his rowdies and desperadoes, and is now maintaining himself as a de facto political interest in that Territory. He has had the audacity to send his diplomatic agent to represent him in the United States; and, although the President has up to this day hesitatedit would be too much to say refusedto recognize this agent, the state of things in Nicaragua, and the confusion consequent upon this very expe- dition, has been used as a pretext for refusing to redeive the envoy of Rivas, the elected President of Nicaragua, or to recognize any other established authority of the country. Nicaragua is warranted by this refusal, under the supposition of its being a State, in declaring war against the United States, and steps have been taken by the authorities there which may end in this extreme measure. But this, instead of being feared, is the consummation most desired by Americans, because it would warrant the decided support of Walker, and the employment of the United States 340 Chronicle of the iVLbnth. [April, forces in direct hostilities for purposes of conquest and annexation. Nicaragua is thus clearly in the position of a weak State, subjected to the aggression, direct and indirect, of a powerful one. Where, then,, is the difference letween her claim and that of Tur1eey~ for the su)kport of Euroj2e against pa~pal~le violence and injustice ? There is this little trouble in the way of our kind guardians over the water, namely, when they go to Turkey, they may do as the Turkies do; but when they come to Yankee-land they cant do as the Yankees do. Cause why? Yankees and Sharps rifles are uncommonly ugly things to handl~ any way except good-naturedly. Dear John Bull, dont be stupid! You are not a quick-witted fellow, it is true; but you ought to know which side your bread is buttered. Chaff and call hard names as much as you like. We rather like it too. It shows how much you think of us. A man never throws away much good solid cursing on an object he cares nothing for. Curse on; your Billingsgate to us is music. It is a tribute to our greatness, extorted from your fear and envy. But dont be afraid. We will not hurt you, if you behave yourself, and keep your hands off. Words cooled by the breath of man move us as little as a bad smell moves a New-York alderman. But, confine yourself distinctly to bow-wowing. Show your teeth, if you please, but dont snap, or we shall be under the dis- agreeable necessity of taking you by the neck, and shaking you into your senses again. Let Central America alone. You have hold of the wrong end of the stick there. Uncle Sam can take care of this continent without you; and, upon our word, John, he means to do it. There you see is the whole question settled for you without further trouble. And pray be not deceived by our little domestic tiffs and love quarrels among ourselves. It is a family quarrel; a man and wife pout. We will be as ill.natured as we please to each other, and fall out and rate each other roundly; but when anybody else interferes in our matrimonial squabbles, we are one flesh again, and ready to serve out the intruder to his hearts content. Accept your destiny like a man, John. You are getting old and feebleall your fine navy to the contrary notwithstanding. We are young and lusty. We have never applied any hot aristocratic and monarchical stimulants to our blood, nor lived too fast; and if you push us into field work, you will be really surprised at the swath we shall cut through that grass of which we are told all flesh is compounded. Ver1~. sap. DOMESTIC. The approach of the Cincinnati Convention centres all interest upon the Presidential nomination. Who will he be? Ah, theres the rub. In Wash- ington, the friends of fifty candidates are as busy as bees. It is beautiful, morally instructive and aff~cting, to walk the halls of legislation, to glide through the rooms of the White House; the bureaus of the secretaries; the salons of senators. So much friendship; such entire generosity and self- denial. Your great man, as he sharpens his carving-knife to cut a turkey, 18~6.] Chroniole of ike ]Jifonth. 341 feels the edge with a sentiment akin to that of the benevolent Shylock, and as he slices a piece of the breast fancies it the pound of flesh nearest his rivals heart. They murder whilst they smile. They dream of cutting each others throatsfiguratively, of course. It is also pleasing and instruc- tive to remark, that the question there with regard to the candidate is neither who is the greatest and best, nor who the most available; but, who can be managed easiest afterwards? And with all their wit and wire- pulling, it is still more pleasing to remark how completely in a fog they all are. Now, we know who will be the next Presidential and Vice-Presiden- tial candidates, and yet we hold our tongue. Honorable senators discussed the matter in the lobby a few days since, and used the name of the DEMO- CRATIC REVIEW very freely. The correspondent of the New-York Herald, writing March 20th, says: A good deal of excitement has been produced here to-day,among the friends of the various Presidential candidates, by an article which recently appeared in Dou- glas home organthe Chicago Timesin which all the Presidential aspirants are overslaughed, with the exception of the Little Giant, who is pronounced the only available man for the crisis. A leading Buchanan senator stated to-day, in the presence of a number of gentlemen, that a repetition of the DEMOCRATIC REVIEW game would only recoil upon its author. The excitement is intense, and it is wax- ing hotter. Now, the DEMOCRATIC REvIEw plays no game. It means no mischief. Mr. George Saunders may have played games with it four years ago, and undoubtedly he did it no good. Its present editor accepts the decision of the Cincinnati Convention pure and simple. He may have his prefer- ences, as what man has not, but we challenge any man to show where we have said or written a word which the most perverse ingenuity could tor- ture into an attempt to anticipate or forestall the action of that body. We have no great love for political conventions of any kind; and that love is growing small by degrees and beautifully less. Our article upon Conven- tions, of a few months since, embodies our faith on that head. The New- York Herald, of Sunday, March 23d, has adopted our idea, and added strength to it; and, whilst we can not conscientiously go the whole length of that article, there are some things in it worth pondering; for instance, in enumerating what the convention system has done, it says: It has raised up a power between the Constitution and the people utterly sub- versive of the spirit of the one and of the rights of the other. It has substituted the decisions of intriguing politicians in the place of the unbiased judgment of the nation. It has paralyzed and discouraged all high disinterested public sentiment, making petty management its chief qualification for political preferment, and clos- ing the door against patriotism, statesmanship, and personal independence. It has offered the highest rewards of the nation to him who would most, successfully con- ceal his real opinions before the election, and most shamelessly disregard them after. Of this Cincinnati Convention, however, we expect better things. We expect it truly to reflect the temper of the time. We expect it truly to re 342 3lonthly Literary Record. [April, present the sentiments of National Democracy. We expect it to substitute honesty for intrigue, and patriotism for place-hunting. We expect it, in short, to give us the right man. And, much as the machinery of conven- tions has been perverted, we believe the situation and national crisis to be grave enough to control and compel it back to its proper and legitimate action. In that faith we resL We want no Protean changes; and that, in conclusion, reminds us, that we have been making upon this Chronicle our first experiment at writing with one of Princes Protean Fountain-Pens. The manufacturer sent us one, with a request to try it, and tell him if it were what it professed to be. To which we replied, that if it were we would say so, and if it were not he might be sure we would say it was a humbug. Now we have tried it, and we can say, with a clear conscience, that it is one of the greatest comforts we have ever stumbledon. It is ex- ceedingly simple. The handle is hollow and light, and holds ink enough to write a long time. We have been writing an hour with it, and it is up to its work still. The relief is really great. It saves the annoyance of dip- ping every minute into an inkstand. It is, as everybody probably knows, self-supplying; and when you have done writing you have only to turn a little regulator, put on the cap, and clap pen and inkstand into your pocket. We agree with the claim of the inventor, that it is one of the most useful in- ventions of the age. MONTHLY LITERARY RECORD. The lformons at Home; with some Incidents of Travel from Missouri to California, 1852-~3. In a series of Letters. By Mrs. B. G. FERnIs, (wife of the late United States Secretary for Utah.) New-York: Dix & Ed- wards. Tun epistolary form of book-making has gone out of fashion; and the last effort of Miss Bremer makes us rather hope that she, at least, will not again attempt to revive it. But the pleasant and perspicuous style of the volume we have now before us, does much to obliterate the landmarks of our old dislike; and we confess that Mrs. Ferris (whose husbands official position gave her the best means of observing the polygamous villainy of Utah) has produced, from a rehash and revision of the private letters writ- ten by her during the period of her residence amongst the Mormons, a most piquant and agreeable volume. The keen eye and kjndred sympathy of a woman and a wife at once revealed to her the depths of misery and shame

The Mormons at Home; with some Incidents of Travel from Missouri to California, 1852-3. In a series of Letters. By Mrs. B. G. Ferris Monthly Literary Record 342-343

342 3lonthly Literary Record. [April, present the sentiments of National Democracy. We expect it to substitute honesty for intrigue, and patriotism for place-hunting. We expect it, in short, to give us the right man. And, much as the machinery of conven- tions has been perverted, we believe the situation and national crisis to be grave enough to control and compel it back to its proper and legitimate action. In that faith we resL We want no Protean changes; and that, in conclusion, reminds us, that we have been making upon this Chronicle our first experiment at writing with one of Princes Protean Fountain-Pens. The manufacturer sent us one, with a request to try it, and tell him if it were what it professed to be. To which we replied, that if it were we would say so, and if it were not he might be sure we would say it was a humbug. Now we have tried it, and we can say, with a clear conscience, that it is one of the greatest comforts we have ever stumbledon. It is ex- ceedingly simple. The handle is hollow and light, and holds ink enough to write a long time. We have been writing an hour with it, and it is up to its work still. The relief is really great. It saves the annoyance of dip- ping every minute into an inkstand. It is, as everybody probably knows, self-supplying; and when you have done writing you have only to turn a little regulator, put on the cap, and clap pen and inkstand into your pocket. We agree with the claim of the inventor, that it is one of the most useful in- ventions of the age. MONTHLY LITERARY RECORD. The lformons at Home; with some Incidents of Travel from Missouri to California, 1852-~3. In a series of Letters. By Mrs. B. G. FERnIs, (wife of the late United States Secretary for Utah.) New-York: Dix & Ed- wards. Tun epistolary form of book-making has gone out of fashion; and the last effort of Miss Bremer makes us rather hope that she, at least, will not again attempt to revive it. But the pleasant and perspicuous style of the volume we have now before us, does much to obliterate the landmarks of our old dislike; and we confess that Mrs. Ferris (whose husbands official position gave her the best means of observing the polygamous villainy of Utah) has produced, from a rehash and revision of the private letters writ- ten by her during the period of her residence amongst the Mormons, a most piquant and agreeable volume. The keen eye and kjndred sympathy of a woman and a wife at once revealed to her the depths of misery and shame 1856.] ]ilontldy Literary Record. 343 which underlie the forced composure of a Salt-L~ke harem. She mentions many touching incidents which prove how bitterly the Mormon women re- gret the yoke rrom which there now appears for them no possibility of dis- enthralment. Just fancy her feelings when, shortly after her arrival, Mr. Parley Pratt, one of the most potent saints, called gravely at her house, and introduced to her, with all the formula of solemn courtesy, Mrs. P. Pratt, prima, Mrs. P. Pratt, sedunda, Mrs. P. Pratt, tertia, Mrs. P. Pratt, quarta at the same time assuring her, that the other Mrs. P. Pratts were all equally anxious to share her acquaintance, but that they were detained at home by domestic calls, and the duties of his nursery! We find, too, that the fact of a previous marriage does not prevent a womans being sealed to a second husband during the temporary absence of her first. Thus, an accom- plished lady, whose husband had been sent by the Saints on a mission to California, was ~agerly and openly solicited by many of the chief priests and elders to accept of their respective seals during the absence of her bosoms lordwho, fortunately for himself and her, sat too firmly on his throne to be removed by such entreaties. The work is one of the liveliest interest and versatility; the fair letter-writer, we suspect, was occasionally inclined to grow jealous, and there is nothing like a spice ofjealousy or sus- picion for adding bitterness and edge to a womans perception of the ludi- crous. The journey from Missouri to Utah is well described; and the scenery of Kansas, the valley of the Wakarusa, the Big Vermilion and Big Blue rivers, with a general picture of life upon the frontier, are excellently and vividly portrayed. We congratulate Mrs. Ferris and her husband upon their escape from the paradise of saints; and thank the lady warmly for her pleasant narration of a strange experience. Uharlemont; or the Pride of the Village. A Tale of Kentucky. By W. GILMORE SIMMS. Redfield: New-York. WE may well suppose, and save ourselves a deal of trouble By the suppo- sition, that the author of the Partisan, The Scout, Beauchampe, Mell